Hey guys! Sorry about the lateness of the hour (though I suppose it's really early in the mornign for some of you!) I've had a majorly busy day!

The title of the chapter comes from the song by Rufus Wainwright and no, I don't own it.

Also, there's an online pole thing going about what TV show will be most popular Friday night show for various times. Supernatural has been nominated for the 9 o'clock slot but sadly, last I checked it's losing by just a bit to Fringe! Go take it and show that snooty author (who clearly does not like SPN based on his comment about J&J) what for!
http(colon)(slash)(slash)www(dot)tvline(dot)com(slash)2011(slash)09(slash)fall-tv-poll-what-will-you-watch-friday(slash)

Warnings: Bullying, self-harm, swearing
Disclaimer: See chap 1
Beta: Little Miss Artist
Word Count: 2,000
Chapter: 17/21
Next Update: Thursday

Enjoy!

Textus

Chapter 17: A Broken Hallelujah

Dr. Larrow was a doctor probably in his forties with a friendly face and warm smile. He had brown hair that had a few bits of grey in it and was the type of hair that was just naturally messy looking. He wasn't tall, but he wasn't short, just like he wasn't fat but he wasn't skinny. He was just an average guy.

He knocked on Sam and Dean's door before entering and then genuinely smiled at them both. Sam wasn't sure why but he liked this guy, almost to the point of trusting him. He seemed…fatherly. He most likely had at least one child, probably a son.

"Well it's good to see you two are awake." Sam gave a small nod. "You must be Sam? "the doctor asked. Some of the confusion must have shown on Sam's face because the doctor added, "We found your school ID in your pocket."

"So what's the diagnosis?" Dean asked, impatient to know when he could leave. Sam recognized it in Dean as that was exactly what he was feeling, though he was too polite to be rude to a stranger like that. It was just a general rule, Winchesters and hospitals didn't mix.

"Well, both of you have minor concussions. Dean, you received three stitches to your head while, Sam, you got four. Pretty basic stuff. I can prescribe you some medication for the headache you'll have for a bit and then you're free to go, just so long as you make sure to get some rest."

"So we can go?" Dean clarified while he sat up and slowly swung his feet over the edge of the bed. A slightly troubled look crossed the doctor's face that made Sam feel slightly nervous.

"I'll give you the prescription in a little bit then you're free to go, but first I need to talk to Sam. Dean, if you'd be so kind as to wait in the hall?" Dean shot a look at Sam that clearly said what-the-hell. Sam didn't know what the doctor was talking about either, but if he thought Dean should leave then it couldn't be good.

"Anything you have to say to my brother, you can say in front of me," Dean said with conviction.

"I'll leave that decision up to Sam. Would you like your brother to stay or go?" Sam was torn. If it was something that serious, then maybe Dean should go so Sam could have some time to absorb the information before facing Dean. But then again, if it was something that serious, Sam might want Dean to be there to provide moral support. Sam was about to run his hand through his hair, a nervous habit, when it hit him.

His arm! The scars! Surely someone would have noticed the self-inflicted scars! It was wonder he wasn't already locked up in the psych ward.

Dean would be told, he had no doubt, but perhaps it'd be easier if he didn't find out while Sam was right there. That would give both Sam and Dean time to collect their thoughts before they had to face each other.

"Um, Dean, could you please wait in the hall?" Sam asked quietly, wanting to just disappear. He didn't want to have this conversation, especially not with some stranger. He'd spent far too much time constructing his web of lies to have it all be ruined by a stupid car crash and a nosy doctor.

Ignoring the hurt and worried look on Dean's face, Sam looked directly at the doctor. In the background, Dean slipped out the door and it clicked quietly behind him. Dr. Larrow took a seat on the now vacated bed next to Sam.

"So, Sam, how are you feeling?" he asked casually like they were old friends who hadn't seen each other in a while. Sam wished he'd look away. The doctor's piercing blue eyes made Sam feel like he was being x-rayed.

"Fine," he said lightly. He wasn't going to spill his guts to some random doctor. Dr. Larrow was completely undeterred and continued on, either oblivious or willingly ignoring Sam's obvious hesitancy to have the conversation.

"I take it you've figured out why we're having this conversation?"

Dr. Larrow confused Sam. There was a smile on his face, but it didn't seem fake, despite the serious conversation topic. He was both professional and casual at the same time and he seemed to truly care. But that was absolutely ludicrous. Why would he care about Sam? Why would anyone care about Sam?

Sam nodded just in case the doctor wasn't actually talking about his arms. No need to give himself away if it was something else entirely. It was a small ray of hope perhaps, but Sam clung to it desperately.

"We actually have several things I need to discuss with you. Let's start with the marks on your arms which are obviously self-inflicted…" Consider that ray extinguished.

"Would you mind telling me why you did that?" the doctor prompted when Sam didn't offer up any information.

"Aren't you supposed to call in a therapist or something?" Sam questioned. If he could get the doctor to leave to get a therapist, Sam could bolt with Dean.

"Technically yes, but I need to discuss some other injuries with you that I think might be connected so I thought I'd give it a try while I was here."

"Other injuries?" Of course, how had he possibly thought they wouldn't notice the half healed rib and the still somewhat visible bruises?

"You have a hairline fracture in your seventh rib down on the left side. The seventh rib and the tenth rib are most commonly fractured by sometime of direct blow…" he trailed off, clearly expecting Sam to provide an explanation.

