A Not So Very Merry Christmas

Summary. . . . . John's insistence that they carry on driving, late one Christmas Eve, results in an unfortunate accident. Sam's 10, Dean's 14. Written for sammygirl1963 who asked for a Christmas Wee-Chester, with a crashed Impala and hurt Sam.

Disclaimer. . . . All I want for Christmas is a Sam and Dean. A Jared and Jensen will do!

A.N. . . . . Well quite a few of you asked for a bit more to be added and you know I never aim to displease, so here you go. I hope that you enjoy, Peanut x

Dean might have agreed to leave Sam's side, but there was absolutely no way in hell he was going any further than the back window of the Impala. No amount of persuading by either John, or the paramedics, would get him to move from there, yellow eyes himself could show up for all he cared but he would still not be moved any further away from Sam. So there he had stood for the last half an hour, shivering in just his shirt, whilst they had worked to ready Sam to be moved, every now and then shouting out encouraging words to his brother, unsure if Sam could even hear them. He was so engrossed in his worry for Sam that he didn't feel his Dad come up behind him, didn't feel the blanket the older man placed onto his shoulders, didn't hear him trying yet again to get Dean to wait in the ambulance. All Dean could feel was how cold Sam had felt, all Dean could hear was his brother's pain filled, stuttering voice.

Dean could feel his anger beginning to boil once more, at the amount of time it was taking them to get Sam free. His hands rose ready to move the snow that had once again accumulated and covered the window, blocking his view of Sam, his hand stopping in mid air as his brother's anguished cry suddenly rang out. Dean tensed. Roaring out his brother's name, he bolted forward aiming to get back to his brother's side. John's arms flung around his eldest son's body trying to stop him from getting in the way, unfortunately Dean didn't see it that way, in his mind someone was preventing him from reaching his goal. He started fighting against the restraint, his desperation to help his brother blocking out his father's words from entering his mind.

"Dean! Dean! Stop fighting me, Sam's okay. They're just trying to get him out. Let them do their job. Move back so, please."

Dean just kept on struggling all the harder. Falling to his knees as his feet slipped in the snow didn't even slow him down; he just kept on clawing desperately ahead. Using every bit of strength he had, John managed to turn Dean around. With a bit of effort he managed to get him to look him in the eye and finally hear his words.

"Dean, let them do their job. Let them work. Let them get Sam out of there quickly."

"Why? Do you have someplace you're in a rush to be?" Dean spat out, his emotions and anger at himself for not protecting Sam causing him to lash out. "Do you need Sam to be free so that you can get to your precious hunt? You can't leave him stuck in a car, but you can leave him at the hospital?"

"Dean. . . . . "

"Don't Dad, if you need to go then go." Sam's cry of pain had shot Dean's anger up, his Dad being the unfortunate victim in the firing line. "This never would have happened if you had, just for once, put us first. We asked you to stop Dad! This is your entire fault! Sammy's hurt because of you!" Shrugging off his fathers embrace Dean rushed back to the snow covered window once again, needing to have his younger brother in his sights once more.

John just stood the stock still. Dumbstruck, he just couldn't seem to move. Dean's words had been stinging and hurtful, but most of all John knew that they were true. More and more often he would put the hunt first, more and more often he would leave them alone with the bare minimum amount of money to survive on, but somehow they would survive, Dean could always seem to make it last. As he dropped and sat in the snow, ignoring the cold and wetness as it seeped into his clothing, he wondered when it had all gone so wrong, so off track for him, when it was he had resorted to putting his children last.

Dean had watched from the corner of his eye as his Dad had dropped to the floor after receiving some home truths from him, a small amount of concern and regret filling his head. He didn't regret his words, if things didn't change one of these days someone would eventually get killed he felt, he just regretted his timing, his ferocity. He should be focusing on Sammy not fighting with their Dad. After brushing the snow away once more, Dean could see that they had Sam prepped and were just about ready to remove him from the car. The bent framework meaning he would have to be lifted over the bench seat and brought out of the front. Dean focused once more on Sam's face, anxious to see if he was still in pain, ready to demand relief if he was, relieved when he saw his relaxed pain free features. Sam was unconscious once more.

Dean had sent a grateful prayer of thanks to who ever was listening as Sam stayed that way as he was moved from the Impala, he sent another one as his brother remained unconscious for the journey to the hospital, missing the uncomfortable silence that fell in the ambulance between the two older Winchesters. A silence that continued between them as they waited in the small waiting room after Sam was whisked away, John sitting stoic faced, his head in his hands, on one side of the room, Dean pacing back and forth, biting his nails, on the other side.

"Dean, sit down please. Wearing a hole in the floor won't make them come out any faster with news."

