Ahhh I missed someone! So sorry about that, I must of misplaced your message :( Also a reminder to everyone - it I don't reply to your message and/or write your request, then I have MISSED IT somehow, so please remind me! I will never ignore you, I promise. So without further ado, here is the request from 'DeansSammy', who had a nice, interesting - and angsty! - idea. Here you go, and sorry again that I missed your message.

Season: Uhh let's say Season Two (because there are so many later season ideas at the moment!) in the space of *2x10-17*

Characters/Themes: Sam, Dean; hospital, hurt/comfort, angst, arguments, car crash, blame (yeah you can tell this is gonna be super angsty)

Request: from 'DeansSammy' - "both going on a hunt, Sam Messing upand beig hurt,Dean being angry with him and shouting not watching traffic,having an accident,Sam getting more hurt,not waking up for a few days,Dean blaming himself,Sam waking up saying Sorry for Messing up and causing the accident. Dean being really shocked about that."

Hunting, as a general rule, was an everyday life-and-death situation. And include Winchester Luck in that, then there's basically a recipe for disaster. Disasters which, of course, usually happen.

So when Dean declared that they were going to hunt the most recent fugly that they were tracking the same night they just rolled into town, Sam stared at him, across the motel room, in disdain.

"Dean, you know we can't. We know nothing about the creature; it could be anything!" The younger Winchester pointed out, not all pleased with his brother's 'bright' idea. He knew that Dean felt he had to hunt, to let off steam - after the whole event with Ava and traces of the Demon, they were both restless.

Huffing, Dean barely spared his brother a glance as he packed their weapons in the bag. "Yes we can. It can't be anything more than a werewolf; the vic's bodies were ripped open," he replied logically.

This was true, but it didn't make Sam feel any better about going into a hunt completely unprepared. That went against every rule for hunters that had ever existed.

"The point being, we cannot just charge into the forest and expect the thing to come out at us so we can conviniently shoot it," Sam argued back. "We'll get hurt, or even killed!"

That point did actually stop Dean for a second, but then he shrugged and carried on, replying, "it'll be fine. Just shoot it and it's dead, end of."

He finished packing the weapons and slung the bag over a shoulder, walking towards the door. He glanced back, eyebrows raised. "Well, you don't have to come."

Sam glared at the idiot that was his brother. Dean knew that Sam wouldn't let him go on an unprepared hunt alone. If they were going to be stupid, they'd have to go down together. There was no other way.

So, although he really didn't like the idea, and strongly disagreed with Dean's correct but rather pathetic reasoning, Sam huffed and stood up, grabbing his jacket and the motel room key, and sullenly following his brother out of the door to the Impala.

Dean dropped the bag into the trunk and closed it before going around to the driver's side and getting in, waiting expectantly for Sam to enter the other side. Once both ready, Dean started the engine and tried to ignore his brother, who was looking out the window, sulking.

He sighed. It was no use. He could never ignore a sulky Sam. "Dude, it'll be fine. Worse that'll happen is we won't find it, and we'll just have to actually do some research and come back."

That just got his a bitchface for all his troubles, and Dean shrugged and focused on the road again. He'd tried.

They traveled in silence for about ten minutes before Sam muttered in reply, "you mean, I would have to research."

Dean smirked at his little brother's lame comeback and revved the engine.

About half an hour later, they arrived at their destination; a twilight-lit forest at the edge of a city. Pretty much a perfect place for a monster lair.

Despite not wanting to hunt, Sam immediately got into a correct frame of mind, getting out of the car as Dean did and joining his brother at the truck to accept his weapons. But he also tried to reason with Dean again.

"Come on, man, this isn't going to go well," he sighed, eyeing the forest apprehensively.

Dean rolled his eyes. "If you stopped bitching, it might go a bit better," he replied sweetly, rather roughly handing Sam his gun. All he got was another bitchface in return as Sam huffed and turned his back on Dean.

They shut the trunk and headed off, automatically listening out and watching each other's backs. At a growl close by, when they were about five minutes in, Sam and Dean looked at each other and with a silent nod, agreed to split up.

Perhaps it was then that they should of realised that splitting up for any reason was never a good idea. And definitely not when the enemy is not known.

