I am a player in the E/O drabble challenge here on and 'Water' was the challenge word one week. This was my attempt.

I trickle the water slowly from the plastic bottle across his brow, tilting his body where he leans against my hip, so that the silvery rivulets cut a swathe through the sticky blood on his face.

He is still not quite conscious, but his eyes flutter trying to find a focus and his hand squeezes my arm weakly, grounding himself.

His brother runs urgently towards us, bringing the first aid kit they seem to carry as standard in their battered old car and I wonder at what their life must be?

But I know I am glad they were here.

A couple of reviewers asked me to extend the drabble and tell a little more of the story. So here is that extended version. For those who were kind enough to review and ask for more, I hope you enjoy this.

Water - extended version.

I have always scoffed at the writer's clumsiness when I have read novel's that spit phrases like 'suddenly, it was upon her', or 'it came out of nowhere' but as the sharp keen of terror that I realized came from my own throat faded in my ears I heard the residual bare-whisper of my voice saying to the taller one of the two, "it came out of nowhere!".

Had I been capable of slapping my palm to my forehead at that juncture and screaming 'duh!', I would have but I had only just managed to stop screaming so I opted instead for sniveling in a way-too-girly-for-me fashion and shaking as I sat on the cold ground, cradling the other of my pair of saviors in my arms.

When I say 'it', it's because, even now that I have regained my modern-empowered-woman facade I am still fairly unsure what the...what word best describes it?. Ummm? Creature, I think. Yes...the creature that attacked me so suddenly (duh!) that forever-now-unforgettable night, was.

In some ways it doesn't matter really what exact shade of tonight-you-die it was, it's enough that I know it was real, that I am not, in fact, insane and that they were there to make it, and not me, the actual example of tonight-you-die!

The evening had started without promise. I had been to the movies, alone but happily so, and had lost my run-of-the-mill self for a few hours in the pop-corn strewn, sticky-floored theatre. After the show had ended, I'd exited, my head full of 3D-compugen'd-VistaVisioned nonsense and as the night was cold but clear, had opted to walk home through the park.

It had been an uneventful stroll and I was virtually in sight of my apartment when...I apologize again for this...'it was upon me'. Oh, I hear you say surly it wasn't really so sudden? You must have heard it stalking you? Didn't it rustle a few leaves, crack a twig under it's obscenely-clawed foot as it pounced?

Well, no, it didn't.

I heard nothing but the chill autumnal breeze and then the hot, slavering breath from it's fetid mouth as it engulfed me and took me thrashing and screaming to the floor, crushed to it's loathsome, deformed body.

Clearly, and very thankfully, they, my saviors, were nearby when it struck and almost as I touched down on the frosted grass they joined my pheromonal partner and I in our game of preternatural 'Twister'.

From there, I remember crabbing across the damp grass, away from the grim masculine ballet of long limbs, sharp blades and tearing claws as the two I would come to love for giving me back my life, butchered this twisted child of Hades.

It was over in either a flash...Oh Lord, forgive me for these crass cliches...or a life-time, I'm honestly not sure which but again, in a way, it doesn't really matter. That it was was dead, and I and they were not, was enough.

Then, and I know this was to protect my delicate sensibilities and not their's, the taller man...Stop a moment. Let me introduce him. He is Sam. Say Hi, Sam...pulled the coat from his back and threw it over the bloody, twitching carcass of my creature, shrouding it from my cruelly sullied gaze.

Once the dearly departed was properly dressed, he, my Sam, crouched before me...and that was some crouch because he's tall as fuck...and looked into my eyes.

"You're okay."

He said, a bit out of breath but only as much as I am if I put my socks on a bit quick and that was impressive as he had just gone twelve rounds with one of Satan's sluggers. I ask you to note too that he said 'you're ok', not 'are you okay?", thus leaving space for me to think I wasn't but just making it clear I was, in fact, okay.

And I was.

