justprompts: Different
Dean blinked his eyes open to see his father leaning over him. He could hear a blip and the smell of a hospital permeated the air and probably he should be worried - but instead, he grinned widely. He felt good. All relaxed and everything.
"Hey there, Dean." John's lip was cut and there was a bit of a bandage around his wrist, poking out of the sleeve, but he seemed okay. That was good, wasn't it?
Oh. They'd been on a hunt. He smiled wider - it seemed appropriate. "Dad! What happened?"
"One of them circled around us and got to you before we could cover you. Guess it got you pretty good."
"Yeah? Can't feel a thing."
"Right." He glanced sideways and Dean lifted his head to follow that. Sammy was there. He smiled again and tried to wave, but there were things in his arm and he couldn't quite pick it up; and his sight grew a bit fuzzy and he dropped back on the pillow. "I'll go tell 'em you're up, if they need to check up on you or whatever."
"Okay."
"Sammy, stay here?"
"Okay."
It took a while for Sam's voice and closed-off body position to reach Dean's awareness. Or for him to register that they were indicating that his brother's not happy. Eventually, he frowned a little, and tried with the lifting his head a bit again.
"Hey, dude."
The twelve-year-old boy shuffled closer and sat by the bed. "Hey." He fidgeted a bit, then took a breath. "Does it hurt a lot?"
"Nope, not a bit." Dean grinned into the air. "I feel fine!" A few more blips on the machine. "What's got you all worried or whatever?"
"Nothing." Oh. Those probably meant his heart beating. Weren't they supposed to disconnect the machine now that he was awake? He couldn't remember. "It's just. I don't like when you're hurt. Or dad's hurt. Or I'm hurt. And we always get hurt, all the time. People don't go to hospitals beat up as often as we do. It's not right, Dean."
"But it's just what happens when we do our job, Sammy."
"Yeah, but... other kids got jobs, but they don't get hurt. And that's alright! What we do, what's it do, other than get us hurt?"
Dean blinked. "Hey, hey. Don't talk like that, Sammy. You know what we do. We get bad things down, so they can't get to other people who can't beat them like we can."
"But..."
"I'm okay, Sammy. Really. Just fine."
Of course, twenty-four hours later, he'd probably not have said it with such perfect persuasion, but... by then, Sam was back to doing what he was told and doing his homework and all of that. How things were supposed to be, right? Even if Dean did hurt all over. It would heal.
"Hey there, Dean." John's lip was cut and there was a bit of a bandage around his wrist, poking out of the sleeve, but he seemed okay. That was good, wasn't it?
Oh. They'd been on a hunt. He smiled wider - it seemed appropriate. "Dad! What happened?"
"One of them circled around us and got to you before we could cover you. Guess it got you pretty good."
"Yeah? Can't feel a thing."
"Right." He glanced sideways and Dean lifted his head to follow that. Sammy was there. He smiled again and tried to wave, but there were things in his arm and he couldn't quite pick it up; and his sight grew a bit fuzzy and he dropped back on the pillow. "I'll go tell 'em you're up, if they need to check up on you or whatever."
"Okay."
"Sammy, stay here?"
"Okay."
It took a while for Sam's voice and closed-off body position to reach Dean's awareness. Or for him to register that they were indicating that his brother's not happy. Eventually, he frowned a little, and tried with the lifting his head a bit again.
"Hey, dude."
The twelve-year-old boy shuffled closer and sat by the bed. "Hey." He fidgeted a bit, then took a breath. "Does it hurt a lot?"
"Nope, not a bit." Dean grinned into the air. "I feel fine!" A few more blips on the machine. "What's got you all worried or whatever?"
"Nothing." Oh. Those probably meant his heart beating. Weren't they supposed to disconnect the machine now that he was awake? He couldn't remember. "It's just. I don't like when you're hurt. Or dad's hurt. Or I'm hurt. And we always get hurt, all the time. People don't go to hospitals beat up as often as we do. It's not right, Dean."
"But it's just what happens when we do our job, Sammy."
"Yeah, but... other kids got jobs, but they don't get hurt. And that's alright! What we do, what's it do, other than get us hurt?"
Dean blinked. "Hey, hey. Don't talk like that, Sammy. You know what we do. We get bad things down, so they can't get to other people who can't beat them like we can."
"But..."
"I'm okay, Sammy. Really. Just fine."
Of course, twenty-four hours later, he'd probably not have said it with such perfect persuasion, but... by then, Sam was back to doing what he was told and doing his homework and all of that. How things were supposed to be, right? Even if Dean did hurt all over. It would heal.