Hi folks!

So... this is a story I simply don't know how I came up with. I just had the title and knew I would love me a little hurt Sam ;) and well, that's what it is a small one-shot written in Dean's POV, as he kinda goes into super-big-brother-mode.

Let me know what you think and... reasonable criticism is always welcome ;)

Enjoy!

Like a broken puppet

I swallow down bile as I finally manage to get to his side, looking at him – really at him – for the first time. All of this is so screwed up. I shake my head and take a deep breath to force the lump that formed in the back of my throat back down.

I'm supposed to protect him! Not let him get hurt.

He's so quiet and I'm scared to touch him for a moment. Afraid of what I would find. But I know I need to help him. Clenching my teeth, I brush away the strands of hair hiding his closed eyes from me. I rest my palm on his forehead, while my other palm rests without any pressure, on his sternum, waiting to feel the soft thu-thumb of my brother's heart. And there it is, quenching my fear with its constant and strong throb. He's still here with me. A soft sob of relief escapes my lips, as I ever so gently begin assessing the condition my brother is in.

My hands roam over his body; feeling for broken bones, hidden injuries and the like. And the moment, when I run both of my hands through his hair, running over his scalp, I hear him moan. I can feel the goose-egg and the sticky warmth under my fingers. I gently hush him while my fingers wander lower, lingering on his neck and I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding, when I don't feel any injuries to the tiny bones there. I know his back will be bruised awful though and my assumptions are confirmed when I roll him gently onto his side, let his head rest on my lap as I lift up his shirt enough to reveal what's hidden underneath it.

Another moan and a soft flutter of eyelids I can feel on my left forearm, with which I'm gently keeping his head supported, lets me know he's coming around.

I keep him on his side, his head still positioned on my lap when I see his eyes blink open, feel a shudder go through his frame followed by a small coughed sob. His hand's flailing for a second before he's able to latch onto my arm, gripping tightly, vice-like.

"Deee..." he whispers, and back is the lump in my throat. I let him keep my left arm, while my other steadies his back, as I slowly straighten my right leg to support his small frame.

Another shudder runs through his form, the grip on my left arm tightening and my now free hand comforts him by gently running through his hair.

"Shh, Sammy. 's gonna to be okay. You're going to be okay..."

"Hurts..." his voice wavers and I want to hug him. I will for everything to be okay. Right. Now.

"Where does it hurt, Sammy? Tell me." I ask him, trying to keep him aware. I feel him shudder on my lap again, another small whimper escaping him.

"Where Sammy?" I press on.

"Head..." he whispers and closes his eyes.

"No, nonono! Sammy? C'mon little brother. Stay with me, okay?"

I run the hand with which I was comforting him, over his cheek and I see his eyes snap open at the touch.

"That's it, little brother!" I encourage, trying to meet his eyes by cocking my head to the side.

"Where else does it hurt Sammy?"

He really seems to consider this, concentrates and eventually answers breathlessly.

"Dunno... legs all tingly... 'm cold Dean. Can we go home now?" he ends with a small voice.

"Shhh, just a minute. We'll go in just a minute. You just stay there and... let me handle everything, okay?"

He nods and despite everything I feel him relax into me.

I know I need to get him out of here. He's been on the ground for far too long, I can feel his damp clothes, and to be honest I'm not feeling so hot either, sitting in the mud, cradling my baby brother.

Dad will probably rip me a new one. And to be honest, if he won't do it, I'm probably gonna rip me a new one myself. I stop caressing Sam's hair and let my hand wash through my own hair.

"De..." my little brother's wavering voice snaps me out of my musings.

"Sammy?" I ask and tilt my head again to catch his eyes.

"Sick..." he mutters before he tries to suddenly struggle out of my arms and my embrace only to cry out in pain. He flops back into my arms, vomit already running over his chin, down his front, over my jacket-clad arms as he gurgles and coughs and retches all at the same time, while hot tears run down his face.

I manage to turn and support him enough that he's in a slumped position on all fours. I can feel the muscles in his stomach clench as he continues to retch and gag and cough. And then, eventually, I can feel them subside…slowly. Only his gasping and hitching breaths continue and I know now, that his head isn't the only thing hurting him.. I need to get him back to camp. Hopefully Dad's there by now.

I gently move my hands from his stomach and chest, underneath his armpits, while I maneuver myself in front of him.

He sobs as I straighten him up and use the sleeve of my already soiled jacket to clean his face a little. He trembles and I know he's right about to collapse.

I don't give him a chance to walk as I pull myself up, hoisting him as gently as possible up with me. I know it must hurt him, because he stops breathing for a few seconds, settled on my hip, his arms loosely wrapped around my neck, his head resting on my collarbone.

He grew heavy, the little twerp, and I grin slightly at this thought.

"'s okay. Just hang on little brother. Everything's gonna be okay..." and I feel him nod tiredly, his breath settling again, as he relaxes while I walk us away from that stupid ditch, in that stupid forest, with that stupid ghost, that almost killed my little brother.

.....

My arms tremble and I know we just won't gonna make it back to camp.

I stumble and feel Sam tense in my arms, and I soothe again, mutter little nonsense into my baby brother's ear, feel his breath against my chest even out and all of this is soothing me. Because as long as Sam's out, he doesn't have to feel the pain.

