Chapter Text
Sam’s pained scream echoed through the old warehouse. Dean stopped what he was doing, which was trying to get the victims out, and turned around. Sammy? No. He sprinted to the source of the terrible sound and found his little brother on his back, with blood coming from his stomach. Dean felt his face fall as he slowly knelt next to the younger Winchester.
“Sammy?” Dean whimpered. Nonono. This is all my fault. Idiot! Why wasn’t I there to protect him? He scolded himself angrily. “Sam?!” Dean’s voice cracked with emotion as he gently patted his brother’s cheek. “Dad!”
John came running, “Oh, hell. What happened?!” He collapsed to his knees beside Dean and assessed his son’s injuries. Dean moved aside.
“I dunno. I just heard his scream.” Dean was able to make a few sentences come out normally, but the rest was an unintelligible mess.
“Hey, Dean. Calm down, alright? Call 911.” John said, noticing his older son’s panic.
Dean complied, his hands shaking against the phone as he barely managed to dial the number as he kept stealing glances at his wounded brother.
“911, what’s your emergency?” The man on the other end said calmly. Dean took a few breaths so he would be able to speak clearly.
“My brother, he’s hurt. I need an ambulance.” Dean said, barely keeping his voice steady.
“The address?”
Dean told him, keeping the stutters at bay while he did. John felt for a pulse and let out a long sigh of relief when he found one.
“He’s okay, Dean.” John made sure to tell his oldest, who was hyperventilating.
But the information fell on deaf ears. Dean wasn’t listening. Every sense of his was focused on Sam, as if the rest of the world wasn’t a thing. All I did was prove that I fail everyone who gets close to me. Dean thought, fighting off the tears.
The sirens neared, but Dean wasn’t completely aware of it.
Dean was sitting in a chair in the waiting room, nervously clutching at his jeans and continuing his self-loathing.
I cant do anything right. He thought, his breath hitching. Sam’s going to die and it is all my fault. His hands began to shake against his pants, his chest getting a weird pain and his eyes darting back and forth around the room. Sammy? Are you okay? Come on. Please don’t die. I won’t be able to live with myself.
Dean continued his silent panicking as John got good news from the hallway.
“Your son is okay. He got stabbed in a place that won’t hurt him much. We just had to disinfect and patch him up. He should be able to go home in a few days.” The doctor informed the father who was about to have a heart attack.
“Thank god.” John felt a huge weight being lifted and he chuckled in relief. “Can we see him?”
“Of course. He just woke up.” The doctor left.
John went into the room, deciding to have a chat with his son first.
Sam was laying in the hospital bed, his face pale, but relaxed. John smiled lightly at his son as he walked into the room, earning a small grin from Sam.
“Heya, Sammy. How’re you feeling?”
Sam shrugged, “A little sore, but I’m okay. Where’s Dean?”
John winced, “He blames himself. I think he almost had a panic attack when he saw you. But he’s good right now. Do you want me to go get him?”
Sam almost rolled his eyes. Of course his overprotective brother blames himself. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” John ruffles Sam’s long hair and turned to leave, “I’ll be right back.”
But Dean wasn’t good.