Dean glared at his Dad, but slumped into one of the hard plastic chairs. "When will they let me see Sam? When will they give us some news?" He asked out loud.

"Dean, it's only been 15 minutes. As soon as they know something they'll let us know."

Not ready to start talking with his father just yet, Dean rose once more and resumed his pacing. John sighed deeply, he wished that he could make things right with his sons, but he wasn't sure how. He wished that he could turn back time, if only he had stopped, if only he had put Sam and Dean first. As he sat there patiently awaiting news on Sam, watching Dean pacing, a thought entered his head on how he might be able to at least put a smile on his sons faces, make up for past mistakes.

"I'm going to get some coffee son, do you want anything?" Dean just shook his head and carried on pacing. As soon as he was out of sight of his eldest son, John headed for the bank of phones he had seen earlier and dialed a familiar number.

"Joshua, hey it's John. Listen I need your help! . . . . . . . We had a bit of an accident. . . . . . Sammy got hurt; he should be okay though. . . . . . I need your help, I need you to get here and bring me some things. . . . . . "John ended the call soon after and after getting two coffees', if Dean didn't drink it he would, he headed back to wait.

The coffees' had long since been finished when footsteps could be heard echoing down the hallway towards them, two weary heads rose in expectation of at last receiving some news. At seeing a doctor approaching the two eldest Winchesters shot to their feet.

"Family of Samuel Wilson?"

"John, John Wilson and this is my other son Dean. How's Sam?"

"He's a very lucky young man from what I've heard of the crash. As you probably guessed his left leg is broken, but the break was a clean one. We re-set the bones and cast his leg, when we took the x-rays of Sam's leg we noticed a previous break so I'm assuming that you know how to help him during the coming weeks?" At getting a nod from both men the doctor continued. "Sam's on pain meds for the break and for the severe concussion he sustained. Head injuries like the one he received tend to bleed a lot, but again after x-raying the area we believe there to be no permanent damage. We've ran some scans just to make sure though. We stitched up the wound and dressed it; Sam's sleeping of the anesthetic in the ER at the moment but should be moved to his own room soon. As soon as that happens, I'll have a nurse come and get you. I'd like to keep him here for the rest of the night, but I can't see why he shouldn't be released later today, or tomorrow. Do you have any questions?" After getting nods from both men the doctor excused himself leaving to suddenly tired Winchester's to start healing their own wounds.

Half an hour later saw both older Winchester's being escorted to Sam's room, the kind matronly nurse explaining along the way that Sam would still be out for the count for a few more hours. The silence that had fallen after Dean's outburst fell once again over the small family once the nurse had left, only the soft gently snoring of the youngest member permeating the air. Taking up positions on either side of Sam's bed, they waited for him to wake, both men having different reasons to want to see those brown eyes. John looked discreetly over at Dean, noticing for the first time just how tired his eldest child looked.

"Dean, why don't you get some sleep? It'll be a while yet before Sam awakes." Getting no response only yet another cold stare, John tried again. "Dean, you know you can always tell when your brother isn't sleeping well, your Sammy radar will kick in the minute he stirs. If for some reason it doesn't I'll wake you."

Dean wanted desperately to rebel against his fathers wishes, but the events of the night and his own aches and pains were beginning to let them selves be known. Resting his head on Sam's arm he closed his eyes and mentally telling him self he was just going to have a nap, promptly fell into a deep sleep.

Sunlight was streaming through the window when Dean finally felt Sam begin to stir beneath his head, his eyes instantly shooting open, and his mind alert. The rapid movement beneath his brother's lids indicating that he was trying to awaken. Looking around the room he noticed the absence of their Dad, his annoyance beginning to grow at the older man once more. As the door to Sam's room opened and the object of his anger walked through carrying two more cups of coffee, all that anger and blame disappeared. The oldest Winchester looked terrible. Heavy, tired, red rimmed eyes stood out on an all too pale face, a face that was peppered with stubble. He really couldn't blame his father for the accident, many times before they had driven on in stead of stopping, many times before they had arrived safely at their destination. Bad luck it seems had finally caught up with them.

"Hey son." John spoke as he finally noticed Dean awake. "I'm sorry if I worried you, not being here when you woke. I was going to wake you in a bit and I thought that you might like a coffee now."

Dean took the beverage offered; taking a sip of the scalding liquid before plucking up the courage to say the words he needed to say. "I'm sorry too, Dad. I'm sorry that I blamed you. I'm sorry for the words that I said. It was just that Sam was hurting and I needed to lash out, to blame someone, because I couldn't lash out at myself, because I couldn't blame myself. . . . . ."

"Dean, why would you blame yourself? It wasn't your fault."

