Hey guys, challenge fic to the word 'Skin' although i'm using the challenge word as the eppy 'Skin' because OMG
-Falls down stairs- It's a classic...with angsty early season fighty-ness
So No spoilers you'll be glad to hear!
Summary: During/ After the events in 'Skin' Sam and Dean find it harder to trust. Brotherly conflict, fluff, Limpness I guess. Challenge word 'Skin' double drabble. 200 words.
Okay- after reading through, I couldnt let it go without adding more- SORRY! so its kinda' a triple drabble...because im that awkward!
Or ya know...maybe even longer than that...I got carried away and this refused to leave or be cut down, believe me I tried!
So sorry for breaking the rules yet again, the fic wanted to be left...and I had to stop only when it felt right. :D
WARNING: This fic may cause you to re-watch the episode 'Skin' because omg...that eppy is too waaaaay good! -Beams-
Sam barely heard the word over the dripping pipes and the beating of his own heart in his ears. It was unmistakably Dean, but...
"Sammy that you...?" Again, the voice drew to Sam to listen, to answer.
Sam's heart quickened. Was this just another sick trick? Was that really Dean? His Dean?
Sam swallowed. "Yeah...Dean?" He was hopeful, fearful.
An audiable sigh. "Yeah man, It's me...are you okay? Did that bastard touch you?" His big brothers usual sarcasm laced with concern.
Sam circled his jaw, it stung but otherwise he was okay. "No, no...I'm good, you?"
"Nahh man ya' know me...all good." Despite Dean's grunt of what Sam thought was him trying to break free, Dean sounded like usual fine Dean.
There was a pause.
"Can you get free?"
Sam struggled, like he had for the past god knew how long. He wasn't getting out. "No..." A little forced.
"S'okay Sammy...I'm coming...hang on."
Sam heard the ropes being roughed over something and heard each fray snap, until Dean was shuffling out of them and a hand graced Sam's shoulder from behind.
"Whoa...easy Sammy, it's me..." Green earnest eyes. Thank god.
"Just get me outta' here..." Sam breathed and let Dean use a knife the shifter left on one of the tables to cut him loose, the rope around Sam's neck was removed and then his arms and torso.
"Looks like you weren't going anywhere the way that thing got you tied huh?"
Sam stood, facing Dean, a deep sadness in his eyes. "I...I thought he was you...only for a moment, I let him get the drop on me..."
Sam hung his head.
Dean's hand reached under Sam's chin and lifted so their eyes met. "S'not your fault Sammy...Ya know when he knocked me out, He was you...I thought it was you but...guess it's not our smart day huh..."
A gentle pat on the back. "C'mon lets go fry this sucker." Dean grabbed his jacket and the removed items from his pockets, knife, phone, lighter. "He's worn our faces dude. You do not get to do that to a Winchester and live.
Sam tried the door, it pushed open with a squeak.
"Beck? You home?" Sam tried to sound casual, slowly moving into the house, gun cocked at his back.
Dean had run off evading the cops, Sam had told him to meet at Becky's...but Sam had a niggling doubt Dean had gone after this thing all by himself.
Urge and dread filled him and he shouted a little louder.
He jumped at the voice just beside him and hid the urge to draw his weapon.
Sam spun from the other side of the doorway and gently shut the front door. "Are you alright?...we heard about what happened..." He stowed the weapon, approached Becky.
"No, I'm fine Sam, thank you. At least I know now it couldn't have been Zack." She smiled warmly.
Sam glanced around. Why were all the lights off?
"Have you seen Dean, he was supposed to meet me here." Sam's bad feeing started to get worse.
Becky shook her head. "No...I haven't seen him..." She started up the stairs and urged Sam to follow.
Something caused goosebumps on the back of Sam's neck so he stayed on alert, something just felt...off.
Becky indicated Sam have a seat on the couch and went to get two beers.
She stood behind Sam. "Maybe he went to that arsenal you have in your trunk...find some more silver to kill me..."
Sam's shoulder tensed, head cocked to the side. Panic starting to shake him because that was-
"Well done Sammy..." Dean said "I like wearing your brother...he's much more fun to manipulate."
Strong lightening fast hands reached around Sam's throat and pulled him flush back against the couch, Sam's head rested on Dean's chest as he squeezed with leather clad sleeves.
"Gah..." Sam couldn't get a grip to pry the shifter off, he could disturbingly smell Dean's leather.
Sam grasped at Dean's arms, trying to find leverage and push off. His airway was getting tighter and black spots teased Sam's vision.
