Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sam keeps his eyes on the gun he’s cleaning as John yells in the other room. Dean is sitting next to him, also trying to ignore it. Neither of them acknowledge that their dad is throwing a tantrum in the other room over not being able to find one specific knife. They both know it’s only a matter of time before he comes into the room with them, and blames them for doing something with it, but Sam hopes that he finds it before it comes to that.

No such luck though, and it’s only a few minutes before John comes in, red in the face. He starts screaming immediately. Sam doesn’t really listen, because he doesn’t know where the knife is, but he knows how badly this is going to impact their hunt tonight regardless. Going on a hunt with their dad is stressful enough, but when he’s mad, it’s horrible. He makes things as hard as possible, and leaves Sam and Dean to clean everything up.

Dean is obviously trying to placate John even though he has no idea where the stupid thing is either. John eventually turns to Sam.

“And why aren’t you saying anything, you smartass?”

“I don’t know where your knife is, Dad.”

“Well get your sorry ass up, and look for it! You’re the scatterbrained one that always misplaces everything.”

Sam stands up, puts the gun back together, then places it gently on the bed. He goes into the other room, and starts digging around for the knife. After a few minutes, he knicks his finger on the knife, which was under the bed.

“Ow, shit.”

He grabs the first aid kit before heading back into the other room. He offers the knife to John, who frowns at him.

“You did know where it was! That’s the only way you could have found it that fast. You are in so much trouble.”

Sam ignores him, sitting down to clean his finger, and get a bandaid on it.

“Samuel Winchester, you listen to me.”

“I am listening, Dad. I just don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Apologize for messing with me.”

“No, I didn’t do anything with your knife. I just looked in the places where you lose things the most.”

John glares at him, but storms back into the other room.

“You should have just agreed with him,” Dean says softly, looking up at Sam.

“Why? I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t have to go find his shit for him, but I did. Then he yelled at me. I didn’t hide his knife.”

“I know you didn’t, but it makes him easier to deal with.”

“Yeah, then I can be Dad’s pet.”

Dean sighs and looks back down, done fighting already. Sam’s quietly relieved, not really wanting to fight either. They don’t talk again until it’s time to get ready for the hunt.

“So, what are we actually going out to find?” Sam asks.

“I think it’s just a regular poltergeist.”

Sam hums, stuffing his gun into his bag.

“Dad wants you to be the lookout again. It’s a cabin in the woods, so he’s going to drop you off about a mile before we get there so you can watch for the cops.”

Sam nods. That’s all John ever trusts him to do anyway, so he’s not surprised. The ride is quiet and tense too. John is obviously still angry though Sam is trying to ignore him. Sam gets dropped off a mile away from the cabin into the dark, quiet woods.

He leans against a tree, staring at the road from his spot just far enough away that no one would be able to see him if they drove past. Not that anyone should be driving down this secluded road anyway. The only reason they’re out there is because stupid kids kept daring each other to go to the haunted cabin.

Thirty minutes pass before Sam starts to wonder what’s taking Dean and John so long. He starts nervously checking his gun, fidgeting with the knife strapped to his hip. Then he hears gunshots going off. They sound closer than they should, so he stays light on his feet.

Questions are swirling in his mind. What could have possibly gone wrong? Why are they still gone? I hope Dean is ok.

His eyes scan the treeline, looking for anyone, but it’s too dark to see. He can’t hear any leaves crunching, or branches snapping, so he looks back to the road. Sam hears another gunshot, but this one sounds a little bit closer. He can hear people shouting, but it’s definitely not Dean, or John. Sam doesn’t recognize the voice, so he ducks closer to the road.

More shots ring out, and Sam strains his ears to hear exactly what’s going on to no avail. Flashing red and blue lights turn the bend, and Sam runs towards the cabin.

I have to tell Dean and Dad that the police are here.

He’s getting closer to the gunshots, but not close enough to see anything when he feels something hit his abdomen. He looks down, surprised.

A stray shot hit me?

Blood flows down his shirt, and his legs go out from under him. He hits a tree on the way down, pain lighting up his side as he scrapes the bark. His head is spinning, and he throws up. The gunshots are dying down, and he can hear the policemen yelling something. He’s too far gone to tell what they’re saying, so he just lets it go.

Dean ducks behind a tree.

“How did we not realize that the police were here when we got here? I can’t believe we fired weapons with cops nearby,” he hisses as John reloads his gun.