Strange huh? There I was covered in splatters of Hell-spawn but I knew I was, really, okay.

I looked calmly into his deep hazel eyes.

"You, okay..?"

I frowned, feeling I should address him by name seeing as he had just risked his life for mine and he smiled, answering my unasked question.

"Sam. And yes, I'm okay too."

So there we were, on the slowly reddening grass...I never knew warm blood flowed so quickly from a beheaded corpse...and we were all okay.

Isn't life grand?

Except...

We weren't.

All okay that is.

Not quite all of us and it was then that the other of my savior's discrete, polite but heartfelt groan interrupted our collective contentment.

"S...s...m...y?"

It wasn't really what you'd call an uber-inspiring first epithet from my second knight in shining...denim and leather...Okay, I know that doesn't really work but to be honest he did sorta shine but it was the wet blood on his clothes catching the full moon not his actual, armor. But even though it was less than articulate the cry had us both scurrying past Mr Suck-it-up-Fugly to the fallen man's side.

I need to do more introductions for you now. My second hero is Dean. I can't remember exactly when I got told he was Dean, but Dean it was and is. Hey, I was a bit distracted there but it's been a hard day so cut me some slack!

Dean was lying sorta curled in a ball on the crushed grass of their gladiatorial arena, one arm clutched to his abdomen, his face turned away from us as we skidded to our knees at his side.

My Sam's air of you're-okay calm had fled to be replaced by a jack-hammering of terror that I could feel vibrating through him as I helped him roll his brother onto his back so he could assess his needs.

Mr Suck-it-up-Fugly, my movie date from Hell had torn a gouge across Savior Two's cheek from just under his eye to his chiseled jaw and as Sam put his now-shaky hand to his brother's face the warm crimson dribbled from the cruel tear to pool in the notch of Dean's throat.

"Dean?"

Almost contained panic tightened Sam voice as he stroked gently with the back of his fingers at his brother's stubble. It was a too-often practiced gesture and I knew that this wasn't the first time this scene, or something like it, had played out in their never-normal world.

"Come on, man. Open your eyes for me."

"S...s...m?"

It was a pain-filled whisper but the older man's eyes flickered and, in the moon light, I watched as the deepest, velvet green gaze I have ever seen struggled to find it's familiar hazel sanctuary.

Sam leaned in then. I'm not sure he knew he did. It was instinct, a genetic pull to bring him into his brother's circle of need and his strong but infinitely gentle hands began a professional inventory of possible injury. It took only a moment of petting and touching for Sam to reach Dean's belly and he pulled aside the old leather coat to expose a blood-soaked arm clasped painfully tight to T-shirt cotton that had never been designed to be so red.

I gasped, I think, and watched Sam's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed repeatedly. I remember thinking that was much too much blood to be on the outside of a person.

'Dean?"

Sam weaved his head about following his brother's tight jawed pathway of pain, desperate to keep eye contact.

"Lemme see."

He gripped Dean's wrist and prized purposefully and I watched as the prone man's breathing spiked as those dilated green pools clung desperately to his brother's face.

The tear started higher on the left side of Dean's belly and ripped through his skin to curve down toward his right hip. It was deep, a few centimetres deeper and it would have eviscerated him. Sam swallowed some more as my hands flew to my mouth as he let go his brother's arm and reached toward the wound.

Dean's whimper paused Sam's exploration immediately and the single panicky-jack-hammer I had heard earlier became a whole road crew.

"H...ow...b...bad?"

My bloodied savior's hand had clamped back to the gape in his belly and his tremble was playing percussion accompaniment to Sam's road-digger concerto as his brother forced himself to smile.

"Not bad, Dean."

Sam lied and Dean's pale, tired face smiled as much as the gouge there would allow. The smile was a knowing one.

"Th...th...t...bad, huh?"

