Revenge is Sweet

This story came to me in a dream! (Isn't it great when that happens?) I haven't written a Supernatural fanfiction in a while, so I apologize if some of the characters appear OOC

Pre-series Sam- 14 Dean-18

Dean stepped into Bobby's house from the garage wiping the sweat from his forehead. His stomach grumbled, and he knew it was nearing dinner time, however, he didn't think he could handle another bowl of Bobby's chili. It had caused him to take one too many trips to the bathroom. Their dad had dropped them off at their surrogate Uncle's a few days ago while he went on a hunt with Caleb a couple towns over. He was extremely annoyed that he wasn't there with them; he would rather be hunting werewolves than be sitting around doing nothing. Well, he had been working on the cars, but there was a limit as to how many he would work on. He walked into the living room and stood in the doorway quietly, watching as Sam got lost in his homework, his floppy brown hair covering up his eyes. Dean smirked, but it sobered up quickly; Sam didn't seem to care that they weren't out hunting, he liked being at Bobby's…maybe even more than he liked being with their dad. For him, it was better than fighting monsters. Dean sighed. He hated that the kid had been subjected to this part of the world. The demons, the monsters, all the crap they dealt with that no normal person could imagine. And all Sam wanted to be was normal; Dean wanted that for the kid too. He wished he still had his innocence. Dean pressed his lips together, the grumbling of his stomach jerking him out of his thoughts. Right, he was hungry…starving! There was a diner about five minutes down the road that he loved; they always had great greasy burgers and awesome pies…of all varieties. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked into the room, clearing his throat.

"Hey, Sammy, you hungry? Wanna get go get food at that diner down the road? You can have that rabbit food you always like."

"You mean salad?" Sam snorted. He wondered if that world was even in Dean's dictionary.

"I clearly can't make you eat anything else," Dean chuckled. "Or would you rather have another bowl of Bobby's chili?"

Sam's eyes widened. "The diner it is." He closed his books and stood up.

"That's what I thought," Dean said, ruffling the shaggy hair. "I left my wallet in dad's truck, you think you can convince him to give us some cash?"

"You kidding?" Sam grinned, and Dean rolled his eyes, knowing the kid would use his puppy dog eyes on the older hunter, and like many others had, would give in immediately. Barely two minutes later, Sam came out with a twenty-dollar bill.

"That's my boy," Dean chuckled and grabbed his keys.

"Wait, Dean, can we walk?"

The older Winchester made a face. "Walk? When I have a perfectly great working car just waiting to be ridden?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I swear you treat that thing better than a girl. It's nice out, plus once you eat that heart attack on a bun, walking will help burn it off."

"I don't need to burn off anything, I'm in great shape."

Sam scoffed. "Whatever. Do I need to remind you who just got twenty bucks from Bobby? Maybe I'll just go by myself."

Dean grumbled. Even though Sioux Falls was a small town, he would never let Sam walk around on his own. Sam had the training, but he was small for a fourteen-year-old. He might've been able to take down Dirk McGregor a month ago, but someone else twice his size or more than one, could easily overpower him. "Fine," he said, putting his keys back down and walking outside.

Sam smiled in accomplishment before grabbing his coat and following Dean out the door. "Bye, Uncle Bobby!" He shouted and went to go catch up to his brother. Fifteen minutes later found them sitting in a corner booth, ordering their food, already knowing what they wanted. The two finished half an hour later after Dean had about three slices of pie. Sam gave the waitress the twenty and they got up to leave. Neither one of them were expecting the downpour that apparently started while they were eating.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed. "Awesome Sam. Now we have to walk home in this crap. 'It's nice out,'" he said, mocking his little brother's words from earlier.

"How was I supposed to know it was gonna rain?!"

"I don't know, you're the freakin' know-it-all."

Sam just rolled his eyes. "Well, we're not gonna get anywhere just standing around."

Dean huffed. "Hang on, let me text Bobby and let him know we're headed back." Once he was done, he adjusted his leather jacket higher on his shoulders and then began the uncomfortable trek back to the salvage yard. Cars drove by them, occasionally splashing water on Dean, since he made Sam stay on side closest to the woods.