“Yeah, well, I still want to try to get the ghost.”

“If we try to go back right now, we’re going to get shot.”

“No we won’t. Just come on.”

They don’t even make it to the cabin before they’re spotted again. Shots are fired immediately, and they end up going back the way they came from.

“We’ll go down this way, then loop back around to the car once we get them off our tails,” John whispers, and Dean nods while John’s still looking at him.

It takes a while to shake off their police tails, but when they do, they loop back around to the car.

“Ok, now we just have to pick up Sam, and get back to the hotel,” Dean says, tossing his gun in the back.

“Yep.”

John drives back to where they left Sam, but he’s nowhere in sight. John barely stops to look before starting the car again.

“Where are you going?”

“He’s not where we left him, and we can’t risk getting out to look for him. Worst case scenario is the police find him, and we have to bail him out. He deserves this, Dean. He didn’t tell us that the cops were coming. He didn’t even tell us when their reinforcements showed up.”

“I still think they were at the cabin when we got there, Dad. That’s not his fault. We have to turn around.”

“No, we don’t. Think of it like this, sitting in jail for a few hours is going to be his punishment for not letting us know that reinforcements showed up.”

Dean looks unhappy, but nods.

“I guess if you really don’t think it’s safe for us to go find him.”

“It’s not. If we go find him, and they find us, they might shoot him too. Since he hasn’t been with us, he shouldn’t have any issues.”

“Ok, Dad. Are we going to the police station tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, since they didn’t see our faces, we’re going to report him missing, and say that he ran off with some of his friends. Teenagers do that. Then they’ll think that all of them were there goofing off. As serious as having a firearm is, we should be able to get him out.”

Dean nods, though he still looks a little unsure. They drive back to the hotel, and make sure that all of their weapons are hidden before settling down for the night.

Chapter Text

Sam wakes up to a fire in his stomach. It’s dark, and he can feel something crunchy underneath any bare skin. His mind is running awfully slow, and it takes him a lot longer to realize what’s going on than it should. 

The woods. I was shot. 

He shifts, trying to climb to his feet, but it only aggravates his wounds. Sam’s vision whites out as the pain takes over everything. He’s not sure how long it takes for his brain to start working again, but when it does, he decides to take a different approach. He starts trying to crawl in the general direction of the road. The twigs scrape his arms, the fire moving from his stomach to his chest and legs. Numbness is quick to follow, which most normal people would be happy for. Sam can’t help but start to panic. 

If I don’t get to the road, I’m going to bleed out in the middle of nowhere. There will be zero chance of anyone finding me since Dad and Dean obviously aren’t coming back. But if I keep going, it might lead to permanent damage. I guess that’s better than dead, but what will Dad do? What if it hit close to my spine? 

Sam sobs, his breath catching even more. It sends him into a coughing fit, and his vision only fades more with each choking gasp. He can’t even see far enough to realize that he’s almost at the road, and it’s in sight now. Not that it matters since he passes out, still unable to pull enough air into his lungs. 

Dean can’t sleep. It doesn’t matter how long he lays in bed. John is asleep by then, and Dean knows that he should try to sleep too. The idea of Sammy being lost in the woods continues to haunt him though. 

I know he can survive out there by himself. I should trust him, but what if something happened? What if the cops did find him, and they’re hurting him? 

Dean creeps out of bed. He’s still dressed from earlier, having changed into jeans and a t-shirt after his shower. He sneaks over to the door, grabbing his dad’s keys on the way over. He’s as quiet as possible until he’s driving out of the parking lot. At that point, even if John does wake up, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop Dean. 

Alright, game plan… What's my game plan? What if the police are still there? I guess I’ll just drive close to where we dropped Sammy off, and leave the car. Then I can look for him, and if the cops are still there, I’m just going to say that I’m looking for my little brother. It should work since they didn’t see my face earlier, and it isn’t even a lie. I could definitely get away with it. I mean, who wouldn’t be worried if they thought their brother ran away to the woods? 

Dean stops the car less than a mile away from where he left Sam earlier. It’s oddly quiet, and there aren’t any signs of the cops either. So, Dean starts by wandering near the treeline to see if Sam might have hid when the police showed up. After that, he heads back to where they dropped Sam off to see if he can pick up Sam’s trail. It’s pretty hard at first since it seemed he was trying not to leave footprints. However, he eventually finds a spot where it seems like Sam just took off running. So, he follows it, and freezes when he finds where it stopped. 