He gasped and Sam dropped his facade of nonchalance. He glanced my way and I wanted nothing more than to grab him in my arms, he was so scared but I knew it wouldn't help. He looked me over quickly.

"Can I have your jacket?"

I think I raised an eyebrow in question but when his hand tugged urgently at the fabric I shucked my coat as quickly as I could and passed it to him. He wasted no time with the explanation my quirked eyebrow demanded but simply rolled the light wool coat in his hands, fashioning a sort of thick pad as he spoke to me.

"Can you come closer?"

I shuffled toward him and he nodded me to a halt, looking back to his sibling.

"Dean?"

"M...mm?"

"I'm gonna lay you in..."

Sam eye's demanded my name.

"Hester."

Sam smiled. A real nice smile considering the blood an all.

"I'm gonna lean you in Hester's lap. Okay?"

"M...mm..."

Sam looked urgently at me then and I concentrated 'cause I wanted to get this right and I was spooked and this couldn't all be really happening. Not to me. Stuff like this didn't happen to me.

"I'm gonna ease him up and you shuffle in close so I can lay him against you. Okay?"

I nodded but I think my eyes said something like 'Holy shit!' and he stretched out his hand to my arm.

"You're okay."

That same warm, gentle blanket of alright-ness calmed me and I tossed him a flash of a smile. Then his eyes were gone back to his brother. He knelt in and reached over so he could sorta embrace Dean and I understood what I needed to do and positioned myself in readiness.

"Dean?"

Eyes fluttered in obedient enquiry.

"On three."

"S...m?"

Sam paused, watching his brother intently.

"H...urt...s..."

I watched as Sam's jaw clenched till I thought it'd squeak but instead he huffed out a little breath.

"I know, I'll be real careful. try and relax, okay?"

He held Dean's gaze for the single second it took for him to smile, the hemorrhaging man's absolute trust shining in his eyes.

"One..."

Sam's arm's tightened and Dean moaned pitifully.

"Two..."

He leaned slowly back, raising Dean from prone and Dean's hand clutched his belly convulsively as he bit down against the pain.

"Three!"

Sam shifted as gently as he could as I shuffled in, on my butt, to receive Dean into my lap. As Sam relinquished his grip he snatched up the pillow-pad he had made of my jacket and, working against all his instincts not to deliberately hurt his brother, pulled Dean's hand from the slippery wound to press the fabric hard into the grim-looking gash.

Dean screamed then. Not a butch, testosterone-governed scream like the heros in all the movies I've ever watched make. This was a hurts-too-fucking-much-to-bear, please don't, Sammy, God help me, sort of scream that I will hear reverberating in my unwilling head till the day I die and I knew that in that instant for a man like Dean to scream like that, then this was torment beyond bearing.

The scream, or maybe the look of raw symbiotic pain in Sam's eyes woke something in me...Okay, I know it should have occurred to me earlier but this whole out-of-body-ish experience had numbed my usually sharp-as-a-tack, pretty-as-a-picture brain cells...and making sure I didn't jostle my charge, I scrabbled in my jean's pocket, pulling out my cell. I stroked it to life and was poised to dial as Sam voice jolted me back to this unreal reality.

"Hester..."

I cut him off, proudly waving the little mobile situation-saver at him.

"Paramedics."

I replied by way of explanation as my fingers began to tap the glass, only to stop in my tracks as two voices, one weak, one strong but both in grim accord, denied me.

"No! No paramedics."

Sam's eyes were almost apologetic and I looked at Dean, sorta upside down as he was leaning against me, and he shook his head, determined as he was pallid.

"No, H...str."

He nodded toward Mr Suck-it-up-Fugly and the how-the-shit-would-we-explain-that vibe suddenly jumped up and bit me. My face fell, I'm sure, as I mentally folded my save-the-day superhero cape and I hung my head at my naivety.

'But..."

"I can take care of him, Hester."

Sam's voice rallied my flagging confidence and I looked back up to my boys.

