starryfif2: (Tomas Kalnoky's Hot Smile)
[personal profile] starryfif2
Title: Doubting You Never Worked For Me Me
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing
Word Count: 1, 476
Warnings: Some swearing, and vague spoilers for season 6.

This is written for [livejournal.com profile] hoodie_time's Dean Focused Hurt/Comfort Meme (#4) and [livejournal.com profile] de_nugis's prompt asking for: Dean's tied up in some monster's lair. He's hurt and his fever is rising. But of course Sam will come for him. Because that's what they do, that's what he'd do for Sam, they've got each other's backs. Except Dean's confused with fever, and he remembers Sam in the alley, letting him get vamped. He's not sure, at that deep-down unconscious level, that he's got Sam back, that he can rely on Sam.

Of course Sam comes through, and there is Sam being awesome and taking care of Dean and Dean having that relying on each other sense slot back into place right at the foundations.




Dean's cheek rubbed against the rough stone wall. The smooth stones press into his check, and his neck, through the opening in his jacket. Dean's both cold and hot; the fever makes him sweat, while the cold, damp air of the crypt makes him shiver.

Dean whimpers and folds in on himself as much as possible. The rope tying his hands together, and the matching length around his feet, keeps him immobile on the ground. Dean is trapped. He can't wriggle his way out of the rope and escape. It's humiliating.

Dean Winchester, seasoned hunter, is trapped by rope. Dean's laugh is self-deprecating, and his whole body shakes with the force of his laughter. He moans as his leg throbs alarmingly. And woah, hey, that's not good. Guess he's not only bound by ropes, but his leg is messed up too.

“Awesome.” Dean whispers. Between one breath and the next one, Dean passes out.

((___)))

“Sammy,” Dean says. His head lolls against cool brick. He pants and his back arches against the wall. The rope pulls and bites into his skin, holding strong against Dean's tugs. Dean collapses, graceless, back onto the floor.

Dean shakes his head hard, trying to clear his muddled mind. It's hard to think through the fierce pounding in his temples. His skin feels tight and itchy from fever. His leg burns and throbs like it's being poked repeatedly with fire pokers.

Dean needs to escape, he knows that. It's just...Dean doesn't know if he can. He still can't free himself from the ropes....Dean wriggles, frantic, and accomplishes nothing except winding himself still further, and digging the rope more firmly into his skin. Fuck.

“Sammy! Help!” Dean calls. There's no response, not that Dean expected one. Sam isn't around. He's probably still in the cemetery, searching for the ghost's remains. Dean's resouled brother isn't anywhere near as efficient as Robo Sam, and hunts take longer than they did with his counterpart. Dean doesn't normally mind, but seeing as he's trapped in a crypt, injured and feverish, Dean wishes Sam would hurry the hell up, burn the bones, and find Dean.

Y'know, before he bleeds to death. Or freezes. Or something. Dean just wants some help.

((___))

Dean wakes again, lying with his cheek pressed against the crypt's floor. He's dazed and confused. His mind refuses to connect the dots and tell him where he is and why he's tied up. Dean does know he's hot, really hot, and his head feels like someone's beating it like a drum. Dean's not quite so far gone that he doesn't realize he needs to be rescued.

He's just waiting. Sammy will come. Sam always does. It's just what they do, have done for as long as Dean can remember. The Winchester brother's look out for each other, and when the need arises, they save each other's asses. Dean has Sam's back as much as Sam has his.

Except, a nasty voice whispers, Sam hasn't been all that reliable lately, has he? First it's demon blood and that bitch Ruby. Now Sammy has no soul and he doesn't care about you.

Dean roughly shook his head. His head gave an alarming throb, and Dean pressed his cheek harder against the stone wall, as if the pressure would take some of the pain away from his head. He wished his brain would shut up, because it wasn't true. Sam was always there for him! Always!

Yeah, right, Dean's mind whispers sarcastically. Sam was really there for you in that alley, when the Vampire forced you to drink his blood and you were turned. Sam just stood there and smiled. He smiled while you were violated by some undead freak. Some brother you have.

