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tirstyspngirl · 1 year

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Training or Soccer, Sam Picks Soccer

@spnfluffbingo square filled: Hurt Playing a Sport

Warnings: none

Pairing: Dean & Sam (Not wincest)

Word Count: 959

Dean sat in the parking lot of the middle school, the sun starting to set leaving the lot bathed in a soft glow. His hands tapped to the rhythm of the Led Zeppelin song playing in the background. He couldn’t help but think to himself how much happier Sam seemed since joining the soccer team. It had been a hard fought battle, one that almost reached explosive levels between Sam and their father. If Dean hadn’t stepped in it might have even progressed to blows. Luckily, Dean was able to reason with his dad that soccer would keep Sam’s fitness up and work the strategy part of Sam’s brain. Dean was pretty sure that was the only reason that John had caved; it would help with hunts.

With that said, he left strict instructions with Dean that Sam was to spend his Saturday afternoons (because Sam had practice and some games on Saturday mornings) were to be spent practicing with the crossbow. Unfortunately one the more recent hunts required the use of one and Sam fumbled it causing his dad to be extremely upset and harp on practicing those skills specifically. John expected nothing less than perfection. Dean understood since hunting was not something to be lax with, but he was frequently way too harsh on Sam in his opinion.

Luckily for Sam (and Dean realistically), John had taken a string of hunts with Caleb and left the boys for several weeks. John was due to return in a week, but the boys knew that could be extended yet again in an instant. John had left enough money for Dean to find a job that didn’t care about past experience (or lack of proof of) so long as he got the work done.

Dean was shaken out of his thoughts as he saw a shaggy-headed lanky teenager emerge from the building. The first thing that Dean noticed was Sam walking funny. The second thing he noticed was that Sam was trying to cover up the awkward gait. Dean sighed, he had a good idea of how the night would progress and just how much angst he was going to get from the stubborn kid.

“Hey kiddo, how was practice”

“It was fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Yeah”

“Alright, let’s go scrounge up some grub and head to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow. After your practice we gotta go work on some more bowhunting.”

Sam sighed “More? Haven’t I improved a ton over the last few weeks? I can handle my own, Dean.”

“I know you can Sammy. But dad left strict instructions. Besides, nothing wrong with extra practice. We can always get better.”

Sam grumbled something under his breath that sounded quite derogatory towards their father to Dean. “What was that?” he asked

“Nothing. Let’s just go home. I want to get as much sleep as possible tonight.”

“Sure thing, Sammy.”

Neither boy spoke for the remainder of the drive. Sam stared out the open window, enjoying the breeze that passed across his face and through his hair. Dean sang softly and tapped to the beat on the steering wheel. Both boys seemed quite content with the world in those few moments.

When the sleek black car pulled up in front of the motel door, Sam grimaced. It was easy to pretend his ankle wasn’t on fire when he wasn’t putting any weight on it. Now he was gonna have to walk into the motel room with his brother, and he wasn’t sure how he was gonna pull off the non-injury. Sam only lasted a few steps, before making a soft whine. His ankle felt way more sore walking on it now than it did leaving the school. But Sam was determined. He kept going, flopping down into the first chair he could once inside the room.

“Alright princess, you can give up the act. I know you’re hurting.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on Sammy, I’m not an idiot.”

Sam sighed again and rubbed his hand down his face. He thought he’d at least be able to pull it off until morning. “Alright fine, I twisted my ankle pretty good while doing some drills at the end of practice.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. Let me see.”

Dean knelt down in front of his brother and carefully untied his shoe and pulled off the sock underneath. Sam was always struck with just how gentle his brother could be. His brother was such a dichotomy, gentle and caring older brother opposite of a lethal killer when hunting the things that go bump in the night.

“It looks pretty swollen. I’ll get it wrapped up nice and tight and we’ll get you horizontal on the bed over there. Get some pillows under it and some ibuprofen into you.”

“I don’t need any pain meds, Dean. It’s really not that bad, especially when I’m resting it.”

“It’ll help with the swelling too, Sam. Between the ibuprofen, elevation, ice and wrapping it, you’ll be like new in no time.”

“Like before dad gets home in no time?” Sam asked, his lip caught in between his teeth in nervousness.

“Probably.”

Sam continued to fret thinking about his father’s reaction to an injury from an activity he didn’t want him doing in the first place.

“Don’t worry about him Sam, I’ll take care of it if he’s back before you heal up.”

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam said. Dean watched as he visibly relaxed knowing that his big brother was looking out for him.

Dean gave Sam a noogie on the head. It was the easiest way for him to show his love for his little brother without inducing a chick flick moment. Because you know the rules, no chick flick moments allowed.

#spnfluffbingo2022 #hurt/comfort #hurtsamwinchester #fluff #spn

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tirstyspngirl · 2 years

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Well That was Awkward

@spnfluffbingo square filled: Embarrassing First Meeting

@spnquotebingo square filled: "Thanks for the lesson... but I don't need you to tell me who I am."

Warnings: none

Pairing: Castiel/Sam (can also be read as Gen)

Word Count: 1589

Castiel always loved books. He read non-stop as a child, frequently getting in trouble for reading in class instead of listening to the teacher’s lecturing. So it was no surprise to any of his family members when Castiel got his degree in English Literature with a minor in creative writing. Castiel worked as an English professor for several years as he wrote his first books under the pen name Jack Lafitte.He couldn’t believe the first time one of his books was published. Castiel had always had a low self esteem and it seemed unlikely to him that he would ever create a novel that people would actually pay money to read. Throughout the years, he became quite the accomplished author, with several series published, many of the books ending up on the best-seller’s list. Whenever Castiel was feeling low on self-worth, he would take a trip to a bookstore and look at the displays that held his books. It quelled his anxiety and helped to boost his confidence in himself.

That was where he found himself one cloudy afternoon. The week had been extremely stressful and he was feeling quite down about himself. As he entered the cozy shop, he took in a deep breath. The smell of books always helped to relax him. As he meandered to the fiction section toward the L’s he found that an extremely tall man with shoulder length chestnut hair was stocking his books. Castiel had come to the bookstore a few times and had seen the man every time he came in. He was about to turn around and leave the bookstore before the man could spot him, but he was too late.

“Good afternoon! Can I help you find something?”

“Oh no, thank you.. I-I’m just browsing”

“No worries, I’ll be out of the way shortly.” The large man turned back to stocking the books before pausing and turning back to Castiel. “Could I offer you some recommendations?”

“Um, sure I guess.” Castiel said hesitantly. All he wanted to do was look at his books on the shelf, take a deep breath and go home to write the next chapter of his latest novel. But the handsome man wanted to talk to him and Cas couldn’t say no. He’d been lusting over the man from a distance ever since he moved to the town a few months prior.

“Awesome! Have you ever heard of an author named Jack Lafitte?”

Castiel couldn’t help but release a small huff of laughter. The man was trying to suggest his own books to him.

“I know,” the giant chuckled, “ Who hasn’t? Well, have you ever read any of his books, or just heard of him?”

“I’ve read them all actually,” Castiel admitted.

“He’s amazing right?”

“Oh. Yeah. H-he’s pretty good.”

“Pretty good? The man is a genius. Everything of his I’ve ever consumed I’ve loved. And it’s not just me, he has a huge following. There are even people that love his work so much they write fanfiction about his stories.”

“They do?”

“Oh yeah! It’s too bad the man seems like a pretentious asshole.”

“I’m sorry?” Castiel asks, shocked at the insulting words. Well there went his attraction for the man. That was unfortunate.

“I mean I’ve never met the man, but that’s part of the problem. He doesn’t ever do any events. No Q&A panels, not signings, nothing. The only authors that don’t do any of that are all high and mighty. I can’t help but assume that he’s the same way.”

Finally, Catiel cannot bear to hear how awful of a person he is. “Thanks for the lesson… but I don’t need you to tell me who I am.”

The man’s gorgeously tan face blanches as he processes what Castiel said.

“Y-you’re Jack Lafitte?”

“I am. And I don't want to hang out here and listen to you call me an asshole.”

“I am so sorry, that was extremely rude of me. I shouldn’t have said any of that. You’re my favorite author and I’ve always wanted to meet you, but you never do any events, so I said bitter words to make myself feel better. That’s not cool.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I really am sorry. Let me make it up to you!” Upon seeing Castiel's hesitance, he scrambles “Please! This is my last task and then I can close up the shop. There’s an amazing coffee shop just down the street. And they have booze if you need something a little stronger. My treat.”

Castiel sighs, but decides to take the man up on his offer. He genuinely seems apologetic and at the very least he’ll get some free caffeine in him so he can actually focus on writing his chapter later. “Ok, fine. But can I at least know your name? I’m not too keen on leaving with a stranger whose name I don’t even know.”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. It’s Sam, Sam Winchester.”

“Sam.” Cas repeats.

“Yeah. Alright, let me grab my keys and coat. I’ll lock up and we can walk to the shop. It’s only a few blocks from here.”

“Okay” Castiel says. He wanders towards the front door of the shop while Sam grabs his required items. When he makes it to the front, he holds the door for Castiel before locking up behind them. Sam leads the way, heading north.

I really am sorry.” Sam says again. “I feel like a truly terrible person. Especially since I really do love your books. Then to turn around and say such horrible things.”

Castiel doesn’t know how to respond and simply makes a noncommittal sound. Sam grimaces, and keeps walking, mentally berating himself. When they arrive at the shop a few minutes later, Sam once again holds the door open for Castiel. He greets the friendly red-headed barista behind the counter before turning to Castiel.

“What would you like? Just about everything here is amazing.”

“Just about?” Castiel asks wryly.

Sam blushes a little and Castiel enjoys the flush it brings to the man’s face. Sam rubs a hand behind his neck.

“I’m not a fan of the chocolate they use for the mochas, it’s a little too dark and bitter for my tastes. I like my coffee to be sweet and creamy.” He admits.

Castiel smiles a little and looks up at the menu. He can’t help but get excited when he sees a honey-vanilla latte. Honey is another one of Castiel’s obsessions. He even started keeping bees shortly after moving so he could have his own fresh, unfiltered honey.

“I’d like to try the honey-vanilla latte.” He says to the barista.

“You got it!” She says, voice chipper. “And for you Sam?”

“English Toffee breve, please.”

“Sure thing guys. Go find a cozy corner and I’ll bring them out to you once they’re ready.”

“Thanks Charlie.” Sam says. He stuffs a few bills into the tip jar before turning back to Castiel. “Where would you like to sit?” He asks.

“Anywhere is fine.”

Sam nods and heads towards his favorite table in the joint. It sits in the corner so he can see the entire room, but it’s also next to the front windows allowing him to people-watch from the comfort of the quaint cafe. Sam sits and gestures for Castiel to join him. Once Castiel is seated, Sam starts his apologies once again.

“Again, I’m so sorry for what I said back at the bookshop. It was rude. Can we start over? You seem like a really cool person and I’d love to get to know you. The real you, not the asshole I perceived you as.”

