Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
Chapter 7
Dean pushed his shopping cart through the aisles of the large toy store and stifled a groan at the mob of shoppers around him; he really despised shopping. Bobby had agreed to watch Sammy for the afternoon so that he could get some Christmas shopping done. His little brother had cried when Dean left, making it hard to follow through. Sammy had only calmed down when Bobby promised to take him out for lunch at his favorite fast food place.
A grin quirked Dean's lips. Just a few short months ago he would never have believed that this is what his life would have become. He hadn't been on a hunt since he'd taken custody of Sammy. Instead, he was Christmas shopping in a large toy store just two weeks before Christmas.
He maneuvered around other customers until he reached the back of the store where the bikes were located. At first all he saw were beach cruisers and bikes suitable for much older children. His stomach plummeted in disappointment. He had hoped to give Sammy exactly what he wanted for Christmas, especially since it was the kid's first year without both of his parents.
He kept walking and decided he'd turn the cart around and check one more time. That was when he saw them. There were four small bikes on the floor at the very end of the aisle. His eyes landed on a small Spiderman bike with training wheels. It would be perfect for Sammy. Reaching out to check the price tag, he winced. It was a bit more than he had hoped to spend.
"That's the last one of those," a voice beside him pointed out.
Dean glanced up to see a store clerk placing a sale sign on some of the larger bikes.
"They've been good sellers this year. If you want it, you'd better take it now."
Dean didn't hesitate. "I do want it; thank you." He lifted the small bike and placed it in the cart after he folded up the child seat. Elation shot through him. Sammy was going to love this bike.
"Merry Christmas, sir. I hope your son likes the bike." The clerk gave Dean a friendly nod.
"Actually, it's for my kid brother, and I know he's going to love it." Dean smiled his thanks and, after choosing a small red helmet to match the bike, he moved on to the book aisle.
As much as he had dreaded Christmas shopping, he found that he was actually enjoying himself despite the crowd. The most amazing part was imagining the look on Sammy's face on Christmas morning when he received the gifts. Thinking of the books Sammy already had at home, Dean chose four more that he thought his little brother would like. He also chose some coloring books and decided he'd have to find a stocking for his brother.
Books and a bike were all Sammy had asked Santa for, but Dean wanted to get a few things to wrap and place under the tree. He wandered aimlessly up and down the aisles before he decided on some puzzles, a matching game, and a toy car wash. He thought Sammy would like to use that on his little Impala. On his way to the front of the store, he found a stocking, some candy, and some other small items to stuff inside. Quite pleased with himself, Dean entered the checkout line.
He wasn't so pleased a few minutes later when the clerk announced the astronomically high price of his bill, but Dean bit back a remark and paid for the goods. After all, this was for Sammy.
Dean pushed his buggy to the car and tucked everything safely inside. He managed to fit the tiny bike into the deep trunk of the Impala. Excitement fluttered in his stomach as he once again imagined his little brother's face on Christmas morning.
His cell phone rang and he tugged it out of his pocket. He didn't recognize the number on the screen, but that didn't mean anything. "Hello."
"Is this Dean Winchester?" a female voice asked.
"Yes, who's calling?" He trapped the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he unlocked the door and shoved a bag into the backseat of the car.
"My name is Whitney. I'm calling from the county emergency services. I have a Robert Singer and a Samuel Winchester here at County General Hospital."
The air left Dean's lungs in a whoosh and he leaned one hand against the roof of the car weakly. "What happened? Is Sammy all right?"
"I don't have details, Mr. Winchester, only that they were brought to the emergency room after a car accident."
Dean swallowed hard against the bile that threatened to rise in the back of his throat. Not Sammy, too. He couldn't lose Sammy. "I'll be right there," he choked out.
Dean didn't remember hanging up the phone or climbing into the Impala. In fact, he didn't remember driving to the hospital. All he could think about was his little brother's bloody, lifeless body trapped in Bobby Singer's truck. "Sammy," he whispered brokenly as he climbed out of the car after parking in the hospital's parking lot.
Dean jogged to the emergency room entrance and made his way immediately to the reception desk. "I'm looking for Samuel Winchester and Robert Singer. They were brought here after a car accident," he panted.
The young woman behind the desk checked her computer screen calmly, not seeming to hurry at all. Dean found himself wanting to reach over the desk and find the information on his brother himself. How could she be so calm when his little brother could be dying somewhere on a gurney in this hospital?
"Here they are, sir. Looks like they are being treated right now. Um, curtain three." The woman pointed to the closed wooden doors that dominated the wall at the back of the room. "You will go through those doors, make a right, and it will be the third curtained area on the right."
Dean nodded his thanks and hurried forward. The receptionist must have pushed a button because the doors swung open in front of him. As soon as they did, the sound of Sammy's terrified screams reached his ears.
Dean had never felt so frightened or completely helpless. He surged forward and rounded the corner. He didn't even need to count the curtains to find his brother. The screams led him straight to Sammy.
Bobby sat on a bed covered in blood and looking dazed from a gash on his forehead. Sammy was being held in a nurse's arms. His face was buried in her shoulder and his entire body shook with sobs.
