Written by: KariGorsuch

As we pulled away from the bar, the tension in the Impala was almost suffocating. I sat in the backseat with Eve's head resting on my lap, her shallow breathing the only sound breaking the heavy silence. My mind flashed back to just a few days go, where we were in a similar position. My hand bruised her damp hair from her face, my other hand clutching hers tightly as if I could keep her anchored here through sheer willpower.

Dean drove like a man on a mission, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. His jaw was set so tightly I thought it might crack. Sam sat in the passenger seat, his gaze flicking between Dean and the road ahead, ever the quiet observer. But even he couldn't hide the worry etched on his face.

Eve stirred slightly, her head shifting against me. "Shh, it's okay," I murmured, smoothing her hair back. "You're safe now. We've got you."

Her lips moved, but no sound came out. It didn't matter; I wasn't sure she could hear me anyway. She was too far gone, too deep in whatever storm was raging inside her. My chest tightened at the thought of how close we'd come to losing her. The image of her crumpled on the ground, struggling to breath, was burned into my mind.

Dean's voice cut through the quiet, low and steady. "How is she?"

I glanced up, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. They were dark, stormy, filled with something raw that I wasn't used to seeing. "She's hanging on," I replied softly. "But barely."

His grip on the wheel tightened, and his gaze flicked back to the road. "She wanted to come home," he muttered, almost to himself. "No hospitals."

Sam signed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Dean, she might need one. We're not doctors."

"I know that!" Dean snapped, then exhaled heavily, his voice softer when he continued. "I know. But I'm not dragging her somewhere she doesn't want to go unless it's life or death."

"Because she's totally in the best state to make that call," Sam muttered under his breath, but he didn't push farther.

I could feel the car's tension ratchet up with every passing mile. Every bump in the road made Eve wince in her sleep, and each one felt like a fresh blow to all of us. Dean's jaw twitched every time she flinched, his knuckles flexing on the steering wheel.

When we finally pulled into the hotel parking lot, relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. The reality of what we needed to do hit me hard. Sam was out of the car first, opening the door and helping me maneuver Eve out gently.

Dean was there in an instant, his hands steady as he took her from me. "I've got her," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

I didn't argue- I couldn't. The strain of maneuvering Eve from the backseat leaving me breathless and shaky. Leaning back against the Impala for a moment, I held my ribs and tried to catch my breath. I barely had time to process what was happening before the coughing fit hit me, sharp and relentlyss, tearing through my chest like a claw. Each spasm sent a jolt of pain through my ribs, leaving me gasping for air. My hand instinctively gripped the side of the Impala for support, my knees trembling under the strain.

"Bri?" Sam's voice cut through the haze, his concern evident. "Hey- hey, you're okay."

Sam's voice grounded me, pulling me back from the edge of panic as the coughing subsided. I waved a shaky hand at him, still leaning heavily against the Impala. "I'm fine," I croaked, though my body betrayed me with another sharp jolt of pain when I tried to straighten.

"Fine? You can barely stand," Sam countered, her brows furrowing as he stepped closer. His hand hovered near my arm, ready to fetch me if I faltered. "Jared assaulted you, Bri. He was choking you."

"I'm aware," I rasped between shallow breaths, each word scraping against my raw throat. Another cough racked my body, making me wince as the pain radiated from my ribs. I could feel Sam's steady presence beside me, his concern palpable.

"Bri," Sam said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of worry and frustration. "You can't just brush this off. You insisted your ribs were fine after the hunt, but I'm willing to bet that's not the case."

Leaning against the Impala, I pressed a hand to my ribs and squeezed my eyes shut, willing the pain to subside. The throbbing ache radiating from my side, coupled with the raw sting in my throat, made it hard thi think- let alone argue. I knew Sam was right, but I wasn't ready to admit it. Not when Eve needed help and Dean was already barely olding it together.

"I'll be fine," I snapped, my voice hoarse and thin. My free hand gripped the car for stability, but I could feel my legs trembling beneath me. "Eve's worse off. Focus on her."

Sam crossed his arms, his expression hardening. "Don't do that. Don't downplay this. You're hurt, Bri, and if you keep pushing yourself, you're going to collapse- or worse."

I opened my mouth to protest, but another coughing fit tore through me, cutting me off. This one was worse than the last, leaving me doubled over, gasping for air.

Before I could continue to argue, Dean's voice cut through the tenesion. "What's going on?"

I looked up to see that he had paused outside of the motel's door, Eve cradled in his arms. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene- me leaning heavily against the car, struggling to catch my breath, and Sam standing protectively at my side. "I'm fi-"

"She's not fine. She's been pretending like she's fine since the hunt."I glared at Sam as he cut me off. Out of spite, I pushed off the Impala and started to head towards Dean.

Dean's eyes darkened, his gaze flicking between Sam and me. Even with Eve limp in his arms, his presence was commanding, a mixture of anger and concern radiating off him. "Bri, stop." he ordered, his voice low and firm.

I froze mid-step, unwilling to meet his eyes. "I said I'm fine," I rasped, my voice raw.

