"Sammy, dude, just because you went to Stanford doesn't mean you know everything. Why are you fighting me on this?"

"Why are we arguing about this even though I have the proof right here?"

They had been driving for almost six hours. And they had the obvious symptoms of cabin fever. When they had stopped for gas and food an hour ago, Dean had selected a bag of skittles and had it sitting between them on the seat so they could share it. Now, Sam was holding it and inspecting all of the labels, ready to put the argument to rest. He sighed, "There are no blue skittles in here."

"Bullshit!"

Sam gave his brother an exasperated look. "What do you want me to do? Dump the bag out and organize all the colors?"

"Yes. But clean all of it up after you're done. I don't want to find melted candy all over the seat later."

Dean never saw it coming. They were going through a small town at the time of night when the traffic lights are blinking lazily. He went right through the light at the exact same time as an eighteen-wheeler. The bigger vehicle t-boned the Impala, moving it sideways and out of the intersection. They slid to a stop and both settled, creaking as parts fell off and glass broke. Then, there was silence.

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

When Bobby's phone rings at four in the morning, it's only for three reasons. One, a hunter needs help with research or advice. Two, Sam and Dean are sick of each other and need someone new to talk to. Three, something bad has happened.

So when he answers it, on the inside he's chanting, Let them be alright.

"Is this Bobby Singer?" the woman's voice was no-nonsense, straight to the point.

"Yes, who are you?"

"My name is Sarah, I'm from Wyoming Medical Center, in Casper, Wyoming. I'm calling because two young men were just brought in. One of them told us to call your number."

Bobby closed his eyes before asking, "Is it bad?"

"I don't have all of the details of their conditions. Will you be able to get here to talk with their doctors?"

"Of course. I'm leaving my house now."

He hung up and threw some clothes and such into a bag. He called Rufus and told him where he was going, and that he should handle any other hunters that may need help. He got into his truck and tore out of his salvage yard, already mapping out the fastest route in his head.

It took him seven and a half hours to get there, when normally it would take almost nine. The nurse at the front desk told him to wait for the doctors to come out to talk to him. Luckily, it only took twenty minutes for one of them to appear.

"Mr. Singer, I'm Dr. Markus. I've been in charge of Dean's care since he arrived," he introduced himself.

"Was he the one that told you to call me?"

"Yes. He was awake long enough to tell us that before he passed out. He's recovering from surgery and will be for the next hour, at least."

Bobby nodded. "Do you know anything about Sam?"

"No, I've been with Dean since they got here."

The older hunter sighed, but continued, "Can you at least tell me what happened?"

"They were in a car accident. They were hit by an eighteen-wheeler and the driver was the one that called it in."

"Excuse me, Mr. Singer?"

Bobby looked around to see another doctor had approached him. She said, "I'm Dr. Laurel. I'm in charge of Sam's care."

"I'll let you two talk," Dr. Markus said. "I have to go see how Dean is doing."

He walked back into the ER and Bobby asked Dr. Laurel, "How is he?"

"He's aware of what happened, but in and out of consciousness. He suffered a broken arm and several deep lacerations that required stitches. You can come see him now, before we give him more pain medication."

She lead him to the right room and left the two of them alone for the moment. Sam was elevated just enough so he could cradle his right arm against himself, which was wrapped in a white cast. He had a bandage across his temple, covered partially by his hair. He was resting his head back against the pillow.

"Heya, Sam," Bobby called out softly.

The youngest Winchester tipped his head towards the familiar voice. He opened his eyes and muttered, "Bobby?"

"It's me, boy. How are ya feelin'?"

He answered with a wince as he tried to move his arm. "Have you...seen...Dean?"

"Not yet. But I'm headed there next."

A nurse came in and gave Sam his much needed pain meds. Bobby sat with him until Dr. Markus showed up. Bobby went out into the hall with him and the doctor said, "We've moved Dean into the ICU. The surgery went well, but it's too soon to tell. You can come see him."

Dean was too still, too quiet. It broke Bobby's heart to see him like that, hooked up to numerous machines and monitors. The nurses had just finished changing the bandages on his torso, leaving him shirtless. The bandages covered most of his left side, the side that had taken the worst of the impact. He had stitches at his hairline on the same side. What made Bobby stop and think was the bruises on Dean's right arm. They covered it from the elbow down and stood out against his pale skin. Assuming Dean had been driving, Bobby thought, He must have put out an arm to protect Sam.

Shaking his head, Bobby said quietly, "Don't worry, I've got Sam. Just rest and get better. I know that as soon as he can, he'll be in here fussin' and threatenin' the hospital staff. So enjoy the peace and quiet while you have it."

He wanted Dean to open his eyes, sit up, assure him that he was fine, and then storm off to find his brother. But he didn't. Bobby sighed and looked up as someone knocked on the doorframe. Dr. Laurel said, "We need you to come fill out some paperwork for them."