Fight and Lose
So this is what I do in my spare time.
I OWN NOTHING. I WISH I DID OWN IT. But I don't...sigh...
This is something I wrote after watching the Benders. I saw one tear on Dean's face and this set me off. If you have the DVD...Like me! Look it up...be careful though. Look real close and you'll see it. It's just when the knife is held to his eyes. Tried to make it as real as possible.
Dean heard the gunshot. It echoed like it had been in a cave. It echoed in his head. Sam had been the target of that shot. A lone tears rolled down his cheek.
'I let him die'
He vaguely heard the father yelling to the shooter. But all he could possibly think about was his failure. His little Sammy had been shot and had been killed. Now his body would be used as a trophy, they'd take pictures of it. Then cut him up and use his bones as decorations for their squalid house.
'What a spectacular way to fail Dean!! Well done…idiot'
"Something's not right" the father's voice broke Dean from his thoughts.
He looked up, watching the other son pick up two rifles. He handed one to his father.
"Missy, you watch him now" the father commanded his daughter before stalking off.
The daughter turned to Dean, twisting a knife in her fingers. Her face twisted into a sadistic grin as she held the knife up to his eye; ready for the slightest sign to dig his eye out. Dean let his lips curl into a snarl.
'Sammy might still be alive'
But he was stuck. Tied to a chair.
Now he knew Sammy would die. Two other professional hunters were after him. Sam wasn't his normal self either. He'd gone three days without food or water and had taken a nasty knock to his head.
Another tear slipped from his jade green eye.
'I can't do anything to help'
There was silence for a while, the silence was good. It meant Sam hadn't been found, that he still had a chance of survival. That he was still alive.
Dean could almost feel his brother's heart beat. A steady rhythm that entailed his brother's living status. It was soothing, comforting. Giving him something to hang onto, to allay his buzzing nerves and bouncing legs. Terror could be laid to rest with the steady thud.
It was a comfort that he wished would never leave.
But this link was severed when three gunshots rang through the air. Dean sat up straight, terror over whelming his conscious self suddenly without that small thud, thud.
Missy looked away from her ward, although the knife dangled just below his eye still.
A small whimper escaped the fortress that was tied to the chair.
There was noise downstairs. Disturbing noises of thuds and thumps. Yells and screams. Almost like a struggle.
Until two more gunshots silenced everything.
The daughter now left her charge and wandered over to the grubby window. What could Dean possibly do while tied to a chair. He was whimpering like a baby.
Another gunshot sounded; accompanied by a cry of pain and anguish.
A cry that tore from the throat of Sam.
Dean cried out too; almost in harmony; his cry of pain and anguish almost matching his brother's.
Except Sam's cry died into the night quickly, as Dean's was more fulfilled and longer.
The final gunshot was barely heard as Dean's cry faded into great heaving sobs that wracked his aching body. The shot was nothing more than a whisper into the howling wind inside of him. He dropped his head and wailed, full of angst and sorrow.
The daughter glowered at his, listening as his wail increased an octave.
The pain intensified as reality sank its poison teeth into his fragile heart. Upon impact it shattered and the wail sank to a barely audible whimper.
It was the end of the Winchester's long journey. And how it stank of irony that it was ended by the thing they strove so hard to protect.
It felt like Dean had been slumped in the chair for hours, still whimper and sobbing.
But it had been a total of two short minutes.
The daughter stiffened as the front door creaked open. With a quick patter of feet, she left to great her victorious family.
While Dean had lost his.
His little Sammy had been torn form him, ruthlessly, brutally.
So inhumanly for a human that it was almost demonic.
He knew that he should never have let Sam go outside on his own. He sould have had one more round.
'Why did I let him out that door?'
There was a muffled scream from the front room.
Sounded like a scream of delight.
Probably was, probably had dragged Sam's body inside.
Dean could see in his minds eye.
Covered in mud, blood cascading from a hole in his chest. Eyes open, glazed and empty.
Sam's….no….no. Not that. Anything but that.
The very thought made sour bile rise into Dean's throat.
Some one suddenly brushed past him and Dean thought he heard Sam's lyrical voice whispering his name
But it had to be a delusion.
Sam would never speak again.
The person was probably the son, gonna get him on his knees and shoot him execution style while he stared down at Sam's lifeless corpse.
He felt his hand limply slip to his sides.
He was momentarily free, he could get away.
But what was the point. What was left to fight for?
Who said Dean didn't want to die.
Cause he did.
The total numbness and lack of bodily feeling was terrifying. The feeling of detachment from the human world was not something he could sanely live with.
He couldn't even feel the burn on his shoulder when his arm moved.
It was best if he did die; he figured.
His mind had almost seemingly hit the kill switch. Like the gunshot and Sam's cry had over loaded his system.
He knew he was crying, but he couldn't even feel that. He must have been crying silently.
Tears slipped down his grubby cheeks, cutting a path through the blood and dirt that had accumulated.
But all that was secondary.
The only thing that matter was that Sam was dead.
But instead of being hauled to his feet and shot in the back of the head.
Two soft hands clamped onto the either side of his head.
A voice began to speak, but the words were too soft to hear, too run together.
He looked up, but it was almost like he was blind. He could see, but his brain wouldn't register the images.
He sat there, broken; like a toy that had been used up and then snapped. Then set on the shelf and forgotten about.
The voice seemed to become more worried, high pitched. But not louder.
'Just leave me alone. Leave me be. Let me Die'
Only he wasn't left alone, the person kept talking.
Something stroked his cheek, brushing away tears.
The touch was so soft, so warm, so familiar. That it provoke a choked sob from Dean.
It erupted from his insides like a pressure release.
