Ello you lovely lot! It's been a damn while. I have certainly missed this...

I hope you're staying safe out there!

Having a bunch of time to write recently meant working through my old dusty fics and I found some good ole Supernatural hurt/comfort from back in Season 1. Remember those days?

I do love this damn show so much.

I hope you enjoy!

Tag to season one, Asylum. Hurt Sam, pissed off and hurt, but also awesome big brother Dean!

Summary: Ellicott got into Sam's head and he didn't realize how much until he was being shaken awake in the middle of the night, covered in blood.

Warning: This year is a total shithole. Don't raise your expectations. Also, I swear a lot.

After effects

xXxXx

Dean slammed the door shut so hard it shook in the frame. He kicked off his boots without a care and tossed his duffle to the foot of his bed, twisting stiffly he shrugged out of his leather jacket and sighed deeply.

His chest throbbed with a painful burn and Dean weighed up whether he should just crawl into bed and be done with the day, or if the sweet but mild relief he'd feel at taking a hot shower could tempt him to stay upright a little longer.

He swallowed, decided, and slowly made his way to the bathroom, Dean flicked on the light and kicked the door shut behind him.

Sam flinched at the bang and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Dean had hardly said a word to him on the drive to the hotel and he didn't blame him. Some of the things Sam had said still rung in his ears and he winced.

He didn't mean any of the hateful things that Ellicott had made him say. It was like it had searched for any cracks or gaps in their relationship and then super charged them with with so much hate and malice and rage Sam had been overwhelmed into submission and then he couldn't even control his own body as he heard himself shaking with hatred, all aimed at Dean.

He remembered firing the shotgun at his brother, point blank and grimaced, stomach tight. The blast still loud in his own throbbing head.

Sam's palms were sweaty when he remembered the weight of Dean's handgun in them and the stopping click as he pulled the trigger.

Sam's breath hitched. He had never felt such much seething anger in his life and it had left him shaken and weak as soon as the Doctor's hold was broken. Dean's painful pleading gaze burnt into his memory. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Pain danced behind Sam's eyes as he winced and he sat heavily on his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The water squealed as he heard Dean shut the shower off and Sam stretched across to his duffle as he pulled out the first aid kit.

The last time Sam had asked, Dean had snapped him an, 'I'm fine' and promptly flicked stations, turning up the radio to smother their conversation.

Sam didn't blame him.

The bathroom door swung open as Dean unsteadily exited, hair askew and eyes hard, clad in fresh sweats he carefully made his way to his bed and bit back a hiss as he let himself lie back against the pillows.

Sam swallowed, slowly standing, he faced Dean.

Even with his eyes closed Dean could sense Sam's stare.

"What?" Dean bit out.

Sam was silent a moment as he shifted his weight, obviously uncomfortable.

Dean heard Sam swallow and clear his throat, his voice soft.

"How's your chest?"

Dean sighed. "Fine." He growled. "I took care of it."

Pain tightened around Dean's eyes as he remembered standing under the hot water and biting back a scream at the sting as he cleaned out his wounds. Even now they felt swollen and tender even touching against his tee.

Dean's brows dipped as he frowned angrily, eyes still tightly shut. He was not looking forward to the bruising he could already feel blossoming over his chest. The morning would suck.

Sam still hadn't moved.

Dean sighed again, irritated. Even if Sam wasn't talking he could feel the kids guilt from across the room, could practically see Sam's pleading eyes. Something nagged at him as a big brother and he opened his mouth to speak, when a painful exhale reminded Dean of the six new holes peppering his flesh and he bit back his words, anger and annoyance backing his silence.

"I just want to get some sleep." Dean whispered, ending it before it started. He was too exhausted to deal with this right now and he was not in the mood for a heart to heart.

He heard Sam's stuttered breath and then his brother was shuffling to the bathroom.

Dean cracked open his eyes as he felt Sam's shadow pass him and felt a tug of unease at the hurt look he caught in Sam's downward gaze. The fine lines of pain still creasing Sam's forehead.

