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Riding in the back of an ambulance...

Dad would be furious.

Never get a third party involved... too many questions, too many people...far too much unwanted attention.

Well, screw all that.

Dean had insisted, of course, in riding in the back of the ambulance with his brother.

The car?

The car could wait.

"Dad! He's bleeding!"

"Dean. Quiet."

Dean looked down at his little brother. Sam was only eight years old... and he hadn't stop crying, in between the screaming, for a full hour.

That said, Dean would be screaming too... he wasn't sure what it was that had bitten his little brother- but it was big and ugly... and their Dad was being far too calm, far too normal- but then it wasn't him watching Sam's blood stain his top...

"Dad, please! We need to take him to hospital! He..."

"And say what, Dean?" John took his eyes off the road for a second and glared at Dean. "You want to pass your brother over, is that it? Give him over to some stranger to take care of him? Ask questions? Prod him? Examine him? Scare the hell out of him? They'll take your brother away, Dean. You want that? You want that, Dean?"

"No!" Dean half screamed. His eyes which had been threatening with tears quietly spilled over. "I mean...no, sir."

"Good." John's voice was softer. "Good boy. That's it. Just calm down a bit- we're all going to be fine."

"Yes, sir."

"What's your most important job?"

"Look after Sammy."

"Good." John's eyes were back on the road. "That's good, Dean. Try to calm him down before we get back to the motel. That maid is already asking too many questions."

Dean looked down at his brother and held him close.

"Hey, Sammy. Shhhh okay? Not far to go... and you can have hot chocolate okay? And whatever you want on TV"

"Dean...it hurts... hurts bad!"

A fresh batch of tears and Dean looked worryingly at his father and then back down at his brother.

"I know, buddy...but it's not bleeding much, I promise."

Sam dissolved into small screams and burrowed his head into Dean's chest. John looked round, the crying of his youngest son finally too much.

"Hey Sam. Sammy. Wanna ride up front with Daddy. Hey? Be a big boy?"

Sam mumbled something between his tears and Dean nudged him gently.

"Hey, Sammy. Hear that? Dad says you can ride shotgun! Be his helper! Awesome, right?! I'll lift you over, okay?"

A shake of the head.

"Stay wid Dean. No move. Stay wid Dean."

Dean looked at his father, almost apologetically... but John' eyes were already back on the road.

"Okay, Sammy." Dean grasped is brothers shoulder. "Sit up a second."

Sam obeyed. Dean wrapped a blanket over his and Sam's shoulders. He then softly allowed Sam's head to rest back on his lap.

Sam's screams turned to hiccups as Dean softly stroked Dean's hair.

"That's a good boy, Sammy. You're being so good."

"Stay wid Dean?"

"Yes, buddy."

"Sleep in your bed tonight, pwease? "

"Okay, Sammy."

"Still hurts."

"I know, buddy... but you're being very, very brave"

John glanced back again... a mixture of pride and guilt filled him immediately.

Sam may be his son... but he wasn't his boy.

He was Dean's. No question.

"Sir, you're going to have to wait out here."

"He's my brother, I always..."

"I'm sorry, sir. I do understand but he's in safe hands."

"But..."

"I'l take you to the waiting room. There's space for you to get some sleep, or get a warm drink..." The nurse managed to sound both sympathetic and stern.

He must have dealt with some dickheads in his time.

"The waiting room... okay, sure...just..."

The nurse put a brief hand on his shoulder.

"We'll look after him, sir."

"You better."

"Yes sir."

Dean nodded once and allowed himself to be led away.

John pretended that he didn't care that Sam cried harder when he held him...

Or that the crying turned to sniffles when he passed Sam to his brother.

Or that it was Dean his young son's hand reached for whenever they left the house.

Everyone was getting what they deserved.

Sam was bandaged up, he had a hot chocolate in his hand and a biscuit that John didn't even know Dean had access to...

God knows he hadn't bought biscuits. Or hot chocolate.

He watched Dean , Sam on his lap, flick through the channels of the TV, trying to find something child friendly at midnight... and he felt his eyes fill with tears.

"Dad?"

Dean's voice was soft.

"Yeah, son?"

"Sammy will be okay...I'll look after him."

John smiled unconvincingly. "You better."