But the simple sob seemed to have broken a wall inside him and the voice finally became clear.
"Dean? Dean can you hear me? What's wrong?? Dean?!"
It sounded so much like Sammy. Like his little Sammy was right with him.
That couldn't be right,
Sam was dead.
Dean blinked once and more tears fell, as memories flooded back to him.
'What a chick flick moment'
"Here's your brother Dean. Your little brother." John said. Looking up at his father; Dean could see that he looked exhausted. Exactly like Mommy. What had happened? It looked like they had been playing wrestling for a long time. Except Dean hadn't been invited.
Maybe the baby had something to do with it?
John leaned down and gently unloaded the small blanket wrapped bundle into Dean's little arms.
He looked down at the baby and found that the little bundle was actually human!
He seriously thought it was gonna be an alien that he'd have to get rid of.
Except it was just a tiny little kid. A little pink bundle, so warm and cute.
Its huge brown eyes opened and stared up at him. A small smile spread across its pink little face and it opened its little mouth.
Dean fell in love with the little bundle and suddenly found himself rocking it back and forth.
"Can we keep it!" he said suddenly.
Mary and John laughed.
"Yes we will keep him." John said.
Dean looked down at his little brother and touched noses with the baby.
"Hi…I'm your older brother Dean. What's your name?"
"Yeah Mary….what's his name?" John asked.
Mary was silent for a minute.
"Samuel. I want him to be called Samuel. Sam for short" she said.
"Sammy" he announced.
Dean looked back down at his newly named baby brother.
"Sammy. Your name is Sammy." Dean said and the baby snuggled up to Dean's tiny chest.
There was an abundance of memories that were flung back into his mind.
When he'd carried Sam out the front door.
Away from the fire that consumed their mother.
Dean had been determined to save Sammy, keep him safe. Ever since that day he'd felt that familiar tug of protectiveness.
Sam's first day of school. How Dean had walked him in the gate and the surprised and excited squeal that he gave.
Sam's pet name for him.
Then the massive fight that had resulted in Sam leaving for college.
The scream, the yells. The projectiles thrown at Sammy.
It had been terrifying for Dean, even at 24 years old. He'd sat in the kitchen, head in his hands; wishing that it would all just stop.
By the time he'd sat up, Sam had left.
Dean had chased him down, ran through the mud and the rain and whatever had been in the way.
Then gave him all the money that he had.
'Come home. Dad didn't mean it. Just come back.'
'No, I'm going Dean. I'm sorry. But this is my choice and I've made it. Goodbye'
The moments following Jessica's Death.
How Sam had been so empty and sad.
How crushed he was, all that pain he was in.
Dean understood that now.
But the worst part was when Sam looked at him
His pleading eyes begging him to make it all better. Make it all go away.
Like he was the only one that was left in the world.
'Can't we just get a room together. I don't wanna stay here. Please Dean.'
The pleas of 'I don't wanna be alone' he ripped Dean's heart out.
Three months ago, he'd almost lost Sam.
He'd almost died in their old house.
So close to being strangled that Dean couldn't have been more panicked.
The way his eyes had rolled blindly, his skin pale and the heat draining from him. The blue tinge of his lips and fingers. How he fought for breath, but lost.
Again and again and again.
It wasn't until Dean had kicked a hole in the wall and broken the spell, was he able to help his ailing little brother. He'd un-wound the cord as quickly as his shaking hands could allow. Sam had taken a wheezing breath and it was the most relieving time of Dean's young life to see his brother take a breath in.
He'd gathered Sam's half conscious body in his arms and squeezed him tight, willing him to take those breaths of oxygen in.
He had needed to feel Sam's heart still beating. He needed it so bad.
He's almost lost Sam.
Now he had; the pain was indescribable.
The insistent voice ate at him. It sounded so like Sam that it caused the tears to flow faster and thicker.
But something prompted his depressed mind to allow this person a small peek.
Allay their worries that yes he was still alive.
And no, he didn't want to talk.
His eyes cleared for a moment and his brain registered the figure that was kneeling in front of him.
It was Sam.
It was his little brother.
Whether it was a grief induced delusion, or the real thing Dean didn't care.
"Sam?!" he choked the word out between gasping breaths.
Sam nodded eagerly.
"Yeah Dean! It's me." He said.
There were tear marks on his cheeks. Had he been crying?
'Of course he would! He's a girl!!'
All feeling smashed back into Dean's consciousness.
He relished the burning pain from his shoulder, his throbbing head.
His heart beat, his thoughts, the warm salty tears that were sill rolling down his face.
Most of all the warmth of Sam's hands on his face.
The eerie connection was back.
He could feel Sam's heart beat, he watched every breath Sam took in and completely lost himself in the moment.
He wrapped his arms around Sam's middle and pulled him close.
Desperate to feel the almost feverish warmth of his little brother's body. It seeped into his frozen body and warmed his very soul.
"Oh Sammy! You're okay" he whispered, squeezing his little brother's solid form.
Dean could feel his brother's arms around his shoulders.
Sam didn't say a word. He didn't have to.
The beating of his heart against Dean's own life pulse was more than enough.
For once in his life, Dean didn't care. He didn't care if he lost his composure.
He needed Sam in his arms.
He NEEDED it.
Just to make sure he was alive and that he wouldn't slip away from him any time soon.
A small laugh rumbled inside his chest.
"Don't ever do that again" he warned.
Sam chuckled as he rubbed his head against his older brother's neck, his soft hair making Dean smile.
"I'll try. I promise" Sam muttered.
Okay...what did ya think. Be kind by the way...
Its not easy being a Supernatural Fan when you live across the world from it.!!!