A/N: Ok, so this is my first Supernatural fic, although I've been reading for ages. I'm anxious to know what you guys think. Umm, just a note: I'm not American, and have never been to America, so sorry if the geography is wrong. So yes, other than that, hope you enjoy! Oh yes, this is probably set somewhere in the 2nd season. Possibly 3rd. Or 1st. Ok, basically sometime before the 4th season.

A Hard Night's Night

The unmistakable sound of a groan followed by a thump echoed throughout the small room.

Sam shot up from his bed, head snapping to his left, where his brother slept.

Or was supposed to be sleeping.

Instead, the bed was empty, it's covers pulled back, the pillows slightly askew. Sam frantically clambered out of his own nice warm bed, his lanky limbs moving slowly after their last hunt. He headed blearily towards the bathroom, his head still pounding after the fall he took. He pushed open he bathroom door to find Dean lying on the floor, blood leaking out of a wound on his upper arm. It was a deep hole, just below his right shoulder. Sam's eyes widened at the sight. He hadn't realised his brother had been hurt.

They had been at the Saint Croix River Valley, on the border of Minnesota and Wisconsin, investigating the mysterious deaths that had been occurring every 5 years since 1937. The victims were found lying in various areas of the valley with a gaping hole in their stomach, however no weapon of any type matched the wounds found on the victim. After researching a bit, the boys had realised it was a hoop snake, a legendary creature that was supposed to live in that area. Unfortunately, their research had left out a rather vital piece of information; the hoop snake was extremely intelligent. It was no ordinary snake; it was smart, and could plan. This had made their job a lot harder, resulting in Sam slamming his head on a rock and Dean narrowly avoiding being stabbed by the hoop snakes tail. Or so Sam had thought.

"Sam, MOVE!" Dean's yell forced Sam in to action after being momentarily paralysed by finding out that the snake could actually think.

Sam darted left, the snake rolling past him before performing a sharp turn and swinging around to face him. Sam heard Dean panting behind him.

"Nasty bugger doesn't give up, does he?" Dean muttered darkly, his hand tightly gripping a dagger, the only weapon that could work on such an animal. Sam grunted in agreement, his eyes fixed on the creature coming towards them. It gripped its tail in its mouth and began rolling towards them. Both Sam and Dean stood tense, shoulder-to-shoulder. It began picking up speed, covering more ground. At the last minute, the two brothers jumped apart, Sam to the left, Dean to the right. As Sam moved however, his foot caught on a rock, sending him sprawling and smashing his head on another rock, and knocking him unconscious. Dean meanwhile was focusing on slicing the snake into two. However, the sight of his little brother falling onto the ground distracted him.

"Sam!" Dean yelled out. Suddenly, the hoop snake was right in front of him. He swung the dagger, catching the creature across its stomach, but not before it struck him. Its tail speared into his upper arm, just below his shoulder. Dean let out a yelp as the tail pierced his arm, but pushed the pain aside and instead focused on killing the sucker. Just like their father had taught him to. He swung the blade again; aiming for the same cut he had caused the first time. This time, the blade managed to cut the hoop snake straight in half. It gave a violent hiss before dropping, dead, onto the floor. Dean let out a ragged breath, the pain of his wound coming back full force. However, there was no time to worry about himself. Sammy was still lying on the ground, unconscious.

Sam rushed to Dean's side, gripping his older brothers left shoulder.

"Dean? Dean, you with me buddy?" He shook Dean a bit, rewarded with another groan and a flickering of eyelids. Dean slowly, slowly opened his eyes, showing Sam his green orbs.

"S'mmy?" Sam gave a small smile.

"Yes, you idiot, it's me. What he hell were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me it got you? You've lost so much blood… we might have to take you to hospital!" Dean struggled to sit up, gripping Sam's shirt as if it were a lifeline.

"No. No hospital. 'M fine…" he said unconvincingly.

"Yeah? Well, you don't look fine to me."

Dean was pale, his freckles standing out against his pale skin. His skin was cold, his breathing quite irregular. What worried Sam the most though was the sigh of his shirt, which was covered in blood. Dean had managed to cover it up with his jacket when they were driving back to the motel, and to be honest, Sam had been so out of it that he hadn't noticed the small winces Dean had made every so often on the drive back. Which was exactly what Dean had been counting on.

Now, Dean looked pitifully up at Sam, his eyes large, and his lips formed in a small pout.

"Please Sam. No hospital?"

Sam huffed. Whoever had said he was the manipulative one who could pull off the puppy dog eyes and pout had never been with an injured Dean.

"Fine," he grumbled. Dean smiled weakly at him.

"Good. Now help me up off this freakin' freezing floor," he mumbled, hauling himself to his feet with Sam's help. He lurched slightly, being steadied by Sam's hand on his chest. Dean raised his hand and shooed Sam's hand away.

"No chick flick moments, dude."

Sam shook his head, a smile on his face. Then he had to shut his eyes for a minute, a dizzy feeling coming over him. Next thing he knew, he was seated on the edge of a bed- Dean's bed, he realised- with his older brother hovering next to him. Once the dizzy feeling in his head had gone, he raised his head.

"Dude, what would you do without me?" Dean asked.

Sam grinned at him.

"Take nice hot showers, listen to normal music on a CD, not have porn on my computer... the list goes on." He replied.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"You know you love me." With that, he attempted to put Sam to bed. But Sam refused to comply.



"I'm 23! And besides, just because I said we wouldn't go to a hospital, doesn't mean your arm is fine. I need to look at it."

Dean sigh.

"Yes, Samantha," he said. But he sat still as Sam cleaned and bandaged his arm tightly. Once he was done, Sam turned to Dean.

"Ok, NOW you can go to bed."

"'M not tired."

"Dean, you're falling asleep!"

"Am not.

"Are too!"


"Dean, your eyes just closed!"

"You're imagining things, Sam. With that hit to your head, I'm not surprised."

"Dean, I refuse to have this conversation with you. Come on, you're going to bed."



"I'm the older brother. I tuck you in bed."

"I'm 23!"

"I'm 27!"

"… your injured!"

"And you have a concussion. Come on, Sammy. Time for bed."

Dean tucked Sam into bed. And despite all his complaints, Sam didn't try to stop him. Once Dean fell into his own bed, he fell asleep straight away, leaving Sam to ponder a question Dean had previously asked.

"What would you do with me?"

Sam looked at the still form of his brother lying on the other bed. Dean's light breathing filled Sam with a sense of safety, knowing that the one constant in his life was still with him.

"I'd die, Dean."

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