Chapter 7

Sorry for the long wait :) I've been pretty busy and haven't had much time to type. But here's the next chapter, enjoy! :)

Dean tiredly watched Sam breath in and out slowly. It was eleven in the morning and he hadn't slept a wink. He was too afraid that if he fell asleep and woke up, it would have all been a dream; that Cas had never come and Sam was still dying. Around 5 am, the doctor had come to see what Dean had decided- not like he would have chosen to pull the plug anyways- but as soon as the doc saw his brother's vitals, he was baffled. Everything about his health had improved miraculously. Soon after, they, thankfully, removed the breathing tube, seeing that Sam's lung was fully repaired and strong as ever, Sam's breathing now was even and never-ending. The doctor presumed Sam would make a full recovery in a matter if days. This news lifted a huge weight off of Dean's chest. Now all he had to do was wait. Butt waiting for Sam to wake was agonizing…especially if he was starving. He had refused to eat anything until he knew Sam wasn't dying anymore. There were a bunch of leftover and untouched jello cups that had been meant for Sam. How stupid could they be? A few hours ago, they were sure he was going to die, but they gave him friggin' jello cups anyways? They were jerks! Anyhow, he figured Sam wouldn't be eating them anytime soon. Can't let good food go to waste, right?

Dean was in the middle of taking a bite from his seventh jello cup, when someone lightly rapped on the doorframe. He removed the spoon from his open mouth, leaving the jello unaffected, and placed it back into the cup before looking towards the door.

"Mr. Tucker? You have someone on the phone asking for you," said a small red-headed nurse.

"Who?"

"Officer Priest?"

Dean's heart leaped; this could be the thing he was desperately waiting for. "Okay, I'll be right there."

The red-head nodded curtly and left the doorway. Dean looked back at his peacefully sleeping brother and sighed. Grunting slightly, he stood up and squeezed Sam's shoulder assuring. "I'll be right back, kiddo. I'm just gonna be right outside the door, alright?" Dean quietly left Sam and went to the nurse's station where the same red-head nurse was holding a receiver in her hand. He flashed his award-winning smile at her and took it gratefully.

"Hello?"

"Dean Tucker? It's Adam Priest."

"Hey."

"How's your brother doing?"

"He's getting better. Should be waking up in a couple of hours, but I'd feel better if we caught the shit-faced jerk who did this and left him for dead."

"Well I guess today's your lucky day, then. We found traces of metal and paint on, what was left of, your car and matched it to a semi registered to a Ferdico Shipping Company, not far from your location."

A semi? Sam was hit by a friggin' truck? No wonder he had been dying. This new information made him both outraged and overjoyed all at once. He could finally get his hands wringed around the jerk-face's neck who almost killed his brother.

"Do you know who was driving that night?"

"No, but that's what we're going to find out. I'm heading to Ferdico now if you want to-"

"Yes…please," Dean said eagerly.

"Alrighty then. I'll be at the hospital in five minutes."

"Thanks." With that, Dean hung up the phone and sped back to Sam's room. "Don't worry, buddy, I'll be back soon. I'm gonna catch the guy who did this to you and he's gonna regret ever setting foot on earth." Dean snatched his coat, gently stroked Sam's hair for a moment and then quickly left the room.

By the time he got outside, Priest pulled up next to him. Dean hopped inside and looked forward in anticipation; his adrenaline was rising quickly and he was going to go outrageous once he saw who hit Sam.

"Here," Priest said, placing an object into Dean's lap.

The older brother looked down and saw that the man was handing him a gun.

"No thanks," Dean grinned, pulling out his own. "I'm all set."

Priest looked at him suspiciously, his eyebrows raised, but he didn't question.

"I'm not gonna ask why, but it's only for threatening purposes, alright?"

"Of course. I wouldn't kill him; maybe just injure or maim, but I won't kill him no matter how much he deserves it."

Priest smirked, looking once more at Dean before storing away the extra gun and started the cruiser. In a matter of seconds, they were out of the hospital parking lot and on their way to Ferdico.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Larry Franks was paranoid. He was so afraid that someone was gonna find out what he did. He was sitting- or more like quivering- in the wooden seat, which he found weirdly uncomfortable, in the small break room of Ferdico. His left leg was bouncing vigorously, running a sweaty palm through his hair and down his pale, wet face. He killed someone. You killed a kid. A couple of his buddies had asked why there was a huge dent in his bumper, and he'd lied, saying that he hit a moose. His breathing was unstable and rapid and he had a gut feeling that he was going to be caught soon. If he was, he was screwed. Larry groaned inwardly, his nervous eyes flicking around the room. He was the only one on break and, for once, he was glad for that. If anyone saw him like this, they were sure to know that something was up.

"Larry."

A gruff voice snapped him out of his panicking thoughts and looked up to see his manager standing in the doorway. He did not look happy.

"Y-yes?"

"There's some guys out front who wanna speak with ya 'bout your truck."

"Alright," Larry said, getting up and wiped his hands on his jeans.

"You, ah, you seem a little tense," his manager said, but it sounded like he knew something Larry didn't.

"I-I'm fine. Think I'm just comin' down with somethin'."

