Sam's hands shook as he threaded the circular needle, swallowing down his nausea at the sight of the crisscrossed slashes on Dean's abdomen. Dean was mercifully unconscious, spread on the ground like a sacrifice, bloody towels beneath him to keep him off the dirt.
Sam paused, surveying the wreckage of his brother.
I can't do this...he needs a doctor..
But it was too far..
He was startled to find Dean's eyes half open, watching him, pain, but no fear there in the cloudy green orbs.
"It's okay, Sam..."
Sam nodded, grit his teeth.
And began to sew.