A/N: I mean no disrespect to anyone who lost loved ones on that terrible day. There's no doubt in my mind that if Dean Winchester was in NYC that day, he would have gone to the WTC to help.

Word Count: 100 on the nose, below the section bar.

Summary: E/O CHALLENGE. Drabble word: coast. Sam's at Stanford. He's worried about his brother on September 11, 2001. NOT a death fic, just plenty of Sam!angst and a touch of hurt!Dean.

Come on, come on, pick up, damn it, pick up—


"Dean? Where are you?"


"Dude, where are you?"

"Nice talking to you too, princess-"

"Dean. Where. Are. You?"

"Blue Earth. Pastor Jim's. Zigged when I shouda zagged, and a fug nailed me. Broke my leg. Dad and me still ganked its ass."

"Oh. So you're not watching television?"

"Nope. I think Dad and Pastor Jim are, downstairs. I'm upstairs. So what's up?"

"Something bad happened on the East Coast. New York. I was just…I thought you and Dad were…never mind."

"Sam? Wait a minute—"

"Bye, Dean."