Title: What's up Doc?

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: Takes place directly after s1e09 "Home" Some hurt!sam with a sprinkling of hurt!dean, some limp action.

Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P



"Sam!" Chief Whitefeather scrambled to his feet and into his office. He grabbed up the salt shaker on his desk and ran back out to the prone Hunter. As he made to spray salt through the ghost, it howled and vanished leaving both men panting. Sam moaned and rolled to his side, curling his legs into his chest reflexively.

"Sam." The Chief dropped beside him and tried to straighten him out. Sam shook his head, eyes closed.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, trying not to expand his chest. Pain and exhaustion pulled at him, trying to drag him under. "See…see if he's ok. Please."

"He's fine, Sam." Dave laid a hand on the back of the boys head, offering what little comfort he could and cradled his other arm against his own wounded stomach. "He'll be here soon."


Dean closed his eyes and braced himself against the seat as the Impala hit the water. The impact jerked him forward and slapped his head into the steering wheel. He kept his foot on the gas and powered through the shallow pond. The water rose in waves and crested over the car, washing the offending dust and dirt from her frame. Dean encouraged her on through the pond as they reached the other side.

"That's it, baby. Come on." Dean pleaded and heaved a breath of relief when they emerged on the opposite bank. He left her running and stumbled out the door to look. She was sparkling black against the backdrop of the pond, water sheeting from her classic lines. Three very pissed off ducks quacked loudly at him from the top of the trunk before returning to the pond.

"Oh bite me." Dean said to the ducks and patted the Impala's roof. "Good job, baby." The engine hiccuped, sputtered and with a last roar, died. "Oh no, no, no, no. Come on, Baby!" Dean got back in and turned her over to no effect. "Dammit." The engine had flooded. He wiped trickling blood from his eyes and found a small gash above his eye with his fingers.

"Great. I'll be back sweetheart." He patted the steering wheel and slid back out. Dean saw the mayhem seemed to have stopped. He groaned and started back around the pond, forcing his aching head to cooperate as he broke into a run back to the meeting hall and Sam.

Dean reached the hall, one hand on his head to keep the blood out of his eye and burst inside. "Sam!" Dean was instantly across the floor and at his brothers' side. Chief Whitefeather looked up at him and smiled.

"He wouldn't let me move him, just keeps asking for you." Dave looked at the blood on Dean's face and frowned. "I'll be right back." He stood stiffly and hobbled off.

"Sammy?" Dean ran a hand down the back of his brothers head. "Come on, Sam. I'm here." He got his other hand on Sam's side and swore loudly. His hand came away bloody.

"Dean." Sam groaned and turned his head under Dean's hand. "You're ok? He gone?"

"Hey, little brother. Yeah he's gone for now." Dean helped him when Sam tried to roll toward him and got his upper body off the floor and in his arms. "Dude, you gotta stop freaking me out like this."

"Sorry." Sam grimaced and let his head roll into Dean's shoulder. "Just gonna…close my eyes…for a sec." His voice trailed off and his body went lax now he knew Dean was safe and with him. Dean chuckled softly.

"Yeah, you do that." Dean settled Sam's back against his chest and sighed.

"Here." Chief Whitefeather returned and handed Dean a washcloth. "Clean that off." He gestured to his head and then set a medical kit on the floor beside Sam. He peeled Sam's blood stained shirt up his chest and hissed in a breath. "Well, good news is I don't think the ghost did anything new. Just popped a few stitches." He took away the crumpled bandages and started cleaning the blood.

"Lemme guess." Dean wiped his face clean and set the rag aside. "You're the resident nurse around here too?"

Dave laughed lightly. "Chief, Shaman and fixer of booboos."

Dean snorted. "Oh man I am so using that when he wakes up." It made him nervous on a visceral level to watch someone else tending his brother but he trusted the Chief. He settled Sam more securely against his chest and watched. Sam shifted slightly and Dean held him still. "Hey, Sam?" He asked in Sam's ear. "Don't try to move yet."