"My damn boots are getting soaked. I can feel it in my socks!" He groaned. "You're gonna pay for this, Sammy."

"Whatever," the younger boy said, tightening his hood around his head. "You whine more than I do."

Dean scoffed, playfully shoving his brother. "I beg to differ. I could name ten times where you whine about stupid shit."

Sam laughed. "Okay, then do it."

Dean was about to open his mouth when a truck screeched to a stop in front of them, forcing them to jump backwards. Dean immediately pushed Sam behind him in protection from the impending threat.

"Well, well, well," a gruff, bearded man chuckled, jumping out of the truck, three other men doing the same. "If it isn't Johnny Winchester's boys, Sam and Dean."

"And who are you?" Dean growled.

"Friends. I'm Roger, that's Bill, Tyler, and Rob. So, where's your daddy? We have a bone to pick with him."

"Don't we all," Dean said with little humor in his voice. John had made as many enemies as he did friends. "He's on a hunt."

"Damn that sucks…guess we'll just have to take our anger out on the next best thing."

"You know that's a stupid idea, right?" Dean said, starting to back up. He could feel Sam clutching his jacket. He needed to at least get the kid out of here and back to Bobby's. "You know if you mess with us, we'll kick your ass. Also, my dad won't take too lightly on your fugly mugs messing with his sons."

"Oh yeah?" The leader smirked. "We'll see about that."

"Sam, run!" He shouted, turning into the woods and pulling him brother along with him. The rain was falling harder, making it difficult to see and their shoes sunk into the mud as they ran towards Bobby's. Once they got there, they'd be safe.

"Get them!"

They weaved through the trees, trying their hardest not to slip and fall, because that would screw them big time. Dean didn't know how it happened, but somehow, he and Sam got separated. It terrified him. Dad was going to kill him; he had one job to do and that was look out for Sam.

"Sammy?!" He stopped running, seeing that he appeared to lose those douchebags for a bit. "Sam!"

"Dean!" The kid was about half a mile ahead of him. Damn that kid was fast; maybe he should be watching what he was eating. He smiled and was about to start running again when he felt the butt of a gun smash into the back of his head. Great. His vision doubled before he could get back up, a fist punched him in the jaw, sending him to the wet ground. His arms were grabbed tightly as he was held up by Tyler and Roger. Blinking heavily, he saw Sam still standing where he was before, a look of fear etched on his face.

"Sammy! Run to Bobby's! Go!"

The brunette hesitated but began to run and Dean prayed he would make it home to get help from the older hunter.

"We got big mouth over here, you guys go get the kid!"

Dean's stomach plummeted to the ground when he heard this and saw Rob and Bill disappear in the direction his brother went. No! Leave him alone! "You touch him I swear to god, I'll kill you," he shouted, trying to pull out of the men's grasps. "I'll fucking kill you!" He grunted when a boot kicked him in the stomach. Anger surged through his chest; he really needed to get out of this, because if they did end up catching and overpowering Sam…he was terrified at what they'd do.

Sam's sneakers slapped against the sopping wet dirt as he bolted towards Bobby's house. His heart beat furiously against his chest and his breath came out harshly, his lungs burning. He felt guilty for leaving Dean behind, even Dad would be disappointed in him for running away from a fight. He thought about going back, but Dean told him to run and get Bobby, so that's what he was going to do. Now would be a great time to have his knife on him. He was so cold, even the adrenaline from fear wasn't keeping him warm; his hair was matted down, his clothes were becoming soaked and the inside of his shoes were probably filled with water. He glanced behind him, seeing two men start to catch up and he willed his stupid small legs to run faster. Why did he have to be so short? Sam thread through the trees, dodging gigantic puddles and hoping that he was getting closer to Bobby's. They hadn't been that far from the yard, right? He was just about to jump around another tree when he suddenly heard a gunshot ring through air. At first, he didn't feel anything until he was thrown forward into the deep puddle, water shooting up in his nose. It was then that he felt the excruciating pain in his back. Choking on the muddy liquid, he weakly pushed himself up and looked down to see blood. He had been shot! Sam immediately began to feel dizzy and nauseous; shit, Dean was going to kill him. His clothes were drenched and plastered to his body, weighing him down. He tried to get up, but he was suddenly lifted and thrown back onto the ground. Blinking furiously, he looked up to see the two men standing over him.

