Disclaimer: Supernatural, the Winchesters, and any other characters and/or places which may appear do not belong to me.

Whumptober 2020, Day #8

Prompt(s): "Don't say goodbye"

Author's Note: Okay so I've realized that I can't push myself to write 1k+ fics every day. I was doing great for the first few days but my brain is starting to get tired. So I'm gonna write what I want and not force it into a full fledged story. So some days you might gets fics that are 1k+, and other times you might get some drabbles that are only a few hundred. Hope ya'll still enjoy no matter what. And I appreciate all the review and to all the guest reviewers, I see you and love you all the same. Thanks so much.

Set sometime in season 12, maybe early season 13

Today's Whumpee: Mostly Dean but Sam a little too

"Sammy," Dean muttered. "'M sorry for… for…."

"No, Dean, don't you dare say you're sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for," Sam pleaded, trying to get the heavy wooden beam off both of them. They had been in an old warehouse tracking some rogue hellhounds. With Crowley gone, Hell was currently basically in a state of absolute chaos. At least, that was what Sam and Dean had to assume. They'd already killed two hellhounds earlier that week and had now been tracking a second pair. But the warehouse had been under construction, and the hellhounds had run into beams and equipment, showering Dean and Sam in wood and metal scraps and equipment. Most they avoided but a large wooden beam fell lopsided, and then rolled, pinning them against a wall.

Sam heaved again and again, trying so desperately hards to breathe and put what remaining strength he had into heaving the beam off himself and his brother.

"Sam," Dean said. "Listen t' me," he slurred. There was blood soaking his shirt and sleeve where his arm had been broken.

"No, Dean, we're gonna be fine, okay? We'll be fine, so don't you dare start saying goodbyes."

Dean smiled slightly and obeyed, closing his eyes.

"Dean, you gotta stay awake for me," Sam pleaded.

Sam grit his teeth. He took every bit of energy he could muster and threw it into getting the beak off of them. It took everything he had, but he was able to push it away. It was only a little bit, but it gave him and Dean a little bit of breathing room at least. Sam glanced around and it looked like he'd be able to clamber his way around the beam. And as long as he was very gentle — both with the beam and his brother — he'd be able to get Dean out too. As it was, he wouldn't leave without Dean, no matter what. He refused to leave his brother.

"Okay. Okay, okay, okay," Sam muttered. He gingerly rested his hands against the wall behind and maneuvered his way around and under the beam. When he heard the wood creak, he closed his eyes with a wince, but it remained stable.

He went around it and over to where Dean was bleeding.

"C'mon, brother. We gotta get outta here, come on," he said, reaching Dean. His brother was pale and sweaty, his arm was bent crookedly, and he seemed to be having trouble bleeding which told Sam broken ribs. As a matter of fact, he probably had some cracked ribs too, but he couldn't even start thinking about his own injuries when he saw Dean's. He wrapped an arm around Dean's and gently pulled his brother towards him. He tried to ignore the whimpers of pain that escaped Dean when his broken arm got jostled.

"We're gonna be out soon, and I'll get you to a hospital, okay?" Sam said, trying to calm his voice and not let it shake.

"Mmm," Dean groaned. His eyes were slits now, and as Sam pulled Dean from the debris, his brother started going limp.

"No, Dean, Dean, you gotta stay awake for me, okay? I know you've lost a lot of blood, but you gotta stay awake for me."

Sam felt a little bit of weight leave his arms, a tiny amount, but it meant Dean was a little more conscious. Conscious enough to keep his feet under him anyways.

When they were a few feet away from the beam, Sam let himself breathe a little more. Dean's good arm was wrapped around his shoulder and the broken one was hanging limply at his side.

They made their way to the door, and got to the Impala. Dean was losing consciousness fast and when Sam lowered Dean into the passenger seat, he was taken back in his memory to a few years ago, when he'd carried Dean's lifeless body to the car and taken him home. That image of his brother, lifelessly hanging in his arms or laying on his bed, that image had haunted his nights — and days — for years.

Sam drove as fast as he could, constantly glancing over to where his brother seemed to be growing paler and paler with every second. Getting to the hospital, begging for a doctor, and everything else, it all seemed to go in a blur. Sam was acting on instinct, his thoughts clouded with worry for Dean and only Dean. He'd even stopped noticing the pain in his own chest. Only when a nurse assured him that Dean would be sleeping for a while did he allow himself to be examined.

As soon as he was cleared to return to his brother's side, he was there. Apparently he'd had two cracked ribs, but the nurse wrapped them in gauze and said as long as he took it easy for a few days, he'd be okay.

Sam finally allowed himself to breathe deeper and think when he was back in Dean's room. His brother was asleep on the bed, his arm wrapped in a thick cast and a little bit of color back in his face, IVs transferring the needed blood back to his brother.

Another close call, Sam thought. He was tired of them. He knew that there would be many of them still awaiting them in future, but he was just so tired of almost losing his brother. He'd already lost Dean too many times to count — that one Tuesday still haunted him — and he hated the close calls that made him think he'd lose him again. Maybe for good that time.

But every time, Dean had pulled through. He'd come back somehow and Sam had no doubt that, while Dean would complain about the cast, at least he'd be complaining. And at the moment, Sam had no wish greater than to just hear his brother complain about something.

Don't you cry no more, a little voice told him at the back of his head.

There'll be peace when you are done.