Castiel was beginning to like the man. He didn’t want to hear any more apologies from him, it was making it awkward, but he was also interested in getting to know him. So they sat in the coffee shop for several more hours getting to know one another. Topics ranged from other novels and authors they enjoyed, places they'd traveled to and lived in, whether or not Star Wars was better than Star Trek, amongst various other random topics.

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen the Harry Potter movies!” Sam exclaimed. “They definitely aren’t better than the books, obviously, but they still must be seen. We’ll have to remedy that.”

“Well it will have to be another day, unfortunately.” Cas replied. “I must get going. I have three chapters that need be written this week or my editor will have a stroke.”

“Oh! Of course, I’m so sorry for keeping you.”

“It’s no trouble, Sam. I’ve been enjoying our conversation.”

“I’m glad, especially since I came across like an asshole at first.”

Castiel chuckled, but did not disagree. He pulled out a pad of sticky notes from his bag, something he never traveled without (what if an idea struck him while he was out and about?!). He wrote his number on it as well as his name. His real name.

“Castiel?” Sam asked with confusion.

“That’s my name. Jack Lafitte is simply a pen name.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you Cas. Can I call you Cas?”

“If you’d like, sure. Just make sure you call me.” Cas winked at Sam before he turned and walked out the door. A soft smile gracing his face. Cas was happy he’d gone with the man to get coffee. He had made a new friend who could possibly even turn into more than a friend. The smile stayed on Castiel’s face his entire walk home.

#spnfluffbingo2021 #spnquotebingo #spn #spnfanfic #fluff #angst #embarrassingfirstmeeting

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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Hangin’ in There

Febuwhump Day 12: “Who are you?”

Fandom: Supernatural

TW: none

Word count: 1175

Tags: h/c, hurt sam winchester, deanw winchester to the rescue, whump, kidnapping, BAMF dean winchester

As Sam regained consciousness, it came in stages. First was splitting headaches that reigned in his head. Then it was the pain radiating from his wrists down to his shoulders and his arms were above his head. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt heavy as if weighed down with lead. When he finally succeeded in peeling open his eyelids, everything seemed blurry and hazy. He tried to blink a few times to clear his vision, but it only made the pain in his head spike. His resulting flinch caused him to sway slightly, and it was then that he realized his toes were barely touching the ground.

The fog in his brain began to clear slightly as panic flooded his system. He squinted his eyes upwards towards his wrists and saw heavy shackles clamped on tight. He began to struggle, hoping to wiggle out of the shackles. The shackles were too tight however and Sam had to give up when his wrists chafed and his head felt like it was about to split open.

Sam willed the remaining fog to lift so he could think of solutions to his critical problem. He began to backtrack, hoping to remember what got him into this mess. Him and Dean had found an interesting article online about missing persons in Sergeant Bluffs, Iowa and decided it was suspicious enough to warrant a visit. They had checked into a motel on the outskirts of town, donned their monkey suits and headed to the police station to get the case info.

As usual, the police weren’t very helpful so they had gone to question witnesses. Sam remembered that hadn’t been particularly helpful either, leaving the boys with too little info and way too many monster possibilities. The brothers had stayed for several days only to come up empty handed. There didn’t seem to be any patterns and none of the supernatural creatures seemed to fit exactly right. Just when they were about to head out, labeling the case as a human serial killer and therefore not their jurisdiction, Sam found a new lead. He recalled visiting a middle aged woman at a house on the other side of town. He remembered interviewing her and walking out to the Impala so he could return to the motel and confer with Dean and then… nothing. That was the last thing Sam remembered.

He didn’t even recall getting in, so he must not have even gotten back to the motel. Dean was gonna kill him. He’d left his baby 15 miles from the motel. Granted, it wasn’t intentional, but Dean rarely cared about logical response when it came to his baby.

A creaking sound broke Sam out of his train of thought. He decided to act as if he was still unconscious in the hope he could observe the newcomer unnoticed. Unfortunately, the threat was aware of his state.

“I know you’re awake”

Sam gave up the pretense and raised his lowered head. Sam expected some unidentified beast to be in front of him, but instead found what appeared to be a human man. “Who are you?”

The man huffed a laugh. “They all ask that eventually.” He sighed and sauntered up to Sam. He reached out and stroked Sam’s hair. Sam tried pulling away, but the chains gave little room for movement. “ I’m but a humble man with… darker desires that must be fed.”

“You’re human?”

“Of course I’m human.” The man looked at Sam with a confused expression. “Don’t tell me you believe the fairy tales, boy. You look like a smart young man. You can’t truly think monsters exist.”

“Of course monsters exist,” Sam said. “I’m looking at one now.”

“Oh, come now. I’m not a monster. I just have different needs than most.”

“Needs that cause you to take innocent lives?”

“No one is innocent Sam. Tell me, do you believe yourself to be an innocent man?”

Sam couldn’t respond to that. He knew he wasn’t innocent. Sure, he tried his best to do as much good as possible, but he certainly didn’t always do it in the most legal ways, or the most moral. The man took his silence for the answer it was.

“That’s what I thought. Alrighty then, enough talk. Time for me to get to work.”

The man turned away and walked to the corner of the room. Sam lost him in the darkness of the corner, but not for long. The man spun around with dramatic flair and brandished a long wicked looking knife. Sam began to squirm as soon as he spotted the knife, desperately trying to escape the cuffs above his head.

“Oh, why bother,” The man said as he stalked towards Sam. “There is no way that you could get out of those cuffs. And the more you struggle the more this knife’ll hurt. So if I were you I'd stop moving and stay as still as possible.”

With a quick flick of his wrist, the man slid the knife through Sam’s shirt and opened it wide, his flannel already missing. The man pointed the tip of the knife to Sam’s collarbone and gently pulled across the bone to his shoulder. The man used little pressure, just enough to break the skin and create a line dotted with blood. Sam tensed, but made no sound.

“Oh come now, don’t be all stoic on me. I want to hear you. I like the sounds.”

“Fuck off.” Sam spat out.

The man moved the knife to the other side and created a mirroring wound on the other side, digging the knife deeper this time. This time, blood dripped down Sam’s bare torso in a steady stream. Sam remained silent. The knife moved to point over Sam’s sternum. Just as the man pushed down, ready to drag the knife downwards, a crash came from somewhere outside the room. The man sighed “We were just getting started.”

The man turned away from Sam and began walking toward the door to investigate.

“Stay there Sam, I’ll be right back.”

The door crashed open, and in stormed a furious Dean Winchester. His gaze flicked to Sam and a dark look crossed his face. Dean’s gaze returned to man as he brought his gun up and shot the man in the head. The man dropped to the ground, the knife clattering beside him. Dean kicked the knife aside in the slim chance the man was still alive and moved to Sam.

“Why do you have to attract all the kidnappers Sam?” Dean asked as he reached up to pick the cuffs.

“I’ve been asking myself that my entire life,” Sam sighed. “I can’t believe that he was just a human.”

“Well Sammy, I’ll say it again, demons I get. People are crazy.”

The cuffs popped open and Sam slumped into Dean before righting himself. He rubbed at his chafed wrists. Dean pressed his Sam’s fallen shirt into Sam’s hand.

“Here, put pressure on that. We’ll stitch it up when we get back to the hotel.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday12 #febuwhump2021 #spn #spnfanfic

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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Running to the Ravine

Febuwhump Day 11: Hallucinations

Fandom: Supernatural

TW: none

Word count: 885

Tags, h/c, hurt Sam winchester, dean winchester takes care of sam winchester, hallucifer, whump

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Sam. He’s riding shotgun and you’ve been all over the place because of it. You need to be able to focus if we’re gonna kill this thing.”

“I don’t want you going after it alone and tonight is the last night of its cycle. We don’t have time to wait for another hunter. Besides, being on a hunt actually helps. It’s a distraction from Lucifer.”

Dean searched Sam’s face, looking for any sort of indication that Sam was lying or looked unstable in any way. Of course at that exact moment Sam actually looked okay. Go figure. So Dean, against his best judgement, let Sam get in the car and they drove to the parking lot closest to where they believed the creature’s nest to be.

Sam fought to keep his calm composure the entire 20 minute drive there. Lucifer was belting Bon Jovi as loud as he could in the backseat as he flicked Sam’s ear. It was a nuisance at worst, but when Sam had to deal with it 24 hours a day, it got harder to manage. Especially now that it was impacting his sleep and ability to eat. Sam simply kept his hand clenched, pushing his fingernails into his scar. If Dean noticed, he didn’t say anything.

They arrived at the forest entry and loaded the gear onto their backs. Dean took point and Sam trailed behind him with Lucifer bringing up the rear calling “Here doggy doggy doggy!!” at the top of his lungs. Sam couldn’t help but flinch at how loud Lucifer was being, even though he knew that he was the only one who could hear him.

When they came upon that cave they suspected to be the creature's nest, a dark creature came stalking out. Both boys raised their guns, but before they could shoot the creature charged towards Dean and it all turned to pure chaos. The creature was snarling and growling, but would disappear into the shadows making it harder to track it visually. All the while Lucifer screamed and laughed and sang. It completely threw off Sam’s ability to keep track of any sounds going on around him. At one point he couldn’t see Dean anymore and he became almost frantic searching for him.

Lucifer had really messed up all of his hunter instincts, that’s for damn sure. Sam was running, dodging trees and looking for any signs of Dean or the evil beast when Lucifer shouted “Dean, no!” behind Sam. Sam whipped his head around, but his feet kept going and the next thing he knew he was tumbling down into a ravine. Sam gasped and grunted in pain as he rolled all the way down to the bottom. The only good thing that seemed to have come from his little topple was that the pain seemed to have actually pushed Lucifer away for the time being.

Sam tried to move, but found he was wedged between the ravine side and a boulder. He was stuck between a literal rock and a hard place. How cliche.

So Sam simply had to lay there, trying to be as still as possible to limit pain. He listened to the scuffle of fighting and Dean’s curses and insults and prayed to anyone that could hear him that Dean would be okay and that he wouldn’t get injured. If that happened they were both fucked.

After what felt like ages, Sam heard a series of quick gunshots and a whoop of success from his brother, and Sam exhaled in relief that his brother was okay.

“Sam?! Sam?!”

“I’m here Dean. I fell into the ravine.” Sam called back. His voice was hoarse, but still carried enough volume that he could be heard.

“Jesus, Sammy. At least the ravine is pretty small. It shouldn’t be too hard gettin’ you out of there. Are you hurt?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how bad though. I think I have a few broken ribs and there’s blood on the side of my head, but I don’t feel too awful considering.”

Dean made his way carefully down the steep slope and over to Sam. He knelt down and ran his hands over Sam’s body, searching for any injuries that could be dangerous with movement. Dean sighed in relief when he didn’t feel any terrible breaks. A couple broken ribs appeared to be the only bones broken. There were a few lacerations and abrasions, but not any that Dean was concerned about stitching in the field.

