A/N: thanks for the follows, favs & reviews :) please drop by some more reviews! My mum had surgery a week ago & we are still in the hospital. I decided, hey, nothing better than to write a hospital fic in a hospital! So hopefully this will be realistic because I've volunteered with nurses before & we've been around nurses all week. Enjoy!

Warning: Angst. Emotional angst.

As soon as Sam finished his exam, he unlocked his phone and checked his missed calls. He'd received two calls from the hospital during his exam, and he hadn't been able to pick up. Quickly, he dialled back the hospital number, entering Dr Secksy's extension number.

"Hello, Nurse Carrie speaking from Dr Secksy's clinic." The nurse answered. "How may I help you?"

Sam bit his lip nervously as he made his way back to residence as quickly as he could. "I had two missed calls from your office, but you hadn't left me any voice mails. I was just worried. Has anything new happened to Dean?"

"You must be Sam Winchester." Carrie observed. "Yes, I did call you twice. Dr Secksy had asked me not to leave you any voice mails, as he'd rather I spoke with you directly. According to Dr Secksy, you were supposed to come sometime this week, am I correct?"

"Yes, yes." Sam replied. "I booked a ticket for today. I should be there in several hours at the most."

Carrie, although Sam could not see her, nodded. "Very well. It's good you called back then. Are you free? I need to speak to you about something before you come here."

Sam inhaled slowly and made his way to a bench by the sidewalk. "Yeah, I've got time. Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so, yes." Carrie sounded sorry. Sam closed his eyes; he knew it. He knew the doctor had hid something from him. "Dr Secksy told you that Dean had come in with several gashes and a broken wrist, am I right?"

Sam nodded. Then, remembering she couldn't see, he rasped, "Yes."

"Dean's gashes had been severe, but we took good care of them. His wrist is also almost perfectly healed now, since it's been four months." Carrie explained. "However, what he did not tell you was-"

"Four months?" Sam interrupted. "Four months since what?"

"Since Dean's accident." Carrie paused. "I thought you'd known, I'm sorry. Four months ago, Dean was brought into the emergency. He was in a really bad condition, and we had to put him under an induced coma for several weeks. Two months ago, he began waking up, but only recently did he finally become fully aware. Dr Secksy refused to give you the details after hearing you had finals coming up, but you must know before you come here."

Sam felt dizzy. Four months ago? Wasn't that the last time Dean had called him? Sam had felt guilty since he hung up on Dean, and was waiting for Dean to phone back, since Dean always forgave him. He'd forgotten about it, however, when Dean did not call back for a month or two. Fucking idiot. What an idiot! Dean hadn't been lying when he had told Sam he needed help. All for the sake of a party-A damned party.

"Sam? Are you with me?"

"Yeah." Sam snapped out of it, rubbing his temple warily. "What else happened?"

Carrie sighed on the other line. "There was a very thick metal pole embedded into Dean's right thigh."

Silence.

"And?" Sam prompted.

"And it had reached the bone, I'm afraid. We considered sewing the bone back into place, and give it time to heal, but an infection had spread before we could do anything. We couldn't, unfortunately, save his leg."

More silence.

"Are you trying to tell me that my brother's leg is amputated?" Sam asked, his voice rising. "Why had you not told me earlier? Does Dean know?"

Carrie was silent for a moment. "Sam, you must calm yourself. If you are this angry, you will be of no help to Dean and we will not allow you to see him. Do you understand? This is very serious. Yes, Dean does know. He found out six days ago, and he has refused to speak since. He barely eats or drinks, so he's living on an intervenus fluid intake. He is refusing to cooperate with the nurses. It's crucial he moves. The fluid can be very harmful for him if he does not move."

Sam felt his eyes sting as Carrie spoke. "I'm sorry. I'll calm down. You know, Dean has always been there for me. I won't leave him, not when he has to go through this. I promise. Can you give me the floor and room number please?"

"He's in the fourth floor, room number 213. First, however, you must let one of the nurses know that you have come. They will alert either me or Dr Secksy. We need to be with you when you go in to meet him." Carrie said. "Have a safe trip. I'm glad you could make it this soon."

Sam wanted to snort. This soon? Dean had been alone for four months. And now he lost his leg, too. But one question kept prodding at Sam: where was John? "Yeah, yeah. Thanks. See you later."

