Knocked Out

"Come on Sammy!" Dean barked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, fists raised and eyes shining.

"You said we could be done five minutes ago." Sam groaned.

"Not yet Sam! C'mon!" The way that Dean is jumping from side to side reminded Sam of a Labrador puppy with too much energy that is waiting for it's owner to throw the ball.

When sparring, Sam has learned it's better to let himself be the stationary target. Dean gets hyped up to the point where Sam stands a better chance if he lets Dean move around a lot and tire himself out. Sam is already breathing hard and he hasn't even managed to get one solid shot on his older brother.

Sam is a semester into his senior year and he has college applications waiting to be filled out. Instead he's in the back lot of the shabby apartment complex training.

Generally training isn't so bad. The push-ups and sit-ups he can manage. Even the running, he could handle. But the sparring. The sparring, he really hates.

Dean's good. Dean's better then him, probably always would be even though Sam was now the same height as him and looked like he was going to gain a couple of inches much to Dean's dismay.

But when training, Dean carried the determination that Sam lacked and that is what always seemed to matter in the end.

Dean circled Sam, jabbing at him.

"You're supposed to come at me Sam! Not run away!" Dean shouted as Sam stepped back from one of Dean's punches.

Both of them knew that if Dean really wanted, he could have Sam pinned down in a matter of seconds but Dean wasn't putting forth much effort right now as he continued to duck Sam's shots easily.

Sam was thankful that right now it wasn't so much about winning. He absolutely hated when John would watch them train, scrutinizing what was wrong with Sam's every move as Dean knocked him down time after time. It was frustrating to have his father yelling out directions that Sam was just too slow to follow.

"Dude." Dean rolls his eyes. "Come on" Dean sounds bored and he dances around Sam who is panting and sweating, trying desperately to connect one of his punches to Dean's gut.

Dean is too fast and he either ducks or blocks Sam every time and Sam is beginning to get frustrated. He starts to swing carelessly but heavy, hoping that he'll get lucky and hit Dean.

"Don't get sloppy Sammy."

Usually Dean's advice is helpful, but right now it's just pissing Sam off. If Dean really wants to spar he can go get in a bar fight or something as equally dumb. Sam has better things to do. Like prepare for his future.

"Can we be done now Dean?" Sam whined.

"Not 'till you clock me a good one Sammy!"

Sam gritted his teeth and moved into fighting stance. He closed in on Dean connecting a kick to Dean's stomach. Dean takes it without even flinching but grins.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!"

Even though Dean is a better fighter, Sam has practiced enough with Dean to know his weak spots. He knows that if he catches Dean when his guard is down, it's the highest possibility that Sam will ever have to throw in a decent shot.

The brothers circle each other, fists raised and eyes narrowed. Sam knows that he's getting better because Dean is stepping up his game, the perspiration starting to shine on Dean's forehead. The punches are becoming harder and more frequent and Sam knows that Dean is getting ready to take him to the ground.

Sam knows he needs to knock Dean off balance quickly.

Dean pauses for less then a split second and his arms drop to his sides. He reached down slightly to probably brush something off of his jeans but it's what Sam has been waiting for.

He managed to nail Dean in the stomach with a quick kick and Dean backs off. Sam knows that it means Dean is done. It's over.

Right now, Dean's defenses are down and it's a cheap shot, Sam knows it, but Dean has been taunting him all day and Sam decides to take it. He winds back his fist and solidly connects it against the side of Dean's head.

Dean dropped. He didn't even stumble backwards. He just plain dropped to the floor in a heap, his head making a sickening crack on the cement that makes Sam wince.

KO'd.

Sam looks at his fist disbelievingly. Did he just knock Dean out? Pride jolts through his body for a split second and he can't believe that he actually just won. He had pinned Dean once but he was pretty sure that Dean had let him.

Dean hasn't moved and Sam is positive that Dean didn't mean for this to happen. Dean would rather die then get his ass handed to him by his little brother.

Quickly, worry floods over the pride as Dean remains still.

For a second, Sam feels like this has to be a joke. Dean has to be just pulling a sick prank on him and any minute he will hop up with a shit-eating grin on his face and sucker punch Sam for being such a "worried girl" as he heads off to nab the first shower.

Dean is making no attempt to get up, but he moans, the noise low in his throat.

"Dean?" Sam called, leaning down and shaking Dean's shoulder. "Hey? Dean?

Dean's eyes slowly open but they aren't focused even the slightest bit and he stares directly passed Sam. Confusion etches through Dean's brow and he looks stunned, his eyes are still darting all over the place.

"Dean? You with me?" Dean hasn't said anything, which is making Sam more and more nervous.

Sam gripped Dean's shoulder as Dean tried to get to his feet but he didn't even make it to his knees before groaning and falling onto his back.

"Jesus Christ Dean. Are you okay? I'm so sorry Dean. I didn't mean to –" Sam stopped himself. Who was he kidding? Of course he meant to.

Dean tried again to stand up again, his arms flailing out as if he is trying to grab anything to help himself remain upright. This time, his head is the first thing to fall as if he doesn't have enough strength to hold it up. His body follows and he crumples to the ground.

"Hey Dean. Stay down okay? Your hurt."

Sam doubts Dean is hearing him because Dean makes an attempt to try and get up again but this time Sam pushes him down. Leave it to Dean to still be trying to get up even if he is barely conscious.

Sam knows enough about head injuries to know that this isn't good.

Dean is slumped over, his eyes closed.

"Dean? Wake up okay? Dean!"

Suddenly, Dean's back arches in a way that Sam is sure that the human back isn't supposed to bend. Dean convulses, foam dribbling out of his mouth and down the side of his face.

"Holy shit! Dean!" Sam doesn't know what to do but he positions Dean onto his side and tries his best to keep Dean's head from bashing into the pavement as Dean writhes and twists on the ground.

Almost as sudden as the seizure starts, it ceases and Dean's limbs go slack.

Sam tears out of the lot, screaming and legs pumping as he runs to the nearest door and bangs on it until a woman who appears to be in her late 30's opens it.

"Call 911! My brother's hurt!" He yells and she looks at him clearly frightened for a moment before rushing back inside to the phone.

Sam returns to his brother who still hasn't moved and is laying in the same position that Sam had left him.

Dean's mouth is gaping open as he gasps for air. His chest is heaving and drool continues to drip down his chin. Dean's eyes are rolled so deeply back in his head that it makes Sam feel as if he is going to throw up. This is his fault. He's the one who did this to Dean.

Sam does get sick. He manages to step a few feet away from Dean before he loses his lunch and breakfast. He has never seen Dean like this before. He looks back at his brother and tries a different tactic because Dean has never been able to resist Sam's begging before. Ever.

"Dean? Dean your really scaring me. Wake up Dean. Please?"

The only response is Dean's noisy breathing and the loud wail of sirens as an ambulance rounds the corner.

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