This story came to me while writing The Deal. It should only end up being 2, maybe 3 chapters. I hope you like it and will let me know what you think.

Sam is 15 and Dean is 19.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the television show Supernatural. This story is written strictly for entertainment purposes.

"I'm gonna tell you one last time, Sam…we are leaving in the morning and no amount of tantrums or hissy fits are gonna change that!" John hissed, his red, enraged face inches away from his equally angry youngest son's.

"You promised! You said we'd be here through the semester! That's next week, Dad! You promised you'd come to the debate…the final! Two days…that's all I'm asking for!" Sam shouted back, long arms coming out from his sides to emphasize his father's injustice.

"People are dying, Sam...that's more important than your damned debate!" John shot back, the man ignoring the hurt that flashed in his son's eyes.

"Come on, guys…just stop for once! Let's go eat," Dean pleaded in exasperation, the young man gesturing his arms in defeat as he turned from his warring family and headed toward the crappy little diner that stood across the narrow street from the crappier little motel they currently called home.

John and Sam continued to argue their points, the sound of their voices cutting out as the door to the diner shut softly behind the beleaguered middle Winchester. He found a booth by the window and slowly turned his head and watched as the battle continued. He shook his head and turned away, then smiled up at the frazzled waitress who suddenly appeared with a glass of water and menu in hand.

"Uh…there'll be two more…eventually," he said as he accepted the menu with an embarrassed chuckle as the waitress glanced up to gaze through the window at the feuding pair across the street. She looked back down at Dean with sympathy in her eyes then turned and walked away.

"Yeah…story of my life," Dean huffed under his breath before turning back to watch the war continue.

Sam stared in disbelief at his father, the boy and the man either not hearing our choosing to ignore the pleading of their other family member. Neither noticed when Dean turned and walked away, both too stubborn to back down, which made them blind to everything else around them.

"Nobody's dying right now, Dad! It's too soon in the lunar cycle! We have weeks to research…which we could do here just as easily as there! We have plenty of time to get there, scope things out! The only reason you want to go now is because you want to screw with my life…again!" Sam shouted, his voice not only filled with anger, but with deep hurt also. "It's not the debate that isn't important to you…it's me, Dad. Why don't you just say it? If it means something to me, you're gonna do everything in your power to rip it apart!"

"That isn't true and you know it. Stop being so melodramatic, Sam," John hissed, though deep down he knew that Sam wasn't so far off the mark. Not the idea that Sam wasn't important to John…the kid meant everything to him. No, it was all the other stuff that Sam thought was important. None of that…the debates, the science fairs, the straight A's meant squat in the hunting world. Sam was going to school for one reason only…to keep Child Services off John's ass. His path had already been chosen for him, and Sam was going to have to accept that sooner or later. John was just hurrying it along a bit by nipping any little thing in the bud that took Sam's attention away from the hunt, before it had a chance to grow. It wasn't like Sam would be going off to college or anything like that, so all of his little extracurricular activities were just a waste of time.

"It is true. You don't give a sh*t about me! You care more about strangers than you do your own son," Sam said, the boy's shoulders sagging as he turned toward the motel and stepped from the sidewalk to the chipped asphalt of the parking lot.

"Sam, don't turn your back on me. This conversation is over. Now get your butt over to the diner so we can eat. Your brother's waiting," John said as he stepped off of the sidewalk and into the street.

"I'm not hungry. What do you care anyway? I could starve to death then you wouldn't have to worry about dragging my sorry ass around all of the time," Sam said as he turned to look over his shoulder at his father's retreating form.

John stopped in the middle of the street and turned, his face flush with anger once again. He pointed his finger at his son as the teen turned around to face him. "You are the most selfish little son of a…," John started before pulling a hand through his hair. "Everything I do is for you and your brother!"

Sam's eyes widened in disbelief and anger. "I'm selfish! You've mapped out everything, Dad! I don't get a choice in my own life and I'm the one who's selfish? Are you kidding me!" he cried. "You want me to believe that you do this for me? For Dean? You do it for yourself, Dad!"