"Cause Sammy got hurt! All his life I've watched out for him, made sure that he was safe. I should have done that last night. . . . . "

A raspy, weak, pained voice shocked both men as it spoke softly from the bed. "Not your fault. I should have buckled myself back in."

Both John and Dean objected to Sam's words, both men reassuring the younger boy that he wasn't to blame.

"Sam, son it wasn't your fault. I should have stopped."

"Sammy, I should have made sure that you belted back in."

Both men glanced at each other and smiled briefly before their attention was went back to Sam. Who was to blame forgotten. "I'll go and get the doctor Sam, let him know that you're awake.

Both sons' watched their father leave. As the door closed behind him, Dean's protective, fussy nature took over. "Sam, are you okay? Do you need some water? Are you comfortable?"

Sam smiled, at times he hated the over protectiveness that his sibling surrounded and smothered him in, today though things were different and he found himself enjoying it. His head still throbbed, his leg ached and the rolling that had started in his stomach the minute he had opened his eyes had begun to get worse. "Headache." He eventually whispered out. "Feel sick, but don't think that I will be."

"We'll see if the doc will give you something for the pain when he comes in."

"Dean, how bad is it?"

"You have a concussion and a broken leg, kiddo. All things considered you were lucky."

"Don't feel so lucky. Feel stupid. You and Dad are fighting because of me, I should have been more careful."

"Hey, hey Sammy, we're not fighting. We were just concerned about you and some silly things were said, but we're okay now."

"When can I get out of here?"

The door opened as Sam asked that question, John leading the doctor back into the room. "I think that I can answer that question for you." The medical man responded. "Your scans came back clear young man and your father here tells me that you're not a lover of hospitals, so I've agreed to release you later on this afternoon. You're to stay in town for a few days just to make sure we haven't missed anything, you're Dad has booked into a motel close by. Sam if you feel any pain, blurriness, nausea or dizziness I want you to tell your father or brother straight away, okay?"

"Yes Sir."

"Okay then, I'll go and get your papers in order. I'm going to send a nurse in with something for your pain; I'm guessing that you're a bit sore right about now. I'm also going to get here to bring you in something to eat, I know that you probably don't feel like anything but I must insist that you at least try before I release you." Sam nodded his agreement, anything to get out of here. "Okay then, I'll see you before you leave."

The nurse had come in not long after with some toast and meds; after he had eaten half of the toast Sam had fell back asleep allowing Dean to finally question their Dad. "When did you book into a motel? Did you lie to the doctor, just to get Sam released quicker? Just so you could get back to the hunt?"

"Dean, please."

"Did you Dad?"

"No! I made the arrangements while you were sleeping. We'll be staying near the hospital until the doctor says Sam's well enough to travel."

Dean was dumb struck. "But what about the hunt? What about Mom's killer?"

"You and Sam are more important, Dean. It just took this to make me realize that. I imagine your Mom will be cussing me right about now for putting anything before you two. Caleb is going to look into the lead for me. I know this doesn't change what I did. . . . "

"Dad, I was lashing out. I told you that. I never meant it, I'm sorry. . . . . "

"Dean, we can keep doing this, keep going around in circles or we can agree to move on and concentrate on getting your brother healed. What do you say?"

"Okay." Silence descended again between the two men as they waited once again for Sam to awake, this time though a happy silence.

Five o'clock Christmas day saw Sam securely loaded into the back of a cab, Dean beside him, John up front, headed for the motel John had booked them into. The eldest Winchester breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived that the place was pretty decent looking, a vast improvement on their usual hangouts. He paid the driver before helping Dean ease Sam from the back, his youngest son's eyes struggling to stay open yet again.

"Dean, I'll carry your brother, you grab his crutches."

The small family made its way through the snow to the room John knew was theirs, a question forming in Dean's mind as they did so. "Dad, do you want me to go and get the key?"

"No son, the door will be open." John couldn't help the smile that graced his face at the look that crossed Dean's as his words registered. Leaning his head closer to Sam's ear he whispered. "Sammy, I need you to try and stay awake just a little bit longer, son." Sam mumbled something in return, his eyes heavy but still open. "Dean, could you get the door?"

As the door to the room opened, Dean's body refused to go any further. Behind him he heard Sam's gasp of surprise. The room was brightly decorated, Christmas lights blazing from a real tree, presents littered underneath it, Joshua standing grinning stupidly beside it. "I know that it's not much, but I wanted you to have at least one decent holiday memory. I love you boys, Merry Christmas."

A.N. . . . . Sorry if there are any mistakes, I'm one very tired Peanut today. Hope that you enjoyed the read, Happy Holidays, catch you all soon,Peanut x