Disclaimer: We do not own Supernatural. We are not doctors, so please excuse any medical errors.

Author's Note: This chapter was written by LadyWallace.

Not Right Now

Chapter Ten

Dean took a moment to breathe as he listened to Bobby's reply. "He broke his wrist, Dean. It's a bad break, but that's all, and the doctor says he'll recover fully with the surgery."

Dean's hand that wasn't holding the phone gripped the sheets tight, and he breathed heavily, still trying to get over the shock of hearing that Sam had been hurt. "Bobby come get me, I need to see him."

"I'm on my way, son."

Dean ended the call and then threw the phone across the room with a scream of pent up emotions. This is exactly what he had been afraid of. That Sam wouldn't have anyone to watch his back and he would get hurt because of it. Why had he let him go?

Dean wanted to do nothing but leap up and drive to the hospital to be with his little brother, but he couldn't and it only made him angrier. Instead he waited impatiently for Bobby to show up.

"What happened, Bobby?" was the first thing Dean said, practically grinding his teeth.

Bobby sighed. "Dean, let's get you to the hospital, and we'll talk about it later. I promise your brother will be alright."

"Bobby!" Dean demanded.

The older hunter looked at him for a long moment before he said, "Like I said, it wasn't shifters like we thought. It was ghouls. We weren't ready for the silver bullets not to work."

Horror gripped Dean's chest, which was obviously what Bobby had anticipated because he was already continuing. "It wasn't your fault, Dean, and don't you dare blame yourself."

"I went over that research," Dean shouted. "We both did. It seemed so obvious."

"We all make mistakes sometimes," Bobby tried to soothe but Dean wasn't having any of it.

"I can't afford to make mistakes that will cost my brother's life!" he shouted. "This is why I don't research. I'm a hunter, Bobby, not a scholar. Apparently I'm no good for anything anymore, and now I almost got you and Sam killed!"

"Calm down, son, you ain't gonna help your brother like this."

"Well, I can't help him any other way either!" Dean exploded.

"Dean," Bobby sighed. "Let's just go see your brother. He just went into surgery before I left."

Dean clamped his mouth shut. So many things he wanted to say but he didn't have the strength for them. He just wanted to see his brother. Bobby helped him into the wheelchair and soon they were off.

Dean slumped in the wheelchair in the waiting room while Bobby talked to the nurse at the reception desk. He went to sit next to Dean after thanking the young woman, and Dean turned to him eagerly.

"Can I see him?" he asked.

"He's still in surgery, but he'll be out soon," Bobby assured him quietly. He noticed Dean rubbing his hands nervously against his legs and knew he was probably aching to pace off his pent up energy. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder and started rubbing the knotted muscles there.

"Calm down, boy," he told him gently. "Your brother's gonna be fine."

Dean shook his head, unable to say anything. His chest felt so tight with anxiety and he was nearly going insane being trapped in his chair. Back in a hospital again. He just couldn't seem to get away from them now days. It seemed like a cruel plot to keep driving home his father's death and now his own condition.

It seemed like an eternity before the doctor came out for them and said that Sam was in the recovery room and as soon as they got him into his own room they could go see him. Dean was about to demand to see him that instant, but Bobby kept a firm hand on his shoulder as he thanked the doctor. It didn't take long for them to get Sam settled and Bobby hurried Dean as fast as he could to his brother's room.

Dean's guts twisted as he saw his brother lying there in the hospital bed so pale and hooked up to the machines. His arm was in a cast and secured in a sling against his chest. He wasn't awake yet, and he looked so young and vulnerable to Dean that he almost couldn't stand it.

"Sammy," he whispered as Bobby parked his chair right beside the bed. Dean reached out and touched Sam's good hand carefully as if afraid it wouldn't be warm. But it was.

"I'm so sorry," he said quietly.

Bobby sighed. "Dean, son, you can't blame yourself for this. Sam doesn't."

"But I failed him Bobby," Dean said, his voice breaking slightly. He didn't even bother reining in his emotions. He was done trying, too tired to care. "It's my job to look after him, and I can't do that anymore. I failed him and I failed Dad, and I…I failed everyone, Bobby. I'm no good for anything anymore."

