Heya, I'm so excited for this one! I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1

Sam sprinted down the corridor and into the room down the far end, it was the only room they hadn't checked and Sam knew that if Dean wasn't in there, he and Bobby would be back to square one. And he couldn't let that happen. Dean had to be in that room, he just had to be.

They had exorcised five demons, kicked down god knows how many doors and had checked countless rooms for his older brother. And it all came down to this one.

Bobby was a few rooms behind caring for the only survivor of the previous exorcisms, a young woman, leaving Sam the responsibility of finding his brother.

Sam only allowed himself three seconds in which he could catch his breath before he kicked down the last door, hoping and praying to every God out there that Dean was ok, and not too badly hurt.

But it soon became clear that his brother was anything but alright. He was bound to a chair with four lengths of rope, slumped forward and covered in blood. So much blood.

"Oh God, Dean! Dean, hey, Dean, it's me, I've got ya." Sam hurried forward, trying not to gag from the smell of blood, sweat and … well, Sam didn't want to think about anything else. When he was closer, he began to approach more carefully, trying not to startle Dean, who was visibly shaking and withdrawing further into the chair, straining against his ropes to get away from danger.

"Hey Dean, I've got you now, you're safe. C'mon, shhh, it's me Sammy, your little brother, you're ok, everything is alright now. Let's get you home and patch you up, I have pie in the car. We killed them Dean, drop kicked their demon asses, they can't hurt you any more." Dean didn't respond to this news, keeping his head bowed and continuing to tremble with a mixture of pain, fear and cold. Sam just assumed that he was too frightened to talk. The truth never occurred to him, not for a second.

Sam sighed and tried again. "C'mon, look at me Dean, it's me, see? Just give me a flash of those pearly whites man, please. You're safe, I'm here to get you; Bobby is just outside. He helped me get in here, he's keeping guard." Yet again Dean didn't answer, so Sam gave up and took a few steps closer to his brother. He felt tears burn in his eyes when Dean tried to pull away from him.

And then he took a few steps back, feeling bile rise up in his throat. He knew he should stay strong, by his brother's side, but he couldn't. Before Sam knew it his lanky legs had carried him into the corner of the room, where he vomited up what felt like everything he had consumed in the past week.

Now he knew why Dean wouldn't look up at him. Why he didn't see that Sam was there for him and why he cowered away from his brother in fear. One of his brother's eyes was missing, his right eye had completely disappeared, and all that was left was a bloody socket. And the other…the other was swollen shut and black with bruising.

Oh God Dean, how could a demon do that to you? How could anything do that to you?

Sam felt tears streaming down his face, his brother's beautiful emerald green eyes, the eyes that had always looked out for him, the eyes that could show so much love and tenderness, or pure hatred. Sam felt sick to his bones, his entire being consumed by grief. But he had to stay strong, all he could do was hope that his brother's other eye was relatively undamaged. The alternative was, well, unthinkable. Dean couldn't be blind, it would destroy him.

Gathering himself, Sam carefully knelt down by his side again. "Sorry Dean, I just…don't worry though, it isn't too bad. We can fix this like we always do, hey. Nothing has beaten us yet. Down but not out, yeah?" Dean gave an almost imperceptible nod, which Sam took as permission to come closer and untie Dean. He started with the ropes around Dean's bare ankles, which didn't seem to be as bloodied as other parts of his flesh. He was as gentle as his huge hands would allow, now having noticed the bruising and rope burns on his brother's pale flesh. When Sam did accidentally knock one of the cuts, Dean didn't so much as whimper. He was catatonic.

Bracing himself, Sam turned to Dean's hands, fighting back a shout of shock and disgust as he did so. Each one of his brother's fingers were clearly broken, all ten, and as if things couldn't get worse, Dean's perfectly manicured fingernails were missing. Dean had always taken such pride in his nails, stating that 'chicks dig clean nails, it's a way of saying hey, look at me, I am domesticated and sexy. You should try it some time Sammy, it might help ya get laid!' Sam had always laughed this off, but now he could see what Dean meant. His nails had been perfect, and now they were gone. But at least they would grow back. 'Always look on the bright side Sammy.' Once again Dean's wise words rang through his head.

