Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW – I'm just borrowing the boys for a playdate. I'll put them back, I swear…

Genre: Hurt/Comfort & Horror

Rated: T+

Timeline: No set timeline, slot it in anywhere before Bobby's death – possibly S7

Features Hurt/Limp/Traumatised Sam, Protective/Worried/Scared Dean and Gruff/Loveable Bobby.

No Rest for the Wicked

CHAPTER TWO

HOTEL ALEX JOHNSON

Rapid City, South Dakota

Day Two, Midnight

Sam was pretty sure he should be dead.

Laying on the pavement, he stared up in disbelief at the window he had just flown through and wondered how the hell he was still breathing.

It certainly hurt like he had just fallen eight stories.

Grunting, he tried to sit – but fire tore down his left side and a ragged scream clawed its way from his throat.

Okay, so hurt was a vast understatement. If he wasn't dead, he should at least be unconscious from the blazing agony that was making itself known after the shock of the fall…but his brain just refused to shut down.

'SAM!'

His brother's frantic voice cut through the pain and he found himself focussing on the sound of hurried footsteps, knowing that they would bring safety and comfort.

Calloused palms framed his jaw, an errant thumb scraping his cheek and his lids fluttered apart, eyes meeting the intense green of his brothers.

'D-De…' he managed weakly, noting the terrified furrow of the elder's brow. It meant that, while he wasn't dead – things were still bad.

'Jesus Christ kiddo, bitch sure did a number on you,' he commented, voice trembling as he brushed the hair from his forehead with careful fingers.

'I-I flew…' Sam replied stupidly, not quite sure where that little gem came from.

Dean snorted, although there was no humour behind it. His kid brother was a mess.

'Yeah, nice trick there Evel Knievel – would've been so much cooler if you'd landed on your feet.'

'H-hurts…'

'Yeah, looks like. Think you can stand for me, buddy?' He asked doubtfully, wondering if he should just call an ambulance.

'I can t-try,' Sam stammered, just as uncertain. 'Just g-give me five, so I can figure out what's working,'

Dean hesitated, but gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder carefully. 'Sure thing Sammy, lemme know when ya ready.'

Dean's voice was soft and gentle, the kind of tone reserved for when things were really bad. Sam swallowed the urge to throw up as he began the assessment.

He gave his toes an experimental wiggle. Check. Not paralysed then.

Right leg? He shifted it – a mild twinge in the muscle, so check that.

It was when he got to his left leg, that he completely forgot what he was doing. He had barely tensed his muscles when agony speared his calf, sending his vision white. Blood spurted from an unseen wound, seeping into his jeans and he threw up weakly, bile resting in the back of his throat as he gagged.

'Whoa, whoa. Easy tiger. Self-assessment over, I'm getting you outta here.' Dean said firmly, turning his brother's head to clear his airway.

Crouching behind the younger man, Dean hooked his arms under Sam's and dragged him upright, the subsequent scream of pain entering his heart like a thousand knives.

'I gotcha Sammy, you can pass out anytime now.'

The kid threw up again, splattering his shirt with bile. 'C-can't. Won't l-let me sleep.' He managed breathlessly.

'Sonuva…you see him?' Dean grunted, taking all of Sam's weight as they hobbled to the car.

'D-don't see him. Doesn't mean...he's not hanging around.'

Dean swore. The kid was in agony – he couldn't sleep and whatever crap that was knocking around his ginormous brain was preventing him from passing out.

Forget that, as much as Dean was thankful the kid was breathing, the fall should have killed him.

'Alright, front or back?' He asked as the approached the car, juggling younger brother and keys.

'F-front,' was the strained reply.

Still holding his brother upright, Dean unlocked the car and pulled the door open, easing Sam's lanky frame into the seat gently.

He had one of two options. Go back to the motel and try to patch his sleep deprived brother up, sans super-strength painkillers, or risk Sam bleeding out during the four and a half hour trip back to Bobby's.

It was a lose-lose situation and Dean suddenly had no idea how to function. Hesitating for a second, he pulled out his phone and dialled Bobby.

'What' did you two idjits do now,' was Bobby's greeting.

'Sam's hurt bad, and I need help patching him up.' Dean replied shakily, watching his brother grow paler as he started the car.

