Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kirpke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure.

Synopsis: Set at the start of Season One, Dean had been in a wheelchair since his father disappeared more than a year ago and he finally has to tell Sam… There'd been an accident that night and Dean had paid a very high price….one he still doesn't understand. The story will have some hunts from season one and possibly into season two…the brothers will continue their search for their father…there will be alterations to the hunts to accommodate Dean's new situation. I have every intention of returning Dean to good health before this ends…but getting there is going to be bumpy.

Please keep in mind that I do not have a Beta, so all grammatical errors are my own. Not Slash. Brotherly love and Angst only…

Please Review: So I know there's interest

Chapter 1:

The Missed Call

Dean rolled the wheelchair around the old motel bed, before dropping his head onto his chest in frustration, exhaling his irritation he noticed that the space between the table and the bed wasn't wide enough for him to roll through. He felt the familiar anger rushing to the surface, just like it did every time he found something else that he couldn't do.

And yet he knew that he had waited as long as he possible could to make this call. Dean had run out of money and his rage could only take him so far. He had finally been reduced to a place where he had to make the hardest phone call he'd ever had to make. Sam, he was going to have to call his brother; the same little brother that had abandoned, or run out on, them almost 4 years ago.

Sam had walked away from him, from their family. He had left Dean standing in the doorway of an old motel in the middle of nowhere USA. He had watched his little brother anticipating a turn that had never come. The argument between his brother and their father had been vicious on that particular June night and Dean had been unwillingly drawn into it. He had done his best to try and not take sides. But his father had blamed him the moment Sam was gone and that had led to more arguments between them before his father essentially told him that he was worthless. If he had been a better big brother Sam wouldn't have left. It hadn't taken long for his father to take the verbal abuse to the next level. His father's increasing alcohol use hadn't helped. Over the last three years Dean had suffered at the hands of his father's wrath; and all of it was because of the loss of the youngest Winchester. He had done everything possible to alleviate his father's disappointment, but it had never been enough. He had never been enoughand now he had the faded bruises and healed broken bones to prove it.

His green eyes flicked back and forth between his duffel bag and the cell phone lying on the ugly green and red flowered bed spread. Inhaling he pressed his lips together before reaching out and then immediately pulling his hand back.

"Please answer this time Sammy." He begged quietly. He didn't know who he was asking or why it mattered, but for some reason he felt like it did.

Dean had tried to call his little brother after the accident. Hah! Accident, he still didn't know exactly what had happened that night. But, par for the course, Sam had ignored the first call, and back then and Dean had been just angry and bitter enough to choose not to leave a message. He hadn't talked to his little brother in almost four years as a result.

Glancing down, his eyebrows furrowed in disgust. He'd been in this damned chair for nearly a year. At first it had been almost impossible for him to do anything, but he had found ways to cope. Despite his better judgement, he was still hopeful that this was something that this was something that could be fixed. Maybe there was a supernatural potion or something? One he just hadn't found it yet.

Dean was pretty sure that his accident was the reason that his father had finally disappeared a year ago. I really hoped that that is what dad is working on.

There was a better than decent chance that after that hunt his father had simply had enough of Dean in general; and he'd simply chosen to leave his worthless son's ass behind. Especially since he couldn't hunt anymore. Hell, Dean couldn't do anything but research shit at this point. He was no longer a viable option for his father's physical release of his pent up stress and anger; in other words, now Dean was good for absolutely nothing. His father had made sure that he was fully aware of that fact. That had been before he had been relegated to this damn chair.

Angrily, he grabbed the cell phone, his decision made. Shaky fingers dialed Sam's old number, praying that he hadn't changed the number in the last couple of years. He waited as the phone rang several times before he heard a voice on the other end. "Hello?" A deep male voice answered.

Dean closed his eyes and scrubbed his hand down his face as the sound of his little brother's voice vibrated through his head. He leaned forward placing his elbows on his useless knees.

"Hello?" His brother's voice took on a note of irritation.

Blowing out a breath, "Sammy?" he answered quietly. He heard the shocked intake of air as Sam mentally connected the deep gravelly voice on the phone line with that of his older brother.