He hung up, shoving the phone down his pocket. What a dumb, stupid idiot he was. He dropped his head into his hands, rubbing the palms over his eyes to stop himself from crying. Great job, Sam. Great job.

"You must go easy on him." Dr Secksy told Sam. "The nurses and I have tried everything we could to get him to say at least one word. This really worries me, as the last time he spoke he'd said he would have rather died than lose his leg. You must let him know that losing a leg does not mean his life ends. There are many options for him, and he will heal over time. The only way he will not heal is by having a negative outlook on the situation."

Sam nodded, gulping worriedly. "I understand."

"Sam, I must repeat. Go easy on him. He's in an extremely sensitive state right now, and any word you slip out may have a very negative affect on him. You must be very careful. I cannot stress this enough. It was clear that Dean is a strong man; both physically and emotionally. But anyone who goes through something like this will have a hard time. Especially for someone like Dean, who insisted his life relied on using his legs. I can understand, considering how well built he was. He clearly used to have a job that required strength. And so, for him, losing a leg will be even harder. We do not care how long it takes for him to improve, as long as we see him improving." Dr Secksy stressed. "Alright?"

Sam nodded again, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly. "Is he awake?"

"Yes." Dr Secksy looked at Sam again before he walked down the hall to Dean's room, opening the door slowly. "Dean? I am coming in." He gestured for Sam to go inside with him.

Dean was lying on his back, pillows propped up behind him. He didn't look at the doctor when he entered the room, and instead seemed to be focused on his hand, which, to Sam, was clearly swollen.

A nurse, who had walked in behind them, walked up to Dean. "How are you doing today, Dean?" She asked, smiling. "Did you have any of your lunch? Dinner should be coming around in an hour." She looked at the food tray, shaking her head. "I take it you didn't eat anything." She shrugged helplessly to Dr Secksy.

"Dean." Dr Secksy called again, moving to stand closer to him. "We'd like to have you try and go to the washroom today, alright? Having a catheter around for too long, Dean, is very unhealthy for you. Also, this fluid is building up inside you. Not moving will not allow you to pass it down. You're very swollen, and this is not good. We don't want any fluid entering your lungs."

Dean shifted a little to his left, but did not look up. Instead, he just closed his eyes and completely ignored the doctor. Dr Secksy turned to Sam. "This is one of his better days. He's been having emotional breakdowns almost daily, and nothing puts him out of it but a sedative. He's calm now."

Sam looked away. Seeing Dean this vulnerable in itself was bad enough; hooked up to IVs, an oxygen nasal tube inserted to help him breath, and, of course, what he couldn't see from below the covers, the missing leg. He bit the inside of his lip as his breath hitched. He'd promised the doctor he'd stay calm.

"Dean?" He called out. Dean did not respond. Sam made his way over to him, sitting onto the chair to his left, where Dean was facing. Dr Secksy nodded as he and the nurse left the room.

"Dean, it's me, Sam. Sorry, I tried to come earlier, but I couldn't make it." Sam said. "How are you feeling?" A dumb question coming from a dumb brother, Winchester. "I mean, you have to eat. The doctor said it would help you."

Dean still refused to acknowledge Sam's presence. Sam leaned back in his chair crossing his arms as he looked at Dean and began to babble on, hoping Dean would respond to him. Somehow, however, he found himself fast asleep.

"Dean Winchester, stop this. You must calm yourself."

Sam awoke to the loud voices of several nurses, all hovering around his brother. His heart monitor was beeping. Sam stood up, leaning in to get a closer look. Dean looked bad.

His breathing was shallow; he was taking extremely short breaths through his mouth, breaths that clearly didn't reach down into his lungs. His eyes were extremely watered, and some tears threatened to spill from the corners. Dean was sat up on his elbows, trying to do god knows what. He looked at the nurses, almost pleading with his eyes for something.

"Dean," Sam placed his hand over Dean's, "Dean, what's wrong?"

For some awful reason, this only seemed to trouble Dean further. His breaths soon grew to sound like wheezing, and the nurses finally decided to sedate him again. Dean slumped back into bed after a while, some tears rolling down his cheeks.

Sam looked at Dean. Aside from the swelling, Dean was visibly thinner. He turned to the nurse. "Is he going to fall asleep now?"

"No, we just gave him something to calm him down. It's dangerous that we keep putting him to sleep every time he goes through this. Though, I'll tell you, this time is different. He seemed stressed like usual but I feel there's a health risk. When he calms, I'm going to have a listen to his lungs." The nurse explained. "I'll be back in around ten or fifteen minutes."