There’s a lot of blood seeping through the leaves, and there’s vomit nearby too. Dean can practically feel his heart stop when he sees it, and he has to take a few precious seconds to compose himself. Almost in a haze, he follows the trail from there. It’s obvious, because it looks like someone was dragging themselves across the ground. 

I don’t want anyone to be hurt, but please let this not have been Sammy. I don’t think I could handle it if something happened to him. It would be my fault. We left him here. It would explain why he wasn’t where we left him, and he didn’t try to find us. 

Dean shakes his head, pushing the thoughts out of his mind. He continues following the trail, which goes for way longer than anyone should be able to drag themselves after being shot. It reaches almost to the road, a dark figure laying prone at the end of it. Dean throws himself down, not even having to flip him over to know that it’s his brother. He does though, and almost throws up immediately. Blood is smeared across Sam’s face, which is as white as porcelain. Blood covers his clothes, and Dean can’t immediately tell if his chest is rising and falling. 

“Sammy?” he whispers, resting a hand gently on Sam’s chest. His other hand rests right above his pulse point as if he’s scared to even check. 

However, Sam’s chest continues to gently rise and fall under Dean’s hand. It’s hard for him to keep track of even with the close proximity. 

“Ok, you’re going to be fine, Sammy,” Dean whispers, his throat starting to feel like it’s closing up. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing 911. He pulls Sam’s shirt up to see if he can tell the damage. His heart only sinks more when he sees the bullet wound in Sam’s abdomen. He pulls his jacket off, and presses it to wound as the call connects. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

“My brother was shot. I went to find him in the woods, and he’s covered in blood. He’s unresponsive, and it looks like he was hit in the abdomen.” He gives her the road, and about how far down the road, and how far into the woods they are.

“Alright, we have an ambulance on their way down there right now.” 

Dean hums, slipping the knife and strap off of Sam. He ends up grabbing his gun too. Then he races back to the car, throws both things in there. Then he grabs the first aid kit, and runs back to Sam. He’s still unresponsive, and Dean is too scared to do anything other than try to stop the bleeding. Tears drip down his face as Sam remains unresponsive underneath his hands. It feels like forever before he can hear sirens screaming down the road. 

The paramedics don’t take long to find them since Dean gave pretty specific instructions. Dean’s vision is going in and out, and his hold on consciousness is already fading. He’s completely disassociating by the time the ambulance has left. Then someone’s hand lands on his shoulder, and he jumps. 

“Hey, kid.” It’s one of the paramedics, who obviously stayed back. “Hey, they’re getting your brother to the hospital. I’m gonna stay here to take care of you. The police should be here soon. Can you walk with me back to your car?” 

Dean nods, the numb feeling still taking over his entire being. Once they get there, the paramedic puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder again. 

“Ok, my name is George. What’s yours?” 

“Dean.” 

“And your brother? Full name please.” 

“Samuel Winchester.” 

“Ok, and how old are you and your brother?” 

“Sammy’s only thirteen. I’m seventeen.” 

“Ok, and where are your parents?” 

“Dad’s still at the motel. He wasn’t worried about Sammy running off. It’s just us and our dad.” 

“Ok, well, either you can call your dad, or we can wait for the police to show up. Then they can call him after they talk to you. They’re going to want some answers, and I can tell how shaken up you are. I think you should call your dad, but I won’t make you.” 

Dean nods, reaching for his phone with bloody fingers. He shakily dials his dad’s number, putting it up to his ear with a sigh. John answers on the last ring. He sounds tired and annoyed. 

“Where are you, Dean?” 

“I went looking for Sammy. I was worried.” 

Dean stops to take a breath, trying not to sob. 

“I told you to leave it,” John growls. 

“He was shot sometime last night. He’d been lying in the forest for hours alone, and bleeding out. They took him to the hospital, but he looked so bad, Dad. He was still bleeding, and he wasn’t responding.” 

Dean sobs, unable to keep himself together anymore. Especially not with the view of Sam’s almost dead face lingering in his mind. John is silent for a few seconds. 

Then he says, “Dean, you need to calm down. I’ll be there in just a minute. The police aren’t there yet, are they? You haven’t said anything?” 

“Dad, Sammy is dying. You have to get down to the hospital right now!” Dean screams, continuing to cry. 

“Dean.” 

“The cops aren’t here yet.” 

“Ok, don’t say anything until I get there.” 