"Dean?" Sam asked. God, he hadn't heard from Dean for years and all of the sudden on a Sunday night he was getting a phone call from him? What the hell? Oh god, hopefully nothing had happened to their father. "Is dad okay?"

"As far as I know, dad's fine."

Swallowing Sam continued, "Are you okay Dean?" he finished quickly.

Dean couldn't help but notice that Sam had asked about their father before he had asked about him. It was just one more nail in the proverbial coffin that seemed to represent his life.

Sam's mind ran through so many scenarios that would've caused his brother to reach out after so much time that he found a tension headache starting to form behind his eyes. He leaned over and placed his hand at the back of his neck and started to massage the stress and the tight muscles to alleviate the pain.

Dean concentrated on breathing in and out slowly, and then finally answered his brother's questions. "Uh…no Sam…not so much." He said.

"What the hell does that mean Dean? Could you be more cryptic?" Sam said in exasperation, his anger immediately surfacing at the familiar evasion tactics of his other brother.

"Look Sam…can you just meet me, please?" Dean asked quietly.

That wasn't a normal request from his brother, so Sam took a moment to think and Dean rushed forward. "Sam, I haven't asked you for a thing in almost 4 years, please I just…I need you to meet me."

The desperation in his brother's voice convinced him. "Okay Dean. Where?" Sam asked as he grabbed a pen off the table and a piece of notebook paper.

"Motel off the 110…San Bernadino…." Dean said, holding his breath as Sam wrote down the address. He knew that this was weird and he wondered why the hell Dean wasn't coming to him? He had the freaking car, not Sam.

XXXX

Sam asked to borrow Brady's BMW, is was nice to have friends with money, and left that night to meet Dean. It had been such an odd request that Sam was worried about his brother and he really needed to see just what the hell had happened to cause Dean to contact him in the first place. The drive took longer than he'd thought it would. Sam pulled into the shabby motel parking lot. It was even worse than the ones he remembered staying in when they were kids…if that is even possible. There was only one light on in the entire rundown parking lot; the others were completely burned out. Sam's eyes flashed around looking for the Impala, he was surprised when he didn't see the sleek black car anywhere in the lot. Dean, I swear if I drove all the way out here and you aren't here, I'm gonna kick your ass. He thought with no small amount of irritation. Sam pulled into the space in front of room 115 and climbed out of the car, he looked up at the room and inhaled deeply steeling his nerves for this encounter. He knew that at some point he would have to come clean with his brother and explain why he had left that night, but that wasn't this night.

He walked up the door, the white paint was peeling off the wood and the numbers were a dim shadow of what they had been when they had been painted onto that old door like a million years ago. He knocked three times and stepped back slightly, leaning against the doorframe and waited for Dean. He heard movement on the other side of the door but it was taking Dean a lot longer than it should have for him to walk over and open the damn door. That thought had Sam standing up worriedly and looking expectantly at the still closed door. He knocked again, harder this time. "Dean?" he called loudly. Suddenly the door was creaked open and Sam's eyes dropped several inches to connect with his older brother's green gaze. It was about three feet south of where it should have been. Dean was sitting in a wheelchair.

"Sorry Sam. I'm not as fast as I used to be." He quipped with a light chuckle, although there was absolutely no humor in his guarded eyes as he looked up at Sam. He rolled out of the way and waved a hand indicating that Sam should come inside.

Sam's eyebrows drew together in confusion as he stared at his brother expecting him to jump up out of the chair and yell 'gotcha!' But that never happened; Dean remained seated in the chair, his emaciated legs listing to one side. He was far thinner than Sam could ever remember seeing him; Dean's face was a mask of shame and sadness as he watched the myriad of confused emotions flash across his little brother's expressive blue-green eyes.

"Dean, what the hell happened?" Sam breathed out as he sank down onto the bed nearest the bathroom, old habits die hard he supposed.

