Hello, all. This story is an Ultimate Hurt!Sam, 'cause I love that stuff. :) It takes place after 4.20, The Rapture. I don't have much to say, just that I hope you like it!


Of Brothers and Bloody Messes

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."

~Friedrich Nietzsche

"Dean, just let me drive. You're tired." Sam answered stiffly but surely, his voice tingling with annoyance at his brother's stubbornness.

The cold shoulder he was currently receiving is because of last week. The warehouse wasn't one of his best memories. As relieved as Sam was on arriving and learning Castiel was still alive, the demon blood... that's a different story.

And to go back to the motel and have to excuse himself to go scrub dried demon blood off of his face? Not one of his brightest moments. But now Dean knew the truth about what Sam's been doing behind-the-scenes and he was having trouble ignoring the sideways glances of disaprovement. The man was practically emanating in stenchy waves of disappointment. He'd believed Sam was done with that, and Sam'd let him down.

"No, Sam. It's my car. Don't want you screwing it up." Sam had to admit that stung a little.

"Dean, you've been driving for forever. All day. Just let me." Dean shook his head. "Well, why don't you just steer from there? You can use your nifty little psychic powers!"

Sam groaned, and even Dean realized how harsh this all sounded. But he was having trouble feeling sorry for his little brother. For God's sake, the kid's new hobbie is sucking blood!

Sam shaded his eyes as he sat upright in his seat, the sun slowly lowering into the mountain-bordered skyscape.

"Where's the nearest rest stop?"

"Dunno. A few hours at least. If you haven't noticed, we're kinda in the middle of nowhere."

Sam hesitated before continuing. "Look, Dean-"

"No. No, no, no, no. Don't 'Look, Dean' me. We are not discussing this." The hunter stared adamantly ahead, watching the earthen landscape fly by. He might've offered to stop at the Grand Canyon if he was on speaking terms with his brother. It wasn't far, but he sure wasn't going to be the one to break and apologize first just to ride down a canyon sweating on a donkey. Probably surrounded by tourists, too.

"We've got to talk about this. If we're even going to think about doing a decent job together in wherever the hell we end up, we've gotta work this out!"

Dean chuckled. "Who said we're working together on the next case? Wouldn't you rather hang with Ruby? Bet youcan take a hickey to a whole new level."

"Yeah? Who's going to do all your precious research? Stitch you up? Print new fake IDs?"

Scoffing, the older brother replied, "Who says I can't do all that stuff? Please, your useless. Maybe I should just dump your ass on the side of the road somewhere."

"Dean. Stop the car."

"No way. Why should I?"

"Because, Dean." But his companion wasn't getting the hint. "I've got to go." He hissed, as if someone would overhear them.

Finally, the eldest rolled his eyes and pulled over to the side of the deserted road. "Hurry up, or I'm really leaving you."

Sam muttered something profane as he slid out and slammed the door angrily behind himself. Dean watched as he disappeared into the brush on the side of the road a little ways away.

Figuring it would be a minute, he kicked back and turned up the music, Zeppelin booming through the car as he mouthed the words, silently grateful for some alone time when he was only halfway through what would be a very long, uncomfortable car ride.

Minutes passed as Dean grew increasingly impatient. Come on, Sam. We got places to be. I want to be in the next town over by sundown.

Finally, he'd had enough. "Sam, zip up and get in the car already!" He called, locking the car door as he traipsed after his brother's path into the bushes.

But Sam was no where to be seen. "Sam?" No answer but silence. "Sam!" This time he heard a faint groan from somewhere below him. All the anger he'd felt for his brother less than a minute ago had vanished, replaced with worry as he jumped down the shallow cliff.

He couldn't see his brother anywhere and was digging through the overgrowth when he heard another soft groan. Dean quickly followed the sound, growing more and more anxious as he stumbled over branches.

They were on the side of a deep canyon, unnoticeable from the road, but apparently extremely dangerous if your trying to find a decent spot to do your business in the woods.

Dean nearly fell on his brother when he found him. Sam was breathing heavily, and the older brother saw a growing stain in his side.

"Sammy?" Sam looked up at Dean, his eyes already hazy.

"Dean?" He whispered.

"Yeah, I'm here." Dean looked closer at the wound and could just see the tip of what looked to be a very rusty knife. "Dammit." He couldn't leave the knife in there. Not when it was rusty and might cause an infection. He needed to get that out as soon as possible.

"Can you sit up?" Sam nodded, his eyes closed tightly in pain. Dean put one hand on Sam's back and the other on his shoulder. "On three: One, two, three." He gently pulled up on his brother, but had only gone a few inches when Sam's eyes shot open and he screamed bloody murder.

"Stop! Please! Stop!" Sam panted heavily.

