Note: This just sort of happened. Please tell me what you think. First time writing from Sam's POV. How'd I do?

Pain.

That's all I could feel.

Pain pumping through my body.

That was all I could focus on.

I was lying on the ground, I knew that much, dirt and tree roots against my back.

I couldn't remember how I ended up here though.

We had been hunting in the woods, I had heard a sound to the left, and just as I had turned to figure out what it was the pain had hit…and now I was on the ground.

There was a white hot agony flowing through my body, but it seemed to be originating from my right side.

I couldn't see what was wrong, lifting my head up hurt too much. So I slid my hand along the ground where it had fallen and stopped once I hit my right hip, feeling my shirt wet with a warm liquid.

My fingers brushed up against what seemed like a thin wooden stick…a thin wooden stick that was protruding from my body.

Desperate to put an end to the pain, I gripped on to the foreign object, but drew in a sharp inhale as a searing pang shot through me at the contact.

"Hey whoah, Sammy no!"

Calloused hands pulled my fingers away from the source.

"Leave it man. You could do a lot more damage pulling it out."

I momentarily relaxed at the sound of my older brother, until I realized what he said.

Leave it in? What the hell was Dean thinking? Did he have any idea what this felt like?

My attempt to voice my concerns didn't' work out well, the questions coming out as incoherent grumbling.

I stared up at Dean as he nodded distractedly, pulling the sides of my jacket away from the injury as he tried to get a clear view.

"Just let me take a look at you Sam."

I tried to breathe through the pain as I stared up at my older brother's face, knowing that the only hint I would get about my condition would be hidden in his reaction.

Dean's expression remained neutral, he no doubt knew I would be staring up at him gaging his reaction, but he couldn't hide the way his skin paled.

It was bad.

I was bad.

The ghost-like pallor of Dean's face was the only proof I needed to know that I was not okay.

Dean cleared his throat, his eyes trained on the injury as he carefully probed around the area. I couldn't stop the half-scream, half-gasp as my brother's fingers explored the wound.

"Shit sorry Sam." He cursed, instantly pulling back.

Dean glanced up, looking back over his shoulder.

That's when I noticed the hollering that seemed to be going on in the background.

I couldn't make out any exact words, but from what I could tell, Dad was pissed.

I tried to listen in, but the pain was too much.

"Dean." I moaned.

My older brother stared down at me, he must have seen the fear in my face, because he immediately started combing my hair off my forehead.

"You're alright kiddo. It's not even that bad. You're going to be just fine."

I latched on to his words and touch, because it was either I held on to those false promises or I let the pain take over.

"You're shaking." Dean observed quietly.

I hadn't noticed, but he was right, I was shaking and I couldn't seem to take a deep breath.

"Fuck." My brother swore under his breath as he threw another glance over his shoulder.

"Dad!" He called out loudly.

"Dad get over here!" He yelled again.

He sounded scared.

Which made me terrified, because nothing scared Dean.

He was the most fearless eighteen year-old on the planet.

"Dean." I choked out, reaching towards him, needing to know what was going on, why he hadn't done anything to stop the pain.

My older brother turned back to look at me, an urgency in his eyes, fading into a look I was more used to, the protective one.

"Right here little brother. You're going to be alright. Dad and I are going to patch you up, you'll be as good as new." He whispered, a hand on my forehead.

"Hurts." I whimpered, not caring in the least how pathetic I may sound, just needing Dean to fix everything the way he always did.

"I know kiddo." The guilt-ridden tone of my brother's voice had me instantly regretting my desperate behaviour.

I needed to be tough.

Tough like the soldier Dad wanted.

Tough like a hunter.

Touch like Dean.

"S'alright. I'm fine." I announced, trying to keep the quivering from my voice.

I wish I could get my body to stop shaking, but I can't, the pain and the cold wouldn't allow me to be still and calm like I wanted to be for Dean.

"Yeah you are." My brother said with a nod of his head, but I couldn't tell if it was me or himself he was trying to convince. Both I suppose.

