Title: Helicopters

Author: Oldach's Dream

Summary: It was a second nature, an instinct. Get in car. Close door. Reach for belt buckle. It was automatic. It wasn't supposed to save his life. It wasn't supposed to be the reason his best friend was inches from death.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Supernatural.

Rating: T or PG 13

Author's note: I really love all the reviews I've been getting and I'm so glad you guy's like the story. Keep reviewing, it makes me happy! And happy people write chapters faster!

Also, this chapter features a bit of John - daddy bashing. I hadn't intended for it to work out like this when I started it, but it went where it wanted, and this is what ended up happening. I can't say I'm sorry about it.

I think Sam and Dean's relationship as brother's is much more important Then their relationship with their dad.

Chapter Three: This is where the children used to play

"Sam Winchester!" Dean finally shouted, fed up with the unresponsiveness of the secretary on duty. "My brother's name is Samuel. Winchester. How hard can that be to find!"

"Calm down." John tried fruitlessly to soothe his eldest son.

"No!" Dean spat, uncaring as to how immature or obnoxious he sounded. "I want to know where Sam is. The message we got said his injuries were minor. If they're so minor, how come he's not out there in the waiting room? Huh?"

"Sir." The secretary, nurse, whoever she was, said tightly. "Your shouting is not helping things any."

"No!" Dean agreed furiously. "What would help would be you telling me where the hell my brother is!"

Dean and John had arrived at the hospital only about ten or fifteen minutes ago, but it felt much longer to them. Dean's anger was off the charts and John was scarcely holding it together.

This was the kind of thing neither man was used to. Oh, sure, they could hunt and battle evil things for weeks on end. But a car accident?

Something Dean couldn't protect his brother from? Something John couldn't teach his youngest son how to fight? This was new for them. This was terrifying.

"Look, my shift started after your brother was brought in. All I know for sure is that he was treated by Dr. Kurt. It's been a busy night." The lady raised her hands slightly, in a show of defense or defeat.

"I don't really care how busy..."

However, this time Dean was cut off by his father.

"Dr. Kurt isn't the name of the doctor who contacted us." John's teeth were gritted, but he managed a much more pleasant tone than his son. "Are you sure you have the right file?"

The woman's brow furrowed in honest confusion. "I don't know who else could of..."

She was cut off by a deep, tired old voice behind them. "I believe Dr. Grandel made that call after Sam gave one of our nurses a bit of trouble."

Dean and John both spun around to face the doctor that had appeared behind them. He seemed to be in his late fifties. His hair was graying and the lines on his face traced the life of a man that had experienced far too much pain, seen too much loss.

"Dr. Kurt, good." The annoying lady sounded relieved and Dean had the fleeting urge to flick her off. "These two are here about Samuel Winchester."

"I know, I heard them." The doctor smiled at the women, but his sarcasm was barley hidden. Dean found himself immediately trusting this old man.

"If you two would come with me, we can go somewhere and talk more privately." he waited for their responses before proceeding down the short hallway.

Dean considered objecting and demanding to know what was going on right now. But his dad pulled on his sleeve, leaving him little choice in the matter.

Soon all three men stood in a more secluded part of the hospital hallway. Away from the hustle and bustle of all the patients. John was ringing his hands nervously, looking at the doctor expectantly.

Dean had never seen his father look more scared. He knew the older man had faced terrifying things on hunts before, but there's something about the adrenaline a fight empowers you with, that allows you to feed on that fear. To help, instead on hinder, you.

This was different. Both men had had an hour and a half car ride to let their respective fear stew and now it was eating away at them.

"How's my son?" His voice was shaking.

The doctor sighed. "Physically, Sam is alright. He's dislocated his shoulder; they reset it on the ambulance ride here. He tore a ligament. We gave him a sling that he's going to have to use for two weeks, and he'll have to take it easy for about a month or so after that. Depending on how much effort he puts into the stretching and physical therapy exercises we recommend, he'll regain full use of it in no time."

The physical stuff was the easy part for doctors. The rest was a decision of what to tell whom; and it was always dependent on how much the doctor had come to care about the patient in question.

Dr. Kurt knew of Dean and John Winchester. He had gotten the father's name from the file he had on Sam, where he'd gotten his name, age, medical history. All the standard stuff that accompanied boring medical files.

Information on Dean, however, came from Dr. Grandel, when he had explained who he had contacted on Sam's behalf, and why.

Calling an older sibling when a parent was available was an unorthodox thing to do, but in Sam's case, it had seemed too irrelevant to really make an issue. Moreover, Sam had seemed dead set on his decision, and by the time it was brought to his attention, the doctor was too worried about other things to really care.

