AN: Sort of tag to "Everybody Loves a Clown" 02x02. When Deans anger after his dad's death becomes too much, how will he cope and mend things with his remaining family after the thing most precious to him is put in harm's way. This might be a one-shot but it depends how we go.

Limp!hurt!upset!Sam Angry!angst!guilty!Dean Angry!protective!worried!Bobby

Disclaimer: As much as it pains me to say it, I do NOT own the wonderful mind of Eric Kripke and Robert Singer. I wish I owned them wonderful boys and their beautiful faces but again, I sadly don't. If I did ... holy crap. I don't even know what I would do. Probably collapse and cry for eternity. Oh Lord, I'm starting to sound like Becky... Don't worry boys! I won't try and marry you by giving you a love potion (but I can dream, right?).

Warning: Language and violence. Dean needs to get a hang on that potty mouth of his and quit trying to kill people.

Chapter one

Dean was pissed. In fact, to say he was pissed would be an understatement. His dad was dead, his little brother kept trying to get him to talk about his feelings, and Bobby wanted to make sure that he was fed and rested.

He wished that everyone would just leave him the hell alone and let him deal with his problems on his own, and let them deal with theirs.

Dean knew that Sam was hurting and although his baby brother kept trying to speak to him, Dean would shove him off and get back to working on the Impala.

It had been a couple of hours since Dean had taken out some of his anger on the car that he regarded as his baby. It scared Dean to think about what his anger could do if he didn't try harder to control it.

Sam had watched the whole scene with the Impala with tears swimming in his eyes. He knew he would have to speak to Dean about this but he decided to leave it for a bit. He took a seat on the worn couch in Bobby's library and groaned when a sharp pain ran through his side. The pain was so great that he felt dizzy and sick.

"You okay son?" Bobby asked from his desk near the couch.

"I'm fine," Sam brushed him off in the famous Winchester way. The truth was he wasn't fine. His body had been in pain since the crash after he signed himself out of the hospital AMA to take care of his brother and dad. He also felt like his world had come crashing down around his ears and nobody cared enough make sure that he was okay. His dad was dead and now his brother had fallen off the band wagon. It was Dean who needed the attention; not him.

"Sam, that's a load of horse crap and you know it." Bobby grumbled. "Really, are you doing okay?"

Sam looked up at Bobby and gasped when another shot of pain ran through his side. He shook his head and tried to clear the dizziness. When he next looked up, Bobby was crouched in front of him with his finger lightly touching the hem of his shirts.

Bobby lifted his shirts as gently as he could, but he couldn't stop the small whimper that escaped Sam's lips. When Bobby saw the colour of Sam's torso, it was his turn to gasp.

Sam's body was covered in a whole variety of colours from blacks to yellows.

"Is this from the crash?" Bobby asked gently.

Sam nodded and hung his head in shame. He was trying to manage the pain in order to not bring any more worry to his family.

"You need to tell Dean." Bobby said and pulled his shirts back down.

Sam shook his head stubbornly. "No, Bobby. He already has enough on his mind and I can't let him start worrying about me."

"He's your brother, ya idjit." Bobby said and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "He's supposed to worry about you. I'll tell him if you won't and I'm sure he'll be pissed to find out you've been keeping things from him."

Sam gave in a nodded at the floor. As he stood, another spell of dizziness overtook him and he swayed where he stood. Bobby caught his shoulders and tried to set him back on the couch, but Sam pushed him off.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I need to speak to Dean."

Bobby watched as the young man staggered through the kitchen and out the door into the salvage yard. Damn Winchesters.

Sam stumbled through the yard until he found Dean.

"D'n," Sam slurred and steadied himself on one of the cars.

The elder Winchester turned around and as soon as his eyes fell on his brother, his face turned cold and cruel.

"What the hell, Sam? Have you been drinking?" He yelled and stepped closer to the younger man.

"No Dean. We ... we need to ... talk." Sam tried to explain through moments of pain and dizziness.

"Damn right we need to talk!" Dean continued to yell ignoring Sam's pained expression. "Just because you're hurting doesn't mean that you can drown your sorrows by drinking all the booze in the house and listening to crappy emo music."

Sam clutched his chest and doubled over slightly.

"Great. Now you feel sick and who will be left to clean up your mess? I think it's me!" Dean sneered sarcastically. "You are a selfish son of a bitch."

"Dean ... I'm not ... I'm not drunk." Sam could barely get his words out now. "I just ... just need to talk. I don't ... want to ... want to hurt you."

"Really Sammy? Cause I'd say that's exactly what you're doing!" Dean advanced on Sam. "How about I hurt you and see how much you can take?"

Before Sam had time to process what was happening, Dean had shoved him to the ground and was sat on his sore chest throwing punches repeatedly into his already bruised face. Sam brought his hands up to protect himself but gave up when he realised that there was no point.

He could feel himself sliding off into unconsciousness when he heard someone yell "Dean!" from across the yard. The weight was lifted from his chest and he could swear that he heard something crack. He eyes suddenly fell shut and he was dead to the world.

When Sam woke up, he could hear a steady beeping and figured that he must be in a hospital. His eyes widened and his heart rate quickened as he realised that they had been in a car crash and he needed to find his dad and Dean.

His fingers tugged on the IV in the back of his hand and the oxygen mask over his face. He tried to sit up when he cried out from and pain in his chest and someone's hands pushed him back onto the bed. The oxygen mask was placed back over his face and the IV was pushed firmly back into position. He could feel someone rubbing circles on the back of his hand and he looked towards the person.

He blinked a couple of times before Bobby came into view.

"Calm down, Sam." He soothed. "You're okay. You're in the hospital, but you're okay."

"Dean," Sam croaked. "I need ... need to find Dean."

"Sam, Dean didn't think it was a good idea to come here after what he did to you." Bobby told him. "I can call him if you want but I think you would be better with some time apart."

"W-what do you mean, "What he ... did to me"?" Sam breathed.

"He punched the living daylights out of you, kiddo." Bobby reminded him.

The events of the day suddenly came flooding back to him. He remembered trying to tell his brother that he was hurt before Dean began to punch him.

"I need to see him," Sam told Bobby before his eyes fell shut.

When Sam next opened his eyes, Dean was sitting in the chair that Bobby had sat in previously.

"W-water," Sam croaked as his eyes landed on a jug that sat on a table behind his brother.

Dean nodded wordlessly before pouring Sam a glass and helping him to sip through a straw. Sam breathed a small thanks to Dean before the glass was set down.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered and Dean's head snapped up. "You've had to deal with so much and I just keep adding to it."

"Sam, cram those apologies up your ass." Dean snapped. "I'm the one who should be saying sorry. I ignored you while you were still hurting and when you tried to speak to me, I got angry and beat the crap out of you."

"It's okay," Sam smiled. "We're good."

And for the first time since before the crash, Dean smiled a genuine smile.