Dean tasted salt on his lips, and it took his sluggish mind a couple of moments to realize Dean was crying. His heart ached, and his stomach felt hollowed out. Oh, God, Sammy....

Dean sobbed uncontrollably, and Dean knew that was a pathetic thing to do, to give in to his tears when he should be strong and trying to find a way to escape, but fuck it, Dean didn't care. He was alone and hurt, his head ached like someone was trying to split it open, and his leg was cut up. Sammy wasn't coming either, and, God, he was so alone. Sammy abandoned him. How could he?

Hands gripped his chin and lifted his face. Warm eyes met Dean's, and shock ran through Dean's body. “Don't cry, Dean, everything's going to be all right.” Sam said firmly. Sam's thumbs brushed the tears away gently, and for one moment Dean felt Sam's warm body against his as his brother embraced him.

“Unless, of course, you're crying because you can't get out of these ropes. I can't believe you're stuck. I'm teasing you about this so much tomororw.” Sam said, amused.

Dean winced as Sam pulled him away from the wall rougher than his aching head could handle; Dean felt the cool press of a blade against his skin, and then his arms were free. Dean massaged his aching wrists and stood after Sam cut his legs free. His left leg promptly gave out. He would have fallen to his knees if Sam hadn't caught him.

“Hey, you're going to be fine, Dean. I'm going to get you back to the motel and I'm going to give you something for that fever. And than I'm going to put some antibiotic on your wrists.” Sam soothed. He frowned when Dean shook his head carefully. “Are you hurt somewhere else?”

Dean spoke before Sam started patting him down with those freakishly huge hands of his. It took him a couple of tries to speak because his tongue was thick with pain and fever. “'M leg. Hurts, Sammy.”

Sam was on his knees so fast Dean's head whirred. His fingers were gentle as they rolled up Dean's left pant leg. Dean hissed as careful fingers massaged the skin below the injury. “It's not too bad, Dean,” Sam said soothingly; “I can have that stitched up in no time.”

Dean tried to shrug off his brother's hand as he stumbled from the crypt, but Sam was clingy when worried. Not to mention strong as hell, while Dean was weak and feverish. It wasn't fair. Not to mention embarrassing.

Sam wouldn't give up, so with a sigh, Dean let his brother lead him to the Impala.

((___))

Dean offered his brother a tentative smile as Sam spread out next to him on the motel bed. His body felt foggy from the medicine his brother gave him for his fever; his leg still ached, but it was a dull, manageable pain. He was feeling medicated enough to let his brother pull him into his arms. He'd deny the snuggling happened tomorrow; but for now, he'd indulge his brother. And, if he was honest, which he was medicated enough to be, he wanted the comfort his brother's arms gave him.

“I thought you weren't going to come for me.” Dean whispered. His head was comfortable where it was pillowed on Sam's chest. Sam's fingers froze where they'd been running soothingly through his hair. Dean wished he'd kept his mouth shut so Sam would keep doing it.

“Why would I leave you, Dean?” Sam asked, hurt.

Dean shrugged. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss to explain. Finally he settled on honesty. “I couldn't stop thinking about all the times in recent years where you let me down. And I know that's shitty of me, to doubt you when I haven't been all that great or reliable either. We've both been pretty shitty brothers, these past couple of years. And I guess, just with how things have been these past few months, I made myself believe you didn't care.”

Sam's arms tightened around Dean's shoulders. Dean felt Sam's lips press against his neck, soft and soothing. Dean pressed back against his brother's warm body, and he felt at peace for the first time in a very long time.

“I don't think that now.” Dean said, desperate to explain. “I know now that I can trust you, that I can rely on you. I'll always come for you, Sammy. Just like you'll always come for me.”

Sam laughed, shakily, into Dean's neck. “You know I will. I'm never leaving you again, Dean. You're all I need. It's just us against the world. The Winchester brothers.” Sam paused, and the hand not running through Dean's hair clutched at Dean like a vice. “And Cas. He's with us too.”

Dean's grin was blinding. “Damn straight. The Winchester's and Castiel saving the world.” Dean settled back against his brother, at peace. Sam had come for him, and Dean's world was back in the right orbit. Everything was as it should be.
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