Dean's jaw tightened, his knuckles flexing slightly where they gripped Eve. "You're not fine," he said sharply, his eyes flicking down to the bruises already starting to appear around my neck. "Sam, get her inside. Now."

Sam's hand hovered near my arm, but I shrugged him off, biting back the wave of dizziness that followed. "I can walk," I muttered stubbornly. My body betrayed me the moment the words were out of my mouth, as my knee buckled and I stumbled. Sam's hands were on me in an instant, steadying me before I could hit the ground. A frustrated growl escaped my lips as I clung to his arm, my pride stinging just as much as my ribs.

Sam's arms wrapped around me before I even had a chance to fully comprehend what was happening. One moment, I was standing on shaky legs, trying to prove that I was okay, and the next I was being swept off my feet, cradled against Sam's chest. "Sam, I-"

"If the next words out of your mouth are 'I'm fine', I swear to God, Bri, I'm going to lose it," Sam muttered under his breath, his voice thick with frustration and something deeper, something protective. I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off, his grip tightening as he adjusted me against him. Joining Dean at the lobby doors, he glanced down. "No more excuses."

I couldn't help the small groan that escaped my lips with each step Sam took. The pain was nearly unbearable, but I was too stubborn to admit it. I wanted to prove that I could handle this—that I didn't need anyone to carry me. But my body was already betraying me. Every jolt sent waves of agony coursing through me, my ribs protesting, and I could feel my breath growing shallow. "I don't need this, Sam," I muttered, my breath hitching slightly with every step. "I can walk."

"Not a chance." His voice was firm, even with the undercurrent of frustration in it. He shouldered the lobby door open, crossing the blessedly empty lobby to the elevator, Dean right behind him. Eve had shifted in his arms, her face tucked into his neck.

I pressed my face into Sam's chest, trying to ignore the ache that pulsed through my ribs with every movement. I hated this—hated feeling helpless, and yet here I was, being carried by Sam to our hotel room.

"You don't have to do this," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, but Sam didn't even seem to hear me. His grim adjusted, tucking me more firmly against his chest as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. His broad chest rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths, the tension in his body telling me that this wasn't something he was willing to continue to argue about. The elevator doors slid closed, the quiet hum of the machinery doing little to dull the storm of emotions.

I shifted a little as the elevator came to a stop on our floor, trying to alleviate the pressure on my ribs, but it only made the pain more acute. Sam's grip tightened slightly, unintentionally putting pressure, and I couldn't stop the gasp of pain that escaped my mouth. Sam faltered, the muscles in his arm tensing like he was trying to rein in his frustration. Stepping out into the hallway, Sam led the way to our room. There was a moment of awkward struggle as Sam dug the keycard out of his pocket and unlocked the room.

After a moment, the lock clicked open, and Sam kicked the door open with ease. Ducking inside of the room, Sam held the door for Dean to enter. I peered over Sam's shoulder at Eve, who hadn't moved from tucking her face into Dean's neck. I watched as Dean shifted her in his arms, laying her down on his bed.

I lost sight of Eve for a moment when Sam turned back around to make sure that the room door shut and locked. He then brought me to the second bed, settling me down on my feet before making me sit. "I told you, I could've walked," I muttered, though my words held no real conviction.

Sam sighed in frustration, although he chose not to reply. Gesturing to the hem of my shirt, he locked eyes with me. "Take it off."

I hesitated, my gaze flickering over to Dean, even though he was focused on taking care of Eve. Sam caught my gaze, then stepped in front of me, blocking Dean from sight. Leaning over slightly, he cupped my cheek. "Either you take it off, or I cut it off. Your choice."

My breath caught, and I pulled back ever so slightly, fear creeping in. "And if I said 'No.'?"

Sam froze, reeling back. "If you say 'No,'" he began, his voice low but steady. "I'll respect that. I won't force you. But I can't help you if you won't let me."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. Sam's words weren't harsh or demanding, but there was something in the way he spoke that made it clear how much he cared. He wasn't trying to hurt me—he was just trying to help. And yet, the idea of being so vulnerable, of allowing him to take control in this way, made me tense.

My fingers twisted the fabric of my shirt nervously, uncertainty gnawing at me. I didn't want to be a burden. I didn't want to seem weak, but the pain coursing through my body made it hard to ignore. Sam was right; I needed help. Hell, I knew I needed help right after the hunt. It just wasn't in me to ask for it.

I took a shaky breath, my hand trembling as I reached for the hem of my shirt. Slowly, I pulled it over my head, revealing my light blue bra, wincing at the movement. The fabric finally came off over my head, but the pain from my ribs flared up sharply. I gasped, dropping the shirt, not caring where it fell- to clutch at my side.

"Easy, Bri." Sam stepped in, his hands steady as he held my shoulders to prevent me from curling up protectively. When the spasm passed and my muscles loosened, he continued. "Let me see."

I nodded slowly, dropping my hand. Sam leaned in, the warmth of his hands steady on my shoulders. "I need you to stay as still as you can, okay? This is going to hurt- but I have to check."

I nodded again, not trusting my voice. His fingers were as gentle as he could be, tracing the dark bruise covering my right side. His brows furrowed, fingers lingering in the middle of the bruise. Sam glanced up, meeting my eyes. "Take a breath and hold it."

