Title: My Brother's Keeper

Author: Snarkymuch

Rating: PG

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Pairing(s)/Character(s): Sam, Dean

Warnings: umm ... its sad.

Spoilers: None

Summary: Written for kazluvsbooks 's prompt: I would love to see Sam injured and becoming slightly mentally disabled (or slow) so that Dean has to start doing stuff for him. The thought of massive Sam having to have Dean help him with fine motor skill stuff like tying shoes etc.
But Sam is still really good at sensing things (and becomes even more so) so is still helpful on hunts etc.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended.


My Brother's Keeper

"No, Sammy," Dean said as he helped guide Sam's hands back down. "Let me, okay?"

Sam opened his mouth to speak, maybe argue, but Dean stopped him with a shake of the head. Sam licked at his lips and nodded. Nothing was as easy as it used to be.

Dean smiled sadly, knowing how much it hurt his brother to have to do these simple tasks for him now. Kneeling down, Dean untied Sam's shoes, one after the other, and set them to the side.

"There, that's better, right?" Dean patted Sam's leg as he got up.

Sam nodded mutely. He didn't talk much anymore, not since the accident. He doesn't like the sound of his own slurred speech.

It had been a normal hunt, Something so simple they should have been able to do it in their sleep. Maybe that's what went wrong in the end. They took it all for granted. Never did they imagine a simple salt and burn would lead to weeks recovery in a hospital and months of physical therapy. A tiny bleed in his brain changed everything in his life.

"Okay, let's get you up," Dean slipped an arm around Sam and helped him to his feet.

Sam was heavy against him but Dean was used to the weight now. This was part of their routine. He guided Sam slowly over to the table and helped him sit.

No one really knew just how much damage Sam sustained when he seized, when he stopped breathing and they called a code. No one really knew but Sam and he wasn't talking. If he was a little slower than before, Dean didn't see it, or maybe he just didn't want to see it.

"Do you want soup or oatmeal?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged.

Dean's frowned. He wished there was more options for him, but Dean wasn't a great cook and Sam wasn't a great chewer. This made the menu fairly short.

"Well , since it's still early. I'm calling oatmeal." Dean smiled and turned to make Sam's food.

The silence was one thing that Dean couldn't get used to. He missed the banter he and his brother once shared. It was just another thing that that tiny moment, the second it took for Sam's head to hit the headstone, had stolen from him. Silence was his new friend.

The microwave beeped and Dean grabbed the bowl. He sniffed it. "I think the package said apple cinnamon, but it doesn't smell like it."

Sam raised a brow at him.

"Don't look at me like that." Dean took a seat opposite of Sam and stirred the oatmeal, blowing on it to cool it off.

Sam watched, eyes tracking Dean's every movement.

Carefully, Dean scooped up a bite of food and brought it to Sam's lips. Sam looked down at the spoon with a distasteful expression.

"Come on, Sam, open up," Dean pleaded. It wasn't that long ago that Sam had stopped eating altogether for a week. The doctors couldn't find a physical cause and concluded it was probably emotional. Sam was depressed. Dean couldn't blame him for that. Who wouldn't be?

It had taken a feeding tube to get Sam back on his feet then and Dean didn't want a repeat performance.

Dean pressed the edge of the spoon to Sam's lips. "Please, Sammy. Don't do this again. Just eat something."

Sam sighed and then opened his mouth just enough to let the spoon pass.

They settled into a slow rhythm. Dean would gather a small spoon of oatmeal and bring it to Sam's lips. Sam would open chew it slowly, eventually swallowing it down. Every now and again Dean would wipe the edges of Sam's mouth with a napkin. They kept it up until the bowl was empty. It wasn't a lot of food but Dean was thankful to have gotten something into him.

"Garth called," Dean said as he washed the dishes. "Said he was thinking of coming for a visit, what do you think of that? Wanna see Garth?" Dean glanced over his shoulder at Sam.

Sam shrugged.

"Okay, well I won't tell him you said that." Dean smirked.

Nothing came easy for them anymore. Their life was different now. The monsters they faced were of a different kind, feeding times and depression, bathroom breaks and nightmares. Simple things that they now had to conquer each day together. Nothing was the same and it was never going to be again. This was their new normal and in a way, Dean was okay with that.