The door shut and the shower started and Dean let himself be lulled into oblivion by the sounds of running water.

x0x0x0

Dean's eyes opened to grey darkness. Blinking he stared up a few times until his eyes adjusted and he could make out the hotel ceiling, the faint glow of streetlamps stamped above the closed curtain rail the only source of light.

Dean glanced to his side table, the digital clock just barely glowing 4:37am.

Breathing out through his nose he grit his teeth against the painful twinge in his chest and slowly sat up, each wound beating in pain as if he had multiple hearts all thudding separately inside of him.

The sensation roiled his stomach and he had to hold still on the edge of the bed until the pain eased.

Sam's pleading eyes flashed into his head and alone, in the darkness, some of the anger deflated in Dean and his stomach clenched uncomfortably. He squared his jaw. He should have said more to Sam.

He knew his kid brother took things to heart and he'd be blaming himself for this for weeks. Dean worried his lip. He knew Sam had wanted to talk to him last night but he just couldn't face it. He regretted it now as guilt knotted through him. He was supposed to be a big brother.

Sam had looked like shit. He should have spoken to the kid. Dean shook his head.

Dean's chest would heal, even as much as it now stung, and he couldn't totally blame the kid; he had had a taste of the nasty Doc himself. He knew how Sam's normally mild slights had been ravaged and twisted into bubbling hatred that had burned into him. He remembered all too well the agonizing jolts of pain that ripped into him as the Doctor had grabbed his head. It was like being electrocuted all over but cold.

Dean's headache made itself known as he replayed it.

Sam had got the full dose.

Now worry gnawed at Dean and any more thoughts of sleep were dashed away. He sighed. So much for getting some rest.

Picking himself up on stiff legs Dean headed to the bathroom to wash his face. He may as well get up now anyway.

He didn't know why, but something made him turn his head back and look past across his own bed for his brother.

Something stopped Dean.

Narrowing his eyes Dean concentrated.

In the darkness, Dean could see Sam's blanket covered outline rise and fall with his breath, see the darker splash of shadow as Sam's hair fanned against his pillow. But something still gave Dean pause.

Stepping back the way he'd come, Dean crossed the foot of his bed with padded footsteps, suddenly alert.

There was something wrong with Sam's shape.

Dean couldn't put his finger on it but something stirred in him and he suddenly needed to be with his brother.

Focusing as he stepped closer between their beds, Dean's eyes caught the unnatural shadow that had fallen across Sam's face, spreading down over his side as he lay draped across his bed. His head was tilted like it had slipped off the pillow falling into his shoulder.

It stood out strangely stark against the other shades of darkness covering the rest of the bed and the room.

And it made alarm bells start to blare in Dean's head.

Swiftly striding forward to Sam Dean flicked on the lamp from the centre bed table and cursed.

Dean's eyes widened as he gasped. The painful throbbing in Dean's chest suddenly forgotten he jolted forwards closing the gap, because Sam was fucking covered in blood.

His face, his neck, his chest...the bed...

"Sam!" Dean shook his brother, fingers already searching for a pulse over Sam's blood slicked throat.

"Jesus Sam..." Dean breathed, feeling a weak pulse beat back at his fingertips.

"Sammy! Hey! Sam!" Dean shook him again. Sam's shirt was wet with blood. It squelched in his fists as Dean tightened his grip.

Dean grimaced and shook Sam a little harder. "Sammy!" Dean shouted.

Sam's face began to scrunch up, his forehead creasing with lines of pain.

Sam gasped, eyes snapping open. Something caught in his throat and he coughed wetly, blood dripping from his lips. Sam choked, clenching his eyes shut.

Dean didn't waste a second to the swirling pit in his stomach, hooking his arms around Sam he hauled him up and dragged him fprward, sitting him on the edge of the bed Dean thumped hard and fast into Sam's back as he cradled Sam's chest. Blood ran from Sam's lips down over his chin as he coughed.

Sam struggled, his breaths too short, too few.

Sam tensed against him, mouth opening like he couldn't breathe, and Dean hit him again. He heard the blow smack across Sam's back echo in the room like he'd dropped a book in the silence.

