Disclaimer: I sadly do not own Sam and Dean. No money being made, just for fun.

Spoilers: Takes place after CSPWDT, so anything before that is fair game.

A/N: I'm terrible at rating my stories. I'd say T because of the language, but nothing worse than what the boys say on the show.

Summary: I know this has been done before, but I couldn't help it. I hate being left hanging. It starts after the conversation at the end of CSPWDT, add a hospital visit and a hunt gone totally wrong. Hurt!Sam Hurt!Dean and some Angst too.

Authors Note: This is not part of my Taylor series (sorry guys I'm getting to it I promise). I have a notebook full of Tags/Missing Scenes. This one just dribbled out of my head, and I had to write it before it got lost. I did some research on the medical part, but I am not a doctor or any kind of expert. Enjoy!


Sam groaned as the warm water hit him. Could this day get any worse? A freakin zombie, who managed to disarm him, Dean was never going to let him live that down, but worse was the idea that somehow he'd failed his brother.

Dean's emotional breakdown had caught Sam by surprise. He could count on one hand the number of times he had seen Dean cry. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. Dean had gotten back into the car without another word. They had driven in silence until it grew dark, and Dean pulled into the first motel he saw.

Sam had escaped to the bathroom the moment they entered the room, giving him time to get himself together. He should have said something. The silence had only proven to Dean that he was right, and there was no way Sam was going to let him continue believing that.

"Sam, get a move on," Dean's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"Just a minute." Sam quickly dried off and pulled his clothes on, careful of his injured hand.

Dean barreled past him with a grumbled, about time. Sam shook his head and collapsed on the bed. He had every intention of staying awake and talking to Dean, but the last few days caught up with him. Within minutes, he was asleep.

Dean was not surprised to find Sam passed out on the bed when he exited the bathroom. To be honest, he was relieved. His embarrassment over his earlier breakdown made him irritable, and he didn't want to take it out on his brother. He needed to find something to hunt. Killing always made him feel better. God, that sounded wrong even in his head, but instead of heading for his bed, he pulled Sam's computer out and started searching.


Sam woke to the smell of coffee. His whole body ached, but he desperately needed to use the bathroom. Pulling himself up, he couldn't help the groan as every part of his body protested.

"You ok?"

He waved his brother off and stumbled to the bathroom.

Dean was waiting, coffee in hand, when he exited, noting that Sam took the cup with his left hand.

"Your hand still hurt?"

Sam shrugged. "No more than the rest of me."

"Let me see," Dean said holding out his hand.

"Dean…" Sam rolled his eyes, but let his brother have his hand.

"Looks ok," Dean mumbled.

"Owe!" Sam nearly fell over pulling his hand away.

"OK, after breakfast we'll stop and get it checked. You're no good to me one handed."

They packed in silence and Dean was tight lipped the entire drive to the diner. Sam knew the longer he waited the more likely Dean wouldn't talk about it.

"So, where are we going?" Sam asked picking at his food.

"I found us a job while you were catching up on your beauty sleep," Dean said handing Sam the printouts.

"A job?" Sam asked looking over the papers. "Could be our kind of thing or just a wild animal."

"Four deaths in less than a month. It's supernatural, a windego maybe." Dean smiled at the waitress who filled up his coffee.

Sam pushed his uneaten food away. "Whatever."

Dean threw a couple bills on the table and stood. "Come on. We still need to get your hand looked at."

"I'm fine. It's just a sprain." To prove his point he wiggled his fingers, only wincing slightly. "Doesn't really hurt."

Dean took his hand and pushed slightly on his thumb.

"Son of a bitch," Sam growled pulling his hand away.

"Doesn't hurt," Dean said walking to the door, and he missed Sam's glare.

"You didn't have to do that," Sam said sliding into the passenger seat.

"Suck it up, Princess," Dean grumbled. "There isn't a clinic in this town, but there was a sign for a hospital not far back."


Get in. Have Sam's hand checked. Get out. That had been the plan, but with their luck… Instead they sat in a crowded waiting room, Dean's mood growing darker with each passing minute.

The hospital wasn't very big, but the emergency room was busy, it being the only ER for miles. The triage nurse had been harried, but kind enough to give Sam a bag of ice, which was quickly melting against the warmth of his wrist.

Dean scowled at the little girl who kept bumping against his chair. Sam was tempted to tell Dean he could go. Who knew how long they would have to wait, and Sam could tell how uncomfortable Dean was. There were too many recent memories.


