Title: I Know.
Word Count: 690.
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean. (Gen)
Warnings: Spoilers for 6.13.
Beta: Nope, none. All mistakes my own.
Disclaimer: Man, if I owned these boys…
Summary: Missing scene from the very end of 6.13, Unforgiven.
"I'm just trying to make you feel better. Don't be a bitch," Dean said as he sat down on the dilapidated couch and started to throw things into his duffle.
"Yeah… I'm fine."
"Yeah, you look fine," Dean said offhandedly. "All I'm saying is that everything is going to be okay."
"I don't know, Dean," Sam said from the other side of the crumbling wall. "If I did this here, then who knows how many other p-,"
Dean heard the thump, before he saw his brother laying there, convulsing on the floor. "Sammy? Sam?" Dean took the few steps needed to reach his brother. He grabbed Sam's jacket and shook slightly. "Sammy, talk to me."
It was clear with Sam's gasps and his wide eyes that Sam wasn't there. Body, yes, but his mind was somewhere else and fuck… this was exactly why he hadn't wanted to continue with this job.
He maneuvered so Sam's head was on his lap and placed his palm to Sam's face. The kid was burning up. "Oh god, Sammy…" Dean was at a loss what to do, so he just held on and watched while his brothers arms flailed and he moaned. A second later Sam yelled out a bloodcurdling scream.
Everything went still after Sam screamed and Dean just looked down at his brother and cursed. "Shit. I told you, Sammy. I told you not to scratch."
His brother's face was red hot and his eyes were no longer open. He was unconscious.
Dean crawled behind him and pushed him up by the shoulders, so Sam's back was to his chest. His head flopped back onto Dean's shoulder and he could feel the burn of Sam's cheek. "Sammy?" he said again and just held him tight. He wanted to move him to the couch, but even if he could lift his gigantor brother, he was scared to move him.
A moment later Sam drew in a gasped breath and bucked in his arms. His eyes flew open and he began to tremble violently. His head turned sharply from side to side as if he was looking for something.
"Its okay, Sammy." Dean wrapped both arms around his brother's chest. "It's okay, I'm here. You're safe."
"Ahh, ahh…" Sam moaned out loudly. "Fire, fire. I'm on fire!" He started to sit up, but Dean pulled him back into his embrace, this time making sure he had a strong hold.
"No, Sammy, you're not on fire. You're here. It's okay. You're okay."
Sam fought him, trying to roll over. His breath was ragged, heaving and gasping for air like an asthmatic.
"Sammy, stop!" Dean ordered, tightening his hold into a death grip. "Come on, Sam, calm down, okay? Come on, breathe with me." He lowered his voice to as close to soothing as his panicked state would allow. His brother was hyperventilating. "Breathe, just breath with me. Come on, Sammy, you can do it. Just breathe."
Sam sucked in a shuddered breath and then went limp in his arms as he tried to comply.
"That's it… That's it, Sammy. You're doing good."
It took a few minutes, but finally Sam was breathing in sync with him. He was still trembling, but not as violently.
"They set me on fire," Sam said softly, a few moments later. He let out a small sob as he turned his body into Dean's.
Dean repositioned himself. He'd figured from the heat in Sam's cheeks that that was what he was remembering. "Yeah," he whispered. "I know." And he did know. He was probably the only person on the face of the earth, who could understand. Truly understand.
Sam's sobs turned into full blown tears as he clung to Dean tighter. "Don't go."
Dean felt tears well in his own eyes as he buried his face into the side of Sam's neck. "It's okay, Sammy. I'm here now. Not going anywhere. I got ya," he choked out. "I got ya."
AN: Short and with no plot, but I just really needed this to be cannon. It was… At least in my mind.