A/N: This is one of the more recent lengthier stories I've written at least over the last few months. Please know that I know nothing about bulls or cattle for that matter. My only encounters with cattle of any kind are remarking about Oreo cows when I was in grammar school.

Reviews are appreciated and I plan to post the next chapter next Wednesday as I have to work an evening shift Thursday. All updates for this story will take place weekly. All mistakes are my own as I don't utilize beta readers. I do not own the Thunderbirds.

This story is non-canon.

The first things he noticed upon waking was how fuzzy his vision was. He couldn't see anything clearly, that and rolling onto his back was a mistake. Groaning, Alan tried to lay still. Everything hurt. He didn't know he could hurt so much. His first memories of pain that was all encompassing was probably waking up in the intensive care unit when he was eight after he and Scott had gotten hurt in a rollover accident. His brother had been trying to avoid a dog that had run into the road and Scott over corrected, sending the old Ford into a tailspin prior to rolling thrice and coming to a stop on the lid.

The second thing Alan was made aware of was Bane, he wouldn't stop barking. Come to think of it, he sounded like he'd been barking a long time. His bark sounded ragged like he had never stopped. The German shepherd was his grandmother's neighbor's dog and he always seemed to gravitate to Alan's side any time the tween was outside. Alan didn't much like dogs, having been attacked as a small child by one that got into the yard. But Bane was the exception. The German shepherd stuck close to Alan all the time, even having a food and water bowl in his grandmother's kitchen for those occasions that Bane chose not to return to the neighbor's house.

The third thing Alan was made aware of was the sound of an angered bull. It was then that Alan was reminded that his grandmother's favorite horse Juniper had bucked him off when she'd been charged by the bull that temporarily resided on the property. Where was Juniper?

Alan's bottom lip trembled as he tried to roll from his stomach to his back or his side and Alan couldn't stop the yowl of pain before it escaped his mouth. The more he tried to remember, the more worried Alan became. Blinking multiple times, Alan finally cleared his fuzzy vision enough to realize that much time had passed. The sun was in a different position than it had been previous and that concerned Alan. Why hadn't his family come for him yet? His grandmother had told him he could go out for a half hour ride but to be back in time to go to pick up Gordon from swim practice. Alan had no class that day, being freshly transitioned from grammar school to junior high school. The younger kids got done with classes prior to the older kids.

A snarl caught his attention and Alan painstakingly turned his head to see Bane. He was bleeding from a couple punctures he'd obtained from the mean bull that caused this whole mess. The ground was obliterated, the grass torn away to reveal the dirt underneath. Bane was frothing at the mouth, and he stayed crouched in a protective stance in front of Alan who lay as a sitting duck in the field, wide open to attack.

The bull had a couple of bloody bites on his snout, more than likely from Bane trying to keep him away from Alan who couldn't protect himself. Biting the proverbial bullet, Alan tried to drag himself away from the attack site and it was then he realized his injuries surely surpassed the simple bump on his head like he'd originally thought. The ground was saturated in blood in multiple places, Alan hurt intensely, and he felt a wave of dizziness coupled with nausea flow through him.

Turning his head as quickly as he could manage, Alan retched, vomit spilling forth from his mouth in a flood. Alan tried to fight further attempts at expelling more stomach contents, but it was difficult to do especially when Alan opened his eyes at what he'd just choked up. The vomit was mostly blood and that further curdled Alan's stomach. Alan wound up having no choice but to choose laying his head down, regardless of the proximity to his mess.

Bane gave another snarl followed by an aggressive growl. Alan wondered why Bane was staying so close to him. Surely, he wouldn't be trying so hard to defend Alan because he actually liked him. Alan assumed Bane came around because he fed Bane from his plate a few times, not that the four-year-old German Shepherd took a liking to Alan. Alan had initially been afraid of Bane when they'd met just over a year ago. Even back then Alan recalled that Scott and John probably grew tired of Alan's fear of dogs.

"Bane, help me…I'm scared!" Alan sobbed, terrified that he was going to die before his head plopped onto the ground, unconsciousness taking hold and cradling the child in its comfortable embrace.

~.~.~.~.~

John checked his watch, humming in displeasure that his baby brother had yet to return from his ride with Juniper. Their grandmother had finally told John she was going to go get Gordon from swim practice and take Virgil to his piano lessons after she returned with the family fish. Scott was out with friends and so that left the second oldest boy to keep an eye on his brothers.

John often wondered why he was given such responsibilities; true he loved his brothers younger and older but somehow, he felt like the duty of babysitting should fall to someone younger like Virgil or Gordon.