John hangs up before Dean can say anything else. So, he just continues crying, finding it harder to breathe. A hand lands on his shoulder again, and it’s barely enough to start to pull Dean back. He still doesn’t fully come back into himself until John kneels down in front of him. It takes him a second to realize that he’s on the ground. He throws his arms around John with a sob even though this man caused a lot of his grief. 

“Shhh.” 

“How did you even get here? I took your car.” 

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s ok. It’s all going to be ok.” 

“No it’s not. You didn’t see him. He was-” Dean pulls away from John, rage pulsing through him. “This is your fault!” he screams, pushing John back. 

John looks surprised. That’s when Dean notices that there are cops a few feet away, and they’re all looking at this scene with suspicious faces. Dean looks down. 

“Alright, let’s get your statements now. Mr. Winchester, why was your son alone in the woods during a police raid of a suspicious building?” One of the cops asks, stepping forward. 

“I’m not sure. I don’t think he knew about the police being there. He and I don’t always get along. We butt heads, especially since his mother died. It was a few years ago, and we’ve had a hard time seeing eye to eye since then. Because of that, he’s run away a few times before. Sammy has always been… more free spirited. I taught them how to camp, hike, and anything else that I thought they might need to know. When he runs away, he normally goes to some kind of forest, usually somewhere secluded. 

He didn’t know. My Sammy is normally really careful, and so I can’t imagine him putting himself into harm’s way for any reason aside from saving someone else. He’s a good kid.” 

“Then why did your other kid say it was your fault?” he asks, though it sounds more like he’s directing the question to Dean. 

Dean looks down. “We split up to look for him, but this was the first time that we couldn’t find him. I said we should go to the police, and Dad said we couldn’t do that till morning. He said that since we know he ran away, you couldn’t do anything. Didn’t think you would be able to do anything even then since he only ran away last night,” Dean explains, his voice thick. 

The cop hums, turning back to John. “Well, is that true?” 

“Yes. I didn’t think you would help. We were looking for him, but I didn’t think he was in any danger. Again, Sammy is a pretty safe kid. Not only that, he’s capable of defending himself. I never would have imagined that something like this would happen.” 

“Alright, well, we’ll have more questions later. For now, you should head down to the hospital.” 

John nods, pulling Dean with him to the Impala. 

Dean grips Sam’s hand, maybe harder than he should. He doesn’t think about it though. After all, the only things he can think about is how pale, still, and broken his brother looks. Sam’s hair is sticking to his forehead, and his eyes are stubbornly still closed. Not that Dean expected them to open any time soon, but the thought is enough to send him into hysterics again if he lets himself legitimately think about it. 

John is outside, talking to the doctor. Dean had half a mind to follow him, to hear everything the doctor says, because John might not tell him everything. However, he couldn’t make himself move from Sam’s side. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his baby brother, who is laying and dying in a hospital bed. 

You were alone in the woods for hours, and I won’t let you be alone here. I swear that I am going to be here for you, and I won’t leave you. 

“I’m so sorry, Sammy. I shouldn’t have let him talk me into leaving you there. I knew there had to have been a reason that you didn’t tell us. You wouldn’t put our lives at risk just to be petty. I’m so sorry,” Dean says, choking up again. 

Tears fill his eyes, and he puts his head against his and Sam’s hands. He continues whispering reassurances into Sam’s hand, trying to calm himself down, despite how obviously useless it is. He’s gone quiet by the time John comes back in. He sits down heavily in a chair across from Dean. He looks tired and annoyed. Dean ignores him, because this is still his fault. As much as Dean feels like he failed, he feels like John failed so much worse. 

“How long are you going to ignore me?” John asks, his tone and face set in anger. 

“All of this happened because of that knife, didn’t it? You wanted to risk leaving Sammy, because you were mad. You risked his life for something he didn’t do. It’s the fact that you’re a grown ass man, and you have the emotional maturity of a toddler. You blame us for everything. More often than not, you blame Sammy. You blame Sammy, because he won’t put up with you the way I will. You let this happen to him just to be spiteful.” 

“I didn’t know this was going to happen. I had no way of knowing this was going to happen. Either way, it wasn’t about the stupid knife.” 

“Sure it was. You just don’t want to admit that now. It was different saying that you left your kid in jail for ‘yanking your chain’, but it’s another thing to let your child bleed out in a forest alone for the same reason. ‘I didn’t know’ isn’t good enough, Dad. He’s dying, and it’s your fault. You don’t even feel bad either.” 