“Well Sammy, I think you’re clear to move. Let’s get you outta here and I’ll patch you back up at the motel.”

“Thanks Dean. You uh, you were right. I shouldn’t have been on this hunt. Lucifer was distracting me so much I could’ve gotten injured much worse or even killed. Or worse, I could have gotten you killed.” Sam shuddered at the thought of losing Dean to the creature.

“Yeah. I think you're gonna be benched until we can figure out how to get the devil out of your brain. But don’t worry, Sam. Right now, you’re ok, I’m ok, and we’re gonna figure this out, alright?”

“Alright. Thanks Dean.”

“Don’t mention it, that’s what big brothers are for, bitch.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday11 #febuwhump2021 #spn #spnfanfic

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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We don’t Change Plans for Injuries

Febuwhump Day 10: “I’m Sorry, I didn’t know”

Fandom: Supernatural

TW: None

Word Count: 515

Tags: h/c, hurt Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester takes care of Sam Winchester, broken bones, angry spirit, whump

“Sam! Look out!”

Dean tried to warn Sam about the ghost that appeared right beside him, but was too late. Dean could only watch as the ghost launched his brother through the air. Sam was slammed into a tree back first with a sickening crunch. Sam slumped to the ground. Dean wanted to rush over and make sure his brother was okay, or at least breathing, but the ghost was still there in the graveyard and it’s attention would soon be on Dean.

Dean fired rock salt at the ghost, dissipating it, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. The spirit was surprisingly powerful and the rock salt wasn’t banishing this ghost for very long. Dean seized the brief moment to pour a healthy amount of salt and fuel onto the remains of the poor bastard and lit them up with an entire book of matches. The spirit returned only to engulf in flames 2 feet in front of Dean. Dean jumped back, keeping out of reach of the flames. When the ghost was finally done roasting, Dean scrambled towards Sam who was just standing up.

“Hey, little brother. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. I don’t even think I hit my head.”

“Awesome, we can pick up a six pack on the way back to the motel and get some well deserved relaxation with the Die Hard marathon that’s on tonight.”

Dean began making his way towards the equipment duffels, clapping Sam on the shoulder as he passed. Sam let out a guttural yell so loud, Dean wouldn't be surprised if it woke the corpses surrounding them.

“Shit! I’m sorry Sam! I didn’t know!”

“Me either.” Sam panted out weakly. “My shoulder was sore, but I didn’t think anything of it. Clearly there is something more going on though. I think something might be broken. My shoulder blade maybe?”

“Alright, we’ll getcha slinged up and back to the motel. I’ll even let you have the good meds.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but it was only half-hearted. Sam actually really wanted those good drugs. This shit hurt. It hadn’t been bad until Dean smacked him. Asshole.

Dean gathered up the gear and made his way back to the car, Sam in tow. He dumped the gear in the trunk and pulled out the first aid kit, finding the sling before slamming the trunk lid closed.

“Plan still stands, ok Sammy? The only difference is you don’t get any beer.”

“Aw come on, Dean. I’m the one that got thrown around, I deserve a beer.”

“Exactly my point. You’re injured and there is no way I’m letting you drink alcohol if you’re gonna have the good pain meds in you.”

Dean had a point, but he didn’t want to admit it, so instead he remained silent and frowned as Dean slipped the sling into place.

“I mean if you really want a beer I can grab the advil for you.”

“No!” Sam yelled instantly. Dean laughed in response.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s get back. You can ice it while we watch McClane kick some ass.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday10 #febuwhump2021 #spn #spnfanfic

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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6 Feet Under

Febuwhump Day 9: Buried Alive

Fandom: Supernatural

TW: Panic attack

Word Count: 1079

Tags: hurt/comfort, emotionally hurt Sam winchester, Dean Winchester to the rescue, panic attacks, buried alive

Thump…..Thump.....Thump…..Thump

Sam woke up to an odd thumping sound. Each thump seemed to get quieter and quieter. And it was dark, really dark. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he got there. Where was Dean? Sam tried to wiggle around, but he found that there wasn’t much room on either side of him. In fact, both his shoulders were brushing up against the sides. Sam moved a hand to try and feel around, but he found that his hands were bound.

Sam paused then. He needed to figure out how the hell he ended up in this situation so he could figure out how to get out of this situation. He began searching his memories, what were he and Dean doing earlier today? Ow. Thinking made his head hurt. Why did his head hurt? Oh! They’d been hunting a shapeshifter! But why did his head hurt? It must have gotten the jump on him.

What had he been doing? That’s right! He had been at the library looking into town records and then…. Then…. Then what? He’d found something. Something that would be useful for the case, something about one of the missing persons. He tried calling Dean, but he hadn’t answered so he started walking back to the motel. Did he ever get back to the motel?

No. He didn’t. The shifter must have gotten to him somewhere in between the library and the motel. He remembered passing a big open field. Maybe the shifter had been hiding in the tall grasses? Either way, it didn’t matter. The shifter had gotten a hold of him and now he was in a dark confined space, with thumping sounds coming from above, and an aching head. The shifter must have hit him with something. That explained the headache at least.

Ok. Dark tight box. Thumping sounds that are getting softer and softer…. Oh shit! Sam realized at that moment exactly where he was. He was in a grave. He was being buried alive. Sam began to hyperventilate. Of all the ways he could die, this was seriously how he was gonna go? He’d killed hundreds of other monsters including other shifters and vampires and demons, even angels! But nope, he was gonna go out via suffocation in a box 6 feet under.

Maybe Dean would find him. Where had been Dean going while Sam was at the library? Think Sam Think! Right! He’d been going to pick up more silver rounds. They had realized they were almost out and they wanted to be prepared. Dean would notice that Sam hadn’t returned. And he’d try to call him and Sam wouldn’t have picked up. His phone!

Sam squirmed around, trying to feel if his phone was still in his pocket. It wasn’t there. Shit! Now what? Oh! He couldn’t call with a phone, but he could pray.

Hey Cas, I know you don’t have wings right now, but I’m being buried alive at the cemetery in Akron, Colorado. Can you please call Dean and tell him? I’d really like to not die like this. Thanks!

Ok. Ok. Cas has been called, Dean will be on his way and he’d be fine. He’s got this. He just has to hold on, Easy right? Right. Right…

Thump.....Thump…..Thump.....Thump

Nope. I’m dying here. And just like that, Sam is back to hyperventilating. It takes him a while to pull himself out of the spiral he’s created for himself and back to coherent thoughts. Just as he does, he realizes he can no longer hear the thumping of dirt being packed on top of him. The Shapeshifter must be done burying him. Dean will never find him. He’s trapped here for eternity. If Dean does find him he’s gonna have to salt and burn what’s left.

Sam swears he hears a gunshot, a very muffled gunshot, but a gunshot nonetheless. He must be hallucinating now. If he’s hallucinating that means he’s now running out of oxygen. Despite being counterproductive, Sam is thrown back into his hyperventilation cycle, which only uses his oxygen even faster.

Sam hears a weird scratching kind of noise above him and it startles him enough to stop breathing temporarily, a very rapid shift from too much breathing. The scratching sound continues, and is quite quick in pace.

“Sam!”

Was that Dean? It was really far away sounding, but it definitely sounded like Dean. Was his brother here to save him or was he still hallucinating. Probably still hallucinating. I mean the less oxygen he has the stronger the hallucinations are gonna get until eventually he loses consciousness and dies.

“Sam!”

Except that one was a little bit louder. And so is the scratching sound. In fact, that scratching sound is starting to sound more and more like a shovel. Like what they hear as they dig up a grave to salt and burn bones.

“Sam!”

“Dean!” he screams back. “Dean! I’m here. Get me out!”

It feels like an eternity later, but finally he hears the shovel over the coffin and Dean yelling at him to close his eyes so he can crack the lid. The cracking of a coffin never heard so damn good to Sam’s ears. As fresh air floods in, Sam begins gasping for air. He hadn’t realized how stale the air was and this air feels amazing. He can’t get enough of it. He feels hands on his shoulder, sitting him up.

“Slow your breathing down Sam. Like this.” Dean says. He exaggerates slow, deep breaths for Sam and Sam does his best to mimic Dean. Eventually, Sam is matching Dean’s perfectly and he doesn’t feel so lightheaded anymore.

“You’re ok little brother, I got you.”

Sam has never felt so relieved by those words in his life, and he’s certainly been in some awful situations with those calming words coming from Dean. Dean’s phone begins to vibrate and heavy guitar plays along with it.

“Hey, Cas. Yeah, I got him. He’s gonna be fine. We’ll get the shifter burned and make our way back to the motel. Let Sammy get some rest in a wide open motel room. Yeah. Thanks, Cas.”

Dean shoves the phone back into his pocket and helps Sam to stand up, gripping him tightly so he doesn’t fall over and so he feels a little more grounded and Sam couldn’t be more grateful for that grounding.

“Alright little brother, let’s get you out of here.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday9 #spn #fanfic #spnfanfic

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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No Sleepin’ on the Job

Febuwhump Day 8: “Hey, hey. This is no time to sleep” Fandom: Supernatural TW: Mentions of injury (Not too graphic)

Word Count: 1183 Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Dean Winchester takes care of Sam Winchester, casefic, wendigo, injured Sam Winchester

"Sam! Drop!"

Just as Sam went to drop, the wendigo towering over the gigantor named Sam, swiped his clawed hand down on Sam's shoulder. Sam emitted an awful guttural scream that caused Dean to shudder. Sam crumpled to the ground and Dean had to fight the urge to run over and check on him. Instead he raised his flare gun and fired. His shot lands, but he’d hit the Wendigo in the shoulder. It’s enough to kill it, but it had the ability to move around as the fire spread.

The wendigo screeched deafeningly and began flailing around in its desperation to survive. Dean watched carefully, eyes trained on Sam’s closeness to the thrashing creature. Sam’s eyes were open and following the wendigo’s movement and Dean was incredibly thankful. Because the wendigo chose that moment the drop to the ground and had Sam not been paying attention he’d have been squashed.

Sam barely managed to roll in time. His brain was moving sluggishly and initiating the turning movement almost caused him to black out from the pain that screamed through his shoulder. Thankfully, he’d managed to get far enough away that he wasn’t underneath the massive and foul monster. It did however land mere inches from him, still burning. Sam felt the intense heat and flinched back. He no longer had the strength to move though and he prayed he wouldn’t catch fire from the proximity.

Just then Sam felt hands on him, pulling him away from the flaming beast. Sam couldn’t help the grunt of pain that escaped him from the motion. It hurt, but he was damn glad that he was no longer at risk of bursting into flames.

Dean was looking down at him, kneeling above his head and speaking to him, but he couldn’t understand the words. He squinted up in concentration and finally, it started to make sense.

“Sammy, hey. Come on, little brother. Focus on me. Sam!”

Sam blinked up at him and moaned out some semblance of a response.