Okay, on second thought. Maybe having Gordon babysit would be a big mistake. He certainly wasn't very responsible to be left on his own let alone left in charge of another life. Perhaps John was the best candidate to watch over his brothers. At least in lieu of Scott. Checking his watch again, John heaved a sigh. Alan was more than a little late. He was very late. Figuring he'd best go see what was taking him so long, John stood to scribble out a note for Gordon in case he hadn't returned by the time Gordon was dropped off by their grandmother.

Venturing out on the porch, John could distantly hear the barking of Bane. He knew it was Bane because he was the only dog that lived within a mile of the Tracy family homestead. He wondered what was going on with that dog, Bane wasn't normally a barker. Shaking his head briefly, John stepped off the porch and went towards the barn where Juniper was kept. Just as he was opening the barn door, John turned when he heard a door shut. Looking in the distance John could see that their grandmother had returned and was dropping Gordon off in exchange for Virgil who had been upstairs studying his material for his piano lessons. John raised a hand, waving towards his grandmother and his younger brother Virgil who both waved out the window back at him as they turned to leave. Gordon went up onto the porch, opening the front door and tossed his swim bag inside before jogging out to join John near the barn.

"Hey! What's up Johnny boy? Isn't it a bit late to be feeding the animals?" Gordon asked as he slowed to a walk. The fifteen-year-old smiled at his older brother before tilting his head in question. "Where's Alan? Grandma told me that she was going to bring him along when she came to pick me up. "

"That is a very good question Gordon, a very good question indeed. I would give you an answer if I knew what our darling baby brother was up to now if I only knew." John said, sarcasm heavy in his voice just as he hefted the heavy barn door open to see Juniper's stall which was normally the first inside the barn was left standing wide open. Juniper was nowhere to be seen and for that matter…neither was Alan. "Well shit."

Gordon snorted, wisely stepping out of range before he spoke. "I'm telling Scott you said that."

"Go ahead, I'm an adult. Besides you'll be the one getting your mouth washed out with Grandma's soap." John said, swiveling on his heel as he scanned the property in the distance. Alan was usually good about not being late. Juniper wasn't a terribly old horse, but their grandma had told the boys that they weren't permitted to ride Juniper for longer than a half hour as she tired easily. "Where could they be?"

"Who?" Gordon asked as he too looked at the vast field, hoping to see his brother in the distance.

"Alan and Juniper. Grandma told Alan to be back over an hour ago." John continued looking, frowning as he could still hear Bane barking in the distance. A coil of dread settled in John's stomach when it occurred to him that Bane had never quit barking. It continued at the same pace, carrying with it the same intensity. Right about then the sound of a horse's neigh caught John's attention and he turned to see Juniper, still dressed out in her bridle and saddle sans her rider. "Fuck."

"Okay, now I'm worried. I can count on one hand the number of times I've heard you say that, and the only time was when Alan and Scott had been in that car accident." Gordon rambled, making John's ire grow.

"Gordon, do me a favor." John said as he took off at a jog for the house. "Can it!"

"Where are you going?!" Gordon woefully cried as he took off after John at a run. His brother had considerably longer legs than the younger boy, so he had to run to keep up.

"Didn't you see Juniper? She was injured. That means Alan is hurt somewhere. Who knows where he is and in what condition. Not only that, but grandma had warned me just the other day before I went for a jog that there were wild dogs in the neighborhood. Alan could be hurt or in need of protection so I'm grabbing grandpa's shotgun. We need to find him. Right now. "

John didn't care to notice that Gordon no longer followed him, he continued at his current pace. Without stopping, John entered the homestead, going to the doorway entering his late grandfather's study and grabbed the shotgun that hung overhead. Reaching up, John grabbed the box of shells, stuffing a couple in the pockets of his flannel shirt he'd borrowed from Virgil. Turning, John sprinted out of the house and stopped momentarily when he was greeted by Gordon who sat atop the old dirt bike the brothers used to race around the property. It was a bit small for two people, better suited to someone of Alan's stature. But Gordon had felt most comfortable on the old machine and so the beast as they'd called it was what he'd brought out.

"Let's go." Gordon said, not bothering to put on a helmet.

John hopped onto the back of the dirt bike, settling the shotgun on the tops of his thighs as he wrapped an arm around Gordon's waist when the younger kickstarted the bike. Gordon applied pressure to the throttle, driving in a close circle before turning towards the field. John leaned close to Gordon's ear so he could be heard over the growl of the engine.

"Go towards Bane's bark, he hasn't stopped!" John pointed in the direction he last heard Bane's barking come from. Gordon nodded his understanding and gave the throttle more power. The closer they rode, the louder the barking became. John felt the earlier dread deepen as he and Gordon rode up on why Bane was barking so much.

The German shepherd stayed crouched low; hackles raised. John scrabbled for the shotgun in his lap, loading two rounds and taking aim despite his brother increasing the speed at which they flew in the direction of the enraged bull. John didn't want to shoot the bull; it wasn't his grandmother's to begin with. He was on their farm offering stud services to their female cattle.

