Dean struggled free from the guard, running ahead to where his little brother was lying in the road. The road had come to a standstill, the woman driving the car was near hysterics and had been taken to sit down. Passers-by had stopped, and a crowd was beginning to form by the roadside. The eleven year old pushed through the crowds desperately, trying his best not to cry. What if Sam was dead? He'd be on his own, his father would never forgive him. He was meant to watch out for his little brother, but his little brother just got hit by a car.
"Sammy?" the older boy knelt beside his brother, afraid to touch him in case he hurt him, "Sammy, wake up, you gotta wake up."
Sam came to after a couple minutes, his expression clearly dazed and confused. He looked around nervously, whimpering feebly.
"Sammy!" Dean breathed a sigh of relief, "Are you alright? Talk to me!"
"Dean?" the six-year-old mumbled, looking up at his brother slowly. His face crumpled as he let out a sob, "Hurts."
Tears filled Dean's eyes as Sam began to cry, his chest wheezing painfully as he reached up to his brother, "I'm scared, Dean."
"You're gonna be just fine, Sammy. I promise. We'll get you all patched up," the protective big brother ran a hand through Sam's hair gently, but almost gagged when he felt hot, sticky blood.
The security guard from the store walked over, and Dean couldn't hold back his anger.
"This is your fault! You scared my brother and he ran out in the road!" he shoved the huge guard, but he didn't budge.
"If you hadn't been stealing, he wouldn't have been scared at all," he snapped, "I've called 911. There's an ambulance on its way to your brother. I'm not finished with you yet."
"I'm not going anywhere without Sam," Dean's voice shook, "My brother got hit by a car, he could die!"
The eleven year old couldn't hold back his tears any longer. He began to cry, sitting on the road beside Sam, who was drifting in and out of consciousness, "I'm not leaving him on his own."
He held onto Sam's hand tightly as he waited for the ambulance, squeezing it occasionally and reassuring him when he cried. The younger boy was so confused, he didn't understand what happened and kept crying in pain and for Dean to hug him. Dean wanted to, he wanted to hold Sam like he had when he was a baby, protect him from harm, but the guard wouldn't let him in case the movement hurt Sam even more. All Dean could do was hold his brother's hand and hope for the best.
The woman that hit Sam came over to them, after having calmed down from her hysteria, apologising repeatedly, offering them money and trying to talk to Sam. However terrified he was, Dean couldn't blame her for what happened. Sam was terrified, not to mention very sick, he hadn't been looking where he was going and ran out in a panic. Sam didn't respond to her, he appeared to have fallen asleep.
The ambulance arrived and Sam began to panic. Without warning he was lifted onto a stretcher, a brace around his head to keep his neck in place, and was being carried away. The young boy was crying from the moment they started, and started screaming for Dean as he was carried onto the ambulance. Dean ran after them, trying his best to reassure him.
"Sammy, Sammy, its okay," Dean sniffled, wiping his eyes, "You're okay, buddy. They're gonna make you all better."
Dean was sat in the corner of the ambulance while the paramedics were trying to talk to Sam.
"Sam, is that your name, sweetheart? Can you talk to us? Tell us what's wrong?" a young female paramedic spoke softly, but was drowned out by Sam's crying. He wasn't listening, too freaked out to pay attention to anything else.
"Let me try," Dean spoke up, but the paramedic's dismissed him and kept trying it their way. Impatiently, the eleven year old stood up, unstrapping himself from his seat and stumbling unsteadily in the moving vehicle, and strode over to his brother.
"Sammy? Sammy, listen to me," Dean reached and took his little brother's hand, and almost instantly Sam quietened and looked at his brother, "Hey, see? I'm right here."
"D-Dean," Sam cried, "I'm scared."
"I know. I know. But you're gonna be alright, I promise. You just gotta talk to these guys, okay?" Dean gestured to the paramedics.
"I want Daddy," Sam wailed, clutching at Dean's hand and beginning to cough.
"I know, I do too, Sammy. He'll be here soon, just you wait. You'll wake up in the hospital and he'll be right there waiting for you, I promise," Dean tried to smile convincingly.
"You keep promising Dad will come back and he doesn't," Sam whimpered.
Dean flinched at the unexpected comment, letting out a slow sigh, "I know. I don't know where he is, Sammy. But he's going to be back soon. He will."
The paramedics exchanged confused, concerned glances. Were these kids left on their own? Something didn't seem right.
"Now, you gotta talk to these guys. They're gonna help you get better. Alright?"
Sam nodded slightly, as much as the neck brace would allow, "'kay."
"That's my boy," Dean smiled, looking at the paramedics, "S'all yours."
Sam finally cooperated and told them where he had pain, and a large coughing fit led to an oxygen mask being put on his face. Eventually, he dropped off to sleep, and Dean was taken to a waiting room while his brother was taken to be treated and examined.