Chief Whitefeather had cleaned the wounds for which Sam had mercifully stayed out. He set a new bandage over the stitches on Sam's rib, making him moan and try to twitch away. "How long did that sadistic spirit have him?"

"Too long." Dean replied. He looked down as Dave was placing the last bandage and saw Sam looked to have passed out again. "Sam? Sammy. Time to come back now."

Sam blinked his eyes open and groaned. "Why am I always waking up…on the floor lately?"

Dean laughed. "Winchester luck, little brother. Hold still."

Sam worked hard not to squirm and closed his eyes in relief when the Chief finished. "Thanks." He said and thumped the muscular arm across his upper chest. "Can I get up now?"

"I'm still thinking about it." Dean said seriously. The crisis past, his head was beginning to pound and adrenaline was seeping away leaving him longing for a bed. Dean's eyes sagged shut on their own. He dropped his forehead to the top of Sam's head in a daze.

Dean didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he felt Sam being pulled from his arms. He fought it, his mind stuck somewhere back at the Fort. He tightened his arms around his little brother.

"Dean? Dean it's alright. Let go."

It took Dean several moments to comprehend where he was, that it was Chief Whitefeather speaking and they were safe.

"Dean, let him go. We're trying to help." The Chief's voice soothed and he felt hands under his arms. "You're safe."

Dean felt Sam's hair against his face and rocked his head back. A hand was there to support it at the back of his neck.

"Easy, Dean." Chief Whitefeather propped him up while his men extricated Sam and carried him toward the back of the Hall. "You're concussed."

"Yeah. I got that." Dean groaned and got his eyes open. His head was crashing and pounding, tossing stars across his vision. He saw two men carrying Sam away and flinched again, wanting to stop them.

"Up you go." Dave and another man in nurse scrubs lifted Dean to his feet. They supported him when his legs went to Jello and followed the men with his brother. Dean sighed in relief and his head dropped forward again.


Dean woke slowly and swatted at the itch on his nose. It came back and he slapped at it again. A familiar snickering laugh made him open his eyes. He scowled at Sam sitting on the side of his bed with a long twig as he reached for Dean's nose again.

"Dude, are you five?" Dean groused and slapped his hand away. Sam laughed.

"I got bored waiting for you to wake up." Sam eased off the bed to stand. He was moving much better Dean noticed.

"How long was I out?" Dean wondered and sat up.

"It's tomorrow." Sam laughed at the shock on his big brothers face. "Dave said to let you sleep it out."

Dean swung his legs to the floor and gave his head a test shake, pleased when nothing rattled. Then the night before came back to him. His eyes widened. His jaw dropped and his face paled.

"Dean?" Sam grabbed his shoulders, scared at the sudden shock on Dean's face. "Dean! What's wrong?"

"Oh my god." Dean stared up at Sam and then shot from the bed and out of the room.

"Dean!" Sam chased after him, certain something horrible was wrong. He shrugged at Chief Whitefeather as they ran past and burst through the doors outside only to pull up in a skid. "I should have known." Sam groaned and slapped his head into his hand.

In the afternoon sun, his fierce, kick-ass, no chick flick moments big brother was caressing the sleek, black body of the Impala and crooning apologies to her.

The Chief stopped beside Sam and laughed. "I had her towed over here last night. My brother got her running again."

Sam had heard the story of how Dean had kamikazi'd the Chevy into the duck pond to the save the town and subsequently killed the engine.

"You know…" Dave nodded at Dean and his baby. "When you pour enough love for long enough into something be it a house or even…a car, they can gain a presence of their own."

Sam raised surprised brows. "And?"

"That car? She loves you boys." Chief Whitefeather grinned at Sam's shock and went to talk to Dean as the Impala's engine rumbled to life. Sam watched Dean grinning like a kid at Christmas in the driver seat, studied the car that had been home all his life and smiled.


