Dean spoils for a good fight.

It's his way of releasing emotions; a couple of punches at the local bar can usually settle him down for the night. If Sam is present, he watches carefully, staying a safe distance away but close enough for backup, should his brother need it.

Most of the time, Dean doesn't. After a brief argument, he and the hustler will either glare at each other and stalk off, or sometimes just laugh it off and play again, as if they're use to this.

However, sometimes it'll go too far. Dean doesn't really get drunk much – Sam doesn't think he can really any more – but his opponent may well be smashed. Although this gives him a disorientation advantage, it also cuts down the wit of the opponent. Sometimes, Dean leaves after a good couple of punches. Sometimes he stays until either him or the other has 'won'.

If Sam is there those times, he quickly intervenes before it gets too far, whether that be by talking or a punch thrown in. Often, interrupting gets him a punch from the other guy. Sam takes it, because it'd be worse if he didn't, and gets Dean out of there, as usual giving him a quick lecture on why he shouldn't do this.

But if Sam isn't there, which is quite rare, especially if he knows Dean is hustling, then anything can happen. Dean's a born and bred fighter; he usually gets one over his opponent sooner or later. However it can mean he has to drag himself back to the hotel room, or even call Sam for help sometimes.

Those moments trouble Sam. He's glad Dean calls him for help, and lets him patch him up when he comes crawling back, but the whole wrong fact that he wasn't there, and Dean got hurt, no matter if it was his fault, makes him uneasy. After a night like that Sam will usually keep an eye on his brother, and make sure either they avoid bars or go together.

Sam knows when Dean needs a good fight, too. If he's extra angry or just fixed with the buzz of hunting but they've nothing to go on, then Sam will almost take Dean to a bar, to occupy him, to give him something to do.

Dean drinks, too. They both drink, and they both stop for their own reasons. For example, there's no driving drunk, hunting drunk, or getting drunk and then going to hustle. All three are just a recipe for a disaster; and in their career, a slip could easily be lethal.

A lot of the time, Sam can tell when Dean needs alcohol. Of course, he always drinks it, but sometimes he really needs it to carry on. On those days, Sam might even get some for him, and watch over his brother carefully, just watching.

It's one of those days.

Dean's been drinking all day, and most of the time Sam was watching him. They had not managed to save a teenage girl from a Black Dog the night before, and that plus with Dean's frozen hell hound flashback moment he had – though he tried to deny it – left Sam feeling uneasy. So when Dean muttered he was going to the bar for something to do, Sam almost stopped him, or went with him. But he didn't.

There had been a lot of fights recently in bars, usually courtesy of Dean. Of course, it often wasn't exactly his fault, but he just had a gift of winding people up the wrong way. As a result, he already looked kind of beat up. Mix that with a Black Dog scratch on his shoulder, and it was a one way ticket to disaster. The kind Sam should have been there to prevent.

But he didn't go with Dean. He stayed in their motel room to research more on lore. Finishing that, he had glanced up at the clock; it was almost 2am. Worry started in his mind, with the single thought Dean should be back by now.

Sam had rang his brother, but of course there was no reply. He paced for another hour, then lay back on his bed, intending to think. However, his exhausted and concerned mind made him sleep almost instantly. He is woken unceremoniously by his phone beside the bed ringing. Tiredly, he reaches for it and answers the call without looking, holding it to his ear. "Hello?" he murmurs, squinting open his eyes and looking at the bedside clock; it's 6am.

"Sam Smith?" An unfamiliar female asks, business-like. Immediately, Sam's eyes fly open and he sits up so fast he almost gets headrush, and in the same moment he checks the caller ID; sure enough, it's the local hospital.

Shit, Sam thinks. There's only one reason for this call, and he doesn't like it one bit. He internally kicks himself for letting Dean go out alone, and furthermore, for not going to actually look for him after he didn't return.

"You are listed as your partner's emergency contact," the woman informs him; Sam sighs impatiently because why else would she be calling him from a hospital.

"What happened?" Sam asks quickly, already getting up and putting his shoes on, shrugging his jacket over his shoulders, and heading out.

The woman rustles paper on the line as Sam waits nervously for her reply. "It seems your partner, Dean Smith, was in a street fight last night," she tells him, and Sam's heart sinks. Dammit.

Sam's already walking in the direction of town. Dean had taken the car, but Sam knew the hospital was only a 10 minute walk, and he'd prefer to walk, as he was practically humming with tension.

"How badly is he hurt?" Sam demands, determined to know preferably before he gets there, so he can guess what to expect.

"We'd prefer it if you just came-" the woman begins, but Sam interrupts angrily.

"Just tell me," he orders her, walking fast. He can probably be there in 5 minutes now, but he wishes he had taken a car.

The woman sighs, probably used to dealing with emotional relatives. "Witnesses say he was being beaten, but was gaining the higher ground, so his opponent pulled out a knife," she tells him.

Sam's blood freezes in fear. Fuck. That's not good. That's not good at all. Dammit Dean... he thinks, clutching the phone to his ear and walking even faster.

"He was brought in, in shock and bleeding out, having been stabbed in the stomach," the woman went on without prompting. Papers rustle again, and Sam closes his eyes and wishes for patience. He doesn't have time for this, dammit.

"Is he okay now?" he asks almost pleadingly, seeing the hospital in front of him now, and quickening his step even further.