Bobby pulled into the town at long last, and could only hope the boys were okay. It had been a good few days since they'd run out of motel money, but perhaps John had picked them up already. He groaned at a large queue of traffic going through the town centre, the only route to the motel Sam and Dean had stayed at.
A siren was getting louder, and the older hunter had to pull over to allow the ambulance to pass. There must have been an accident or something.
"What happened?" a woman walking towards the commotion asked a friend walking away from it.
"Some kid got hit by a car. Something spooked him and he just ran out. Think his brother was being chased or something," the friend shrugged, "Kids."
Bobby cursed under his breath. It couldn't be Sam and Dean, could it? The hunter got out of his car and walked up the road, just in time to see a young boy lifted onto a stretcher. He was crying, he was sure he could just make out the cries as calls for "Dean."
"Dammit," Bobby shook his head, running ahead. He saw Dean, it was definitely Dean, run to follow Sam into the back of the ambulance, "Dean!"
The older boy didn't hear, and the ambulance pulled away before he could stop it. Bobby sighed, returning to his car and hoping desperately that Sam wasn't too badly hurt.
Sam's doctor found Dean pacing the waiting room for news on his brother.
"Your brother wasn't too badly injured from the accident," she told him as they walked to Sam's room, "He has a broken arm and rib, and a concussion, but otherwise he just has some cuts and bruises. It could have been a lot worse."
"Thank god," Dean muttered under his breath.
"But he's very sick," she stopped outside his room, "His airways are inflamed, he's very dehydrated. How did he become so sick?"
"We, uh, he's always been kinda sickly," Dean shrugged, he wasn't in the right mindset to be thinking up better excuses. The doctor gave him a look which he wasn't sure if she believed him or not, but regardless opened the door to Sam's room, where he was fast asleep. The six-year-old had his arm in a sling and a bandage around his head, as well as an iv line in his hand and tubes in his nose. Dean felt like he would cry again.
Sam didn't wake up, the doctor told Dean he needed to let his brother get some rest. His body was worn out and sleep would do him the world of good. After a few hours of sitting beside his brother, another woman entered the room.
"Dean? It's Dean, right?" she smiled at him as he nodded, "My name's Sophie, I'm a social worker."
"You're not taking my brother away," Dean said instantly, causing Sophie to flinch.
"Hey, no need to worry about that yet," she smiled, "I just want to talk to you. We're a bit concerned that you don't seem to have a parent present."
"My mom's dead. I told them that already," the eleven-year-old shrugged.
"I know, sweetie. I'm sorry. But your father…the paramedics heard you tell Sam you don't know where he is," Sophie frowned with concern.
"Then they shouldn't have been listening, their job was to make Sam better, not stick their nose in," Dean snapped, "Leave us alone, we're fine."
"Did your father leave you here?"
"Shut up!" Dean yelled, "You don't know anything about us!"
Sophie flinched, but pressed on. Dean turned away, staying completely silent and refusing to answer any more questions.
Sam began to stir a little while after Sophie left, whimpering softly before opening his eyes. He noticed the oxygen mask on his face and panicked, reaching out desperately to Dean.
"Sammy, Sammy it's okay. It's alright," Dean spoke quickly, gently pulling down the oxygen mask so he could talk, "You're in the hospital, alright? You ran out into the road, got hit by a car."
"My arm hurts," the younger boy whimpered, looking at his bandaged arm, "Is Dad here?"
"No, Sammy," Dean shook his head, afraid he would cry again. He knew how much Sam hated seeing him cry and did his best to avoid it, "I don't know."
Before Sam could talk, his doctor came into the room to check on him and was pleased to see him awake.
"You've been through the wars, young man," she smiled softly, "You've been very brave."
"I'm not brave," Sam shrugged, "Dean's braver than me."
"Nah, Sammy. You're much braver than me. If I got hurt like you have? I'd be crying like a little girl," he grinned, glad to see Sam laugh.
It wasn't long before Sophie returned, obviously notified that Sam was conscious and awake enough to answer questions. She wasn't alone this time. Her colleague was taller and looked much stricter. Dean scowled at them both. Sam was curled up on his side, hugging his teddy bear Dean had taken from his bag.
"Hello, Sam," Sophie smiled at the six-year-old warmly, "Can I talk with you? Dean, if you can go with Tom here, that'll be great."
Dean stood his ground as Sam looked at the two adults warily, "I'm not leaving him."
"It wasn't a request," Tom said sternly.
Sam stayed silent and reached to grab his brother's sleeve, but after several attempts to separate them, the older boy was forcibly removed from the room. Dean fought against the social worker violently, while Sam sat bewildered. His lip trembled and eyes filled with tears as Sophie sat down beside his bed.