Gordon gulped as he saw the massive but once majestic pure black bull staring Bane down. The redhead nearly choked when he spotted his little brother laid out flat on the ground. Bane was standing over Alan, teeth bared and snarling, big fluffy body seemingly three times its size poised over Alan, protecting the boy. Gordon zipped around the three of them, using his left foot as a fulcrum to turn around them all. John maintained his aim, pulling the trigger and with a terrifying accuracy, John hit his mark. The nice thing was, he wasn't shooting to kill, he was shooting to scare. John's shot hit true, spraying a bunch of dirt up into the bull's face to force him back from Bane. John didn't say it aloud, but he saw Alan just as Gordon had.

Gordon zipped around the bull, Bane, and Alan again. He felt a chill race up his spine but didn't dare voice anything to John. He was taking aim again as the bull was advancing on Bane once more. He paused however when Bane lunged at the bull, his mouth clamping down on the bull's nose. Bane shook his head, releasing the bull and taking position over Alan again.

"John! Shoot the fucking thing, he's going to kill them!" Gordon yelled over the engine as he spun around them all again. At this rate, there would be a giant circle of dirt in the field that could be confused with a small crop circle.

Pulling the trigger once more, John hit the dirt in front of the bull's hooves and the beast reared up with a bellow. But the latest shot had the desired effect and the bull retreated more than a couple feet. Gordon stopped the dirt bike, long enough for John to hop off. The older brother handed the shotgun off to Gordon since he was the one holding still at present.

Running to Alan, John ordered the German shepherd to stand down. He kept an eye on the bull, not trusting that the attack was done just because it retreated. Dropping to his knees, John pulled Alan into his arms. The eleven-year-old wasn't heavy by any means, so John picked him up with ease. He chose not to address the feeling of blood soaking into his clothes or the feeling of Alan's broken body beneath his fingertips. Turning, John ran back towards Gordon and the dirt bike. He hadn't cared of the rules towards injured people being kept still. The threat of further harm still loomed, and John knew Alan couldn't take any further attacks, meanwhile it was clear that Bane was exhausted from his efforts.

~.~.~.~.~

Fitting all three of them on the small dirt bike was no easy feat by any means necessary. John nestled Alan between his chest and Gordon's back, cradling the unconscious child with the utmost care. Gordon wasted no time in gunning the engine and flying through the open field. Gordon could see Bane running after them in his peripheral vision and he felt bad for the dog, but there wasn't enough room for all three of them let alone a dog as well.

"Get to Mr. Carlson's, he can drive us to the hospital!" John yelled to be heard over the engine of the dirt bike. The growl of the engine was deafening to the two older brothers. John kept ducking his head, lightly patting Alan's cheek in hopes of rousing the child. He didn't want to address the injuries he could see, let alone the ones he couldn't.

"Alan, you're going to be okay." John murmured. He bit his lip; he didn't want anything to happen to his baby brother. Not after losing his mom and his dad going off to parts unknown. Scott usually insisted that their dad was trying to find himself again after the death of their mom, but John had his doubts. What self-respecting father abandoned his five children, leaving them essentially orphans because he couldn't handle the death of his wife, especially eight years after the fact? It just didn't make sense.

Gordon took the corner leaving the field a little fast (read recklessly) for John's liking and they whipped up onto the gravel laden path that would take them down the service road towards the highway. Gordon gave the throttle more power, leaning with the bike as he sped down Mr. Carlson's driveway. Bane belonged to Mr. Carlson and the older man would routinely have dinner together with the small family. Virgil often said he thought Mr. Carlson was sweet on their grandmother, but John had his doubt about that too.

Bringing the dirt bike to a sudden halt, Gordon jumped off the bike and ran ahead of John when the older hefted Alan into his arms again. The youngster hadn't woken up yet and that terrified John. He wasn't equipped to handle this; he didn't deal well with high stress.

"Mr. Carlson! Mr. Carlson! Hey! Please we need your help!" Gordon yelled, reaching the porch, and pounding his fists on Mr. Carlson's front door. The older man appeared at the door within moments, frown firmly in place as it was clear they'd woken him up. His glasses were askew, and his eyes were partially pried open.

"What's the matter?" Mr. Carlson asked, voice shrewd as he tried to comprehend what was going on.

"We need you to take us to the hospital. Grandma isn't home and we don't have a vehicle that will make it into town. Alan's been hurt." John hurriedly explained. When the older man saw the blood coating John's arms and chest as well as the child practically dripping with the crucial lifeblood, he needed to stay alive, the former police chief jumped into action. "Please, help him."

