This is a one-shot dedicated to Lia Walker who made the request!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean, or John Winchester. They all belong to Eric Kripke and the fantastic show that is Supernatural.

Summary: One-shot where 14-year-old Dean finds himself choking, John is out on a hunt, and Sam isn't strong enough to help. Choking!Dean, scared!Sam, and comforting!John.

A/N: Hey loyal readers! Just got back from Comic Con and it was AMAZING! I had so much fun. This is my first attempt at writing a one-shot but I figured it would be a good way to get back into the mindset of writing. I promise the next chapter of Mistakes Were Made will be posted soon! Until then, I hope you enjoy this teen!chester story 

Dean prided himself in being able to gross out his little brother. It wasn't an easy feat considering all the things the Winchester boys had seen in their short lifetimes. But at the age of fourteen, Dean was a master at it. He knew exactly what made Sam's stomach churn, no matter how often the ten-year-old claimed otherwise.

So when Dean shoved an entire egg salad sandwich into his mouth, chewed a few times, then revealed the product to his brother, he knew exactly what kind of reaction he would get.

He wasn't disappointed as Sam's nose immediately crinkled with disgust.

"Ugh, Deeaaannn… That's nasty!" Sam turned away, feeling queasy at the sight.

Dean snorted with laughter, and while he had been expecting Sam's reaction, he hadn't been prepared for his own outcome.

One minute he was laughing at his success, and the next he was choking. He had inhaled a large piece of the sandwich and it had lodged painfully in his throat. He tried desperately to cough it up or swallow it, but it refused to budge either way. Now he was starting to panic.

Sam cautiously turned back around when his big brother's guffaws suddenly stopped. He was prepared for it to be another trick well-crafted by the other boy, but his heart leapt into his throat when he saw the fear in Dean's eyes.

Dean was clawing at his throat, trying to at least get enough room between the bread and the walls of his esophagus to draw in a little air. John had trained his boys to be able to hold their breaths for over a minute and a half, but that was with both lungs filled with air. Since Dean had just barely been able to inhale before he started choking, he was already starting to get dizzy and he was seeing black spots clouding his vision.

Dean knew the proper procedure when it came to choking. It was one of the first things his father had taught him before he started leaving the boys alone while he went on hunts. Dean fisted his right hand and placed the thumb side against his stomach. He placed his other hand over it and quickly pulled up and in. The food didn't budge.

He tried three more times, each pull getting more and more desperate, but he just didn't have the strength without the oxygen to feed his starving muscles. He looked around desperately for a blunt surface to take the place of his weakened fist, but as they were currently squatting in an empty house, there was no furniture to be seen. Dean sank to his knees, tears of pain streaming down his face. Suffocation was not the most comfortable experience.

Sam's eyes widened as Dean started turning blue and collapsed to his knees. He quickly ran behind his brother and started thumping him hard on the back. He wasn't strong enough to give Dean the Heimlich and he knew it. They needed help or Dean wasn't going to make it.

Dean could hear his own heartbeat racing in his ears. THUD THUD, THUD THUD, THUD THUD…! It felt as though his heart would burst from his chest at any second. He feebly attempted to do the Heimlich again on himself, but he knew it was a lost cause before he even tried. He barely heard his brother's voice over the pounding in his ears.

"Hang on, Dean!"

Sam raced to dig the cell phone out of his bag lying next to the front door. The tears in his own eyes were clouding his vision and making it next to impossible to find the small phone. He knew panicking wouldn't help in the least, but he was still just a kid and he was afraid for his big brother's life. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, making every movement feel sluggish and as though he was moving in slow motion.

Dean slumped forward against his knees. He could see Sam scrambling around by the front door but he couldn't hear him anymore. All he could hear was the blood trying to continue pumping through his veins as his heart slowed. It sounded like a base drum wrapped entirely in cotton. Bump bump… bump bump… bump bump… His vision was growing darker by the second.

"Where is it?!" Sam shouted in frustration before flipping the entire bag over, spilling the contents onto the ground. He then wiped forcefully at his eyes, clearing them long enough to spot the small object he desperately needed. He flipped the phone open and began dialing with shaking hands: 9-1-…

The front door knob started jiggling and the sound of a key in the lock had Sam scrambling away from the door with fear. Their dad wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow night.

Sam's own breath froze in his lungs as the door slowly creaked open, scraping the contents of Sam's upturned bag across the floor.

"What in the hell…? Boys?!" John was so not in the mood for this shit. He was tired and sore from the hunt he had been working on for the past two days. He was starting to feel his age and he didn't like it. While he managed to escape serious injuries, he had enough scrapes and bruises to be annoyed and uncomfortable.

