“Sammy!” Gabriel yelled, sliding to his knees beside the too-still body on the bathroom floor.
Oh no, no, no! Dear God, no! Gabriel thought, eyes quickly scanning over the still growing pool of blood that the giant’s body was surrounded by.
“Sammy?” Gabriel asked, already knowing that the man in front of him wouldn’t answer.
God, no, c’mon Sammy, hold on just a little bit longer. Gabriel thought desperately, picking the giant rag doll up off the ground before zapping them in front of a hospital. He ran through the doors and looked around frantically, his voice suddenly gone as his panic began to rise. He rushed forward, to the nurses station, and still couldn’t find his voice.
“Are you okay, Sweety?” The nurse asked once she saw him standing there.
“I-” Gabriel squeaked and held up his arms as high as he could, raising Sam up as much as he could so she could see it, and why the hell was the counter so high anyway?
“Oh, dear. What’s wrong with him?” She asked, coming around the side of the counter to get a better look.
Gabriel just shook his head and stared at her, pleading for her to save his life. The nurse looked into his eyes and sighed before motioning for one of the nurses to come help.
“Alright, Sweety, here, let me take him.” She said, gently prying Sam out of Gabriel’s grasp.
“He-he tried to-”
“Code Red!” The nurse yelled, her eyes suddenly flooding with panic, now that she could see the damage.
About a dozen nurses suddenly flooded in front of Gabriel, each taking some part of Sam into their arms, all manoeuvring so he was somewhat situated on a gurney, before they raced him down the hall and out of sight.
—
Gabriel was still standing there, where they’d taken him away, still starring at the double swinging doors in shock. He’s not sure how long he’d been standing there but a doctor finally came back out and looked directly at him, a grim expression set on his face.
Oh, God no. No, not now, not my Sammy – please, not you, not you…
“Gabriel Winchester?” The doctor asked, looking at him expectantly.
Gabriel tried (and failed) to swallow the lump in his throat, and nodded.
“I’m Doctor Kroger.” The doctor introduced himself, Gabriel’s mind racing too much to remember the name.
“Can we talk?” He asked, gesturing to the line of chairs bolted to the wall.
Gabriel again, just nodded and followed him over, perching himself on the very edge of the seat.
“Mr. Winchester, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to tell you.” He started, again looking at the angel expectantly.
“O-okay.” Gabriel nodded, his voice cracking.
“Mr. Winchester, your brother tried to kill himself. He’d slashed his arms vertically, along with the two artery’s on his legs. He’s suffering from massive blood loss, we have him hooked up to a transfuse at the moment, and a breathing ventilator. We were very lucky, if you hadn’t have found him when you did-”
“He’d be dead.” Gabriel finished, feeling his heart drop into his stomach.
The doctor nodded at him and smiled. He actually had the audacity to smile. Sam had almost died and the doctor was smiling.
The doctor went flying backwards out of his chair and only stopped sliding because he hit the nurses desk.
Gabriel blinked and looked at the doctor, then down at himself. He was certain that he didn’t actually punch him, he didn’t even feel himself move.
“Why would you punch a doctor?” One of the nurses asked, coming around to help him stand back up.
“I – I didn’t!” Gabriel stuttered, standing up, eyes going wider with panic.
The doctor’s eyes widened at this statement and he took a step to the side, before practically running back through the double doors.
“Hey! Wait!” Gabriel called out, running after the doctor.
“Can I go see Sam?” Gabriel asked, popping up in front of the doctor.
The doctor’s eyes widened and he looked behind him confused, before taking a step back from Gabriel, holding his hands up.
“Y-you’re not human.” He muttered.
Gabriel sighed and looked around the hall quickly, making sure no one else was there, before grabbing his chin, to make him look at him.
“P-please, don’t hurt me.” The doctor choked.
“When can I go see Sam?” Gabriel asked through grit teeth, trying his hardest not to break the doctor’s jaw.
“W-whenever you want.”
Gabriel sighed and let go of his face, before rubbing a hand down his own.
“What room is he in?”
“R-right there. On the left.”
Gabriel sighed again and looked into the window in the door before gasping. Sam was there, lying in the bed, hooked up to about ten different machines, his arms covered in bruises that were most definitely not there when Gabriel brought him in.
