This could be set any season. No spoilers. For a prompt on the Sam Week Comment fic meme on ohsam: The prompt was from authoressnebula. I will give it at the end. Completely unbeta'd. Please be gentle.

Until Death Do us Part

Sam was dying.

It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would.

Well not anymore, anyway.

Those first few days, though? They'd been a bitch…

Sam had no idea where Dean was right now.

During moments of lucidity, he knew that was a good thing.

For Dean anyways.

For Sam?

Not so much.

Sam watched as the creature lumbered towards him.


It always came to him in the dark.

To feast.

And this time it was no different.

Sam screamed as the monster nibbled on his foot.

I need that toe!

I need that toe!

Blessed oblivion was just out reach.

Wasn't he dead yet?

Why couldn't he be dead yet?

Sam was still dying when morning came.

And this time it hurt.

Where was Dean?

Who was Dean?

Fogginess befuddled his thinking.

Blood loss, he knew and wondered if he still had a foot.

He'd look later, he decided as his eyes slipped closed once again, if he was still alive.

"Sam? Sammy? Oh fuck-"

Gentle hands cup his jaw, forcing Sam's head up.

He doesn't remember falling to sleep but he must have.

The pain is muted now.

No, not muted, he realizes, he just feels above it.

Light and airy.

He feels like a balloon ready to be released into a blue sky –

Except something is buzzing around him and convalescing into words; a verbal tether that keeps him from floating away…

It pisses him off.

Sam wants to go but someone is talking to him.

"C'mon, c'mon, don't do this to me-"

Fingers, burning hot, press against his throat.


A wet breath against his face finally forces a response and Sam shivers.

"Oh thank god!"

The sheer and desperate relief in that voice can't be denied and Sam opens his eyes, slowly. The lids feel weighted down and he knows it isn't supposed to be this hard. He wants to be the balloon again –

But that look on his brother's face? The relief, worry, determination… love?

He's not so ready to float away anymore…

Sam smiles: it feels jagged but he gets one back in return.

"Shit, Sam, you gave me a scare!"

The words lack bite and Sam tries to remember his brother's name. It is there, on the tip of his tongue… but there is a slug in his head where his brain is supposed to be, and he can't make it move so he can think around it.

Blood loss. The two words curl around the slug like smoke, but it doesn't make sense to him and it is just easier to close his eyes and finish dying -

"Oh no you don't. Open your eyes, Sam."

A light smack stings his face and pain registers. A loan moan whistles past his cracked and bloody lips. Hasn't he been hurt enough, yet?

Sam doesn't open his eyes though.

His brother is talking again but Sam is slipping further away.

The words no longer make sense to him, but hearing them still offers him comfort.

A sudden burst of fresh pain breaks the tether and Sam finally floats away…

Dean is frantic. Sam has lost consciousness again and this is really fucking bad. The creature, as of yet unnamed since Dean still hadn't seen it, had grabbed Sam three days ago while the brothers had been poking around for information on missing hikers.

Tracking it had been a bitch and it was only sheer dumb luck that he'd found this series of caves and eventually, Sam.

Sam, who'd been strung up by his wrists and - Dean closed his eyes briefly to swallow back the bile – snacked on. The worst of the damage seemed to be his brother's lower legs and feet. In some places, the flesh seemed stripped almost to the bone and Dean knew there'd be scars. But scars were something Sam could live with.

Get a grip on yourself, Dean mentally chastised. He still had to cut his brother down and get him the hell out of here before the monster, whateverthehellitwas, returned for another munch. He'd get Bobby to come back with him to help take care of it, once Sam was safe.

A couple of other bodies hung nearby, the flesh stripped, and Dean tried to ignore them as he carefully cut his brother down. Sam groaned and struggled against him when Dean lowered him to the ground then crouched next to him.

"Hey, hey," Dean tried to keep the worry from his tone as he quickly eyed the cavern for any sign of the returning monster before looking back down at his brother. "There you are." He smiled encouragingly when he saw Sam watching him, his brother's eyes open to mere slits. Dean doubted that Sam was very aware but kept talking as he did a quick triage to see what, other than the obvious injuries to Sam's lower extremities, he needed to know about. "If you wanted some down time, all you had to do was ask – this is a bit extreme, even for you."

