I tired to make the Reader insert genderless, BUT if I want to continue I need to pick a gender (cause it might get a little more intimate.) So let me know what ya'll think :D

You approached the dark vehicle with cation. Each step you took became slower and slower with gravel crunching under your feet. The engine rumbled and threatened to lurch in any direction at any moment, of only you could see that someone was even inside. You cleared your throat, hoping the small action would be loud enough to be heard from this distance.

You had sat in your own car for a long while, convincing yourself that you needed to check this strange occurrence out. It wasn't likely that a car would be here during this time, even the little place in which you worked wasn't open, and wouldn't be for a few good hours. And the city you lived in was so small that you knew everyone around, this car was new, strange, and held so many questions.

"Come on Y/N, just go and see if someone is in the car. It's not a big deal. It's probably empty anyway." You rocked back and forth on the heels of your feet trying to convince yourself. The car seemed ominous and scary. And with the soft hum of the classic rock inside you weren't sure what to think.

You let out a rather large sigh before taking two very large steps and finding yourself next to the driver door. You stood on your toes and found a body inside. He lay with his face against the cool leather of the front seat, his boot covered feet near the pedals. One hand remained snaked in the steering wheel, the other on the floor of the car. As you traced his body and lingered on the drooping hand on the floor you spotted it, the pile of vomit.

You didn't hesitate to pry open the creaking door and throw yourself on top of him. You turned him, allowing only a moment to marvel in the beauty that was the man now under you before you shoved two of your dainty fingers into his mouth. Vomit caked on to the side of his face and forced your own gag reflux to kick in.

You shoved it down, focusing on saving the life of the man under you. He coughed a few times, his eyes still shut and his body still limp. You turned your head so you couldn't watch and shoved them in a little more, hoping that his would work. He coughed again, this time his arms came to life as he tried to turn to his side.

You climbed off of him, standing a few feet away from the car as he continued to unload his stomach onto the floor of his car. He gripped the steering wheel as he lifted himself up and into a sitting position. You watched him drag the back of his hand across his lips, how he looked at the remains before wiping them on his jacket. It took him a few moments to look around, to assess his surroundings.

"Are you okay?" You asked, approaching him once again. Slowly, as if he couldn't move any faster, his eyes found you. He combed over your nicely dressed body before he closed his eyes and rested his head against the steering wheel. "I found you passed out, it seems you overdosed? I don't mean to pry but you should probably go get looked at. I have my car over there if you want a ride. I don't think you should be driving in your condition anyway."

Dean grumbled and shook his head. "You saved me?" He asked, but his face still remained buried against the hard steering wheel. "You don't even know me." You watched his hands tighten around the wheel, his knuckles growing white.

You stepped forward, bending down and digging your knee into the gravel below. "That doesn't matter. You could have died choking on your own vomit. No one deserves to go out like that." You rubbed your hand on his knee gently. Even you were shocked by your sudden confidence with this stranger.

Dean chuckled at your response and slowly turned his head towards you. His eyes lingered on your hand before he found your face. "Thank you for your act of kindness. It's good to know there are still some good people in the world."

"What is your name?" You asked getting lost in his green eyes.

Dean flustered, every part of him was ready to lie to the woman before him, but he didn't feel the need to. "Dean. Dean Winchester." He made for you to shake his hand, but when he saw it covered in vomit he instead let it grip the steering wheel.

"Y/F/N. Y/L/N." You stood now, brushing the dirt from your knee and hugging your arms to your chest. "Look please let me take you to the hospital. And while we're there I'll have your car cleaned? Is there anyone I should call?"

"No hospitals. I'll be fine. I just need a moment to…" Dean leaned over and popped open the glove compartment. He shoved his hand in the space and dug around the various papers before a "Gotcha" left his lips and he returned his hand to his side. In his grasp sat a small pint of dark liquid.

You leaned down, ripping the bottle from his hand before it met his lips. "Hey!" He yelled trying to swat at your hands and take it back from you.

"I am pretty sure that this isn't going to help your situation." You swung the bottle in front of him before duping the liquid at your feet.

"Look," Dean pinched at the brow of his nose and tried to remain calm. "I am glad that you saved my life. But you don't need to stick around. So thank you." He ripped the empty bottle from your hand and tried to suckle out any remaining drop he could. He was just short of dropping to his knees and licking the dirt for the liquid.