'Balls. What in the hell happened?' The senior hunter asked.

'Psycho ghost-bitch sent Sammy flyin' out an eight story window is what happened.'

There was silence, then; 'He survived?'

'Oh yeah, but it ain't pretty. Kid hasn't slept in over 24 hours and the hell-o-vision he's had playing since Cas broke the wall is stopping him from passin' out.'

'Aww damnit. You get your scrawny asses back here, pronto – I'll call around, get some of the good stuff. We'll get him right boy, don't worry. He'll be sleeping like a baby in no time.'

Tossing his phone over his shoulder, he pressed his foot on the gas and wondered how much time he could shave off the trip without alerting the police.

As he tore out onto the main street, he realised he didn't care and drove like a bat out of hell toward Sioux Falls.

As it turned out, Dean managed to get back to Bobby's just three hours later. Sam's condition was worsening and his hands ached from gripping the wheel so tightly at the sound of his pained gasps. He'd thrown up a couple of times, but he was so delirious from pain that Dean didn't bother admonishing him.

Fuck the upholstery.

He stopped the car in a spray of dirt and pebbles as close the front porch as he could and left the engine running as he rushed to the passenger side to retrieve his brother.

'BOBBY!' He hollered, opening the door and gripping a quaking Sam tightly.

'D-De…fuck,' the younger hunter managed before throwing up again.

'Easy kiddo, I gotcha. BOBBY!'

'I'm here boy, don't get your panties in a knot...' his voice softened as he took a good look at Sam in the pale porch light.

Blood coated the left side of his face and his hips didn't look 100% right either. God knows what else was hiding beneath his clothes.

'You gonna stand there and stare or ya gonna help?' Dean snapped, dragging his brother slowly from the seat. Sam screamed again and Dean would've dropped him if not for Bobby.

'Be careful there, looks like his hip is dislocated.'

The elder brother swallowed passed the lump in his throat as the scream became hoarse and Sam's head fell forward onto his chest.

For a moment, Dean thought they had caught a break and Sam had finally passed out – but at second glance, he could see his brother blinking rapidly, deep pain lines marring his frown.

'Ready Sammy? Bobby and I are gonna lift you up and get ya heavy ass inside.'

Sam nodded weakly, allowing the pair to drape his arms around their shoulders as they stood either side of him. He felt two different hands reach beneath him, resting on the underside of his knees and he took a deep breath, preparing for the pain.

'On my count,' Bobby began gruffly. 'One…Two…Three!'

As they lifted him, Sam felt his consciousness splinter. Agony engulfed his body until it was all he was aware of. Memories flashed before his eyes of the unbelievable torture he had endured at Lucifer's hand and screw passing out – he wanted to die.

His throat was burning like it was on fire and distantly, he realised he must have been screaming again.

It was continuous, raspy and by the time the elder hunter's got Sam settled on the disinfected kitchen table, Dean's face was wet with tears.

'Dammit,' he growled, swiping them away. Now wasn't the time to turn into a girl. He took a second to look around the kitchen, realising he had never seen it cleaner or more organised in the whole time he knew Bobby Singer. The benches were scrubbed and lined with assorted medical paraphernalia, and the twin sinks where filled with steaming water for cleaning wounds. If Dean wasn't so frantic, he'd probably be impressed.

Sam was still writhing on the table, sweat slicking his long bangs and Dean automatically reached for his hand to offer comfort. 'It's gonna be alright Sammy,' he soothed, meeting Sam's pain-filled gaze with a shaky smile. 'We're gonna get you some good drugs, then we'll patch you up – good as new.'

The kid swallowed convulsively and squeezed his eyes shut. 'D-Dea…please…please…make it stop.' He begged weakly, tears sliding down his cheek to mingle with sweat.

Bobby appeared by his side, clutching a syringe and an alcohol swab, ready to administer the morphine – when Dean took it from him.

Once the elder brother found a viable vein, he gently swabbed the fleshy area on the inside of his elbow and slipped the needle into his flesh.

Sam held his breath, watching Dean with wide eyes as he eased the plunger down.

'Give it a sec, buddy,' He murmured gently, his free hand carding through his brother's damp hair.

The kid exhaled slowly, the lines of pain smoothing away into nothing as a lazy smile crossed Sam's lips.