His manager didn't reply. He just, earlier, found out some disturbing information about his employee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SPN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5 Minutes earlier

Dean looked on as he and Priest were inspecting the truck that had hit Sam. Dean looked closely and saw little scratches or black paint from the Impala. Anger bubbled inside his stomach as he found more and more marks. This guy destroyed his car, possibly beyond repair, but more importantly, nearly killed Sam.

"Can I help you two fellas?" A man in his early 50's came up to them. He introduced himself as Mike Ledwell, the Ferdico manager.

"I'm Officer Adam Priest; I'm here on behalf of this truck and the dents inflicted on them."

"Larry just said he hit a moose. Nothin' to worry 'bout."

"Larry…"

"Franks. Larry Franks. He's the one who drives this truck.

"Have you ever seen paint on a moose before, Mike, because I'm pretty sure they have fur instead of metal," Dean blurted.

"What do you mean?"

"Look," said Priest, letting Mike by to look at the truck.

He leaned forward and looked more closely at the vehicle.

"Well I'll be a donkey's ass. You saying this was a hit and run?"

"Yes. Would it be possible to speak to Franks?"

"O-Of course. None of my workers will kill someone and get away with it," Mike said as he entered the building.

Dean winced at the manager's last comment. He had been a thread away from losing Sammy, and he never wanted to think about that ever again. Within minutes, he emerged back outside, but with a black haired man, looking terrified.

"He looks scared," said Priest, noticing Franks was wringing his hands together.

"He should be," Dean growled, glaring at Franks.

All of a sudden, the man began to bolt away from them, obviously knowing why they were there.

"Son of a bitch," muttered Priest as he was about to go after Larry.

"No," Dean said, putting a hand up to stop the policeman. "I got it."

Priest nodded and let Dean dart after the fleeing, cowardly man. Dean was glad they guy was running; it gave him more of a solid excuse for beating the shit out of him. In an instant, Dean caught up to Larry and he leaped into the air, landing roughly on the guy's back.

"You fuckin' bastard!" Dean shouted at the top of his lungs as he flipped Larry over. The man's hands were up in a defense stance, but Dean felt no sympathy, no mercy for this man. He immediately started throwing punches to every inch of Franks' face, leaving no area of skin clean.

"You son of a bitch! How could you leave my brother to die?"

Officer Priest stood behind Dean, watching as the kid, destroyed the man's face. Dean obviously had some experience in fighting. He winced every time he heard a *smash* or a *crack* or a *thump*; the sound of Dean's fist connecting with flesh and bone. Yet, he made no move to stop him…not yet.

"I-I'm s-sorry! I thought *crack* he was *smack* d-dead!"

"And you didn't fucking bother to call for help? What kind of *crunch* heartless *thump* jerk are you?" Dean stopped disfiguring Larry's face and he got off of the trembling man. He wiped his nose of his sleeve and glared down at the man. Without any warning to Franks, Dean lifted him from the collar and slammed him against the wall, the, already, injured man's ribs cracking under pressure. Dean heard this; it was extremely loud, but he didn't wince. Franks deserved this.

"If I ever see you again, ever, I. Will. Kill. You!" Dean snarled darkly. He released the quivering, bleeding man into the dirty ground and kicked him in the stomach.

"I-I'm so sorry, p-please, I s-sorry!" Cried Larry.

Dean looked down disgustingly at the pathetic man in front him. Without another word, he turned around towards the officer, who was looking at him in shock.

"Damn," he mouthed as Dean passed him.

"Dean sniffed, adrenaline pumping furiously through his veins. "Get him outta my sight."

"Will do." Priest walked up to Larry, who was now curled up in a ball, crying and apologizing. Priest, though, felt no sympathy. He didn't tell Dean this, but when his brother almost died in the plane crash, people thought he was dead and just left him there. He was so pissed when he found out and wanted nothing more than to punch the snot out of everyone who didn't give a fuck. "Get up," he spat, clicking the handcuffs on tightly and dragging Larry to his feet. He called for his partner to come pick him up; because he knew Dean wanted to get back to Sam.

Dean sat quietly in the passenger seat, seething with anger and adrenaline. His trembling blood caked his hands and his jacket sleeves, both from Larry and his own broken skin. What he had done felt so good and Sammy would be happy to know that Franks would be hurting for a very long time. Within ten minutes, Priest's partner came and took the injured man away. At first he looked questioningly at the bleeding criminal then to Dean and then back to Priest. The leading officer just shook his head, indicating not to bother with inquiries. His partner shrugged and stuffed Franks into the car and drove out of sight.

Priest, then, got into his own cruiser and slammed the door shut. He looked at Dean warily as they sat in utter silence.

"You okay?"

Dean didn't say anything for a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking.

"I am now."

"Good. Let's go tell your brother the good news. He probably awake by now, no doubt."

"Yeah…hopefully."

And hopefully Sam remembered who he was and what era he was in.

Officer Priest seems like a pretty chill guy, huh? Wish every cop was like that haha! Comments! :)))) Next chapter to be up soon! Oh and if anything doesn't make since, I apologize cause I'm just really tired.