"Sammy," Dean breathed.
Somehow, the little boy heard him through his screams and raised his head from the nurse's shoulder. Wordlessly, the boy reached for his big brother and Dean scooped the child into his arms, running a hand over the messy brown hair before his eyes traced his brother's small frame searching for injuries.
"He's fine, sir," the nurse supplied the answer to Dean's unasked questions. "He will probably be sore tomorrow, but he is not injured."
"Thank you, thank you so much," Dean murmured, pressing his forehead against his little brother's.
Sammy gulped in a breath of air and his little arms wrapped around Dean's neck as the screams immediately lessened to shoulder-shaking sobs.
The older Winchester placed a hand on the back of Sammy's head and pressed the boy's face against his shoulder. Sammy cried there quietly as Dean rubbed his back in soothing circles.
"How are you doing, Bobby?" Dean asked as he was finally able to turn his attention to his friend.
"I'll live," Bobby admitted. "Slight concussion, but a few stitches and some rest will have me as good as new."
Dean nodded and shifted his brother in his arms. "What happened?" he asked as he held Sammy protectively against him.
Bobby sighed. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I was at a stoplight. The lady behind me wasn't paying attention and plowed right into the back of me."
"It wasn't your fault," Dean soothed. "Now, where's this lady who wasn't paying attention? Is she here?" He was ready to tear into her. Sammy was shaking like a leaf in his arms, terrified beyond measure. This lady needed to know what she'd done to his little brother.
"Nah, she wasn't hurt," Bobby sighed. "Poor Sammy was scared to death."
Dean nodded and turned his attention back to the still snuffling child in his arms. "Sammy," he murmured. "Hey, kiddo, look at me." He smoothed the boy's brown hair back from his sweaty, red face. Sammy blinked his tears from his eyes and stared morosely at his big brother.
Dean smiled. "You're okay, dude. The nurse says you're going to be just fine and so is Uncle Bobby after a few stitches. No harm done."
Sammy gave a shuttering sigh. "I thought me and Uncle Bobby were gonna die like Momma." He wiped his nose on his sleeve and Dean didn't have the heart to chide him for it. "I didn't wanna leave you all alone, Dean. I'd miss you too much."
Dean felt his eyes sting with tears and he blinked them back, unsure of what had happened to the hardened hunter he had been a few months ago. "You're not going anywhere, Sammy. No one is dying today."
Sammy pressed his face against Dean's neck with a wet sniffle just as the doctor pushed back the curtain. The middle-aged man introduced himself as Dr. Ogden.
"Mr. Winchester, your brother was most likely kept from injury by being properly buckled into his booster seat."
Dean nodded mechanically. "But you're sure he's all right?"
"Oh, he's just fine," the kindly doctor assured the worried big brother. "Give him some children's pain reliever tonight before bed and some more in the morning if he complains."
"I will, Dr. Ogden," Dean promised as he cast a glance toward Bobby.
"Now, Mr. Singer," the doctor continued as he focused on his other patient, "let's get you stitched up."
"I think Sammy and I are gonna take a little walk while you do that," Dean informed the two men.
"Good idea," Dr. Ogden agreed. "If you ask at the desk, someone may be able to find your little brother a popsicle." He smiled kindly at Sammy.
"Thank you," Dean told him as he turned away before the doctor started stitching.
A visit to the desk in the ER resulted in a grape popsicle for Sammy. The nurse on duty showed Dean to some chairs where he sat with his kid brother in his lap. Sammy sucked on the popsicle quietly, and soon he had purple sticky dribble down his chin and the front of his clothes. Dean didn't mind; he carried him into the bathroom and cleaned him up once he had finished the sticky treat.
Settling Sammy back against his shoulder, Dean returned to curtain three to check on Bobby. The older hunter was relaxing back against some pillows with a neat row of stitches now gracing his forehead. "How are you doing, Bobby?"
"I'm fine. I've got a hard head. How's Sammy?" Bobby eyed the small boy in Dean's arms with concern.
"He had a popsicle and then dropped right off to sleep," Dean told his friend as he ran a loving hand down his brother's back.
"This is going to stir up some bad memories for him, Dean," Bobby sighed.
"I know," Dean admitted. "I'm gonna keep a close eye on him."
Sammy muttered in his sleep and then whimpered.
"Sh," Dean soothed. "I'm right here, Sammy." The boy settled immediately. "He's going to be all right, Bobby," Dean stated fiercely.
"With you to watch out for him, I don't doubt that," Bobby admitted, wincing as his head pounded.
It was a subdued little group that shuffled into Bobby's home a few hours later. Bobby went straight to his room and Dean immediately ran a warm bath for Sammy before helping him into his favorite Spiderman pajamas.
"Dean, can I lay on the couch so I can look at my tree?" Sam whimpered quietly as Dean prepared a cup of Children's Tylenol for him. The boy took it without protest, proving just how tired and strung out he really was.
"Why don't we both lay on the couch a while, kiddo?" Dean offered. "Just let me change into something more comfortable."
