Sorry I didn't update last week. I've been really sick and haven't been able to do much of anything. I should be back on track now, though. Enjoy!
It's Not Your Fault
September 1988
Sam was in a lot of pain, and the bumpy sidewalk was not helping.
"What were you thinking, Sammy?" Dean scolded him, but his voice was full of worry. Dean looked more scared than Sam had ever seen him.
"You jumped too, and you were fine!" Sam argued.
John was gone on some hunt- Sam didn't bother keeping track of the details, anymore- but for once they had been pretty stable. They'd been in this town for almost 7 months, and they were renting a house. It wasn't permanent, but he figured it was as close as the Winchesters were ever going to get.
Dean and Sam were playing out back, near the shed.
Dean had tied a blanket around his neck to look like a cape, and was trying to get Sam to play the bad guy. Sam complained that Dean always got to be the good guy, and proclaimed himself to be Batman.
Sometime during the game, Dean had climbed up on the shed and jumped off in true superhero fashion.
Sam, not wanting his brother to upstage him, tried to do the same thing. Except when he jumped, he hit the ground hard, landing on his arm. It wasn't pretty, and now he found himself on Dean's handlebars, clutching at his arm for dear life.
"That doesn't mean you should!" Dean retorted.
Eventually they made it to the hospital, where Dean frantically told the nurse what happened.
After a couple minutes, a doctor was able to look at Sam and take an x-ray. Meanwhile, he heard Dean trying to convince a nurse that their dad was at work, and couldn't be called right now.
Eventually Dean gave up and gave her their father's number. As expected, he didn't pick up.
The x-ray showed Sam what he had already guessed- he had fractured his arm right above the elbow. Without a parent there, the Doctor couldn't prescribe any medication, or even let the kid leave. He told them they would continue to try and reach their dad.
Dean, however, knew that was futile. He stole a prescription pad and snuck Sam out of there, cast and all.
"You're such an idiot, Sammy," Dean got Sam comfortable on the couch in front of the TV. He pushed up a pillow against him so he could lie his arm on it. A glass of water and a can of soda were placed on the coffee table, beside him. Sam could hear the hum of the microwave heating up soup for him.
Sam remembered back when he was little, and he thought Dean was his mom. Not technically, of course. Everyone else's mom was the same age as their dad, and a girl. But he figured Dean had taken the place of his mother as well as his brother. He did all the same stuff.
Now he knew better than that, but he couldn't help but feel it was still kinda true. Dean was a good caretaker, and even though he was calling Sam an idiot, he was also doing whatever he could to make sure he was safe and sound.
"I'm not an idiot. I just... I didn't know that would happen."
Dean smiled playfully. "You know Batman can't fly, don't ya? He'd have hit the ground just like you." Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing his soda. When he looked back to his brother, his expression had changed. "No, it's not your fault, Sammy. It's mine. I shouldn't have let you do that."
"No, Dean-"
"No, seriously, Sammy. It's fine. You're my responsibility, and i blew it. That's what I'll tell Dad when he gets back." The microwave beeped, and Dean got up to go get it.
"Dean, come on. Dad will be mad. I'll just tell him I tripped, or something."
"He'll be even more mad if he finds out we lied." Dean set the bowl, a spoon, and a napkin on the coffee table and sat beside Sam.
"He'll never know, Dean. Besides, by the time he gets back I'll probably be fine. You don't even have to tell him."
Sam was well aware of how this family dynamic went. As much as he protested, he was Dean's responsibility. And John would be pissed that he let Sam get hurt. But Sam knew that it was his own fault, not Dean's. He didn't want his brother getting in trouble because of him.
Dean frowned. "Alright, Sammy. I won't mention it. How's it feel?"
"Its okay. But I won't be doing that again any time soon." Sam leaned his head on Deans chest. Dean let him lie there and turned the channel. Sam let the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest calm him.
As it turned out, John didn't get back for four more weeks. By then, Sam's arm felt mostly better, and he was able to easily hide the injury from his father.
He couldn't help but notice how useless John could be to him. He was never there when he needed him. He wasn't there when he was upset and crying, or when he needed to be taken to the hospital, or nursed back to health. Dean always did that stuff for him, and Sam could handle the rest.
It made him feel independent. It made him feel like he could handle himself, and one day he could take care of himself completely. He didn't have to stay here. He could do whatever he wanted.
"Anyone who does anything to help a child in his life is a hero to me. " ―Fred Rogers