Dean loomed menacingly over Rick until the younger boy slowly slunk away. The crowds of onlookers also began to dissipate, realizing that there was nothing further to see.
Sam stormed over to his brother and stood breathing heavily in front of him.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?" he accused.
Dean had known this was coming but refused to second guess his decision. "Because you're hurt."
"YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T INTERFERE!"
"That was before I realized you were hurt!"
"LIKE YOU'VE NEVER FOUGHT HURT!"
"Yeah – I have. But you're not me!"
The brothers squared off for a few minutes, neither one willing to admit they may have been wrong.
When they were the only two people left standing in the field, Dean took a deep breath and looked at his brother. "Sam," he began. "You can't fight like that. He'd have killed you."
"No, he wouldn't," protested Sam.
"Sam, look at yourself. Your shoulder is dislocated and I'm pretty sure your wrist is broken too."
"So what?" responded Sam. Dean had embarrassed him in front of half the school and there was no way he was going to back down.
But Dean had had enough – of both his brother and the events of the day. He was tired from lack of sleep, their father was alone and injured back at the motel, he would have to answer for skipping out on his detention, the sheriff's officer had made him late enough that Sam had been hurt, and his little brother was being unreasonable.
"What did you want me to do? Let you fight him?' he challenged. "Then after he'd kicked your ass in front of everyone, I'd have had to jump in to stop him anyway. That would have been better?"
"He wouldn't have kicked my ass."
"Yes, Sam, he would have," countered Dean. "You can't move your right arm at all – not with the injuries you have. You'd have been fighting him one-handed. There's no way you could have won."
"But I coulda tried," shot back Sam irrationally.
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Sam had not been willing to admit that his injuries might be serious enough to require medical attention so Dean figured the best thing to do would be to convince him that they had to return to the motel to check on their father. Once they were there, Dean hoped that Sam would have calmed down enough to realize how much he was hurt. They'd deal with his injuries then.
The ride back to the motel had seemed longer than usual because it was made in complete silence. Even though Dean understood why Sam was furious with him, he didn't believe that he'd had any other choice but to do what he had done. Once the adrenaline in Sam's system had started to subside, he began to feel an enormous amount of pain. He spent most of the car ride with his eyes closed, leaning back in the seat and clutching his right arm.
Dean had tried to help Sam out of the Impala when they arrived at the motel but Sam still wanted nothing to do with him. So Dean had gone inside leaving Sam to make his own way into the room.
John was lying in the bed and, at first glance it appeared that he was asleep. But when Sam had come into the room and plopped himself down in one of the chairs with a heavy sign, John had opened his eyes and looked at him.
"What happened to you?" he asked weakly.
"Fight," responded Dean matter-of-factly.
He really didn't want to get into this with his father right now. He didn't feel up to it and knew that his father wasn't up to it either. But he didn't see any way around it.
"Rick?" asked John raising his head from the pillow to get a better look at his youngest son.
"Yeah – before I got there," replied Dean.
"Before you got there?" asked John incredulously.
Dean just nodded and said, "I'll explain later."
"How bad?" inquired John trying to focus on Sam for the time being.
"Dislocated shoulder and I think his wrist is broken. I'm just gonna check it out."
"Like hell you are!" burst out Sam.
"Guys!" sighed John as he lay back down on the bed.
"Sam," replied Dean. "I know you're pissed at me but we have to find out what's wrong."
"I don't care,' retorted Sam. "You're not gonna do it!"
"SAM!" interrupted John obviously irritated. "Dean's right. You're wounded and someone has to find out what has to be done. I can't do it right now. You'll have to let Dean have a look at you."
"Fine," spat Sam infuriated with both his father and brother.
Dean went over to his brother and gingerly picked up Sam's arm, which caused Sam to wince in pain.
"Sorry, Buddy," he offered as he inspected the swollen wrist. He already knew by the way that Sam's shoulder was sitting that the shoulder was dislocated but he had been hoping that his wrist wouldn't be as badly injured. Looking at the damage, Dean was pretty sure it was broken too.
"Well, there's no question. I'm gonna have to take him to the hospital."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
When they first arrived at the hospital, the triage nurse had inspected Sam's injuries and had been more than a little concerned about the bruising on his neck. She had questioned them repeatedly, not really believing their story about a wrestling match gone wrong. But the boys had stuck steadfastly to their story, so in the end she had no reason to keep questioning them, although she did mark it on the chart.
After they had successfully dodged that bullet, the nurse had given Sam some sedatives to help him deal with the pain. The sedatives calmed Sam's nerves enough that he actually started speaking to his brother again. Dean was hoping they would prescribe some of those pills to his brother before they left, if for no other reason than to sedate his anger.
X-rays taken of Sam's shoulder and wrist proved Dean's assessment of both injuries correct and they had waited for a doctor had come and reset Sam's shoulder. After that, they had waited in the Plaster Room for a technician to put Sam's wrist in a cast.
It had been close to midnight by the time they left the hospital.
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Dean opened the door to the motel room and was surprised to see his father up and dressed. John was sitting at the small table beside the window loading his gun. He had a multitude of other weapons sitting on the table in front of him.
"What are you doing?" asked Dean as he came through the door with Sam following close behind.
"I'm going hunting."
"Dad, I don't think that's a good idea," responded Dean. "I don't think you're in any shape to hunt."
"Dean, I don't have to explain myself to you."
"Dad, you're hurt. You can't do this"
"And I can't not do this, or more people will get hurt."
"Well…this time, you're not going by yourself. I'm going with you."
"No, Dean," came the firm response.
"Dad," shot back Dean. "I'm not letting you go alone."
"No Dean," warned John. "I'm not letting you come with me."