A companion piece to my other story 'Pranks and Problems.'
Summary: When Dean finds out Sam's been hurt, his big brother protectiveness appears.
Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, Gabriel and Balthazar would be partying in Las Vagas.
His scarred hand turned the key in the ignition, the engine of his baby stuttering slightly before settling into a low purr. Despite the fact she had been nearly totaled, he had her back in almost perfect running condition. The Impala was not going to be scrapped, not if he was still breathing. His brother had complained on numerous occasions that he was obsessed with his car, but hey, he had practically grown up on the road, and this car was one of the few consistencies in his life.
A rock beat soon filled the quiet of the yard. Wiping any excess oil onto his already stained jeans, he picked up his cell. The caller I.D. flashed "Sam." Speak of the devil. "Hey, Sammy," he answered, knowing the affectionate nickname would annoy the younger man.
"Dean?"
His breath caught in his throat; the slightly breathless voice on the line was not Sam. "Who is this, and why do you have my brother's phone?" Dean growled, his previous good mood gone with the unknown voice.
"Dean, it's me." He opened his mouth to tell exactly what he thought of this "me" person, when the voice continued, "It's Gabriel." An image of a short, cocky man, his brother's roommate, popped into his head. It's been awhile since he last talked to him. For a second, Dean entertained the idea that maybe Gabe was calling to enlist his help in the latest prank against Sam. The clown paper was awesome; Dean has the pictures to prove it. He was starting to ask why the trickster was calling on Sam's phone, when he said the two words that froze Dean's blood.
"Sam's hurt."
His heart stopped for a minute while his brain tried to process what Gabe had said. Filling his lungs with much needed air, anger exploded in the mechanic; a coping mechanism for the fear he felt for his brother. "Who hurt him? What idiot hurt my baby brother?" he raged.
He could hear Gabe take a deep breath before explaining, "Sam was at the local gas station. He was just getting ready to pay for his stuff, when this guy ran into the store waving a gun." Another deep breath. "Sam tried to stop him; there were a few kids in the back of the store. Idiot was being a hero. He got the gun away from the man and had him unconscious, but there was another man...and he..." the man's explanation stuttered off.
The lack of any nickname regarding his brother's height or sarcasm of any sort only caused Dean's worry to increase. Gabe was rarely serious and almost never referred to Sam by his given name. To hear the trickster so solemn impressed upon Dean the severity of his brother's injury. "Gabe, how is he?" he whispered.
"Sam... Sammy was..." Dean could picture the tears that choked Gabe's voice. "...Dean, Sammy was shot."
SPNSPNSPNSPN
After obtaining directions from a barely understandable Gabe, Dean was on the road within ten minutes. His mind was repeating a mantra of "Sammy can't be hurt that bad. Sammy is okay. He'll be fine." Besides, Dean would know if it was serious...wouldn't he?
He had broken numerous speeding laws, but Dean had managed to make the 90 minute drive in just under an hour. No cop was going to prevent him from getting to his baby brother. He did not want to think of what might have happened if one had tried. An arrest would prevent him from seeing Sam and determining his health for himself.
When he raced into the hospital, a nurse pointed him to room 37B. A doctor met him outside the room and followed him in, rattling off obscure medical terms, but Dean's focus was solely on the man lying on the hospital bed. His 6'4" frame barely fit on the sterilized mattress, but the bandages covering his upper torso were in clear view. There was no reason his gentle giant of a brother should look that vulnerable. "How long 'til he wakes up, Doc?" he asked, cutting the doctor off mid-soliloquy.
"Thankfully, the bullet missed any important organs and veins. As I was about to say, surgery was successful, and your brother is expected to make a full recovery. "
"Yeah, but when will he wake up?" What he really wanted to ask was when he would see those big, puppy-dog eyes open, but he'd be in Hell before he admitted that. Well, Hell or his baby brother's hospital room; they amounted to the same thing.
"Sir, we are unable to predict an exact time..."
"What do you mean? My brother's lying in that bed and you can't tell me-"
"Dean?"
Dean's heart faltered at that voice. He turned, the doctor forgotten. "Hey, Sammy."
A/N: So this is actually a tie in to a longer story I'm starting to write. It will tell Sam's side of the robbery and explain what happens after. Hopefully, I'll be posting some of it next week :)
Since you're reading this I'm going to assume you've already read the story, so please review. Flames will be used for salt 'n' burns.