Dean looked at the floor, picking at his black pants before slowly lifting his gaze to Sam's face. "I'm not really sure Sam." He answered honestly. "Dad and I were hunting this witch in Montana, dad got taken by the damn thing, next thing I know, I'm out cold and waking up in a hospital in freakin Utah. Dad was nowhere to be found." He shrugged his shoulders and then looked back at Sam, his eyes having gone blank. His whole expression was the mask that Sam remembered seeing far too often when they were kids.

"You don't know how you got to the hospital? Or where dad is at? Or if he's still alive?" Sam recounted incredulously. At his brother's dejected shake of his head, he continued. "So what did the doctors say about your condition?"

"One question at a time Sammy. They said that the spinal cord was severely damaged and that there was nothing that they could do. No, I have no idea where dad is at, or if he's still alive. And before you ask, I have no clue how I got to that hospital or what exactly happened that damaged my back." Dean spilled out the facts without allowing them to really settle on himself, if he did he knew that Sam would see it. His little brother was way too good at seeing past Dean's defenses. Sam looked at him with horror reflecting out his 'wounded puppy-dog face'. Dean really hadn't missed that face; he hated it when Sam pulled that one out of the bag of tricks that he stored away for both defense and offense where his older brother was concerned.

"So dad just up and left you?" Sam repeated quietly, his fingers twisting into his own pants as he looked at the condition his brother was in. How could dad have just abandoned Dean like that?

Dean shrugged again and rolled back further from his younger brother in an attempt to put some distance between how he was feeling about being abandoned by their father and how he was all too aware that he was just a liability now. It's not like he could help his father hunt. He was now as worthless to his dad as the man had been telling Dean he was since Sam had left.

His younger brother was the smart one, he was the one that had loved school, was good at research, and could stand up their father for what he wanted. Dean had never been able to do that. Oh he could research just fine, but he wasn't as fast or as good at it as Sam.

He hadn't loved anything about school, except that he could hook-up with some new chick in every town, and he had. And as for Dad? Well, Dean had never had the balls to stand up to their father over anything, unless one counted the numerous occasions that he had argued in favor of Sam going to college. That one decision had hurt Dean, deeply, but he'd known for years then that this life wasn't for Sam. His little brother could be something more than just a hunter. He could have a life beyond the blood and the dirt and the constant fear. And Dean had never wanted anything more than he wanted this 'escape' for Sam; and that particular argument with his father had ended in a broken rib and a seriously painful black eye. Sam never knew about any it of course, because Dean would never tell him; the abuse that his father had doled out over the years would go to the grave with the older brother.

Sam sank onto the bed scrubbing his hand down his face and shaking his head in silent denial, although the solid evidence was sitting in a wheelchair watching him with guarded green eyes and clenched fists. Sam had always known that there was a chance that he could lose his brother to a hunt. Knowing that was one of the facts that had forced him to leave. Sam couldn't deal with the idea of Dean getting hurt, or worse… But this? He'd never considered that his brother would be relegated to a wheelchair because of a hunt. And seeing the evidence as he glanced over at Dean was just as heartbreaking. He exhaled loudly and leaned forward; placing his elbows on his knees, a mirror image to Dean's assumed position several hours earlier.

"Who else knows about this Dean?" Sam questioned as he gestured to Dean's chair.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in the chair, his legs unnaturally still. "No one." He answered softly.

"Why not?" Sam wanted to know immediately. There were any number of people that Dean could have called. Bobby, Pastor Jim, or even Caleb, so why hadn't he?

Dean looked down and again picked at his sweatpants, his face had washed clean of the previous emotions. But his eyes were shining his shame out like a beacon in the dark, especially to his younger brother. "I didn't want them to know, because that would mean that it was…" His words dropped off and became quiet.

"Why did you wait so long to call me Dean?" Sam pressed. His patented 'bitch-face' making an unscheduled appearance as he stared at Dean waiting for an answer from his generally cryptic brother.