I bit down on my tongue to stay quiet as a hard shiver went through me, making the agony in my side spike.

"How's he doing Dean?"

I startled at the deep gruff voice of my father, angling my head up so I could see him and then groaning in pain and letting my skull thump back against the dirt.

"Lie still Sammy."

Finally, an order I was happy to follow.

"The son-of-a-bitch got him Dad. I can't tell how deep."

I tried to pay attention to Dean's evaluation of my condition, but it was too much effort.

From what I could gather, it wasn't good.

There was an arrow in my side and he couldn't tell how deep it was or if it hit anything.

I heard the younger hunter ask the older one if they should pull the arrow out, and before I could voice my support for that particular plan of action, John dismissed it.

"No, we remove it and he could bleed out."

That sounded pretty bad, so I didn't bother arguing…I also didn't have enough energy to start a fight.

I was beginning to get lost in the fog, my vision clouded and hearing muddled, when the object protruding from my side shifted.

Searing pain shot through my entire body, from the tips of my fingers to my toes. I couldn't prevent the scream that tore from my throat, my head digging into the ground as my back arched and I instinctively tried to twist away.

"I told you to hold him down!"

"I'm trying."

The voices were distant, but I could feel two hands pinning my shoulders to the ground as my body contorted in agony.

"It's alright Sammy. It's over! It's over buddy! Stop moving. Please Sammy!"

The pleading voice of my older brother invaded the all-encompassing fire burning through my side and I cracked my eyes open.

Green orbs stared down at me, glowing in fear and concern, I locked on to them. I took in the strength offered by the two eyes I had spent my entire life looking into and physically forced myself to lie still, or as still as possible.

"That's it kiddo." Dean encouraged, easing off my shoulders, placing a hand up to slide my sweaty bangs off my face.

"I guess you didn't hear us when we warned you we were cutting off part of the arrow?" My brother commented with a sympathetic grimace, his fingers continuing to card through my hair.

Dean kept his eyes on mine, and somehow I think he knew that's what I needed. He knew that in order for me to relax and fight the pain, I needed the comfort provided by his gaze and his touch.

And I don't care how pathetic that is, because that independence and that need to prove myself were nowhere to be found at this moment in time.

My breathing was far from steady, and my body still trembled, but I was able to relax my tense muscles to a degree and remain relatively still, which was a colossal accomplishment considering the pain I was in.

"There you go buddy. Good job Sammy." Dean said as he stared down at me.

"We need to get him to a hospital Dean." I had almost forgotten my father was there until I heard that rough voice.

My brother's hand carded through my hair one last time before he pulled away from me and angled towards my dad. I searched along the ground, stopping when I felt the texture of jeans and latching on to my brother's pant-leg just above his knee.

Dean placed his hand over mine, squeezing it gently as he kneeled by my side, but his attention remained on the hunter as he awaited instructions.

There was a pause, during which I made a conscious effort not to reach over and rip the freakin arrow out of my side.

"I'll round up all the gear and run back to the car. I can meet you guys at the clearing about a quarter-mile South. Can you handle Sam?" John asked, his voice all business.

"Yeah Dad. I got him." Dean declared.

I heard movement and then my Dad's face came into view.

His face was schooled into the determined hunter expression it always seemed to be set in. I did notice that his eyes held a sort of worry or concern, it might have been the pain messing with my mind, because my dad didn't often display such blatant emotion, but I saw it all the same.

A large calloused hand rested against my cheek, the touch more than welcome as I looked up at my father.

"You're going to be alright son. You hear me? You're going to be just fine."

I managed a small nod, eager to believe the words, no matter how nonsensical they may be.

"Good boy." Dad said, giving me a gentle pat on the cheek.

It figure it would take getting shot with an arrow to get some kind of praise around here, I thought distractedly as the older hunter pulled away and moved out of my line of sight.

I heard the rapid thud of feet and assumed it was dad grabbing the gear and making the run back to the car.

Dean huddled over me, placing a gentle hand back on my forehead.