“There you are,” Dean sighed in relief. “Let me take a look at that shoulder. We need to get out of here before someone sees the smoke and comes investigating.”

Dean peeled away the flannel and cut Sam’s shirt sleeve using his knife. He cursed under his breath and pulled off his own flannel, bunching it up and pressing it against the massive claw marks. Sam wailed in response. “Sorry, little brother. I gotta stop this bleeding. We need to wash it out with holy water too and it’s definitely gonna require some stitches.”

Sam faded out a little from the pain, only hearing the last few words from Dean. When he was able to focus back in, he saw Dean rummaging in the duffle. He pulled out a large flask and opened it with his mouth since he only had one available hand. As quick as possible, Dean moved his flannel and flooded the wound with the blessed water. Dean heard a sizzling sound and then Sam’s scream in response. He flushed the area again and this time there's no sizzling. Dean thanks whoever is listening that he didn’t have to get any more supernatural cooties out.

Unfortunately, flushing the wound seemed to have picked up the bleeding pace. Dean presses the flannel back onto Sam’s shoulder and presses hard. Sam doesn’t seem to react so he looks down into his face. Sam’s eyes are closing and Dean is desperate to keep him awake.

“Hey, hey. This is no time to sleep!” Dean was going for some humor, but instead all that comes out is terror.

Sam does blink his eyes open, but they rest half mast.

“Stay with me Sam. I’m gonna get you patched up and then we can get out of here. You can sleep all you want when we get back to the motel ok?”

Sam nods, but it’s weak. He has to fight just to keep his eyes somewhat open and trained on Dean.

“Alright. You need some topping off, or you’re not gonna make it back to the car. So we’re gonna do a pressure bandage, a quick little field transfusion and we’ll pick up some supplies on the ride back, ok?”

Sam couldn’t even nod in response, but he blinked his eyes in rapid succession to show Dean his understanding. Dean pulled out several bandages from the first aid kit and deftly wrapped his shoulder tightly. Dean pulled the field transfusion kit. Dean marveled at the speed he was working at. Then he realized they’d been in so many situations like this, that he simply got quick and efficient with it. That thought brought a whole host of emotions with it and he shoved them all down. This was not the time to get emotional about their shitty job.

As Dean’s blood flowed into Sam, Sam seemed to perk up a little bit. He went from sheet white to just mildly pale and he seemed to be a little more awake. Dean wanted to continue on transfusing, but after a few minutes of transfusing he knew he needed to stop or he’d be less functional and he still needed to get them both back to the motel in one piece.

Dean packed the equipment back up, piled it onto himself and helped pick Sam up off the ground. He gave Sam a moment to just stand and lean on Dean to stabilize and then together they hobbled out of the woods. The car was about 3 miles away, a distance they could easily cover on a normal day in less than an hour, even in the rougher terrain, but Sam’s instability and constant fight to remain conscious and able to move, caused significant delay. Dean groaned in relief when he saw the shiny black car glistening in the moonlight. After two and a half hours of hiking with a severely injured little brother left him exhausted. He quickly bundled Sam up in the back of the Impala and raced out of the woods. He found a 24 hour corner store on the way to the motel and stocked up on orange juice, soup, and gatorade.

Dean dragged Sam into the motel room and practically dumped him on the bed. Sam groaned and Dean apologized. His energy was sapped and he’d essentially lost any ability to gently move his ginormous brother. Dean got Sam’s boots and jeans off and helped peel what was left of his shirts off before helping Sam shift on the bed to a more comfortable position.

“Ok. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You are gonna start by drinking at least half of this gatorade while I set up the suture kit. We’ll get you all stitched up, and then we’re both gonna sleep for several hours, yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Sam croaked out.

“Ok. Take these pills with that gatorade. For the pain. Maybe you won’t squirm so much that way.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but took the pills nonetheless. Dean took a deep breath and set to work on the mess that was Sam’s shoulder.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday8 #spn #fanfic

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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Car Accidents Cause Bruises

Febuwhump day 13: Hiding Injury

Fandom: Supernatural TW: none Word Count: 1728 Tags: Hurt Sam Winchester, Dean takes care of Sam, Parental Bobby Singer, Season 2, Post John’s death

The Winchester’s were gonna be the death of him, Bobby decided. Bobby wasn’t a huge fan of John and he especially hated how he’d raised the boys, but he was still a major loss to the hunting community, and he knew his boys were hurting over the loss of their father. Dean was on the usual diet of hunters in pain, whiskey and nothing but. He was usually found fixing the Impala, but Bobby knew he’d taken a few swings at some of the junkers farther out in the salvage yard. If Dean thought Bobby couldn’t hear him, he was a dumbass. More likely though, Dean just didn’t care if Bobby heard him or not.

Sam on the other hand was far more reserved. He was obviously hurting, but was doing everything in his power to hide his hurt. Bobby had heard him crying in the bathroom just that morning. He was also hiding physical injuries. Bobby tried several times to take a look at the injuries, but Sam brushed them off, stating that the medical staff had looked him over, and he was fine. Bobby knew that was bullshit. He was certain Sam had signed an AMA form the second he could to be with his dying brother. Sam only let one person care for him, and that person was avoiding him like the plague.

Bobby looked up from his coffee mug as Sam walked into the kitchen, deep bruises under his eyes indicated just how little sleep the kid was getting. and nodded to him in greeting. He had a soft limp as he crossed to the coffee pot and Bobby sighed inwardly. Damn Sam for hiding this shit from him. Maybe if he got Sam to help him out today he could get him to open up some about the injuries. At least enough to know what Sam was dealing with physically.

“I have some research I need to get done for a hunter down in Kentucky. I could use an extra pair of eyes.”

Sam nodded back to Bobby. “Sure, Bobby. I’ll meet you in the library.” He limped out of the kitchen and Bobby let himself sigh out loud. Like he said, they’ll be the death of him. After taking a few more moments to gather up his small ounce of patience reserved solely for his boys, he stands with a grunt and makes his way towards his desk. Sam’s leaning back in an armchair, eyes closed and hands massaging his temples.

Bobby rolls his eyes and walks into the room, looking towards the stacks of books next to the desk, giving Sam a chance to recover, letting him think Bobby didn’t just see further proof of his pain.

The morning passes slowly and uneventfully Bobby can tell Sam is having trouble focusing on the material. Sam eye’s keep glazing over until he shakes his head and blinks a few times before scanning the book til he finds where he lost his focus. A few hours into the research Bobby asks Sam to hand him a large book. Sam reaches towards the book on his left side without his gaze breaking from the research on his lap. When he grasps the book and lifts, a small sharp gasp erupts from him and he winces. Quickly, he steels his face and reaches his other hand to help lift, handing the book off without any eye contact. Bobby audibly sighs, but doesn’t say anything about it.

When lunch time hits, Sam is spacing out for longer and longer periods of time and keeps adjusting his position every few seconds. Bobby calls for a break and says he’s gonna make lunch and fetch Dean to come eat.

“Good luck with that.” Sam snorts. “He hasn’t wanted to eat since dad.”

“Well it’s about time that changes. As much as the boy wants to live off whiskey, the idgit’s not gonna be able to sustain it much longer.”

Bobby stalked off towards the kitchen and slapped together a sandwich for each of them. He called out to Sam, telling him to come eat while he went and got Dean. He finds Dean under the Impala, an open bottle of whiskey next to the toolbox.

“Dean, lunch is on the table, come eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care. Come eat. Besides, I need to talk to you. It’s about Sam. There’s something wrong with him.”

“Yeah, he keeps trying to get me to do the whole caring and sharing bullshit.”

“No, ya idgit. He’s hiding something. He keeps squinting at the lights and losing focus. He’s limping and rumbling at his temples when he thinks I can’t see him. And there’s something wrong with his left shoulder.”

Dean slides out from under the car, a worried expression on his face.

“What happened? Did he go somewhere?”

“No you dumbass. he’s hurt from the damn car wreck. You’ve seen the car carcass, Dean. You think he walked away from that accident with no injuries? You may have made a miraculous recovery, but he didn’t.”

“Shit.”

“He won’t let me look at any of them, and any time I ask about them he claims he’s fine. You were in real bad shape Dean. I’d bet a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue that he signed out AMA the second he was able to so he could be with you. Now get your head out of your ass and go talk some sense into that boy”

Dean sighed and washed a hand down his face. “You’re right. I’ll go take a look at his injuries. Thanks, Bobby. I haven’t been watching out for him like I should.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, son. You’re hurtin’ too. He doesn’t blame ya for that.”

Dean sighed, but pushed past Bobby and moved towards the house. Upon entering the kitchen, he found two plates each with a sandwich on it, but no Sam. Dean ignored the sandwiches and went into the living room. Sam wasn’t anywhere on the bottom floor, leaving only one place Sam could be, their shared room upstairs.

When Dean made it to the bedroom door, he paused. He washed his hand back down his face and pushed the door open. Sam was laying on the far bed on his right side, back to him. An uneaten sandwich sits on the bedside table. Dean walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge next to Sam. He brushed a piece of hair from his eyes and shook his shoulder gently.

“Sammy, hey Sammy. Wake up for me bud.”

Sam blinked his eyes open, squinting at the daylight coming in through the window. “Dean? What’s wrong?” Sam tried to sit up, wincing as he did so. Dean helped him come to sitting, stabilizing him gently with a hand on his shoulder.

“Bobby said you’ve been hurtin’. Is that true Sam? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m fine, Dean. You have your own shit to deal with. You don’t need my problems on top.”

“”That’s not true, Sam. I’m your big brother, I’m supposed to look out for you.” Dean meant every word, but he couldn’t help the small flinch he gave, thinking about his Dad’s last words. Luckily, Sam didn’t seem to catch it. “What’s hurtin' you Sammy?”

Sam dropped his head down, refusing to make eye contact. “Come, on Sammy. Let me take a look.”

Sam shook his head once more. “Really, Dean. I’m fine.”

“Then why can’t you look me in the eye, Sammy?” Dean paused, allowing Sam a chance to speak up. When he remained silent, Dean continued. “Bobby said you’ve been squinting and can’t keep focus. Concussion?”

Sam nodded in response. “Headache with it?”

Another nod. “He also said something was up with your shoulder. Can I take a look?”

Sam nods a third time and Dean suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Sam often goes nonverbal when he’s injured and it drives Dean nuts. He just wants to take care of the kid and move on with it. Dean pulls Sam’s shirt up and over his head and gasps at the sight. Sam’s chest is a giant purple bruise.

“Christ, Sam!”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Sam croaks out weakly.

“Bullshit, Sam. And your shoulder too. Jesus. Bobby said you were limping.”

“My knee looks about the same.”

Dean sighed and washed his hand over his face yet again. “Have you taken anything?”