Oh, Sammy.
“W-when can I take him home?” Gabriel asked, tearing his eyes away from the man lying in bed.
Of course. Gabriel thought as he saw that he was now alone in the hall.
Gabriel took a deep breath before opening the door, slipping inside quietly. He closed and locked the door behind him before standing at the end of the bed in shock. It looked so much worse up close, now he could see the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble on his face, the artificial rise and fall of his chest, how greasy his hair had become along with a cut just above his left eye, a butterfly strip holding it closed.
The worst, the worst of it all was the long line of stitches that ran along the length of his arms, looking as though they were barely holding the skin in place, starting at his wrists and ending just below the crook of his elbows.
“God Sammy, what did you do?” He breathed, holding on to the end of the bed to keep himself from falling over.
It’s all my fault…Gabriel thought, coming around the side of the bed slowly.
Why did I have to do that? Stupid, stupid, stupid! I don’t even remember what we were fighting about…
Gabriel pulled the chair out of the corner as close to the bed as it could go before sitting down, feeling his eyes sting with tears.
I shouldn’t have left, I should’ve stayed with him, I should’ve been there to protect him. I should’ve…
Gabriel scrubbed his hands through his hair as the tears began to fall, pulling at the strands until he felt dizzy with the pain.
I don’t even remember why I was so angry, I don’t remember what we were fighting about, and you – I almost lost you because of it.
I almost lost you because of something I don’t even remember! Gabriel thought, realizing that he was no longer in the chair, but pacing behind it.
He was angry – no, screw that – he was friggin’ pissed at himself for leaving, he was pissed at the doctor’s and nurses for the bruises that were covering his baby’s sewed up arms.
Sewed up…like somebody’s broken toy. Gabriel thought bitterly, punching a hole in the wall.
Careful. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.
Gabriel was back beside the bed in an instant, crushing Sam to his chest, not caring if his tears soaked through the stupid gown he was wearing.
G-Gabriel…air.
“Right, sorry.” Gabriel let him go, and sat back in the chair, unable to stop the tears from falling.
Sam coughed a little before settling back in the bed, looking at his arms, a blush creeping up his face, and damn him, it made it impossible for Gabriel to hold onto the anger that had risen inside him.
“I guess I made it, huh?” Sam asked quietly.
Gabriel’s brain stopped for a moment at hearing how disappointed the hunter sounded.
“Yes, you did. I found you on the floor of the bathroom and I-” Gabriel cut himself off, turning away as the tears welled up again.
God, no…You weren’t supposed to find me…
Gabriel barked out a sharp little laugh and looked back to the man in the bed, who was looking at him surprised.
“Not supposed to find you? Who else did you think would find you in our house before me? What? Did you call somebody to meet you there so I wouldn’t have to find you dead on the floor?” Gabriel asked, rising to his feet.
Okay, so he lied – he was able to hold on to a little bit of his anger.
“No, I-”
“If you didn’t want me to be the one to find you then why did you do it in our house? Who else do you know would’ve beaten me home to find you? Jesus Sam! How can you say that?”
He was pacing again but he didn’t care, he was too wound up to sit down now anyway.
“Or did you mean I wasn’t supposed to find you alive? You wanted me to find you cold and blue on the floor, lying in a pool of your own blood, is that it?” Gabriel stopped pacing and turned to face the hunter, hands on his hips.
“I-I didn’t think you’d care…” Sam replied, keeping his eyes on the bed sheet.
Gabriel felt as though he was just slapped in the face.
Didn’t think I’d care? Gabriel thought bewildered.
“Of course I’d care Sam! Wait, you think that just because we had a fight means that I don’t care about you anymore?” Gabriel asked, making his way back to the chair.
Sam glanced up at him, his eyes wet and nodded before looking back down.
