Chapter Text
What the hell kind of thing fought like this? Dean wanted to know, as he used a strip of cloth from his shirt to tie it around his thigh. It moved almost like a Wendigo, looked like a Ghendara demon, but fought using weapons. The fucking thing had shot at him! The bullet had gone through his flesh, but the back of his thigh was bleeding and hurt like a sonovabitch. This was it. He'd have to go back to the motel, regroup and come back for it - if it was still here. He'd chased it across three state lines already.
Wiping his bloody hand, Dean gathered up his stuff and started to limp through the trees toward the direction of the highway. Goddamnit, he should have jumped for cover faster. What the hell was he thinkin'...
A ferocious growl erupted from right in front of him. All he saw was a dark shadow in the shape of that thing, and staggered backwards, turning and running back. The sounds drew closer, and he knew he'd have to find a place where he was at least partially protected, especially with the bum leg. As he scanned for a potential place, the earth seemed to drop under his foot. There was a snapping sound. "What the..."
Just as he looked up, something swung toward him. Before he could dive down, the thing that looks like a big dinosaur's jaw chomped down on his shoulder, arm, ribs, and side. Each 'tooth' entered his body like a hot lance, making him scream so loud his throat was raw. Gritting his teeth, Dean started to look down at the damage when he was struck by 'round two' of the trap. Like a bungee cord, it yanked him up into the trees, so he was hanging above ground... the metal teeth of the trap tearing his skin and muscles even more as his weight pulled him down.
Head thrown back, Dean let loose on the shout that welled up in the back of his throat. He couldn't stop... needed to stop because he didn't want to attract the creature, or anything else, but the pain was unbearable. His blood poured down his body, dripping to the ground below. He knew, he knew at the rate he was losing it, he'd be dead in less than an hour... and there was not a fucking thing he could do. Each time he tried to use his uninjured arm to pull at the trap, his body's movements put more pressure on his wounds and he was screaming like a girl again.
"No, goddamnit... you are not gonna win... you are not gonna win..." he kept muttering, as minutes ticked by and the pool of blood on the ground grew wider. He rallied once more, this time trying to swing himself over to a tree branch... if he could sit... if he could ...
Then nausea and blackness engulfed him, and it was over.
* * *
The sun was starting to set as Sam stepped out onto the porch of his small cabin situated deep in the heart of the woods. Placing the bowl of stew and raw meat on the ground, he whistled, waiting as what looked like a large Alaskan Husky trotted up to him and began to dine on the contents on the bowl. Sitting down on the porch step, Sam ran a hand over the dog's thick soft fur as the animal dined. "There's more Nakita, slow down. Chew your food," he muttered to her, as he watched the animal wolf it down. Shaking his head he smiled and turned his head, looking off into the woods, a small frown lining his brow at the sound of the wild ferocious cry as it echoed through the trees.
Running a hand over his face, Sam shook his head. Seemed he wasn't the only beast that had made these woods it's home. Although he wasn't as apt to kill a human, not that it wasn't in his blood to do it, only the fact that he was a good man, had once been a good hunter, kept him from giving in to the desire to kill.
The he heard it, a human man's shout of pain echoing through the trees. Even Nakita lifted her head from the bowl to lick her lips, ice blue eyes darting about as a whimper escaped her. Sam pulled to his feet, his hazel eyes scanning the horizon, "Stay here, Nakita," he glanced over his shoulder at the dog, "Stay!" he told her one last time, before stepping down the remaining two steps and walking off into the woods, toward the area the cry had come from.
Sam had gone maybe half a mile when he saw him, the man hanging from the crude trap high in the tree. Blood stained the ground below him, dripping down, even as Sam approached. With a sigh, Sam looked around for the creature who had done this, but luckily for the poor schmuck hanging there, the damned thing seemed not to be on it's way to collect it's latest prize.