John stands up, glaring at Dean with enough intensity to break anyone else. 

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me he’s not dying. Please tell me that he’s not dying,” Dean whispers, gripping Sam’s hand tighter. 

John’s face falls, and he drops back down. It’s almost like he just remembered that he had something more important to worry about. 

“They think the bullet shifted enough while he was trying to get to the road that it might have damaged his spine. We can’t be sure how that’s going to affect him until he wakes up, but he’s also at high risk for infection. All we can do now is wait and hope for the best,” John says, his gaze returning to the floor. 

The only thing keeping Dean from flying off of the handle is Sam’s cold hand still resting in his own hands. He presses a kiss to the back of Sam’s hand, his eyes full of tears. He doesn’t stop them, too tired and scared to pretend to be strong. 

Dean drops his bag near the door of the motel room with a sigh. He stayed at the hospital for two days waiting for Sam to wake up. Instead, Sam ended up with an infection, and Dean was left on edge as Sam’s body struggled to fight off the infection. He’s only here because John kicked him out, and told him to get some sleep. His dull eyes wander around the room before he heads to get a shower. Everything is exactly as it was when Dean left the other night, so he drops onto his messy bed once he’s done showering. He closes his eyes for just a second before his phone starts ringing. 

“Hello?” Dean asks, not even looking at the number. 

“Hey, I’m calling to check in. Your dad hasn’t been answering, and I tried calling Sammy a few minutes ago. I couldn’t get through to either of them, so I assume there’s an explanation for that,” Bobby says, sounding concerned. 

“Oh, yeah.” Dean sighs, closing his eyes again. 

He can hear Bobby’s breath catch, even more worried by Dean’s response. 

“Sam got hurt. He’s been in the hospital for a couple of days now. That’s probably why Dad isn’t answering either. He’s avoiding you.” 

“What did he do? Why wouldn’t he have just told me what happened? Is Sammy alright?”

“No, he’s not. He was shot in the woods two nights ago, and we left him there. I came back early the next morning even though Dad insisted that I shouldn’t. So, yeah, Sammy’s in the hospital, and we have no idea what’s going to happen. Dad probably didn’t call you, because he didn’t want to take responsibility for his actions. He can’t seem to accept that they hurt other people, specifically his sons.” Dean himself is surprised by how hard his voice is. 

Bobby is quiet on the other end of the phone till he clears his throat. 

“Ok, Dean, can you tell me exactly what’s wrong with Sam?” 

“He was shot in the stomach. Apparently there were complications that led to him developing sepsis. He wasn’t doing too well when I left the hospital an hour ago. I don’t know what to do, Bobby.” 

Dean sniffles, rubbing his nose harshly. 

“It’s alright, son. I’ll be there as soon as I can. We can stay on the phone if you want to.” 

“No, I’m going to take a nap. See if I can get some sleep. Can you come by the motel? To be honest, I’m not even sure I should have driven here. I can just stay here until you can come pick me up.” 

“Yeah, just tell me the name of the motel, and I’ll pick you up on my way over.” 

Dean offers him the name before hanging up without even saying bye. He ends up falling asleep since he’s exhausted from barely sleeping for days. Dean wakes up to someone knocking on the door, and he’s immediately alert, reaching for his gun. Then he realizes that he doesn’t even have it, and that it’s still in the car. He walks to the window, untensing when he sees Bobby standing outside. The door swings open, and Dean hugs Bobby. Bobby just wraps his arms around Dean, and lets him stay there for a few minutes. 

Then he whispers, “Let’s go see your brother.” 

Dean nods, and numbly follows Bobby to the car. It’s quiet the entire car ride. Bobby takes Dean to Sam’s room, and there’s obvious rage in John’s eyes when he sees them. 

“Stay here with yer brother. I’ll be here to check on you in a few minutes,” Bobby says before grabbing John’s arm, and dragging him out. 

Dean drops into a chair, taking in Sam. His face is red, and his breathing is labored. He’s still attached to too many machines, enough of them to make Dean’s heart hurt. 

“Please pull through, Sammy. I can’t do this without you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll protect you, even from Dad, if you just come back to me. I know that he was the one monster I never even tried to keep you safe from, but I thought it would be fine. I didn’t know this would happen,” Dean says, absently rubbing his thumb across the back of Sam’s hand. 

