Sam had not expected to leave the room after the last part of his exam with a feeling that he had made it, but he was certain that he had. He had never felt better after a test, neither at school nor at university, and he was sure that he would soon get his certificate.
He immediately took out his phone to inform Jess and Dean and anyone else he could think of when he saw that he had several missed calls, from his girlfriend as well as from Bobby and Cas. His heart started beating wildly. They had known that they wouldn't be able to reach him and yet they had tried. Something must be wrong, terribly wrong.
And Dean hadn't called.
He was already dialling Bobby's number, mentally apologizing to Jess, because if it was indeed as he feared it was probable that Bobby knew more about what had happened. He picked up on the first ring.
"What's going on?" he demanded immediately.
"It's Dean," Bobby answered, the, paused.
"What? Is he alright? Bobby!" A few other candidates passed him and shot him strange looks, but he didn't care.
"He – there's been an accident. A drawer fell down on him – he's in the hospital. Me and Cas are there now, waiting for news –"
If he meant the drawer Sam was thinking of, the big old one in which Dean kept his heavy tools –
He swallowed and said, "I'm coming."
"Jess said she'd book a ticket for you."
At the mention of his girlfriend, Sam, even though he wanted to stay on the phone with Bobby until he reached Lawrence, knew he had to hang up and call her, so he did.
After having already worked in hospitals during her studies, she was calm, although he could hear a hint of fear in her voice.
"Your flight leaves in two hours," she informed him.
"Thanks, Jess."
"I wish I could come with you, but – " She stopped and he could hear her breath hitch; she was close to tears for worry for Dean and guilt at not flying with him because her own exam was only a week away.
He assured her that he understood, later unable to remember what he had said exactly.
Most of the remaining day – rushing to their apartment, finding his things already packed, kissing Jess goodbye and promising to call as soon as he knew more, talking to Cas on the way to the airport, them attempting to comfort each other, the flight, getting into a taxi and telling the driver to hurry, barely taking the time to get his suitcase and paying him and all but racing to the hospital's reception desk – blurred together.
It was when he arrived at the waiting room that time seemed to slow down.
Cas and Bobby were sitting on uncomfortable plastic chairs. The mechanic seemed to have aged several years since Sam had seen him last, and Cas all but disappeared into his trench coat. They both smiled when they saw Sam, however. Bobby even asked how his exam had gone, but he waved all questions away.
"How's Dean?"
"We don't know," Bobby admitted. "The damn drawer was heavy, it's a miracle it didn't crush his chest completely, and he hasn't woken up. That's all they've told us."
So it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Sam clung to the thought as Cas squeezed his shoulder, offering silent comfort. He only now realized what Cas must be going through. He wanted to offer him support, but when he turned to look at him, Cas only squeezed his shoulder again and gave him a smile that was supposed to be encouraging but didn't hide the panic in his eyes.
Later, after a phone call to Jess, who was just as worried as rest of them, and Cas had offered to get them coffee and left for the vending machine a few corridors down, Sam noticed that someone was missing. He would have felt ashamed, but the person he was looking for had been flittering in and out of their lives since Dean was four and he was six months old, so he wasn't surprised it had taken him this long to miss him.
"Dad?"
"I left him some messages. Cas tried to reach him, too. Rufus is canvassing the bars as we speak." Rufus would know where John liked to drink; he had helped carry him home often enough. Sam shook his head as he thought bitterly that their dad couldn't even be bothered when Dean – when Dean –
The reality of what was happening suddenly crashed down on him and when he came to, he was sitting on the floor, hyperventilating, Bobby rubbing his back.
"Sam?" Cas came back, coffee in hand. "Do you need me to get a doctor?"
He shook his head. He needed to be strong. He couldn't freak out. Dean needed him.
It was another hour before Dad stumbled into the corridor, followed by a frowning Rufus.
"I called Sheriff Mills," he said. "She was nice enough to send a cop to help. He found him at the bar on Kansas Street."
Sam reminded himself to thank Jody when he saw her next. She was sure to be at Bobby's one day or the other for dinner; they had grown rather close during the last few months, perhaps closer than Dean had told him considering the blush on Bobby's cheeks that immediately disappeared as he looked at John.
"Does he know?"
"I told him. Don't know if he got what I was saying."
"I'm right here," John grumbled, "An' I do understand when you talk about my own damn son, thank you very much." He noticed Sam. "Why are you here? Don' you have a big exam or something?"
Sam felt his temper flare up, but took a few deep breaths.
"Yes, Dad. I finished today. Then I saw that everyone had been trying to reach me, so I called Bobby and took the next flight."
Dad only now seemed to become aware of how tense and worried they all were and supplied, "I'm sure he's okay. Drawer wasn't that heavy. Should be able to take it."
"He should have been able to get rid of it years ago. Then this wouldn't have happened."
They all turned to look at Cas. He had barely spoken since Sam had arrived, but now he was talking, levelling his icy gaze on John. Sam knew that Dean's best friend and their father had never liked each other, but Cas had never shown anything but courtesy when interacting with him. But this time, he was furious and scared, and as he moved towards John, Sam wondered if he was going to hit him.
To his shame, he had to admit that he wouldn't have attempted to stop him.
But Cas didn't resort to violence. He didn't need to. He continued to speak, each word sharp enough to pierce even his father's thick skin.