"What should we do to him?"

"Little brat made us run, so I'd like to rough him up a bit," Rob said, out of breath and red faced. Sam tried to scoot away, but Rob grabbed his ankles and pulled him back before straddling his hips and bringing his fists across his cheek. Again, and again and again until he was barely able to stay conscious. His mind was fuzzy and all he could think about was that he was failure. Dad's going to be so mad I didn't fight back. He could already hear the man's voice in his head.

"You could've taken them, Sam. I'm disappointed in you."

And Dean…oh god, he hoped Dean was okay. Sam coughed wetly, tasting blood on his tongue and the rain water getting into his eyes, blurring his vision along with his tears of pain. Dean.

The older hunter's heart nearly stopped when he heard the gunshot. They were shooting at his little brother and since he only heard one…Oh fuck, no. Roger laughed, and Dean jerked in the man's hold, earning another kick to the stomach.

"Let's go see what kind of animal our boys caught," Roger grinned before brutally punching Dean in face and briefly knocking him out. When he came to, he was still on his knees, being held up by dumb and dumber- as he decided to call them- and a few feet away was Sam. The kid was in a similar position; Bill was behind Sam, his left arm wrapped around the brunette's chest and using his right hand to grip Sam's face, forcing him to look straight forward at Dean.

Sam was barely conscious; everything hurt, everything was cold and wet, it was hard to breathe or move for that matter and all he wanted to do was pass out, but these bastards weren't letting him. Sam groaned, seeing his brother through his fevered vision. He opened his mouth and wheezed painfully. "D-De…"

"Sammy!" Dean grunted, trying to pull away frantically. Sam only used the first letter of his name when he was sick or hurt. He could see the blood blossoming through Sam's sweatshirt and he realized his fears had come true. Sam had been shot and it looked like he was barely hanging on. He could see blood dripping from the kid's nose and mouth, bruises forming on his cheek and right eye. He was going to murder theses assholes. "Sam, hey buddy, I'm right here. Just stay with me, kiddo. We're gonna get out of this."

Roger laughed. "Believe what you want, Dean, but I don't think either of you are gonna be leaving here alive."

Sam swallowed thickly, his eyelids struggling to stay open. "Our D-Dad…is gonna…mur-murder you."

Dean smirked. Damn right; and maybe he'd get in a few punches as well.

Bill snorted. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say. Once we're done with you, we'll be long gone before your daddy'll even know what happened." He jerked Sam's face roughly. "Now shut up and let us have our fun."

"I know I'd have a lot of fun beating this piece of shit," Roger said, kneeing Dean in the chest, sending the teenager to the ground. Before Dean even had time to recuperate, he was being kicked and punched by his captors…and Sam was being forced to watch. The younger hunter silently cried as he watched his stronger, older brother…his role model…his rock, get beaten to death.

"P-Please," he said tiredly. "L-Leave'm 'lone."

"Don't worry, boy, you'll have your turn. Hey Rog! Finish up, I have an idea that will really fuck John up."

Roger got off Dean and he and Tyler resumed their tight grip on his arms, even though he was beaten, bloodied and hardly awake. His head was killing him as was the rest of his body, but he refused to pass out. Sam was still in danger and that didn't sit well with him. He forced his vision to focus just as he saw Bill put Sam on the ground and get on top of him. There was this sickening feeling at the pit of his stomach and he prayed that whatever was about to happen wasn't what he thought it'd be.

"W-Wha' are you d-doing?" He choked. "D-Don't…fucking t-touch 'im." He tried to desperately get out the two men's grasp. "Sammy, get up!" Why wasn't the kid moving?

"Bill likes little boys," Roger whispered into Dean's ear.

"No!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, fighting harder this time. "Leave him the fuck alone! Sam! Sammy!" He watched as Bill took out a knife and began roughly cutting Sam's shirt open, most likely cutting his skin, too. Come on, Sam fight back!

