Scraped Knees
K Hanna Korossy

Sam had managed to stagger with the unconscious girl to the school nurse, pass off a story about her fainting in the hallway, and get back outside without raising any suspicions. He didn't figure he'd be so lucky with Dean, though, and he was right.

Dean's head was bouncing to some beat either on the radio or in his brain, fingers tapping on the open window's frame. With their usual sixth sense about each other, he looked up as Sam made his careful way down the school steps. Two seconds later, Dean was out of the car and halfway up the walk, face creased in concern and banked rage at whoever had messed with his little brother.

"What happened to you? Your teacher's memories of you a little less rosy?" The rib was totally for appearance's sake, though, his hands gentle as he took Sam's arm. "Where're you hurt?"

"It wasn't Mr. Wyatt," Sam gritted out, gratefully letting himself lean a little into Dean's hold. Geez, for a teenage girl, even a possessed one, Jennifer could kick. "Just…get me to the car."

Dean's frown deepened but he didn't push it, matching Sam's shuffling pace to the Impala and not letting go until Sam sagged into his seat with a grimace. "Okay," Dean said then, arms stretched across roof and car door, protectively hemming him in. "Tell me what happened and who I have to beat up."

Sam groaned a laugh. "We're not in high school anymore, Dean." He rubbed at his aching face. "And it wasn't a who. The ghost's still here."

Dean, distracted as he always was by the sight of Sam hurting, took a second to blink up at his brother. "Come again?

Sam shrugged tiredly with his good shoulder. "Another kid got possessed—Jennifer Tanaka. Laid me out, then got evicted when I salted her."

"Tanaka?" Dean's mouth twitched. "Dude, you got put down by Hello Kitty?"

Sam glowered back. "She was possessed, Dean. I wasn't expecting it, and she was strong." He was right, but it still came out a little petulant.

Dean chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "Okay, sit tight. I'm gonna run in and, uh, borrow her file, then we'll get you patched up and figure this out."

"Yeah, okay." Sam leaned his head back and closed his eyes as Dean swung his door shut.

Ow. Every movement radiated pain from his groin outward. The stab wound burned, and his cheek was sore from where he'd smacked into the lockers. Worst of all was the thought that they'd burned Barry's bones for nothing. The kid hadn't been vindictive, before death or after; Sam should've known that. What had happened to Barry's dreams of being a vet, anyway? He'd seemed better adjusted than Sam back then.

Not that Sam was so much better now.

He sighed, running a hand wearily through his hair. Dean would be back soon and would want to know what had happened to him. Sam wasn't a kid anymore, had looked after himself plenty of late. He was tempted to brush off his brother's inevitable concern, patch up the stab wound and walk off the kick on his own and not talk about Barry.

But these days there were already too many secrets between him and Dean. Some things Sam had no choice but to hide. But this at least he could share with Dean, let his brother look after him. Pretend for a moment that nothing had changed.

The squeak and rock of the driver-side door opening jerked Sam's head up with a gasp.

"Easy, tiger," Dean soothed, sliding into the car with a manila folder in his hand. He eyed Sam soberly. "You okay? We need a hospital?"

"No," Sam grunted, falling back into the seat. "Just an icepack."

He could sense the moment the light bulb went on for Dean. "Oh. Oh." He winced."Casper hit below the belt, huh? Sorry, dude." It was said with real empathy.

"Just…" Sam waved a hand vaguely toward the windshield. "Let's go."

"Going." Dean turned the engine over and pulled out of the school's driveway. Then cleared his throat. "If the ghost attacked you, I'm guessing it knows who we are. Maybe we should lay low until we figure this out."

Sam opened his eyes and rolled his head along the top of the seat to look at Dean. "You think it would come after us at the motel?"

Dean shrugged. "Who knows, maybe? I mean, we already know it's a pretty ticked-off spirit. If it's vindictive enough…"

Sam sighed, letting his eyes fall shut again. "Yeah, whatever." He paused. "It knew my name. My real name."

His arm was nudged. "Tell me what happened, Sam."

Sam did. By the time he finished, he could feel the Impala leave the road and roll over uneven ground. Curious, he opened his eyes and saw trees.

Dean noticed, of course. "Little place I found last time we were here." He grinned. "Good spot for making out."

"So of course you brought me here," Sam said dryly.

Dean's expression faltered for a second, then he smirked. "You're not my type, Samantha." He peeled Sam's jacket and shirt back, grimacing at the puncture wound under his collarbone, then carefully patted Sam's chest. "Come on, let's get you fixed up."

He helped Sam out and over to a bench by the water, batted his hands away when Sam tried to clean out the puncture wound, dug him out some painkillers and a cold bottle in lieu of an icepack, and made some creative threats against the ghost that had hurt his brother. It was the same behavior that had made Sam roll his eyes in high school, that always reminded him he was the younger brother, the smaller and weaker one.

But now, three inches taller than Dean, it also still made him feel safe and loved. Paradoxically strong. Sam had almost forgotten that part.

He couldn't tell Dean about what he was doing with Ruby, not yet. And he had to look after his traumatized brother these days, too, especially when Hell's flames haunted Dean's eyes. But Sam had always gone to him with his scraped knees, his problems with bullies, his nightmares and late-night fears, and Dean had risen to the occasion every time no matter what he himself was dealing with. He needed to take care of someone else sometimes, to be Sam's big brother again.

And maybe, Sam thought as his brother fussed over him…maybe it was okay to still need that sometimes, too.

The End