John's body shook as rage roared through him. He was so blind in it that he didn't see the sudden movement to his right. He didn't see as Sam's eyes widened, not in anger, but in fear. He barely had time to register anything before the sound of Sam's voice screaming for him to move reached his ears and his son's outstretched hands plowed into his chest, violently thrusting his body backwards, his butt hitting the hard surface of the street with bone jarring force. The next sound was drowned out by the blood rushing through John's ears as he watched his son…his baby, flying over the top of the speeding red truck and landing in the street with a sickening thud. John couldn't take his eyes off of Sam's still form, his brain barely acknowledging the sound of Dean's screams until he saw his eldest son skid across the asphalt on his knees to land next to his fallen little brother, his hands reaching down and grabbing Sam's…oh, God…ripped, bloodied jacket.

John finally came back to himself and rolled onto his knees before frantically beginning to crawl toward his sons. "No! Don't move him, Dean!" he shouted.

The sound of alarmed voices suddenly filled the street as patrons hurried from shops and the diner, but John ignored them as he reached Sam's side, his shocked dark eyes taking in the mangled body that was his son. "No, no, no," he cried softly as he reached down and touched Sam's shredded cheek.

John looked up when he heard a strangled sob, his eyes meeting tear filled green ones. John opened his mouth to tell his son to call 911, but the sound of sirens let him know that one of the onlookers in the growing crowd around them had beaten him to it. Instead, he reached over and gripped Dean's arm then gave it a firm, gentle squeeze.

"Dean, it'll be alright…he'll be alright," he comforted, though looking at his youngest son made his heart sink into his belly. How could he be alright? A soft, gurgling moan brought him back to the situation and he jerked his eyes down to his baby boy.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, the normally strong, confident voice cracking with emotion as agony filled hazel eyes opened and blinked up at him. Dean leaned over his brother, his hand tenderly…carefully…cupping the top of Sam's head as he whispered into his ear that everything was going to be okay…that help was on the way.

Sam rolled his eyes toward his father, tears immediately welling as his lips began to move. "'m…s'ry…" Sam croaked before coughs racked his body and to his family's horror, frothy blood spattered over his lips, staining his chin and cheeks.

"No, Sammy…nothing to be sorry for, kiddo. Just be quiet…help is on the way," John soothed, his stomach clenching as Sam gurgled and choked around the blood pouring from his mouth.

Suddenly, both John and Dean were pulled away from their fallen one, their cries of protest ignored as paramedics immediately set to work on Sam. They both crawled around until they sat at Sam's head, their voices whispering in unison as they tried to comfort the injured teen. Dean glanced up and his heart jumped into his throat at the look the paramedics gave each other.

"What?" he cried, his eyes jumping from one man to the other.

Both men turned their attention momentarily to Dean before they went back to work attaching wires to Sam's bared chest and inserting needles into his arm. And just when, Dean thought, did they have time to cut open Sam's jacket and shirt to reveal his chest and arm? He watched in horrified fascination as one man hooked Sam up to the monitor they had brought while the other carefully poked and prodded along Sam's sides. His eyes widened when, for the first time, he saw the bone that had torn through Sam's jeans mid thigh, it's ragged end stained deep red with Sam's blood. The paramedics spoke to each other in hushed tones, but neither Dean nor John tried to hear what they said. They were too intent on watching every blink of Sam's eyes, every staggered rise and fall of his bruised and bloodied chest. Then, Sam gurgled one more time before falling completely still, his eyes closing, but not completely. The monitor he was hooked to blared an alarm that had both Winchesters jumping out of their skin. They both jerked their attention to the paramedics who…were doing nothing.

"What the hell are you doing!" John screamed as Dean leaned over and began blowing breaths into his brother's mouth.

"Sir…we can't…" one of the paramedics started, but John's frantic voice cut him off mid sentence.

"Help him! Don't just sit there!"

"Sir…his heart has stopped…he's not breathing…"

John lurched forward and grabbed the unfortunate man by his jacket. "So do chest compressions! Help him!"