"...No...s'stop...please..." Sam gasped in much needed air but Dean simply yanked Sam up and backwards further over the sofa. Gravity taking part in haltering Sam's escape.
Kicking out with his legs Sam caught the coffee table and knocked it topside down, the glass smashing as he struggled for air.
"Bet you never thought your brother would do this Sammy..." Dean's voice taunted at Sam's left ear and he graised his face over Sam's hair, caressing him almost lovingingly as Sam struggled.
Harsh wheezes were the only breaths Sam could manage now, eyes clenched shut, and teeth snapped together Sam desperatley opened his mouth to breathe but no air flew in and his lungs burned, felt like they were deflating on him and he couldn't bring any life to them.
His struggles slowed and the grip around Dean's arm loosened and dropped to Sam's side as the shifter lowered an unconcious Sam to the sofa. Softly tucking a strand of hair from his eyes.
"I love it when they fight back...you're a keeper dear Sammy." Shifter Dean stroked Sam's face as he grabbed the coils of rope.
"We gotta' hurry Sam went to see you." Dean pulled Becky free, his nerves rattling as his brain came up with images and scenarios of Sam and the shifter.
Becky nodded, scared, disorientated and shaky but followed Dean.
Sam awoke to choking pain in his neck. It felt like swallowing burning coals, like sandpaper had replaced his lungs and every lungful hurt.
"Nice of you to join me Sammy. How do you feel...?" That was Dean's sickly wrong voice talking to him and it made his skin crawl.
Sam wheezed in a breath and took in his surroundings. Okay. Floor. Rope. Wall behind. How the hell do I get out of this one...?
"Fine...as long as being starved of oxygen is alright with you..." Ow...that hurt. Sam coughed to try and clear his sore throat but that only made his chest ache.
"Good, as long as you're not dying. Yet." The shifter shook off Dean's leather and flexed it's muscled arms, gripping a knife it kneeled down before Sam and stroked the blade over Sam's cheek and down his jawline. "Such a pretty hunter."
The shifter using Dean's voice just made Sam feel sick.
As soon as the blade was lowered Sam swung his head forward and collided with the shifters nose, the knife knocked free and Sam dived for it, even with bound hands he could grip it.
Shuffling along carpet with your hands and feet coiled in rope was harder than he thought and reaching the knife he only managed to grip the handle and free his legs before he was tackled from behind and the knife skittered under the pool table and into another room.
The punch to his side while Sam was down deflated him, flat on his stomach made him curl in and try to roll away "Ahh..." when strong inhuman hands lifted him by the collar of his shirt and rammed Sam into the bookcase.
Sam fell on his hands and knee's, panting and shuffling away from the shifter.
Dean already had his gun out and aimed, the front door easily opened and then Dean heard a crash upstairs, he heard Sam cry out and more thuds on the ceiling that matched his own racing heart.
Dean took the stairs three at a time, Becky close behind.
The light above the pool table smashed and a shower of glass nipped Sam's exposed cheek and neck and he rolled, off the side of the table for support and gripped the wall, hand's still bound by thick rope.
Dean was snarling, and Sam actually felt fear, he knew it wasn't Dean but looking at the shifter it was. That was Dean's fighting to the death look and his heart picked up speed and he lost the surge to fight, how could he fight Dean.
The shifter sniffed, rubbed an arm under his nose and licked his lips. "You ready to die Sammy...?"
Sam took a step back, bound hands raised straight in front of him, palms out. "Stop it...I didn't hurt you. Why are you doing this...?"
The pool cue was thrown to the side and Dean advanced on Sam. "Your kind has hunted me...made me a monster. How do you like it when you're hunted!?"
"You're not Dean." Sam left the wall's protective back and edged between a large doorway, the sofa behind him, the shifter in front. "Just end this..."
"Oh, don't worry I'm going to end you Sammy...Your precious brother will be on the run his whole life..."
"No..." Sam swallowed.
The shifter lunged and Sam didn't have time to choose. It caught him under the ribs and they lifted over the sofa and tumbled with a bone jarring thud on the broken coffee table.
Glass dug in Sam's back but Dean was staring down at him, eyes full of hatred and Sam actually tried to escape that gaze, it hurt to look at.
Dean has never been so mad with him...NO...it's not Dean. It's not.
A harsh punch had Sam's thoughts reeling and another dazed him.
Dean's own hands gripped just under Sam's jawline and pressed down so hard Sam felt like his head would explode.