"Balls, Dean," Bobby said, shaking his head as he gripped the back of Dean's neck and pulled his head against his shoulder. He knew that if Dean were in any other state of mind, he would protest, but his boys were both hurting now, and Bobby wasn't going to let them go through it alone.

"You act like this is all your fault, Dean, but it was just bad luck. It wasn't anything you did, you just drew the short straw this time, and you can't let it get the better of you. You're a Winchester, son. You are the most stubborn breed of people I have ever seen, and you are the worst of them all. But you've got to apply it right, you've got to use that stubborn streak to fight this, kick it in the ass like you always do. That's what your daddy would want you to do, and that's what Sam wants too. Do you know how much it hurts him to hear you talk about giving up all the time? He needs you, Dean, and if you really don't want to let him down, then it's not about being there to watch his back hunting, it's about trying the best you can to get back on your feet. That's all Sam wants from you. He just wants his brother. He doesn't care if you're in a wheelchair or not, he just needs you there and needs you to keep fighting. You're all he has left and he can't lose you, physically or otherwise."

Dean took a shaky breath, Bobby's words striking home more than he cared to admit. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Bobby told him, rubbing his back. "It's not your fault."

"I'll—I'll try harder."

Bobby smiled and pretended not to notice as Dean swiped a stray tear away as he pulled away from the older hunter and fought to contain his emotions again.

Bobby squeezed his shoulder one more time before he stood up. "I think I'm gonna go get some coffee, you want some?"

Dean nodded as he turned his focus back to Sam, reaching out to brush the shaggy hair away from his pale forehead. It pained him to see the dark circles under his eyes and just the wear worry had worn into his face. They hadn't had much to smile about since Dad's death, but it had still been way too long since Dean had seen those dimples on Sam's cheeks flash as he smiled. He used to tease him about that when he was younger but Dean had always loved to see them because he knew they meant Sam was genuinely happy, that he wasn't just pretending for Dean's sake. He swallowed hard. If it would make Sam smile again, he would do anything, no matter how hard it was, to get back on his feet. He couldn't stand to think he was causing his little brother pain with his own stubborn stupidity. They had too much else to hurt them, they didn't need to cause pain to each other as well.

Sam suddenly shifted, a soft moan escaping his lips. Dean stilled his hand, leaving it on the top of Sam's head and mustered a small smile as his brother opened his eyes.

"Sammy, hey," he said quietly.

Sam blinked a bit to clear his vision, confused, but when he focused on his brother, he seemed to relax instantly. "D'n," he tried.

"How you feeling?" Dean asked him.

Sam winced. "Fuzzy. Tired. You good?"

Dean swallowed hard. "I'm alright. Sammy, I'm sorry I messed up with the researching; if I had looked at things a little harder maybe you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

Sam was shaking his head and reached out to grab the front of Dean's shirt almost to make sure he was actually there. "Not your fault. Just a stupid accident."

Dean took a deep breath. "Sam, I want to be there for you. I want to watch your back. I'm—I'm going to try harder to get better. I realize that I can't just sit here and feel sorry for myself forever and if you're going to get hurt because of it, then I know I can't. I've gotta look after you, and I sure as hell ain't gonna do it hopping around on crutches. So I'll do whatever it takes. I promise."

Sam's eyes brightened slightly and a small tired smile flicked across his lips. "You will? You'll do it for me?"

"Yeah, Samantha," Dean huffed a short laugh, rubbing his hand through Sam's hair fondly. "I wouldn't do it for anyone else. I hope you're happy."

In answer Sam just smiled wider and there was a dimple showing through which made Dean's heart feel lighter than it had in weeks. Months even. "Thank you, Dean," Sam told him, leaning into Dean's hand.

"Don't ruin it, bitch," Dean told him, trying to hide the smile that was attempting to make its way to his lips.

Sam grinned harder. "Jerk."

Dean pulled his head closer to the side of the bed as he leaned over and rested his forehead against Sam's, so glad to have his little brother there with him and that his injuries hadn't been worse.

This was the scene Bobby came back to, and it made him smile. He felt that things were looking up for the brothers, and hoped that Dean would keep his word and work toward getting back onto his feet as soon as possible.