Reaching up and grabbing a branch of the tree, Sam pulled himself up, couching on one of the limbs as he pulled a large hunting knife from the sheath at his hip, and began cutting through the rope holding the trap up in the air. Glancing at the man, Sam muttered a, "Sorry," just before the man fell to the ground.
Jumping down, Sam walked over to the blood covered guy to see if he was still alive or not. If he wasn't, Sam could salt and burn the body, if he was, then he was in luck, Sam happened to be a healer now, knowing a hell of a lot more than the average person about such things from his time hunting.
Crouching beside the body, Sam reached a hand out to press his index and middle finger to the side of the man’s throat to check for a pulse. There was one, though it seemed weak. With a sigh, Sam pulled his hand back, his gaze traveling over the man as he tried to decide what to do next. The trap wasn't going to be easy to get off. He didn't have anything with him to open it up with. Sure, he was strong enough to just break it open, but in the process, he'd likely do more damage.
Dean’s throat had been so raw, no sound had come out when he fell to the ground and was pulled out of the sweet bliss of unconsciousness by new pain, just as bad as the initial pain when the trap snapped shut on him. His own blood covered his eyes, he couldn't see, and he kicked blindly. If it was that thing... he didn't want to turn into something it would lay its eggs in... then become food for its young ones. No goddamnit.
He kicked again, but there was no sound. No thud of his foot against anything, or against the ground. With a sinking heart, he realized that while his mind was willing, his body had given out and was hardly moving. A whimper escaped him, and he prayed for a quick death.
Sam noticed then that the man started to move, his legs jerking just slightly as he lay there on the ground. Shock? Possibly. Reaching a hand out, Sam laid it against the man's forehead. "Shshsh," he tried to comfort, before looking around. He hated to do this, just in case this man had a partner, most hunters did, he hadn't, but then his father had been his partner until the day he had been killed.
This man's partner may very well be nearby and how was he going to respond to Sam lifting his buddy like he weighed nothing and carrying him through the woods? Gritting his teeth, he made a decision, he'd have to deal with a nosey hunter if and when it came to that, right now, this man before him needed his help. There was no way Sam would leave him there for the Gormeister to come back and tear to pieces. Moving in slightly, Sam slid an arm under the man's knees and one under his shoulders, lifting him into his arms as he pulled up to his full height.
Sam had no doubt that what he did hurt like a sonofabitch, but there was nothing he could do about it right then, his lifting pressing the 'teeth' of the trap deeper into the man's shoulder. With a glance down at the man's face, Sam turned and headed back toward his cabin. "Hold on, man. I gotcha."
The voice. Human... it soothed Dean a little. That was until he was lifted and pain shot through him. His hoarse cry was barely audible. He clenched his teeth to prevent himself from crying out again... or just crying.
Time seemed to stop. Dean knew they’d walked quite a ways. All that time, he’d tried to open his eyes but it was hard with the blood caked over it. One eye finally opened, a mere slit through which he saw the darkening sky and the branches of trees. "Wrong way... car... highway... " he breathed, hoping the man would hear, understand. "Hospital."
Sam glanced down at the man, as he reached the front area of his cabin and shook his head. Sam never went toward the road, hardly ever left the safety of the woods, safety for the rest of the world as much as himself. "No, I'm sorry," he told him softly, as he started up the front steps leading to the door of his cabin.
Nakita picked up her head as Sam approached, a low whine sounding in her throat, before she pulled to her feet, following after him, as he opened the door with the hand tucked under the man's legs. Entering the house, Sam kicked the door closed and walked toward the small bedroom at the back of his cabin, placing the man down in his own bed, and pulling back. Nakita stood beside Sam, watching him, looking between him and the stranger.
"Stop staring, Nakita, it's not polite," Sam muttered as he turned, stepping back outta the room. The large husky's nose nudged the man on the bed, before turning to follow after Sam.
