A/N: Quick drabble, nothing special. Did this while I had some free time and is purely produced out of boredom. Hope you enjoy and I apologize if there's any grammar or spelling errors! :)
When you think of Sam, you think of Dean. When you think of Dean, you usually think of Sam. It's just how the two were made. Inseperable. When hunters think about the Winchesters, they immediately know not to fuck around with them because one, they always come back no matter how hard you kill them, and number two, they always get their revenge. When hunters think about the Winchesters, they also usually find themselves debating about whether or not it'd be likely of their chances for survival if they ever were to hurt one of the brothers.
When you thought of the Winchesters, you thought of the brothers that sacrificed everything and anything for the each other. You thought of that big brother who'd kill anyone who even looked at Sammy wrongly and you thought about that little brother that'd interogate ever human on the planet earth until he got a location for his missing one. When you thought of the Winchesters, you thought of two things. One, to never double-cross them. And two, to never fuck with the other brother, because when you think you've got the upper hand on one of em' the other comes around swinging.
Something people didn't think about though was what'd happen if one brother were to severely hurt the other?
Well, hunters around the globe might just find out if Dean chooses wrongly.
His gun was pressed against both of his hands as the two held it firmly in place. Two Sams stood in front of him, same outfit, same hair, same height, and same puppy dog look. The first one had his hands raised ever so slightly as he lowered his own gun, swallowing nervously as he took a step back from his weapon. The second one had his gun pointed at the first Sam, his eyes narrowed as he glared at what Second Sam thought was the imposter.
"Come on, Dean." Second Sam growled, sharing a glance with Dean, "Just shoot the shapeshifter."
The older Winchester growled deeply, pointing his gun between the two, his chest heaving as the reality crushed itself onto his shoulders. If he fucks up, his baby brother might just end up dead. Dean's attention turned to the first Sam as he shook his head, "Dean, it's me." The first Sam snuck a glance at the second Sam who had his gun raised high and bit his lip quickly before turning his attention back to Dean and pointing to himself, "Brother," he pointed towards Second Sam, "shapeshifter."
The Second Sam growled, "Dean, stop being ridiculous and just shoot it already!
His gut was telling him one thing, but his fingers couldn't pull the trigger. He had to be sure, even if he gut was practically screaming who it thought- knew was the real Sam. His hands began to tremble as the Second Sam snapped, his patience clearly running thin, "Stop being such a fucking pansy and sho-"
"Dude, I swear to God, if you don't shut that pie-hole of your's I'll shoot you in your damn foot."
The Second Sam grew quiet awful quickly as his glare returned to the first Sam who still stood in a defensive, passive stance, as if to say that he didn't want to hurt Dean.
The older brother soon grinned, looking in between the two Sams to see who'd reply correctly, and quickly wiping the smirk from his face as he replaced it with a fake scowl, "Bitch."
"What?" The Second Sam growled, "Why'd you call me a bitch?"
The first Sam chuckled, standing a bit taller and faking a glare, "Don't call me a bitch, Jerk."
Dean smiled at the first Sam who turned his attention towards Second Sam. The shapeshifter growled deeply with anger, pulling the trigger at Sammy and running off. Sam fell to the ground as he clutched his chest tightly, his red flannel beginning to puddle an even deeper shade of red as his hearing began to tune out. He barely heard the muffle yell of his brother as he screamed, "No!", the way he had so many years ago after Jake, from the yellow-eyed-demons Hunger-Game simulation, had stabbed him.
Dean ran towards his brother, full sprint as he cocked the gun and began shooting at the shapeshifter. It took a few shots but he managed to hit the bastard right in the head instantly killing him. Dean dropped his gun, scooping his baby brother who was miraculously two inches taller than himself into his arms and pressing his hand against his brother's chest to stop the bleeding.
"Hey, hey, Sammy. I gotcha, it's okay. I'm here." He talked quickly, producing cooing words to stop Sam from struggling and thrashing the way he was. "It's okay, little brother, I got you. I always got you." Dean held his brother's head to his chest as Sam's eyes began to roll to the back of his head, his eyelids slowly drooping. "Hey, stay with me." Dean patted his brother's cheek, but there wasn't a response.
Dean stood, lugging his sasquatch-sized brother into the back of the Impala as he pressed pressure onto his chest from the front seat and stepped on the gas all the way to the bunker. He raced inside once he got there, placing Sam on a vacant table and grabbing towels as he checked for a pulse. Thankfully, there was a soft one, but it was there. He breathed a sigh of relief as he began to pat his brother's cheek, all the while calling his brother's name and telling him to wake up.
Shortly after beginning to apply pressure with towels to his brother's chest, he began calling for Castiel to get his ass there ASAP. It took a few minutes, but Cas was there soon enough. When he saw the scene though, he froze in his spot.
"Cas, God dammit, I need your help! Use some angel mojo or whatever the hell and heal him!"
"How did this happen, Dean? Who is responsible for shooting Sam?" Castiel asked, his voice gruff and low.
"Now really isn't the damn time for twenty questions, Castiel! Just poof him better all ready!"
"But Dean I need to-"
"Now!" Dean snapped, his body temperature rising as Sam's decreased.
Castiel pressed his lips together with frustration before placing his fingers on Sam's forehead and quickly taking his fingers away. "There."
Dean didn't waste time to snap open Sam's shirt, the buttons of the flannel flying off. He sighed with relief as there wasn't a bullet hole any longer in his brother's chest, but instead just plain skin. God, he'd never been so happy to see skin. Dean patted his brother's cheek as he began to shake his shoulder, "Hey, Sammy, wake up."
Sam groaned his head spinning and pounding, "God, my head's killing me."
Dean grinned, his arms looping his brother's body into his chest as he sighed deeply, "Don't you ever do that to me again, you hear?"
Castiel smiled gently, seeing that Sam was now okay. He turned to leave but was stopped after Dean reached his hand out and placed it on the angel's shoulder, "Thanks, man. I owe you one."
Cas shook his head thoughtfully, "It's alright, Dean. Anything for family."
When you think of the Winchesters, you tend to associate them with each other. When you think of the Winchesters you think of brotherly love and sacrifice and heartache and torture, but you mainly think about family. You think about how no matter what happens, no matter what obstacles they jump through, they always end up back together again like that annoying couple in highschool that can't live with having their Facebook status to In a Relationship for more than a few days.
Something you never think about though is what happens if one brother severely hurts the other, and the reason behind that is because it's never happened. Nor will it happen.