Sam had already pointed out the danger of the hunt, due to an unknown monster and now they didn't even have each other in their sights. That meant that when Sam was silently jumped, Dean - looking through some trees out of ear shot away - did not know a thing.

Luckily, even though he didn't want to be on the hunt, Sam Winchester was a trained hunter, and trained by the best. On a good day, the monster didn't stand a chance against either of the Winchesters alone, and there was nothing to be said for going up against both of them together.

So the second that a vampire, no less - not a werewolf must remember to kick Dean's ass later - jumped on the younger Winchester and immediately tried to bite him, Sam quickly threw the monster off his back and pointed his silver bullet charged gun at it.

Mentally facepalming for not thinking of bringing a machete as well, Sam hesitated, knowing he couldn't really do much with the gun. It would kill and werewolf but not do more than stun a vampire. Just frigging great.

He looked around just for a second, and that was all the monster needed.

It jumped up off the ground and at Sam again, and this time the hunter was more disorientated, and the vampire managed to latch its teeth onto his throat, bringing them crashing to the ground as Sam tried unsuccessfully to throw the monster off him again.

Eventually he succeeded in punching the vampire in the face, and it hissed and backed off slightly, licking its bloody lips. Sam clapped a hand to his neck and grunted at the pain there. Dizziness made itself known as he slowly stood up, gun pointed at the monster.

Stumbling slightly, Sam tried to hold the gun straight and get his thoughts together about what to do next. But the only coherent thought he could process though his rapidly numbing mind was at least this was a quick hunt. Didn't even have to lure it out.

Dean was gonna be mad though. Maybe not mad at Sam - for once, though that wasn't really a possibility - but mad in general that they had split up, that he was wrong, that Sam had got himself hurt again because he wasn't focusing enough.

That just kind of sucked, to be honest; Sam didn't want to keep on about it, but when -

BAM. The vampire easily sensed a wavering prey and pounced again. This time, Sam lay there for a minute, feeling the thing suck at his neck and drain his ability to think clearly away.

Hunter's instincts kicked in and Sam tried to kick the vamp away. He barely succeeded, and now there was another one above him, and then the one on top of him screamed and its headless body fell beside him and wait what...

Sam blinked up at Dean, who was panting a little and glaring a lot. At Sam. He was pissed, then. Go figure.

Trying to gather his thoughts and keep them straight, Sam slowly rolled over slightly and pushed himself up, trying to carefully not stumble. Dean didn't need to know that he had managed to get himself hurt as well, dammit.

Dean continued to glare at his brother. Of course, he had thought to bring his machete. Sam had turned his back and so Dean had not given his to him. Although at this moment in time, Sam could hardly remember why he was making a fuss about a knife anyway. What on earth would he need a knife for?

"For God's sake, Sam, focus on the goddammit case! If you're going to come hunting with me, I expect you to actually watch what you're doing, and be properly equipped!"

Sam blinked. Apparently he and Dean were walking back through the forest to the car. Since when did that happen? Dean was on ahead, ranting about something or other and hunting and other stuff that Sam could barely understand. Trailing behind, Sam tripped and stumbled, walking in a daze.

"Next time, be honest; if you don't want to go on the hunt, then don't go! I'd rather I left your alive, sulky, ass back in a hotel room, than have to find you bled dry out here because you couldn't be freaking bothered to pay attention to the weapons you need for general hunting."

Well, in all honesty, Sam really had no idea what his brother was going on about now. He had the vague feeling that he had hit his head actually, maybe on a rock, and his neck ached for some reason. Maybe he'd cricked it. That sometimes happens when being thrown to the ground.

Sam blinked again. They were back at their car. It was nice; the car, that was, not the man shouting. In fact, Sam wasn't even sure if Dean was still talking. He couldn't hear him anyway.

Dean got into the car and Sam copied him, unsure of what else to do. He watched out the window as they drew away from the forest. Wait, there was a forest? Since when?

Shaking his head a little, making it pound and throb a more, Sam tried to figure out what had happened. All he knew was pain and confusion that came with blood loss. He was pretty sure there was a hunt in there somewhere though. Maybe a monster hunt. At least, that was what they were meant to be doing.

"In general, Sam - in general! Especially if you don't know what you're up against! You always take what you could need - knife, gun and holy water or salt! That's simple stuff!"

