Disclaimer: i own nothing yada yada yada. The torture...
A/N: this is just a little something i thought i'd write in my free time. Just a little something to help with the supernatural withdrawal...
Enough from me. Here ya go!
Missing scene from The Benders
Dean looked at the empty motel bed beside him. The perfectly ironed and flat sheets taunted him, and the pillow sat innocently at the top of the bed. They were unslept in and unused, whereas they should've had a certain lanky figure gracing their presence. He had subconsciously got a room with two beds in out of pure habit, and it was only when he had returned to the car to tell Sam to shag ass when he realised he wasn't there. Instead he had pushed everything away and absently picked up his and Sam's bags. He'd dropped his on the bed nearest the door, and thrown Sam's bag so it landed on its side somewhere near what should have been the bed Sam was sleeping in.
Sure enough, there had been times when Sam wasn't sleeping in the bed next to him, or even in the same bed as him, but it had never been on his watch. So he lay in his bed, knowing that it was his fault. That he'd let Sammy down. He'd dropped his guard and he shouldn't have had. So now his Sammy was probably lying in some god-forsaken hell hole that was freezing cold, alone and scared. Or he was being tortured, or he could be dead…..
Dean shook his head violently as if it would push away the thoughts that were bombarding his brain, and fisted up the bed sheets and clenched them in anger, hoping it would relieve some of the pressure that was suffocating his heart. When he thought about the people or thing that had stolen his little brother, snatched him away and had him bound and frightened, there was an insurmountable rage in his entire being and it consumed him like the flames that had consumed his mother and Jess.
He had pushed away the anger away lots of times that night, but now he knew that if he didn't let it out soon then it would most probably give him another heart attack. So he got up out of bed and looked at the lamp beside him in the soft glow of the moonlight that streamed through the curtains. He picked it up in one hand and stared at it as if it was the one who had snatched his brother. Next second it was it was smashed into tiny pieces as the ceramic base and light-bulb connected with the wall. The bedside table? Smash. The picture on the wall? Crunch. The curtains? Rip. The chair? A boom resonated throughout the room as Dean repeatedly hit it against the motel carpet, the face of the kidnapper sneering at him, its laugh bouncing off the insides of his head as it drove him insane.
A half hour and a mess of a motel room later Dean slumped on the floor next to Sam's bed, breathing heavily. His body and mind numb from shock. He didn't want to think about anything, because thinking brought back memories that hurt, creating images that burned, and produced thoughts that tortured.
Minutes passed that seemed like hours, as Dean sat on the dusty motel room carpet, staring out the now visible view through the window (since the curtains were somewhere ripped into shreds). Stars slowly rolled by, and Dean lost all traces of time. But even the stars could not ease his fear tonight, and soon enough he felt the loneliness creep upon his incomplete soul (for it was never complete without Sam), turning its normally bright glow and warmth into a shadow so cold and unforgiving that Dean shivered and shrunk in its presence.
He needed Sam whether he wanted to admit it or not, and it killed him to not know whether he was safe. He berated himself silently, concluding that he should know, and that he really shouldn't he sitting on this floor because it was giving him a numb butt and cramp that would be a bitch in the morning.
He slowly dragged himself off the floor, as his body protested against all his movements. He collapsed onto his bed, and gazed sleepily at the bed next to him once again, choosing to ignore the warm liquid in his eyes that was blurring his vision. He closed his eyes and laid perfectly still, his mind noting the missing breathing pattern that should be reaching his ears and lulling him into sleep.
He turned his tired eyes to the window and looked into the heavens.
In the coolness of the night Sam shivered in his cage and stared at the patch of moonlight on the floor that was coming from some sort of hole. He traced its path upwards and found the source. A little patch of missing wood let the moonlight stream in and allow Sam to see the stars. A part of him was missing, and it was in some crappy motel room. Sam couldn't stop the coldness that numbed his entire body, making him oblivious to the man in the cage next to him snoring slightly. He was desperately searching for his other half, seeking some sort of connection, and found it strangely enough in the heavens. He did not question it, and it reduced the cold somewhat.
He let a small smile ghost his lips, as he whispered into the night.
In Dean's fitful and unsettled sleep, a small smile passed his lips as he shifted and fell into a dreamless sleep.
there you go! all reviews are extremely welcome and appreciated as they light up my day:)