Challenge Issued by: CiZiwejes
Happy Birthday to my fellow Warrior of WINchester!
Beta: Enviousxbeauty
Disclaimer: I don't own them, they are safer with Kripkie.

As Time Goes By

Dean slumped in their booth and poked at his cheeseburger glumly. Sam looked at him and frowned. "Dean?" he asked softly. "Do you want just get some pie?"

Dean looked up and shook his head. His forehead creased at the sudden stab of pain in his midsection. He dropped his fork and grasped his middle gasping. "Urgh.."

Sam stood up. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Dean gasped as another wave of stomach cramps swept through him.

Sam touched Dean's shoulder. "C'mon, let's go back to the motel…"

Dean brushed his hand aside and stood up. "Fine." He groaned.

Sam hastily paid the bill and they were gone from the diner. Sam drove back to the motel as Dean leaned against the Impala window taking deep breaths. They parked at the Shady Oaks Motel and went inside to the broken motel room. Dean leaned on the doorway and weakly pushed the door open. He stumbled into the motel and immediately collapsed on the bed. He pulled his knees up to his chest and trembled as the cramps intensified.

Sam walked in to the room and was immediately beside his brother. He pulled off Dean's jacket, trying to make him more comfortable. After shrugging Dean's jacket off he noticed the dark red stain growing just above Dean's pelvic bone.

Sam reached out a hand to pull back Dean's short black tee–shirt. He saw a peak of yellow bruising and something aside from blood oozing out. Dean looked at him with a glare. "Don't touch it."

He swatted away Sam's hand. Sam glared at him. "Dean is this from the last hunt?"

Dean started to defend himself but Sam shook his head. "I saw you fly into that banister, don't even lie to me. Honestly, why did you think you could patch it up yourself?"

Dean shrugged. "When you were at Stanford I got pretty good at stitching myself up. I just didn't want to worry you, okay?"

"Pretty good, huh? Then why are you bleeding out?" Sam crossed his hands over his chest. "I'm taking you to the hospital. This could be infected."

Dean rolled his eyes as exhaustion set into his bones. "Sam, noooo," he whined, "I don't want to… ugh."

He groaned as the cramps kicked him again. "We're going." Sam said firmly as he pulled a blanket over Dean. "I'm calling to make an appointment while you rest."

Dean grumbled but wearily accepted the sleep that overcame him.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean woke up to the rumble of the Impala. He blinked a couple of times and yawned. "Sammy, why'd you let me sleep so much?"

"You're welcome." Sam grunted as he pulled into the parking lot of the local hospital.

With Sam's help, Dean walked semi-stable up to the hospital doors. They sat together in the waiting room fidgeting.

Eventually they were called into a private room to be with a physician. Dean leaned heavily on Sam's shoulder as they sat on the examination table. Dr. Cracken walked in nose down on her clipboard. Dean clutched his stomach in pain again as she looked up.

"What seems to be the problem?" She said picking up her pen.

"We were hunting up by our cabin," Sam repeated the rehearsed lie, "and he fell down on the woodpile."

The doctor set down her clipboard and walked over to Dean. "Alright," she motioned with her hand, "let me see it."

Dean grimaced but lifted his shirt up to reveal his stunningly well tanned abdomen criss-crossed with bruises and scars. "Real piece of work, huh?" Dean grinned.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Dr. Cracken saw the most recent six inch long wound. The black string that held Dean together was frayed and barely pulling the skin tight enough to seal it. She grabbed her clipboard.

"Was there anything in the woodpile?" she addressed Sam as she hastily began scribbling down notes on her clipboard. "Nothing that might have gotten in there?"

Sam thought for a second. Dean looked at him and whispered in his ear that he thought it could have been something on the banister. The haunted house had been ostentatious to say the least, and if he remembered correctly the banisters had decorative iron on them. "Maybe iron?" Sam guessed.

"Well, I think we're going to have to do an x-ray." Dr. Cracken shook her head. "And probably surgery to get out what's infecting your…."

"Brother." Sam said firmly.

"Right." She smiled, ripping a note off her note pad. "Can you boys make it down to room 106 A? They'll be expecting him."

Sam thanked her and left.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean infinitely preferred getting his mug shot taken than being told to lie still on an ice cold table when all he wanted to do was curl up in ball. When the pictures were done, he and Sam where whisked back to the doctor's office.

She held them up and shook her head. "That's a mighty interesting woodpile." She speculated. "Looks like you definitely got a decorative iron tip in your side."

"And?" Dean asked her for the millionth time. "What does it mean?"

"Surgery." She said glumly. "It won't hurt much, just a small incision to insert a camera that'll guide us to take out this nasty iron tip."

Sam asked attentively. "Laparoscopic?"

"Yes." Doctor Cracken nodded glumly. "With your permission on these forms we can be ready for him in two days."

Dean grumpily signed the papers.

Sam looked at his brother with a tired smile. "Don't worry Dean, it'll be fine."

Dean just rolled his eyes and stifled back another groan.

o-o-o-o-o

Two days passed with moaning and not enough Advil. "No wonder girls are so mean," Dean said clutching his stomach on the way back to the hospital, "This friggin' hurts!"

Sam laughed lightly as they parked back in the hospital. He helped Dean inside, despite much protesting, and signed his grumpy brother in. Dean was whisked away from him and sent over to surgery preparation.

Sam watched him go and felt a chill creep into his bones. Something felt wrong. The minutes ticked by him, as he paced and thought.

He looked up as Nurse Ezra approached him with a frown on her face. "There have been some complications," she bit her lip, "we need you to know that the doctors are dealing with it, but the surgery was little difficult."

"What!" Sam yelled, jumping up from the waiting room chairs.

"The equipment we used," she lowered her eyes, "caused a slight electrical burn. We're monitoring his side and the equipment. Other than that the surgery is going fine..."

Sam stood up, towering over the petit brunette. "You go back in there and watch them carefully. They had better do their damn job right." He said in between clenched teeth.

She nodded and backed away from Sam.

As soon as she was gone, he relaxed into a chair.

Back against the wall in sanitized waiting room, silent tears streaming down his cheek, Sam remembered what date it was: January 24th.

Dean's birthday.

Sam pulled his knees close to his chest. Extra laps, broken yo-yos, empty beer bottles- those were Winchester ways of celebrating birthdays.

Not laparoscopic surgery.

He started to count the ceiling tiles to pass the time. 361 and one half a tile later, he was looking at the surgery bay doors expectantly.

C'mon Dean, he prayed, you gotta pull through…

o-o-o-o-o

Momentary panic filled his system as his green eyes scoured the hostile environment assessing every detail. He relaxed almost instantly when he saw Sam leaning in the small chair by his bed. Dean smiled and coughed to get Sam's attention.

Sam woke up instantly at the sound of movement. Dean laughed at him. "Hey S'm…"

Dean woke a little bit more when Sam leaned forward with a glass of water. "Hey Dean. How you feeling?"

He ruffled Dean's hair and pulled the blankets over him.

"Pretty good." Dean gave a lopsided grin. He squirmed under the covers. "Thanks, Sammy."

"That's what brothers are for." Sam shrugged falling into the chair next to Dean.

The steady heart monitor was a pulse that tied them together. Dean quickly fell back asleep under the pain killer's influence.

Sam patted his hand. "Happy birthday."

.:The End:.