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hey brother » avicii

Hey Brother » Avicii

❝ What if I'm far from home? Oh, brother I will hear you call. ❞

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Supernatural characters or any part of the SPN universe.

The two brothers were fighting the werecat, that had gone insane and killed innocent lives in the past week. The older yet the shorter brother took a deep breath before firing his shotgun that had been filled with silver bullets, unfortunately missing the target.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed bitterly, under his breath, while the younger but taller brother, Sam, struggled to stand after being thrown against a tree by the werecat.

He could hear Dean yelling his name at the same time firing his gun, running after the monster.

Sam's vision was beginning to blur as darkness slowly consumed the corners of his sight. He passed out, landing on the ground listlessly.

The splintering sound of multiple gunshots echoed in the silent night air, and shortly after, Dean emerged from the thicket of woods.

"Man, that son of a bitch put up a hell of a..." Dean's voice trailed off as he saw Sam's unmoving body lying face-down in the dirt. "Sam? Sammy!" He dashed to his little brother, immediately dropping on his knees.

"C'mon," Dean gently pressed his fingers on Sam's neck in search for a pulse. Thankfully, he could feel his brother's pulse, rapidly beating against his fingers. He crept closer to his Sam's face and felt the soft exhale of his breathing against his cheek.

Dean carefully rolled Sam onto his back and patted frantically on his cheek. "Sam," He brushed his younger brother's unruly dark hair away from his face, "Sammy, open your eyes!"

Dean's voice was commanding, a direct order that Sam was accustomed to, that somewhere at the back of his mind he heard his brother and responded by slowly cracking open his eyes.

"Dean?" He sighed, looking at his brother, trying hard to focus as his adrenaline waned and exhaustion took a hold. "The werecat?"

"Took care of it," Dean patted Sam's left shoulder. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam mumbled, as he tried to get up a little too quickly and stumbled backward.

"Woah, slow down," Dean said softly, catching his brother before he fell back down. "Your jacket is bloody! Let me take a look."

"Leave me alone, Dean," Sam hissed. "I just hit a tree, of course, I'm bloody!"

"Whatever," Dean muttered. "You need a shower anyway."

They drove a few miles down the road before pulling over at the nearest motel. Without saying a word, Sam went into the bathroom while Dean flopped down on the bed.

Sam started to take off his jacket and winced quietly as the drying blood adhered to his back. He knew the wound was not from hitting a tree, but by the werecat's claws, and he knew what that meant. Death.

He turned his back to the mirror and cranked his neck to examine the damage. It was one single claw mark that arched along his right shoulder blade. Although the bleeding had ceased, the wound didn't look too good. The edges were already puffy with infection and angry red lines radiated from them.

He walked to the shower, his hand falls to the lever and the water begins, so cold at first, then the stream thickens, warmth filling the room.

Sam yelped when the hot water hit the wound and stung sharply, but after the initial pain, it subsided.