“God, Sammy, no – that’s not how this works. My love for you can’t just disappear at a moment’s notice. I love you more than anything else on this planet, and just because I get mad or disappointed at times doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I’ve loved you since the first time we met and you didn’t know that my kind even existed. I loved you even more when you tried proposing to me in the coffee shop and everything went so terribly wrong and I ended up covered in coffee and whipped cream. I love everything about you, you’re my little Sammich, and even when I’m yelling at you and angry, that’s when I love you the most. Because I’m only upset at you because I care so much about you, and I don’t ever want anything bad to happen to you. And sometimes the decisions you make have a potential to go terribly wrong and get you hurt, and that’s the part I get angry about. It’s that you don’t see sometimes how your plans or hunts could get you hurt, or the fact that you don’t care that you’d get hurt. That’s what makes me angry, the fact that you care so little about something I consider to be the best thing in the world.” Gabriel explained, smiling slightly.
“R-really?” Sam asked, red eyes peeking out from under the curtain of hair he had.
“Sammy.” Gabriel breathed, before crawling (carefully) into the bed with the hunter, sliding in behind him to wrap his arms around him, hugging him tight to his chest again, letting the hunter burry his head in the crook of his neck and let his tears out.
“Of course – I’ll love you forever.” Gabriel assured, kissing the top of the hunter’s head.
I’m sorry.
“Sorry for what?” Gabriel asked, petting his hair.
For scaring you. I promise it’ll never happen again.
“You promise, eh?” Gabriel questioned.
Sam sniffed and pulled his head out of the angel’s neck and nodded, holding the gaze with his puffy, red eyes.
“Good, because I don’t ever want this to happen again.”
“I- I promise – never again.” Sam agreed.
“Sammy, it’s not your fault.” Gabriel said, holding the gaze.
Sam shifted uncomfortably under the gaze and nodded.
Yeah, I know.
“It’s not your fault.” Gabriel repeated.
“Y-yeah, okay.” Sam agreed, looking down at the bed.
“It’s not your fault.”
Sam fiddled with his hands, and nodded again, eyes not meeting the angels.
“Hey – it’s not your fault.” Gabriel stated, grabbing the hunter’s chin, forcing him to look at him.
“Gabriel, stop.” Sam requested.
“It’s not your fault.” Gabriel continued.
“Gabriel, stop it.” Sam stated, slapping the angel’s hand away from his chin.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Stop it. Don’t – don’t you fuck with me.” Sam pleaded, eyes filling back up with tears.
“It isn’t your fault Sammy, it’s not.” Gabriel stated.
Such a broken sound escaped passed Sam’s lips that Gabriel thought he’d hurt him. Sam pulled Gabriel to him, holding onto him tightly, as if he would drown if he let him go and sobbed into his shirt. And for the second time that day Sam let himself break apart in front of the angel.
“Ssshhh, Sammy it’s okay.” Gabriel cooed, rubbing circles into his back.
“You’re okay, huh? You’re gonna be just fine baby.” Gabriel assured, kissing the top of his head.
They stayed like that (miraculously) until it was dark outside and Sam’s tears had dried, so he was just shaking in the arms of his husband.
Hey, Gabriel?
“Yeah?”
Why didn’t you just use your angel mojo to patch me up?
Because I knew how much you hated hospitals. Gabriel thought with a small smile.
“You ass.” Sam mumbled, but Gabriel could he the smile in his voice.
“So, whaddya say we blow this popsicle stand, hm?” Gabriel asked.
“The doctor said I could go home?” Sam asked surprised, taking his head off his angel to stare at him.
“Not exactly, but as you so eloquently put it – I’ve got angel mojo that could patch you up better than this dump.” Gabriel explained, his signature smirk in place.
“So then what are we still doing here? We’ve got movies to watch and popcorn to throw at each other.” Sam stated with a small laugh.
“See Sammy? The world’s not all bad.”
“Yeah, but there’s one thing I definitely didn’t think about.” Sam said.
“What’s that?”
“If I died, I wouldn’t have gone to Hell.”
Gabriel gave him a confused look and Sam just smiled.
“I would’ve stayed right here, having to put up with you.” Sam explained with a laugh.
“No, would’ve made sure you got stuck with being with our brothers.” Gabriel smiled.
“Oh God.” Sam replied, rolling his eyes.
“Guess it’s a good thing you found me when you did then.”
“Damn straight. Nobody needs to see that.”
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“De, I don’ feel good.” Sammy pouted from the bed, keeping his arm around his stomach.
“I know, Sammy. I’m gonna make it better, though.” Dean replied, walking carefully over to the bed with a bowl of soup.