Much to Dean’s surprise, Sam’s eyes crack open just a few minutes later. He looks at Dean, his eyes glazed over.

“Sammy?” 

“Dean?” Sam asks, his voice small and raspy from disuse. He sounds confused too. 

“Sam, hey, you’re ok. I’m so glad you’re awake,” Dean says, his voice cracking at the end. 

The corner of Sam’s mouth turns up. 

“It’s hot. Where are we?” 

“We’re in the ICU. Dad and Bobby just stepped out, but I’m sure they’ll be back soon. Do you want me to call a nurse? I should probably call a nurse.” 

Sam doesn’t say anything, but Dean grabs the call button anyway. A nurse comes in quickly, and she starts asking Sam questions. Dean doesn’t interfere, but he keeps a hold of Sam’s hand the entire time. Sam seems to get less and less confused as he fully wakes up, though it is clear that he’s still feeling affected by the fever. Eventually she finishes everything that she needs to do, and gives Sam a smile. 

“Do you know where your father went?” she asks Dean, who shrugs. 

“He went to talk to our Uncle Bobby.” 

“Ok, well, tell him to come to the desk so we can talk. Sam seems to be doing well though.” 

Dean nods, almost crying again. After she leaves, he turns back to Sam. 

“You hear that, Sammy? You’re going to be fine.” 

Sam gives Dean a strained smile. “So, what’s the damage?” he rasps, his eyes downcast. 

“Well, you were shot in the stomach, and you got sepsis. We have no idea how that’s going to affect you in the long run, but hopefully it won’t be a problem. She said you’re doing well, and you’ve only been here for a few days. So, you weren’t sick that long. They were worried about the bullet coming too close to your spine.” 

Sam sighs. “Yeah, I was worried about that too.” 

“How much do you remember?” Dean asks softly, his heart restricting. 

“All of it. I got shot while trying to warn you guys about the cops’ reinforcements. I have no idea when the first ones got there, or how they got past me. Afterwards, I threw up, passed out, and woke up in the woods alone. I tried to get to the road, because I figured I was out long enough that you guys were gone. It hurt too much, and I ended up passing out before I got there,” Sam says, not looking at Dean. His eyes are misty, and Dean is almost driven to tears again himself. 

“I’m so sorry, Sammy. I never meant for you to get hurt.” 

“So what happened?” 

“Dad and I were getting shot at. He said that it was going to be too dangerous for us to find you. We argued, but I let him leave you there. I went back later after he went to sleep, and found you near the road. I’m so sorry this happened, Sam.” 

Sam sighs. “Dean, it’s not your fault.” 

The door opens before Sam can continue. Bobby and John walk in, and John looks so angry. However, Bobby looks thrilled to see Sam awake. 

“Sammy, hey,” Bobby says, reaching out to brush Sam’s hair off of his forehead. 

“Dad, the nurses wanted to talk to you since Sammy woke up,” Dean says, not looking at John. He finds his hands shaking, and he’s unable to make himself stop. 

John storms back out, slamming the door behind himself. Sam visibly flinches, and Bobby raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you two alright?” he asks, his voice off though Dean can’t place why. 

“No, Bobby, I’m not fine. How could I be fine?” Sam snaps, tears falling down his face. 

Bobby hugs him gently. 

“It’s alright, son. We’re going to get you better, and then we’ll figure out what to do from there.” 

“Yeah, Sam, it’s gonna be fine. We’ll make sure that you’re alright,” Dean says, grabbing Sam’s hand again. 

Sam looks away, blinking tears away. 

“I’m tired,” he whispers. Dean knows he means tired of their dad, and of their life, but he doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

So, he decides on saying, “Then you should get some more sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” 

Sam closes his eyes, deciding not to argue. Bobby and Dean are quiet until Sam’s breathing evens out. 

“Damn, you kids are going to be the death of me one of these days,” Bobby says, putting a hand on Dean’s arm.

Dean smiles lightly. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” 

Sam picks at the blanket as he waits for the doctor to come back with the results of his assessment. At least he seems to be able to feel everything, which Dean almost collapsed in relief over. Speaking of which, Dean left with John a couple of hours ago. Bobby is still sitting with Sam, but he can’t help but wonder what the other two are up to. 

“Do you think they’re coming back? I mean, hopefully I get to go home after this.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be back. Also, you should be able to get out of here. You’re doing really well, kiddo.” 

Sam smiles, looking back down. 