"Obviously you need my help. Something is wrong with you if you have to drive yourself to drink to the point you choke on your own vomit. And I'm willing to bet that you have someone close to you that would care deeply if something happened to you. So get your ass out of the car, I'm taking you to the hospital."

Dean sat confused by the sudden control you commanded, and it didn't help that you yourself were shocked at your sudden outburst either. None of this was you. "Come on." You barked, stepping out of Dean's way so that he could join you with his feet on the ground.

Dean groaned as he stood, his bones creaking under him, aching at the sudden stress he was putting on his body. He slammed the door of his car, welcoming the familiar creaking sound. He motioned for you to lead the way and you did.

His feet moved heavily behind yours, you waited for him to get in the car first, waited to see his large shoulders in the passenger seat. You took in a deep breath before you joined him in the small confines of your car. The smell of his vomit covered clothes filled in the air and forced you to question your own up-chuck refluxes as you tried to drive as safely as you could to the local hospital.

Dean seemed reluctant to get out of the car after you parked. You stuck around with him, watching him wring his hands in his lap before throwing his head back behind him, leaning against the seat. "I'd say you don't have to go in there if you don't want, but you have to. I saw you limping earlier, and I'm not too sure where all the cuts on your hands came from but I'm guessing its nothing good."

"Oh, you don't want to know where I got these." Dean flashed you a smile, one that had he not been covered in his own vomit probably would have made you swoon for the man next to you. "Here, call the guy saved as Moose." Dean tossed a phone into your lap and exited the car before you could say anything.

Dean sauntered his way into the hospital, passing nurses and other guests until he came to a crashing halt at the nurse's station. "I need help." And his eyes closed.

You caught up to see a group of curses attempting to pick up the man and place him on a bed. "Hey, be careful with him!" You yelled watching them drop him rather violently onto the bed. You ran to his side, a few nurses left, leaving you with just two as they tried to wheel him down the hall.

They stopped the bed from moving, forcing you to almost trip over your own feet. "Excuse me do you know this man?" The male nurse next to Dean's feet asked. You could hear the annoyance on his voice but you paid no mind to it.

"Yeah. Well kinda. I found him." You said not taking your eyes off the once again passed out Dean Winchester. He seemed to peaceful, even with the apparent cuts and bruises that were now more apparent with the florescent lights above.

"Do you know what happened?" The nurse asked as he waved his hand in front of your face trying to get your attention.

"Uh," You started, turning to the nurse for a moment. "When I found him he was in a pool of his own vomit. I forced him to throw up and he gained consciousness." You ran a hand through your hair, replaying what had only happened a few moments before.

"Okay. Thank you." They both started pushing him again. They reached a double door, clearly marked that you couldn't enter with them.

"Wait what are you going to do to him?" You grabbed at the nurse's scrubs forcing her to stop moving forward. She gave you a menacing look before proceeding forward. You stood there, watching through the small glass window until they turned down another hall and disappeared from view.

You shoved your hands into your pockets and found a seat in the waiting area. Others around you coughed, and looked sickly, all eyeing you. You gripped Dean's phone tightly in your hand for a long while before you realized that it was his phone.

You sighed, searching through someone's personal belongings wasn't something you tried to do, but something overcame you. You cleared the lock screen, looking around and making sure that no one was watching as you violated the privacy of a stranger. The first thing that you noticed was the lack of personality on the phone, nothing to scream out to you what kind of person he was.

His contacts were slim. Most were coded, it was apparent, but you were unaware of what any of it meant. You stopped at the name Moose, your thumb hovering over the name. Dean had told you to call them.

You rose to your feet, going back into the fresh air of the night. "Dean where are you? I have been trying to call all night! This isn't cool man!" A male voice practically screamed on the other line. You held the phone away from your ear as he continued.

"Uh, hello?" You asked after he had concluded his fit of anger.

The phone was quiet for a moment, the man on the other line was obviously making sure who had called him was his brother. "Who's this?" He asked, the anger still in his voice, but somehow softer.

"My name is Y/N. I uh," You rubbed at the back of your neck. "I found your brother in a parking lot. I took him to the hospital and he told me to call you."

"What hospital?" The man on the other line quickly asked. You could hear the shuffling of papers on the other side as he frantically tried to search for a place to jot down your answer.