“Promise?” Sammy sniffed.
Dean carefully set the soup down on the bed before climbing up onto the bed himself, scooting in as close as possible to the youngest, stretching out his arm, holding out his pinky for the little one to grab.
Sammy followed his brother’s lead and stuck out his pinky too, allowing the older to wrap his around it, sealing the deal.
“Of course, Sammy. It’s my job.” Dean stated, smiling and ruffling his brother’s hair.
Sammy gave his brother a weak smile and chuckle, having it end in a fit of coughs with the elder rubbing soothing circles into his back.
“Where’s Daddy?” Sammy asked.
“He went to go get some medicine for you.” Dean replied, scooting up so he was resting against the headboard beside his brother, still holding the soup.
“Yuck.” Sammy said, pulling a face.
“C’mon Sammy, if you don’t take it you won’t get better.” Dean reasoned, sliding the soup over to his brother.
“Not hungry.” Sammy said, sliding the bowl back.
“Sammy.” Dean warned, using his ‘Dad voice’.
“De.” Sammy mimicked, scrunching his face up and pushing his bottom lip out.
“You have to eat so you’ll get better.”
“I have to do lots to get better.” Sammy stated, pointing an accusing finger to his brother.
“Not my fault you got sick. I told you eating grass was bad for you.” Dean countered, smiling.
“I don’t eat grass!” Sammy exclaimed, his eyes going wide with horror.
“No, but you do eat it’s cousin.”
“No I don’t!” Sammy replied, shaking his head furiously.
“Yeah, think about it Sammy, if they weren’t related then why are they the same colour?” Dean asked, folding his arms over his chest.
Sammy scrunched up his face in his thinking expression and was quiet for a moment, unaware that he’d picked the spoon up out of the bowl and put it in his mouth. Dean chuckled at that – Sammy wasn’t thinking unless he had some sort of object in his mouth. It went well with his giant puppy eyes and feet, Dad kept saying that Sammy would grow into his feet and be giant, taller than Dean. Dean didn’t agree with that, but you didn’t tell Dad when you didn’t agree with him – then he’d get mad and that was worse than just agreeing with him.
“I still don’t think that’s right.” Sammy finally stated around the spoon in his mouth.
He looked down his nose confused and took the spoon out of his mouth, placing it back in the bowl. Sammy’s head whipped up and over to the window, before he scrambled off the bed, knocking the soup over as he went.
“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaimed at the mess of soup.
Dean slapped a hand over his mouth and his eyes shot wide with what he’d said, hoping for a moment that his brother didn’t hear it. He looked up to where he was and saw Sammy skid to a halt and turned around slowly, his eyes big with shock.
“You used a grown-up word.” Sammy stated, his eyes still big.
Dean just shook his head, unable to find his voice.
“You used a grown-up word.”
“N-no I didn’t.” Dean replied, still shaking his head, sliding off the bed to stand.
Dean looked up to the window as he heard the familiar rumble of Dad’s car.
Uh-oh. Dean thought.
Sam’s eyes got even bigger and he looked toward the door, no doubt frightened now that their dad was close enough for Dean to hear the car.
“Sammy, look at me.” Dean started, rushing over to his brother, holding him by his small shoulders.
Sam reluctantly looked at his older brother, not sure of how to handle this, but at the same time trusting Dean to take care of it.
“Dad won’t know what I said if we don’t tell him, right? And if Dad doesn’t know-”
“He can’t get mad.” Sammy finished, his look not changing.
“Exactly, and I know that I’m not going to tell him…” Dean baited, waiting to see if Sammy would clue in.
“I won’t tell him!” Sammy exclaimed, face going shocked that his brother would assume something like that.
Dean smiled and patted his shoulders before pointing to their bed. Sammy nodded and walked back, stopping when he reached the side to look back at his brother, his frightened expression back.
“The soup.” Sammy said, eyes getting watery.
“Sammy, it’s okay, I’ll take care of it.” Dean promised.
Sammy didn’t look too certain but hoped back onto the bed anyway, trusting his brother. Just as soon as Sammy was settled back under the blankets, the door swung open to reveal a very tired and pissed looking John, who also just so happened to smell what Sammy called ‘the bad stuff’.