"Not now, Sam," Dean growled, the look on his face sending the little girl running to her mother.

Sam leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.

He knew he was dreaming. He always knew, but it didn't make it any easier. He was back in the hospital after the accident. He was in the hallway, watching the staff try to resuscitate Dean. He could feel the tears and the hopelessness. Dean was leaving him.

Dean watched the change in his brother's face, the drawing in of his brows and the twitch of his chin. He wasn't surprised when Sam's eyes flew open and rested a hand on his arm before he fell out of the chair.

"You ok?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam said sitting up straighter in the chair.

"Sam Carter."

"About damn time," Dean said waving his hand at the nurse.

They followed the nurse back to a line of rooms with no doors, a thin curtain covering the opening. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, glaring at Dean as he paced the small confines of the room.

"Let me take a look." The nurse, Patty her nametag read, gently probed Sam's wrist. With a hiss, Sam pulled back when she touched a sensitive spot. Dean nearly growled, hovering behind her. "Maybe you should wait outside."

"It's ok," Sam said eyeing his brother.

Dean backed up a step but didn't take his eyes off the nurse.

"From the lack of swelling I'd say it was a severe sprain, but with the tenderness it could be fractured. An x-ray should tell us."

Sam was given a small sedative before being taken to x-ray to help him relax. Upon returning from x-ray, he promptly fell asleep, which in Dean's opinion was a good thing, dreams or no dreams. A sleeping Sam meant no talking. Dean was still figuring things out in his head and wasn't ready for another heartfelt discussion. He still cringed at the memory of the last one. He shouldn't have said anything. He should have left it alone.

The curtain moved aside and a young man in a white coat cleared his throat before entering. "Sam Carter."

"That's us," Dean said sitting up a little straighter. He gently shook his brother's shoulder. "Sam."

"Wha…" Sam slowly came to. "Dean?"

"Over here, Geek Boy. The doctor's here."

Sam shook his head and tried to blink the fuzziness from his vision.

The doctor placed two x-rays on the lighted board and pointed at a small bone in the hand. "The scaphoid bone is definitely broken. Here."

"The what?" both boys asked.

The doctor smiled and pulled a plastic skeleton hand from his pocket. He pointed to a small carpal bone between the wrist and thumb. "I presume that you fell…"

Dean tried not to smile. "Yeah, he fell."

"So, a cast then," Sam said ignoring his brother.

"Yes. A short cast that also covers your thumb."

"How long?" Dean asked.

"Unfortunately, because the break is close to the wrist and not the thumb, it could take up to three months for the bone to heal."

"Three months," Sam said.

"The blood flow to that area is minimal. It makes healing take longer. For that reason I am going to give you a fiberglass cast instead of plaster. It will take more punishment and from the looks of you boys, taking it easy is not on the agenda."

Dean laughed. "No. We have to get back to work."

Under protest, Dean was ordered to the waiting room while the doctor cast Sam's wrist. Thankfully, his wait was short, and thirty minutes later the doctor handed him a prescription for an anti-inflammatory and led him to a very doped up Sam.

"Dean," Sam said with way too much enthusiasm.

"How long is this going to last?" Dean asked.

"It should ware off in a couple of hours, but he'll be asleep before then," Patty said with a sympathetic smile. "I suggest you get him home and into bed as soon as possible."

"Dean, were are we going?" Sam asked sounding all of five years old.

"To the motel, Dude," Dean said leading him to the car, which would have been easier if Sam's feet would cooperate. "Come on Sam, work with me here."

"Trying," Sam slurred leaning heavier against Dean. "You smell good."

"OK, they got you on some good stuff, don't they," Dean said trying to walk faster. He only succeeded in tripping Sam up, banging him into the nearest car. "Hold up a minute."

"What?" Sam asked tipping sideways as Dean tried to adjust his hold.

"Sammy," Dean growled grabbing both his arms and straightening him. "Be still."

"Tell that to the ground," Sam grumbled. "I need to sit down."

"No," Dean said quickly grabbing Sam before he could move. He was seriously regretting turning down the offered wheelchair. "Just a few more steps, and you can sit down in the car."

Sam's head tipped sideways. "Dean?"

"Still here, Sam," Dean said pulling him to his feet.

"Did I do something wrong?" Sam asked, his feet still not cooperating.

"Not at the moment, no." Dean just managed to catch Sam before he took a nosedive.

"Are you sure?" Sam whined.