"I'm not sure I understand exactly what happened." John spoke slowly, obviously still trying to wrap his mind around everything. "I know this was the result of a car accident, but Sam doesn't have a car. He doesn't even have his license."

"He was riding in a car with another boy. An Alex Brecken." Dr. Kurt searched their faces for signs that they recognized the name.

John was only vaguely aware of who the doctor was referring to, having heard it mentioned randomly in conversation once or twice. His knowledge went about as far as; some kid Sam hung out with.

Dean was a more interesting sight. Try as he might, he could not keep the anger off his features. In his opinion, this kid had caused way too many problems for them already. He was the reason Dean and Sam hadn't spoken in days. Now he was the person responsible for his kid brother getting into a car crash? Dean could not accept this.

"Was he drunk or something?" Dean seethed. "I bet you anything he was drunk, or stoned. Irresponsible, wanna be tough, juvenile delinquent."

Both Dr. Kurt and his dad were surprised at the ferocity of his outburst. Nevertheless, John didn't hesitate to jump on the bandwagon, desperate for anything to blame this on. Dean and his father shared that trait, the need to assign blame.

If they had something to be angry at, then they had something to fight, and that's the only way John knew how to deal with anything. It's the only way Dean liked to deal with anything.

"Is that true?" he asked angrily. "Where is the little..."

"Mr. Winchester, Dean." The tone of the old doctor's voice could not be ignored. "Alex Brecken was killed tonight."

An eternity passed in a moment. Before guilt and remorse came crashing down upon him.

"Oh." Dean said stupidly.

For a few moments, the doctor explained the specifics behind the accident. How Sam had managed to escape with minor injuries while Alex had been killed. Dean wondered if he was explaining all this because he thought they needed to know, or if his dad had asked and Dean had some how missed it.

He felt as if he was drowning in a sea of guilt, and the twisting, churning feeling in his gut agreed entirely. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought someone had come up and sucker punched him in the abdomen. This wasn't right; this was not something Sammy was supposed to have to deal with.

"When he found out Alex didn't make it, he went into shock and passed out." The doctor was back to talking about Sam, and Dean focused on him again.

"I gave him a sedative a couple of hours ago. He should be fine enough to leave by morning." Dr. Kurt sighed. "I could tell by Sam's reaction and concern that he and Alex had been very good friends. This is an emotional experience that should be handled delicately. Psychologically speaking, Sam's going to be in a very vulnerable place for a while."

Dean might have imagined it, but he swore the doctor's eyes were focused on him.

Was it possible he knew? Did this doctor somehow know about what had happened just days ago, what the brothers had fought about? Or was he just being paranoid? Maybe his guilt was that transparent. Perhaps it was that obvious that he was a bad brother.

"I want to see my son." John's voice left very little room for argument.

The room Sam was set up in looked more like a waiting room than it did a hospital room. The walls were a pale blue, instead of the expected white. A single bed sat in the center of the room.

There were no intense machines or tubes connected anywhere to Sam. He didn't even sport the usual hospital attire. He was still clad in baggy blue jeans and a white undershirt. He was simply sleeping.

In fact, if you ignored the sling cradling his left arm and his extreme paleness, he looked almost normal.

Yeah, Dean thought sarcastically to himself. His normal, hospitalized, emotionally unstable little brother.

Sam wasn't okay, the doctor was wrong. Sam couldn't be fine; he'd just lost his best friend.

0000000000000000000000000

It didn't take Sam long to become aware of his surroundings this time. After all, it was the second time he'd woken up here and the uncomfortable feeling of the hospital bed was a hard thing to forget.

Something was different this time though. He didn't open his eyes, just focused on that feeling in the pit of his stomach. He felt...safe.

"They were good friends dad, I told you that already." The hushed voice of his older brother rang throughout the tiny room. That explained the safe feeling.

"Is that why Sam hasn't wanted to move in so long?" His father's accusing voice joined his and it didn't take Sam long to put the pieces together. They had finally gotten the message and driven here. By the sound of their tired voices, they'd obviously been there, waiting for Sam to wake up, for a while now. "Because I thought he wanted to stay to take his S.A.T.'s at the end of the year."

"I'm sure that's true." Dean's voice was attempting to calm their father. Sam couldn't understand why he was so upset.

"I don't think it is. I think Sam lied to me so he could stay in this town with his friend." Sam could hear the inverted commas fall into place around 'friend'. Like it was a dirty word or something. It provoked an unnamed and unpleasant feeling in Sam. One he did not want to examine. So he focused instead on his brother's next words.

"The guy just died, dad." Dean's voice had a tinge of anger that surprised Sam.

