Another hunt another bloody injury. Ever since Dean came back from hell the brothers spent more time fighting the corporeal creepy crawlies of the supernatural world. Dean was determined to rid the world of evil, he was willing to risk his second life his limb anything in the quest to ensure someone else wouldn't have to suffer.
It was noble, it was heroic, and it meant that Sam and Dean were covered in bumps and bruises, minor cuts and abrasions, and after tonight, they could add stitches to their injury lists. Sam ran into some glass, okay, the ghost threw a shard of glass at him, and thankfully it just grazed his leg and didn't hit the femoral artery like Sam was fairly certain that it was aiming for. Thank God for long legs and the agility hunting had give him, or he would have been dead on the ground instead of back here at the motel room, slowly shrugging out of his jeans and looking at the deep wound on the outside of his thigh.
"I'll go get the suture kit." Dean said and left the room before Sam could protest. Sam sighed as he held the ruined shirt against the bleeding. He closed his eyes and willed it to not be as bad as he thought, hoped beyond hope that it really didn't need the suture kit. He didn't want Dean to touch his leg, didn't want his brother coming in contact with his blood, that was tainted, and that he further tainted with his exercises with Ruby.
Dean had a tendency to sweat when he stitched Sam up, tended to be precise and careful, and he didn't care how often he got his brother's blood on his hands, or if it was wiped on his forehead while he wiped the sweat from his brow. Dean always focused on his brother, completely and wholly when something was wrong, and Sam couldn't deny that his brother had tried to do the same thing over and over again since he returned from the pit, and he wouldn't deny that he hadn't allowed Dean to fall back into the role of older brother. So much had happened while Dean had been away, he had changed so drastically, and become something else entirely that he couldn't let his brother risk his life again for the monster he was becoming.
"Got it." Dean announced as he closed the door behind him. He crossed the three steps it took to get to his brother. "Lemme see Sammy." He said and tried to bat away Sam's hands.
"I'm fine Dean."
"You are sweating like a whore with two beds, you are obviously not fine. Let me look." Sam brushed his hands away from his leg.
"I said I'm fine. I'll take care of it Dean."
"Sam you can't sew yourself back up. I'll do it."
"I can do it Dean. Been doing it."
"You were in hell. Who did you think sewed me up?"
"Right. Because she is such a caring individual."
"Well, you had sex with her, I thought…"
"What? That we were in love?"
"Yeah. You aren't the love em and leave em kinda guy."
"Well maybe I am now."
"I can do it Dean. I don't need you to coddle me anymore. I'm a big boy now. I can sew this up, it's only a couple of stitches, I'll be fine." Dean stood up, moved away from the leg, and Sam felt his brother's sadness rather than saw it. He looked up at Dean and gave a brief smile, hoping to dissipate some of the sting that his words had inflicted. He simply couldn't have his brother touch his blood, couldn't have him get any of it inside him and taint him, hurt him, like he was hurting and tainting himself. Dean didn't deserve it, he had survived so much. This little injury of not allowing him to help wouldn't amount to anything in the long run. It didn't matter.
"Okay Sammy." Dean said softly and headed into the bathroom. He took the peroxide and began cleaning the wound on his cheek, and he caught his own eyes in the mirror, they were tainted eyes, they reflected the soul that had destroyed other souls, who had relished in their pain, their blood, the smell, and the feel of the knife in his hand. He knew why Sammy didn't want him to touch him, to help him with the wound. Sam knew what he did in Hell, didn't trust him anymore, didn't trust that he would help and not hurt. His hands had done so much damage, that Sam feared they would do more of the same. Dean could never hurt his baby brother, but then again, he never though he could torture someone and enjoy it. His days of being able to take care of other people were over, and that, he realized, was the part of himself he had left in the pit. It was a horrible piece to have left there. It made him human, it made him a good person, it made him less of a monster. He tore his eyes away from the mirror before tears could well in his eyes, and tended to his own wounds.