"Yes," Dean said, not liking where this was going.

"Then why do you want to leave me?"

Dean nearly dropped him. This really was not the time for this conversation. Resting Sam against the Impala, Dean didn't answer. He hoped Sam's muddled brain would forget he had asked.

Securing his drugged brother into the car was no easy task. Sam was listing sideways by the time he managed to get the door unlocked and open. Sliding Sam into the seat was easy. Getting his arms and legs in was another matter.

"Dean," Sam mumbled, his eyes at half-mast. "Please don't leave me."

Dean sucked in a lungful of air. God, would this day never end.

"Dean, where are we going?" Sam asked again.

"To the motel, if you tell your legs to be still," Dean said trying again to get both of Sam's legs into the car.

"OK," Sam said his eyes closing. That was all it took. Sam's body completely relaxed and with one final shove, Dean got all of him in the car

"You so owe me for this," Dean said closing the door.


Sam forced his eyes open and looked around the room. The last thing he remembered was the doctor explaining his injury. Alarm bells were going off in his head. He had said something. He knew that much, but he couldn't remember what. God, his head hurt.


Sam sat up carefully, spying his brother at the table. "Yeah."


"Not really," Sam said eyeing the cast on his wrist. He stumbled to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Dean didn't look angry, so maybe he was remembering wrong. He still needed to talk to Dean, but drug induced conversations never turned out good.

He splashed cold water on his face, one handed. This was going to take getting used to. He wondered if he could still shot a gun, not that he couldn't use his left hand, but he was more accurate with his right.

If things weren't bad enough…

"Hey, Sammy, you fall in," Dean's voice bellowed from the other side of the door. "I'm hungry. Let's go."

With one last look in the mirror, he opened the door. They packed quickly and in silence. On the way out of town they stopped at another diner.

Like the day before Sam picked at his food.

"You fasting or something?"

"I told you I wasn't hungry," Sam said noisily dropping his fork.

"What bug crawled up your butt?"

Sam crossed his arms and leaned back in the booth. "Tell me more about the job."

Dean's eyebrows rose, but he pulled the printouts from his pocket. "Locals are chalking it up to bears, always bears," Dean mumbled.

"Let me see." Sam took the papers and scanned them. "Sounds like a windego, but the bodies were found."

"Windegos don't usually leave much behind," Dean said finishing his food.

"We'll have to get in to see the bodies."

"Already on it."


It took them less then a day to arrive at their destination, another no name town, this one in the middle of New Mexico. They lied their way into the coroners office, leaving with pictures of all four victims.

"OK, not a windego, " Sam said turning the picture to the side. "I don't know, Dean. This looks like a bear attack."


"Look, Dean," Sam said tossing the picture in his lap. "There is nothing on any of these bodies pointing to a windego or anything else supernatural."

"We've had this conversation before," Dean growled. " I know what I'm doing."




Dean pulled again on the heavy bag on his shoulder. "Tell me again why I have to carry everything?"

"Because this was your idea," Sam said following Dean deeper into the woods.

They walked in silence for the next hour before Dean threw the bag on the ground and leaned heavily against a tree.

"Dean," Sam said moving past him.


"Look," Sam pointed to a nearby grove of trees. Scratches and small pieces of fur could be seen.

"That has to be over eight feet off the ground." Dean mumbled.

"We gotta go. Now, Dean," Sam said shouldering the bag.

"Sam, wait, what…" Dean said not moving.

"That's a bear, Dean," Sam called over his shoulder.

"How do you know?" Dean asked moving closer to the tree.

"Jess… she liked hiking. We…"

"Hiking. You." Dean made no effort to hide his smirk.

"The point is we need to go."


"Dean," Sam said gritting his teeth.

Dean sighed, but reluctantly followed his brother. "So, hiking."

"Give it rest, Dean," Sam mumbled pulling the bag up higher on his shoulder.

"I'm just saying…" he smirked.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Like you've never done anything you didn't like for a girl."

Dean's smirk grew bigger.

"Gross, Dude. That's not what I meant."

Dean nearly ran into him when he abruptly stopped.

"Oh, crap," Sam muttered trying to back away.

"What…" a low growl drew Dean's gaze to the tress in front of them. His eyes widened at the sight of the huge brown bear. Sam had a hold of the front of his shirt before he could run.

"No," Sam hissed. "Running is a very bad idea."

"Sam," Dean said pulling away.

"Back up slowly," Sam said pushing him back. They made it about four feet before the bear growled again and advanced toward them.

