No Accident
K Hanna Korossy

It was a tough decision. Dean eyed his choices soberly, measuring one against the other.

Okay, suck-it-up time. "The reuben," he decided, smiling pleasantly at the white-haired lady behind the counter. "Please." She looked like somebody's mom, and he found himself automatically dusting off his manners.

"Fries and slaw with that?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean said appreciatively; it was the salty-fried smell that had drawn him in in the first place. Well, that and the fact it was the only restaurant in walking distance that didn't have a plastic, nationally-trademarked mascot. "And a chicken salad sandwich and soup-of-the-day to go, please."

She rung it up, pushing actual round metal buttons on the old-fashioned cash register, when his cell rang. Dean fished it out absently as he watched her put some muscle into it, then got distracted by the beefy guy starting in on his sandwich. The mom-'n-pop places always were generous with servings, and the pile of corned beef was already making his mouth water. Dean flipped his phone open.

"Yeah?"

"Dean?"

Dean stared at the food a moment longer before Sam's tone sunk in. Slightly winded, slightly off. He slid his eyes away, handing a twenty to the cashier, then stepping away from the counter while she wrestled with the change. "Sam? What's going on?"

"I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry."

Oh, that really didn't sound good. Dean waved away the change and stepped outside the shop into the relative privacy of the awning-covered sidewalk. "Sorry for what? Sam? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry,"Sam repeated, voice breathy and on the verge of cracking, and considering he'd been standing firm and foreboding between a spirit and a briefly dazed Dean the night before, the difference was striking. "After last time…Dean, I know you loved her…"

His stomach dropped into his shoes at that, and Dean reached out unconsciously to brace a hand on the back of a bench nestled against the wall. This was about Mom? He wasn't sure he was ready for any conversation like that, not with Dad's death so fresh. "Sam," he barked, "quit pussying around and tell me what's going on!"

"I'm sorry, Dean, I was being careful…"

His mind flashed through possibilities: some ritual gone wrong? Sam getting into something over his head? He couldn't…he couldn't really have tried something with Mom, right? They'd just been to visit her grave, but it wasn't like she was in there… "Sam, what—?"

But something caught his attention, had been tugging at his subconscious all along, Dean suddenly realized. Soft, pained pants, interspersed by occasional stirrings and hitches of breath. Even as Dean frowned, focusing more closely, he could hear Sam suck in a breath, the moan that followed nearly sub-vocal.

"What's the matter with you?" he demanded. That was why Sam sounded about ten; that was why Dean's shoulders had hunched up around his ears, his body reacting before his mind even recognized the cause. A fresh wave of fear flowed over Dean, a drenching of cold. "Sam, answer me—are you hurt?"

A pause, the uneven breathing reined in a little. "There's blood. My head…"Sam sounded almost puzzled.

Dean swore. "Tell me where you are."

A sobbed breath. "I'm sorry, Dean, I'm—"

Dean rubbed his forehead, hard. He really didn't want to hear any of this right now, nothing but what would get him to Sam fastest. "Sam, listen to me, I forgive you, okay? Just tell me where you are."

More breathing. Dean paced a tight circle, jumping a little when someone rapped on the window next to him. Cashier Mom held up his bag with a smile. Dean shook his head tersely and turned away.

He was about to call for Sam again when his brother's voice returned, only a whisper.

"We're in the water. Road just…caved…"

We? Oh, crap. The "she" suddenly made sense now. Dean's hand dropped from his head, clenching into a fist. "You ran off the road? Sam?" He'd just been on a milkrun, checking out some carvings on an old tree a mile or so out of town while Dean got lunch. He quickly ran through the geography of the area in his head. "At the bridge? You ran the car off the friggin' bridge?"

Sam groaned. "I'm sorry…"

Dean's eyes were already darting up and down the main strip, seeking a way to get out to the old bridge they'd passed on their way into town. A few vehicles were parked along the small street, one of them, in front of the hardware store, a tow truck. Dean stalked toward it. "Sam, listen to me, can you get out of the car safely?"

There was some movement, another groan, more harsh breathing. "Door's bent."

"Try the other one," Dean said tightly. He pushed the hardware door in, eyes sweeping the place.

A small whimper made him cringe, then he heard the creak of his baby's hinges. They sounded louder than usual, and the mechanic in him was already calculating how she was hurt, what would need work. Dean ruthlessly switched the deliberation off; he couldn't think about that right now.

"Sam?"

"'M out."

"Good. Now, climb up on the bank, out of the water, okay?" There. The guy's hat had the same logo as the tow truck. Dean strode down the plumbing aisle, already tucking the phone under his chin and digging for his wallet. "Sam?"

Scratching and swishing sounds filled his ear. It took Dean a moment to realize Sam was using his hands to climb, phone still tightly clenched in one. Dean took advantage of the lull to stop next to the tow-truck guy and wave a handful of twenties in his face. "I need a ride."

Tow-truck guy instantly set down the plunger he'd been fondling and, face brightening, plucked the money from Dean's hand. "Sure, Mister, anywhere you want."

"Dean?"

"Sam." He led the way out of the store, attention fully back on his phone. "You okay? Are you out of the water?"

"Dean, I'm sorry." And just as he closed his eyes to calm himself down before he growled at Sam to stop it, Sam's voice changed, deepening, aging into the Sam he recognized. "You just fixed her up again after I broke her the last time. I'm sorry, man, should've seen it coming, should've saved you and Dad—"

He stopped so suddenly, tow-truck guy ran into his back.

Dean was pretty sure he gaped a little. Felt the ground fall out from under his feet and clenched the phone so hard it hurt.

And was suddenly transported back in time fifteen years.

00000

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"Why?" Instantly suspicious.

"I tried—" A hiccup. "I tried to be careful with it."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "Aw, dude, tell me you didn't."

"It's…it's just a little tear. It won't ev-even show…"

"You said you'd take care of it, Sam! That's why I let you borrow it." Dad's jacket, of all things—Dean should've known better, but Sam had given him that look…

"I know, Dean, I'm sorry. I'll p-pay for it."

"You can't—" Dean suddenly ground to a halt. Wait. It was more than guilt, or even fear of his big brother's wrath that was making Sam's voice tremble. The kid was trying not to cry. "Sammy," he asked cautiously, "how'd it get torn?"

Another hiccup-sob."I tried to run faster, Dean, b-but they caught up to me. I'm sorry…"

Dean's anger instantly changed course, subsumed for the moment. "It's all right, Sammy, it's just a stupid jacket. Just tell me where you are and I'll come get ya. Everything's gonna be fine, okay?"

And after a shaky breath, his brother's voice, full of faith. "Okay."

00000

"Sam." His voice was so rough, he had to clear his throat. "Sammy, you listen to me. None of that was your fault. The car, dad, me, none of it. I don't blame you. Well, maybe for the car this time, but we'll talk about that later. Right now, all you have to think about is pressing down hard on anything that's bleeding, and staying awake until I get there, you got me? Do you hear me?"

A short pause, Sam's breathing loud in his ear. Then, weakly, "I'm bleeding, dude, not deaf."

It might as well have been a small but trusting okay.

Dean finally exhaled, sliding into the passenger seat of the tow truck. "I'll be there soon."

The thought of the car still made him cringe, but it and the jacket were just things, replaceable. He still had his brother, and the belief Sam still seemed to keep in him. Those were what mattered.

He just wasn't going to let Sam drive his baby again, ever.

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