"I got into a fight."

"I assumed as much based on the light bruising on your chest as well. This fight happened a couple days ago correct?"

"Last Friday."

"And did you tell your family you were injured?" Sam hesitated. He was trapped. When Sam had first been brought in, they would have looked up his records to see for recent injuries, especially for something like a broken rib which could have been jarred in the crash and caused more serious damage. If Sam said yes, he had told his dad, the doctor would wonder why his dad hadn't brought him in and then Dr. Larrow might come to the wrong conclusions, perhaps thinking John was an irresponsible parent. But if Sam said no, that would also bring up questions as to why. Most children would tell their parents if they were injured to the extent of a broken bone. The doctor was good, Sam had to give him that. He'd made Sam agree to knowing about the rib, unknowingly cornering himself.

Clearly Sam's hesitation was enough for Dr. Larrow to make his own conclusions as he asked, "and why not?"

"I didn't want to get into trouble." Sam knew he'd screwed up. He'd said it too quickly, rushing to explain, an obvious sign of a lie.

"Uh huh, and who did you get into a fight with?"

"Just another kid."

"Did you start it?" Sam had had enough.

"Look," he shouted as he leapt to his feet, "none of this matters. Yes, I got into a fight with another kid. Yes, I self-harmed. No, I didn't tell my family. And none of it is any of your damn business. I don't know why you act like you care, but stop it. Now I do believe you mentioned a prescription for headaches, so why don't you just give that to my brother and ship me off to the psych ward or whatever so I can get on with my life."

Dr. Larrow didn't look very surprised but there was pity in his eyes which made Sam want to smack him. Sam didn't need pity. He wasn't some defenseless little kid.

The doctor slowly got to his feet looking like he'd aged a couple of years just sitting there.

"We've called your father, he should be here soon. Once he gets here, I'll inform him and your brother of the situation at the same time and let your father decided whether he'd like to set up an appointment with the hospital's counselor or a personal one. Until then, I want you to stay here. I'll send your brother in."

"Wait!" Sam called. "Are you going to-"

"As a doctor it is my job to tell them of your injuries, all of them," he added as Sam began to protest, "it is not, however, my job to inform them of where they came from." Sam wasn't stupid and he knew the doctor wasn't either. He had surely figured out that Sam hadn't willingly participated in the 'fight' that had resulted in a broken rib. But he was going to leave it up to Sam to explain the how and why behind his injuries.

Sam glared at the man's back as he left the room then fell back onto the bed. He stretched out and waited for Dean to come in. The door opened shortly after and Dean came in, still wearing a confused expression.

"What was that about? I could swear I could hear shouting coming from in here."

"You'll find out when Dad gets here," Sam said, sounding somewhat ominous.

"Okay," Dean said slowly. He walked up to the bed and looked over Sam as though Dean was a doctor and Sam was his patient.

"How bad is it, Doc?" Sam asked, sound fake frightened.

"With some hard work and intense care, you may pull through yet, Son," Dean said seriously. After a minute they both just burst out laughing. It felt natural to Sam, laughing with his brother. It was like jumping back a few weeks to when things were simpler.

They laughed for almost ten minutes straight. When one of them finally managed to recover, they'd take one look at the other one and start laughing all over again. It was contagious.

"Scoot over," Dean said once he sobered up a bit. After Sam complied, Dean laid down next to him and tucked his hands behind his head. Sam was once again looking at the ceiling and Dean followed his gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Dean's eyebrows furrow thoughtfully.

"They could seriously use a more interesting looking roof, huh?"

TBC...

Review Replies:

Cartoon Cow: Unfortunately I can't tell you, though it'll come out soon enough, just hang on!

jennytork: Lol, oh yeah! Well, I'm glad, it's nice to know my writing can get a physical response from some people.

D767468: Perhaps it's the dog, perhaps not, unfortunately I can't tell you, but it'll be revealed soon enough. One more level of angst ;) No prob about the anonymous!

TinTin11: Nice to know you have such high expectations for my chapters! I certainly hope they all deliver!

Nyx Ro: I know right? Makes you realize just how bad things were getting, huh? Yes, Sammy will be 'lifted'

Judyann: yay! Curveball! Yup, finally the big brother shines through! Yeah, I figured Sammy kinda deserves a break by now, so I think I'll refrain from torturing him too greatly anymore. Not to say there won't be a few angst fests…

Supernaturalrenegade: I totally know what you mean. I hate that stupid security word, sometimes I just can't tell! You're barking up the right tree on the refrence, you'll see for sure in one of the last chapters. Hopefully this chapter answered some of those questions!

LisaRosa: I know! I've thought about that so much! And then I always wonder if it's just me and they're actually there because in some stories they do have seatbelts and others not, so I tried to kind of leave it open for interpretation but I agree that you never SEE seatbelts on the show.

Hummingfox: Indeed :)

Alex Karr: Thank you for picking up on the scary reality of a situation like this! Once you start it's hard to stop! Thanks!

OutTonightAndForever: Don't worry about not reviewing, it happens. I love curveballs!

Fledgingfeathers: I'm with you all the way so don't feel bad for liking hurt Sammy. I think it's really just the chick flick moments that come after that we all love really. He is a jerkwad!

Sparkiebunny, sarah, Tripoli, Twi-girl 56: Thanks!