"Sam, down," Dean said pulling his brother down with him, the bears large claws just missing them.

"I don't think slow is an option, Sam," Dean said grabbing for the bag of weapons.

"Dean!" Sam called as the bear reared up in front of his brother.

The bag of weapons in hand, Dean backpedaled. "God, I hate the woods."

"Shut up and move," Sam said pulling on Dean's shirt.

"I thought you said…"

"When do you ever listen to me," Sam said trying to stand.

"Good point."

The bear's claws connected with the side of the tree, showering them with pieces of wood.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said pulling Sam to his feet.

"What are you waiting for? Shot the damn thing."

Dean glared at his brother, grabbing the shotgun from the bag. Before he could aim Sam tackled him, the bear narrowly missing them. The shotgun flew from his hand, and Dean's head connected with the side of the tree.

Alarmed by his lack of movement, Sam hesitated, his eyes going from Dean to the bear then to the shotgun laying a few feet away. Distracted, he miscalculated the bear's movement and cried out, as it's powerful claws sliced into his back. Rolling sideways, he could only watch as the bear sliced at him again.

"Sammy!" His brother's screams having roused him, Dean grabbed the closest weapon and threw the rock as hard as he could, hitting the bear in the back.

His moment of triumph was short lived as the bear turned its attention to him. Dean tried to shake the fog from his brain and wiped at the blood dripping into his eyes. The world swam as he regained his feet. The bear advanced toward him, and he stumbled to where the shotgun had fallen. Swaying slightly, he tried to aim, grateful for the years of training, and fired hitting the bear square in the chest. Still battling the fog in his head, he spared the fallen bear a glance as he made his way to his brother's side.

"Damn it, Sam," Dean grumbled, finding Sam bleeding from three lacerations on his back.

"Dean?" he groaned, flinching as he tried to sit up.

"Yeah," Dean said leaning heavily against the tree. "Freakin bears."

Sam closed his eyes against the nausea that washed over him.

"Stay awake, Sam," Dean said.

"I know. Don't want to puke."

Dean laughed. "Right there with you. You barf on me, and I'll leave your ass here."

"Sure you will," Sam said opening his eyes. "Dean, you're bleeding."

"You're aim sucks, Dude. Next time don't tackle me into a tree."

"Sorry," Sam mumbled, his eyes closing again.

"Hey, I was serious about not going to sleep," Dean said getting to his feet. Darkness pulled at him, but he forced it back, must be strong for Sam.


"I didn't catch that," Dean said finding the duffel and pulling out the first aid kit. "Sam?"


"Tell me more about this hiking thing."

"Shut up," Sam said.

"I'm serious. What the hell is so entertaining about trees and bugs and…

"You are such a child," Sam mumbled.

Dean sat next to Sam, wiping his forehead with a gauze pad. Feeling with his fingers, he found the small cut at his hairline.

"Let me see," Sam said reaching for the pad.

"I'm fine," Dean said, taping one of the gauze pads to the cut. "Let me see your back."

Sam glared but shifted so Dean could see. He bit back a groan as Dean pulled his shirt away, but couldn't suppress the gasp when Dean poured antiseptic on the wounds.

"It just nicked you," Dean said taping a bandage in place.

Sam leaned back and continued to glare.

"Come on. Let's get out of here," Dean said pulling Sam to his feet. Stumbling under his brother's weight, Dean pushed against the sudden urge to pass out.

"You ok?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, got a hard head," Dean said.

"Right," Sam said sarcastically.

They walked in silence, both concentrating on staying upright. After two hours of holding up half of Sam's weight, Dean's legs were giving out.

"Dean," Sam said as he was lowered against a tree. He didn't like the paleness of Dean's skin.

"I'm fine," Dean mumbled turning away from his brother.

"You're a terrible liar," Sam said closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

"Whatever." Dean felt like crap, but he wasn't gong to admit it. The world tilted slightly as he rummaged through the bag for a lighter.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, opening his eyes when he heard his brother moving away.

"We need a fire." Sam caught the waver in his voice and knew something was wrong, but he didn't have the strength to argue.

"Don't go far."

"Yes, Dear," Dean said.

Sam adjusted his weight to his shoulders and not his back, hissing as the movement pulled on the wound. Finding a comfortable position, he couldn't stop his eyes from closing. It felt like only a moment, but when he opened his eyes it was dark. Not the somewhat darkness of your house, but walk into a tree dark.