Dean huffed and looked away before answering. "Once I told you, it would be real." His voice broke on the word 'real' and he slumped forward in his chair. Sam looked, really looked at his brother. Dean's blonde hair was longer than he had ever seen it, his face unshaven, and he was wearing sweatpants, for god's sakes…

Sam tilted his head in sympathy. Dean was the strongest person that he'd ever known and seeing those shoulders slump in defeat or embarrassment wasn't something that Sam was used to, and he found that he hated it. "Is there any chance that this is supernatural?" he asked.

Dean's green eyes met his blue-green gaze slowly and he shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not really sure Sam, but I don't think so; don't get me wrong I wish it was. But the doctors showed me the x-rays and the damage to the L-3 and L-4 vertebrae, they were smashed together pinching the spinal cord and causing…" he spread his hands wide, gesturing to the 'giant wheeled elephant' in the room.

Sam bit his lip as his eyes scanned his brother's face for any chance that he was hiding something…anything…and he was even more distressed when he saw open honesty in Dean's emerald eyes.

"So what now Dean?" he asked softly.

Dean shook his head and inhaled as his eyes flickered around the dingy motel room. He knew that there was no way that Sam was going to leave him in this room. "I think we need to find dad, Sam. He's the only one that might have any answers."

That was what Sam was afraid Dean would say… He still had school, he couldn't just walk away from that, but he couldn't walk away from Dean either, not in this condition. His brother had given up most of his childhood raising Sam and there was no way that the one time that Dean actually 'asked' for help from him that Sam would deny him. He continued to chew his lower lip and twist a piece of his hair as he considered his options. Dean watched the childhood action and a small smile inched onto his own lips…Sam used to do that when he was weighing what he considered 'very big decisions'. Some things don't change, He glanced down…and some things do. He thought bitterly.

Sam inhaled deeply and blew the air out, watching as his bangs shifted and then turning to Dean. "First things first, where's the Impala?"

Dean's eyes sparkled at the thought of his car… "She's parked in a garage on third street, there were some repairs needed to the modifications I had installed…" he gestured to his useless legs again. "Obviously I couldn't do the work, so…" Sam couldn't remember a single time in his life that his brother had admitted to not being able to do anything with that car. Dean was a mechanical wizard, he had a natural affinity for all things motorized.

Sam's eyes dropped from Dean's; no longer able to hold the gaze, he was breaking inside for his brother. The acceptance that he saw in Dean's behavior was so unlike his cocky older brother that Sam wondered exactly what else had happened while he was away. "Dean, why didn't you try to call me?" he asked softly.

Dean's head snapped up and met his eyes full force. "I did." He answered simply.

Sam shook his head before something tickled at his memory, sometimes having a great memory wasn't a good thing. About a year ago he had gotten a weird call. The caller ID hadn't recognized the number, so he hadn't answered it, but he had checked on the area code. "What state did all this happen in, Dean?"

Dean used his arms to shift his weight and inhaled as he saw Sam's hamster going into overdrive as his brother pieced everything together. "Utah." he said slowly.

"'801' area code right?" Sam finished. He watched with rising horror as his brother nodded and confirmed his suspicions. Dean had tried to call him, to tell him about the accident and probably to ask for his help and Sam had ignored the call. He had walked on his brother and then he had ignored his damned phone call. What kind of brother am I? Sam was kicking himself mentally and Dean recognized a full-blown emo fest coming on.

"Sam, you didn't know. I should have tried to call again but I was angry and bitter. And scared." He whispered. He didn't want Sam feeling guilty for something that he didn't even know was happening. Dean tried to change tactics… "Should we call Bobby? Think he'd have a clue where dad is?"

Sam recognized what Dean was doing and decided that he wasn't going to call his brother out on it, since he really wanted to change the subject too. Maybe if they got a hold of Bobby, they could get to tracking down their father…and maybe…just maybe there was a solution to Dean's current condition.

TBC…

Author's Note: I always tend to write hurt Dean…so here's another one. But I don't like to leave him in nasty positions forever…so there will be a hunt and an eventual solution to his legs. But the brothers need to find their father, the witch, and hopefully work through their anger at one another along the way. There will be some hunts from the first season…only a little modified for Dean's sake.

Please Review: I would like to know if there is interest in this little story…