http://springflingmod.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
springflingmod.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
spn_springfling2017-04-07 08:00 am
springflingmod.livejournal.com) wrote in spn_springfling2017-04-07 08:00 am
Taking Care of Sammy for jelyba_pants
Title: Taking Care of Sammy
Pairing: Sam/Dean – hints at Sam/Kevin, Sam/Jody
Rating: PG13
Now
“Stay with me Sammy” Dean’s voice soft and steady; trying not to betray the panic he was clearly feeling. “Sammy stay with me.”
Pain, intense and hard, keeping him anchored even though he wants to float away. There is a tugging at his gut, feels like his entire stomach has been ripped open (hey maybe it has). There’s blood, he can smell it, feel it trickling down his sides. He needs something to dim the pain and he moans. Hears his brother’s sharp intake of breath.
“Stay with me Sammy…please.”
****
2012
“I’m a prophet – not a doctor,” Kevin bends over him, teeth caught in his bottom lip, “and I’m not even a very good prophet.”
Sam laughs weakly. His leg is bleeding profusely, the black dog had fucking sharp teeth and it dug in good and proper. He knows that Dean thinks he is well cared for, knows that his brother went off to get more supplies, to lay his hands on the good stuff but – shit – it hurts like a bitch and Kevin’s ineffective prodding isn’t helping.
“It’s ok,” he can smell the younger man’s sweat, sharp in his nostrils, “just put pressure on it.”
“It’s…” Kevin is pallid, unhealthy looking, too much reading and not enough fresh air, “there’s blood everywhere.” Soft brown eyes gaze quickly into his and he tries to smile reassuringly.
“I know Kevin but Dean will be back soon and you can go back to…” he waves his hand feebly, “whatever it was you were doing.”
“I don’t want you to die Sam,” Kevin’s expression gives him away. He hadn’t been blessed with a poker face, “I can’t let you die.”
“I’m not dying Kevin,” Sam has always known, deep down, that the younger man has feelings for him. He’s not exactly comfortable with it but he’s had crushes himself in the past so he understands and he tries, he does. “These wounds always bleed a lot…it isn’t,” he winces at the sudden stab of pain, Kevin’s shaking hands pressing hard on the wound, “it isn’t as serious as it looks honestly.”
“I hate this,” Kevin sounds like the angry teenager he is, “I hate all of this.”
“Yeah…yeah,” Sam tries to sit up a little, puts a steady hand on Kevin’s shaking shoulder, “it’s ok.”
“No – it’s not.”
“It is…when we close the gates all of this will stop. You can go back to school, you can forget all about it.”
Kevin’s face softens; those eyes meet his again and he can see a myriad of expressions there. Talk about an open book. Sam wants to let him down gently. Even if he thought about Kevin like that, he’s far too young. He needs someone nice, not someone who is as damaged as Sam, not someone with all this fucking baggage.
“How will I ever forget?” His voice shakes alarmingly, “how can I forget Dean, Castiel…Crowley…,” he gulps down obvious tears, “you.”
Sam doesn’t have an answer for that and he can’t help but feel relieved when he hears the clicking of the bunker doors and his brother comes storming in, cursing like a trouper, and pushing Kevin aside.
“Let’s look at this leg then…”
When Sam looks again Kevin is gone and he feels oddly bereft…
****
Now
There is a welcoming prick in the meat of his arm and he feels the pain fade away almost instantly. Above him his brother is white faced and there are tears on his cheeks. They have done this dance a thousand times and it never gets old, the worry and concern never goes away. Despite everything they are to each other Dean will always be Sam’s big brother and, in these moments, he will always blame himself for Sam’s condition, Sam’s predicament, Sam’s hurt.
“Got you some excellent shit,” Dean’s hands are sure now and Sam can see the reflection of silver in his hand. No one can stitch him up quite like Dean and he is stupidly grateful, “you just need to stay awake for me…just for a little while.” A big warm hand on his forehead, “can you do that?”
He nods even though he isn’t sure he can. Green eyes meet his for the briefest of moments and he sees the adoration that Dean tries to keep hidden. His brother is a mass of contradictions but that just makes Sam love him more and he can never regret what has happened between them. He was always Deans and he realises that now.
“I’m gonna be stitching you up,” a hand on his stomach, fingers slipping in the blood, “might take a little time…” Dean bends over him and he sees his brother’s attempt at a shit eating grin, “you know the drill.”