"Sir…his…his chest is crushed. He…all of his ribs are broken. We can't do chest compressions. His lungs…his heart…I…I'm sorry…we can't help him…he's…"

"Don't you say it," John hissed. "Don't you f***ing say it! Help my son! Help right now before I rip you apart!"

The paramedic drew back as John let loose of his jacket. He turned to his partner and both exchanged a knowing, sad look before they took over resuscitation from Dean. With the help of John and Dean, they carefully placed Sam onto the gurney, one paramedic still breathing for the lifeless boy, then they loaded him onto the waiting ambulance. The doors slammed shut and the ambulance sped away, leaving two stunned, devastated men to watch after it before they finally took off at full speed toward the waiting Impala. They were at the small hospital in minutes and then the waiting game began.


John sat in stunned silence as he played the words the doctor had spoken to him over and over again in his head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wesson…we tried, but we couldn't save your son. Both of his lungs and his heart were damaged beyond repair…"

"You didn't try hard enough…"

"Sir…he was already gone when he arrived…"

"No…he's not dead…he can't be dead…he's only fifteen…"

"Mr. Wesson…he bled out before he even reached us. We pushed blood through him as fast as we could, but the damage was just too great and we couldn't revive him…I'm sorry."

John's legs had given out then and he had collapsed into his chair. Dean had begun to sob beside him and the doctor had remained for a few moments before he retreated, the older man shaking his head sadly as he left the devastated men to grieve in peace. Everything had changed. In that one horrible moment, they're lives had changed…had ended. Their life, their reason for breathing was gone. What did revenge matter now? What did anything matter now? Sam was dead and it was John's fault and he'd never be able to look his remaining son in the eyes again.

John glanced over at Dean, his heart breaking at the sight of the normally stoic young man falling apart beside him. He reached over and draped his arm across his son's shoulders then pulled the young man close.

"It's gonna be okay, Dean," John whispered, though he didn't believe that for a second. Nothing would be okay ever again and he knew it, but he had a job to do and that was to be a father to his hurting son.

Dean slowly glanced over and stared in disbelief at his father. "How can you say that? How can you sit here and say that to me?" he hissed before turning away.

"Dean…Sam wouldn't want us to…"

Dean leapt to his feet and turned on his father. "Who the hell are you to say what Sammy would want!" he cried, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "All you had to do was to put Sam first…just once, Dad! He'd be alive if you had kept one f***in' promise! Don't you ever tell me what Sam would have wanted…you've never cared what he wanted!"

John's mouth fell open as he watched Dean turn away. He rose to his feet, ready to defend himself, but when he saw Dean's shoulders sag and his body begin to tremble, any anger he held slipped away. He reached out and turned Dean toward him then pulled him into his arms, wrapping the grieving young man in his strong embrace.

"Dean…I'm so sorry," he whispered as Dean sobbed against his shoulder.

"I…I can't live without him, Dad. How…how can I live without him?" Dean slumped into his father's embrace, the man's strength the only thing keeping his son from hitting the floor.

John eased Dean down into a chair then kneeled before him. Dean looked up and stared into his father's dark eyes. John cupped the nape of his son's neck and shook his head. "We have to stick together, Dean. The only way we get through this is to stick together," he said hoarsely.

Dean dropped his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forehead on John's shoulder. A soft voice interrupted the moment between father and son and both glanced up to see a young nurse standing a few feet away. She shifted uncomfortably as she waited for an answer to her question.

"What? Did you say something," John asked as he stood, his hand still holding his son's nape.

The nurse swallowed as she shifted her gaze between the two devastated men. She looked up into John's eyes and smiled sadly. "I can take you to see Sam…if you want," she said in reply.

Dean stood and faced the nurse. "I…I don't know if I can," he whispered.

"I understand," the nurse began. "You don't have to see him, but I think it may help."

The Winchesters turned toward each other and finding strength in each other's eyes, they turned back to the nurse. John took a deep breath before he spoke. "Take us to see him," he said softly as deep inside, his heart split in two.

Okay, that's chapter 1. Now, those of you who have followed my stories know how I feel about killing Winchesters (extended family included). That being said, I hope you'll stick with me on this. Take care all.