Mr. Carlson grabbed his keys which hung by the front door, and he hustled the brothers to his pickup truck. There wasn't room in the front for them all and Bane jumped in to sit next to Mr. Carlson meanwhile John and Gordon clambered into the bed of the truck. Alan was laying in the V of John's legs. Gordon was perched on the tire well as they sped from the driveway.

Mr. Carlson turned on his hazard lights, speeding around cars that crept down the highway at a leisurely pace that didn't suit the high anxiety of the flight to the hospital. Soon a cop was on their tail, but Gordon looked through the window to see Mr. Carlson on his cell phone. Likely talking to dispatch, it certainly helped when you were the former police chief in the town you raised your family. Soon the cop whizzed around Mr. Carlson's truck and kept pace with them. John bent over at the waist to whisper to Alan who had yet to awaken still.

John felt the earlier dread increase. He finally looked down at Alan and all he could manage was a long stare. He saw the blood, could hear his brother trying to breathe and he felt his heart clench deep inside at the sound of his brother's breathing. It was a gut-wrenching sound; one John didn't wish to listen to or discuss ever again when this was all over. The arrival to the hospital happened faster than John thought possible, though it was probably expedited with the police escort clearing traffic for them.

Medical staff awaited them when Mr. Carlson's truck tires squealed to a screeching stop. A couple nurses clambered into the bed of the truck, lifting Alan gingerly onto a backboard and lifting him up and away. John scrambled up to his knees meanwhile Gordon stood, the brothers watching as Alan was whisked away. They wanted to follow, but Mr. Carlson wisely got them to stay put rather than running around the hospital like a couple lunatics.

Mr. Carlson eventually led them inside once the initial shock wore off. John had rarely shown tears building in his eyes as he unbuttoned the flannel shirt he'd borrowed from Virgil. One of their grandmother's friends was a nurse inside the hospital and she'd called her husband to bring a shirt for John to borrow as he'd refused the clinically scented scrub tops despite wearing a shirt coated in his brother's blood. When they did go into the hospital, they were met with a doctor that shook his head. There wasn't anything that he could do for Alan. He needed care and expertise at another hospital with equipment that this small hospital just didn't have. He needed the approval from Alan's guardian or parent to be transferred via Med Flight to another hospital, one that specialized in trauma, out of state in Missouri. John had been calling his dad, his grandmother and Scott. Nobody was answering their phones and as a last-ditch effort, John called Virgil's piano instructor. Maybe his grandma was there with Virgil while he had practice and had her phone on silent. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

"Hello?" John gave a choked sob as Virgil's piano instructor answered her phone after the first ring. The nineteen-year-old felt too young to be dealing with this. "Hello?"

"Ms. Mable…it's John Tracy. Please…please tell me my grandma is still there."

"I'm sorry sweetheart, your grandmother and brother just stepped out the door."

"Can you catch them please? I need them to come to the hospital, Alan's hurt and I'm not a listed guardian." John turned his back when he noticed Gordon watching him. He didn't want his younger brother to see him break.

"Hold on sweetheart." Ms. Mable sounded like she was running through her home, and he could distantly hear the sounds of traffic as she opened the door. "Ruth! Virgil, come back! You've got an urgent phone call!"

John gave another sob as he heard his grandmother's voice get closer. Soon he was on the phone with the matriarch, and she spoke evenly with him, attempts at getting him to calm doing little.

"Baby, what's the matter?" Grandma asked as she listened to John's strangled sobs. John rarely felt safe showing emotion around any of his family, but his grandmother was his safety net. Without his mom around, John usually sought comfort in their grandma.

"Grandma, Lucifer attacked Alan…I think he trampled him. Alan's in bad shape and the doctors here can't do anything to help. They need your permission to transfer him to Saint Luke's in Missouri. Please get here, I can't handle this on my own."

"I'm on my way baby, is there a doctor that I can speak with?" Ruth asked as she heard John's shaky intake of breath before the phone was passed to a doctor that introduced himself as Byron Kramer, an emergency room physician. Ruth spoke briefly with him, giving her blessing for Alan to be transferred and they hung up. Ruth told Byron that John could go with Alan if he wanted to, but she wasn't going to force him if he couldn't handle it. The blonde ran after Byron when he was told he could go with Alan and that left Gordon with Mr. Carlson.

The redhead felt like an icy hand was squeezing his heart and he couldn't breathe. Turning, the teenager sprinted out of the hospital and took to doubling over while gulping in oxygen once he was away from the antiseptic smell in the air. He abhorred hospitals, associating them with death and suffering. Mr. Carlson went to his truck, letting Bane out to walk around and as soon as he was released the German Shepard was wrapped in a mess of legs and arms. The fluffy albeit intimidating dog sat panting while Gordon clung to him.

"Thank you." Gordon whispered brokenly into the dog's fur. "Thank you for protecting him."