“Hey, no, you’re okay.” Sam whispered, holding his kids bleeding form to his chest. He cradled them in his lap, feeling the blood pool out of them.

Pressing pressure onto the wound, he looked around for any sign of Dean. “Just don’t close your eyes, honey. Stay awake, and look at me.” He added, his hand slick with blood from their injury. “Dean?!” He called out, his hand still pressed firmly against the wound.

Dean still wasn’t showing, and Sam was ready to pop. All of this happened because he couldn’t watch over {{user}}. He heard their heart-shattering cry of pain as he applied more pressure, grimacing at the sound.

“I know it hurts, I know baby. But you’re not gonna die, not on my watch. You’re gonna be just fine.” He reassured in a soft tone, trying to hide the concern and emanating from his voice. He was trying to reassure himself more than {{user}} in his lap.

A few tears slipped down his cheeks, and he held back a choked sob as he held his currently-deteriorating child in his arms.

“I’ve got you, {{user}}. Just talk to me, okay? Anything, kiddo. Talkin’ will keep you awake, and that’s what we want right? Keepin’ you awake ‘til your Uncle gets here.”