A minute later, he was back with a few tools and a salve in a clay jar. He started to work getting the trap off of the man. When he finally had it lose enough to where he could pull it open without ripping flesh, or at least he was pretty sure it wouldn't, he laid the tools down. "Okay, here goes," he told the man, "this is gonna hurt... a lot." swallowing Sam slid his hands around the metal pieces and pulled, gritting his teeth.
The metal creaked and groaned, then snapped and broke off, freeing the man. Blood gushed from the wounds, wetting the bed covers as Sam tossed the trap pieces onto the floor. Reaching down, Sam unsheathed the knife at his hip again, cutting away the man's shirt. Taking the jar of salve in one hand, he dipped the other into it and began applying the thick smelly mixture to the wounds.
"Sonova..." Dean weakly groaned out his pain, feeling an errant tear slip out his eyes. His chest heaved as the man prodded and touched him. He felt him clean away his blood, and bit his lip as something cool touched his skin. It was taking the burn away... numbing it, oh God... whatever it was, it was helping. He reached out, gripped the man's arm. "Thank y--" Blackness engulfed him again.
Sam frowned down at the man. "Don't thank me yet," he grumbled under his breath, too quietly for the man to hear, though Nakita whined as she watched, slowly moving to stretch out and lay on the floor.
Once Sam had the wound covered in mixture that smelled like a combination of gasoline and vomit, but worked like nothing else he knew to numb and fight infection, Sam wrapped as much of the man's wounds as possible, rolling him half over to get the back side of the wounds as well. All he could do now, was wait. If the man didn't get a raging fever, he might make it, though with the amount of blood he had lost it would be a slow healing.
Stepping down toward the foot of the bed after grabbing a cloth to wipe his hands, Sam unlaced and removed the man's boots and socks, covering him with the blanket up to his hips. "Come on, Nakita, let him sleep," Sam called as he headed to and out the door, closing it softly behind him.
* * *
Fire burned like an inferno around him. Heat, hot winds chafing his skin, drying his throat. He thrashed. "Water," Dean croaked, trying to beat the flames, whimpering when they burned his arm and side, his thigh. His forehead was damp, the sheets under him soaked, but he was so damned hot... he needed to get out.
Sam sat at the table in the small kitchen of his cabin, mixing more of the salve, only to glance up as Nakita scratched at the door to the bedroom. Arching a brow, Sam pulled to his feet frowning, "I don't hear anything, since when do you hear better than I do?" He grumbled at the dog, but Nakita was adamant.
Sam opened the door and stepped into the room, walking over to the bed, Nakita nearly knocking him out of the way as she shoved past him, dancing at the bedside, whining. "Yeah, I got that, but I didn't hear him." Sam told the animal as he reached a hand out and laid it against the man's forehead, wiping away the sweat from his brow.
Nakita barked and Sam turned his head, glaring at her. "Yeah, so you were right, what do you want, a cookie?" he huffed and turned walking out of the room to get a basin of water and a cloth.
Returning, Sam wrung out the cloth in the basin of cool water and began to run it slowly, soothingly over the man's face.
Through blurry eyes, he saw the dark haired man again. His initial panic immediately melted away. "Hot. Want to go outside," he said, moving his head from side to side. "Please."
Sam frowned, glancing out the one small window in the room at the now dark sky, thankful that there wasn't a full moon, before he looked back down at the man and shook his head. "No, you can't go outside. You'll be fine." Sam looked over at Nakita, "You hot?" the animal whined, tilting her head. Sam looked back at the man and shook his head, "See? She's not hot. You have a fever. It'll pass, let me give you something."
Dropping the rag back into the basin, he left the room and then returned quickly another clay jar. Reaching down, Sam grasp the man's jaw gently as he used a finger to dish out a small amount of the thick medicine. Shoving his finger into the man's mouth, he wiped his finger off against teeth and tongue before pulling it back. "Swallow that." Sam nodded. Of course, the stuff tasted like dog food and was the consistency of runny play-doh.