Sam was even more careful now, pausing every time his brother breathed in too sharply or strained in the chair. It was taking too long, all Sam wanted to do was get his brother out of this dump as soon as possible, but he couldn't bear to cause Dean any more pain. He had to compromise.

What felt like years later, Dean was fully untied, the ropes around his chest, hands, ankles and neck were gone and he was free to move. But he didn't. Either Dean didn't realise he could move, he couldn't, or he wouldn't.

Sam once again tried to talk to his brother, begging and pleading for him to move, and eventually barking out orders like his dad did, hoping that would cause a reaction. But it didn't.

Dean didn't seem to hear him, or if he did he did not register the sign of hearing his brother's voice. If anything his brow seemed to furrow further, his sharp cheekbones seemingly jutting out more, as if they were trying to pierce through his sallow, milk white skin. In a flicker of light, it seemed to Sam that Dean's freckles were specs of blood, where the bone had managed to protrude, only to sink back beneath his brother's flesh.

What a mess.

Sam couldn't believe he had let this happen. He couldn't believe that he had left Dean here long enough for him to get in this state. Four months.

It had been four months since everything went to hell. Four months since Dean had thrown himself in front of his baby brother to protect him. Four months since Sam's older brother had disappeared, seemingly off the face of the Earth.

It had taken four months of sleepless nights, thousands of tears, hundreds of cans of beer, tens of phone calls to every hunter Sam knew, and one night in which he and Bobby had raided the warehouse and found Dean.

But they were 3 months and 29 days too late.

Dean had been broken, but at this point in time, Sam could not comprehend how damaged his brother was.

Because of him.

Because of his stupid mistake.

Because he was not being careful.

Because he had gotten into a position that had forced Dean to jump in front of his little brother and save his life.

And it was clear that Dean had paid the price for Sam's carelessness.

Realising that Dean was not going to move of his own accord, Sam very carefully wrapped an arm around his back, grimacing when he felt warm liquid on his arm. Even Dean's back had not escaped the torture; Sam would have hazarded a guess that they were whip marks, but he didn't stop to look. Dean needed to get out of here.

With the utmost care, Sam cautiously lifted his brother to his feet, supporting him around the waist and helping Dean take a few, shaky steps towards the door. For a few selfish moments Sam wished that Dean would actually take some of his weight whilst walking, but when Dean's legs buckled from weeks of misuse Sam realised just how strong Dean was trying to be. He had supported quite a bit of his weight, which Sam now noted had dropped worryingly low. Sam could feel his ribs and spine and resolved that he would feed his brother every single slice of pie and burger that he could find.

Sam lifted Dean up and hoisted him over his left shoulder, trying not to knock Dean's face or hands as he headed out of the door and found Bobby, who shook his head solemnly. The girl didn't make it.

Then Bobby saw Dean's blood covered back and swore.

"Balls, what the hell?" Sam shook his head a little. He didn't want to panic Dean or put him under any more stress.

"Right, let's go." Sam readjusted Dean's position and went back the way he came, listening to Bobby's gruff voice muttering reassurances to Dean.

"You're gonna be alright, idjit. Just stay strong for me." Dean remained silent, eventually passing out from the pain of Sam's movements jarring his hands, face and back.

"Bobby, what are we going to do?"

""I dunno kid, we cant care of this ourselves, he has to go to hospital."

"Dean hates hospitals!"

"Dean doesn't have any say in the matter, there is no way we can fix his hands, or back in that state." Then Sam realised. Bobby hadn't noticed Dean's face.

"Uh, Bobby, that's the least of our worries. He's missing an eye."

"What?"

"His eye, its gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone."

"Balls." They elapsed into silence. Neither hunter knew what to say, or do.

This sort of thing didn't exactly come in a hunter's diary, or some ancient book written by an extinct tribe. For once, they had no leads.

Sam cautiously laid Dean in the back of the Impala, on his stomach, and got into the drivers seat, exceeding the speed limit by 20 miles per hour and jumping five red lights. But he didn't care, he had made it to the hospital within half an hour and Dean was now being wheeled through the hospital doors on a gurney, with Sam and Bobby hurrying along behind him.

TBC

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