Sam moaned when he felt something cut his chest. He must've blacked out, because he didn't remember laying on the ground. He rolled his head to his right and saw Dean; he looked horrible and his mouth was moving…like he was yelling. Why was Dean yelling? He blinked, turning his head to look up and saw Bill looming over him. Sam tried to move, but he felt weighed down…Bill was on top of him again, only this time he wasn't punching him. He was cutting up his shirt. What the hell was he doing? His body trembled, willing his arms to move, but he was so tired and weak from the blood loss. He wondered how much he lost; it's been some time; shouldn't he be dead already? Bill was smiling down at him, it was creepy; what felt even creepier were the hands on his bare chest…caressing. Oh god. Some of the fog cleared from his mind enough to know what was about to happen. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Dean wanted to cry; he prided himself in being the type of guy to hold in his emotions, but when it came to Sam being hurt and him being helpless, it was hard. And something like this…well, something like this would destroy him. Bill began messing with Sam's belt and Dean let out a strangled sob, bowing his head and shoulders sagging in defeat. He heard laughter beside him; they were enjoying this, those sick fucks. If they survived this…nothing would be the same. The guilt would eat him alive…right now he'd rather die than witness what was about to happen. I'm so sorry, Sammy. I'm a failure as a big brother.

All of a sudden, a gunshot rang through the air and he expected to feel pain or maybe Sam was…but when he looked up, Bill had stopped what he was doing before he fell over to the ground. Another gunshot went off and Rob was down there with him. He was so confused until he saw Bobby- damn, he had never been so glad to see the older hunter- emerge from the trees, gun raised.

"Oh shit!" Roger and Tyler said in unison before letting go of Dean and running back towards their truck. Dean collapsed to the ground as Bobby shot at them, but they disappeared quickly. However, Dean didn't care right now…all he cared about was Sam.

"Dean are you okay!?" Bobby said gruffly, running up to him. "What the hell happened?"

Instead of answering, Dean clambered to his feet, sliding in the mud, and rushed over to Sam who hadn't moved once. He fell to his knees, hands hovering over the kid's battered body. The only thing he was grateful for was that Bill didn't get a chance to…do what he wanted to do. Fuck, it shouldn't have even gotten that far.

"Sam?" He sniffed, picking up the brunette's upper body into his arms, cradling him close to his chest. The kid was barely breathing, his face was pale, covered in dirt and blood and his lips were blue. The gunshot wound, where the bullet thankfully went all the way through, was still bleeding upon checking it, the crimson liquid becoming diluted with the rain that had finally started to calm. "Sammy, come on, open your eyes for me." His body shook violently, and he could feel Sam's doing the same. "Sammy, wake up!" His hand swept underneath the shaggy bangs that had plastered to the kid's forehead. He rocked back and forth, his eyes burning with tears he had tried to force not to fall. He heard Bobby come over and glanced up briefly to see the man take off his jacket, placing it over Sam's body and tucking it around his shoulders. Why wasn't he waking up?

"Dean, he needs the hospital. What do you want me to do?"

Dean shuddered and clenched his jaw while tightening his grip. "Drive."

~+SPN+~

Bobby was gunning it towards Sioux Falls General, not caring that he was breaking every single traffic law in the book. Sam was dying, that much was clear. Dean sat in the front of the truck, still holding his little brother in his arms and freaking out.

"Dammit Sammy, wake up," he said, digging his knuckles into Sam's sternum. He finally got a response and the young hunter's eyes flickered open sluggishly; his dark hazel orbs were glazed over and looking into space.

"Hey," Dean called sharply. "Sammy, you with me?" He said, gently cupping his brother's cheek. Sam wheezed and slid his focus up to his older brother. Where was he? He could hear the rumble of an engine and it felt like they were moving. He was so damn cold and so tired. His side hurt too, but he couldn't remember what happened. He stared up at Dean and his hearing came back into focus.

"D-D'n?" He slurred. "Where…we?"

"We're gonna go get you patched up, okay?" If he told the kid they were going to the hospital instead of Bobby's he'd probably end up panicking. Sam hated the hospital. "How are you doin'?"

Sam just groaned, his forehead creasing as a wave of pain shot through his entire body. His eyes began to close, but Dean's sharp voice kept him out of unconsciousness.