Well that woke Dean up like nothing else could. He coughed and tried to get it out of his mouth, but the moment he tried scraping his own tongue against his teeth, the stuff melted and ran down his throat. Tears pricked his eyes. "You fucking trying to kill me?" he demanded, raising up on one arm. "Water!"
Sam nodded as he looked from the man to the dog as he let her lick the remaining mixture off of his finger. "I'll get you some, let Nik here finish." As the dog seemed satisfied with the amount she had licked off Sam's finger and backed up a little, Sam raised his hand up, sticking the finger into his own mouth and pulling it out with an audible pop.
Dean gave the man a baleful look, and did the same to the animal in the room. What the fuck? "I think I'm gonna throw up."
Sam shrugged a shoulder as he turned, "I'll get you your water," he said as he walked to and out the door.
Was he hallucinating? Had he just shared that man's finger with two others? Himself, the guy's dog, and the guy? Dean blinked, and tried to sit up. His head swam, and his shoulder burned like a sonovabitch. Hissing, he forced himself up. "How long I been here?" he called out, hearing movements in the other room. "What... what's your name?"
He started to sniff, looking around. "What the fuck is that smell?" he looked down, sure it was coming from himself. "What did you put on me? Shit?" At that thought, he made himself climb out of the bed, staggered forward and fell against the wall.
Sam walked back into the room, glass of water in hand, "A few hours, Sam, you, a healing salve, and no," he answered the man's questions in order as he set the glass of water on the small night stand and grabbed a chair from against the wall, and pulled it up to the side of the bed.
If he'd been in better shape, Dean might have laughed at the seriatum answers. Sam. Okay, normal name. But he wasn't a hundred percent sure about the guy, though he'd clearly saved him, and taken care of him.
Sam sat down watching the guy gripping the wall for balance, hazel eyes scanning over his form. "I'll help you to the edge of the woods, when you're ready to make the journey. I don't go farther than that. It's the best I can offer." He sighed, lowering one hand toward the floor for Nakita to come over to him, digits sinking into her think soft fur to scratch. "But for now, I think you'd better sit down, before you fall down."
Dean scrubbed his face. His legs felt weak, and he was still hot. The stench was getting him sick. "Dude... this smell... you haven't heard of penicillin?" he asked, steadying himself but not moving to the bed. He searched the guy's face, his even features, square jaw and surprisingly gentle looking eyes. "That's fine... I can make my way to the car from there. But... it's not safe here, not until that thing that got me is out of these woods, or I get it. You shouldn't be here alone." He took a couple deep breaths, and started to sink down toward the ground.
Sam shot out of the chair, grabbing the man around the waist to steady him and slowly moved with him back toward the bed. "I give you my bed and you'd rather pass out on my floor," Sam shook his head, "that's gratitude for ya," he muttered, half helping, half forcing the guy back into the bed. "So, I don't usually share my bed with people who's names I don't know, you gonna give me one to call you?" Sam asked him as he reached down, grabbing the blankets to cover the guy with. "And don't bitch, you need to sweat the fever out, trust me. I'm a healer, I know these things."
"Sweat a fever, that's crap... old wives tale. You an old wife?" He snorted, but lay back. "It's Dean. Winchester." He took a breath. "You... have a shower here?" The word healer just made him think of a total backwoods sort, and the more he looked at Sam, the more he could see it. Just so long as he wasn't nuts, and wasn't gonna eat him in his sleep or anything. Not like that was impossible, he'd met freaks before. Still, none of his warning signals were going off. This Sam guy was strange, but he felt safe. Maybe that in and of itself should be a warning.
Sam looked over at the dog and nodded back toward Dean, "You hear that? He wants to know if I'm an old wife. See? I told you you were a bad influence on me!" Sam huffed and shook his head, looking back at Dean. "No, the only one with a mate here is Nakita," he shook his head, "Not me. But, it does work, sweating it out. And that medicine I gave you will help if you'd stop moving around so much and let it take effect."
