Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! The original story idea belongs to Lia Walker.

Summary: Sam gets hurt from an unexpected attack and John turns to the bottle, then takes his anger out on Dean who is already blaming himself. Teen!chester story. Sam is 13 and Dean is 17. Adult Content. Sam!hurt, Dean!hurt/comfort, John!drunk/abusive.

Brian parked in the back of the hospital near the ambulance bay. Since they didn't call ahead, he figured they would be able to get inside without too many questions or too much interference. He and John eased Dean out of the backseat and more or less kept him upright and walking. Dean spoke up for the first time since they left the motel room as they made their way down the main hallway towards the Radiology Department.

"I want to see Sammy."

John grumbled in frustration. He had known this was going to happen. "Dean, we're gettin' you checked out first. Then you can see your brother."

"But dad, I…"

"Later, Dean."

The boy didn't have much choice seeing as the two men were keeping him off the floor. He wouldn't get very far on his own.

Dean felt mortified. It seemed like every nurse and patient that they passed stared directly at him, wondering what was wrong with him.

Before they had left the motel, John had wrapped one of his long sleeved, button-up shirts around Dean's shoulders to keep him warm and give him a little more dignity. But with the way people were staring, he felt as though he might as well be naked and parading his injuries around. Do I really look that bad?

He was pretty sure one of the patients had been in a knife fight, and even though he was bleeding all over the floor, he looked concerned when Dean shuffled past. The boy actually felt relieved when he made it into the privacy of the x-ray room.

"John, can you hold him for a sec? I need to talk to the Radiographer. He's a buddy of mine, so we shouldn't run into much trouble."

John tightened his grip around Dean to take more of his weight as Brian moved away to talk to the only other man in the room. They were too far away to be overheard, but judging by the look on the Radiographer's face, he wasn't too happy with Brian's proposal. Never-the-less, he nodded in concession and he and Brian headed for the Winchesters.

"What seems to be the trouble?" he asked, smiling warmly at Dean as though trying to comfort the terrified boy.

"He's havin' trouble breathin'. Think he might have some busted ribs," John grunted out, tense enough to whisk Dean out of the room in seconds if necessary.

"Well let's find out, shall we?" He held out a hand, beckoning for Dean to follow him. Dean looked to his dad who nodded gravely. What choice did they have at this point? Dean moved forward, looking like he was headed to the gallows. Dean flinched as the man put his hand on his good shoulder but tried to play it off as though he were just stretching.

"I'm Chris, by the way," the Radiographer said.

"Dean."

"I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, Dean, but such is the way of my profession. Brian told me not to ask about your black eye, but I at least have to say that if you are in some sort of trouble, you should probably speak to one of us or the authorities."

Dean remained silent, so Chris sighed and continued as though he hadn't said anything.

"Now, if you could just remove your shirt and lay down on this table… Do you have any metal such as piercings or plates that can't be removed?"

Dean shook his head, wondering how on earth he was going to lie still on that table with his back aching as it was. When Dean didn't start doing as he was asked, Chris produced a hospital gown thinking he was just shy.

"You can put this on if it'll make you feel more comfortable. Brian and your father will accompany me in the other room while you change and the x-rays are taken. If you need any help with the gown, just ask."

Dean slowly reached out and took the gown. "Thanks. Can my dad help me?"

"If you'd prefer. I'll give you guys a few minutes."

Chris walked over to Brian and John, told John that his son requested his help, then took Brian into the other room. John quirked an eyebrow as he neared his son.

"You alright, sport?"

Dean didn't know why he asked for his father and now he felt embarrassed that he had. "Yeah, I'm good. Just didn't want him to see my back. You know, just in case."

"God, Dean… I'm so sorry I put you through all this."

"It's okay, dad. I screwed up and Sammy could have died because of it. I swear I won't disobey an order from you again."

John had nothing left to say on the subject. "Come on, let's get you changed so we can get these x-rays over with."

He helped Dean ease the flannel shirt off his shoulders, then tied the strings of the gown tight enough to keep it from slipping off of him, but loose enough to not cause him more pain. He took Dean's elbow and guided him to a sitting position on the exam table. Dean tensed the second he sat down.

"It'll be quick, Dean. Then we'll go see your brother."

Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded. John patted his knee.

"I'll go tell the doc you're ready." With that, he stalked out of the room, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts and fears.

He jumped when the door swung open again, announcing the return of Chris. "Alrighty then. I'm gonna need you to lay down to the right, flat on your back. Which ribs are causing you pain?"

"Lower back."

"Okay. I'm going to help you then. Can you swing your hips around and get your legs onto the table?"

Dean used his good arm to slide himself further onto the table and slowly turned, bring his legs up and trying not to pass out or throw up as the motion caused the muscles in his back and abdomen to tense. Chris was there seconds later, grabbing his knees to reduce the strain and laying them down gently on the table.

"Thanks. Oh, shit… Brian wrapped my ribs earlier to make it easier to breathe. Is that going to affect the image?"

"If it's holding the two broken pieces together, then it could make it harder to find the break. Why don't we take the bandage off for now and put it right back on when we're done?"