"Hey! No sleeping yet, kiddo. Come on, talk to me. How are you feelin'?"

"C-Cold…hu-hurts, D," he shivered, twisting the fabric of Dean's shirt in his fingers.

"I know, Sammy, I know. It'll all be over soon, I promise."

"Dad's…g-gonna be…s-so mad."

"You let me worry about him, Sam, okay? Just focus on staying awake."

"But m'tired."

"What did I tell you about whining, Sam? I guess I can count this as one of the top ten times you whined."

Sam gave him a weak bitchface and Dean smiled, running his fingers through the brunette's damp hair. "You're gonna be okay, Sammy, just stay with me."

Sam burrowed closer to his brother as his breathing grew slow and shallow. His grip on Dean's shirt began to weaken and the teen knew that was a bad thing. He lightly shook the boy's body. "No, no, no, Sammy? Sam! Stay awake, I mean it." His brother was slipping away. "Bobby, how much longer?"

"We're almost there!" The older hunter pressed harder on the gas.

Dean looked back down at Sam, becoming terrified as the kid's features started relaxing. "Sammy, come on, don't give up now. We're almost to the hospital. Please." The word came out strangled and Sam's eyes peeled open to look up at his brother. He frowned. First of all, Dean rarely said 'please' so that was weird. Second, was Dean crying? He had to be hallucinating right?

"Sammy, please don't go," he said stroking the kid's cheek with his thumb.

Sam tried to cling onto consciousness, but it was too hard. It would be better just to give in. At least the last thing he would see was his brother's face. God, he loved him so much and he's always refrained from saying it, because Dean hated 'chick-flick' moments. But maybe now was as a good a time as any.

"D-De…" he coughed, knowing he was using the last ounce of his life to do this…and it'd be worth it. "D…I…l-love…you. N-Not…your…f-fault." And that was it. His eyes closed, his chest stopped moving and his fingers slipped from Dean's shirt while his head rolled limply to the side.

Dean's breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened in fear. "Sammy? Sammy?!" He brought the kid's chest up to his ear. Silence. "No. No, no, no. Sam!" His chin quivered, tears dripping from his eyes. Sam was dead. "Oh god, Sammy, I'm so sorry." He buried his face in the moppy brown hair. He failed. "Sam!"

1 ½ Hours Later

"Boy, would you sit down?" Bobby said. "You're makin' me dizzy."

Dean had been pacing for who knows how long, sick with worry. Sam had died in his arms right as they got to the hospital. Died. The doctors had taken him away and that was the last image he was stuck with. Sam's bruised, stark white face and dark blue lips…his corpse. He would never be able to keep going if…

"Dean!"

He stopped to stare at Bobby who looked just as concerned. "Maybe you should go get checked out, too."

"I'm fine," he grunted. He was far from fine; he knew once his fear and anger fueled adrenaline wore off, he was gonna be in a world of hurt. But he needed to know if Sam was okay first. He had to be okay.

Bobby snorted in disbelief. "Well, would you at least sit?"

Dean huffed, but complied, sitting next to the older hunter and burying his head in his hands, trying to take a deep breath…trying to relax. But, how could he? Sam fucking died in his arms! And the last thing he said…Jesus, Sammy.

"How did you find us?" He said, clearing his throat and sitting back up.

"You were late."

Dean frowned. "Huh?"

"You texted me when you were leaving the diner. Assuming you didn't feel like playing in the rain, it should've only taken you fifteen minutes to get back, maybe twenty tops. After thirty, I knew something was wrong, especially since neither of you were answering your phones. I drove down the road and saw the truck and I knew."

"Knew what?"

"Knew who had you."

"You know them?"

"Yeah…they're a group of self-centered hunters. Your daddy and I worked with them once. John got one of them killed…well, at least that's what they said, though I doubt it. All they care about is the glory of killing, they won't listen to reason, and they don't care who else gets hurt in the process. Civilians or Hunters. I nearly died, because of them. I imagine when they saw you two, they wanted revenge and since John wasn't around…"

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "Bobby, one of the guys…" he clenched his jaw in anger, pushing the emotions back in. "He was gonna…he was gonna do things to Sam. Fuck…I felt so helpless just sitting there. Something snapped…it killed me."