"Uh, Green Tree? In Nebraska."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." And the phone line went dead. You sighed, not knowing if you had made the situation worse or better. You shoved the phone into your pocket and went back into the waiting room. The harsh smell of the hospital overtaking you the farther you went in.

"You're the one that brought in the drunk guy right?" A woman with a clipboard asked hovering over you.

You practically jumped up, "Yeah. Is everything okay?" You asked.

"Follow me."

You were led into a room, Dean lay on the bed various tubes and other things protruding from his body. He gave you a faint smile as he saw you walk into the room. "So we pumped his stomach and are keeping here overnight to monitor him. But we are worried about his mental stability, we found his body covered in various gashes in bruises that suggest self-harm."

Dean laughed forcing the doctor to pry her eyes off the clipboard she was reading from. "Did you contact his family? We need to discuss this with someone in relation to him."

Suddenly Dean perked up, looking quickly back from you to the doctor. "No, I uh, I don't have any of his contacts." You lied. Dean gave you a small nod of approval. You felt a lump in your throat forming, lying wasn't your specialty, and you didn't like the way it made you feel, but judging by the look of relief of Dean's face you had chosen right.

The doctor sighed, tapping the end of his pen on the clipboard in his hand. "Well, do you have anyone we can call Mr. Page?" You ears perked at the name choice, making you question you had heard earlier.

"Nope. It's just me." Dean sat up, pulling the blankets over his chest. "Sorry doc, I guess we'll have to discuss my well-being with me. And I think I'm awesome. So let's get this show on the road."

"Mr. Page, I suggest you stay here for the night. Pumping your stomach has left you dehydrated. I'll send the psychiatrist in the morning." The doctor jotted something down in a quick scribble before turning tail and leaving the room.

You sighed, watching Dean shuffle back into a comfortable place on the bed. "Mr. Page?" You asked, making sure that no one was near the door to over hear your conversation.

Dean laughed a little before clinging to his hurting stomach. "Can't go wrong with a little Zepplin." He smiled, and now without the vomit you could really appreciate it for all that it was worth. "Uh, what you said earlier. About not calling my family?" You could see the question in his eyes as well as the way his voice changed to something softer.

You shifted, once more looking around to make sure it was all clear. "Yeah. Uh," You searched your pockets for his phone, tossing it to him so it landed gently on his lap. "Moose didn't sound too thrilled with you." He unlocked the screen in a few clicks, before looking back up at you.

"Yeah." Dean scratched at the top of his head. "Well, thanks for the help. Though this seems a little too much." He motioned to the bed he lay in, the gown choking him, and the tubes coming from his arm.

"Pumping your stomach is too much?" You crossed your arms over your chest raising an eyebrow as you questioned his logic.

Dean laughed, picking at invisible lint on his lap. "Yeah well." He glanced up at you, his eyes soft and his mouth ready to say something more.

"DEAN!" Suddenly a very tall man ran into the room, right past you and to the bed side of Dean. "What happened? Are you okay?" You watched as the man came in and cupped Dean's face, how his eyes softened and filled with worry. For a moment it was just these two men in their own little world. Dean coughed, eyes looking back to you before looking at the intruders.

He stepped back, hands glued to his sides as he looked over you. It took him a moment, but with a quick lick of his lips he shook off anything he had before and replaced himself with a much more hardened version of himself. He wiped the palms of his hands on his jeans and stuck out his hand for you to shake.

"Hi, I'm Sam. You're the one that found him right? Thank you." You shook his hand quickly, more intimidated by the largeness of the man in front of you than anything. He cleared his throat again, and made his way back to his brother's side in a few simple steps.

Dean looked back and forth between you and his brother, his lips pursed as if he were ready to say something but couldn't. "Okay. Well. It was nice meeting you Dean, Sam. I'll just… I'll just go now." You took a few steps towards the open door, hands back in your pockets.

NO one stopped you as you walked out into the hallway, which you took as a sign that it was okay that you were leaving. You hadn't planned on staying this long anyway. Dropping Dean off was all you had wanted to do, but you had ended up more worried about the stranger than you thought.

Finally breathing in fresh outside air you found your keys and made your way back to your car. The stench of Dean's vomit still clung to the air, forcing you to drive with your windows down. You grabbed at your own cellphone, searching through your contacts list for a friend who would help you clean up the mess in the dark car back at your work.

Too Be Continued…