Sam shook his head and this time Dean did roll his eyes. “You know, Sam. For being so smart, you’re really dumb sometimes.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hang out here, I’ll go get you some meds and ice.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but at Dean’s glare stopped him. Dean made his way downstairs grabbing an ice pack and a couple bags of frozen vegetables. He made sure to stop by the bathroom with the biggest first aid kit and pulled out a bottle of decent pain meds. Tylenol certainly wasn’t gonna help much with bruises like that. After wetting a washcloth, he heads back to the bedroom.

When Dean returns, Sam has laid back down and has his arm slung across his eyes. “Alright, Sammy. I got some meds for you.” Dean opens the bottle and taps out two pills, reaching out to hand them to Sam. Sam uncovers his eyes and catches sight of the bottle. “I don’t need that stuff Dean. Just get me some advil or something.”

“No way Sam. These bruises are pretty damn bad, and this headache of yours seems pretty bad thanks to that concussion you got. Take the meds Sam.”

“They make me tired.”

“Good, those bags under your eyes tell me you could use the sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yeah.” Sam’s response is barely a whisper.

“I’ll stay right here Sammy. I’ll wake you up if you start to have a nightmare ok? But you need to get some rest. And when you wake up, you need to eat something.”

Sam nodded, looking like he didn’t really want to agree, but knew better than to try and stop a worried Dean. Sam swallows the pills and lays his head back down. Dean drapes the cool washcloth over Sam’s eyes and places wrapped ice packs on the bruised areas.

“Get some rest, Sammy. I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday13 #spn

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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Demonic Overdose

Febuwhump Day 7: Poisoning

Fandom: Supernatural

TW: Non-consensual Drug Use

Word Count: 1255

Tags: Hurt Sam Winchester, protective Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, demonic possession, non-consensual drug use

Dean stepped from the shadows once he heard the angry roar. Whoever the Demon was, they weren’t very smart. Dean had set several different devil’s traps around the warehouse. Some on the floor, some on the lower ceilings areas. This dumbass had walked into the first one. And it wasn’t even super well hidden.

As Dean stepped from out of his hiding spot, the demons’ head whipped around to face him. The demon grinned maliciously and Dean shivered. It was eerie seeing his normally kind and empathetic brother’s face with such a cold and viscous grin.

“Hey, Dean. I think I have something of yours. You want it back?”

“Get out of him you son of a bitch.”

“But why? I’m having so much fun. This meatsuit is impeccable. The muscles are nice and toned. I can reach the top shelf anywhere I go. I think I might stay.”

“No you won't, you dick.” Dean said as he pulled John’s journal up to read the exorcism.

“Oh! I almost forgot. One thing before you start.” Before Dean could even react, the demon pulled a small bottle from Sam’s jacket. He popped it open and dumped the entire bottle in his mouth.

“What was that?” Dean demanded

The only response he received was another malevolent smirk.

“Tell me!”

“Now why would I do that? It takes away all the fun.”

“You son of a bitch, I hope you rot in hell.” Dean growled. Dean spat out the exorcism as fast as he could without mangling the words. The second the black smoke finished pouring out of Sam’s mouth, Sam collapsed to the ground.

“Sammy!” Dean screamed as he ran towards his brother. “Hey, little brother. Are you with me?”

Sam gave no movement at Dean’s words. Dean shook him, but there was no response. He tried grinding his knuckles into Sam’s sternum and still received no response. Dean double checked that Sam still had a pulse and was relieved to feel one, weak as it was. Sam’s breathing was far too slow and shallow to be adequate. He turned Sam towards him until he laid on his side and stuck his fingers down Sam’s throat. Sam gagged but didn’t puke, so Dean tried again, slightly increasing the pressure at the back of Sam’s throat. Finally, Sam puked. Several half digested white pills came tumbling out with some stomach acid.

Dean realized then that he was out of his league. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed 911. The operator stayed on the line with him as he waited for the ambulance to arrive. The warehouse was on the outskirts of the city meaning it would take a little bit longer for them to arrive. Dean was thankful they weren’t out in the damn boonies.

Dean kept a hand pressed to his brother’s neck, trying not to panic as long as he still felt the thump of Sam’s heart. Finally, Dean heard sirens in the distance. He’d never been so thankful for that sound in his life. Usually they avoided those sirens like the plague, but today Dean was happy to hear them.

The medics came rushing in and quickly took control of the situation. Dean explained what had happened, sans demon of course, as they assessed him. Dean just watched as they placed a mask over Sam’s mouth and squeezed air into his lungs for him. They set up an IV and pushed some sort of medication that brought Sam to a little more awareness. As soon as Sam was semi-conscious, they loaded him onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. Dean followed behind in the Impala. He wanted to be in the back of the bus with Sam, but they were gonna need a quick escape from the hospital, so Baby needed to be there with them.

At the ER, the doctors asked Dean countless questions, many that Dean didn’t even know, like what Sam took and where he got the meds from. Of course he also had to fill out the insurance info. Dean tried to get them to release him, but the doctor insisted he be kept for observation. They needed to question Sam once he was awake more and determine whether or not a psych hold was in order.

Dean was permitted to sit with his brother once he’d been admitted and settled into his room. He didn’t relax until he saw Sam shifting and his eyes fluttered open. Dean felt a wave of relief pass over him and most of his tension melted away.

“Heya Sammy. How’re you feeling little brother?”

“Like I got run over by a truck.”

“I’m sure. The doc will probably be in soon. She wants to get your story. She wants to place you in a psych hold, so choose your words wisely. As soon as things settle for tonight we’ll break out, ok?”

Sam nodded in response and searched his brain for the best story that would sound believable and keep him off the hold. Dean was gonna struggle to get him out if he was locked up in the psych ward. Before he could settle on the best option, there was a knock at the door and a tall blonde woman in a white coat walked into the room.

Sam decided in that instant to go with what most possessions victims experienced, blackout. He explained to the doctor that he had absolutely no recollection of the past 2 nights and pleaded with her that he had absolutely no desire to off himself. Luckily she bought it enough to not impose a psych hold, but she did put in an order for a psychologist to visit in the morning before he could be released. Sam agreed to the terms, only because they planned on leaving during the night, but she didn’t need to know that. Dean prepped the car, moving as close as possible now that the parking lot was less empty and brought in extra clothes for Sam to change into.

They waited until the night nurse was doing his rounds. As soon as he finished checking on Sam, Dean helped him dress hastily and transferred him into a wheelchair. Sam fought against it, but Dean convinced him that it would work best if they could get out fast, and Sam was still a little unsteady on his feet. Dean peeked out the door and waited for the nurse to enter another patient’s room, and booked down the hall and into the elevator. As soon as Sam was safely loaded into the Impala, they flew out of the parking lot, and straight to the motel. Dean made Sam stay in the car as he quickly packed up the motel and they were on the road in less than 10 minutes.

“I’ll start looking for a case for us once we get to the next city.”

“No way Sammy. We’re taking a break dude.”

“What? No. I’m fine Dean.”

“Sam, stop. You literally almost died from overdose, dude. No way are we hunting for at least a week. You are gonna rest. If that means I have to chain you to the bed, then I will.”

Sam opened up his mouth to argue, but once glance at Dean’s face and he wisely chose to shut up. Sam was no match for a big brother in mother hen mode over a sick or injured little brother. Sam smiled at the thought. He didn’t know what he’d do without his protective big brother.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday7

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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Chamomile Tea has Nothing on Dean Winchester

Febuwhump day 6: Insomnia Fandom: Supernatural

TW: none

Word Count: 907 Tags: H/C, emotional H/C, insomia, insomiac Sam, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester’s parent Sam lay on the lumpy motel bed and willed himself to fall asleep. Unfortunately, all the willing in the world didn’t seem to do any good since Sam remained awake. It was getting ridiculous, this was the third night in a row that Sam had been unable to sleep. He was trying, really trying. But his brain was traumatized from the fiery nightmares that plagued him in sleep, so instead it decided to just stay awake.

Sam knew it wasn’t healthy. The human body needs sleep, but his wasn’t willing to do so. It was also extremely dangerous considering what he and Dean did for a living. Sam didn’t really care if he was injured, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Dean being hurt from a foolish mistake Sam made cause he wasn’t sleeping.

Sam tried everything he could think of. He’d tried meditating, different breathing patterns, listening to soft music. Hell, he even went out and bought camomile tea. Dean teased him for drinking something as girly as tea, but Sam didn't really care. He just wanted to sleep.

When the sun started to rise, Sam rolled out of the shitty bed and made his way into the bathroom. He took a speedy shower and left the room to go find some sort of food for him and his brother to eat. Sam knew his brother wouldn’t likely be up for at least another hour, so he stopped at a cafe and ordered a black eye: black coffee with 2 shots of espresso. Sam may have preferred what Dean referred to as frou-frou drinks, but he was past the point of being able to function off his favored vanilla latte.

Sam slammed the coffee as he sat at the corner table, hoping the caffeine would kick in quickly. Once his cup was empty, he ordered another for himself and a drip coffee for Dean as well as an assortment of pastries and a couple breakfast burritos. The thought of consuming any food made his stomach churn, but he knew Dean would make him eat something when he returned to the motel. Dean wouldn’t buy that he ate while he was out anymore. Honestly Dean probably never bought it, but up until recently, Dean had let it slide.

Dean, surprisingly, was in the shower when Sam returned to the room. Sam booted up his laptop at the table as he began drinking his second cup of coffee in the day. Dean joined him less than 10 minutes later, muttering his thanks for the breakfast and coffee. Sam continued his research on the laptop in relative silence, the only sounds in the room being the tapping of the laptop keyboard and the eating sounds coming from Dean.

“Hey Sam, have you found us any new cases?”

Sam looked up to respond to Dean, but before he could even open his mouth to respond, Dean gasped. “Dude did you sleep at all last night?”

Sam sighed, but shook his head. No point in lying to Dean anyway.

“Are you even trying?”

“Yes, Dean! I can’t sleep! I’ve tried. I really have. I’m exhausted Dean. This is the 3rd night in a row I haven’t gotten a single minute of sleep. I’ve tried everything I can think of, but nothing is working. That tea I drank last night, that you said was girly, was supposed to help, but it didn’t do shit.”

By the end of Sam’s rant, Dean could see Sam’s eyes get a little watery and his breathing had picked up some. He looked as if he was about to have a breakdown. It threw Dean back to when Sam was only 4. He used to staunchly refuse to take a nap and by the time bedtime rolled around, he was left with an overtired Sam. When Sam got to that point, he always got emotional, crying at the drop of a hat. Even though 18 years had passed, Sam was acting exactly the same. Dean was in luck. He knew exactly how to handle an overtired Sam.

“Alright, Sammy. I believe you. You’re trying, but it’s just not working.” Dean said softly. Dean stood and walked slowly over to his bed. It was important not to spook an exhausted Sam. He sat down on the bed scooting so his back was up against the headboard.

“Come here, Sammy.” Dean called out, making sure to keep his voice gentle and calm.

“What? No. You were just asking me if I found a hunt. I’m looking for one.”

“It’s fine Sammy. We can find one later okay? Just come sit down with me for a while.”