Sam nods; he hasn’t gotten the strength for anything else; he is in good hands now, the best and he lets his mind drift away.
****
2014
“You need to take better care of yourself Sam Winchester,” Jody was using her mom voice and he felt like a guilty little boy, “what is that brother of yours going to say when you get him back? Risking your life like this…” her fingertips ghost over his clavicle and his shoulder explodes into intense and almost unbearable pain, “hospital,” Jody shakes her head, “you need a hospital.”
He stared at her through watery eyes; her appearance was stern but her gaze was soft, apprehensive.
“I don’t really do hospitals,” he managed to croak, “we usually look after ourselves.”
“You need to see a professional Sam,” Jody sat back on her haunches, “I can’t fix this and neither can you.”
He wanted to say that Dean could have fixed it; he wanted to tell her his big brother could do anything. A lump lodged in his throat and he swallowed it down, Jody’s face wavering in front of his eyes. He missed his brother so much, wanted him back. His one constant, his big hero and he’d pushed him away, he’d let him down.
“I know,” he let it out then, let the tears fall. He hurt and he was vulnerable. The demons that attacked them had been fierce, unrelenting and Cas…Cas had…Cas had been too hurt to help him. He winced as he remembered what happened and he shook his head again, “I know.”
“Then hospital,” Jody’s touch was feather-light, “I’ll take you. Use my considerable influence to get you looked at sooner rather than later.”
“You gonna take me to Sioux Falls General,” Sam had some really bad memories of that particular place.
“Yeah but there’s no one to eat you now,” she laughed, eyes crinkling, “it’s just a hospital Sam.”
“I want him back Jody,” he was aware of his voice shaking, the agony of his injury, the pure shock of the attack. He couldn’t hold it in anymore and he let the tears come. Quick and painful, hot down his cheeks like acid.
“Shhh,” she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close carefully avoiding his hurt shoulder. He buried himself into her chest and let himself rest there a moment, appreciating the comfort she gave him.
Afterwards she got out her truck and fired it up; Sam sat in the passenger seat and watched her. Jody Mills, warm and capable, someone of whom he was incredibly fond. She caught him looking at her and smiled.
“You know Sam you don’t have to go back to the bunker.” She patted his thigh, “there is plenty of room here...”
He knew then what she was offering him; not just a home but welcome domesticity. She was a handsome woman, attractive, intelligent, someone he could see himself settling with. Sure, there was an age difference but it didn’t faze him in the least. He could imagine settling here, near to where Bobby used to live, somewhere he had fond memories of (if you didn’t count the hospital). He could still recall the house he’d had with Amelia; painting walls, mowing the lawn, taking Riot out along the river…. he’d thought Dean was gone then, he’d let himself believe…
The note had said ‘Sammy let me go’ and perhaps he should; perhaps he should take Jody up on her offer, they could make a go of it he was certain. But he couldn’t…he couldn’t. He recalled how angry Dean had been when he’d gotten back. Sam had let him rot for a year, he’d left him trapped in purgatory while he lived his ideal life. He couldn’t do that to his brother again. He wanted to be the one to rescue his brother, to find him, to get him back and give him hell for leaving. When Dean came back it would be on his watch, Sam wasn’t going to go down that road again.
“I’m sorry,” he fidgeted in his seat, his arm throbbing painfully, the need for painkillers becoming increasingly urgent, “I need to go back to the bunker. I need to be there for Dean.”
“Of course, you do,” Jody nodded, eyes resigned and sad. She glanced across at Sam still holding his shoulder, sweat beading his forehead, nausea beginning to grip him, “now let’s get you fixed up…”
****
Now
He wasn’t even sure what they had been hunting. All he knew is that it had fucking claws like blades and they had ripped through the skin of his belly as if it had been paper. He’d heard his brother shout but he hadn’t been able to stay on his feet, pitching forward holding his guts in, blood spurting everywhere. He’d been all too aware of Dean’s panic but his brother had, as always, feigned calm.
“Let’s get you fixed up,” he’d said and Sam was going to be all right.
He woke up feeling weak; he wasn’t on the table anymore but, instead, he was lying on Dean’s bed, his memory foam mattress firm beneath Sam’s back. He felt light, floaty. Everything seemed over bright and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Dean had certainly got him on some good shit. He giggled to himself and then wondered why he was laughing.
“Hey Hunter S Thompson,” the bed dipped as Dean sat down beside him and put his palm on Sam’s forehead, “you seem happy.”
