This randomly came to me awhile back, and ya know...When a fic idea comes to ya randomly, it's only natural to write it, eh?; ) It's not really relevant to anything, just some EMO ramblings and some broness(Something I just don't get tired of seeing or writing). I tried to put this story somewhere in one of my existing fics, but it seemed to make most sense as a oneshot. Let me know what ya'll think. Hope ya like.
10 Missed Calls
Dean tossed a half-used can of gasoline into the trunk of the Impala. Closely following were a shovel and a rocksalt packed shotgun. Dean closed the trunk and shuffled towards the driver's side door. He wiped a soiled sleeve over his sweat-beaded forehead and grumbled when the jacket came away bloody. Dean dropped down behind the wheel and swiveled the rear-view mirror so his reflection shown in it. A curse mumbled through the silent and otherwise empty car as Dean poked gently at the thin cut snaking parallel to his left eyebrow. He wiped away the freshly welled blood after assessing that the cut would not pose any trouble and decided to be happy that he had walked away from a hunt with no other injuries.
Dean flipped the mirror back to its proper angle and turned the key to start the engine. The Impala crunched down the gravel path leading from the cemetery and back onto the main road. A content smile played over Dean's lips as he mentally added another tally mark to the number of hunts he had gone on and successfully accomplished by himself. It was a simple salt and burn, but that fact took none of the satisfaction away from the young hunter.
It was about time Dean's father let him go on more his own hunts. And when two different jobs popped up at the same time, John had no choice but to again send Dean alone on the easier of the two hunts; taking the harder and more dangerous for himself. Sam had argued until granted the permission to go with neither and to stay at the hotel and do "Geek stuff" as Dean so smugly called it.
Dean started, remembering that he had forgotten to turn back on his cellphone, and palmed the device from his jacket pocket. He thumbed the power button and waited as the screen lit up and played its happy, little, welcome jingle. Dean held the phone up by the wheel as to keep his attention equally divided between it and the dark highway stretched out before him. The phone beeped and Dean's content expression quickly fell as he read the screen. 10 Missed Calls. Dean pressed the "view" button and read his father's phone number nine times in a row before coming to Sam's at the very bottom.
Dean swallowed hard and tried to reason an unterrifying explanation for the number of times his father had phoned him as he called Sam's number and shakily lifted the phone to his ear. Ring...Ring...Ring... The phone rang a thousand times before Sam's voicemail picked up. Dean's rapidly beating heart drowned out all "unterriyfing explanations" that his mind had weakly managed to conjure up in the past few minutes, leaving only the alternative explanations that Dean would rather not consider. He quickly went back to retrieve and call his father's number. The phone rang two-thousand times before going to voicemail.
Dean ground out. His eye caught on the "voicemail" alert next to the third call-time his father had tried to reach him. Dean's thumb stabbed at the "Call Voicemail" option and he waited impatiently as the too cheery voice informed him again that he had one new message. John's voice filtered through the phone. "Dean. Pick up your damn phone! Where are you? I've been calling yo-..." John seemed to stop himself and silence crushed Dean's eardrum for a moment. "...It's Sam. He called me. Scared. Said someone tried to mug him and he got shot on his way back to the room. The line cut out before I get more details, and I can't get a hold of him now." A loaded and weary sigh. "I'm driving right now, but I'm still two states away. You're not far. You get to him. Quickly, Dean."
Dean still held the phone to his ear even after his father's message ended and the annoying voice took over again. Dean's eyes stared straight ahead, his brain in shock and incapable of telling them to do otherwise. He numbly closed the phone and let if fall from his grasp before slamming both hands on the wheel in a white-knuckle grip and pushing the Impala forward in a burst of roaring speed. The seventy miles between him and his injured little brother could not be covered fast enough.
Tires squealed as the Impala barreled into The Sunflower Side motel parking lot. Dean didn't even bother cutting the engine before he leapt from the car and ran to room number seven.
He threw open the door and rushed quickly around the room, searching for his brother.
Dean looked everywhere; he even went as far as to check under the beds. After throwing open the door to an empty bathroom, Dean turned and looked over the vacant room...Sam wasn't there. Dean left the room immediately and ran to the office. He pushed the door open forcefully with his fist and advanced towards the counter.
"My brother, have you seen him?"
The manager put down the book he was reading.
"Mr. Page, calm down."
Dean slammed his fist down on the counter, causing a container of pencils to topple over and the old hotel owner to cringe.
"Buh uhumm, an-an ambulance took him away near an hour ago." The manager squeaked out.
"Garlen County Medical Center."
Dean slapped his fingers on the counter and pushed off it in a run. He returned to the still-purring Impala and screeched back onto the road. Dean always made sure to memorize the location of all hospitals in the towns that he, his father and brother stayed in and he felt minimal relief that Garlen County Medical was the closest of the three clinics in that county.
The Impala's bumper neared a head-on collision with a sign reading "Reserved for Dr. Harvison" as Dean pulled into the parking space in front of the hospital. The automatic doors of the ER slid open much too slowly and Dean turned sideways to get through them as soon as they could open wide enough. He quickly spotted the nurse's station and ran up to a nurse with freshly graying hair.
"Can I help yo-?"
"My brother. He was brought in with a gunshot wound. I need to find him. Where is he?"
The nurse's face darkened in a look that caused Dean's breath to catch painfully. The woman pressed her lips together and she stood up slowly out of her chair.
"Perhaps you had better sit." She reached a hand towards Dean's where it rested on the countertop.
"No!" Dean snapped, jerking his hand away and startling his second person of the night.
"Tell me where he is now!"