Sam blinked slowly at Dean. It was like he was shouting, but it didn't sound very clear. Almost underwater-like. Meanwhile, Dean was concentrating 70-30 on glaring at Sam than looking at the road.

That didn't really seem like the greatest idea, but Dean usually knew what he was doing.

After all, he wasn't the one that had managed to get attacked by and vampire and bitten and sucked blood from. Oh yeah, that had happened. Perhaps maybe that was where the confusion had come from then...

There was a jolt in the car. As in slow motion, Sam raised his head to look out the front window. He heard Dean swear in surprise and the car tilted. They swerved to avoid the lorry that was blaring its horn.

But they didn't stop swerving. And crashed into a tree.

Of all things... in fact, that could probably sum up everything wrong in the day. Something about a hunt, Sam supposed, as that was what they were - hunters. Good job, now he thought about it.

Anyway, he didn't really care about trees any more, because he was very tired. He could just sleep for a moment. Just a moment. Maybe his cloudy head would be able to think better in the morning.

"Sam? Sammy! Don't you dare pass out on me, man, I swear - that wasn't even that bad, okay, right? What's wrong? Sam!"

Hm, that sounded kind of urgent. It kept Sam from sleeping for a moment though, so he wasn't particularly impressed. Plus wasn't that the same voice that had just been ranting at or to him for the past ten minutes...?

A hand tilted his face, but the touch was gentle. Blurry, through barely open eyes, Sam could see him. The, uh, other person in the car. Right. Yeah, that man. The one who saved him? The one who was shouting?

Though he looked kind of worried now. In fact, almost panicked. Vaguely, Sam wondered what he was thinking about. Sam was quite peaceful in his thoughts. It was nice actually.

So he wasn't pleased when the same person shook him slightly. Jeez, couldn't this man chill out? Sam was tired, he wanted to sleep. Sleep was good.

Ow. The person had found the wound on his neck. It hurt, anyway, so it was probably a cut of some kind. It seemed to concern the man, though, because his eyes widened in horror as he realised something. Sam still didn't really care. He closed his eyes, hoping for some rest.

"Dammit - dammit Sammy! Hang on, hang on, shh, it's okay, but please don't go to sleep, you have to stay awake... I just gotta call an ambulance... shoulda listened to you... I'm sorry, Sam... Shit! Don't go to sleep!"

The Voice got quickly more urgent, and Sam was shaken again, this time more forcefully. The man was talking now, but not to Sam, he assumed, because this talk was quiet and panicked. No, the man liked to shout at Sam.

Well, that was okay. After all, it was all Sam's fault one way or another.

He fell into darkness despite Dean's pleas and Sam knew no more; not the sirens approaching or his brother's frantic fear.

Sam sighed. He was someplace warm. Soft. Clean, too; he could smell some kind of... antiseptic? Hm, made a change from the forest.

Wait - antiseptic? The forest?

Dean.

With that one thought that overrode everything, Sam's eyes flew open and he began to struggle up. Almost immediately a hand was planted firmly on his chest, forcing him back down.

He could hear his brother talking, though his eyes had fallen closed again somehow. He listened to Dean's voice and immediately calmed.

"Wow! Sammy, shh, calm down." A hand briefly but very gently brushed back his fringe. "Just take it easy. I'm here."

Of course Dean was there. Still, that didn't change the fact that it was all Sam's fault. He should of stopped his brother, not gone with him. Dammit, Sam, he remembered.

No, but wait. That was twice. The first time, in anger, yes. A hunt gone wrong, as usual. Not enough intel, too little focus. Sam's fault. He was the one that got jumped. And therefore left his brother unprotected. Just because he wasn't paying attention.

But the second time... yes, the second time was in panic. Urgency.

"You ready to slowly sit up now, Sam?" Dean's voice. It represented calm, and everything right.

Sam nodded a tiny bit, knowing better than to try it himself. He had an amazing older brother who would take care of it. Of course he would. Dean would take care of anything. Sam just wished sometimes that Dean would realise that he'd do anything for his older brother too.

Sure enough, Dean carefully helped Sam into a sitting position on the bed that he realised he was in. A hospital, of course.

"You wanna open your eyes now?" Gentle, so quiet. "Sam, look at me." A little more commanding, but still sacredly quiet. A tough, hard hunter on the outside; with Sam, Dean was more gentle than a mother.