“Did a good job,” Sam wriggled a little and felt the pull of his stiches, “patched me up…doesn’t hurt at all.”
“It won’t for a while,” Dean’s smile belied his shadowed eyes, “you had me worried for a minute there Sammy…you…shit you almost died on me…again.”
“I’m sorry,” he felt oddly contrite, “I’m sorry Dean.”
His brother took in a deep breath and bent down, brushing cold, dry lips against his own. For a moment, Sam wished he didn’t feel so spaced out, so weird. It had been a while and he missed this, missed the closeness that had sprung up between him and his brother.
“Don’t be sorry. You killed the…the…well whatever it was. We got away and you’re…you’re not dead. I guess that’s win.” He bent down so he could look under the bandage at Sam’s stitches, “yeah, they’re gonna hold. You’ll be up and about in no time.”
“You always take care of me,” Sam grabbed hold of his brother’s hand and pressed it against his mouth. “You always patch me up…always have and always will.”
“You’re sappy when you’re drugged,” Dean smiled again, wider this time, “I kinda like it.”
“How long before I can indulge in physical activity again?”
“A few days…why?” Dean’s smirk told him that his brother understood just what he was asking. “Yeah – well – we can work around it I guess.”
“Good…you know…when I was hurt today it made me think of the few times someone else has had to tend to my wounds,” Sam giggled again and his brother shook his head fondly. “It was never the same. Even if I was sorta fond of that person…it was never the same.”
“That’s cause I’m so awesome,” Dean was staring at him, every emotion he was feeling shining obvious from his eyes.
“No,” Sam lifted his head a little, grabbed Dean’s chin weakly and held on, “It’s because I love you.”
“That better not be the drugs talking,” Dean’s throat worked and Sam could see the glitter of tears. The last thing he wanted was to make his brother miserable and he let go guiltily. Dean grabbed his hand and placed it back on his face, let Sam stroke long fingers over his skin, let Sam comfort HIM for once.
“It isn’t,” he mumbled, eyes heavy now, “it isn’t…I love you Dean and I don’t tell you enough.”
As he tumbled into sleep he heard his brothers laugh; images of former wounds, of different carers careered across his mind but Dean’s image was clear, brighter than any of the others and he closed his eyes content that his brother was by his side and that he would certainly live to fight another day…
End
Pairing: Sam/Dean – hints at Sam/Kevin, Sam/Jody
Rating: PG13
Now
“Stay with me Sammy” Dean’s voice soft and steady; trying not to betray the panic he was clearly feeling. “Sammy stay with me.”
Pain, intense and hard, keeping him anchored even though he wants to float away. There is a tugging at his gut, feels like his entire stomach has been ripped open (hey maybe it has). There’s blood, he can smell it, feel it trickling down his sides. He needs something to dim the pain and he moans. Hears his brother’s sharp intake of breath.
“Stay with me Sammy…please.”
****
2012
“I’m a prophet – not a doctor,” Kevin bends over him, teeth caught in his bottom lip, “and I’m not even a very good prophet.”
Sam laughs weakly. His leg is bleeding profusely, the black dog had fucking sharp teeth and it dug in good and proper. He knows that Dean thinks he is well cared for, knows that his brother went off to get more supplies, to lay his hands on the good stuff but – shit – it hurts like a bitch and Kevin’s ineffective prodding isn’t helping.
“It’s ok,” he can smell the younger man’s sweat, sharp in his nostrils, “just put pressure on it.”
“It’s…” Kevin is pallid, unhealthy looking, too much reading and not enough fresh air, “there’s blood everywhere.” Soft brown eyes gaze quickly into his and he tries to smile reassuringly.
“I know Kevin but Dean will be back soon and you can go back to…” he waves his hand feebly, “whatever it was you were doing.”
“I don’t want you to die Sam,” Kevin’s expression gives him away. He hadn’t been blessed with a poker face, “I can’t let you die.”
“I’m not dying Kevin,” Sam has always known, deep down, that the younger man has feelings for him. He’s not exactly comfortable with it but he’s had crushes himself in the past so he understands and he tries, he does. “These wounds always bleed a lot…it isn’t,” he winces at the sudden stab of pain, Kevin’s shaking hands pressing hard on the wound, “it isn’t as serious as it looks honestly.”
“I hate this,” Kevin sounds like the angry teenager he is, “I hate all of this.”