Sam grunted, more blood trickled down from his chin and Sam heaved in a shaky breath.

"...Ngh!..."

Sam sagged in Dean's arms and he steadied them back, Sam still tipped slightly forward, chest heaving with painful wet breaths. Sam's head lolled on his shoulder and he swallowed.

Coughing again, Sam spat out a mouthful of blood then let his head sag forward to his chest.

"Hey...hey..." Dean steadied his brother against him. "Take it easy...just breathe..." Panic stole most of Dean's words as his throat constricted. His own heart pounding in his chest.

Sam shuddered as he caught his breath, his headache beat relentlessly behind his eyes as he squeezed them shut, groaning.

Pulling weakly at Dean, Sam used his brother to raise his head and he squinted down at himself confused.

There was so much blood.

Sam's stomach rolled as he could taste the bitter tang in his mouth and smell it all over him. "Guh...-"

"Wh't..." Sam mumbled thickly, frowning. Talking hurt.

Dean waited for Sam to focus his glassy eyes on him as he watched him closely.

Sam's skin was alarmingly pale. The blood trail from his nose stark in comparison.

Dean tilted Sam with him, still supporting his leaning brother and reached for his face.

Sam winced.

"Hey, let me look..."

Dean jostled Sam a moment while he hastily pulled the cover off a pillow behind them and wadded it up on one hand, his other still firm around Sam.

Dean gently wiped at Sam's face.

The cloth felt rough over Sam's skin as Dean brushed it over his lips and down over his cheek. Dean lifted Sam's chin with the back of his hand as he checked his nose.

It looked like it had stopped bleeding.

Dean grit his teeth as he breathed deeply. Thank god.

Sam's eyes widened at the blood covering the cloth in Dean's hands and fear shone in Sam's confused eyes.

Dean wiped at his neck a little more, the skin beneath pale, flecked with red smears. There wasn't any wounds Dean could see, and he checked thoroughly.

Dean swallowed as he glanced at the blood stained covers beside them.

Jesus Sam had lost a lot of blood.

Sam turned his head to his brother. Pain shining in his eyes.

Sam saw the questions and worry lacing Dean's hard face and he nodded his understanding.

I'm okay.

Dean tried to calm his frantic heart. If he hadn't of woken up when he did...God Sam could have choked on his own damn blood.

Dean paled. He should have checked on Sam last night. If he looked he would have seen something wasn't all right with Sam and he wouldn't have nearly bled out in the middle of the night of some shit hole hotel. Some brother he was.

His own heart ached with worry and his chest ached from the movement and Sam leaning against him but Dean ignored it. Big brother adrenaline drowning out the burning pain of his own injury.

Dean let Sam come round a little more before he spoke.

Sam shook his head gently.

"How's your head?"

Sam winced. "Hurts."

"How long?" Dean probed, searching Sam's eyes.

"All nigt'..."

Dean swallowed.

Sam, even half dizzy and weak from blood loss still saw the blame burning in Dean's eyes.

"Worse...b'fore..." Sam mumbled, leaning into Dean.

Dean let Sam sag against him as he held him close. It had been too close a call tonight and it had shaken Dean.

Neither brother was ready to close their eyes anytime soon, despite how exhausted Sam looked and felt.

They sat together well into the early hours, content with the sound of the others breathing.

Dean cleaned Sam up a little better but had to toss his shirt and the bedding. A jolt of panic still rippled through him when he'd bundled them up and the sheer sodden weight had reminded Dean how Sam was extremely lucky tonight.

They stayed at the hotel a few a more days while Dean insisted Sam rest up, reminding him just how quickly south it could have all gone repeatedly, and Sam submitted, agreeing to rest if Dean would do the same.

So they had a deal.

Other than a lingering headache, Sam didn't have any other lasting side effects and this time Dean kept a careful eye on him, whether he said he was fine or not.

And that was fine with Dean because he had a job to do and he intended to do it.

He was Sam's big brother, and he wouldn't let himself ever forget it.

The end.

Thanks for reading!