6

Dean nearly charged into the store to shook some sense into his brother. He really couldn't understand what was going on in Sam's head.

It was just another ordinary day in the ordinary life of Sam Wesson, or so he thought, until he followed Sam to that palatial jewelry store.

Ha, engagement. He's in it for real.

Dean licked his lips, his eyes followed the figure of his brother as he grabbed his bacon burger and took a bite, then another bite, followed by another, until his mouth was stuffed with food.

That's when he got a call from Benny. There's a case involving two deaths and a ghost right here in New York, Benny told him, you should take care of it, consider it a Christmas present of justice for yourself.

Dean's mouth was filled with burger: "Uh...um."

Then he got a sense that something was off.

That car that had been parked outside the jewelry store ever since before Dean arrived opened its door. Dean had secretly expected a bikini girl with her Christmas hat on to come out, for to him a parked black car with dark windows and an occasional wobble to it clearly indicates an ongoing reproduction scene inside. But a little black thing had popped its head out before anyone came out.

Please forgive Dean for being overly-sensitive when it comes to guns.

He was shocked to find the man inside the store lifting his gun. But what was more at stake Sam was already walking towards the gunman.

Damn it.

Sam you fucking idiot. Dean cursed silently. Did it ever occur to him that the guy has backup? Clearly he's been away from hunting for far too long that his radar had gone rusty in battle state.

Dean dropped his phone, hauled the car door open and rushed towards that revved-up evil car.

He raced through traffic to the back of that car and took over the first gun that came to sight. With a karate chop he knocked out an overwhelmed guy who didn't even get the chance to put his mask on, and a second one immediately pointed his gun at him.

For real? Dean thought.

He was faster than gun, and now behind him was this third guy who came out from the passenger seat. Dean circled behind him, put the gun at his lower back and pushed him to bang his head against the hood. That guy threw back a punch on Dean's face and that's when Dean decided it's enough, he decided to take the fight more seriously with this guy who's apparently jealous at his hot look.

Sam was just 10 meters away. No guns, he thought.

He pulled out a knife and pinned his opponent's hand neatly to the roof of the car. The man screamed in pain.

Now the one with the gun came out so the first thing Dean needed to do was knock his gun off. Then they had a fair fight: his opponent kicked right on his kneecap as Dean grabbed his upper arm and as he lowered himself because of the pain on his knee he stuck his foot between the robber's legs to trip him and finished him off by flipping him over his shoulder.

And then, fuck, there was a fourth person. Their strategy was actually one person going in and do the robbery while four waited outside as backup.

Dean admitted that when he ran over here he didn't get a clear grasp of the whole situation, but Sam was in there so he didn't quite get the time.

He just got stabbed in his ribs like that and that was the last straw, he turned around and jabbed the knife into the guy's shoulder.

"You're not gonna die." Dean told that dumbass who was clearly freaked out, then he pressed hard on his wound and ran back into his car as quickly as possible. He gasped, fuuuuuck, he galloped away.

Dean didn't think any off his vital organs were harmed. Long illness makes a great doctor, he curved his lips to a bitter smile. It just hurts, a lot, his wound was bleeding non-stop and it made his drive home seemed way longer than it should be. The back of his shirt was soaked wet by blood, which made his journey even harder, and at one point he thought his shirt was gonna froze onto him.

He gritted his teeth as he stopped his bleeding, stitched himself up and dressed his wound. God knows he's good at this. God knows that no matter how good he is at this he could never get used to the pain. He used up all the swear words he knew during the whole process and then collapsed on the bed without any strength left in him body, and repeated once again, fuck, because he had collapsed right onto his wound.

That ghost case will have to wait til tomorrow. He thought. Hope there isn't anyone stupid enough to go to a for-sale house where someone had died during Christmas for some kink.

"But Netflix shot a film there in the summer! Middle schoolers love that house, I think they'll even compete for the chance to have sex there on Christmas Eve."

Benny's words were ringing in his ears again.

Dean sat back up. Fucking teenagers.

He sighed, fine, it's just a simple case. That house's got a clean history and the only person who died there was this prop boy working there around the time the crew left, a cremated 19-year-old whose biggest wish was to find favour in the director and become an actor. All of these was written on his own Instagram. Dean just gotta find the earring he left there and burn it. The only reason he was needed in a simple case like that was that he was a hunter now based in New York.

Dean's injury was clearly worse than he thought, for he ended up on the floor with the boy's ghost on him, nearly unable to turn himself over. He lit his lighter and threw it at the earring, and the skinny boy screamed as he was reduced to ashes.

Dean's wound was bleeding again, as he sat on the floor gasping loudly for air, the door flung open. His hands were still covered in blood, his own blood, but clearly those people who charged in thought otherwise. They shouted: "Nobody moves! NYPD!" and they cuffed a frightened Dean in handcuffs, he was officially arrested as the suspect for two previous murders.

The police asked him: "Name?"

He licked his lip and said: "Dean Smith."

Dean smith was a silent inmate. He hadn't uttered a word but his heart was filled with all sorts of creative curses. This must be a joke, Dean Winchester had gained victory in the Apocalypse yet was arrested in a case involving the ghost of a feeble 19-year-old.

His wound continued bleeding non-stop so the police had to take him to the ER, a policeman stood next to him.

"Dude, care to bring me a glass of water?" Dean recalled his self-introduction, "Henriksen?"

Dean's lips were cracked. The last time he had liquid down his stomach was that large coke that came with his burger, and he didn't have time to finish it. Henriksen was indifferent: "You can't be naive enough to think that I would move even half an inch away from you." He put his hand down on Dean's shoulder and said in a sarcastic voice.

Dean gave in. There was absolutely no strength left in him, the day had worn him out completely and he couldn't think straight about anything at the moment. Perhaps not before long he'd be able to rest in his grave, he was really curious what Sam had put inside it. God or whoever else out there bless his little brother to do a better job burying him than that silly gravestone.

News was running on the television and words skipped into Dean's ears despite his effort trying to ignore them.

"Jewelry heist on Fifth Avenue, famous lawyer Sam Wesson who happened to be shopping inside the store performed an outstanding act of bravery and heroically subdued the gunman..."

Dean raised his head to look at the surveillance footage on television, Sam's moves were fast, he was not hurt. Dean laughed: "Wow, he deserves a medal for being a good citizen."

Henriksen pressed hard on his shoulder: "You are always this energetic, Mr. Smith."

Dean whistled in good mood.

Sammy's fine, and that's the best thing on earth.

The doctors tended to his wound and because of his annoying attitude, Henriksen insisted with a stern face not to give him anesthesia. Dean took it with grace.

His Christmas Eve this year took place in the police station.

Dean didn't bother to think about getting out of this because of pain, his eyelids drooped passively as he was being questioned by the police, he refused to talk because he knew nothing he said would be able to please them.

Henriksen slammed his pen down onto the desk and then snatched it back after taking a defensive look at Dean as if he would seriously open his handcuffs with it. He's not in the mood right now. Henriksen stormed off.

Dean let out a long, slow breath and closed his eyes.

He's so tired

Close his eyes, and he can see Sammy.

More action scenes guys. Which means my apologies in advance:)