Summary: Dean is having nightmares about Sam. Is he sharing some of Sam's gift or his he being attacked by something out of his control..
A/N: This is my first Supernatural FanFiction. I welcome all reviews including constructive critisism. I'm not really sure where this will be heading but if you like it let me know and I will keep writing even if one person requests it. Let me know if you think I have gotten into the minds of the boys at all..
Disclaimer: I do not own Sam, Dean or the Supernatural story but if I did..
Warning: I rated this T to be safe. It has some swearing and might contain a typo here and there.
He opened his mouth to scream but his voice betrayed him. His body was shaking uncontrollably and he found his breathing labored. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't.
Dean Winchester looked down on the crumpled form of his younger brother Sam. Dean had been trying to resuscitate Sam for over forty minuets now to no avail.
"Come on Sammy. You can do it, just breathe. Please just wake up!" Dean pleaded pushing on Sam's broken chest repeatedly. He placed his head on Sam's chest, trying to hear any noise to make his brother's life known to him. "Please Sam don't do this! I don't know what I'll do without you. You have to wake up now. Please Sammy!"
Dean wiped away tears that he didn't even know he had shed. He sucked in a deep breath, pinched Sam's nose, and let the breath go into Sam's open mouth recommencing the CPR. Sam's head lolled to the side slightly every time Dean pushed down hard on his brother's chest.
Dean looked down at his brother. Sam's face was covered in cuts, bruises and dirt. Where there wasn't an injury his skin was a light shade of blue. His left shoulder was a weird angle most likely dislocated as was his left knee.
Another thirty minuets passed as Dean tried to frantically bring his brother back from the dead. Dean pushed down again hard then collapsed, lying next to his bother physically and emotionally exhausted. There was a voice in his head telling him that Sam was dead and not coming back. Dean knew the voice was right but he just didn't want to believe it. This was all his fault.
It was his fault they had come on this hunt, to this fucking house. It was his fault Sam was lying next to him dead. He was supposed to look after Sammy. That had been what he was supposed to do since John Winchester had put Sam in his arms as a child. He had failed. He had failed his father, himself but mostly Sam.
Dean stomach muscles tightened causing him excruciating pain. Instinctively he grabbed his stomach and pushed hard against his pain but the withdrew his hands. I deserve this. I need to be punished. This happened because of me. This happened because I'm too weak to stop it. Crying uncontrollably dean searched the floor surrounding him blindly with his hand. All the injuries he had been ignoring because of his adrenaline rush and instant need to help Sam more than himself had finally started hurting. Good! I wish it was more, let it come. I deserve this.
His hand closed around something cold, hard and metal and he pulled it into his view. Inspecting his sawed off shotgun he opened it easily. It was loaded with one silver bullet. He clicked it closed and looked over at Sam. One of Sam's eyelids were open and his dark eye was looking right at Dean.
"I'm so sorry Sammy. I really am. I failed you but don't worry it wont happen again. I love Sammy." Dean said in between choking breaths. Half of his ribs were practically shattered and one of his lungs might have been punctured too for all the luck he was having with controlling his breathing he guessed. He reached over and closed Sam's eyelid. He planted a soft kiss on his baby brother's forehead noting the coldness of Sam's skin against his lips. Dean raised the shotgun to his right temple and squeezed the trigger.
"DEAN!" Sam yelled slapping his brother hard across the face. He had been trying to wake his older brother for a couple minuets now, talking, yelling and shaking hadn't worked so the only thing left in Sam's mind was to slap him, or throw cold water over him but he knew which Dean would prefer.
Dean woke with a start. He had tears streaming down his face, his entire body was drenched with a film of hot sticky sweat and he was shaking. Dean sat upright at super speed not noticing his brother sitting next to him and almost knocked him off the bed entirely. His body screamed at him for moving so fast and he began feeling lightheaded. Blinking away black spots that had appeared in the corner of his eyes Dean sat hyperventilating, his hand across his chest.
His dream flashed before his eyes within a second. Sam! Where the hell was Sam?
Sam looked as Dean's eyes darted around the room quickly until they found him. His brothers form visibly relaxed but he was still hyperventilating somewhat. Sam snapped into action. "Hey Dean its ok. It was just a nightmare. Your fine now, I've got you. It's all over now Dean. I'm here. Just breathe." Sam cooed while resting his hands on his brothers shaking shoulders, forcing him to look into his eyes.
Dean calmed down considerably and wiped the tears from his eyes. He was slowly regaining his composure. Building his hard outer shell back up. He coughed cleaning his throat and laid back down on the bed.
"I was doing some more research on our next gig and I could hear you moaning so I figured you were just dreaming about Jessica Simpson or something but then your started screaming and thrashing. I've been trying to wake you up for the last few minuets." Sam said concern in his eyes. Sam monitored his brother the way only a Winchester or a doctor could. Checking for any change in Dean's breathing and overall manner.
Dean stiffened. It was one thing to have a nightmare like that but it was another thing to display the weakness of letting Sam know he wasn't the perfect older brother he expected himself to be.
He straightened sitting back up, leaning his back against the bed head. He was still tired and sore from their previous hunt. His ribs were bruised, his ankle sprained and his eyes were still burning from the smoke of the house Sam and he had burned down a few days earlier. Trying to rub the sting from his eyes Dean decided it was time to get back to work. Three days of sitting around doing nothing was driving him crazy. Recuperation Sam had called this shit. Bah! Recuperation can go to hell. I've been a hell of a lot worse than this before and still didn't slow down. Not when people are dying out there and while there are supernatural things out there causing havoc. And I'm defiantly not going to stop until I find the thing that killed Mum.
"So geek boy, what'd you find out about our next gig?" Dean smirked back at his brother.
"Nothing that we didn't already know. The witness accounts all say the same thing. A huge black thing shaped like a dog but apparently to big to actually be one. Long claws, sharp teeth and red eyes. So far the only sightings have been on a full moon. I'm thinking it's safe to call this one a werewolf." Sam informed his brother still worried about him. Dean obviously didn't want to talk about it so he would let it slide for now.
"Okay well we're here," Dean said pointing to their map, "and we need to be here before the next full moon which is two days. It's a three day drive but with me at the wheel we should get there with time to spare." He grinned.
Sam smiled to himself. With Dean behind the wheel of his precious '67 Chevy Impala he could cut any normal trip in half. Dean was out of bed and was sorting through his pile of clothes on the floor. He pulled out an old Metallica t-shirt and the usual pair of jeans he wore, grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom.
Packing his bag and stripping the beds of the crummy motel they had been staying in Sam listened to his brother singing Black Sabbath's Paranoid in the shower. This is going to be a long day.
Ok so that was the first chapter of my new story. Hope your not to disapointed. Please review to let me know what you think or how I can make this better.