Touch My Brother And I'll Kill You.


The axe sliced through the ghoul's neck severing its head from its body; the brute force of the man who wielded the weapon sending the still twitching head rolling into the farthest corner of the dingy room. The second ghoul who had been greedily feeding on the prone figure tied to the table, looked up in alarm, the entrance and the decapitation of its partner done so swiftly and unexpectedly that it was only just realizing that the taste of blood in its mouth would be its last.

The ghoul was used to being the one that thrived on seeing the agony and fear on its victims' faces before they finally expired, but that same fear now shone from its own eyes as it caught the chilling expression of hatred on the face of the axe-wielder.

It didn't have much time to contemplate further, as it felt the sharp blade tear through its own neck and the last instant of consciousness abbandoning it, while its soul took the first step on the journey to Purgatory.


The man who had so easily dispatched the two ghouls, rushed to the table, the two kills he had made utterly forgotten; his expression of coldness falling away like a mask to be replaced with fear and concern, because lying on the table, his red blood pooling around him, was the one being in the world, no in the entire universe and beyond that Dean Winchester loved, his younger brother.


Sam's face was pallid, similar to a cadaver but Dean's trembling fingers made him breathe a sigh of relief as they felt the slow pulse on his sibling's neck.

Dean sensed his usually unexpressed emotions trying to overwhelm him as he took in the sight of his brother but he ruthlessly pushed them down.

He could be as cool as a Vulcan when necessary and now was of those times, for if he gave in to his desire to hold Sam close and cry, he would be doing his brother no favours, so he averted his eyes from Sam's pale face and began to concentrate on saving his brother's life.

He quickly assessed the wounds.

Sam still had everything in its proper place, two arms, two legs, a freaky, geeky tousled head but if he didn't stop the blood flow pronto, then Sam's soul would be crossing over to the other side without him and that he couldn't let happen.


He stripped off his shirt and tore it to shreds.

Sam's arms had taken the worst; new open wounds had replaced the old scars caused by ghouls a few years before when two of them had taken on the appearance of their half-brother Adam and his mother; but then he had gotten to Sam sooner. His brother had been in pain but he hadn't passed out, not like now..

Dean worked methodically, pulling the gaping lips of the wounds together and binding them tightly with his makeshift bandages.

He then tended to those that had punctured his brother's chest; his upper body testimony to the older scars received during the years from any variety of creatures.

Dean sighed, pondering, as he efficiently tended to his brother's wounds as best he could, that Sam didn't deserve any of this; to be honest, and Dean was at his most honest when Sam was hurt, he didn't deserve this life either.


He felt a bout of rancour invade him; his father had been a victim just as he and Sam and their mom had, and he couldn't say what he would have done had he been in his Dad's place, but when he looked at Sam he knew that if he had had the choice, he would never have raised his little brother to be the prey for monsters, even although the work they did had saved countless lives.


Did saving Sam's life count more than their saving the many? You bet your ass it did!

He was through with this!

He was through with seeing Sammy near death; maybe he was just getting old but the pain of having to tend to his brother's torn flesh was becoming unbearable.

He was the big brother; it was his job to look out for his ginormous sibling and as soon as he got Sam back on his feet that's just what he would do!

He paused for a second to examine his handiwork; he had stopped the flow of blood but his brother's pale face told him that the usual motel room wouldn't be the place to take his brother, not this time.

Dean pulled Sam up by the arms and heaved him over his shoulder like a bag of bricks; his brother weighed more than him but no weight had ever felt lighter or more welcome as Dean carried him out of the room without so much as a backward glance.



Sam's eyes felt heavier than lead as he tried to pull them open; the bright light above him exploding onto his optic nerves like the brightest sun.

"Dude, close your eyes, " Dean's gritty voice advised. "These freaking nurses should know better than to keep the lights on over a guy's bed."

The voice was Dean's, Sam thought in satisfaction as he gripped the hand that was unashamedly holding his own.

He must have been hurt really badly to be in hospital and to have Dean hanging onto his hand as if he was four again, but Sam wasn't complaining. He gripped the warm hand even tighter, not wanting to lose the comforting contact with his big brother.


Dean of course knew exactly what he was thinking and in turn held on even more. Sam was too exhausted to do anything else but lie there, his hand in his brother's.

The two men remained in silence, there was no need for words.

They were so attuned that each knew what the other was thinking, the elder was giving thanks to a non-defined higher entity that his brother was alive and would make a full recovery, while the younger thanked the same being for the gift of his big brother; his sometimes annoying sibling who mother-henned and bossed him about, but whom Sam loved with a depth of emotion that couldn't be expressed.

Dean was an integral part of him just as he was well aware that he was an integral part of Dean.


"So the ghouls got me good, huh?" he murmured to his silent brother.

"Yeah, You must have tasted real spicy Sammy, the way they were tearing into you; it must be all that healthy stuff you eat!" Dean joked, his hand still holding on tight to his little brother's.

"Sorry I scared you, Dean but they caught me unawares, knocked me out or something; can't remember, " Sam added weakly.

"Hey, save your strength Sammy; you know how I hate hospitals, so the quicker you heal that skinny ass of yours, the better."

"Did you take them out, Dean?" Sam asked knowing full well it was a silly question. Dean's rage against anyone who hurt him was terrifying. He knew he was being a baby but the fact that Dean looked out for him made him feel loved and cherished.

Yeah they were a freaky mixed-up set of brothers but it had been that way all their lives and Sam was fine with it.


He felt his body drifting into sleep. "Are you gonna sit there holding my hand until I wake up again, Dude?" he asked before he slipped away.

"I'll still be holding it when we're old and grey, so get used to it bitch."

Sam lips curled into a smile as he slept.


Dean held on tight to his other half, Sam had gotten through another hit but Dean had had enough; every man had a limit and he had reached his.

When Sam was back on his feet, he would consider their options. He wasn't going to let Sam get hurt ever again, no matter what it took!