Suddenly, a dizzy-spell forces me to stop and I try to breathe through it and I slowly shake my head to clear the blind spots in my vision. A thought occurs to me. The backpacks. I forgot all about the backpacks.

My mouth goes dry. And I mutter a curse. How the hell could I forget about the backpacks? All important things were in there. Water, food, salt... the ghost was still on the loose.

"Damn..." I whisper quietly.

"Sam you're having a big, stupid ape as a brother." I tell him. I know he'd laugh at me and suddenly my eyes burn as I realize how I let my smaller sibling down. The worry momentarily almost tears me apart.

"A big, stupid ape, Sammy, you hear?" I whisper.

Soon after that it starts to rain. Just our luck, I contemplate as the slow drizzle dampens our clothes within minutes and I know I need to find us a spot to rest. To stay over night.

When I see the huge oak-tree with low hanging branches and thick leaves, I smile. Squaring my shoulders I lay my cheek on the top of Sam's head for a moment.

"What do you think about resting there for the night, Sammy?" I ask him softly as I walk us both over there, ducking the low hanging branches and ever so cautiously lay Sam on his side again. I shuffle out of my jacket to drape it over my slumbering brother.

I pile some leaves from under the tree, so that we will at least have an almost dry and comfortable place for the night. I carry Sam over there, situate myself at the back of the tree and pull Sam back to my chest, wrapping the jacket and my arms around him to keep him warm.

I seem to drift for a while, feeling Sam lean into me, the rough bark at my back. I try to blink away the weariness. But oddly it seems to get stronger with every passing second. My head slightly drops to one side and I shake myself awake again.

No. I won't go to sleep. Not with Sam hurt. I won't go to sleep. I wonder why Sam doesn't wake up. What happened again? I try to remember but everything seems so fuzzy and suddenly...

I must have fallen asleep because I wake up panting, with odd and scary pictures in my head. The remains of a nightmare. And it's morning again. I hear yelling and I blink, trying to clear my head, trying to evaluate the situation. I feel Sam's arms around my waist and hear his soft sobbing and recognize a voice calling out my and Sam's name, feel a warm, large hand on my neck, shaking me slightly, telling me to let go of Sam. But I won't. If I hadn't let Sam out of my sight in the first place non of this would've happen. So I hold on tightly and Sam clings to me. And I know if I let go of him, he'll be gone.

I growl as someone tries to dislodge my arms around Sam.

"Dean! C'mon buddy!" the scared voice makes my heart flutter.

"Dad..." I whisper, and the hand is back on my neck.

"C'mon buddy. You did good. Let go of Sam. I need you to let go of your brother."

Dad is here and now, that I know, I can finally let go. And I let go of Sam.

And only seconds later the warm weight on my lap is gone, replaced by the cool, dampening morning-air.

My head hurts, and I wonder for a moment how that happened. Dad will kill me if I got myself... I stop. No, I didn't get drunk... I screwed up.
My eyes snap open and I push away from the tree. But Dad's hands hold me back and he whistles.

"Hey, hey, hey! Easy son! Easy."

I'm overwhelmed by dizziness and nausea and slump back, swallow down the bitter bile and breathe through the pain in my head.

"Dad..." I whisper hoarsely.

"... I... screwed... up." I manage before everything grows hazy again. I can feel hands on my head, something stinging like hell and at some point I probably scream, because I can hear my Dad soothing me, that it's over now. That everything's going to be okay.

....

The following hours are a bit hazy. I can recall snippets of a ride to the hospital and my Dad being there, talking to the doctors. I wake up again on a small cot of the hospitals small ER room just as Dad enters the room.

He smiles as he approaches me and I want nothing more then for him to yell, scream and tell me how mad he is at me getting Sam hurt.

"Hey sport, how's your head?" he asks instead in a gentle tone and I'm suddenly scared out of my mind and the first thing that pops in my mind is Sam.

Sam as he was lying down in the ditch, limbs bent, pale and quiet... like a broken puppet.

"Sam.... is Sam..." my voice is hoarse and I can't bring myself to finish the sentence, because suddenly I can't breathe properly, but Dad is there immediately, wrapping his hands around my biceps and pulling me upright. He holds onto me as the world dances in front of my eyes and when my vision clears, he smiles.

"Shh, don't worry. You're both a little banged up. But Sam's gonna be okay. You're both gonna be okay. You did a good job there, Dean." he grins and winks at me.

"I got your discharge papers. The doctor told me I have to go easy on you until that concussion's healed. But you know..." and he shrugs, "how about we go and see your brother, huh?"

---

Sam's asleep and I learn that he got away with bruises and contusions to both, his back and hip. The doctors had been worried about his head injury, but he didn't sustain more then a mild concussion. Sam won't have to stay over night if he'll wake up soon. And we could all leave as soon as the doctors will give us the all clear.

---

That's how I end up carrying my almost-eleven-year old brother again, this time out of the hospital and back to our motel room. I simply push Dad aside the moment the wheelchair stops at the entrance of the hospital, bend down and let Sam wrap his arms around my neck.

"Lets go home…" I whisper only for him to hear, and he puts his head on my shoulder again and nods quietly, too tired for words, I know so, because I feel the same exhaustion.

END

Well... I just always have that picture of young Sam & young Dean in my mind, the one from After-School-Special... and I wanted to show Dean caring for Sam... hope I managed... TC, Lee