"Jesus Christ. Nothing happened, did it?"

"Besides that son of bitch rubbing his grimy hands over Sam's chest, no."

"Thank god. Well, then I feel even less guilter than I did when I killed him. No one'll miss them."

"What about Roger…and Tyler? They're still out there."

"Not for long. I called John."

"You did?" Dean said fearfully. "Was he mad?"

"Livid…but not at you and not at Sam. He wondered what you two were doing walking in the first place, but he's on his way back now. He and Caleb finished the hunt. Don't you worry, he'll find them."

Dean ran his fingers through his hair and sat back against the seat. Another fifteen minutes passed before the doctor came out, a sympathetic look on her face. Dean couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

"How is he, doc?" Bobby said.

Dean's freezing cold hands shook, his heart beating in fear.

"Sam is very lucky to be alive. He's lost a lot of blood, went into shock, is suffering from mild hypothermia and not to mention his heart had stopped when you brought him in. He had a few cracked ribs, a bruised cheekbone and torso. There were also some superficial cuts on his chest, but nothing life-threatening. As of now, he's stable; his vitals are looking good, he's responding well to the transfusions and antibiotics and his temperature is gradually rising. Barring any complications such as infections or pneumonia, he should make a full recovery within a week, give or take. It's a good thing you got him here when you did."

"Can I see him?" Dean said, feeling dizzy. The adrenaline was wearing off, but he needed to see Sam first. Sam was always his number one priority.

"Of course. We have him up in the pediatric ward since he's under eighteen."

Dean inwardly snorted. Sammy's gonna hate that. He and Bobby were led into the elevator to go to the fifth floor. Dean could feel his legs turning to Jell-O and his injuries pulsing angrily. Just let me see Sam. Thankfully, the kid was the first room in the wing.

"He's breathing on his own, and like I said, responding well to medications. Once his temperature is up I'll feel a little better, but we'll have to watch for a fever if he starts to get an infection."

Dean stared into the room, seeing his little brother resting peacefully. His face was still extremely pale and littered with ugly colored bruises. From underneath his armpits and hidden down beneath the blanket that reached the middle of his chest was gauze swathing his small body. His chest rose and fell slowly…breathing…alive. And Dean finally knew that the kid was going to be okay. He barely heard Bobby yell his name or feel himself hit the ground before he blacked out.

~+SPN+~

"Dean."

The blonde scrunched his nose at the scent of antiseptic. He could hear machines beeping and he realized that he was in the hospital. Why was he lying down?

"Dean, open your eyes."

That didn't sound like Bobby…that sounded like Dad. And then he remembered everything…he remembered Sam. His eyes flew open with a gasp as he shot up. Almost instantly, pain shot through his ribs.

"Easy, son, easy." He felt a hand gently press down on his shoulder and back against the pillows. He blinked the haze out of his eyes and scanned the room until landing on John.

"D-Dad," he rasped before coughing. "When'd you get here?"

"An hour ago. You've been out for two."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, cradling his head. Fuck, it hurt so much. "Did…Did Bobby tell you what happened?"

"Yeah," John replied, his eyes going cold. The things Bobby recalled to him…it made him sick…distraught…fuming. Bill was lucky he was dead already, because he would've beaten him to death after finding out what he almost did to his youngest.

Dean gasped again. "Sam! Where's Sammy?"

"Relax," John said, his voice soft once more. "He's right here." He got out of the way, so Dean could see that he was in the same room as his little brother. "Bobby told 'em you'd want to be here rather than a few floors down since you probably wouldn't stay put."

Dean's shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry, sir."

"For what?"

"For letting Sam get hurt. I shoulda protected him better."

John sighed through his nose, clasping his hands together. "What were you two doing out on the streets?"

"Sammy wanted to walk to the diner…nature nerd," he chuckled weakly. "He begged me, so I said yes. We didn't know it was going to rain…we didn't know those guys…" He huffed. "Sam and I got separated in the woods and they overpowered us. I'm sorry, Dad. I failed you. I failed Sam."

"You didn't fail me Dean."

Dean raised a brow.

