Sam hissed as he entered the shower. The warm water would normally soothe his aching body after a hunt, but then again under normal circumstances his skin wasn't raw and covered in large pus-filled or even blood-filled blisters.

It was today, unfortunately. God, he found himself hating witches more and more lately.

The stream from the shower head hit his sore skin and the pain was like a constant drumming, highly unpleasant and painful with the way it absolutely embraced him. He ran his hands through his hair, cleaning himself slowly, careful not to cause himself too much pain in the process.

"You done out there yet?" Dean knocked on the bathroom door at the same time Sam turned off the water and got out of the shower. "Yeah, just give me a minute more, Dean," he answered and towelled himself with a low groan from the contact. More than once he accidentally broke the swollen and inflamed skin, causing warm shots of pain and wet spots of pus, blood and lymphatic mixed together to a gross semi-transparent colour over his skin.

"Oh god, you look awful bro," Dean said and pulled a smug grin (probably because he was really glad it wasn't him who looked like that) to which Sam just grimaced. "You're such a sympathetic guy, you know that, right?"

"I'm a big brother, we don't do sympathy." Dean replied and went through the open door to the bathroom while Sam delicately sat down on one bed, cursing himself for not having a pair of silk boxers on. At least he knew they had some lotion somewhere, which he now went on a search for.

"Don't wanna go in there for the next half hour," Dean grinned as he exited the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind himself. Sam was sitting on one bed, smearing lotion onto the front of his thighs in small circles, his face strained with the pain from the contact to his blistering skin.

It looked hella painful, to be honest. "Want a beer?" Dean was already on the way over with a couple of newly bought bottles. Sam nodded and groaned when a particularly large blister broke, orangey fluid emerging from it. Ew, that was so gross. "Man, you're such a pussy sometimes," Sam grinned through strained lips when he saw Dean's expression. "I'm not the pussy, you are," Dean replied in time for one of Sam's rather pathetic pain induced whimpers.

The beer however agreed with Sam, somehow making the pain a little less unbearable now that he had something cool to let slide down his throat and at the same time a cool bottle to press against his skin, every once in a while. He sighed and thanked Dean.

"Look, don't mention it," the elder brother smiled, feeling sorry that it was Sam rather than him who'd taken the witch's spell. After all it had been Dean who'd made her this angry. If he could do something for Sammy right now, like getting him a cold beer, then he'd darn well do it.

At least that was what he thought until Sam, a bit bashfully, asked "Look, Dean - uh, do you think you could help me out with this?" while he held up the bottle of lotion they always kept around but normally didn't have use of.

Smile turned sour and Dean found himself answering "No can do,"

"Aw come on, man, I can't reach my back myself!"

"I'll do many things for you, Sam, even sell my soul to hell, but I'm not lotioning you up!"

Well, it was true that when he said it like that it sounded rather disgusting and Sam flinched a bit. But the flinch itself was uncomfortable enough to his skin that he decided he really needed Dean to help him with his back. So he decided to pull the guilt card, whining about the pain and about how Dean should've been the target of that witch, since it was him who'd slept with her before they found out it was her and hadn't called her the next day.

And it worked. Dean was sitting next to Sam on the bed, Sam lying on his stomach on a large amount of towels, the muscles of his back stretched out.

His skin was different shades of unhealthy colours and Dean had to keep reminding himself that this condition would be over in a few days according to Bobby. Because this was definitely not something he looked forward to doing again.

He popped open the lotion bottle and let a generous amount of cool white liquid fall into his hand. God, this was going to be so disgusting, every blister or bladder looked like it was about to burst.

Dean closed his eyes and dug in, spreading the lotion quickly on his brother's back with large clumsy strokes. "Oh god Sammy, please don't ever get hexed like this again," he groaned, opening his eyes just a bit to figure out how much he'd put on and where he still missed a spot.

"Oh, don't assume I'm enjoying it," Sam replied with a content sigh drawn from the coolness spreading on his back as Dean started drawing small cautious circles on his back to spread the lotion better.

The two of them kept their positions for what felt like eternity, Dean unconsciously leaning into the gentle massage he was giving Sam. The way his hands slid over the blisters without bursting them, the way he could feel every muscle underneath and the knots from hard work, it was all oddly hypnotising, and he felt himself grow more and more relaxed.

"That feel good, Sammy?" he asked after a particularly content sigh as he ran his hands over Sam's shoulders, but there was no reply. "Sam?"

Sometime during the lotion session Sam must've fallen asleep and Dean couldn't really blame him. So with a smile he got up from Sam's bed and went over to his own.

"Totally not assuming you're enjoying it," he said before going to sleep.