The last time they had spoken, Dean had made some crude remark about Sam and Alex having sex. It was funny, up until that very moment, Sam had forgotten all about it. He remembered now though, how pissed off he had been at the time. Dean was his older brother, and sure, they fought sometimes, but he wasn't supposed to say things like that. Things purposely intended to cause pain.

"Death is always a tragedy." John admitted and there were a few minutes of silence. Sam felt a little weird, just laying there listening to them, letting them believe he was asleep. But for some reason he could not bring himself to open his eyes and admit to consciousness.

Maybe it was because he could not bring himself to face them.

He imagined how conflicted Dean must have been feeling. He knew his brother was not good with complex emotions and Sam felt slightly sorry for him.

It had taken him an hour's worth of internal rants, a three-mile jog and two of his father's beers, but he had finally figured it out. Dean had acted like a jerk because he was jealous.

For as long as Sam could remember, it had always been Sam and Dean. Dean and Sam. Two brothers against a world full of evil things. At least, that's how it always felt to Sam, and presumably Dean as well.

Dean spent his life protecting Sam, and Sam let him. Not knowing how else to live, not wanting to live anyway else.

When Sam started hanging around with Alex, and getting attached to the other boy, Dean got scared. Scared that if Sam and Alex became close enough, that Sam wouldn't need him anymore. That Alex could somehow drive a wedge between them or take his place.

Dean had been threatened of Alex's influence over him and jealous of how close they had become.

When Sam realized this, the intense, seething anger he'd been feeling towards Dean had dulled to mild annoyance. He thought that Dean should know him better than that. But Sam could at least see where his older brother was coming from.

He wasn't sure how he would act if the situation had been reversed. If Dean started spending all his free time with another guy, a friend. If he started to call the guy his best friend. Or even if he got a serious girlfriend and fell in love. Sam didn't want to think about how he'd be in that situation. He could only hope that it didn't come up for a very, very long time.

So he'd made up his mind to forgive Dean as soon as he attempted to apologize, which Sam knew he would eventually.

Then he'd gotten in Alex's car, put on his seat belt, and everything changed.

"Maybe this is a good thing." Sam was jolted back to the reality of the hospital room, after having almost drifted back to sleep thinking about the events of the last few days.

"Tell me you did not just say that?" Dean's disbelieving tone had Sam wide awake in a heartbeat though. Ensuring him that his father's mumbled words weren't a figment of his half-conscious mind.

"I'm not saying that death is ever a good thing." John quickly defended himself. "And I wouldn't wish it on anybody. I'm just saying, there's nothing we can do to change what happened, and maybe we can use this to get Sam to believe what you and I already know."

Sam imagined that Dean gave their father some sort of look, because he kept speaking after a momentary pause.

"That forming any type of serious relationship outside this family is dangerous. That keeping everyone at arm's length is necessary for the kind of work we do."

Sam had never fully comprehended how broken his father really was, until that moment. The moment he admitted he was willing to use his son's grief against him, to make him a better hunter. He felt tears sting at his eyes.

"You expect me to agree with that?" Dean's voice was disgusted and Sam couldn't help but feel relieved. He didn't know what he would do if his brother had sided with his father on that. "Sam's friend just died, and you want to look at it like it's a good thing?"

Sam was absently amazed at how low Dean's voice still was. It sounded scary.

"I'm just asking you to see this from a different view." His father's voice too, was still low, but there was a hint of pleading in it that made Sam want to smirk triumphantly. "The kid is dead. That's a tragedy, yes. But if we let Sam focus on that and nothing else, you know everything's gonna go to hell. He'll stop training all together; he'll get lazy and depressed. And the next time he's up against something he can't face, he'll be the one who dies. Do you want that?"

"Of course not." Dean responded automatically.

"So you agree with me, we should use this to help Sam understand."

"You know, you keep saying 'we'." Dean pointed out. "But if you want to try to use this death as a way to help you make Sam start... playing by your rules, then you're on your own."

Sam could have sworn he felt Dean take a step closer to his bed.

"Now listen to me Dean..." but Dean wouldn't hear it. He cut his father off, something that Sam had no memory of his brother ever doing. Ever.

"No. You listen to me for once. I don't care if you spend the rest of your life trying to get Sam to be the good little soldier you turned me into, Sammy's got a mind of his own. He'll do what he wants." Dean took a breath, and Sam actually had to struggle to hear his next words. "But if you ever use tonight as a way to do it, I swear to God I'll..."

"You'll what Dean? What would you do to me?" Taunting. Used as a method to get the enemy to loose his cool. Sam knew the old tactic well. Fortunately, so did Dean, and he stayed calm.

