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He rarely slept these days, didn't even expect to. More often than not his dreams would twist into nightmares and he had troubles staying, let alone falling back asleep. When he didn't feel like battling fictitious monsters for some rest, he would instead spend his time in his cabin reading whatever books he could find on the island. Sam only realized he had dozed off with a book in front of him when he was awoken by a sudden thump on his doorstep. It was uncommon for anyone to come knocking at the cabin he shared with Dean and Castiel, especially at this hour of the night. His right hand flew to where he'd usually keep a loaded gun beside him in what was surely a record speed. He was both disappointed and surprised when he realized there was no firearm beside him, and if he wanted to investigate the supposed noise outside he'd likely have to do it unarmed.
The lock on the door was turned excruciatingly slowly, so as to be quiet, as if he were sneaking up on a potential attacker. But in an instant he flung the door open wide with his fists at the ready. There was no vampire, no demon, no leviathan-- well, until he heard a strained laugh at his feet. He looked down to a familiar face brought to a near unrecognisable state with various cuts, bruises, and blood spatter. Meg. It was immediately clear that even sitting against the door frame was considerably painful for her.
"Look, if it isn't Sam Winchester. My knight in shining denim." Clearly no injury was too great for her to resist a jab at a Winchester. But what exactly was he supposed to do with her? He couldn't bring her inside and tend to her wounds, she was a demon. But he couldn't very well live with himself if he just left her outside to die. Besides, he'd likely be treated like he murdered her if he let that happen. Instead, he crouched down with an exasperated sigh, pushed one arm under her back and the other under her knees, and lifted. Thankfully she was fairly light and easy to carry. Despite a grunt or curse or two, Sam knew her life was really in no immediate danger, and set her down on his bed a little less than gently. Which earned him at least one, "oh fuck you, you big clumsy moose".
"So, do you remember who did this to you?" Sam spoke a little absent-mindedly as he took his time in gathering bandages and other medical supplies they kept in the cabin. As far as he knew, Meg did little more than grumble out a name and some very colourful insults, but he couldn't quite hear the details from across the room. When he returned he sat beside her and pressed a cool alcohol swab to a cut on her cheek, earning yet another few curses hissed under her breath. Yet, her snarky sense of humour returned before he could even pull his hand away.
"So, you always skip right to the kinky part on a first date, huh?" Her tone held a certain familiar bite, that was for sure, but Sam didn't deny the waver of unsteadiness he heard as well. Speaking took real effort. "How about you be quiet, okay Meg? Whatever happened to you isn't gonna be fixed if you talk tough." He should've figured there was no chance of his words getting through to her. As he pressed another alcohol swap to a different cut, this time on her forehead (and bleeding much more profusely), she spoke again.
"Can't you just swap out with one of your Wonder Twins? This hurts like a bitch and you're really not earning yourself and brownie points for 'kindness'." In an instant she seemed to change her mind. "Nevermind. I trust Dean with that alcohol as much as I trust you with a hot chick saying she wants to run off with you. C'mon Moose, let Cas tag in and have a turn. I'm sure his tastes are vanilla enough for everyone." Sam had since given up on replying, at least until her wounds were cleaned and bandaged. After a second or two of silence she was up to speed on the situation and spoke again in a much more serious tone. "Oh what the hell, Sam? You're really gonna play silent treatment again? Like hell am I just gonna sit here while you fondle me without even putting two words in." He glanced up for a brief moment of eye contact before clearing his throat, turning away to grab more bandages.
"Yeah, because hanging around a demon in a place like this looks great. There's murders every week, Meg. Don't you think one of these days it'll be suspicious to other hunters if I'm all friendly with a demon? Look, Meg, I get it. We're here and we have to work to survive all the same crap, but I just don't want to teamed up with you." He didn't need Dean holding that over his head. He stood up, tossing bloody cotton swaps into the garbage and leaving the clean ones in a neat pile on his bed. "I'll go get Cas. I'm sure he'll be... kinda happy to see you. He'll be better at dealing with your whole 'I'm tough I'm a demon I don't need anybody' thing. Okay?" Before any protest, he was gone, out the door. It wouldn't be hard to find Castiel and explain the situation, and surely he'd return to the cabin fast enough. At least the fact that Meg was in a more stable condition was somewhat relieving.