"I'm going to have to carry you Sam…I'll try my best to be careful…but it's going to hurt little brother." Dean admitted, his tone sympathetic as his eyes met mine.

"S'okay." I ground out, my legs twitching in discomfort as my wounded side continued to burn.

"Alright, on three." Dean informed me, counting out the numbers before lifting me from the ground.

I gasped in pain as I my brother climbed to his feet with me in his grip. He whispered a mantra of apologies as he pulled me tighter against his chest, the arm under my knees and the one wrapped around my back clenching as Dean tugged me into him.

"I got you Sammy. You're going to be fine."

The first statement I was sure of, I had always known that. The second was one of those hopefully optimistic promises my older brother tended to make in times of trouble.

I breathed through the pain, willing my body to get a hold of itself as Dean began to trek to the clearing.

I could tell that my older brother was doing everything in his power to not jumble me around too much, trying his hardest to walk smooth but quick. However, I was a fourteen year old teenager, and though I was often informed how much of a stick I was, that didn't mean my long limbs were easy to carry. Dean couldn't help jostling me about, and I couldn't help but respond when the pain in my side flared at the movement.

I bit back a sob as I felt tears trailing down my face.

"Almost there Sammy." Dean's soft voice penetrated the haze in my mind and I found myself pressing against him. My head leaned forward and rested on his collarbone, while my left hand travelled up his chest, not stopping until it brushed against the amulet. I immediately hooked my fingers around the small charm, gripping it tight.

I felt Dean's eyes on me, and I looked up, meeting the green gaze immediately.

I'd seen that look so many times in my life, more times than I could count.

Love.

It was so strong, nearly tangible, as my brother stared down at me.

I tried to smile up in return, tried to show him the same level of emotion with just one look, but I knew that all I displayed was a grimace as the pain made itself known.

Just like that Dean's face became lined with worry and fear as he picked up the pace.

"It's going to be okay Sammy." He vowed.

I nodded, my hair sliding against his shoulder as I moved my right hand up to grab onto my brother's jacket, trying to escape the agony flowing from my side.

In a blur of pain and constant apologies from Dean, we arrived at the clearing.

I didn't register where we were until I heard my father's voice and felt his large hand sliding underneath my hair and squeezing the back of my neck.

"He's shaking." Dad observed gruffly.

"I know." Dean muttered.

"Could be the pain, but it might be shock." The older hunter said, concern lacing his tone.

"Or blood-loss,"

At the quiet addition made by my brother, I felt my father's other hand resting against the injury, my whole body shuddering at the pain caused by the contact.

"Guuh." I garbled, curling up and pressing hard against my brother, wishing I could disappear and hide from the fire in my side.

The hand on the back of my neck squeezed gently in apology as the two voices above me proceeded to mumble on, talking about me as though I wasn't even there…and I have to say, for once, I really didn't give a shit. I just allowed them to drone on as I closed my eyes and rested against my brother.

A short while later I felt myself being shifted, moaning in displeasure.

"Sorry kiddo." This time the soft apology came from my father.

I wanted to assure him that everything was fine, that I was okay, that I was tough enough to handle this, but I couldn't seem to get my mouth to form the words.

I felt the familiar material beneath me as I was stretched across the Impala's backseat.

I instantly curled around the source of my pain, my hand immediately moving to clutch at the wound, until it was swatted away.

"Don't touch it Sammy. I know it hurts, but don't touch it." The order was soft and sympathetic.

Dean.

My head was lifted and set on a jean-clad thigh as fingers combed through my hair.

I heard doors slam and then the rumble of the engine.

"Hold him steady Dean."

I felt a firm hand slide under my arm and around my chest in response to the instruction.

"I got him." Dean stated. "I got you Sammy." The second one was a whisper meant just for me.

"Open your eyes Sammy."

I may not be one for orders, and challenging/disobeying my father had become a thing as of lately, but Dean was different. Dean didn't order or demand things of me regularly, and whenever he did it wasn't in that harsh military tone. Dean's orders were always out of necessity, but his voice was always worried and desperate. It was really more of a plea than an order.

