Tigers Are Awfully Protective...

Sorry

Their motel room was trashed so Sam, Dean, and Sasha had to wait out another motel, perhaps a few towns (or states) over, before they stitched each other up. They didn't want to risk staying in town.

Sam needed a few stitches in his cheek, and Dean on his forehead. Sasha was the biggest task, her stitches from the glass had to be redone along with the new gashes on her back. Sasha made a silent vow to stay the hell away from glass for now.

Once they got to their room, Dean was the only one moving around much; Sam and Sasha had planted themselves on the chairs around the table, much how they had all first met, and Dean handed them each a warm wash cloth to clean up the blood. Sasha had demanded that Sam get stitches first, despite her own injuries, but Dean seemed renewed of energy; he had remained quiet the whole way here but when he began tending to Sam and Sasha, much like a mother hen, Sasha thought to herself, he seemed more awake.

Dean wouldn't let Sasha put Sam first this time, "Sam's fine tigress, you're bleeding all over the place."

To which Sasha stuck her tongue out in response. Dean wouldn't have it though, he dragged her wooden chair over to the couch and, gently, dumped her there on a towel. He helped her remove her shirt, as she didn't want yet another one to be cut in half, and she laid on her stomach. The new and old gashes on her back would need some work. Some of the older ones had healed enough to forego more stitches, either way, they still hurt.

Dean took her washcloth from her, which she used on only what she could reach, and ran it under some more warm water. He came back in and Sasha already had her head down but he wanted to give her some warning before he put it on her back. She hugged a second towel to her chest to cover herself there so that nothing obstructed her back.

"How you holding up tigress?"

Sasha didn't respond, but did look at him out of the corner of her eye.

Dean put his hand on her bare shoulder and reached over to her other shoulder with the cloth, wiping up the dried blood. The newest gashes went from her shoulder, to her spine, mostly affecting her upper back, while the rest were almost evenly distributed along the middle of her spine. It didn't matter much to Sasha where they were, her skin was on fire from her shoulders to her lower hips.

Dean had to brush her hair out of his way when he began and he tucked it under her good shoulder. The daeva's cuts had to be sewn first to prevent her losing more blood than she had already. Sasha visibly tensed when Dean began, but as he started to get into a slow rhythm, she relaxed. A pained expression remained on her face but she was use to Dean's careful stitching now.

Sasha knew worse pain existed and she'd felt it, so she just kept breathing. She was far too exhausted to fight it. Sasha didn't know why she had to blink back a few tears though. Her bond was fresh with emotion, even though the boys tried to hide it. Sasha did what she could to ignore it.

The three gashes from the daeva were closed up now, and Dean moved on to the more shallow and healing cuts from the glass that were torn apart when Sasha shifted to go after Meg. Some could be packed with gauze and an ace wrap.

Dean had just finished stitching her back when he paused, and leaned forward to get a better look at her face.

Sasha had buried her head in a pillow but Dean continued, "Sasha? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you earlier... I was wrong. About that."

Sasha picked her head up, Dean saw why she had hidden her face, tears were threatening to spill over in her eyes. Guilt washed it's way over Dean again and he opened his mouth but no words came out. It occurred to him that the tears could either be from pain or being upset, or both.