The next hour went by really fast. Sam, Dean, Natalie and Angela were all driven to the hospital in an ambulance while a paramedic examined Sam's arm. By this Sammy had stopped crying and was just whimpering softly while a doctor looked him over.

"Well, Sammy, it's definitely broken, but it doesn't look too bad. We'll put it in a cast as soon as we get to the hospital and then you'll be good as new. Okay?"

Sam nodded and another paramedic turned to Dean. "Sweetie, we're going to have to call one of your parents as soon as possible. Can you give us your mom or dad's phone number?"

"Sure," Dean said quietly. He gave the paramedic John's phone number. He was nervous about giving it out like that, since John had told him never to call him while he was on a hunt unless it was an absolute emergency.

Once the ambulance got to the hospital, Sammy was wheeled away behind some doors. Dean tried very hard to get the workers to let him go with his brother, but they were set against it.

"No, honey, you're going to have to wait here while we look your brother over. We've already called your father, he'll be joining you soon."

Dean gulped. That was hardly good news since John was going to kill him as soon as he arrived on the scene. But worse than that, Dean couldn't step away from the feeling of guilt that was engulfing him like a cloud. It was his fault that Sammy got hurt, he was supposed to have been watching him. Dean sunk into a waiting room chair, miserable and sat that way for a long time.

Dean snapped out of his reverie once he heard his name being called by Natalie. He had forgotten all about her, he was so worried about Sammy.

"Dean," she said. "My mom's coming to the hospital to pick me and Angela up. So we're going to have to go outside to wait for her. Do you want to come with us?"

"I can't," Dean said miserably. "I have to stay here until my dad comes."

"Well, OK," Natalie said. "I'm sorry about what happened, Dean. I hope Sammy's alright."

"It's not your fault," Dean mumbled. "It's mine. I'll see you at school, Natalie."

He waved to her and Natalie left to wait outside for her mom with her little sister. Dean, meanwhile, continued thinking about all that had happened. It was all his fault. He shouldn't have gone to McDonald's. He shouldn't have let Sammy go to the playground by himself. He was a terrible older brother.

Dean would have sat there for a long time, worrying about Sammy and being hard on himself, but pretty soon John came in. Dean could tell it was him without looking up from the floor by the way he jingled his keys whenever he came into a room. John gave him a quick look and headed straight for the reception counter.

"Hi," he said. "I am the father of Samuel Winchester, the boy who was wheeled in with a broken arm."

"Ah, yes," the nurse said. "We're afraid, Mr. Winchester, that since your son has already been admitted into the room, we cannot let you go in there now. But do not worry, he'll be out soon. The doctor said that it was a simple procedure. Meanwhile, you can sit there with your other son while you fill out these forms. Dean here has been very worried about his younger brother. Someone needs to reassure him that he's going to be okay."

"Sure," John sighed. "Thank you for your help."

John went over to Dean and sat down next to him, but Dean continued staring at the floor, avoiding John's gaze.

"Dean," John said. "Look at me."

Dean looked up. Damn, John thought. The kid looks so scared.

"Tell me what happened," John said gently. "Don't leave anything out."

It was then that Dean relayed what had happened earlier to his father, slowly and pausing in between sentences to look at his father's face and try to guess, by his expression, what he was thinking about.

"And that's what happened… I'm sorry sir, I should have been watching him better. I'm sorry," Dean finally finished his tale right before reaching to wipe the few tears that have begun to make their way down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

John took a deep breath. There were so many things that he wanted to tell Dean, about safety and looking out for his younger brother. At the moment, though, Dean looked to pitiful to even begin any kind of talking. "Dean, come here," John said, motioning for Dean to sidle closer next to him.

Dean glanced at his dad wearily before climbing over the seat handle and allowing John to put an arm around him. "But… aren't you mad?"

"Well, I'm not happy," John replied. "But no, I'm not mad."

"But… it was my fault. I was supposed to have been watching Sam."

"You were… But I was supposed to have been watching you. I never should have left the two of you alone that night."

"But, but…." Dean didn't know what to say. He still felt like this was all his fault, what had happened to Sammy.