Sammy nodded and scampered into his brother's room where he climbed up onto the bed and sat cross-legged.
Dean changed into an old t-shirt and sleep pants before scooping his little brother into his arms. "All right, buddy. Let's go enjoy your tree."
Sammy allowed Dean to carry him downstairs where the brothers stretched out on the couch so they could view the Christmas tree with its brightly colored lights. Sammy sighed with relief from his place against Dean's chest.
"I love you, Dean," he mumbled sleepily against his big brother's t-shirt.
"I love you, too, Sammy," the older Winchester admitted, holding his brother close as his eyes dipped closed.
The nights following the accident were rough on Sammy and the family. He woke up several times a night from horrible nightmares. Dean started lying down in bed with him to get him to go to sleep. Finally, he started taking Sammy to bed with him so that they could both get some sleep.
Bobby broached the subject with Dean one morning over coffee. It had been a particularly bad night with Sammy waking up three times from horrible nightmares. "Dean, we can't keep going on like this with Sammy."
The older Winchester ran a hand over his face tiredly. "I don't know what else to do for him, Bobby."
"Well, maybe it's time to talk to someone. I'm sure he's due for a check-up anyways. A good pediatrician will be able to give you some pointers on how to deal with this." Bobby stood and moved to refill his coffee cup.
Dean sighed. "Maybe you're right; I don't know what to do for him anymore. I'm letting him down."
"Now, don't talk like that," Bobby scolded as he pressed a firm hand on Dean's shoulder. "You've been there for him every step of the way since you got him, Dean. You've done everything that you possibly could. All I'm saying is that maybe it's time we get more advice. We're both out of our element here. Sammy's been through a lot."
Dean leaned back in his chair. "The doctor is going to think he's crazy when Sammy starts talking about his dreams."
Bobby sank back down into his chair. "Balls! I hadn't thought of that," he sighed.
"I suppose it still wouldn't hurt to talk to a pediatrician," Dean admitted.
Their conversation ended as Sammy padded into the room in his sock-clad feet and leaned his elbows on Dean's thigh. "Dean, when's Santa comin'?" The little boy gazed beseechingly up at his big brother.
"Tonight, buddy. It's Christmas Eve." Dean gave the four-year-old a tired smile.
Sammy thought that piece of information over for a moment. "Do we have cookies to leave for Santa?"
Dean cast an anxious glance at Bobby and relaxed when the older hunter smiled. "I bought some at the store," he assured Sammy. "They are in star and tree shapes, just the kind Santa likes."
Sammy grinned and then turned his attention back to his brother. "Can I write Santa a note to go with the cookies?"
Dean frowned. "You don't know how to write, kiddo."
"I can write my name!" Sammy protested. "You can help me with the rest."
Dean found a smile curving his lips. "All right. Go get your paper and markers and bring them to the table." He watched fondly as Sammy scurried away.
Bobby shook his head. "It's like you were born to raise that kid, Dean."
Dean's eyes widened a bit at Bobby's words, but Sammy returned before he could respond. He clambered up into the chair next to Dean and placed his pad of paper and markers on the table. "I'm ready!"
Dean carefully removed a sheet of paper from the pad. "What would you like to say to Santa?"
Sammy's chubby fingers picked up a red marker. "First, I want to write his name."
"Then write a big S like in your name," Dean explained.
Sammy looked up at him and grinned. "Santa and Sammy both start with S."
Bobby walked by and ruffled Sammy's hair. "You're a smart cookie, kid."
Sammy giggled. "What's next, Dean?"
The Winchester brothers stayed busy for the next half an hour. Sammy wrote a simple note to Santa and then drew a picture of what he declared to be a reindeer. Dean had to bite his tongue to hold back a chuckle.
When they were finished, Dean picked up the note and read it out loud to his little brother.
Santa,
I love you. I hope you like the cookies.
Love,
Sammy
"This is great, kiddo," Dean praised.
Sammy beamed at him. "Can we put the cookies on a plate now?"
"Not until bedtime," Dean explained. "You don't want them to go stale for Santa."
Sammy scrunched up his little nose. "We can't give Santa bad cookies." He crawled up into Dean's lap and leaned into his brother's chest. "Dean?"
"Yeah, dude?" Dean asked as he brushed a kiss to the crown of Sammy's dark hair.
"What did you ask Santa for?"
"Santa doesn't bring presents to grown-ups. We have to give each other gifts. Besides, I already got the best present ever."
Sammy looked up at him in confusion, not sure when Dean had received a present. "What present did you get?" he asked with a frown.
"You," Dean grinned as he began to tickle Sammy's tummy mercilessly.
The four-year-old giggled and squirmed in Dean's embrace. He finally slid breathless from his brother's lap. "I'm not a present, Dean," he panted.
"Sure you are," Dean smiled, reaching out to brush Sammy's bangs back from his face. "The very best one I've ever received. Now, go get your shoes on. We need to go get some gas in the Impala."
Sammy ran to obey and Dean's eyes followed the little boy. As long as he had Sammy, he didn't need anything else. The child really was the best gift he'd ever received.
To Be Continued…