“Dean, what’re you doing up?” John questioned, narrowing his eyes at his eldest.
“Watching out for Sammy.” Dean replied, automatically straightening up and puffing out his chest.
John looked toward the bed, where the youngest was pretending to sleep, so he wouldn’t have to talk to his father. When he smelled like the bad stuff, he was a lot angrier and harder to talk to, the boys had found that out the hard way.
“Sammy’s sleeping.” John stated, as if it were a question, as he raised his eyebrow at the eldest.
“He hasn’t been feeling well.” Dean reminded, opting to not say the ‘I’ve already told you’ before it – that wouldn’t end very well.
“You test him?” John asked, walking over to the youngest.
“Test him?” Dean questioned, following his father’s lead and walking closer to the bed.
“To make sure he’s still him.” John clarified, apparently annoyed at having to spell it out to his son.
“He’s not possessed Dad.” Dean answered, sitting down on the edge of his father’s bed.
“He wetting the bed again?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then why is there a giant puddle on the bed?” John demanded, spinning around to face the eldest, his face set in a snarl.
Dean visibly leaned himself back slightly, trying to get away from the monster standing in front of him.
“I, uh, I spilled the holy water, when I tested him. That’s how I know he’s not possessed.” Dean lied quickly.
“You wasted the holy water?” John shouted, pulling Dean up by the collar.
He brought his eldest close to his face, so they were only inches apart – so Dean could smell the bad stuff on his breath. Dean could feel himself shaking, despite having every vessel of his being concentrated on not showing John how weak he was. Sometimes, if he was lucky and his body listened to his brain, his dad wouldn’t hurt him, he’d leave him alone and just go right to sleep.
It didn’t seem like his body got that memo today.
John threw the kid across the motel room, sending him crashing on top of the table against the opposite wall. Dean bit his lip as he landed, trying not to cry out in pain, another lesson he learned the hard way not to do. John started toward him when Sammy whimpered from the bed, stopping John in his tracks. Dean raised his head slowly and tried to blink the water out of his eyes, so he could see his brother, instead of just a blurry brown blob poking out of the yellow sheets.
“What?” John spat, making the lump shake with fright.
John started toward his youngest now, his face no doubt twisted into one of disgust at ‘the thing that ruined their family’ as John so often stated. Dean clenched his teeth and did his best to roll off the table, landing hard on his back, but sighed a slight sigh of relief as it’d diverted John’s angry attention back toward himself. He shakily got to his feet, keeping himself steady with one hand on the table, the other wrapped around his middle in pain.
“Embrace the pain Dean, be a man!” John yelled, walking toward the mentioned.
“J-just close your eyes, Sammy. I-it’ll be okay.” Dean ground out, wincing as the movement sent a flare of pain up into his jaw.
Dean saw the mess of brown hair disappear under the yellow sheets and felt himself relax slightly now that he knew Sammy wouldn’t be watching. That kid did not need anything else to think about in that giant head of his. John was now standing about a foot in front of the oldest, looking down at him as if he wanted to eat him. Some days, Dean didn’t think he would do that, sure his dad was tough, but he’d never eat somebody.
Other days, (days much like this) he had trouble convincing himself of that.
“Did you get Sammy’s medicine?” Dean asked, looking the monster right in his blood shot eyes.
“Sammy’s medicine?” John repeated, looking confused, instead of angry.
It’s really the little things that made Dean’s day.
“You said you’d get him some before you left.” Dean stated, looking expectantly at his father.
“He needs medicine?” John mumbled, looking down at the carpet, more to himself than his son.
“Yeah, Dad, I’d told you at least five times before you left.” Dean continued, feeling himself starting to get angry.
John looked back to the bed holding the mentioned for a moment before looking back and looking desperate.
“I- I didn’t think…” He breathed, as if trying to work through everything for the first time.
“Yeah well you should’ve Dad. Jesus, you promised!” Dean exclaimed, crossing his arms and glaring at the man before him.
John’s eyes got big as if he’d just remembered what he’d said and he fell to his knees in front of his son, reaching out for him, eyes desperate and pleading.
“I-I’ll go now. I’ll go get him some now.” John bargained, voice raised an octave.
“You can drive like this?” Dean questioned.