He told his boys not to expect him until late tomorrow night and was tempted to just stay at the hotel instead of making the drive back to the empty house he had dropped the boys off at before heading to the hunt. However, something in his gut told him he should get back and make sure everything was okay.

He certainly was not expecting to find expensive weapons strewn all over the floor in front of the door. These were tools of their trade, not toys, and he would be sure to remind the boys of that once he found out which one had done it. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that one.

"Boys!" he called out, taking a few steps into the front hall. His eyes immediately fell on his youngest son. "Sam, what have I told you about… Sammy?"

John froze when he saw the unadulterated panic in his child's eyes. Sam only got that expression when Dean was in serious trouble.

"Sam, what's goin' on?" John demanded. Something was very wrong here. "Where's your brother?"

Sam was on the verge of going into shock. Not being able to trust his voice, he pointed frantically into the living room.

John pushed the door open further until he had a clear view of his eldest child, doubled up on the floor.

"Dean!" He raced to his son's side, skidding to his knees and pulling Dean up against his chest. "Sam, what happened? What's wrong with him?!"

"Choking…" Sam forced out passed his numb lips.

John paled. How long had Dean been unable to breathe? What if he had decided to stay at the hotel tonight after all? He didn't have time to play the 'what if…' game.

"Dean? Dean, can you hear me? Look at me, son!" John gripped Dean's chin and gave it a shake, receiving no response. "Damn it…"

John pressed two fingers into Dean's neck, praying that he would find a heartbeat. It was there, but it was very sluggish. Thump… thump… thump…

He gripped Dean's shoulder and bent him forward, then pressed his right fist into his son's abdomen and quickly pulled in and upwards. He managed to repeat this process three times before Dean slumped like dead weight in his arms.

He needed to switch tactics. John carefully laid his son down flat on his back, straightened his neck, and tilted his head back. He interlaced his hands and pressed down hard and fast against Dean's abdomen, being careful to stay clear of his rib cage.

"Cough, goddamnit!"

He repeated the process four more times, sweat beading across his forehead and upper lip. His own heart was racing inside his chest. Not like this, Dean… Please, not like this…

"BREATHE!" John slammed a fist down against Dean's sternum in a desperate last-ditch attempt at saving his boy. The obstruction shot out of the teen's mouth.

Dean arched up off the floor, gasping in pain and thoroughly disoriented. John grabbed onto the collar of Dean's shirt and lifted him into a sitting position, rubbing his back soothingly as the boy's lungs fought to draw in air. Dean fisted his hands in the front of his father's shirt, clinging for stability and looking for comfort against the burning pain.

"Atta boy… Just breathe, Dean… I've gotcha… You're okay now…" John kept up the soft litany sending up a silent thank you to whoever had been listening to his desperate pleas for help.

Dean began coughing so hard that he vomited on the kitchen floor. John held him upright and rocked him gently as soft whimpers of agony escaped between his eldest's lips between bouts of sickness.

"Easy, kiddo… Try to relax…" John glanced up and noticed that his youngest hadn't moved from his spot in the corner of the room. He was still frozen in place. "Come here, Sammy. It's okay."

Sam slowly shuffled across the room and sank to his knees by his father and brother. John wrapped his other hand around his little boy and pulled him in for a hug. Sam instantly dissolved into tears again.

"Shh… It's alright. I'm here now. Everything's okay." He kissed the top of Sam's head and cradled Dean into a tighter embrace once the boy got his stomach back under control.

Sam burrowed into his father's arms, clutching the back of his brother's shirt in his small fist. Dean slumped exhaustedly against his dad's chest, battling through the painful wheezing coming from his lungs.

"How're you doin', kiddo? Can you breathe? How're your ribs? Do we need to get you to the hospital?"

"I'm good," Dean wheezed out, closing his eyes and resting his head against his father's shoulder.

"Open your eyes for a second, Dean. Are you seeing spots or anything?"

Dean groaned, forced his eyes open long enough to get an answer to his father's question, then shook his head no and let them close again.

"Good boy."

John continued to rock both of his sons on the kitchen floor, terrified to let them go. That had been way too close. He knew the boys would hate him for it, but he was going to have to step up their training even more. He couldn't risk letting something like this happen again.

But for now, he was content playing the role of father and being there to comfort his babies. He made a vow then and there to always protect his boys and be there for them no matter what, and no matter how old they got. He knew Mary wouldn't have it any other way.