“Yeah…yeah,” Sam tries to sit up a little, puts a steady hand on Kevin’s shaking shoulder, “it’s ok.”
“No – it’s not.”
“It is…when we close the gates all of this will stop. You can go back to school, you can forget all about it.”
Kevin’s face softens; those eyes meet his again and he can see a myriad of expressions there. Talk about an open book. Sam wants to let him down gently. Even if he thought about Kevin like that, he’s far too young. He needs someone nice, not someone who is as damaged as Sam, not someone with all this fucking baggage.
“How will I ever forget?” His voice shakes alarmingly, “how can I forget Dean, Castiel…Crowley…,” he gulps down obvious tears, “you.”
Sam doesn’t have an answer for that and he can’t help but feel relieved when he hears the clicking of the bunker doors and his brother comes storming in, cursing like a trouper, and pushing Kevin aside.
“Let’s look at this leg then…”
When Sam looks again Kevin is gone and he feels oddly bereft…
****
Now
There is a welcoming prick in the meat of his arm and he feels the pain fade away almost instantly. Above him his brother is white faced and there are tears on his cheeks. They have done this dance a thousand times and it never gets old, the worry and concern never goes away. Despite everything they are to each other Dean will always be Sam’s big brother and, in these moments, he will always blame himself for Sam’s condition, Sam’s predicament, Sam’s hurt.
“Got you some excellent shit,” Dean’s hands are sure now and Sam can see the reflection of silver in his hand. No one can stitch him up quite like Dean and he is stupidly grateful, “you just need to stay awake for me…just for a little while.” A big warm hand on his forehead, “can you do that?”
He nods even though he isn’t sure he can. Green eyes meet his for the briefest of moments and he sees the adoration that Dean tries to keep hidden. His brother is a mass of contradictions but that just makes Sam love him more and he can never regret what has happened between them. He was always Deans and he realises that now.
“I’m gonna be stitching you up,” a hand on his stomach, fingers slipping in the blood, “might take a little time…” Dean bends over him and he sees his brother’s attempt at a shit eating grin, “you know the drill.”
Sam nods; he hasn’t gotten the strength for anything else; he is in good hands now, the best and he lets his mind drift away.
****
2014
“You need to take better care of yourself Sam Winchester,” Jody was using her mom voice and he felt like a guilty little boy, “what is that brother of yours going to say when you get him back? Risking your life like this…” her fingertips ghost over his clavicle and his shoulder explodes into intense and almost unbearable pain, “hospital,” Jody shakes her head, “you need a hospital.”
He stared at her through watery eyes; her appearance was stern but her gaze was soft, apprehensive.
“I don’t really do hospitals,” he managed to croak, “we usually look after ourselves.”
“You need to see a professional Sam,” Jody sat back on her haunches, “I can’t fix this and neither can you.”
He wanted to say that Dean could have fixed it; he wanted to tell her his big brother could do anything. A lump lodged in his throat and he swallowed it down, Jody’s face wavering in front of his eyes. He missed his brother so much, wanted him back. His one constant, his big hero and he’d pushed him away, he’d let him down.
“I know,” he let it out then, let the tears fall. He hurt and he was vulnerable. The demons that attacked them had been fierce, unrelenting and Cas…Cas had…Cas had been too hurt to help him. He winced as he remembered what happened and he shook his head again, “I know.”
“Then hospital,” Jody’s touch was feather-light, “I’ll take you. Use my considerable influence to get you looked at sooner rather than later.”
“You gonna take me to Sioux Falls General,” Sam had some really bad memories of that particular place.
“Yeah but there’s no one to eat you now,” she laughed, eyes crinkling, “it’s just a hospital Sam.”
“I want him back Jody,” he was aware of his voice shaking, the agony of his injury, the pure shock of the attack. He couldn’t hold it in anymore and he let the tears come. Quick and painful, hot down his cheeks like acid.
“Shhh,” she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close carefully avoiding his hurt shoulder. He buried himself into her chest and let himself rest there a moment, appreciating the comfort she gave him.
Afterwards she got out her truck and fired it up; Sam sat in the passenger seat and watched her. Jody Mills, warm and capable, someone of whom he was incredibly fond. She caught him looking at her and smiled.
“You know Sam you don’t have to go back to the bunker.” She patted his thigh, “there is plenty of room here...”