Sam shook his head as he pulled away from Dean, sitting back down in the chair, "I don't have a shower, I'll wash you later, when the pain isn't so bad. Until then, I have a basin of water to keep you feeling cool." he nodded toward it.
"Wash me?" Dean's eyebrow quirked up. "I can't see you in a nursing outfit..." Nah, he didn't even wanna try. After a few more hours rest, he was sure he could take care of washing himself.
"I'll apply more salve later in the evening. That will help." He frowned at Dean, "Where is your partner? It's not safe to be in these woods hunting that thing without backup."
"You know about that thing. About hunters?" Once again, Dean struggled and sat up, taking a good look at Sam. He was tall, muscular, and could have been a hunter if he weren't a ... what did he call himself, a healer? Since when did healers have to be built like that? "How?" Feeling the intensity of Sam's gaze, he realized the other man was waiting for his answer. "I don't... I don't need one."
The corner of Sam's mouth turned upward into an almost smirk, "Yeah, I can tell," he muttered, glancing pointedly at the white bandages on Dean's shoulder and side before his gaze returned to Dean. Sam shrugged a shoulder, "I know a little about a lot of things, just enough to make me dangerous, I guess." He smiled, making his dimples show.
"Huh." He couldn't help but return the smile. "You live out here alone? Why?" As soon as the question left Dean's lips, he could see Sam get uptight, knew he'd crossed some sort of boundary. It just made him that much more curious.
Sam's jaw clenched, his posture going rigid as he sat up, tearing his gaze away from Dean's to look over at the dog who whined at him. "Shut up, who asked you?" he grumbled, pulling to his feet and pacing toward the door, stopping to lean back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "I don't live alone," he glanced at Nakita, "I live with her."
Again Dean's eyes went between master and dog. "I think you could use some... human company," he said. "I mean I know I talk to my car, but I don't imagine it's talking back to me." He knew Sam hadn't answered his question, and he could see the secrets brewing in the depths of his eyes. Something in his tense stance told him not to push, not now. And why the hell he should want to, Dean didn't know. He was usually more than okay with letting people have their secrets.
Sam smiled at Dean's thinking that Nakita didn't speak to him, but didn't comment on it, only glanced back at the dog with a pointed look, before letting his arms fall to his sides and stepping forward. "Anyone else know you're out here? Friends?" Sam asked him, hazel eyes intent on Dean's face as his hands moved, sliding gently across the bandaged wounds.
"Yeah, a whole army of friends who know," Dean answered. "I mean if you're some serial killer, wanting to know. Otherwise, like I said, it's just me," he shrugged.
"You seem to be staying dry", Sam nodded, "that's a good thing." He turned slightly, reaching for the rag in the basin and wringing it out, washed his face gently. "Yeah, I know, you hated that, but I got tired of staring at your blood crusted face." Sam frowned as he looked at him, "you have freckles."
Dean just barely remembered fighting Sam when he was feverish, but now his touch felt good and he wasn't fighting anymore. Again, the gentleness somehow did not go with the image of this man... and he didn't know why. But the comment, that really took him by surprise. "No I don't," he said defensively. "You're just not getting all the blood off," he sort of pulled his face away, and dared him to contradict that statement.
Sam's lips curved slightly again in that almost smirk as he looked at Dean. "Uh-huh... well, if I scrub any harder to get that 'blood' off, I think I'll wind up having to put that salve on your face and if you think it stinks now, just wait till it's right under your nose."
Dean ignored that. There was no way he was letting Sam put more of that crap on him anyway.
Sam eyed him a moment, "If I were a serial killer, why heal you to begin with?" he shrugged, "Unless you think I just want to hear you scream while I kill you." Sam shrugged a shoulder, but his eyes flashed yellow for a split second, so fast if you blinked you would have missed it.
