Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural".
Author's Note: So I had this idea after watching the last episode about Sam trying to fix the Impala for Dean, but I just wasn't sure how to write it or if I even could. Then I read Silver Kitten's tag to this episode, and I was so inspired I had to try one of my own. So here's my attempt.
Sam heard the first stroke, so audible even inside the garage, the agonizing sound of hard metal hitting metal, the crunch and crack of the car he and Dean had called home for so many months now. And he froze, unable to watch Dean break like this, unable to actually witness the shattering of the unflappable, unstoppable big brother who had handled their mother's death and bullies and vampires and thunderstorms and scary dogs and poltergeists…but not their father's death, no matter how hard he had tried.
Huddled against the wall, every stomach-turning hit another pounding on his heart, Sam pressed his shaky hands against his face. A soft hand on his arm brought his eyes slightly above his fingers to view Bobby standing in front of him, eyes full of sympathy.
"I don't know what to do," Sam found himself admitting softly. "And I hate myself for that." Blinking back tears at the next crash, he wrapped his arms around himself.
"Maybe you're doing exactly what you need to do." Glancing out the window, Bobby turned his attention back to Sam. "I think he needs to get this out of his system."
"But the car…he loves that car…" Sitting down hard in the chair Bobby pulled towards him, Sam nodded gratefully before staring back down at his hands. "He's breaking…"
Bobby said nothing as the racket from outside finally halted, the next sound being running footsteps and a slamming door. Taking a deep shaky breath, Sam stood up to his full height, uncurling his fists and heading for the door. "I have to fix this."
"Sam…" Bobby trailed off at the resolution trailing down in tears down Sam's face. "How can I help?"
"I need some tools."
Stretched out on the couch, Dean felt so numb, like he could just slip away and lose himself completely, and it wouldn't matter. But then he heard a loud "Damnit!" coming from outside, followed by a sigh and the distinct clatter of a wrench on metal. Shrugging back into his jacket, Dean walked outside to be met by a pair of long legs stretched out from under the Impala.
Before he could say anything, Bobby appeared from the garage, carrying a large toolbox. "He wouldn't let me trash the car, you know," Bobby said simply, following Dean's gaze to Sam's now-oil-covered jeans.
"What?" Dean turned quickly to face Bobby.
"I wanted to trash it. It looked completely broken down, destroyed, but Sam said you wouldn't want that. Sam said you loved that car, and as long as one part was still working, that car wasn't going anywhere." Sighing softly, Bobby placed the toolbox in Dean's hands. "That boy has no clue what he's doing around a car, but he's trying to fix it for you." With those words, Bobby headed back into the garage, leaving Dean and Sam alone.
"Shit!" The wrench dropped to the ground again as Sam swore again. Dean strode over and picked the wrench back up, handing it to Sam. "Thanks Bobby."
"Sam, its Dean." At those words, Sam pushed himself out from under the car, looking up at his big brother from flat on his back.
"Hey," Sam said softly. For a moment, there was silence, then Dean knelt down next to Sam.
"What are you doing, Sammy?" Dean sighed softly, picking up a screwdriver and tossing it lightly back and forth between his hands.
"Fixing things," Sam answered resolutely, clutching the wrench as if terrified Dean would take it away. "I'm fixing things."
"Sammy…" Sitting down hard on the ground, Dean stared down at the oil spots trickling into the dirt. "You can't fix everything."
"I can fix this." The tremor in Sam's voice forced Dean's eyes upward, and there were those six-year-old puppy dog eyes, and Dean never could say no to Sam like that.
Reaching over, Dean extracted the wrench from Sam's grasp, and before Sam's heart had time to drop out of his chest, Dean had slid closer to the car and applied the wrench to one of the oil leaks. "Ok," Dean whispered, not trusting his voice to hold up, not wanting to break in front of Sam like that again.
"Dean…" And when Dean turned Sam grabbed him, quickly, suddenly, wrapping his arms around him and clinging to him, burying his face in Dean's shoulder, in the familiar jacket and smell and comfort. And Dean dropped the wrench, and pressed his arms around Sam's back, and let a few tears trickle onto Sam's shoulder. Just for a moment, but it was enough. "We have to fix this, Dean. Because I can't lose you too. I'd be too broken to ever be fixed, ok?"
"We'll fix this," Dean assured him softly, then pulled back to reveal that Dean smirk, and Sam grinned so hard Dean had to laugh. "But you need to learn a few things about cars, Sammy."
"I'm here," Sam answered strongly, picking up another wrench, never dropping his eyes from Dean's. "Teach me."
Both brothers peered under the car, Dean gesturing emphatically with the wrench before showing Sam exactly where to put it, and though neither had any idea how long the repairs would take, they knew that someday, they would fix things.