"As far as I'm concerned, Sammy's alive. You got him here in time and he's still with us. You didn't fail me, because I don't care what led to this…all I care about is that you two are okay."

Dean sniffed, his eyes watering. He never cried in front of his Dad and he wasn't about to start now, but the fact that John wasn't ripping his head off like he usually did when either one of them screwed-up…it was nice.

"I'm so sorry, Dad. I should've fought harder…I had to hear him get shot…they forced Sam to watch me get beaten and then they forced me to…they forced me to watch while that sick fuck, Bill, started to…thank god, Bobby got there when he did. To make things worse, Sammy died in my arms. He died, Dad and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. And you wanna know the last thing he said to me? He loved me and that it wasn't my fault. Of course, it was my fault, I should've been stronger…I should've said no to walking…I should've done something!"

"Dean! Calm down!" John said, gripping Dean's shoulder. "Calm down, son. It's okay. You're both okay now. You won, and they didn't."

Dean wiped his nose. "Two of them got away."

"No, they didn't," John grunted.

Dean's eyes widened. "You found them?"

"They've been taken care of," John replied.

Dean glanced at his father's hands and noticed how cut up and bruised they were. He didn't have to ask what he did, it was pretty clear.

"Good." He took a deep breath and threw off his sheets.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to sit by Sam," he wheezed, the movement jarring his injuries.

"Dean, you have four cracked ribs, a cracked sternum, a concussion and internal bleeding that got stitched up barely an hour ago. You need to rest."

"I need to see, Sam," he growled, giving his father a steely glare, before it softened. "Please, Dad. I just need to see he's okay."

John sighed; it would be impossible to keep Dean away from his brother. "Alright, but be careful, I don't need you ripping your stitches and getting thrown back in surgery. Once Sam is better, we're getting out of here and you'll be spending time at Bobby's for a while."

"Okay…thanks, Dad."

John squeezed the back of Dean's neck before leaving the room. Dean took a deep breath before carefully getting off the bed and taking his dad's empty seat, dragging it over to Sam's side. The kid looked slightly better than before, color returning to his pale cheeks and his lips pink. His breathing still sounded a bit rough, but Dean knew that was better than the alternative. He adjusted the nasal cannula that was snaked underneath Sam's nose before brushing the bangs off his forehead; they seemed a little sweaty and upon touching his skin, he concluded that the brunette had a small fever. He hoped it didn't get worse…because when Sam had a fever, it sometimes got really bad. Sam suddenly moaned, sensing Dean's presence; his head leaned into the older hunter's cool touch. Dean smiled.

"I'm right here, Sammy. You're safe now."

The kid let out a deep sigh, settling into the pillows, remaining unconscious.

"God, you scared the hell outta me, Sammy. I thought I lost you…I don't know what I would've done if you…" Dean wiped his face with his free hand while the one on Sam's forehead used a thumb to rub soothingly between the kid's eyes. "I felt so helpless watching those bastards touching you. I wanted to die." He licked his lips, listening to the rhythmic beeps of the heart monitor. "I should've protected you better, Sammy, and from here on out, I'm never letting you out of my sight." He would never forget the fact that his brother died in his arms. Never. And he prayed he wouldn't ever have to go through it again. He scratched his head, watching Sam breath in and out. "Man, I would've loved to see the looks on Roger and Tyler's face when Dad found them. I didn't even want to ask what he did to them, but I hope they're dead." Just the thought of those bastards made his stomach boil. "It's all over, kiddo, don't you worry. I'm gonna take care of you. I'll always take care of my pain-in-the-ass little brother." He looked at the door before going over to the other side of the bed and lowering the bedrail. After stiffly moving onto the mattress beside his brother and with gentle movements, he lifted Sam up a little before repositioning the kid on his uninjured side to lean against him. Dean wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulder and ran his fingers through the floppy hair while listening intently to the monitors. And that's how John found them ten minutes later, both younger Winchesters out for the count. Emotion surged through his chest at the sight; the intense love for the two of his sons. He wouldn't trade it for anything.

FIN

Hope you liked it and hope they weren't too OOC! Thanks for reading and I hope I have more inspiring dreams like this one!

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