So, as per usual, I listened.

My eyes cracked open slowly, my blurry gaze landing on my brother's face.

A smile spread across Dean's expression, but his eyes were still crinkled in fear.

"That's it buddy."

My smile was forced as a violent shiver ran through my body.

Dean's own smile faded as I moaned in pain.

His hand was shaking as it ran through my hair, offering me the only comfort he could think to provide.

I squinted up at him, worried that he'd been hurt and I missed it somehow.

"Dean. You okay?" I whispered, frustrated that I was unable to force any real volume into my question.

A confused look crossed my brother's face.

"Yeah Sammy, I'm fine." He assured me.

"Good." I nodded my head, because that was good. Because Dean needed to be alright. Dean was my rock and if he wasn't okay, I don't know what I would do.

My body shuddered as my eyes began to fall closed.

"No. Hey! Sammy. No. Come on man. Keep 'em open."

I struggled to obey that time, but slowly my lids fluttered open and I tried my hardest to concentrate and keep them that way.

"Good boy, just keep your eyes on me little brother." Dean said, a gentle hand on my forehead as his other palm pressed against my chest, keeping me still as the Impala sped down the road.

I did as instructed, though it wasn't long before the pain became too much. I felt week and cold, wanting nothing more than to give in to the darkness and allow it to take the agony away.

I fought that feeling as hard as I could.

I fought it for Dean.

But when the Impala hit a bump in the road and caused my body to jump, it all became too much.

I cried out, a choked scream tearing from my throat as I felt the sawed-off arrow shoot deeper into my side.

"Damnit Dean! I said hold him!"

"I am! Sammy, it's alright. You're okay!"

But I wasn't, and I knew it.

I felt myself fading as a white hot burning sensation ravaged my body.

Inhuman noises were coming out of my mouth as I failed to fight off the pain.

"Open your eyes buddy. Talk to me Sammy!"

I didn't have the strength to listen this time, tears leaking from my eyes as I arched and contorted in desperation.

"Dad Hurry!"

I heard Dean, recognized the blatant terror in his voice, and knew I had to do something to make it okay for him, and I had to do it fast.

I reached up, fingers searching until they locked onto the amulet.

I forced my eyelids open and stared up at the watery, terrified gaze looking down at me.

"So'okay Dee…N-not your f-fault."

It took all the energy I processed to stutter the short sentence out in nothing more than a soft whisper.

My vision began to cloud, the last image I saw was of Dean imploring me to stay awake as a single tear slid down his face.

The voices muddled and faded away as quickly as my eyes fell closed and the darkness sucked me in.

A consistent beeping was the first thing I heard.

Next two low-toned voices penetrated into the fog of my mind.

"What the hell kind of farmer goes out hunting in the middle of the night?"

"I don't know Dean. The guy thought he was going after a rabid wolf that kept killing his cattle. He didn't know what kind of creature it really was."

"Why the fuck was he using a cross-bow?" The question was hushed, but the tone remained lethal.

A long tired sigh was made by the other person in the room, I would recognize that sigh anywhere. It was the kind of exasperated noise my father made whenever I started an argument.

"We were lucky that's what he was using. If he had had a shotgun Sam would be a lot worse off."

"How did that son-of-a-bitch mistake Sammy for a fucking wolf?"

That angry and furiously protective tone could only belong to my older brother.

"Must have been because of all my hair." I rasped out, cracking my eyes open.

Dad was seated in a chair to my right, coffee cup in his hand as he leaned back. Dean was standing to my left, I had heard him pacing around as he spoke.

Both sets of eyes were quickly directed at me, Dean's wide in an almost comical surprise as John's squinted as his face took on a small smile.

"How you feeling Sam?" My father asked, coming to stand beside me.

I took a moment to consider the question.

"Alright I guess. My side sort of throbs, but it's alright." I explained groggily, trying to work my tongue around my dried out mouth.