"Yes," the nurse confirms, allowing Sam to blow out a breath of relief. She continues, "Luckily the knife missed anything important, and it's just some muscle damage and pain. He's already insisting we let him go, but we can't until you get here."

Sam nods to himself. Of course they can't. Of course Dean wants out. He's almost there now, but has one more thing to do.

"Um, just one more question," he politely asks. "Did Dean start the fight, do you know?"

The nurse rifles through her notes one more time."According to the police report, no. In fact, witnesses say that he interrupted the person going for a different victim," she informs him.

Sam is slightly surprised, but he shouldn't be. "Okay. Thanks. I'll be there in two minutes," he says, and hangs up, quickening his pace again.

A minute later he reaches the double doors and enters, going straight to the reception desk. "Hey, I've just been called; my partner, Dean Smith, was in a street fight last night?" he says quickly.

The receptionist smiles politely and raises a finger to tell him to wait a moment as she scrolls through the computer. Sam drums his fingers on the desk and glances around at the few people in the waiting room.

"Ah, yes... he's in room 16, if you want to go and see him now? I'll page his nurse to come visit you both," she says with another polite smile.

Sam nods, adds "thanks," and strides off in the direction of the hospital rooms. He checks the numbers until he reaches 16, and, muttering what could be a prayer to the patron saint of alcoholism, opens the door.

Dean's clothed – clearly against the hospital's will – and is sitting on the side of the bed, leaning forward and a hand to his stomach and grimacing in pain. Clearly lying to the staff then.

"Hey," Sam interrupts, unable and not really wanting to, hide the relief in his voice. Dean looks up, hastily straightening up and working to smooth out his expression.

"Hey, yourself," he replies hoarsely, looking surprised but not surprised that Sam is there. He winces again, causing Sam to approach him.

Sam hesitates though, mind running through a hundred things. Did Dean blame him for letting him go off alone? Was he in a bad mood – hungover? Drugged?

Dean glances up at him, and notices Sam's kicked puppy face of you're-hurting-and-I-would-give-anything-to-help. He sighs and closes his eyes, smiling a little.

Realising what he could do, Sam sat next to Dean on the bed, and they just sat in silence for a minute. Dean took a sideways look at Sam, smiling as he thought about how much he loved that kid, and apparently, how much his little brother cared for him.

"First of all, Broody," Dean started, indeed interrupting Sam's brooding, who turned to look at him, surprised. "Not your fault I went off alone. Second, no I wasn't drunk, third, I'm fine."

Sam opened his mouth to call Dean out on his bullshit, but Dean held up a hand. "I mean," he emphasised, "I'm fine now."

Blinking at him for a minute, Sam realises Dean means now you're here I feel safe again. And he felt a smile on his face too.

"Okay, tough guy," Sam grins. "You wanna get out of here?"

Dean smirks. "Hell yeah. I mean, my nurse isn't even hot, dude," he informs Sam with a wink, and Sam knows that Dean's saying sorry for scaring him, and for what happened.

Simultaneously, the boys stand up, with a little groaning from Dean's part, and Sam leads the way out of the hospital, easily dodging the staff. Dean shows Sam where the Impala is, and after one pointed look, Sam drives them back to the hotel.

He narrows his eyes at Dean until his brother lets him see the wound dressing. After a cursory check, Sam decides that Dean is indeed fine. They've had worse.

Despite events, Dean's a little hung over, and when he stumbles on standing up, Sam shakes his head and puts his brother to bed, not heeding the mumbled threats about what he could do with his attitude.

With a big brother sleeping off alcohol and hospital painkillers, and a wound, Sam calls Bobby to update him on their situation. He decides they're headed there next. No matter how Dean is going to bitch, they are definitely taking a few days out.

Sam wakes midday the next morning, to find Dean's gone. Instantly sitting up and filled with dread and panic, the feelings immediately dissipate upon hearing his brother in the shower, singing, no less.

So instead of panic, Sam is filled with contentment, and then he sees that there are two cups of coffee and a box of donuts and bagels on the table. Looking at the bathroom door in surprise, he smiles to himself and goes to the fridge.

He finds there is no more alcohol there than beer, and even that sparsely. Even more surprisingly, there's a couple of bottles of juice or Gatorade. Sam smiles again and picks the orange juice, settling himself down at the table with a bagel.

He waits until Dean's out of the shower, still humming Led Zepplin. Clean and feeling much better, Dean joins his brother at the table, and Sam sighs with contentment, causing Dean to raise an eyebrow at him.

"Should I be worried?" Dean asks lightly, smirking. Sam shakes his head with a smile.

"Just... thanks, Dean," he says simply, and Dean nods in reply before turning to the more important task of drinking coffee and eating breakfast with his brother.

"Welcome. Not everyone can be as awesome as me, after all," he adds after a minute.

A scrunched up tissue hits his forehead and he grins. "Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam smiles too, just because he can now.


Literally don't know where this came from, but I like it! Just sitting here this morning, and had the urge to write and this came out. I've been on a bit of a protective!Sam spree bc of Season Nine so far, so here you go. Quite pleased with this random hour's work this morning. Don't worry, I'll be updating If You Touch Him Again next, hopefully. Please review! Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it how much I liked writing it! Don't own the characters, lucky for them ~Rayne