Well, thank God for small mercies…

''S betterrr,' Sam slurred as his muscles relaxed and Dean sighed in relief. The easy part was over though, now it was time to start the party.

Shoving his hands into a pair of latex gloves, Dean accepted the steaming wash-cloth from Bobby and began to clean the blood from his sibling's face. He already knew the kid was concussed, but seeing his unequally dilated pupils in the light, Dean forced himself not to panic. More so when he discovered the white of bone, peeking through the five-inch gash on his temple.

'Fuck,' Dean hissed, pressing the cloth to the wound as blood welled to the surface. It would have to be sutured before anything else happened.

As though Bobby read his mind, he was handed a cloth that smelled strongly of peroxide and a suture kit.

While he busied himself with the task, the older man got to work with a pair of scissors, cutting away clothes that Dean probably would've burned anyway, covered in his brother's blood as it was.

The stitch up barely took five minutes, and Sam didn't even flinch. He just continued to stare at his big brother, finding comfort and safety in the face that he knew so well. Even while floating in his painless delirium, he could read his brother's expression like a book…and through the frown of concentration, he could see the terror in his bright green eyes.

'It's all the same, only the names will change. Every day it seems we're wasting away,' Sam sang softly and Dean faltered, meeting his gaze.

'Another place where the faces are so cold. I'd drive all night just to get you back home,' Dean continued, and the younger man smiled at the slight change in the lyrics.

It was all eldest do not to burst into tears. Even in his state, the kid was trying to comfort him – and it cut him to the core.

'I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride, I'm wanted dead or alive. Wanted dead or alive…' they sang together.

A gruff 'balls,' pulled the brothers from the rare moment of softness and Dean peered down Sam's near naked body. He turned his head away and threw up on the floor.

Oh boy…Dean thought grimly as he wiped his mouth and met Bobby's downright terrified gaze. Sam's left side sustained the worst of the injuries and he had never seen his brother in such a state. No wonder the kid screamed the place down. His torso was a mass of black and dark purple – bruising so dark that there was no doubt Dean's mind that his brother had sustained internal injuries. There was blood too, from multiple lacerations down his side, probably from his brief introduction to the solid timber cabinet back at the hotel. Further down, he saw the odd lay of his hips, confirming Bobby's earlier diagnosis of dislocation. To top it all off, his leg was clearly broken – bone poking through flesh and revealing the muscle and meat of Sam's calf.

'We can't fix him,' Bobby muttered. 'Not on our own. He needs surgery, but if we take him to the hospital – there's gonna be questions as to why hospital grade anaesthesia won't knock him out.'

Dean turned back to his brother's face, noting that Sam's gaze had shifted from him, to something unseen in the corner of the room.

Oh great, the last thing Sam needed right now was Lucifer showing up regaling him with the worst hits of Monty Python.

'What do you suggest?' Dean snapped, immediately regretting his tone.

Bobby ignored it. He knew the kid was hurtin' for his brother – but he did have a plan.

'I got a buddy in the loop – a field surgeon. Just finished a tour in Afghanistan. Patched up soldiers good as new when things looked grim. I'll give her a call, see if she can swing by.'

Dean nodded without hesitation. If Bobby trusted this chick, he could deal.

The older man left the room and Dean pulled a chair close to the table.

'Ya with me kiddo? You're gonna be just fine – ya hear?'

Sam turned his head towards his voice, his eyes still glued to the empty corner of the kitchen.

'If h-he doesn't s-shut his fucking mouth soon…I'm going to end him,' was Sam's fierce response.

Atta-boy Sammy.

'Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...

...always look on the bright side
of life...'

Floating on a high of morphine, Sam was finding it more and more difficult to tune him out. His vision kept flickering from Bobby's kitchen to the time he spent with Lucifer in The Cage, but he was still capable of separating reality and hallucination. God dammit, he was tired though.

At a guess, he'd been awake for thirty hours and couldn't do jack shit about it. Dean was by his side for the most part, offering comfort and an anchor to what was real. He had been told several hours ago, that someone was coming by to help with the patch up, so he guessed things were pretty bad – though he didn't comment on it. He needed to stay strong for his brother.