I drew a breath and held it, my heart racing. Sam's gaze was steady, but there was a faint flicker of concern in his eyes as he gently pressed against the bruise. The tenderness of his touch was comforting, but the pain that shot through me was sharp and immediate, causing me to flinch.

"Hold it, Bri," he repeated softly, his voice calm but firm.

I did as he asked, holding my breath as I tried to focus on something—anything other than the burning pressure in my side. I could feel his fingers testing for something deeper, something more than just the surface bruise. My muscles tensed again, but Sam's hands didn't falter, his touch never wavering.

When he finally withdrew his hand, I exhaled shakily, my body relaxing slightly from the tension.

"It's not broken," Sam murmured, his voice calm but with that unmistakable undertone of relief. "But I think it's cracked. Can Dean take a look?"

I nodded, not meeting his gaze. I looked past him, to where Dean was setting down the washcloth he had been using to wash Eve's face.

Dean, who was still sitting beside Eve on the bed, glanced up as Sam approached, his face etched with concern, his brows furrowed. Sam gestured to me with a tilt of his head, his voice low as he spoke, though I couldn't quite make out the words.

Dean nodded and moved toward me, pausing in front of me. "Bri," he waited until I met his gaze before continuing. "Mind if I take a look?"

I swallowed, suddenly feeling way too exposed, even though his eyes respectfully stayed on mine. "...yeah."

He nodded once, his expression softening before he kneeled in front of my legs. His touch stayed professional, out of respect for his brother, the situation, or Eve, I don't know but I hoped it was the last.

Dean's fingers pressed lightly against the bruised area, testing the damage with a precision that left me both grateful and painfully aware of every injury. His eyes didn't leave mine as he worked, and I could see the concern there, for me.

I couldn't hold his gaze any longer, and I dropped it to the bed beside me. "Definitely cracked," he spoke, addressing me but making sure Sam heard as well. "They need to be wrapped. It's going to suck, but it needs to happen. Eve needs you."

I swallowed slowly, my chest tightening at the mention of Eve's name. The thought of her made me want to push everything to the back of my mind. "Sam-"

"Already got them," Sam replied, dropping a roll of bandages onto the bed next to me. Dean nodded, standing and returning to Eve's side. "Whenever you're ready, Bri."

"Alright," I muttered quietly, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I pulled the bandages close, my fingers trembling as I started to unroll them. I could feel Sam's gaze on me, steady and unwavering, but it didn't comfort me the way it usually did. It just reminded me of how much more there was to do—how much more I couldn't do while I was hurting.

Dean's words kept echoing in my head: Eve needs you. I couldn't be weak. I couldn't let the pain win.

With a final glance at Sam, I positioned myself to wrap the bandages around my side. I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my breaths steady as I applied the pressure. The sharp sting of it shot through me, my hands trembled, and I dropped the bandage.

They fell onto the bed beside me, and for a moment I just sat there, breathing through the pain, trying not to let the frustration overwhelm me. My vision blurred for a second, unshed tears trying to escape.

"Bri," Sam's voice was low and gentle, "Let me."

I hesitated for a moment, then held the wrap out to him. I knew I wasn't going to be able to do it alone. It didn't take him long to finish, his hands moving with the kind of precision that made it clear that he's done this before. When he finished, he held out a shirt that was clearly not mine.

I glanced at the shirt in Sam's hands, his expression gentle, but there was a quiet urgency behind his eyes. It was an old, faded black t-shirt, probably one of his. I hesitated, still not quite ready to expose myself further, but then I saw the concern in his gaze—he was waiting for me to let go of my pride, to let him help.

I sighed softly, my shoulders sagging under the weight of everything. The pain from my side still throbbed, but I knew it wasn't worth fighting him anymore. I took the shirt from Sam, offering a small, silent thanks as I slipped it over my head. The fabric was a bit too large, hanging loose on my frame, but it felt comfortable and a little soothing against my sore skin.

When I finished adjusting it, I finally met Sam's eyes again. He had already moved back to the edge of the bed, but he was still close enough to make sure I didn't need anything else. His expression softened, the worry still lingering in his gaze.

"Better?" he asked quietly. I nodded, sliding back on the bed to slip under the covers. A few seconds later and I shoved my jeans out from under the covers, letting them fall to the floor. I wrestled with myself for a moment before reaching out to Sam.

Sam looked up when I reached out, his brows furrowing slightly as if unsure of what I needed. I kept my hand outstretched, the weight of my request hanging in the air. He slowly stepped closer, his hand resting gently in mine, offering a steady presence that I could hold onto. Tugging on his hand, I gestured to the empty space on the bed next to me. "Bri- no-"

Sam's voice faltered as he glanced at me, his expression torn between concern and something softer, a hesitation that only seemed to make the silence heavier. He wasn't sure what I needed, what I was asking of him, and I couldn't blame him for it.

I swallowed, the vulnerability of the moment settling in around me like a weight I couldn't shake. "I just... need you here," I whispered, the words coming out quieter than I intended.