Sam didn't really want to open his eyes, because he was still fuzzy and his head hurt, now he thought of it. But Dean had asked. So he slowly blinked open his eyes.

Of course, Dean was there. He was sitting beside Sam's bed, traditionally unshaven and unkempt. His eyes showed relief and guilt and quenched fear. Hidden for the safety and protection of his little brother.

"Hey," he smiled, heartfelt relief in his voice. Now his brother was awake, he could handle the rest.

After a moment, Sam frowned slightly, and closed and opened his eyes again, trying to sort out his vision. He looked around the room a little; it was just a normal hospital single room, small and clinical. Not Intensive Care or anything major. That was good.

His gaze traveled back to Dean, who smiled again at his little brother encouragingly.

"What was wrong?" Sam murmured, not completely sure about the use of speaking. Then, as an afterthought, added a better question; "when should we leave?"

Dean quirked a small smile that meant dammit Sam, look after yourself for once. But he answered Sam's questions anyway, because the information was important. Not to remember - Dean never wanted to remember Sam being in hospital or hurt in any way whatsoever (but he always did, of course) - but because he had the right to know what happened.

"Didn't tell me you were bit, Sammy," Dean replied, leaning back a little and watching Sam prop himself up on his elbow instead so he could stay sitting up and watch Dean. Like it was the most important thing in his life. And damn right it was.

Sam blinked. He remembered. "Oh." After a pause, he added, "didn't want to make things worse."

Huffing a humorous laugh, Dean eyed his little brother. Sam seemed quite responsive now, so hopefully they could sneak out soon.

"Well, that meant pretty bad blood loss for one Sam Winchester. Think you lost that match there," Dean replied, trying as usual to lighten the events.

Sam hummed a response, wanting - well, needing - to hear the rest of the story. If he ended up in hospital, then it had to be bad. Winchesters didn't use hospitals except for emergencies. It was just that, unfortunately, hunting meant lots of emergencies.

"Anyway, and then it didn't help that I was kind of not focusing on the road so uhh..." Dean winced at what he was about to say. "Um, I crashed the car." He sighed in defeat, and met Sam's surprised look. "I mean, it's not too bad. We'll have to go to Bobby's anyway to fix it up, it's just as well you can rest up too," he added slightly defensively.

Sam smiled a little. Of course they were going to take some off time now.

"So, uh, it wasn't too bad - think we kinda bashed the tree in though - but apparently it, uh, was enough to uh shock your body into emergency-shut-down mode."

Wincing, Sam nodded. Yeah, that made sense.

Dean sighed. "Well, I panicked because I couldn't even figure out what was wrong at first - I mean," he added hastily, "I should of noticed before we got in the car and went driving."

No surprises there. Dean was blaming himself again. So before he could go any further, Sam interrupted.

"It was my fault, though."

That just earned him an exasperated look from a burnt out big brother. But Sam didn't let Dean correct him.

"I mean, I was being a bit of a dick. And I wasn't organised. Or particularly focused. And in conclusion," he continued before Dean could cut him off, "I shouldn't of just let you go ahead with the hunt."

Dean blinked at him.

Sam stared back with a confused expression.

"Dude, do I need to throw holy water in your face?"

And, finally, both Winchesters honest-to-God chuckled quietly, to each other, and because of each other.

"Oh, and, clearly you're fine, princess smart-ass," Dean told Sam with a smirk. "So we're busting out tonight. Hate this stinking place anyway." He wrinkled his nose and looked around the room disdainfully.

Sam chuckled to himself and moved his left arm, wincing as he felt a couple of drip needles, one - no doubt after what Dean had told him - probably blood, pull at the movement. Dean watched him, eyes narrowed, ready to help if needed. Sam knew that when he said that he hated the place... he meant when he was sitting, worried to death, at his little brother's bedside.

And, coincidentally enough, that was exactly why Sam hated hospitals too. The waiting game was the most miserable and intense - and dreaded - in their family.

But, sooner or later the other woke up, and they would bust out of hospital at night, because they knew once the urgency had past, that they could take care of it themselves, in some motel, or sometimes just on the road.

Their life was one of hunts and injuries and panic, but at least they had each other. Often, that was all they needed.