"If you are, then get ready for disappointment. I think it will be a while before I can yell again," he said. It was the truth, his voice was low and raspy already, and he could barely go above a loud whisper. He squinted, moved his head slightly, staring at Sam's eyes, then let himself back down.
"Still hot," he complained, lifting his chin so Sam could cool his throat area. "This stuff, you sure it stops infection?" Even as he asked, he remembered. "My... my leg. I was hurt there too, before the trap."
Sam pressed the cool rag against Dean's throat, running it across the flesh there slowly, softly. For a moment, almost too softly, like a lover’s caress and not the workings of a healer, but at the mention of a hurt leg, Sam pulled both his hands and the rag away. Dropping the rag into the basin, Sam reached down, tossing back the covers to look at the pantlegs of Dean's jeans, only noticing then what he hadn't thought much of before, on one leg was a blood stain at mid-thigh.
Sam stepped downward, hands going to the button and zipper of Dean's jeans, unfastening them then tucking his fingers into the waistband and gently but firmly tugging them down so that he could see he wound.
Sam turned his head away, a low growl sounding deep in his throat, eyes flashing yellow as he fought back the wolf, his face hidden from Dean's view.
As Sam worked his jeans open, Dean lapsed into silence. He couldn't think of a damned joke while he was getting undressed by some guy. Not a single one. When Sam turned away that quickly, he wondered if he was hurt worse than he thought.
Lifting up onto an elbow, he looked down. There was blood but no wounds. "Ah... back of my leg. Gun shot, but the bullet cleared," he explained. It couldn't be that the blood had gotten to the healer, could it? "Something wrong?" he asked, when there was a silence, like he hadn't even spoken.
Sam held up a finger, hand shaking as he grit his teeth, felt the wolf rising. The guy's scent getting to him, his musk calling to the wolf within. Sam took a few slow breaths as he closed his eyes. Nakita growled low in her throat as she watched Sam, glancing at Dean, her ice blue eyes darting between the two as a small whine left her.
She jumped up onto the bed then, standing between Dean and Sam, small growls sounding deep in her throat as she watched Sam, watched for the wolf she could smell rising.
"Nakita, go!" Sam yelled at her, still not looking back.
The hell? Dean put an arm out, his hand on Nakita's rump as he tried to push her off his bed. "Yeah... go," he added, in his raspy whisper, that no one seemed to be listening to anymore.
The dog whined, dancing slightly as it shifted it's weight from one side to the other, small growls and whines sounding from it's throat. Slowly Sam turned his head, having fought back the wolf and smiled at her with a sigh. "Good girl, now go." he told her quietly, "It's okay, I promise." He told her.
Nakita jumped down from the bed and padded out of the room.
Sam watched her go, before looking back at Dean and licked his lips. "Bullet wound," he nodded and moved back up to Dean's side, "I'll help you roll over so I can see it."
Dean was staring at Sam. "What just happened?" At the silence, he made the demand again. "What the hell just happened? What's with your dog... and you, what were you thanking him...her for? She was stepping all over me, in case you missed it." Before he turned his back to the healer he wanted to be sure the guy wasn't totally nuts.
Sam clenched his jaw, his eyes intent on Dean's face. He didn't speak for a long moment, the muscle in his jaw flexing, twitching as he grit his teeth. "Nakita.... was protecting you." Sam told him softly, "Now roll over," he nodded, "it's fine, she was confused."
"From what? The only ones in the room were you and I." Getting no answer, he let out a semi-angry breath and rolled over onto his stomach. "You know, you really need some company. People. A little socialization. Maybe some non-canine types." On one elbow, He looked over his shoulder, and saw the angry red inflammation on his leg. Yeah, that was the source of his fever probably.
Sam ignored the guy, Dean's, ramblings about his needing company. Human company was the last thing he needed. Not anymore. He use to be a sociable guy, had lots of friends, was thought a lot of as he heard it, but ever since that night, when he had been attacked... he let everyone think he had died there in those woods. It was better that way. He didn't have to worry about hunters and they, the world, didn't have to worry about him.