Sam closed his laptop and trudged towards Dean, but made no move to actually get on the bed. Dean simply reached out and grabbed Sam’s wrist and gently pulled him onto the bed with him.

“Lay down, Sammy.”

An annoyed sound fell out of Sam, but he listened anyway, and laid down, curling up on his side. Dean pulled Sam’s head up onto his lap and began running his fingers through Sam’s shaggy hair. Dean began humming a Metallica song quietly. After several minutes, Sam finally began to relax, his tense muscles slowly loosening. Dean kept up his ministrations until Sam’s breathing deepend, and he felt Sam go completely limp. Dean couldn’t help the small smile and the feeling of pride that he could still soothe an overtired little brother to sleep.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday6 #spn

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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The Family Business and Soccer

Febuwhump day 5: “Take me instead” Fandom: Supernatural TW: some verbal abuse

Word Count:

Tags: emotionally hurt Sam Winchester, hurt Dean Winchester, protective Dean, Dean takes care of Sam, John Winchester is an asshole

As Dean grew up, he learned how to read his dad’s moods. He knew when he could ask questions, he knew when Dad wanted to be left alone, and he certainly knew when he was about to explode on anything that stepped in his pathway. Dean learned how to read these moods so that he could keep his inquisitive brother, who didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, as far from their father as possible. Unfortunately, Dean wasn’t fast enough this time.

“But dad, you said we could stay til winter break. I still have a few soccer games before the semester ends.”

“You think your soccer games are important Sam? Hmm? You think soccer is more important than people’s lives?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Well it’s what I’m hearing. In fact I think you need to appreciate what we do a little more Sam. You’re coming with me on this hunt tonight?”

“Tonight?!” Sam squeaked. It was a school night. Dad had never taken him on a school night before. In fact Sam had only been on 2 hunts ever. Both were salt and burn cases for regular old vengeful spirits. According to Dean those were milk runs.

“You heard me. Go get ready, we leave in 10.”

“Yes, sir” Sam squeaked as he ran to the room he and Dean shared in the house they were renting. He needed to calm himself down before getting into that car with his father.

“Dad, wait. Take me instead.” Dean piped up. He was broadcasting an air of confidence, but Dean was shaking on the inside. Not only was he essentially standing up to his father when he was in a terrible mood, but he was contradicting his decisions. But Dean was way more terrified of something happening to Sammy because dad took him on a hunt far more advanced than Sam had ever experienced, and he was angry on top of it all.

“What?” his father snapped back.

“I said take me instead. Sammy is only 9 and has only been on a few cases. And both of them were for simple vengeful spirits being laid to rest. This is a poltergeist. They're way more violent and Sammy isn’t very experienced yet. I’ve helped you with a couple other poltergeists. I can definitely handle it.”

“It’s not about whether or not you can handle it, son. He needs to see that what we do is important.”

“Then we’ll show him. But I don’t think tonight is the night. He needs more training before going against such a violent spirit.”

“Fine. Let your brother know you’re coming instead. Be in the Impala in 5. We need to head out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Dean, let him know that attitude better be gone by the time we’re back or I’ll tan his hide.”

“Dean clenched his jaw at his father’s threat, but muttered out a “yes, sir” before following Sam to their shared room.

“Hey, Sammy. I told Dad to take me instead. So I want you to just finish up your homework, ok kiddo?”

“Wait, what? Dad is letting me stay?”

“Only cause I convinced him to. Keep the door locked and salted and keep the shotgun within reach ok? I gotta go. Oh and make sure you don’t say anything to dad except “yes, sir” or “no, sir” for the rest of the week ok? I don’t want him to take his bad mood out on you.”

Sam simply shook his head in acceptance and Dean ran out of the room.

________________________________________________________________

“Sam!” His dad yelled as he opened the front door 3 hours later. “Get over here and help me with your brother.”

Sam scampered out of his room towards the front door. Dean was leaning heavily on his father so Sam came up on Dean’s other side. Sam and his father managed to get Dean to his bed.

“Take care of him, Sam. He’s got a couple broken ribs and a mild concussion. He just needs to rest. Make sure he has what he needs.”

“Yes, sir.”

As soon as John left the room, Sam began bustling around. He removed Dean’s shoes, helped him sit up and took off his jacket, he fluffed the pillows while Dean was still sitting up, got him under the covers once he laid back and he grabbed Dean a glass of water and some Tylenol. Dean was putting up with his brother’s ministrations, but he finally snapped when Sam kept trying to find ways to help out even after Dean was settled and clearly no longer in need of anything.

“Sam. I’m fine. I promise. Just got to bed.”

“Ok, Dean.” Sam retreated to his own bed after turning off the lights. He laid in bed for several minutes before he couldn’t hold in his guilt any longer.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“For what?”

“You weren’t supposed to go on that hunt. I was. But you went so I wouldn’t have to and now you’re hurt.” Sam was barely holding back his tears, but he had to stay strong. Dean didn’t like chick flick moments and if he started crying that’s definitely what this would turn into.

“Sammy, this isn’t your fault, and besides. It’s my job to protect you. If you went out there tonight, you probably would have been hurt too, and I just don’t want that to happen ok?”

“Ok, Dean.” Sam said. He still felt guilty. Sam didn’t care if he got hurt. Dean being hurt because he went in Sam’s place wasn’t ok.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

Sam bolted out of bed, ready to help Dean with whatever it was he needed. “What do you need, Dean?”

“Climb in.” He said as he pulled back the covers for Sam to join him. When Sam just stared at him, a confused expression on his face, Dean reached out and pulled Sam’s wrist towards him until Sam finally started climbing into his bed.

“I’m alright, Sammy. I promise. I am not hurt because of you, ok? I went because I wanted to go.”

Sam nodded. He wasn’t quite there a hundred percent, but being cuddled up to Dean made him feel like everything was gonna be ok.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Sammy.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday5 #spn #Deanwinchestertakescareorsamwinchester #hurtdeanwinchester #emotionallyhurtsamwinchester

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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Dean Winchester Hates Witches Take 2

Febuwhump Day 4: Impalement

Fandom: Supernatural

TW: None that I can think of

Work Count: 1497 Tags: whump, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, de-aging, de-aged Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester takes care of Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester’s parent,

Dean sent the bullet flying into the witch. As soon as he confirmed her dead, he turned to his little brother. Last he’d seen, his brother had been laying in a heap on the floor. But Sam’s massive body wasn’t there anymore. In his place lay a small child in a man’s clothes.

“Sam?”

Dean crept closer, making sure his gun was still handy in case this was a trick. Dean nudged the small child onto its back and let out a gasp. The child was Sam, but he looked to be about 5 years old.

“Oh shit.”

Little Sam began to stir at that moment. He twitched his eyes open and glanced up at Dean before scrambling back, terror on his little face. Sam’s little body got tangled up in the massive clothes. Dean raised his hands up, trying to show Sam he meant no harm. Sam shrieked and Dean looked up at his hands realizing his gun was still in his hand. He quickly threw the firearm into his waistband and raised his arms up once again.

“Easy, Sammy. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“Well, uh.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I know this is gonna sound weird Sammy, but uh, I’m your brother, Dean.”

“You’re not Dean. You’re old, Dean is 9.”

“I know Sammy, I know it seems that way. But I really am Dean. Something happened to you, bud. You’re supposed to be an adult, like me.”

“How do I know you’re really Dean?”

Dean paused, wracking his brain for anything he could think of to prove his identity. His first thought was the amulet, but at age 5, Sam hadn’t given it to him yet. Finally, a spark of inspiration hit him.

“Your first day of kindergarten, I walked you to your classroom. You didn’t want to let go of my hand, but I told you I would be waiting for you right outside the door as soon as the bell rang in the afternoon. And I was. On the way home, you told me all about your new teacher and the friend you made who had the same name as me. You thought it was so cool you made a friend who’s name was Dean,”

Upon hearing the tale, Sam jumped up and began running towards Dean. The pants were so big that he ran right out of them and the shirt fell off one shoulder. Dean squatted down, letting Sam run into his arms.

"Hey, Sammy. I know this is scary, but we'll figure it out."

"I know you will Dean. You always protect me."

Dean felt a rush of warmth spread in his chest at Sam's words. "And I always will Sammy."

Dean wished he could've called Bobby. The man would have called them idgits for getting themselves into a situation like this, but he'd help them with research and would be able to guide Dean on where he should look. But Bobby was dead now, so Dean was on his own. So instead of calling Bobby, he tried to think about where to look to find a reversal.

On the way back to the motel, Dean stopped at a local thrift store. He needed to find clothes that were designed for a 5 year old instead of a sasquatch. A few concerned glances were thrown toward the kid drowning in nothing but a t-shirt, but Dean tried to ignore them and get done with the shopping. Dean felt much better as soon as they stepped through the door of the motel and away from any prying eyes.

"Alright, Sammy. I gotta do some research. Why don't you watch some TV or something while I do that?" Dean said as handed the remote to Little Sam.

Sam looked hesitant, but took the remote from Dean anyway. "Are you sure it's ok? Daddy doesn't like when the TV is on when he's doing research."

"I'm not dad, squirt. I don't mind if the TV is on. If I did I wouldn't have suggested it."

Sam thought about it for a second, but then smiled brightly at Dean before plopping on a bed and clicking the TV on. Dean couldn't help but notice that Sammy automatically went to the furthest bed from the door.

Sam clicked through several channels before settling on the Disney Channel. Sam was mesmerized as a movie called Frozen came on. The picture was so clear compared to the cartoons he was used to. He instantly became absorbed in the storyline.

Dean focused on his research. He started with John’s journal, but when that proved unhelpful, he turned to a tome on witchcraft that the boys actually kept in the car for such times as these. He was just starting to find something that might be useful for their situation when he heard a fearful cry from his actually Little brother. Dean’s head snaps up and he finds a distraught Sam.

“What’s wrong Sammy?” He asks as he makes his way over to the bed and sits down beside Sam. Sam launches himself into Dean’s arms and begins to cry.

“That snowman was just impaled.”

Dean was confused. He knew Sam had been a sensitive child, but he doubted a kids movie on the Disney channel had shown a graphic scene such as impalement. And also, how did a 5 year old even know what that meant?

“How do you know what impalement is Sam?”

“Daddy came home bleeding one night and I heard him say he’d been impaled.”

“When did you hear that?”

“He thought I was sleeping. But I was just faking. I wanted to see daddy when he got home, but when he got home he looked really angry, so I just pretended to sleep.”

Dean thought he remembered the specific incident that Sam was talking about, but he couldn’t be 100% sure. After all, their dad had come home many times injured. Either way it was upsetting Sammy, so he had to do something. He glanced up at the screen and saw a little snowman talking to a man and woman.

“Look Sammy, the snowman is fine, see?!”

Sam looked up and saw the snowman talking to Anna and Kristoff and he felt a little better. “Isn’t he in pain though?”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“But Daddy was. He kept making ugly faces and saying bad words.”