"I won't let Sam live in a place where tragedies turn into training methods. You know Sam, dad. He couldn't live like that." Sam highly doubted his father knew him at all, but that was a fleeting thought, as he was focused intently on the words being spoken around him.

"So you're saying that you'd take him away? That you'd run away?" Now it was John's voice that was disbelieving.

"I'd protect him." Dean confirmed. "Isn't that what you raised me to do?"

His words were now taunting, Sam marveled at how they could switch places so easily.

"From demons and ghosts, Dean! Not from me! I'm his father."

"If you'd pray on Sam's mental state like that, if you'd take the best friend the kid's ever had and use his death as something that could benefit you and your goalthen yeah, you are something he needs protecting from."

Sam could not believe what he was hearing. His heart was pounding frantically and he wished that he could open his eyes, but he knew he couldn't. Because if he did, they would stop talking, Dean would stop defending him. Stop standing up to their dad.

Sam knew this was something Dean needed desperately to do. Whether these feelings, of obvious resentment, were freshly formed out of anger for what John was saying and Dean's need to defend Sam. Or if they were long standing and just now being brought to the surface. Sam kept quiet because Dean needed to make his opinions known.

Maybe even more than Dean needed to say it, Sam needed to hear it. He needed to confirm his belief that his older brother would defend him no matter what. Even when that meant going up against their father.

It took him a moment, but Sam identified the feeling coursing through him as pride. Dean could beat up any bully. Kill any supernatural phenomenon that dare messed with his little brother, but never before had Dean stood up to their dad. It reassured Sam, and made him proud.

"Are you sure your my son?" John was angry now. "Because no son of mine would dare speak to me like that."

Sam didn't really think about it. All the fights he and his dad had had before tonight. Many of them much worse than the one taking place right now. Obviously, John held his eldest son to a higher standard.

He didn't think about how his father was implying that Sam wasn't really his son. He didn't think about it; but he couldn't help feeling it.

"I'm your son. Your warrior," Dean spit the word distastefully. "Second. I'm Sammy's brother first. That's just the way it is."

Sam could feel the tension in the air, it was all consuming. Mixed with his pride and guilt, he found it surprisingly difficult to breathe.

"Fine." The word was final.

Sam heard him walk to the door and slam it behind him as he stormed out. He'd been expecting it though, so he didn't flinch, didn't even move.

It did, however, become easier to breathe after he knew their father was gone.

Dean was silent for a moment, then chuckled tensely.

"Sammy, man," he said, taking a deep, calming breath. "I've yelled at him a lot tonight." Another pause. "You need to wake up. That doctor said you weren't really hurt, but it's been hours and your still not awake. Seriously, this whole, still as a dead person, coma like sleep is starting to freak me out a little. I need to talk to you, Sam."

"I'm awake." Sam's voice sounded more choked than he'd expected it to. He opened his eyes, glaring at the offending florescent lights of the room. He had wanted to say something witty and clever, like Dean would of, but found he was just not up to it.

Dean's face, even as Sam blinked to clear his vision, looked unmistakably relieved.

"You could of mentioned that before I got all... Chick flick moment." Dean would always be Dean.

"Chick flick moment?" Sam couldn't help but question. "That's a nice way to phrase your little emotional outburst."

His older brother simply shrugged, and Sam felt the mood of the room thicken, although it wasn't as uncomfortable as it had been moments before when their father had been present. As Dean took a seat on the bed, parallel to Sam's hip.

Sam sat up slightly, propping himself against the back of the bed. He was happy to note that the extreme grogginess that had accompanied him the last time he'd woken up was no longer present.

"Sam..." The way Dean let his voice trail off made him sad. "How long have you been wake?"

"A while." he said vaguely.

Dean nodded and looked, for a moment, like he wasn't going to press it. Sam should have known better.

"Did you hear?" he asked. "What dad said?" Dean never was one for mind games, or tricks.

"Yeah." he admitted, only because he knew he wouldn't be able to lie to his brother. Not like this, while he was laying on a hospital bed. Feeling weak and emotionally drained. He could barely ever get away with lying to Dean, and he didn't try all that much either.

"I'm sorry." he said and his eyes searched Sam's.

"Because dad was being a jerk?" Sam smiled lightly. "It's not like its surprising or anything. I liked how you yelled at him, though. How does it feel, being the bad son?"

"Dad had no right to say the things he did Sam." Dean wouldn't let his joking words distract him.

"I know." Sam said seriously. "Thanks for sticking up for me, by the way."

Dean nodded and a moment of silence passed. Sam could tell by the conflicting emotions flickering across his brother's features and the way he was rubbing the back of his neck, that he had something else to say.