"You're infected." Sam mumbled, frowning. "Stay still and don't roll anywhere. I'll be right back, I have more salve... and I might need to stitch that up." Turning, Sam walked out the door, giving a high-pitched whistle as he went, "Nakita!"
The dog trotted forward, "Watch him." Sam told her. The husky walked back into the room sitting beside the bed. If a person didn't know better, it seemed as if she had not only understood Sam, but was doing exactly as he had told her to.
"Watch me? For what?" Dean made a face and started to raise himself up only to hear a warning growl. The dog. No way... "Sam, call her off. Sam, shit..." Too weak to fight them, he lay back down, closing his eyes. Maybe he was seeing stuff. Maybe only part of the things happening were really happening, cause this was totally surreal. And he couldn't really put his finger on it. By tomorrow though, he'd be himself, and then he'd figure out what the hell was happening around here. Even if it didn't feel like anything sinister.
After a while, he grew tired of laying on his stomach. "Sam? Call your dog off."
Sam walked back into the room with the jar of new salve he had made, "Nakita, thank you. You can go, he's fine."
The animal whined and stood up, then padded back out of the room. Sam glanced over his shoulder at her as he stepped up to the side of the bed. "She likes you." he told Dean, as he dipped his hand into the jar and started to apply the salve using gentle strokes, and light touches. He shook his head, "She usually gives me more lip about watching someone," Sam glanced up at the Dean, and offered a small smile, "you must have a way with animals."
"She growled at me," he answered pointedly, making a face as that salve was applied. As Sam's gentle strokes moved closer to his inner thigh, he tensed slightly, pressing his lips together. Seriously, the only thing worse than being weak as a baby, in pain, fevered and with a wound 'back there' was if he'd been shot in the damned ass. An unexpected sharp pain had Dean move to grip Sam's thigh, as he took a deep breath. "Sonova..."
Sam was smiling at the fact that Nakita had growled at Dean, when suddenly Dean's hand shot out grabbing his thigh and Sam stilled, muscles tensing. Sam swallowed hard, his hand no longer moving over the wound, as he stood still as a statue. "Um, did I - did I hurt you?" Sam managed to say, though his voice sounded strained even to his own ears as he fought back the wolf's desires, his desires.
Dean nodded, then realized he hadn't answered. "Yeah, hurt. Sorry, don't mean to be such a girl. Go ahead," he said, not reducing the tightness of his grip. "Get it done. I can take it." He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself not to react as badly to the acute pain he now expected. "Go on, Sam."
Sam swallowed and nodded, "Wasn't being a girl, it's okay. Sorry." Clenching his teeth, lips parted slightly, Sam started to continue to apply the salve, trying to be as gentle as he could be with the sticky substance. Pulling back, he lifted his free arm and wiped his forehead on his bicep covered by his button-up shirt. Clearing his throat Sam nodded toward Dean's leg, "If it gets any worse, I'll have to scrub it open and clean it deeper. I think it should be alright though." Turning, Sam wiped his hand off on a rag and looked back over his shoulder at Dean's leg, "Until we know for sure, you need to stay still," he gave Dean a pointed look.
"Mkay." Hand still on Sam's leg, he used it to help push himself so he could roll back onto his back, giving a slight grunt of pain. His head was swimming again. "I..I’m tired. Thanks," he tried to smile as Sam's face blurred to nothingness.
Sam nodded, Jaw clenched as he reached down to grab the covers and pull them up over Dean, tucking them around his body. Stepping backward, his eyes still on Dean's form, Sam felt the wolf's pull. "Nakita," he called to the dog who dutifully came forward, "watch over him," he told her softly, as he ran his hand over her back. "I need to go out for a while."
Minutes later, the lone, mournful call of a wolf sounded through the night.