“Well, do normal snowmen talk Sam?”

“No”

“Why does this snowman talk?”

“He’s a magic snowman. Elsa made him with her ice powers.”

“So he probably doesn’t feel any owies because of the magic.”

“Oh, ok.”

“And even though dad did feel his owie, he got better right?”

“Right.”

“Well so did the magic snowman.”

“Ok.”

Dean moved to stand up, but Sam clung to him. Sam seemed to have accepted Dean’s magic explanation, but he was obviously still feeling somewhat distressed.

“Will you sit and finish the movie with me Dean?”

“I really need to get this research done Sammy.”

Instead of using words to argue with Dean, Sam simply looked up at him and gave him the widest, pleading eyes he could muster. Dean didn’t remember him using his puppy dog eyes that young, but clearly he could and they were lethal.

“Damn, Sammy. Those should seriously be illegal.”

“Hmm?” “Nothing, nevermind kiddo. Fine. I will watch the rest of the movie with you. But then I need to go back to work ok?” “Ok.” Sam said, clearly happy he got what he wanted. He snuggled further into Dean. Dean would never admit it out loud, but it felt nice having his little brother all cuddled up with him. Without even realizing he was even doing it, Dean reached down and began carding his fingers through Sam’s floppy hair. Within 20 minutes, the kid was passed out. Dean had promised he’d finish the movie with Sam, so even though Sam slept through the end, Dean sat with Sam cuddled up in his lap and ran his fingers gently over his scalp until the credits rolled.

Once the movie was over, Dean gently laid Sam down on the bed and returned to his research. It took another few hours, but Dean finally determined that there was nothing he could do to reverse the spell, they would just have to wait it out. The book said that most de-aging spells lasted 3 to 5 days, but if the witch was powerful enough it could last up to 8 or 9. The witch has been doing pretty minor level stuff when they caught onto her, so he didn’t think Sam would be stuck like this for more than 5 days.

Dean sighed and began a mental list of things he would need for Little Sam until Big Sam returned to him. For now, all Dean could do was enjoy the cuddles and hope that Big Sam didn’t remember anything when he aged up.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday4 #spn #de-aged #Deanwinchestertakescareorsamwinchester

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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Sick Sam’s Shouldn’t Hunt

Febuwhump Day 3: Imprisonment

Fandom: Supernatural

TW: language, description of a panic attack

Word count: 1399 Tags: whump, hurt Sam Winchester, sick Sam winchester, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, panic attack, Dean Winchester takes care of Sam Winchester, restraints, handcuffs, Dean unintentionally being an asshole “No, Sam. There is no fucking way you are coming with me.”

“Seriously Dean? It’s a cold. I’m not dying.”

“You’re right, you aren’t dying, but you easily could die if you come along.”

“Really Dean? Exaggerating much?”

“No, dumbass. First of all, this is a Werewolf, which means it has wicked good hearing and we need to be stealthy. You can’t stop coughing for more than two minutes at a time. It’ll totally hear us coming if you’re there.”

As if Dean summoned it to prove a point, Sam let out a huge hacking cough that led to several other coughs until Sam could barely breathe. Dean took pity on his brother and thumped him hard on the back until the coughing finally subsided. Dean took Sam’s need to catch his breath to press on.

“Secondly, you look ready to faint on me right here and now and we’ve been resting at the motel all day.”

“Only girls faint, Dean.”

“My point exactly,” Dean said with a smirk. Sam threw a bitch face his way, but Dean ignored it and continued. “And lastly, You are all flushed, which means you’re running a pretty good fever.”

Dean snaked an arm out and placed the back of his hand on Sam’s head before Sam could dodge out of the way. Dean frowned at the heat coming off his little brother. It was even more than he’d anticipated. Much higher and he’d be forcing Sam into a cool bath.

“Yeah, there is no way you are coming with me tonight, dude. Those heat waves you’re throwing off are way too much for me to let you out of the damn motel room, let alone a hunt.”

“I’m going with Dean, you need backup. I won’t let you do this alone.”

“It’ll be a milk run, Sammy. It’s just one werewolf. I’ll be fine.”

“Every time we say it’s a milk run something goes wrong. No way are you going by yourself.”

“Ok, Sammy.” Dean sighed. “I’ll get the bags ready to go. Just go sit on the bed. I want you to rest right up until we leave ok?”

Sam rolled his eyes at what he felt was overprotection from Dean, but listened anyway. He didn’t want to incur the big brother wrath that Dean demonstrated any time Sam was injured or sick and refused to take it easy.

Dean disappeared out the motel room and Sam could hear the trunk pop open and then close a few minutes later. He carried in one of the duffels and the med kit and Sam groaned.

“I don’t want to hear it Sam, that fever is too high. I just want you to take an Advil. Just bring it down a bit.”

Again Sam rolled his eyes, but took the pills that Dean handed him. Dean utilized this moment to snap a pair of handcuffs on his brother and hook the other side to the bed frame.

“What the hell Dean?!”

“Sorry, Sammy. I can’t let you come on this hunt. You are too sick and there's too much risk for something to go wrong if you’re there.”

Dean took another set of cuffs and wrestled with Sam for his other arm. Sam was doing a fine job of holding his own until another massive cough came barrelling out and Dean took the opportunity to snap the other cuffs closed, effectively pinning Sam’s upper half to the headboard. Sam would not easily get out of this arrangement. And while it was unlikely that Sam would even be able to gain access to any lock picking materials hidden on his body, Dean patted Sam down, making sure to remove any paper clips and bobby pins attached to Sam’s clothes.

“Dean, please. Do not leave me like this.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. I really am. This is not how I wanted tonight to go.”

Dean picked up the bag and Sam panicked. “Dean, stop! You can’t just imprison me in the damn hotel room.”

“I can, and I am.”

And with that, Dean walked out of the room and to the Impala. Sam’s breathing sped up as he heard the engine start up and leave the parking lot. Sam’s brain decided to be extremely unhelpful and supplied him with countless scenarios of Dean and the Werewolf. Dean getting clawed to shreds, bitten and turned, pushed into a wall and killed from head trauma and an endless number of other horrific ways this hunt could go wrong.

To make matters worse, Sam had a realization: iIf Dean was killed on this hunt, Sam was stuck like this until someone found him. It made him remember the time Becky entranced him with a love spell and tied him to the bed when it started to wear off. Thinking about being tied up and waiting threw his mind back to the cage, when Lucifer would tie him up and leave him for days, weeks even. Letting the anticipation slowly drive him mad. Sam continued to spiral. The awful thoughts caused his breathing to speed up even further. His lungs protested with violent coughs, cutting off his oxygen intake further and causing his body to scream in need.

Dean returned to find his brother in a blinding panic. Breathing so fast and hard he was choking on the little air he was managing to get in between vicious painful sounding coughs. Dean had sustained a few minor injuries, but they were immediately ignored when Dean saw the state Sam was in.

Dean rushed to Sam's side and released both sets of cuffs. Sam didn’t even seem to notice Dean’s arrival or his release from restraints, too locked inside his own head. Dean pulled Sam to his chest and began speaking to him in low soothing tones. He didn’t even know what he was saying to Sam, just kept murmuring softly to him.

After what felt like ages, Sam seemed to return to himself, becoming more cognizant to the world around him. When Dean saw Sam’s watery gaze directed up at him he sighed in relief.

“Hey, Sammy. Just breathe okay?”

Sam nodded and focused his attention on trying to match the exaggerated breaths Dean was taking for him. It took several minutes, but Sam was finally able to return himself to a semi normal breathing pattern. The coughing was still persistent, but at least he could pull in good amounts of air in between them.

“Sorry.” Sam finally croaked out.

“Why are you apologizing, Sam? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I completely freaked out Dean. Being restrained like that should not have made me freak out the way it did. Dad taught me better than that. I should have kept my cool.”

“Was it the actual act of being restrained that sent you into the spiral?”

“Not at first.”

“Not at first?”

“First I was imagining all the ways that the hunt could go wrong when you didn’t have backup. Then my brain caught on to the fact that if something happened to you I was stuck like this and that just made me think of Becky and uh, Lucifer.”

As soon as Sam said Lucifer’s name, Dean felt guilty. His intention was to keep Sam safe, not dredge up his Hell trauma.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t even think about how restraining you like that would affect you.”

“It’s fine, Dean. I’m fine”

“It isn’t though, Sam. I’m supposed to protect you, not hurt you further.”

“Dean. I’m fine. You calmed me down. You’re alive and safe from the hunt and I’m exhausted. Can we just pretend it didn’t happen and move on?”

Dean sighed. He didn’t want Sam to think it was ok, but his brother looked about ready to drop, so he let it go for now. He could continue berating himself for his stupidity in his head while Sam slept.

“Sure, Sam. Let’s get you to bed for the night.”

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam pulled away from Dean and laid down on the bed. Dean moved towards the bathroom, aiming to clean himself up, but Sam stopped him. “Oh, Dean?”

“Yeah Sam?

“Stop beating yourself up or I’m gonna crawl out of this bed and clock you.”

Dean couldn’t help the snort of laughter. “Alright Sammy. Just get some rest dude.”

Sam curled up on his side and was out before Dean even turned the shower on.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday3 #spn #hurtsamwinchester #sicksamwinchester

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

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Too Much to Take

Febuwhump Day 2: Mind Control @febuwhump

Fandom: Supernatural

Trigger Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mild descriptions of injuries

Tags: Whump, Hurt Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester takes care of Sam Winchester, Hallucifer (mentioned), Sam Winchester hates clowns, post Season 7 Episode 14: Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical Menagerie, emotional hurt/comfort

Dean glanced back over at his sleeping brother, glad to see he was finally getting some semblance of rest. They’d gone back to the motel, Sam took a ridiculously long shower to remove the glitter, and Dean cleaned out as much of the vile substance as possible out of his baby. He thought about forcing Sam to do it, but the kid seemed miserable enough. No need for Dean to make it any worse.

As soon as the glitter was as gone as possible, they’d gathered their gear and booked it out of Kansas. Sam took a long time to settle, obviously still keyed up from fighting his biggest fear. Now he was curled up against the window, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window. Dean caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over to Sam. Sam’s face was pinched and he was pressing his thumb into his palm. Dean sighed inwardly. His brother couldn’t seem to catch a break. Or any sleep.

Dean had been driving aimlessly up until that moment, the only goal being to get the hell out of Kansas. Seeing his brother constantly tormented made his heart ache. Not that he’d ever admit to such a girly notion, but it was true all the same. It was then that he decided they needed a well deserved break. He aimed the Impala towards the one place the brothers frequently talked about, but never seemed to make it to: the Grand Canyon.

They drove straight through the night. Sam continued to pretend to sleep, pressing his hand every so often. Dean pretended not to notice and pressed down the accelerator just a tiny bit harder. When they arrived in Cameron, Arizona, they booked a room at the Grand Canyon Motel and Dean dropped right into bed. The motel was a little nicer and busier than they normally chose, but it was close to the canyon and Dean was too tired to care much about it.