"What is it Dean?" Sam asked softly, fearing that there might have been a part of the conversation that he'd missed.

"What I said the other day..." Dean started and Sam knew immediately what he was referring to and where he was going.

"It's okay." Sam interrupted.

"No it's not. I was... I..."

"Acted like a dick?" Sam supplied. His words were firm, but they lacked any real anger.

Dean looked at him, his eyes filled with a pleading, sad, desperate, almost pathetic look. It made Sam falter because he wasn't used to seeing that looked draped over his brother's face. Then again, tonight had held a whole slew of surprises for Dean.

"Yeah, I did." he admitted softly and hung his head.

"You know, you wouldn't be saying that if Alex hadn't just..." Sam had tried to say the words with a straight face. Attempted casual even, to prove to Dean that he was all right. But his voice faltered and his eyes focused on some random spot on the wall, just right of Dean's concerned glaze. "Died." he finished softly and took a deep breath. "He's dead."

A long silence filled the room, as Dean allowed Sam time to try and compose himself. It took a few minutes before Sam's shallow breathing evened out at all. He was fighting tears, and it made Dean's heart break.

"I'm sorry Sammy." Dean spoke barely above a whisper.

Sam's snort sounded suspiciously like a sob, "Talk about your chick flick moments."

Dean forced a smirk, but couldn't hide his growing concern. This was his little brother. The squirt he'd been taking care of since that fateful night so many years ago, when their mother had been murdered.

Looking helpless, confined to a hospital bed. Physically fine, yet moments away from a complete breakdown.

"Sam..." Dean started, not knowing what to say, only that he wanted to comfort his baby brother somehow.

"Why, Dean?" Sam's gaze met his, and for a fleeting second, Dean wished it hadn't. His eyes were so laced with confusion, sadness, and anger. His voice cracked with child like innocence and Dean could tell something in him was breaking.

The same thing that had broken in Dean all those years ago after their mom's death. It was what their dad had been using to get Dean to help him fight. Help him find the thing that had killed their mother.

It was that innocence that had protected Sam, that made him hate their father for what he turned them into. It was what had protected Sam better than Dean ever could.

Until now.

"Sam..." Dean tried, but his brother kept going.

"It's not fair." His voice was choked, but rising with intensity. "It was a car accident. It was a drunk driver and a pole and a heap of metal. What's the point of being able to fight evil, if we can't even save people from car accidents?"

Sam sounded somewhere in between angry and desperate and pleading. "It was a car crash." he threw his hands up, exasperated. "Why couldn't it of been a ghost? Or a demon? A poltergeist? Even the thing that killed mom? If it was that, dad wouldn't waste any time tracking it down and killing it.

He wouldn't be saying that Alex's death is a good thing..." his voice broke. "He wouldn't be trying to use it to... He wouldn't...And you two wouldn't be fighting...and I...I hate this Dean."

Finally, Sam let a chocked sob escape. He glanced at his brother, with scared, tear-filled eyes, as if expecting to be criticized for being emotional.

'I'm not dad.' Dean wanted to remind him, but said only,

"It's okay Sammy. I know."

"I really hate this."

Sam's hands covered his face as he continued to sob. Great wracking sobs that shook his entire body.

Dean scooted farther up the bed and placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. It was the only thing Dean could think of to do for him. Because he couldn't fix this.

There was nothing Dean could say that would repair what had been broken tonight. He wished, to whatever higher might exist, that there was.

He wished he could tell Sam that everything would get better. That the pain would heal completely, and he'd be able to move on. But Dean could not lie to Sam. And that's all those words were; empty promises. Lies.

The truth was, the pain would always be there. Sure, it would fade over time. Or he would adjust to it so much that it only felt like it had faded, Dean had never been able to tell the difference.

You never fully move on from a tragedy like this. Look at their dad; he'd spent the last seventeen years searching for the thing that had killed his wife. He damaged both his sons in the process. All because he couldn't let go.

Dean tightened his grip on Sam's shoulder and mumbled, "It's alright

Sammy." and even though he knew it wasn't, he had to say something to let his little brother know that he was there for him.

That was the best he could do now.

"You'll be okay, I'm here." Dean wasn't even sure if Sam could hear him over his sobbing. "I'll always be here."

It wasn't enough though. Sam was in pain. So much pain that Dean could do nothing about. Because try as he might, he couldn't bring the dead back to life. He couldn't erase what he had said to Sam days ago, or what he had over heard between him and their father. He couldn't stop Sam from feeling guilty. He couldn't do anything to make this kind of pain go away.

He was helpless.

End Chapter.