**Set at the end of episode 7.2-Hello Cruel World. PLEASE READ ALL THE WAY THROUGH before you jump on me for not following canon. Thanks!**
"Sam? Sam! Sammy!" Through his own pain, Dean watched helplessly as his brother convulsed on the second gurney. The EMT worked feverishly with oxygen, IVs, and medication to try to stabilize Sam. Dean could only answer questions about allergies and preexisting conditions.
"Has he ever had seizures before?"
"Any history with steroids or recreational drugs?"
Ever reacted to painkillers? Antibiotics? Sedatives?"
"No, dammit! Can't you do anything for him?"
"I need you to stay calm, sir; we only have the means to keep him going until we reach the Trauma Unit. Just two more minutes. Let me do my job."
Don't do this to me, Sam, please, Dean begged mentally. Their lives had been rough, but at least they'd had each other. He practically raised Sam. They traveled together, had adventures, sometimes spent time with the only parent figure they had left. Until a scrap hunter broke into Bobby's salvage yard trying to steal car parts.
Sam discovered him first. Dean caught up with them as the pair got into a fist fight, but when he tried to jump in, the vandal sent him stumbling into a ditch of old tires—the impact with the steep dirt bank and a sickening pop told him his leg had just done something it shouldn't. Then the would-be thief cracked Sam across the head with a pipe, and ran off. All because they happened to be staying with Bobby while fixing their old Impala!
The ambulance wailed into Sioux Falls General Hospital. Two teams met them at the Emergency Room to take over.
"Lie back, sir, so we can get you inside," someone told Dean. He was up again as soon as the gurney hit the ground.
The second team was already disappearing through the Trauma doors with Sam.
"Male, early 30s, clean right tibia break and likely fracture in the fibula. Local anesthetic and x-rays stat!" rapped the lead doctor in Dean's team.
"Listen, I'm okay for now. I need to know what's wrong with my brother—"
"I'm afraid that's not our case to worry about. If we don't address your leg quickly, you could face infection or bone marrow in your bloodstream. I need Room Four prepped, please!"
Two hours later, with a cast above his knee, crutches, and confinement to a wheelchair until he could be discharged, Dean was brought to a private hospital room to see Sam. One of those mesh caps held bandages to his forehead, partially hiding one eye. He was hooked up to a heart monitor, oxygen, fluids, and just finishing a blood transfusion.
Bobby skidded to a halt in the doorway. "Are you two alright? Aside from the obvious."
Dean smiled weakly. "Well, they got me so doped up I probably won't feel anything for a week. Things got a little touchy before they could relieve the pressure to Sam's brain. Whole bunch of doctor mumbo-jumbo. He should be okay to go home in a couple days, though."
"That's what counts. My house is yours as long as you need it. I took the security tape to the sheriff, and they found the sonuvabitch meeting a metals dealer a few miles down. He ain't going nowhere."
Dean reached for his little brother's IVed hand.
"Watch it! We gotta make it to Sioux Falls, you know!" yelled the EMT.
Dean jerked back to reality—he and Sam weren't just hard-lucked, parentless brothers. They hunted monsters, and their ambulance ride was the result of tangling with a leviathan in a human body. Bobby was missing, his house torched. Sam's head injury was still life-threatening. Oh, and they were on their way to a hospital infested with more leviathans, all out for Winchester blood. Dean was already suspicious of their rescuers. Calm, happy endings just weren't in the cards for guys like them. Maybe in another world…