Sam was allowed to leave the next day after the doctor watched him overnight just to make sure everything was okay. He was still kind of woozy from the pain medicine but he was glad to be leaving the hospital, if only so that Dean wouldn't have to stay there anymore. He had been really afraid that Dean would beat himself up about Sam's injury, and while he had, and he still was, there was a new, almost a calm, to Dean that Sam was shocked to see. He seemed almost resigned, and Sam hoped it would last long enough for him to work on getting better. Their earlier discussion had filled him with new hope and he felt he would be able to help his brother more too if Dean was willing to be helped. Even if he could really only be moral support with his broken wrist.

He was really glad he had called in Bobby because he wasn't able to do any of the heavy lifting when Dean needed help anymore, and even though he probably could have managed some of it, Dean wouldn't have it, refusing to be the cause of Sam getting himself hurt worse. Sam refrained from complaining, knowing that it wouldn't help Dean for him to get hurt again, so he did what he could and let Bobby handle the rest.

Dean was still grumpy about his physical therapy, but he would at least do it, and kept the cursing at the nurses to a minimum. The feeling in his legs was slowly coming back more and more, and it was getting easier for him to use the crutches.

Sam was helping him practice one afternoon as Dean staggered around, cursing under his breath as he fought to balance the crutches and steady his feet at the same time.

"You're doing good," Sam assured him as Dean cast him a look before he got tripped up on his feet again and tumbled before Sam could stop him. Dean tossed the crutches to the floor as Sam crouched to settle his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"I can't do this," Dean told him.

"Yes, you can," Sam assured him with a smile. "It's okay to get frustrated; it's hard to get used to, but you're doing much better. You looked like a drunk new born giraffe when you first started."

"Shut up," Dean said, but some of the heat had left him. He put his arm around Sam's shoulders and the younger Winchester hoisted him up with his good arm and stood with him for a second.

"Here," Sam told him. "Let me be your crutch for a minute."

"What, you want me to stand on your toes and do a little father-daughter dance?" Dean snarked at him.

Sam huffed a laugh. "No you jerk, just lean on me, and see if you can walk a little."

"I can barely move my legs, Sam," Dean protested, clinging tighter to his brother as Sam started dragging him. "It's like dead weight down there. Kinda feels like trying to stand on really heavy noodles."

"Just try," Sam insisted, pulling Dean upright against his side again. "Let's try to get to the couch."

Dean muttered something under his breath about 'stupid' and 'girly', but he tried to ground his feet and move them as Sam started forward slowly.

"Just one step at a time," Sam told him, pulling him forward.

Dean slid his right foot forward, falling against Sam as his knee started to buckle under him, but he shifted his left and was a little steadier. Sam pulled him forward again and Dean did the same, shuffling painfully slow across the few yards to the couch.

"You're doing good," Sam encouraged.

Dean tried to overstep, and almost fell, but Sam pulled him straight, his arm tightening around him. Dean growled but Sam offered more encouragement and steadied him. Dean concentrated really hard to take the last few steps and finally Sam lowered him to the couch, grinning as he took a seat on the coffee table in front of him.

"There, see? You're getting there."

"You practically dragged me here," Dean protested, but had to admit that he'd done better than he had expected.

"But you'll get better. It's actually probably time we schedule another hospital visit for some x-rays to see how you're healing."

"And what if nothing has changed?" Dean voiced his secret fears, rubbing his hand against his leg absentmindedly. He knew that if nothing really had changed he would feel like he was back at square one. He almost would rather keep on as he was not knowing any better, than to get bad news that would only discourage him further. He was trying so hard for Sam as he had promised, but it was really hard, and he couldn't deny that some days he just really wanted to quit. It was only moments like this, seeing Sam smile, proud, and happy for him, that made him go on.

"Whatever happens, we will get through it, Dean. I'll help you get through it," Sam insisted.

"We really need to stop having these chick flick moments," Dean grumbled, but did actually feel better, though he would never admit it to his brother.

Thankfully, Bobby came back from picking up food just then and broke the uncomfortably emotional moment.

"Ready to eat, boys?" he called to them.

Sam smiled at Dean and offered his good hand to him to help him into his wheelchair. "Everything will turn out well, Dean. You'll see."

Dean didn't really know if he believed that, but if it made Sam happy, he would agree for the moment.

To be continued…