“Yeah, after a week and a half, I’m getting antsy. I wasn’t even awake for the first couple of days, so I can’t imagine how the others were feeling.” 

Bobby nods, giving Sam a grin. “Well, we can go get ice cream after this if your brother and dad haven’t gotten back by the time you’re discharged. Though I will say that hospitals usually have a wait time for papers. So, it might be a little while before we can get going.” 

Sam sticks out his lip. “I want to get back to the motel so I can get a shower. My hair desperately needs to be washed. Dean even said that if I needed help with my hair, he could wash it in the sink. I’m not sure I want to do that, but I already have all those restrictions. With those, I’m not sure I could properly wash it myself.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. Your wound still isn’t all better, so you shouldn’t even try. Just let your brother do it for ya,” Bobby says, a soft smile on his face. 

The doctor comes in, holding a clipboard. 

“Alright, Samuel. Your tests look good, and we’re good to get you out of here. You still have to follow all of the guidelines that we gave you before, so keep that in mind. Mr. Winchester, I trust that you’ll keep him on his meds. Make sure that he’s doing everything he’s supposed to,” the doctor says to Bobby, who just nods. 

“Alright then, I’ll grab your discharge papers, and we can get you out of here. It was wonderful meeting you, Samuel. Just remember to come back in for your check up in a week.” 

Sam nods, though he’s barely even listening. Bobby and Sam are in Bobby’s car half an hour later. 

“So, can we get ice cream before we meet with Dean and Dad?” 

“Of course we can,” Bobby says, starting his car. 

They go to the nearest ice cream shop. Sam gets rocky road ice cream, and he insists on buying Dean some mint ice cream. 

“Alright, but we’re not buying your daddy anything,” Bobby says, still smiling. 

Sam grins. “If you say so.” 

Dean is standing outside of the motel room, leaning against the wall. His face lights up when the car rolls into the parking lot. 

“Sammy, Bobby. Sorry it took us so long here. Dad is stress cleaning all of his weapons. I couldn’t handle the tension in there, but we can go in now,” Dean says as he walks over. He wraps a gentle arm around Sam, who immediately leans into his side. 

“I got you ice cream with Bobby,” Sam says, offering him the cup. 

Dean smiles, taking it. “Awesome.” 

John is cleaning weapons with everything spread over the beds. Sam’s eyes drift to the knife from the other week before looking at the floor. Dean puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sam, come here. We need to talk,” John says, motioning Sam over. 

Sam nods, and slowly walks over. 

“I’m sorry about what happened. We shouldn’t have left without even trying to find you. However, I need you to follow protocol next time. Do you understand?” 

Sam nods, wringing his fingers. 

“You can’t seriously be telling this kid that this is his fault. What is wrong with you?” Bobby demands. 

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying that I will do things differently, but Sam needs to as well. He should have called us. I don’t want to lose either of you. I know that what we do is dangerous, but we can make it safer. I want you to be as safe as possible, because I love you two.” 

Sam shuffles uncomfortably. He doesn’t say anything about his phone, and just nods. John puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Alright, I have to talk to Bobby. We can talk more later.” 

Bobby follows John out, leaving Dean and Sam alone. 

“Come on, Sammy. I’m gonna wash your hair for you.” 

Sam numbly nods, and follows Dean to the bathroom. He gets everything set up, then guides Sam’s head under the water. He gently scrubs Sam’s hair, staying quiet for a minute. 

“I’m sorry about Dad. I know that it wasn’t your fault. I figure your phone was broken, or lost, or something. Though I understand you not wanting to start another fight right now,” Dean says as he pours shampoo onto his hands. 

“Yeah, well, I’m too tired to fight. I wonder how long it’s going to be before we hit the road again.” 

“I’m not sure, but I’ll make sure that he lets you rest properly.” 

Sam smirks. “Alright, well, I guess I’m in good hands then.” 

“I know that I don’t say it enough, but I do love you, Sammy. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“I know, and I appreciate you, Dean. I mean, I’d be dead right now if it wasn’t for you.” 

Dean shudders. Sam lets Dean guide his head back under the water. 

“Yeah, I don’t want to think about that.” 

A few minutes later, Dean starts drying Sam’s hair for him. 

“Come on, I’ll move the weapons so you can get some rest.” 

Sam smiles again. “Alright, thanks.” 

Yeah, it’ll be fine. I mean, living with Dad hasn’t killed us yet.