Sam blinked.

"All right then," Dean sighed as his fingers ghosted over dark bruising on his brother's stomach. "Shit! Sorry, sorry," he yanked his hands back when Sam actually mewled in pain and tried to lurch away. Dean scrubbed a hand down his face and swore softly. Sam's stomach was distended, probable internal injuries. His legs were a mess and Dean didn't even have a clue how to start to fix them. "Okay, Sammy – look," Dean exhaled out a worried breath as he cast another vigilant glance around. He had to get his brother out of here. Now. Weighing his options and deciding they all sucked, Dean leaned forward over his brother and tried to sound more confident than he was feeling. "Time to get you the hell out of here."

Glancing at the weapons bag he'd first dropped on the cave floor when he'd seen his brother, Dean chewed his lip for a moment. He hated to do it but it was going to have to stay behind. With his legs and feet messed up, there was no way Sam was going to be walking anywhere, compounded with probable internal injuries, there was also no way Dean was going to be able to carry him over his shoulder either. So that left one thing. Dean was going to have to use a bridal carry, and there was just no way in hell he was going to be able to carry his brother and that bag. It was doubtful just how far he was going to be able to carry his brother as it was. Sam wasn't exactly a small guy.

But, Dean decided to be positive. Neither was he.

"Alrighty then," Dean tried for cheerful for a barely conscious Sam's sake as he carefully slid an arm under his brother's knees and another behind his back and prepared to stand. "Here we go." Taking another moment to brace himself for the lift, Dean took a few deep breaths and started to stand.

Holy Mother of God, Sam was heavy.

Groaning under the strain, Dean's arms actually shook and his whole body threatened to buckle as he slowly stood, one foot to push up and then, agonizingly moments later, the other. His back screamed and he felt slightly nauseous as he staggered for a moment under the weight, but then a soft whimper like noise fortified his determination and worry shoved steel-like threads of adrenaline through his body. If he didn't do this, Sam would die and that was not an option.

Slowly, one step at a time, Dean carried his brother out of the cave.

Sam's awareness was reed-thin. He was moving, could see his brother's red face above him, but it didn't make sense.

"Won't be m-much longer…"

His body felt numb but warm where it was being held against his brother.

"You're going… to be… okay…"

Sudden brightness had Sam moaning as he turned his face away, pushing it against the soft material of his brother's shirt. It smelled of sweat and bacon.

"Sh, sh, it's okay, bro… just the s-sun – I know… I know… b-ut it's 'kay… we're almost a-at… the c-car. Everything's… going to… to be okay…"

Dean sounded strange. His words panted and out of breath sounding.


That was his brother's name.

Just remembering it settled something inside Sam.

"D'n," he slurred and felt the slightly jarring movements hesitate before continuing.

"S'okay… save… strength, we're a-almost… there."

Sam had no idea where 'there' was but didn't care.

And then he was being put down, Dean's body no longer solid and warming. Panic flared but then he heard the familiar sound of a door squeaking and Sam relaxed.

He was safe.

He was home.

Sam passed out.

"How the hell did you ever manage to carry him?" an awed sounding doctor asked twelve hours later as he stood next to Dean at the foot of Sam's hospital bed. "He's a pretty big guy."

One major surgery and a plastic surgeon consult later, Sam was resting comfortably in a recovery room, his legs and feet bandaged and elevated, the blankets covering everything else.

Dean's body ached, his muscles still burned with fatigue, but when he glanced at the guy, he just shrugged and said, "I'm his brother."

There was nothing else to say.

The End

Prompt: I don't care what the situation. I just want Dean carrying Sam bridal style. Like there's literally no other option but that. Head injury Dean's afraid to mess with by carrying him fireman style, wound he's trying to keep from bleeding out on Sam's hip, ANYTHING. I don't want there to be a huge hospital scene, though. Just Dean carrying Sam to safety, frantic but reassuring Sam that it's gonna be okay.