"Dean?" he called weakly. Fear spread through him when there was no answer. Crawling slowly, he made his way to the bag and pulled out a flashlight.

Holding a tree for support, he stood and was instantly assaulted by waves of nausea. Swallowing back the urge, he pushed himself forward ignoring the pain in his back.

"Dean," he called into the darkness.

Stumbling over a fallen log, he turned so his shoulder took the brunt of the blow as he landed hard on the ground. He stifled a cry as pain radiated down his back. Angry at himself and angry at Dean, he pushed himself up and kept going.



It was far away, but he wanted to hear it again. He forced his eyes to open. It was dark. Crap. The ground was hard and something sharp poked his right hip. He tried to move, but his body wasn't cooperating.


Sam. Here. Here.

He heard the words in his head, but his mouth wouldn't work. A light flashed in front of him.

Sam. Please.

He wasn't above begging if it meant he could move again.

The light hit his face, and he heard footsteps.

"Dean," Sam said kneeling next to him.


Nope. Still not working.


That was smooth.

"Damn it, Dean. You could have just said something."

"Sam." YES!

"Open your eyes, Dean."

"They are."

"Try again."

"They aren't?"

"It's ok. Help me," he said before Dean was pulled forward.

He tried but the momentum kept him going.

"I got you," Sam said. Willing his eyes open, he found himself half sitting half standing against Sam.

"Dude," he whispered.

"I won't tell if you don't," Sam said pulling him to his feet.


Dean seemed to recover slightly while Sam built the fire. It took all of Sam's patience when Dean refused to let him see his head. Now he was wishing he had left his brother alone.

"Owe! Watch it." Dean growled, as Sam taped a bandage to the laceration on his hip.

Sam sighed. His heart rate still hadn't returned to normal. Finding Dean lying so still, Sam had been terrified. "Maybe you should have said something before you passed out."

"I'm fine," Dean mumbled.

"Stubborn ass," Sam said moving away.

"Great bedside manner, Dude."

"Here," Sam said tossing an icepack. Dean barely managed to catch it before it smacked him in the face.

"I'm so going to kick your ass," Dean said trying to stand.

"Right," Sam said.

Dean gave up on standing and glared at his brother.

"You should have said something," Sam said adding wood to the fire.

Avoiding his brother's gaze, Dean didn't respond.

"Sometimes I just don't get you," Sam mumbled throwing the last piece of wood on the fire.


"You try so hard for other people, for me, God, even for Dad."


"You don't get it, Dean."

"Get what?"

"How important you are," Sam said.

Dean smirked and turned away. "Yeah, important to who?"

"Me," Sam whispered.


"Just let me finish," Sam grumbled. "I screwed up, running away from this life, from you and Dad."

"Sam, no," Dean said turning to face his brother.

"Yes, Dean. We're stronger together." Sam dropped his gaze to the ground. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Could have fooled me," Sam said. "You know, this thing with Dad. It was his choice."

"It was the wrong choice," Dean growled.

"Why, because he choose you?"


"Dad knew how important you were, not just to me, but to this fight. You're the stronger one, Dean, the better hunter. He knew I wouldn't be able to do this myself. Even with him helping it wouldn't have been the same."

"It was still wrong," Dean said.

"If there had been another way…"

"There was," Dean said clumsily getting to his feet.

"He may have been a hard son of a bitch, but he was still our dad. Letting you die was not something he could do. I can see that, why can't you?"

Dean shook his head. "I…"

"I'm not asking for you to agree, because I know you won't, but it's done, and getting yourself killed isn't going change that."

"You are such a pain in the ass," Dean said sitting back down.

"I know," Sam said leaning carefully against a tree. "How's your head?"

"Hurts like a son of a bitch," Dean said closing his eyes.

"No sleeping."

"Fine, but no more talking."

"Open your eyes, Dean."

"God, you're a nag," Dean said, his head pounding with the beat of his heart. He just wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep.

"Yeah, well, going into a coma would suck, and I'm not carrying your ass out of here."

Dean laughed, than groaned. "I hate you."

"I know."


It bothered me that Sam was using his hand at the end of the episode. So I did some research and a scaphoid fracture has little pain except when poked in the right spot and can be mistaken for a sprain without an x-ray to the point of healing by itself. Also, the cast bothered me some, but a fiberglass cast is actually waterproof, except for the liner.

Did you like it? Hate it? Tell me? I'd love to hear from you.