Author's Note: Happy New Year! I hope 2016 will give us more awesome brotherly feels and hurt!Sam! I wish you guys all the best in the coming year.

Today's prompt comes from lenail125 who requested, "How about when Sam gets hurt for the first time in a hunt as a teenager? Dean wasn't with him when got hurt because Sam was with John and Dean was checking another part of the perimeter of place they were hunting. And when Sam gets hurt he only wants his brother, meanwhile John is trying to calm him down, but that only happens when Dean arrives like he always does! I like fluff and platonic cuddle with the brothers!" I love fluff and cuddles too! I don't think I've gotten to write anything with John for this entire collection so this is a wonderful change of pace. Thank you for the prompt! Let's set this when Sam is 13. Please enjoy!

"When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them."

― Lemony Snicket

This is supposed to be an easy hunt.

It's Christmas Eve, after all, and John only picked this hunt on this night because he'd been sure it was a sure thing. Now though, as he tries to curb the huge amount of blood leaving Sam's shoulder, he wonders if maybe they should've stayed in tonight.

Sam is whimpering, doing his best not to cry. He's thirteen now, John knows, and he's in that awkward stage where he's not quite a boy but not quite a man. When he was little, Sam would cry at the drop of a hat. Expressive, Mary called him, more in tune with his emotions than Dean would ever be.

"It's okay, Sammy." John tries to soothe him in a gruff voice as he applies more pressure to the wound, as he does his best to ignore his son's anguished cry as the pain courses through his system, and as he tries not to let panic consume him.

After all, Sam could be bleeding out right before him.

And that terrifies John.

He's been called a lot of things—absentee father by the schools he sends his sons to, a bastard by the hunting community, even a jerk on a few occasions when Sam has lost his temper—but he's never considered himself a bad dad. He loves his sons—loves them more than life itself—and though he chose this life for them, he never considered the fact that it might take them from him. He'd just always assumed that he would die first and not Sam or Dean. In hindsight, he knows that's a foolish assumption.

Even so, John didn't start hunting to watch his youngest bleed out against the dirty wall of a haunted mansion.

"Dad," Sam whimpers, his eyes rimmed with tears and it nearly breaks the gruff hunter's heart. "Hurts."

"I know," John manages a shaky smile, trying to keep Sam in the dark about how bad the wound is, but his youngest is smart. Even through the fog of blood loss, he's already done the math. "We're going to get you out of here, get you patched up—"

Sam isn't buying it though.

His whimpers turn into full on sobs and John cringes as his son moves his shoulder, causing more blood to well up.

"Hold still, Sammy." John presses harder on it, forces himself to stay still and focus on one thing at a time.

How did things get so fucked up?

They'd done the research, showed up and vanquished the ghost only for her to get one last kick of energy, enough to throw an antique dagger into his son's shoulder. Then, as she was fading away, the bitch had waved her hand and removed it.

Hence, all the blood.

"Dean." Sam's skin is starting to become ashen in color and clammy to the touch, both hallmark signs of shock. His eyes keep fluttering and it's taking him longer for them to open.

"He's coming," John tries to assure his youngest. "He's coming, Sammy."

"M'scared." Sam's gaze meets his and for a second, it feels like the whole world fades away.

The mysterious demon that killed his wife isn't worth tracking.

The fact that his heart aches every day for his wife doesn't matter.

Sam, in pain, dying before him, is what matters. His whole world is condensed into those soulful hazel eyes looking up at him, clouded by tears.

"D'n." Sam's syllables collide together, distorting his words but John catches their meaning.

"He's getting the car, Sam," John tells him softly. "He'll be here."

Immediately after Sam went down, John had barked at his older son to check the perimeter and then fetch the car. Dean had, after a few moments, complied with the orders, allowing instinct to take charge instead of fear.

But now—

No, John can't think that way.

Sam will get help.

Sam will live.

He has to.

Sam's eyes flutter close and immediately, his body goes lax.

"Damn it, Sam," John curses, gritting his teeth as he prepares for what he has to do. He jabs a fist into Sam's wound and the pain instantly jolts the youngest Winchester back to awareness. "Easy, breathe, okay? No going to sleep just yet—"

But Sam is too out of it and panicked to listen. He begins to try and push himself away from the wall, aggravating his wound.

"Sam, no," John tries to order him, holding him still. "You can't move just yet, okay?"

"Dean!" Sam cries, sobbing now and John pulls his youngest to him and holds him, trying to be somewhat of the parent that he had hoped to be when Mary had announced she was pregnant again.

Funny, back then; he had so many hopes and dreams for his sons. For Sam, he wanted his boy to grow up and go to college and become some hotshot lawyer or a doctor. Something noble, like that. Dean, on the other hand, he knew Dean could be a great mechanic or even a sports star. But now, neither of them would become those things because of choices he had made for them.

And now, they are both destined to hunt.

What kind of legacy is that to leave to your children?

"I'm so sorry." John whispers, but he knows his son can't hear him over his own sobbing. So, John does what he can do—just holds his crying son and hopes for help.

"Sammy!"

"Dean!"

Immediately, John relinquishes his hold as Sam reaches for his older brother. Instantly, Sam is breathing better, as if just the touch of his older brother is a magic band-aid, healing almost everything.

"It's okay, Sam," Dean assures him. "Hold on, we're going to get you fixed up. Then, tell you what? I'll even let you watch those girly Lifetime movies you like when we get back to the motel."

"Kay." Sam whispers, allowing himself to be picked up and held by his brother.

"I've got you." Dean whispers and John finds himself taking the car keys and following Dean out the door.

Sam will go to the hospital and he'll get pumped with blood and some stiches. Dean won't leave his baby brother's side. The bond the two of them have . . . it's something that John can't quite describe.

John just can't compete.

So, maybe he's failed as a father. Maybe it's not too late to fix things. Who knows really?

But right now, watching Dean secure his brother in the back seat, John knows that all those two need in the world is each other.

Not John.

Never John.

"Okay," He gets into the driver's seat, glancing in the rearview mirror, seeing Sam's head in Dean's lap. "Let's go."

Author's Note: I know a lot of people hate John. I find him a tragic character. I mean, he lost out on being a father to two sons because of some misguided choices he made. I think that's kind of what I wanted to convey in this chapter. Sorry if it was too much of a downer! Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!