Sam nodded as the nurses left the room, one by one. He sat back in his chair and looked at Dean. "Dean, please. You're not going to improve if you stay like this. You heard them. You have to eat, and move, and drink. You can't do this to yourself."

Dean, at last, looked at Sam. But when Sam was about to smile in relief, he saw something in Dean's eyes that he did not like. Dean looked at him with a mixture of anger and... fear? Hatred? It was not something Sam liked to see in Dean's eyes. Keeping their eyes locked, he held his brother's hand again. "Like the doctor said, Dean, your life is not over because of what happened. Don't let this take over you, please. I'm going to be here. I'm not going anywhere."

But Dean wasn't listening to him. He appeared to have drowned too far into his own thoughts.

(About 20 minutes earlier)

Dean looked up at the figure of his brother on the chair beside his bed. Sam's eyes were closed, and his arms were crossed. Dean furrowed his eyebrows. Why was Sam here? Had he not asked the doctor to not bring Sam?

Those bastards. They didn't understand, did they? Sam would be ashamed of him. What would Sam tell people? I have a disabled brother? If anything, Sam had hated him when Dean was well and strong, so how would he feel now? He would despise Dean. Now that Dean could not hunt alone, Sam might feel obligated to help him. Even if not for hunts. Dean would generally have to rely on someone, and he wished it wasn't Sam.

Sam would be a lawyer one day. He would have money, a great house, a great wife and great kids. And his kids will be scared, of their Uncle Dean, who walks around with one leg (or wheels around, if he used a wheelchair). They would hate him, fear him. Kids at school would bully them: "Isn't your uncle the pirate? Maybe we should take out his eye next!"

He felt his eyes water. He always knew Sam would have a great family, and that he would barely be involved, but he'd always planned to occasionally visit, to take out Sam's kids to fun places so they'd await his next visit. He had so many activities planned for them, and now... Now he would never be able to do it.

Why couldn't the doctor understand? Losing his leg really was worse to him than losing his life. After all, he was Dean Winchester, was he not? His life was worthless. He always risked it to save other people's lives. But losing his leg? Hunting was his life, and now he'd have a difficult time hunting. And if he did not hunt, would he find a woman to love him and marry him in this state? Very unlikely. Plus, he would not be able to raise his kids like others. They would be scared to call him their father. They would shy away from him in public.

So his last option was being the uncle, but even that would not work out well.

John Winchester would be so angry.

Dean cringed. What if Sam spoke to their father? What if he'd called him and told him that his eldest was now of no use, and asked him what to do next? What if John had yelled at Sam, asking how the hell Dean was dumb enough to get himself into this situation?

His breathing was speeding up, and he was unable to catch up with it. He felt his chest begin to ache whenever he tried to breathe in. Attempting the slow breaths the doctors kept talking about-inhale from your nose, hold your breath, exhale from your mouth-he found he was unable to do it. He was not taking in any air.

Although it hurt, greatly, Dean pushed himself up to his elbows, trying to take in any breaths. The oxygen being forced into his nose only seemed to disrupt his breathing further. He could barely time his breathing with the enormous amount of oxygen being shoved down his lungs. He coughed, hard, and pressed the nurse button on the side of the bed.

Two nurses rushed in, immediately coming to help Dean. He continued to cough, as he felt it was even harder than before to take in any breath. His eyes watered again from the pain and the lack of oxygen. A third nurse came rushing in with a sedative, like usual. He did not even feel the sting as she injected it into his very swollen arm.

He closed his eyes, trying to relax back into the bed. His breathing was slowly starting to even out. When he felt his muscles relax, he tried to inhale through his nose, to time his breathing well.

A while later, he heard Sam talking. He opened his eyes groggily, looking down at his right leg beneath the covers. The way the covers dipped mid-thigh always made Dean nauseous. He looked up again, his eyes meeting Sam's. He could not place his finger on what Sam's emotions showed. Worry? Annoyance?

"I'm not going anywhere." He heard Sam say.

Maybe not right now, Sam. He thought. But you'll get bored of me eventually. And you'll be the first to leave me.

Again.

Please please review! I tried to put so much effort into conveying the right emotions from either brother, and I wanted to stress how Dean thought and stuff. In the next chapter, there will be more action 8)