It was after eight, when the field surgeon arrived in a beat up four-by-four, dark hair pulled back in a messy bun and eyes serious, she greeted Bobby with a one armed hug and shook Dean's hand firmly. She was attractive and the elder Winchester may have hit on her if the situation weren't so dire.

She didn't waste any time. She entered the kitchen without preamble and moved towards Sam.

'Hey there.' She greeted with a soft smile. 'I'm Lorraine, how ya holdin' up?'

Sam returned the smile, and shrugged. 'I was thrown from an eight story window by a pissed off spirit and my hallucination of Lucifer is going through the entire Monty Python soundtrack so I can't sleep…or pass out. I'm fantastic.' He replied casually.

He took it as a sign that she knew a lot of what was really going on, when her smile widened.

'Meaning of Life or Holy Grail?'

Dean snorted from the door. She certainly had a good bedside manner.

'Holy Grail,'

Lorraine chuckled and gave his shoulder a squeeze, before beginning her examination.

Running cool fingers down the length of his torso, she winced in sympathy at the give in his ribs but continued down his injured body before offering any advice.

'Looks like he's got at least four ribs broken, although luckily none of the shards have pierced his lung. He may have a kidney bleed, so the bad news is, I will have to go in and check it out. Obviously, his leg is broken – so I'll set that first and stitch it up. I don't think he can deal with two open wounds at once. Even with the morphine – he'll feel it. '

Dean nodded, feeling a bit fresher after his earlier shower. 'What about his hip?' He asked, washing his hands and donning another pair of disposable gloves.

There was a pop followed by a pained grunt and Dean's head snapped up at the sound.

'Done,' the surgeon replied. 'How long has it been since his last shot of morphine?'

'About three hours,'

She nodded and pulled an IV bag from her duffle. 'This is a slightly stronger version of morphine – we use it in the field when travel is involved to get he injured party to safety. It'll send him loopy, but after this, he won't be able to have any more painkillers for at least six hours.'

Dean sighed; the thought of Sam being in that much pain without the ability to pass out was terrifying, but for the surgery, it had to be done.

Taking his silence as permission, Lorraine inserted the cannula into the crook of Sam's elbow and hung the bag from a collapsible IV pole.

'Let's get this show on the road then, shall we?' Dean suggested as they set to work.

Everything was going well, until suddenly, it wasn't.

They had set his leg, and Lorraine had just opened him up, when Sam arched off the table and screamed.

'SHIT!' Lorraine swore, extracting her fingers from the wound and pressed down to stop the rush of blood.

'Sam! Sammy, look at me kiddo. Look at me,' Dean insisted firmly, his bloody hands framing his brother's pale and sweaty face.

'L-Lucifer…p-playn' with my insides…' He gasped, squeezing Dean's hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to life.

'Lucy ain't playing with anything. You're safe Sammy, I gotcha – you need to stay still so the pretty doctor can fix you up. Okay?'

Sam relaxed slightly, but his breathing was till ragged.

'Kay,' he managed. 'S-stay with me?'

'I gotta help the doc buddy, but I'll be close – don't worry.'

'Please,' he begged.

Dean caught Lorraine's eye and she nodded. 'I got this covered. Keep him calm and distracted.'

The surgery took a little over two hours, and by the time Lorraine was finished – all three of them were exhausted.

'S-so tired, Dean.' Sam murmured, his eyes bloodshot.

'Yeah, I know you are brother. You can sleep soon,' Dean assured, resting his palm against a hot cheek.

'Please kill me,'

The elder froze, his heart leaping into his throat at the utter despair in Sam's voice. Tears welled in his eyes as he brushed his thumb along Sam's stubbled jaw.

'Never gonna happen, kid.' Dean said shakily. 'You can't ask that of me.'

'N-need to sleep. Need to get away…hurts to much…'

Dean leant down until they were almost nose to nose, foreheads touching.

'You listen to me, right now Sammy. You look at me and you listen. I will not let anything happen to you. We haven't given up, so you can't either, ya hear? I will fix this, because I can't live if I don't have you by my side. I'm nothing without you, got it? Nothin'. So you fight dammit. Fight this.'

Tears filled Sam's eyes as Dean pressed his lips to his sodden brow.

'I will,' Sam promised.

TBC