Teeth clenched, and eyes open and seeking any kind of mercy Dean just smiled down at him. Sam's hands weakly batted at Dean, his arms and his shoulder to push him off but still tied together Sam couldn't affectively gain any leverage and the world was slowly tainted black as Sam's heart beat echoed in his ears, Dean's sadistic smile all his eyes could focus on as he pressed harder, muscles bunched and Sam choked back a sob.
He had to choke back crying out to Dean. Because it was Dean doing this...how could he possibly save him when he was the one committing the action.
A sigh parted Sam's lips and his eyes slid shut. His bound hands still held up against Dean's shoulder meekly pushing.
Dean kicked open the door at the top of the stairs, he saw Sam sail over the sofa and land with a loud thud and the shifter as himself strangling Sam to death.
When the shifter didn't loosen his grip and Sam was choking, Sam was fucking choking, he couldn't breathe and Dean could've cried at how weak Sam looked trying to fight the other- him off.
"I said HEY! You son of a bitch!"
Dashing around to the side of Sam to get a better shot and not accidentally shoot Sam, he saw Sam's eyes close and cold anger flooded him.
"GODDAMNEDSONOFABITCHFUCKINBASTARD!" Dean fired once, twice, and carried on until the clip was empty then he reloaded and kicked the sonofabitch aswel, rolling it away from Sam he shot unil the trigger didn't click anymore.
Heart pumping, breathing in huge lungfuls, Dean leant down to Sam who Becky was currently crying over and smoothing a hand through his hair.
Sam looked too still, too silent.
"Sammy?...hey buddy...you in there?" Dean croaked. Breath hitching.
Dean felt for a pulse, sighed in relief and patted Sam's cheek. His chest rose and fell, slowly but damn, it was there and a flutter dashed behind his eyelids.
"Sammy?...C'mon man, open up..."
Dean's flat hand, palm down rested over Sam's chest for the familiar comfort he was breathing, thank god.
When Sam's eyes first opened, he squinted and gasped, tried to roll away from the pain.
"Hey, hey man, stay still let me look at you..."
The familiar tone shot Sam's bloodshot eyes open and he tried to squirm away, Dean's hand remained flat, pressed down to still Sam.
But still, Sam's raw strained voice chipped his heart.
"No...no...Stop it please...Dean..."
"Sammy...s'okay...it's me...really me." Dean's other palm cupped Sam's face and he felt Sam's eyelashes flutter against his thumb.
"Dean?..." Sam strained. His face was bruised, his nose, lip and cheek smeared in blood.
"Yeah man, it's over..." He nodded to the side where Sam saw the shifter, face staring deathly at the ceiling. Sam sighed and closed his eyes against the dead Dean.
Dean tugged Sam's bounds up and started cutting the tight ropes. Sam had to look away from Dean holding his hands and a knife like that so soon.
Getting Sam up and out of the house proved a little more difficult, he was swaying in and out of conciousness, bloody scrapes and scratches covered most of his face and his throat was slightly swollen and red, the darker blues and blacks of bruising just starting to show.
Breathing was still painful but Sam was alive, he was okay. That was a win.
"You ready to blow this town man...?"
Sam glanced to Dean, thought he saw a shimmer grace his eyes but it was just the sun, he had to hold back a worryful look.
Sam shook his head. "Yeah...yeah. Let's get outta' here..." He sighed.
He had to stop the nervous looks he threw Dean's way now and then, not to fucking flinch when Dean reached over him or touched him.
Sam ran his hand over the leather beneath him. This was real, Dean's car, not a shifter in sight. It was back to normal.
He leant back, started to close his eyes and breath in familiar air.
Things had gotten weird back there, it's not like Sam didn't know it wasn't Dean, but the way he'd spoken sometimes, and his eyes, god. It was like a mirror to Dean's. Sam couldn't shake the feeling that maybe Dean did harbour dark thoughts about what he really thought of him. He was a burden, letting the shifter get the drop on him twice, for not ending it sooner. That Dean had to save him all the time must get frustrating.
Sam took a deep breath.
"You should probably take something for the pain now dude. You'll be sore when you wake up if you don't."
Dean didn't sound like anything but worry and care and big bro-ness.
"Th'nks." Sam whispered.
"I know you uh...you might freak out or overthink everything that douche did and said but man, I just gotta say, he was you, and let me tell you...he was not you. No matter what I know my little brother."
Sam was quiet for a moment.
"Don't go thinking I wouldn't save you, I always will Sammy."
The end. Sorry it like turned out into an actual fic...The shifter threatened Sammy I had to comply.