"Okay, okay..." Dean held Sam up in the same angle, a few inches off the ground, and looked under him to see what the problem was. The hilt of the knife was lodged halfway beneath the surface, which explained why it'd been sticking up in the first place. It was just Sam's stupid luck to land on it.

He reached one hand under and dug around the leaves and hard dirt surrounding the knife until it was looser. "Again," Dean's voice shook as he turned to face Sam. "One. Two. Three!"

This time Sam sat all the way up, the knife as well. "Dean... It hurts."

"I know, Sammy, I know." He took off his jacket and his top shirt, trying to stop the blood flow. Within seconds the shirt was turning red. "We need to get you back up the cliff." Sam nodded.

"Can you stand up?" Dean asked. Sam nodded again, but when Dean pulled him to a standing position, Sam's legs buckled and he grabbed onto Dean's arm, pulling the older man down with him.

"Okay... It's okay." Dean said, sitting up.

Sam shook his head. "T-try again. Dean." No way was he going to be the deadweight Dean thought he was. He'd show him: he was strong.

He was helped up slowly, and this time he managed to stay that way, stumbling along as Dean half-dragged, half-carried him up the incline.

When they reached the car, Dean stopped. "I'm going to lay you down in the back, okay?" Sam nodded. He dug in his jacket for his keys, but came up with nothing.

"Crap!" Dean checked all of his pockets as Sam leaned against the car, barely awake. Even his lock picking kit was in the car. "I'll be right back." He hurried back down the side of the canyon.

Like hell he'll be back, Sam thought sleepily. This is just a poor excuse to leave me.Foggy mind causing him to forget that Dean had gone to look for his keys and he would never leave without his precious Impala, Sam stumbled blindly towards the driver side door. He tried to yank on the handle, but only managed to stumble back. Sam probably would've fallen back down the canyon if Dean hadn't appeared out of nowhere to catch him.

"Woah, Sam." Dean led his bleeding brother back to the car and Sam vaguely heard the jingling of sleigh bells, though it might've been the keys.

"Thought you weren't c'ming b'ck." Sam breathed, and Dean felt a pang of guilt in his heart. Had he really been that harsh? He groaned as the hilt flashed in the setting sun. The hunter opened the back door and Sam practically fell in clumsily.

Dean grabbed everything he needed and hurried back to his brother, face down on the bench seat. "This is going to sting." Dean warned.

"Shots?" Sam mumbled into the leather.

"N- Yes." The hunter said on second thought. His brother was confused, that wasn't good, but at least he'd be more relaxed this way.

He was right. Sam's body, which had been stiff and tense before was now sagging with relief. He had nothing to be worried about anymore, it's just shots. Dean cut through Sam's shirt a little more in the back so he could work around the hilt. He cleaned the area around it but it didn't do much good- there was too much blood.

Dean couldn't wait any longer. Shaking hands attached themselves to the knife and pulled slowly as Sam sucked in a deep breath in pain. The knife finally came out and Dean threw it aside to assess the wound.

Sam groaned subconsciously and shifted slightly, hissing in the pain of the movement. This cut was deep, really deep. Dean was too scared to stitch it- so many things could go wrong. And if that rust had gotten deep in there for too long, keeping the infected area stitched closed wouldn't be a good idea. If doctors had to do anything they'd have to pull them out again.

Sitting his drowsy brother up, Dean wrapped the wound heavily, and Sam lay back down on his back, eyes squeezed closed.

Dean sped away, already dialing Bobby's number. Sam was breathing raggedly in the backseat and Dean grew worried for a moment that his educated guess about the knife not hitting anything major was wrong, but told himself otherwise. Their family was pretty practiced at almost-fatal wounds.

"Bobby..." Dean sighed in relief when the man answered.

"I was meaning to call you. Got a Rugaru I thought you guys might want to hit. That is, when your done with your case."

"Bobby." Dean repeated. That seemed to be all he could say.

"Dean? You okay?"

"Sam isn't, Bobby." Dean's voice cracked as he glanced back. "He got stabbed. We need help, but we're hours from civilization."

"Okay. Dean. I- I'll see if I can find someone in the area... Hang in there." Bobby hung up and the older brother turned to check on Sam again. He was shivering, staring at the roof of the car. "Sam?" Dean worriedly pulled over again.

Sam was vibrating, his face glistening in sweat, a sure sign of-

"Crap!" Dean yelled. "Fever..." He rummaged through first the glovebox, then everything else he owned for some sort of painkiller. Sam seemed uncomfortably asleep and Dean sped off in the direction of the nearest town.

Dean needed something to calm his nerves. Sam had woken up a few times, but he always went back to sleep after a while. It scared Dean how exhausted Sam was. Usually his brother tended to stay wide awake with a fever, giving him plenty of time to annoy Dean about it, but the older man sensed it was the stab wound talking.