"You haven't allowed him to change as much as a nail in the wall. You constantly control the garage to make sure Dean's workspace is as dilapidated as possible, you put him down and now, when he needs his family more than ever, you come here drunk and tell us he's going to be okay because he 'should be able to take it.' I advise you to stop talking."
Then he simply turned around and sat down on a chair again as if nothing happened.
None of them spoke, but it was clear that Bobby and Rufus approved of Cas' words as much as Sam did. Dad, for once, didn't fight, just stood there looking stupidly at Cas, swaying lightly before letting himself fall on the chair that was the farthest from his.
They had to wait another hour before the doctor, a friendly black man, came out.
"Family of Dean Winchester?"
They stood up, Sam nodding eagerly.
"I am Doctor Allan Dansley. Dean suffered a contusion of his chest, and he is still unconscious. Other than that, there seems to be no physical injury except for cuts and bruises – his brain scan shows no damage."
The relief Sam felt made him weak in the knees, and he was thankful when he felt Cas and Bobby move closer.
Dad was standing a little apart from them, staring at the doctor as if he didn't exactly understand what was going on, but once he did, he said, "Told you so", which Sam overheard.
"When is he going to wake up?"
"We don't know, but we expect it to be soon."
Their relief could almost be felt physically, and he excused himself for a moment to call Jess. She picked up on the first ring. He shared the good news and smiled at the sound of joy she emitted.
"A chest contusion isn't that bad – he'll have troubled moving and maybe breathing for a few days or weeks, and he'll complain a lot, but there shouldn't be any problems," she was quick to assure him, giving him more much-needed comfort.
"Call me as soon as he wakes up," she begged at the end of their talk, and he assured her that se would.
"How are you?" he asked finally, feeling guilty for not having done so before.
She sighed. "I can't concentrate. I was about to give up and buy a plane ticket when you called, to be honest."
He told her that Dean wouldn't forgive her if she interrupted her studies because of him; it was true, but that didn't mean that either of them agreed with it. Now that she knew his injuries weren't as severe as she had feared, however, she promised she would try to calm down and study.
He went back to his family – blood as well as other – with a smile on his face. Dean was going to be fine. Sure, he had a contusion. But it would heal. Dean would heal. He just had to wake up. Maybe he'd already tell Sam off tomorrow because he hadn't celebrated with his friends after his exam and returned later this week, as he had originally planned.
His friends, he suddenly thought. He hadn't informed them – Brady, Zack, Becky – and yet they hadn't tried to reach him. Jess, he realized with a smile. His girlfriend had taken care of everything while he'd barely been able to think straight. No wonder she and Dean liked each other so much. They were both incredibly selfless.
As he came back, the others were not where he had left them, but Bobby soon exited a room at the end of the corridor and waved him over.
"The doctor allowed us to see him. Rufus is gonna take John home afterwards."
Sam nodded gratefully.
Bobby chuckled. "When we got the news, Cas offered to look for you, but I knew you'd reappear soon and that he wanted to see Dean more than anything."
They smiled at one another before entering Dean's room, understanding each other without words.
Cas was hovering at Dean's bed, as they had known he would, while John was getting ready to go, Rufus barely speaking to him as he took his arm and started dragging him towards the door.
"Can walk on my own," he mumbled, standing still when he saw Sam.
"You call me when he wakes up," he ordered, and Sam clenched his teeth and nodded, telling himself that he was the one to decide when his father would be informed.
Then John and Rufus were gone and the atmosphere relaxed notably. Cas wanted to stand up, but Sam shook his head and allowed him to stay in the seat closest to Dean's bed.
They waited.
And waited.
After two hours, nothing had changed and Sam thought that the doctor was starting to look worried.
After four hours, he no longer had any doubts that he was.
In the evening, long after Sheriff Mills had come to visit and stroked Dean's hair, pulled his bed sheets down and done everything their mother would have (Sam felt a short, sharp pain at the thought) as well as having kissed Bobby on the cheeks, causing him to blush again, the doctor looked grave and told them they had to do more tests. He advised them to go home for the night.
They rejected the idea, but soon afterward, Cas, who'd had to get up early that morning and had a lecture tomorrow morning, as well started to fall asleep in his chair. After a long discussion, he agreed to have Bobby take him home, the old mechanic only promising to get some rest himself after Sam swore he would keep him posted on any little change in Dean's condition.
It was a long night. Occasionally, he got texts from Jess or Bobby, who both tried their best to sleep but couldn't; Cas, who had simply been exhausted from his day and the worries he had brought, seemed to be the only one who got some rest.
He and Dad, but he barely counted.
Sam tried his best to remain optimistic. He knew no one as stubborn as Dean. His brother would wake up and be fine just because he willed himself to be.
Just as the sun was rising, Sam, who had dozed off, was suddenly woken up by the feeling that something in the room had moved.
That something was Dean; he was definitely moving his left hand and groaning, even if he hadn't opened his eyes yet.
Sam quickly pressed the call button for the nurse and reached over to take his brother's hand.
"Dean?" he asked urgently. "Dean?"
His green eyes opened slowly and Sam breathed a long sigh of relief. He smiled brilliantly.
His smile dropped when Dean frowned, pulled his hand away and asked in a flat voice, "Who are you?"