"That's good son. You're going to be just fine. Should be out of here by tomorrow. I'm going to go tell the doc you're awake." Dad informed me, squeezing my shoulder gently before making his way out of the room.

I turned my tired gaze towards my older brother, watching as he fiddled with the hospital blanket.

"Dean?"

He brought his head up, but his eyes stopping before they could reach mine.

"What's wrong?" I croaked out.

My brother moved over to the small table at the side, grabbing a cup and bringing it over to me.

"Here, take a drink."

I leaned forward immediately, eager to rid of the cottony feeling and bad taste. I took the straw into my mouth and sipped, glad Dean seemed content to hold the cup, because I was feeling weak and exhausted.

After a moment I let the straw fall from my mouth and leaned back against the pillow.

"Thanks." I sighed.

Dean nodded, still refusing to meet my stare, as he returned the cup to its place and sat heavily into the chair pulled up beside my bed.

I slid my hand out from beneath the blanket, reached over, and grabbed hold of Dean's fingers.

That finally granted me some eye-contact.

"What's the matter?" I asked, my voice quiet but insistent.

"You got in arrow lodged in your side. Did some muscle damage, but nothing that can't be fixed. You lost a lot of blood, but you're being topped up." Dean recited, nodding towards the blood bag hanging from my IV pole.

"Okay, but I meant what's the matter with you?" I said.

"Dude I'm fine. You're the one who got a fucking arrow in your side."

"You're lying." I stated simply.

"Oh please, you can't tell when I'm lying." Dean dismissed.

"I can and you are." I declared, widening my eyes to keep them from drooping.

Dean's irritated expression faded to one of sympathy.

"Why don't you get some rest little brother?" He said. His voice full of compassion.

Dean always took care of me.

And even though I couldn't often return the favour, whenever I could I didn't pass up the chance.

Dean was hurting, even though he wouldn't admit it.

And that meant it was time for me to take care of him…emotionally at least.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." I insisted stubbornly, because my brother knew me and he knew that I could be stubborn as hell.

Dean's mouth twitched as he looked away, staring up at the corner of the room for a moment before raking his hand through his short hair.

"Fuck Sammy…it's just…shit man I don't know…I…I almost lost you."

Dean's eyes met mine and I was taken aback by the moisture building in them and the way his voice cracked at the end.

Sometimes I forget how much my brother loves me.

How he has always protects me and looks out for me.

How he raised me.

Sometimes I forget that I am as important to Dean as he is to me.

"I'm sorry Dean." I say softly, because I don't know how else to respond.

"It's not your fault." He states clearly.

"And it's not yours."

Dean seems reluctant to agree, but eventually he gives a shaky nod in reply and discreetly wipes at his eyes.

"Just don't do it again, or I'll pound you." Dean threatened with a smirk.

"No you won't." I smiled, my eyes beginning to droop again.

"Cause you love me." I continue in a mocking sing-song tone, my eyes falling as I grinned at my brother's snort.

"Yeah whatever man. Just shut your eyes already. Pain meds don't care how stubborn you are." He said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Jerk." I whispered, allowing exhaustion to take over.

"Bitch." Dean said, his finger grazing over my forehead, sliding my bangs off my face.

I smiled wider, my hand squeezing my brothers as I felt my body to relax.

As I allowed the exhaustion to take over and began to drift into sleep, I could make out Dean's faint voice.

"Don't you dare leave me little brother. I can't lose you Sammy. Not like that. Not now. Not ever."

Dean always protects me.

He always takes care of me.

He always tries to keep me safe and happy.

Even though I don't deserve it.

Even though I'm not worthy of that kind of love.

And I don't know how I'll ever pay him back.

I can try not to let him down.

I can try to keep him safe.

I can try to do the right thing, to make him proud.

But is that enough?

Will I ever be enough?

I vow to do my best, to be the best little brother I can, the best person I can be.

And as I fall into sleep I think that maybe one day I will be deserving of my older brother and all he has done for me.

Note: Please comment/review! I need justification for staying up this late. Thanks for reading! - Sam