Broken Ribs, Courtesy of a Wendigo i/f

2.1K 23 5
                                    

A/N: Yes, yes, I know Bobby isn't introduced until 1x22 and this is set right after 1x02, but I really wanted Bobby in this, so



It's obvious that Dean is hurt. When the paramedic asked if he was injured, he said he just had some cuts on his face. They cleaned and bandaged those and sent the brothers on their way. If Sam hadn't been talking with the police at the time, he would have made the paramedics check him out, but it was too late for that.

Dean shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat and Sam doesn't miss the grimace of pain that crosses his face.

Gone for four years and Dean is still his same, stubborn self. Sam shakes his head. He checks the road sign ahead. There's a hotel not too far off the road. He steers the car over to the exit, wondering if the reason Dean gave up the car to Sam so easy was because of how bad he's hurt. The idea wasn't comforting.

At the stoplight, Sam takes a right. "Dude, what're you doing? The hotel's that way." Dean points behind them.

"I saw a sign for a drug store."

"Okay." Dean draws out the word. "And?"

"Don't play dumb," Sam says, annoyed. "You're hurt. Self care doesn't make you any less of a man. Unless you're a masochist who wants to be in pain." Sam looks at Dean just as he looks away. "If you won't let me take you to a doctor, we have to treat it on our own." Sam can practically feel Dean roll his eyes. He turns into the parking lot of the drug store. "We need another icepack and more pain medication. And no arguing," Sam says when Dean opens his mouth.

"I'm fine." If Sam didn't know Dean as well as he did, he'd believe him.

"Bull." He looks down at Dean's arm wrapped around his torso. "You haven't moved your arm from your side at all since we left." Dean opens his mouth, about to argue but gives up and sighs, making him groan in pain quietly. "Are your ribs bruised or broken?"

"Probably broken, but the pain's only a three, max." Which Sam knows with Dean's high pain tolerance, is probably a normal person's seven. Sam'll have to keep a close eye on him.

"Okay. I'll give you a once over when we get to the hotel. Don't move," he instructs.

"Yes, sir," Dean says, mock-seriously.

• • •

When Sam gets back to the car ten minutes later, Dean's asleep. Sam opens the back door and puts the bags in; he might've gone a little overboard on the supplies. He closes the door, probably a little too loudly. When he gets in the front, Dean is pinching the bridge of his nose and grimacing. "Don't fucking do that," he forces out through clenched teeth.

Sam cranks up the car, turning on the heat for Dean's sake. "Sorry. Here, have an ice pack or two." He holds out one of those ice packs that you break and it turns cold. Dean keeps his eyes closed and takes them from Sam.

Sam watches him out of the corner of his eye as he puts the car in reverse and drives out of the parking lot. Dean lifts his arm as little as he can to put one of the ice packs against his ribs. With his other hand, he puts the other one against the back of his head. "Are you okay?" Dean asks out of the blue.

"Me?" Sam keeps his eyes on the road. "I didn't get my ribs broken by a wendigo. Well, I did fall through the floor and land on my back, but –" he says casually.

"What?" Dean asks, suddenly alert. He holds in a groan as the sudden intake of air made pain shoot through his ribs.

He shrugs. "Didn't knock my out. My head doesn't even hurt anymore."

Supernatural One ShotsWhere stories live. Discover now