Even though he’d said ‘like this’ he knew his Dad heard ‘this drunk’ instead.
John nodded his head fervently, wild eyes seeking out the hardened gaze of his oldest.
“Ten minutes.”
Before the last syllable was out of his mouth, John had gotten up and rushed out the door, starting the Impala in record time, no doubt leaving tire marks from stepping on the gas so hard before speeding away.
Dean let out a breath and deflated as he heard the rumble of the car fade, he could once again relax. He flicked his eyes up to the bed and walked up to it as he heard soft sniffling noises.
“Sammy?” Dean asked softly, laying a hand on part of the lump under the covers, to what he really hoped was his brother’s leg.
The mess of brown hair popped out from the yellow and turned toward the direction of the voice. There was a shake of it and then two giant hazel eyes could be seen between the hairs.
“You okay?” Sammy asked, voice barely audible.
“Course I’m okay.” Dean replied, smiling brightly at him.
Dean climbed up onto the bed and pulled his brother carefully out from under the blankets. The second he was freed from the yellow cocoon he latched his arms around his brother’s neck and buried his face into his chest, trying not to cry.
“It’s okay Sammy.” Dean cooed, rubbing circles into his back.
“He still hates me.” Sammy cried, letting his tears fall.
“No, Sammy, he doesn’t hate you. He just…” Dean trailed off, trying to find the right words.
“Doesn’t want me anymore.” Sammy mumbled into his chest.
“Sammy c’mon, you know that’s not true. He loves you.” Dean said, nuzzling his cheek onto the top of his head.
“He loves you.”
“No he doesn’t.”
“He does.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Sammy.”
“De.”
Sammy started laughing as his brother started tickling him, not liking how sad he was. Soon, Sam was rolling around on the bedspread, face red from the effort of laughing so hard. Dean was smiling too, glad that he managed to cheer up his brother, and also glad that his Dad still wasn’t back yet.
“De, s-stop!” Sammy squealed, rolling around trying to get away from his hands.
“Alright, alright.” Dean agreed, before falling down onto the bed beside his brother.
Sam looked at him curiously before scooting toward him until their foreheads were touching.
“You can go to sleep now Sammy.” Dean said, his voice soft.
Sam shook his head, shaking his hair into his face.
“It’ll be okay Sammy, I’ll protect you. I promise.”
With those reassuring words, Sam allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
—
“C’mon Dean, you gotta eat it.” Sammy pouted, holding the spoon in front of his mouth.
Dean shook his head back and forth, not trusting his brother to not shove it into his mouth if he did open it.
“De, you gotta eat it or else you won’t get better.” Sam said, plopping the spoon down into the bowl of soup between them.
“I have to do lots of stuff to get better.” Dean replied smiling at his brother.
“It’s not my fault you got sick.” Sammy stated, sticking his tongue out.
“Yes it is! You’re the one who got me sick!” Dean exclaimed with no real heat.
Sammy smiled and reached forward, ruffling his brother’s hair much to his dislike.
“When’s Dad coming back?” Dean asked, glad that he managed to steer the conversation away from him eating.
“He said ‘soon’.” Sammy replied, doing his best John impression for the last word.
That got his brother to chuckle and ruffle Sam’s own hair. Sammy cried out but before lunging for his brother he carefully moved the soup to the bedside table.
“Don’t need a repeat.” He mumbled as he set it down before turning back to the oldest.
“Oh, c’mon Sammy, it wasn’t that bad.” Dean said.
“He hurt you De, because of me.” Sammy replied, looking down to his lap.
“No Sammy.” Dean disagreed, his voice going hard, making his brother look up.
“Not your fault. Never your fault.”
“Okay.” Sammy agreed, nodding before watching Dean sink back down into the bed, letting out a breath.
Sammy wiggled himself right up beside his brother, their sides touching.
“Sammy, if Dad comes back-”
“Don’t you worry De. I’ll take of it.” Sammy stated.
“But Sammy what if-”
“I promise. Just go to sleep.” Sammy replied, cutting his brother off.
Sam waited up until he felt Dean’s breathes even out, letting him know he’d fallen asleep himself, keeping his eyes on the door as he pet Dean’s hair.
“I’ll protect you.”
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