Title: Blood and Pain For Nothing
Author: LittleLonnie
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Sam and Dean
Spoilers: For 7x15
Summary: After the screen goes black in 7x15 Dean eventually wakes up to a sight he hadn't expected.


Dean grunted as he woke up and lifted his head from the bed. He grimaced when he saw the dark spot of his drool on the bed before drying his hand over his mouth and slowly sat up. He just sat there for ten seconds, taking in the room. Quiet. No little brother – yet his jacket and shoes were there.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, voice hoarse,

"Where are you my glittering puppy?" he joked. Nothing. He sighed and got to his feet and stretched his arms high above his head, joints groaning. He frowned when there was not a single sign or sound from his brother.

"Sam, don't make me come in there," Dean warned as he went over to the only possible place Sam could be. The bathroom. The door was open though so he bravely stuck his head in, hoping he wouldn't catch a glimpse of naked little brothers.

"Sammy!" Dean instantly tensed the moment he saw his too big little bother in the tub, fully clothed and his body filling the poor little tub. His long legs were bent so his knees stuck up to fit his whole body in there. One of his arms were lying over his tummy while the other was hanging over the side of the tub, finger tips just barely touching the bathroom floor, blood dripping down from it.

The moment Dean fell to his knees beside the tub and grabbed Sam's arm, Sam jumped just a little, startled by his brother's presence. He didn't say anything, just closed his eyes again and turned his head away, resting it uncomfortably against the hard porcelain tub.

"What did you do?" Dean whispered as he carefully inspected Sam's bloody hand. He felt his stomach roll when he saw a plastic knife stuck in his little brother's hand. Part of the plastic was broken off by the force Sam had obviously used it to carve into his hand. Dean covered his mouth with a hand and turned away for a moment. Carving into his hand with a plastic knife had to have taken a long, painful time and that time Dean had spent drooling onto his bed. Just the idea made him sick to his guts.

"What did you do?" Dean gulped and looked back at Sam, trying to figure out what to do with the knife. Sam didn't answer, just jerked his head a little, his body shaking. It wasn't really any doubt what had caused this,

"Do you see him?" Dean asked quietly, leaning forward a little to cup the side of Sam's cheek, trying to turn his head towards him, but Sam refused to budge. Dean didn't move his hand though and after a few minutes Sam finally turned his head, only to close his eyes again the moment he did.

"Yes. I see him," he admitted quietly, biting at his bottom lip,

"I still see him," Sam cried,

"I always see him," he continued,

"He wont.. go away. No matter what.." he lifted his wounded hand an inch to show what his 'no matter what' was. Dean just nodded, keeping his hand on Sam's face another moment before focusing back on the nasty injury.

"I'm here okay? I'm real. You need to remember that," Dean said intensely, running his hand from Sam's shoulder, down his arm until he reached below the bleeding hand, just to make sure Sam felt him. That he knew he was real.

"This has to come out," Dean told Sam. Sam didn't say anything so Dean carefully held his hand ready over the broken plastic knife, ready to only touch it once he would pull it out. He let his sight wander a little and came to realize how much blood the wound had been pouring out. Sam was already barely conscious, but was silently watching as Dean grabbed the knife and tried to yank it out, only for it to be stuck.

"SHIT!" Sam cried out.

"I'm sorry, man," Dean gaped, but didn't take his eyes off the knife.

"Fuck!" Sam swore in pain and Dean raised an eyebrow.

"That's right. Get it out, Sammy. Get all the anger and shit out," Dean encouraged as he finally was able to yank the knife out. Sam gasped before slipping into unconsciousness. Dean didn't waste his time before wrapping a towel around Sam's bleeding hand, putting pressure on it.

"Wake up, Sam," Dean said, one hand tightly around the bleeding wound while he tenderly stroke Sam's bare upper arm with his hand. His skin was cold and he didn't react at all. Dean must have been in the same position for at least ten minutes before Sam showed signs of waking.

"There you go, Captain Unconscious," Dean joked, standing up so he was towering over his brother,

"Let's get you out of here okay? I need to fix that hand of yours, Sammy," he grabbed the collar of Sam's grey t-shirt and pulled uselessly. There was no way he would get a Sasquatch anywhere with at least a little help.

"Come on, man. Help me out here. It's physically impossible for me to lift you without help," Dean pleaded.

"M'sorry," Sam sighed tiredly and curled his unhurt arm around Dean's neck before getting his coltish legs under him.

"It's hardly your fault you're a giant, kiddo," Dean assured as they very slowly headed over to the beds.

"It's hardly.. your fault you're... so... short," Sam huffed, not even smiling, but it sure made Dean bark out a low laugh, but he didn't comment it.

Once Dean had gotten Sam safely in bed he headed out for a minute to find their old first aid kit in the car of the week. When he returned Sam was lying on his side, his wounded hand hanging off the bedside and eyes open, but watching nothing in particular.

"Sammy?" Dean spoke quietly and he knelt down on the floor beside the bed and carefully grabbed Sam's hand again,

"He's not real," he said quietly and for a moment he wondered how many times he had told his little brother that now,

"I'm real," he continued ranting comforting words as he worked on the hand,

"Thank god for that because a world without Dean Winchester is no world worth to live in huh?" he joked, but Sam was still watching the same spot.

"Nonetheless. Dean Winchester. Real. Lucifer is not. That's how it is," Dean said and wrapped up the nasty wound, the image of the plastic knife in Sam's hand still too fresh in his mind.

"Then why wont he go away?" Sam asked quietly, eyes never leaving the same spot, but his unhurt hand curled around Dean's.