"Sh, Dean, accidents happen. Remember that time when you were little when you crashed into the edge of the table? How do you think I felt? I was supposed to have been watching you."

Dean fingered the scar on his temple. "Yeah, but Sammy's not little anymore. I shouldn't have let him go to the playground by himself."

"Dean, Dean," John said, pulling him closer. "No one ever expects you to be perfect one hundred percent of the time. Letting him go to the playground isn't that crazy. I'm just happy that Sammy's okay. The doctor said that it's just a broken arm."

"It should have been me that ended up with the broken arm," Dean said, sadness emanating from his whole body. "Sammy didn't deserve it."

"Dean, I don't ever want to hear you say that, ever. No one ever deserves a broken bone. But these things do happen and you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Just use this as a learning experience to keep something like this from happening in the future."

"I thought you'd be mad…" Dean mumbled. "You know, at me, for not watching Sammy…"

"Dean…" John said. "The only person I should be mad at right now is me. Someone your age is not supposed to have this much responsibility placed on his shoulders. I'm sorry, son."

Dean didn't really understand what John was trying to say, but he took that as a sign that his dad wasn't mad at him. That made him feel a little bit better. Meanwhile, John opened up his arms.

"Come here, son," John said. Dean came over hesitantly, but soon found himself in the arms of his father, who gave him one of his rare, but famous bear hugs. That's when Dean started to cry, really hard. Today had been a long day and he was so tired. He cried from sadness, from worry, but also from pure exhaustion. He couldn't believe that Sammy got hurt because of something he had done. Dean spent the next few minutes sitting there crying while John rubbed comforting circles in his back. Time goes by slower when you're that upset.

Luckily, though, they didn't have to wait for much longer because a doctor came out, holding Sammy's hand.

"Mr. Winchester," he said. "I give you your son."

"Sammy!" John said, picking up the six year-old. "You alright, kiddo?"

"Yeah, Daddy, I'm good. The doctor gave me medicine, so my arm doesn't hurt as much anymore. Then he put it into a cast. Look, I even got to pick out the colours!" Sammy smiled, pointing at his green cast. "I chose green!"

"That's great, Sammy," John said, ruffling his youngest's hair. "I bet you were real brave in the emergency room."

"Oh he was," the doctor chimed in. "Mr. Winchester, Sammy here did in fact break an arm, but he was lucky because it wasn't too serious…" the doctor went out to explain the details to John. Meanwhile Dean turned to Sammy.

"Hey, Sammy, how are you? Does your arm hurt?"

"No, not really, the doctor made it better. It hurt before."

"That's good," Dean tried to smile. "Sammy, I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sammy looked down at his brother, confused.

"For not watching you better."

"Dean, it's not your fault," Sam said. "I just falled off."

"Yeah, but…"

"No, Dean, not your fault," Sammy smiled and Dean pretended to smile back. Arguing with Sammy was pretty much useless.

"OK, boys," John said. "We can go home now. Say 'thank you' to the doctor."

Dean and Sam thanked the doctor quietly and the three of them went back home. At home, John placed Sammy onto the couch, so that he could rest while watching T.V. After that he cooked the boys some spaghetti-O's, since they hadn't eaten anything for a while. Before they knew it, it was time for bed.

"Here, Sammy, I'll carry you to your room," John said, picking Sammy up. "Dean, why don't you go take your bath while I put Sammy to bed?"

"OK, Daddy," Dean said, going into the bathroom. He went on to take his bath. After he came out, he noticed that the lights to Sammy's room were already turned off.

"Sh, son," John said, coming up behind them. "Try not to wake Sammy."

"OK, Dad," Dean said. "I just forgot my pyjamas in there. Can I go in quietly?"

"Sure," John said. He was sure that Dean wouldn't do anything to wake his brother. "Just be quick."

Dean went in quietly. He had lied, though. He hadn't forgotten his pyjamas in there. He just wanted to take a look at Sammy. The kid looked so peaceful, sleeping there. Dean felt even worse for what he had done. He reached over, stroking his brother's hair gently.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he whispered, letting another tear trail down his face. "I'm so sorry."