The boys stayed one more night at the Reservation enjoying Chief Whitefeather's hospitality and his help finding the exact location of the Doctor's skull. They were where they belonged now, in the Impala and on the hunt.

"Think these will work?" Dean glanced at the new bracelet on his right wrist. It was leather and some sort of metal woven into it, cured in holy water and salt and had various Pawnee protective symbols etched into the surface.

"Dave thinks so." Sam shrugged and squinted as the sun began to creep above the horizon as they sped toward the Fort. "He said they should give us some temporary protection. Won't last long though."

"Awesome." Dean flexed his hands on the steering wheel and spent a moment just listening to the engine purr. "How you feeling?"

"Better. I'm good." Sam smiled reassuringly. "I can do this."

Dean gave him a calculating look and nodded. "I know you can." Sam was moving a lot better after the Chief's poultices and the various teas he'd made Sam drink. He'd given some to Dean as well. He'd drunk them under protest and stubbornly refused to admit how well they cleared his head. Dean played with the bracelet again and hoped it would work as advertised.


The sun blazed high overhead. The noonday heat lent an unreal shimmer to the land and Fort Atkinson as Dean parked the Impala outside the gate. He and Sam got out and went to the trunk. They each took shovels and a bag already loaded with what they'd need. Dean handed Sam the shotgun and looked up as he shut the trunk. Looming on the horizon was a long line of ominous dark clouds.

"Looks like mother nature's thinking about breaking this damn heat wave." Dean commented.

"Wish she'd hurry the hell up." Sam said softly. Dean looked over and frowned. Sam was staring at the Fort, absently rubbing a hand across his chest.

"Sammy?" Dean bumped his shoulder with his own. "Head in the game, man." He didn't want to but they'd sit out another day if Sam needed it.

Sam shook himself and smiled tightly. "I'm ok. Let's go." To prove it, Sam led the way under the gate. Dean nodded, proud.

"That's my boy." He murmured and followed.

Sam took his phone out of his back pocket and cued up the GPS. "This way." Sam walked quickly, the comforting presence of Dean at his back kept him calm despite the flashes of his time in the cellar that rose up to haunt him. Sam's phone chirped and he stopped, tucking it away. They stood in the center of the wide open space within the fort. "This is it." He and Dean dropped their bags and hefted the shovels.

"Game on." Dean said with a grin and dug his shovel in near Sam's feet.

They dug for ten minutes with no sign of the spirit. Sweat poured from both men and they were bare chested beneath the sun, Sam's chest and shoulders wrapped in bandages. Just as they thought they would get to the salt and burn unmolested, a howl went up from the surgery at the far end of the fort.

"We've been made." Sam panted and dug harder, ignoring the burning of his wounds. A wind picked up, either from the oncoming storm or the deceased and incensed Doctor, and whipped about Sam and Dean bringing brief respites from the heat. Dean looked up and wiped sweat from his brow.

"Shit!" Dean exclaimed. He dropped the shovel and grabbed up the shotgun, aiming at the specter that appeared above Sam.

Sam whirled; shovel raised and then looked at Dean. "Dude! You gonna shoot him or not?"

Dean shrugged and gave Doctor Lemke a face full of rock salt with a grin. "Bracelets are working. He didn't touch us!"

Sam's eyes widened and he smiled. "You watch for Caspar and I'll find the skull?"

Dean nodded and climbed up, shotgun in hand. "This is gonna be a lot easier now he can't jump us." He said with happy smile.

The Doctor however had other ideas. The wind increased as the storm clouds crawled overhead and began to block the sun. The temperature dropped a few degrees and Dean grunted when a piece of timber banged into his shoulder from behind.

"What the hell?" Dean exclaimed. He ducked as another piece of wood arrowed toward him. "Stay down and keep digging!" He yelled when Sam's head popped up. Dean watched as the roof of the jail shook and several tiles lifted into the air, hovered and then aimed straight for him. "Crap."