Despite the fact that Sam had been pretending to sleep and not actually sleeping, Sam didn’t follow Dean’s lead. Instead he left to grab coffee. As Dean slept, Sam researched more on Dick Roman. Not that he found any useful info, but Lucifer wouldn’t let him sleep much, so Sam didn’t even bother to try.

Dean woke in the early afternoon, Sam tapping away furiously at the keyboard. Coffee at the ready right in front of him. As Dean walked to the bathroom to shower he glanced at the trashcan already half full with empty coffee cups. He sighed, but kept his mouth shut. He knew there was nothing he could say to Sam that would do any good and he really didn’t want to start an argument.

When Dean was done with his shower they found the nearest diner for lunch. Dean scarfed down his double cheeseburger with extra onions as Sam picked at his grilled chicken salad. Dean tried to encourage his brother to eat, but Sam refused to eat more than a few bites.

“Are y’all done with your food?” The waitress asked as she walked up to the table. Sam jerked in surprise.

“Yes, Ma'am,” Dean said, scooting his plate towards her. Sam scooted over his plate without a word.

“You sure you’re done honey?” she asked Sam.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You should eat more if you’re planning on heading down to the Canyon. Gotta keep your strength up. Too many people have gone missing lately and all the recent sightings. Can’t be too careful.”

“Sightings of what?”

“Why the Mogollon monster of course.” She said, walking away with the dishes. “Be careful out there boys.” She called over her shoulder.

“So much for our vacation.” Dean sighed.

____________________________________________________________________________

“So this Mogollon monster. It’s not usually spotted in this area, but it isn’t too far of a stretch to say it could have made its way out here. It’s been known to act extremely violent and its scream sounds like a woman in distress. It’s essentially the Arizona version of Bigfoot. No lore on how to kill it, so we’ll have to take several weapons with us when we go after it.” Sam said as Dean walked into the room in his Fed suit. “What‘d you find?”

“There have been 7 missing persons cases in the park in the past 4 months. No patterns connecting them that I can see right away. They found traces of body dragging. They assumed it was a mountain lion. Attacks by mountain lions aren’t super common though, so it’s definitely unlikely that’s what’s actually happening. Sounds like this moglin creature is our most likely suspect.”

“Mogollon, and yeah, seems like it. Did you get any info on the last sightings of any of these people. It’s a big park. We need to narrow down where to search.”

“Only on two of them. One was with his group of friends. He went missing overnight from the campground on the South rim. There weren't any signs of brute force near his tent, so my guess is he went to take a piss and was snatched.”

“And the other?”

“She was on a solo trip, but the night before she officially went missing, she checked in with her mother, said she was going to be on the Roaring Springs Trail. Then, when she didn’t check in that night like she was supposed to, her mom reported her missing.”

“You said they found some drag marks, where were those?”

“Out near the Cliff Springs Trail.”

“Ok. Let me pull up a map. See where those spots are and see if we can’t find a likely spot to find this thing.”

___________________________________________________________________________

“Ok, since we’re hiking in, we gotta be smart about what we take with us. I’m glad we’re getting to see this damn thing, but I do not want to die in this canyon.” Dean snorted as they dug through the trunk.

“Yeah. A decent amount of water for sure. We each have our sidearms. A machete each. A couple different mags, one silver, one iron. What else should we take? There is absolutely no lore on ways to kill it.”

“I say we take the bronze dagger and flare guns too and obviously some salt and lighter fluid. Honestly, I don’t want to take much more than that. Worst case scenario none of what we have with us works and we regroup, come back later with different stuff.”

Sam sighs at Dean’s response. “I really don’t want to have to come back out here again. I just want to kill this thing and be done with it.”

“Me too, Sammy. Me too.”

With that, Dean closes the trunk and they head down the trail towards their monster of the week. They hike for close to 3 hours before they hear sounds of movement nearby. Simultaneously, the boys stop, straining to hear where the sound may be coming from. With a quick hand gesture, the boys split, Dean moving to the left and Sam to the right, guns raised and ready to shoot.

The hairs raise on the back of Dean’s neck, alerting his hunter sixth sense to something nearby. He glances at Sam, only to see a hairy beast at least a foot taller than Sam and twice as buff right behind his brother.

“Sam! Look out!”

Sam spins around, only for a massive arm to swing, sending Sam flying into a nearby rock. Sam slumps sideways upon impact, clearly unconscious.

“Hey! Ugly!”

As soon as the furry beast turns toward Dean, he send 2 bullets into the monster’s chest and 2 into his head. The monster drops and Dean can hardly believe it. Was it seriously that easy to drop the damn thing? WIthout dropping his firearm, Dean walks over to the beast. Its brown eyes are staring up, unseeing and there is no rise to its chest. Dean kicks it for good measure, but when there is no reaction from it he knows it’s dead.

Dean scrambles to Sam’s side and shakes his brother’s shoulder, but Sam doesn’t respond. Quickly he checks for a pulse and sighs in relief when he feels it bounding along. Dean feels the back of Sam’s head only to find a decent bump already forming. If he doesn’t have a concussion, he’ll have a wicked headache at least. Dean takes the opportunity of Sam’s unconsciousness to feel along his ribcage as well. Unfortunately at least one rib is broken on the left side and 2 on the right. Dean pats down the rest of Sam’s body, thankful to find no other apparent injuries.

Sam still hasn’t woken up by this point, so Dean presses his knuckles into Sam’s sternum. Sam groans in response and Dean lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Come on, Sammy” he says as he digs his knuckles in harder. Sam blinks his eyes open. Almost immediately, Sam’s eyes dart behind Dean’s right shoulder and winces. Dean glances behind him, but doesn’t see anything over his shoulder. When Dean looks back at Sam, there are tears in Sam’s eyes and looks seconds away from a breakdown.

“Sam?” he asks tentatively. He keeps his voice soothing and low as if speaking to a frightened child or animal.

“I can’t take this anymore, Dean.”

“What?”

“It’s too much. The clowns from earlier this week, and Bobby dying, and Lucifer is screaming his head off behind you. Now it hurts to breathe and we’re 3 hours from the car, I have a splitting headache and I just can’t. I can’t do it.” The dam broke, and tears spilled out of Sam’s eyes.

“Oh Sammy.” Dean literally feels his heart breaking as he listens to Sam give up. But he can’t let him. “Look, I know it’s been really shitty lately. Losing Bobby was a serious blow. And I know those clowns hit you real hard, but we’re going to figure out how to get Lucifer out of your head and it will get better. I promise you. Everything just feels worse right now cause of that head injury. Pretty sure you got a good concussion going and I’m sure your head hurts something fierce. We’ll get you back to the motel, wrap up those ribs and get on some real nice pain meds. You can rest for as long as you need. I won’t look for any hunts until you’re back in tip top shape ok?”

Sam looked at Dean hesitantly. Dean couldn’t blame him. Lucifer was only getting worse and they had no idea how to make it go away. Plus they were at a stalemate in the Leviathan issue with no leads on where to even look. And a 3 hour hike sounded daunting to even Dean right now, and he didn’t have 3 broken ribs and a concussion. But Sam nodded anyway.

Dean cupped his hand on the back of Sam’s neck, offering him strength. “I’m gonna salt and burn this bitch real quick and then we’ll get you out of here. Ok sammy?”

Dean waited until he saw Sam’s nodded answer before turning back to the monster. He pulled out the small canister of salt and sprinkled it liberally over the entire beast.

“Damn Sammy, I thought you were a giant, but you got nothing on this dude.” Dean heard a small huff of laughter and took that as a good sign as he poured the lighter fluid on top of the salt layer. He opened a pack of matches and stuck one. He tossed it on the monster and turned away without looking back for any confirmation that the monster was burning. Sam was visibly attempting to get himself under control. As Dean turned back towards him, he steeled his expression and let Dean help him to his feet.

“Okay little brother. Let’s get you out of here.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday2 #spn #Deanwinchestertakescareorsamwinchester

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tirstyspngirl · 3 years

Text

Dean Winchester Hates Witches

Febuwhump day1: Mind control

@febuwhump

TW: Canon-typical violence

Fandom: Supernatural

Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Whinchester

Tags: Mind control, Sam Winchester Whump, witches, Canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, whump

“Back away Dean.” Sam snarls “I won’t let you hurt her.”

“Come on, Sammy. You can fight this. Whatever she is doing to your mind, you need to fight it!”

Sam growls at Dean’s words, but doesn’t reply with any words of his own. Dean raises his trusty Taurus filled with Witch killing bullets, aiming for the Witch’s head, but Sam steps in front of her.

“Move, Sam!”

“No. I will not let you kill my queen.”

“She isn’t your Queen Sam,” Dean says with an eye roll. “She’s a witch and she has you under some kind of spell.”

Sam simply growls again and Dean’s getting tired of this. He side steps, re-aims his pistol at the witch only to see Sam in his line of sight again. Dean sighs, looks like he’s gonna have to do this the hard way he thinks. He lowers the gun before tucking it into his waistband and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, Sammy. I’m not gonna shoot her.”

Dean takes a few slow steps forward. Sam growls and looks suspicious, but doesn’t move. Just before Dean gets into striking range the witch speaks. “He’s coming to hurt me, Sam. Don’t let him.”

It’s at that moment that Sam springs forward launching himself at Dean. He swings a fist at Dean and Dean barely manages to dodge before counter striking. Sam ducks and tackles Dean, shoving his head into his stomach and launching them into the ground. Dean lands with a grunt, his gargantuan brother crushing him into the ground. Sam begins swinging towards Dean, but Dean brings up his forearms to block most of the damage to his head. Dean bucks his hips up throwing Sam’s balance off and he topples forward. Dean pulls Sam’s arm in at the elbow, buckling Sam on top of him as he flips his body over, now on top of Sam. It only takes Dean one solid blow to the side of Sam’s head to knock him out.

Dean wastes no time pulling out his sidearm to shoot the witch in the head. She crumples to the ground, not expecting Dean to be able to incapacitate his brother so quickly. Dean begins to pat his brother down, looking for the hex bag she undoubtedly planted on him to be able to control him. When he finds it, he lights it and throws it to the ground, wishing he had a blowtorch he could obliterate it with. As the hex bag finishes burning, Sam begins to stir.

“Hey Sammy. You back with me?”

“Dean?”

“There you are.”

“Jesus Dean, didya have to hit so hard?”

“I had to knock you out to kill the bitch.”

“Ugh, I’m gonna have a headache for the rest of the night.”

“Come on little brother. You can take some tylenol in the car.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but accepted the hand Dean offered, pulling him to his feet.

“Told you I could always kick your ass.” Dean snickered as they headed back toward the car.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever” Sam replied, hiding his smirk.

“You know what Sam?”

“What Dean?”

“I really hate witches.”

Sam laughs. “I know you do.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday1 #spn #sam winchester #sam whump #dean winchester #mind control #case fic

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