If only Castiel was here, but last time they'd seen him he'd made it clear that he did not serve man anymore, only heaven.

Dean wanted the old Cass back.

He figured he was hallucinating when a light appeared out of the gaining darkness ahead of him. A mirage of some sort, it seemed to taunt him, with images of drugstores and medication and help.

As he got nearer, Dean floored it, in awe that maybe someone higher up really was watching over him. Did Heaven have guardian angels?

If it wasn't for the overall rundown quality of the place, Dean would've thought the flickering lights were a sign of demonic activity, but they seemed pretty average for a place like this.

He pulled into a spot and jumped out, touching his little brother on the shoulder. "Sammy? Can you stand up?" Sam groaned and opened his eyes enough to make eye contact and shake his head.

"Okay..." Dean said, stuffing his gun into the back of his pants. "I'll be right back, I promise." He left the motor running to help cool Sam off and locked the car door before stepping into the Grab'n'Go.

The tingling of the bell raised the old man at the register's head and he seemed surprised to see a customer. Dean nodded seriously and grabbed everything he thought he might need, including bandages, every medicine he could find that might help with the pain, a bucket in case there was a repeat of Sam's puking, and some bottles of water.

"Everything all right?" The man asked at the nature of Dean's purpose.

Dean ignored the question. "How long until we hit town?"

"A few hours still." He replied, bagging the items at snail pace. "Don't ask me why they built a convenience store in the middle of nowhere."

Dean frowned and glanced at the Impala, dropping the glass of beer he'd been holding with a shatter. "Sam!"

He dropped his stuff and ran past the confused older man until he reached the car and the thieves trying to break into it. Apparently they hadn't noticed Sam in the backseat, too tired to speak up.

"Drop it now!" One man said, countering Dean's cocked gun for his own aimed at Sam's head. So they had noticed him. "Or I blow his brains out." Dean backed off and dropped his gun reluctantly.

"Now back away from the car!" Dean did as he was told and prayed to god the old man inside wasn't oblivious. One of the posse punched out the window on Sam's surprised face and unlocked the door.

He dragged Sam out, a knife held dangerously against his throat. "D-don't hurt him!" Dean yelled.

The man snickered and began to move him towards the door when the other stopped him. "Hold on, Brent, this one's already hurt!" Brent stopped and looked down at Sam, now unconscious. He shrugged and continued making his way to the door. "In! Now!" He ordered. Dean stepped over spilled beer and broken glass as he moved into the shop and watched Sam being manhandled.

"Put 'im on the floor." Brent pointed his gun at a corner, where Sam was limply set down.

Dean moved to take a step forward. "Freeze! Or he goes!" The gun pointed at Sam again.

"Come on, man." Dean tried to reason logically. "You wouldn't really just kill someone cold-heartedly for no good-"

The gun went off with a bang and the old man behind the counter fell dead to the floor, his ruby red blood instantly pooling.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean spat, honestly stupefied the man had followed through. "What the hell?" He pulled out his back up gun. Now was his chance, but he didn't even get a chance to think about pulling the trigger.

"Drop. The gun." The bearded man repeated, gun aimed ruthlessly at Sam, who had woken up and was staring droopy-eyed at his brother. "Now." Dean raised his hands and dropped his gun to the floor with a clang that sounded throughout the empty drugstore. That sound would be seared into Dean's brain forever, of his gun falling, and his attempt to either save his brother by complying or foolishly letting go of his only weapon.

"Alright, we're empty-handed. Just take what you want and go."

The man smirked. "It's not that easy. We can't have you or your friend chasing after us."

Dean glanced at his brother, worry frowns still showing despite his pain. "Sammy won't hurt a fly." At least, not until he's fit enough to kick your ass.

"That's enough! You're done!" The man snarled angrily and frustratedly.

Sam was slipping from consciousness even faster. "D'n!" He whispered. Dean ran over even as the robbers screamed for him to stop.

"D'n..." He repeated, inches from his brother.

"Sammy. It's alright. You'll be okay-"

"No! Dean, I w'n't. 'n you know it." He paused to catch his breath. "D'n?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"I love you." Neither brother, born on the rough road of stitching cuts and killing at ten, had ever said this, for fear of being teased, but now it resounded through the room, brotherly words unsaid but always felt.

Dean held Sam sadly, tears in his eyes. "Love ya too, Sammy." Sam closed his eyes and as the butt of a gun slammed into Dean's head he smiled. It was barely there, but the last thing he remembered before blacking out was the feebly desperate sound of Sam's heart thumping.


Ta-da! Part one! Oh, the blood! The misery! Anyway, I hope you liked it! Please review if you did! I'd really appreciate hearing from you! Those following my other story, Flawed and Perfect, don't worry, I'll post there soon, too. Until next time, Thanks for reading!