"It was a good thought but we don't do cops or hospitals. They...complicate the situation too much."

I nodded my understanding.

"Just trust me. Okay?"

Confidence and resignation vied on Sam's care-worn face and I...well, I got it. They had done this before and would, no doubt, once the scars had healed, have to do this all over again to save some other happily oblivious fool like me.

I grimaced.

"You...this has happened before, hasn't it?"

They both nodded and the never-never-ever normal enormity of their lives made me sway dizzily, only to stop hastily as my sway provoked Dean's rekindled vocalization of pain. I touched his shoulder gently in both apology and sympathy as Sam started talking again.

"...Need to get a better dressing from the car and then I can carry him..."

Older brother pissy-ness interrupted.

"Can...w...walk, S...m...y."

And Sam quiesced.

"And then I can walk Dean to the car."

He corrected and Dean's profound you're-damn-straight face made me almost laugh. Almost but not really as the warm wetness I felt on my thigh where his precious blood was trickling from beneath the improvised pressure bandage, stopped it being remotely funny.

"Okay. Whatever you say."

I stuffed the phone back and watched Dean open his mouth to say something only to have a paroxysm of coughing see him writhe and curl and gasp as we both held him.

It steadied in time, leaving him hiccuping softly, tears spilling in his wide eyes and Sam looked up at me.

"Gotta get him a drink and some dressings, will you be okay while I run to our car? It's only just over there."

His head jerked towards the trees not far away and I nodded, remembering.

"I've got a bottle of water in my purse, Sam."

I said as I cast about looking for the purse I'd dropped when my demonic blind date had jumped me. Sam spotted it first, cooling it's heels in a pool of Mr Fugly's rapidly congealing blood. He leaned over...arm's longer than the proverbial piece of string, my Sammy has...and held it towards me as I rummaged in the trivial paraphernalia of my life till I found the little bottle.

I cracked the top and handed it to Sam figuring as he had Dean sorta right way up to my upside down, he'd be less likely to choke him.

'Try this, Dean but sip...don't want you puking."

Dean moaned gently at the thought and weakly took a couple of sips before blinking at Sam that he was done.

"Better?"

Dean nodded but the pallor of his handsome face didn't convince me that it really was and my heart flip-flopped at the tears of sympathy brimming in Sam's eyes.

"Gonna go get the kit from the car, Dean."

Dean was having trouble keeping his focus and we both watched as he squinted at the god-knows-how-many Sam's he was seeing.

"Su...re, Sam."

His voice was getting threadier, it's wavering a counter-pointed cadence with my escalating scared-ness but I determined to be brave as there was nothing else I could give them but that just now and I knew I owed them a shit-load more.

"I'll look after him, Sam."

I tried to sound confident even though the slight blueness of Dean's lips was making me wanna pee my pants in fear.

'H...u...ry...b...ck, S...m...y..."

Dean slurred and Sam shot me one last glance before he took off like a very, very tall, bipedal cheetah into the darkness.

"So..."

Those mesmeric green eyes were staring my way, his head tipped back in my lap and I knew that had gotta be disorienting for him but anyway he smiled and even though half his face is difficult to really see, smeared as his pale skin is in his own fresh blood, I know it's a lady-killer of a smile.

"So?"

I tossed back at him, matching his lop-sided grin with my own.

"Nice...t...meet...ya...Hster."

He drawled as his beautiful eyes fluttered closed and I carefully wrapped him in my arms, willing my Sammy to run like the wind.

I trickle the water slowly from the plastic bottle across his brow, tilting his body where he leans against my hip, so that the silvery rivulets cut a swathe through the sticky blood on his face.

He is still not quite conscious, but his eyes flutter trying to find a focus and his hand squeezes my arm weakly, grounding himself.

His brother runs urgently towards us, bringing the first aid kit they seem to carry as standard in their battered old car and I wonder at what their life must be?

But I know I am glad they were here.

Ends