Sam dug furiously. It was clear that since the Doctor couldn't touch them himself, he was using whatever he could get his spirit hands on and hurling it at them. He dropped to his knees as roof tiles rained into the hole. Dean yelped above him.

"Dean?" Sam called.

"I'm ok!" Dean yelled back over the wind. "Find the damn skull!" Dean grunted again as a substantial piece of siding plowed into his knees and took him down. "Son of a bitch."

Sam shook the roof tiles off and drove the shovel into the ground again. This time, he hit something. He felt the thunk through the handle and dropped to his knees. Using his hands he dug, not wanting to risk shattering it and having to go through all this again. He heard the shotgun fire twice and Dean's cursing and tuned it out, focused on getting the skull out. His efforts were rewarded. Sam got his long fingers down in the now loose dirt and wrapped them around, bringing it out into the air. It was stained red from so many decades in the earth and covered in old Pawnee symbols.

"Dean! I got it!" Sam shouted up. He stood and tossed the skull up then gripped the sides of the hole and jumped. He lay half in, half out of the hole and felt something warm at his wrist. Sam looked as the heat continued to build and watched as the Pawnee bracelet slowly began to crumble. "Dammit not now!" He scrambled out and grabbed the skull again, reaching for the bag.

Dean knelt on the ground, face pained and held his own wrist up, watching the demise of the bracelet. "Hurry up, Sammy!"

Sam pulled the salt from the bag and liberally covered the skull before dousing it in lighter fluid. He was digging for the matches when he saw legs materialize in front of him. "DEAN!" The shotgun blasted and the legs vanished. Sam heaved a breath and dug desperately for the matches.

Dean stayed on his knees, unable to stand up for the pain in the back of his legs. He quickly reloaded the shotgun and threw himself backward as the Doctor appeared before him. He snapped the barrel shut and raised the gun. He looked over when Sam shouted and saw a fire flickering before him in the wind.

"Time's up, jackass!" Dean said to Doctor Lemke and smiled at him.

"NOooooo!" The ghost screamed, lunging through Dean and toward Sam. He never made it. The purifying fire did it's work and the Doctor was engulfed in flames to disappear for good.

Dean dropped onto his back, staring up at the sky and heaved a breath. "Nice timing, Sam!"

Sam crawled over to his brother and sat next to him. "Thanks." He held an arm protectively across his chest.

"He get you?" Dean dragged himself back to his knees and Sam shook his head with a weary smile.

"Did it to myself getting out of the pit."

Dean chuckled and then moaned in pleasure when fat raindrops started to fall. They were cool and felt heavenly on his sun burned skin. "Suppose we oughtta get out of here."

"Probably." Sam pulled their bag over and shoved the shotgun and shovels in before tossing the strap over his bare shoulder.

"Dude. Dammit you pulled more stitches." Dean chuckled and gestured at the spots of blood on Sam's bandages.

"Ah hell." Sam groaned and stood. He reached down and pulled on Dean's arm to get him up.

Dean hissed between his teeth. He figured the backs of his legs were going to be real pretty for a while from the way they felt. He leaned into Sam. Sam leaned on him and together they began the slow stumble back to the car.

"You're driving." Dean said and chuckled. "Don't think I can work the damn pedals right now."

Sam snorted. "Damn it must be bad for you to give up the wheel." He got his heavily limping brother to the passenger door and helped in then went round to the trunk, opened it and tossed in the bag. Sam wrapped both arms around his chest as he went to the driver's side and got in. "Hope Chief Whitefeather's up for some more company."

Dean laughed. "He's gonna pour more tea down your throat."

Sam flipped on the radio to an easy listening station and cranked the volume, knowing it would make Dean twitch.

"No way, Dude. We are NOT listening to this all the way back to the Res." Dean reached over to change the station and stared in shock when his baby brother slapped his hand away.

Sam revved the engine and shot the Impala away from the Fort before giving his brother an evil grin. "Driver picks the music." He said slowly and grinned even wider as Dean's face went red. "Shotgun…shuts his cakehole."


The End!