"Fine. I'll do it."

"The less moving you do, the better. Just stay sitting up and I'll handle the rest." He slid his hands underneath the gown and ran his fingers gently over the bandage, looking for the end. Once he found it, he un-tucked it and was able to unravel it without removing the gown for which Dean was very grateful. However, he wasn't overly thrilled with the renewed pain in his back. "There we go. Now, I'm going to help ease you down so you're laying flat."

Chris put his hands just under Dean's arms from behind him, using his thumbs against Dean's shoulder blades for support.

"On three… One, two, three." Dean forced himself to relax as Chris guided him down onto the table, doing his best to lighten the impact as much as possible. The second Dean was flat on his back, he was already having trouble breathing again. "Do you need to sit back up for a minute, Dean?" Chris asked, frowning in concern.

"No, I'm good. Just take the x-rays so I can get up again."

"Okay. I can hear you from the other room, so if you get too uncomfortable or it gets harder to breathe, you call me."

"Kay."

Chris laid a heavy lead apron over Dean's lower half to protect it from the radiation. Dean, who was already having trouble breathing, felt confined and groaned at the added weight. In his weakened state, it felt as heavy as Sammy did.

Chris hurried to the back room to work the machine. He pressed the comm. button to speak to the boy. "Dean, I need you to take the deepest breath you can and hold it for a few seconds."

Dean did as he was told and regretted it instantly. It felt like his lungs were in a vice and the deeper he inhaled, the tighter the vice got. He held his breath for as long as he could (which wasn't very long at all) and heard the machine whirring above him. Chris had him do it two more times to ensure they get at least one decent picture, and on the last exhale, Dean let out a small whimper he just couldn't hold in anymore. He wanted off the table. Now.

Chris walked back into the room and once Dean saw him, he immediately tried to scoot himself off the table, assuming it meant he was done.

"Hang on there, son. We need to get two side shots as well. You should be able to breath easier on your side. Do you have a preference?"

"Left side," Dean grunted without hesitation.

Chris helped reposition him, then disappeared back into the other room. Dean heard the whirring again as Chris moved the machine into place above him. I just want to see Sam. Please, just let me see Sam…

Finally, after three more photos were taken, the three men entered to help Dean sit back up. Once he was vertical again, it was a bit easier to breathe. Chris excused himself from the room with the films so he could get them exposed. Brian carefully rewrapped Dean's ribs and John helped him get dressed again. Brian had also found an empty wheelchair in the hallway and once Dean was ready to go, he and John carefully lowered the boy onto it much to Dean's dismay.

"I can walk, guys."

"Sorry, kid, but my arms are still tired from when you tried to walk yourself in here. Just sit there and enjoy the ride. We're off to go see Sam."

'Bout damn time.

The group made their way through the complex corridors until they reached Sam's door. Sam's doctor caught sight of the small family as he was making his rounds. He headed for them, hating this part of his job. John looked up as he approached.

"Doc? How's my boy? Did he wake up yet?"

"I'm very sorry, but other than a few muscle twitches, Sam has been practically comatose since he was brought in here. The good news is his condition hasn't worsened, and he is still stable."

"So what's keepin' him under?" Dean demanded.

"Honestly? We just don't know. In my professional opinion, Sam will wake up when he's ready to face whatever happened in that park. We will continue to monitor him closely. It's the best we can do for now."

Dean didn't stick around to hear any more. He took hold of the wheels on the chair himself and rolled into his little brother's room. Sam was waking up, damn it. There was no other option in Dean's eyes. He carefully made his way to Sam's beside.

"Dude, you've gotta stop with this sleepin' beauty shit. Just face it. I'm always gonna be the prettier one." Dean stared at his brother, willing him to just open his eyes. He placed his hand over Sam's, being very careful not to jostle the IV port. "Come on, kiddo. Big brother isn't a fan of this game anymore."

There was a slight movement underneath Dean's hand. He gaped. Did Sam just move?

"Sammy?"

Sam didn't respond and Dean's stomach clenched. It must have just been one of those muscle twitches the doc had been referring too. He reached forward and brushed Sam's long bangs away from his face again. It was a common gesture he felt comfort in. As much as he teased his brother about getting his hair cut, it gave Sam that look of innocence and Dean wouldn't have it any other way.

"Sam, please wake up. You're freaking Dad out. Okay, maybe me too."

When there was no reaction once again, Dean slumped back in his wheelchair, feeling defeated.

Another twitch came from Sam's hand and a small wrinkle creased his forehead. Dean straightened back up again, afraid to get his hopes up for nothing but desperate enough to do just that.

"Sammy? Open your eyes, bro."

Sam's eyelids flickered and the boy groaned quietly. Dean's heart leapt.

"That's it… Follow my voice, dude. I'm right here. You need to wake up now." He reached out and took Sam's hand again, hoping it would help guide his brother back to consciousness. Sam finally began to stir. His head tossed on the pillow a few times, then he turned to face his brother and cracked his hazel eyes open. "Sammy?"

Sam looked confused at first, but then there was recognition in his eyes.

"Zachary…?"

Dean's heart plummeted.

"Dad!"

TBC

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