Sam's mishap
I DO NOT, sadly, own any of these characters. The genius who made them is my hero..
In a motel near Boston, Dean watched over Sam on a hot summer afternoon. It was around 4 o'clock and Dean was watching the crappy afternoon cartoons while Sam read. Dean was 12 and Sam 9 at the time.
The sun had cleared the mist earlier that day and sun shone in on the boys. Sam set his book on the stained coffee table and looked up at Dean.
"I wanna go outside Dean."
"No, Sammy, Dad said no," Dean turned up the cartoons, not in the mood to deal with Sammy since dad had left this time. He hadn't been back in a few days and the boys were bored out of their minds.
"How come dad never lets us leave the room?" Sam whined.
"So we're safe. You know that." Dean looked down at the grimy burgundy carpet, understanding Sam's complaints. He wished they could go outside too but he knew Dad would rip them a new one if they dared leave the motel room.
"C'mon Dean, just for a few minutes?" Sam was persistent and Dean simply couldn't refuse those puppy dog eyes.
"Fine. OKAY. But only five minutes," Dean sighed. He grabbed the pistol by the door and put it in the back of his pants, hiding it under his tee shirt.
Dean opened the door for Sam and said "Don't leave my sight okay."
"Got it!" Sam shook his head up and down quickly and ran to the shabby looking playground that sat beside the motel parking lot.
Sauntering out, Dean locks the door behind him and peers into the sun. He can hear Sam swinging so he's not too concerned and decides to lay back on the warm pavement in the sweltering summer heat. Never having lived a normal childhood, this was as close to summer vacation as the boys ever got.
Suddenly Sam yelled out, "Dean! He-!"
Dean sprung from his relaxed position, heart racing, blood pumping in his ears.
"Sammy! What happened!?"
Sam was lying on the ground under the swings, cradling his left arm.
"I-I think I broke it Dean," Sam muttered.
No no no no no Dean thought, this cannot be happening. Dad's gonna kill us.
"Maybe you're okay, here c'mon we'll go inside," Dean picked his little brother up and took him back into the stuffy motel room, lying him down on the couch while he paced frantically. Dean knelt down beside Sam and nodded to his arm. Sam reluctantly shifted it to the side, wincing.
"Shit Sammy, it's broke," Dean cringed seeing the already black and blue wrist at a crooked angle, "how the hell are we gonna explain this one?"
"I'm sorry."
Just then, the boys heard the turning of the lock, their dad was back. John took one step in the door and stopped, eyes glued to Sam's arm and Dean's horrified expression.
"What happened?" he shot the question to Dean as he bent over Sam, relieved they were okay save the broken arm.
"Well, sir… we just went outside for a few minutes and Sam fell of the swings," Dean choked out an answer, "we just wanted to go outside for a little bit."
John stood up and glared sternly at Dean, angry yet concerned eyes flashing, "Listen to me Dean, it's for your safety that you two stay inside. There's more than swing accidents waiting for you two out there. Now that you've both learned your lesson, lets take Sam to the hospital and then we'll go get some burgers for lunch. Sound good to you boys?"
They both looked up at their father, puzzled.
"Wait, you're not mad?" Sam asked.
"I'm just glad you two are alright and I know you won't do it again."
Sam and Dean shared a glance and a relieved sigh, following their dad out the door and into the truck. Only a cast and some greasy burgers made for a pretty good day in the Winchester's book.