Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.
Anyway, thanks for the reviews.
Okay, all the really dark stuff is done. Just some talk about suicide, but in true Winchester fashion, it doesn't get too intense. Thanks for reading and reviewing.
Dean drove over a bridge and was nearly on the other side before he stopped. Sam was asleep aginst the window. Dean climbed out of the car, grabbed the bag of ashes and went to the railing. He looked down at the wide, dark water and punched a few holes in the bag with his pocketknife. He held it over the water and let go. It hit the water with a soft splash and sunk as water poured into the bag. He sighed and went back to the car. Mission accomplished, time to go home.
Dean pulled up in front of the hotel room and wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week. He looked over at Sam, he was pale and his breathing shallow. Dean hated to wake him.
Miles to go before I sleep, he smiled to himself, if Sam only knew he was remembering a poem. If Sam only knew that he read a poem, not for a school assignment. Maybe he'd tell the kid when they were both patched up. He slipped from the car, snagged the first aid kit from the trunk on his way around and opened Sam's door.
Sam started awake and looked up at Dean, enough pain and relief in his eyes to nearly break his older brother.
"Come on." Dean helped Sam to his feet and felt him shake.
Dean eased Sam onto one of the beds and opened the first aid kit next to him. Sam slid back onto the pillows and watched Dean.
"Stop staring." Dean forced a smile.
"Just don't want to miss anything, anymore." He whispered.
"You're fine, Sammy. It's over." Dean met his eyes.
Sam swallowed, relaxed slightly. "I know. Thanks."
"Get your shirt off." Dean pulled out the gauze and tape.
Sam sat up and painfully peeled his shirt from him. Several deep gashes extended across his chest and onto his arms. Some had stopped bleeding, but a couple were deep enough to worry Dean.
"This is going to suck." Dean pulled the bottle of holy water from his pocket.
"Least I'll remember it." He muttered.
Dean heard the slight fear still in Sam's voice. Dean dumped the holy water over the gashes on Sam. He winced with pain, but kept his eyes on his brother.
He wiped the blood and water away and looked at Sam. "This will hurt more." He opened the bottle of peroxide.
Sam braced himself for the pain and his breath caught as the peroxide hit the wounds. He clenched his fists, but didn't move other than that. Dean quickly bandaged the wounds. He'd stitch them up after he had gotten himself taken care of, he wouldn't be any good to Sam if he got worked over by an infection.
"That should hold for now. I'll have to stitch a few up."
Sam nodded and painfully moved up against the headboard. Dean pulled off his shirt and applied the holy water and peroxide method to his own wounds.
"Need any help?" Sam's voice was rough.
"I'm all right." Dean glanced up with a smile.
Thankfully Dean didn't have to be stitched up. A few bandages and a swig of whiskey and Dean was just fine. Sam was half asleep when Dean moved next to him. Blood had soaked through the bandages on Sam's chest and arm. Carefully, Dean removed the gauze.
He looked up at Sam. "You want a drink first?"
Sam paused. "Yeah."
Dean passed him the bottle and Sam took a swig. He grimaced as it burned and passed the bottle back. Sam usually didn't drink, but Dean knew that every now and then he would, especially when things had been rough. Rough was an understatement for what had happened.
"Something for the pain?" Dean grabbed a bottle from the bag.
Dean looked up. "Sam, getting stitched up hurts. You know that."
Sam lowered his eyes away from Dean's. "I don't want anything else messing with my consciousness. Not right now."
Dean gripped Sam's wrist. "Sure. Ready?"
Sam nodded. Sam's jaw was set and his hands clenched as Dean worked. Thankfully Dean could be quick and accurate, for both their sakes. Dean taped fresh gauze over the wounds and packed away the first aid kit. Sam was exhausted, but sleep was the last thing he wanted. He was reluctant to give into unconsciousness. Dean knew.
"It's gone, Sam. You're back to normal." He smiled. "Well, your normal."
Sam managed a small smile. "Jerk."
Dean pulled on a shirt and eased onto his bed.
He looked over at Sam. "What's going through your head, geek-boy?"
Sam shrugged. "Nothing."
Dean sat up. "I find that hard to believe. Level with me, Sam."
He looked over and swallowed. "I should have known sooner." He muttered.
"Sammy, as much as I hate to admit it, that was one clever son of a bitch. You know as well as I do that we can pick a demon from miles away."
"I could have hurt you."
"It wasn't after me." Dean sighed, he really didn't want to have this conversation, but he had to. "It told me something, Sam, something I need to know if it's true or not."
Sam sat up, already defensive. "Okay."
Dean stood and paced the small room. "It said some things, at the end."
"I remember some of those things." He whispered, not liking the direction the conversation was heading in.
"Then you know where I'm going with this." He stopped and looked at his brother.
Sam looked up at him through his hair. "Not exactly." He lied.
Dean sat on the end of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. "You thought about killing yourself?"
He froze, even held his breath for a second. "It's not what you think, Dean. Wasn't really serious, just, just an option."
"An option?" He looked up at Sam, as much to catch his eyes as to read his body language.
"For a second. Think about it, Dean. Without me, you'd have a whole lot less shit in your life."
Dean stood. "No, Sammy. There'd be the same shit, I just wouldn't have anyone to cover my back when I get in too deep."
Sam looked up, shocked. "I never would have." He looked down at his wrist and realized it made him seem like a hypocrite.
Dean sat down again, exhausted from everything. "I know. I just don't like that you ever had to think that seemed like an option." He paused. "Saving you from yourself is the one thing I can't do, and I hate that."
Sam met his brother's eyes. "I know. Same goes for me."
"Make sure it's not an option again, Sam. Okay?"
He nodded. "Hey, Dean?"
Sam bit back a smirk. "Does the saving you from yourself thing apply to some of the girls you pick up in bars?"
Dean smiled. "No. My taste in the ladies is fantastic, you're the one who needs help."
"Really, because I'm pretty sure the last one had a third nostril."
Sam didn't have time to duck the pillow that was thrown at his head. He grabbed it and added it to the ones on his bed.
He slumped against them. "Thanks."
Dean rolled his eyes.
Sam looked over. "We're okay then?"
"I'm not hugging you." He smirked.
"Come on." Sam baited.
Dean grabbed the other pillow and stopped half way to throwing it. Sam looked over, amusement written all over his face. Dean instead tucked it behind him. He grabbed the remote and switched the television on. Sam let himself relax finally as Dean flipped through the channels. Dean glanced over and Sam was asleep, he leaned over and grabbed his pillow back. Sam shifted, but didn't wake.
"Goodnight, Sammy." He whispered and turned back to the movie he stumbled across. Dean fell asleep to the flicker of the television.