The nurse swallowed and her eyebrows raised as deep compassion framed her features.
"He went into cardiac arrest on the drive over. He...he didn't make it."
Dean blinked rapidly as the words that had just been uttered perched on his eardrums, refusing to sink in. He shook his head slowly.
"No." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat before trying again.
"No...Cardiac arrest...No, you see he...he got mugged...the guy shot..."
Dean couldn't seem to put the sentence together correctly, a part of him realizing that his argument was futile. The nurse's eyes glossed a little and she smiled sadly.
"I'm so sorry, honey."
Dean stared blankly at her for a few moments, as if waiting for confetti to fall, balloons to appear and for Sam himself to jump out and exclaim "Gotcha!" When none of those things happened and Dean was still left to stare at the nurse, her words finally sunk in. Dean's hands slid heavily off of their perch on the counter and his shoulders slumped as if the extra weight was too much for them. He backed up slowly and moved towards the waiting room. It was empty except for a grungy looking man who looked like he was only there to be out of the cold. Dean's boots shuffled forward aimlessly. There had to be some kind of misunderstanding. "Sam can't be...I just saw him this morning, he can't actually be..." Dean couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. He put a hand on the taupe tinted wall as he reached the edge of the waiting area, suddenly feeling like the world was tilting to one side. The nurse's final words echoed throughout his mind. "I'm so sorry, honey." A sob within Dean's chest was the catalyst for the imminent crashing of his world.
His shoulder hit the wall hard and he slid down to the floor. Violent sobs shook him all over and tears ran down his shock-paled face. Dean could care less that he was in public, that right now probably every single person within two-hundred feet was staring at him and any farther away could surely hear him. But he didn't care. It didn't matter anymore. He had lost Sam. Sammy. His little brother whom he had sworn to protect at any cost. "...And look how good of a job you did!" Dean's mind screamed at him. All the years Sam had hunted and he had finally been taken out by a stupid mugger with a stupid gun. "He's just a kid...not even three months out of turning sixteen." The unfair irony twisted the knife in Dean's heart and he sunk deeper into his despair. What was he supposed to tell John? How was he supposed to tell him that his youngest was dea-...not around anymore? Dean couldn't stand the thought. He would blame John for not taking Sam with him and Dean would blame himself for not taking Sam along on his hunt. "No. You had to go by yourself. Prove what a big man you are. Well bang-up job there. Sam's dead and you're crying like a baby." The fact that the voice in his head sounded remarkably like his father didn't help Dean much. And it helped even less that he couldn't deny that any of the things that the voice said were true. Because the main part of him, the part that would have taken the bullet that killed Sam, knew that they were. "God, Sammy. I'm so sorry."
The touch of a hand on his shoulder would have been comforting had Dean not been so stubbornly resistant to feel any possible consolation that he didn't want and felt he didn't deserve. The hand squeezed gently and a voice followed.
Bitter laughter tore through Dean's head. "What's wrong?!" How could someone possibly ask him that?
"I'm crying like a damn child in a damn hospital. What the hell do you think is wrong?" Dean spat out, hiding his face in his hand.
"I...I honestly have no idea, Dean."
Dean froze as his anguish thinned enough for his tortured mind to recognize the voice and the touch and whom they both belonged to. Dean lowered the hand away from his face slowly, almost frightened to look up and only see that his mind was playing cruel tricks on him.
"Dean, what? Is it Dad?" Sea-green eyes made wide by concern, fear, and confusion looked at Dean.
Dean swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Sam?"
Sam's eyebrows furrowed as he continued to stare at his seemingly bereaved brother. His eyes flicked up and he gently touched the thin, red line above Dean's eyebrow.
"Are you alright?"
A few, quiet tears slipped down Dean's face as he refused to pull his gaze away from the youngest Winchester.
"Help me up." Dean asked softly.
Sam hooked an arm under the crook of Dean's shoulder and hoisted him up. Before Sam could stand up fully, Dean had both arms locked tightly around him.
Dean breathed; the laugh accompanying his voice held an edge of hysteria. Dean felt a hand on his back and he couldn't help but rejoice under the touch. He sniffed loudly and pushed Sam back to look at him again, but still kept his hands on his little brother's shoulders. Dean's grin was a bizarre contrast to the shine of his eyes and the tears that still ran from them.
Dean said his brother's name again as if stating some sort of confirmation and gave his shoulders a gentle shake. Sam smiled a little, still regarding Dean with in a generally confused look. Dean's happy expression faltered and shook a little after a moment.
He pulled Sam back into the hug.
"I thought you were dead."
Dean's voice came out slightly muffled by Sam's shoulder.
"Dead? Dean, why would yo-Ow! Dean. The arm."
Dean quickly withdrew again and noticed for the first time that there was a white bandage wrapped around Sam's left shoulder and the same arm rested in a sling.
"Sorry, sorry. Just uh..."
Hysteria flared a little in Dean's chuckle again. "...Just happy to see you."
Sam smiled and shook his head. "Okay...well...Why did you think I was dead?"
Dean hastily wiped at his eyes. "Nevermind. Let's get out of here, huh? Did they release you?"
"Great. Come on."
Dean gently wrapped a hand around Sam's uninjured arm and guided him towards the exit. Dean would have time to deeply pity the family who would not be so lucky as he was; to find that there had just been a misunderstanding and that their loved one was actually alright. But for the moment, Dean had his little brother back, and his heart had no room for sorrow.
Ok so...yeah, kinda pointless and random like I said, but hopefully enjoyable. I'm sure it's been done a dozen times before, but hey...Can never have too many brotherly love moments, right?
Reviews are like Magic Fingers...and I'm Dean.