"I know this must be very frightening for you, Sam," the young woman smiled sympathetically, "But we just want you to be safe."
Sam sniffled but didn't say anything, burying his nose in his stuffed bear, "Want Dean."
"Dean will be back soon," Sophie spoke quietly, "No one will be in trouble."
Sam coughed hard, gasping for breath as he reached desperately for his glass of water.
"Take your time, sweetheart," the social worker gave him the glass of water and gently rubbed his back.
"I want Daddy," the six-year-old let out a sob.
"Where is he, Sam?" Sophie frowned, perhaps finally getting somewhere.
Dean had ignored Tom as best he could, occasionally telling him to get lost and poke his nose elsewhere. He could only hope Sam was doing the same. Sure, he wouldn't be rude to anyone, but he might at least act up on his illness and not talk.
"He told me everything," Sophie said as she left Sam's room, "He's exhausted, I let him get some rest. But he told me enough."
Dean shook his head in disappointment, running a hand through his hair, "He's freaked out. You pushed him into it. He's been pumped full of meds, he doesn't know what he's talking about!"
"Then where is your father, Dean? Did he leave you in a motel on your own?" the social worker sighed, trying to keep her patience, "You're too young to be looking after your brother. You're just a child."
"It's none of your business!" Dean snapped, "I'm going back to my brother."
He was allowed back into Sam's room while the social workers conferred and made arrangements. The six-year-old had been crying, his eyes red-rimmed and trails of dried tears down his cheeks. He'd been pretending to sleep, most likely to make Sophie leave him alone.
"Why did you tell them, Sammy?" the eleven-year-old shook his head, failing to hold back his own tears, "Why would you do that?"
Sam said nothing, coughing quietly but becoming visibly upset. His chest was sounding bad again.
"Dad's gonna be in trouble now," Dean's voice cracked, "I don't know what to do, Sammy. I don't know what to do."
"Wh-what's gonna happen?" Sam's voice was tiny and fearful, "Dean?"
"I don't know," Dean began to cry, causing panic to flare in his little brother. Sam grabbed the older boy's hand, pulling it close and hugging his arm nervously.
"I won't let them split us up," Dean carefully pulled Sam into a hug, "I promise, Sammy, I won't leave you."
Sam curled up against his brother's side, despite orders to stay still so he didn't disturb his broken rib.
Both boys were asleep on Sam's bed when Bobby arrived at the hospital. He'd posed as their uncle, tried everything in his power to convince them to let him take them with him once Sam was well enough, with no luck. The boys' father, should he arrive, was to be questioned and possibly arrested for child neglect. There was no way in hell he was getting his sons out of this mess now the authorities had caught wind of it, and in honesty, Bobby wasn't surprised. He had been concerned something like this would happen, it was only a matter of time.
After much convincing, the older hunter was allowed in to see Sam and Dean, and was tasked with the job of telling them what was going to happen to them.
Dean ran at his uncle Bobby the moment he saw him, leaving Sam curled up asleep. Bobby hugged the eleven-year-old tight, sighing softly, sitting by Sam's bed.
"How's yer brother?" he looked to Sam with a sad expression.
"He's sick," Dean mumbled, "And not getting much better. They just keep giving him more pain meds."
"He'll pull through, he's a fighter," Bobby gently ruffled Sam's hair, but the boy didn't wake, "Listen, Dean…I spoke to the…"
"They're splitting us up, aren't they?" Dean cut in, eyes wide, "They can't, Sammy needs me. I have to look out for him."
"Dean, Dean," the older hunter raised a hand to silence him, "Yer not getting split up. They're not that stupid. But once Sam is all better, yer both headin' to the nearest kids home. They want to take ya now, but I told 'em there's no way in hell you'd leave yer brother behind."
"Why can't we stay with you?" Dean looked at him worriedly, "We want to stay with you!"
"I tried, kid. Believe me. They said there's procedures, protocol. They can't just let you go with anyone, "I'll try my best to get you boys with me, I just can't make any promises."
"What about Dad?"
Bobby couldn't meet the boy's eyes, "He's in trouble, Dean. Fer leavin' you two on yer own. Especially after what's happened to Sam."
"We're not going to see Dad again, are we?" Dean stared at the floor.
"I don't think its likely," Bobby said quietly, "I'm sorry, kiddo."
Visiting hours ended and the older hunter had to leave, just as Pastor Jim arrived at the hospital. Both men couldn't help but curse their lateness. All this could have been avoided had they arrived earlier, the boys could be safe. But neither of them knew if John were even alive. All they could do was wait and see if he showed up, then get back to the boys in the morning.
Thanks for reading! New chapter coming up soon - this and Devil's Hold are the fics I'm focusing on most right now.
Please leave a review, let me know what you think!
Apologies if there are any inaccuracies in procedures etc.
Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far!