He knew then what she was offering him; not just a home but welcome domesticity. She was a handsome woman, attractive, intelligent, someone he could see himself settling with. Sure, there was an age difference but it didn’t faze him in the least. He could imagine settling here, near to where Bobby used to live, somewhere he had fond memories of (if you didn’t count the hospital). He could still recall the house he’d had with Amelia; painting walls, mowing the lawn, taking Riot out along the river…. he’d thought Dean was gone then, he’d let himself believe…
The note had said ‘Sammy let me go’ and perhaps he should; perhaps he should take Jody up on her offer, they could make a go of it he was certain. But he couldn’t…he couldn’t. He recalled how angry Dean had been when he’d gotten back. Sam had let him rot for a year, he’d left him trapped in purgatory while he lived his ideal life. He couldn’t do that to his brother again. He wanted to be the one to rescue his brother, to find him, to get him back and give him hell for leaving. When Dean came back it would be on his watch, Sam wasn’t going to go down that road again.
“I’m sorry,” he fidgeted in his seat, his arm throbbing painfully, the need for painkillers becoming increasingly urgent, “I need to go back to the bunker. I need to be there for Dean.”
“Of course, you do,” Jody nodded, eyes resigned and sad. She glanced across at Sam still holding his shoulder, sweat beading his forehead, nausea beginning to grip him, “now let’s get you fixed up…”
****
Now
He wasn’t even sure what they had been hunting. All he knew is that it had fucking claws like blades and they had ripped through the skin of his belly as if it had been paper. He’d heard his brother shout but he hadn’t been able to stay on his feet, pitching forward holding his guts in, blood spurting everywhere. He’d been all too aware of Dean’s panic but his brother had, as always, feigned calm.
“Let’s get you fixed up,” he’d said and Sam was going to be all right.
He woke up feeling weak; he wasn’t on the table anymore but, instead, he was lying on Dean’s bed, his memory foam mattress firm beneath Sam’s back. He felt light, floaty. Everything seemed over bright and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Dean had certainly got him on some good shit. He giggled to himself and then wondered why he was laughing.
“Hey Hunter S Thompson,” the bed dipped as Dean sat down beside him and put his palm on Sam’s forehead, “you seem happy.”
“Did a good job,” Sam wriggled a little and felt the pull of his stiches, “patched me up…doesn’t hurt at all.”
“It won’t for a while,” Dean’s smile belied his shadowed eyes, “you had me worried for a minute there Sammy…you…shit you almost died on me…again.”
“I’m sorry,” he felt oddly contrite, “I’m sorry Dean.”
His brother took in a deep breath and bent down, brushing cold, dry lips against his own. For a moment, Sam wished he didn’t feel so spaced out, so weird. It had been a while and he missed this, missed the closeness that had sprung up between him and his brother.
“Don’t be sorry. You killed the…the…well whatever it was. We got away and you’re…you’re not dead. I guess that’s win.” He bent down so he could look under the bandage at Sam’s stitches, “yeah, they’re gonna hold. You’ll be up and about in no time.”
“You always take care of me,” Sam grabbed hold of his brother’s hand and pressed it against his mouth. “You always patch me up…always have and always will.”
“You’re sappy when you’re drugged,” Dean smiled again, wider this time, “I kinda like it.”
“How long before I can indulge in physical activity again?”
“A few days…why?” Dean’s smirk told him that his brother understood just what he was asking. “Yeah – well – we can work around it I guess.”
“Good…you know…when I was hurt today it made me think of the few times someone else has had to tend to my wounds,” Sam giggled again and his brother shook his head fondly. “It was never the same. Even if I was sorta fond of that person…it was never the same.”
“That’s cause I’m so awesome,” Dean was staring at him, every emotion he was feeling shining obvious from his eyes.
“No,” Sam lifted his head a little, grabbed Dean’s chin weakly and held on, “It’s because I love you.”
“That better not be the drugs talking,” Dean’s throat worked and Sam could see the glitter of tears. The last thing he wanted was to make his brother miserable and he let go guiltily. Dean grabbed his hand and placed it back on his face, let Sam stroke long fingers over his skin, let Sam comfort HIM for once.
“It isn’t,” he mumbled, eyes heavy now, “it isn’t…I love you Dean and I don’t tell you enough.”
As he tumbled into sleep he heard his brothers laugh; images of former wounds, of different carers careered across his mind but Dean’s image was clear, brighter than any of the others and he closed his eyes content that his brother was by his side and that he would certainly live to fight another day…
End