When You Are Confused
Summary: When you are confused, I will use little tiny words. A wayward ghost hunt and a concussed Sam can only make for one pissed-off big brother.
Timeline: Season Two.
Beta: None, all mistakes are my own
AN: I haven't been writing a lot lately, but then, a SH Challenge got me back into it again – and here I am. Did you miss me?
When You Are Confused
Sam blinked sluggishly. It was dark and he could barely see. Slowly, his eyes focused on the winding staircase sprawled out just above his head. Why am I lying on the freaking floor? His body gave a tiny shiver as it caught up with his badly aching head. He pondered the situation for a moment, his memories slowly falling back in place. A hunt- Bobby had sent them on a hunt? He blew out a weary sigh. Had that just been yesterday?
He stared in confusion around the empty room. Was that his legs splayed out above his head? He vaguely remembered taking a mad tumble down the stairs. No wonder I'm so damn uncomfortable – He shifted, a sharp pain flaring across his lower back and making its self known. It drowned out his throbbing head for just a moment as his face contorted up in the pain. Oh my God that hurts. He groaned.
Slowly, and with great effort, he lowered his legs back down against the dirty floor. His body turned uncomfortably, the exertion shooting sharp pains up his legs and down his spine. With his teeth clamped tightly shut, he scooted backward on his butt until he was lying flat against the floor his legs no longer up above his head. Out of breath from the exertion, he lay perfectly still and gulped down oxygen, mentally cataloging all his bodies' aches and pains. Okay, I'm okay…I'm okay…
He blew out a shaky breath and blinked to clear his waning vision. He pulled a hand up to rub against his aching head. Pulling his fingers away to see a warm, wet, tacky substance now coated his fingers. It made his stomach churn –Blood- He frowned as he stared at his covered digits, then quickly, he rubbed his hand against his jeans.
He looked around room in confusion and blinked to clear his foggy eyes. Where am I again? He really wished he could remember what had happened. His thoughts seemed confused and he couldn't seem to grab on to one. A hunt, check, an old house – check - my rock salt gun – He looked thoughtlessly around the dimly lit room. His unclear hazels fell to the shotgun that was now lying right beside him on the floor. Gun- - check. Slow reality seeped into his thoughts. A hunt with Dean – yeah, that was it - - wait –where's Dean?
His unfocused eyes skittered all around the empty room. No Dean? His heart suddenly thudded loudly in his chest and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. He heaved in shakily. He waited for his addled brain to catch up with his thoughts again. Where's Dean? His brows furrowed. Finally, he figured out that he needed to find his brother and he pushed up on his shaky arms. His body waivered as he attempted to set up. The world did a lazy spin and he swallowed down the bile that welled up in his throat. I got 'a find Dean.
He pushed to stand up and then swayed dramatically as he stood on jelly-like legs. His body didn't seem to want to cooperate with what he knew he had to do. He fell abruptly back down to the dirty floor – hard – and it sent fire up his spine into his throbbing head.
"Shit," he hissed out. Damn that freaking hurts.
He lay silently for a few minutes willing the pain to go away.
He closed his eyes. What was I doing again? He pulled in a heavy sigh – why can't I remember? Oh yeah. And with that, he pushed himself back up and finally made it to his feet, fully standing on his weak and wobbly legs.
He tugged in a stuttering breath.
Slowly, he bent at the waist and stooped to retrieve his displaced gun up off the floor. He hissed in pain, and then pushed to stand up tall.
Immediately the roar inside his head crested causing everything to suddenly go white with pain. Teardrops welled up to his eyes. He blinked them hastily back. Suck it up. He swayed and staggered, but managed to keep himself upright. He wasn't sure what hurt the most, his back, his head, or the tremendous urge he had to find his older brother. Dean would make everything okay.
And with that one thought, he blinked once, twice, three times and then, he placed one foot in front of the other and moved forward toward the long and winding stairs.
24 Hours Ago
The tiny road stretched into the trees and nothingness in both directions. It, the overpass for the highway, and the gas station were the only hints of civilization around. Dean pulled the Impala in next to a pump, hit the brake, and sat for a moment, his fingers tapping gently on the wheel. Where the hell are we again? He was tired, too tired; and the last hunt had worn down his resolve. Obviously it had worn his kid brother down too. He glanced across at Sam who was sound asleep against the passenger door.
The older brother sighed and rubbed one hand down across his worn out face. Hell, sure Sam was tired, he'd been dragging them both all over the freaking country for weeks and weeks and weeks. He knew he was pushing them both too damn hard, but, ever since their father had died, well, he had this unrelenting need to rid the world of every freaking evil thing that he could find. For some reason, he couldn't seem to help it, and he couldn't seem to stop. Unfortunately, for Sam, that meant dragging him across the countryside. And Dean felt bad about that, he really did, but not bad enough to stop.
They'd just finished up a hunt for a Rip-pa-roo in Paris, Tennessee not twelve hours prior, and now, here they were, in the middle of freaking Nowhere USA. Where the hell are we again? He looked around the first light of day attempting to reorient him-self, figure out exactly where the hell they were. He'd dozed in the car a few hours back, but he'd given up on any real sleep when Bobby Singer had called, told him about some ghost killing innocents out in the freaking sticks. Four people dead. This one couldn't wait.
The older brother looked across the bench seat at his sleeping siblings form. Unfortunately, as bad as he hated to admit it, he was freaking lost, and that meant one thing - he'd have to wake up Sam. The kid will love this and I will never hear the freaking end of it.
He rolled his blood shot eyes and blew out a weary sigh.
"Sam," he gripped the sleeping giant by the shoulder and gave the limp body a little nudge.
Sam's eyes blinked open immediately, looking wildly around the inside of the car. He scrambled in an attempt to get his fingers wrapped around his hidden gun beneath the passenger seat.
"Whoa…there….easy," Dean stated as he gave the kid a firm pat on the chest. "We just need some gas."
"What?" the sleepy eyed hunter mumbled as he dropped his head back against the foggy passenger window. Slowly, his tensed up body relaxed with his older brother's words. "You woke me up for gas?" He asked curiously and then let his eyes drift shut again.
"Sam," Dean pushed his brother's shoulder again, a little bit harder this time. "Where the hell is this haunted house supposed to be?" And there it is, yeah, that's right, I don't have a clue where we are.
"Just outside of Union City, on Highway 74," Sam mumbled as he struggled to open up his heavy eyes. Dean's previous words began to sink inside his head. What?
Dean yanked the car keys from the ignition. "And just where the hell is Highway 74 supposed to be?" he hissed. Damn it all to hell.
Sam's eyes suddenly darted open and he looked with puzzlement at his older brother's face. "You're lost?" he queried in confusion.
Dean huffed as the driver's door screeched open.
A cold breeze whipped inside the car.
Sam's lips curled up and he pushed to set up straighter, suddenly wide awake. Holy crap…Dean's lost?
"Whatever," Dean rolled his eyes as he exited the car. He dipped his head around and looked heatedly at Sam. "Just figure out where the hell we are and where the hell we're going would'ya, while I pump the freaking gas."
The driver's door slammed shut.
Sam smirked. This is good, too good. Dean admitting he is lost. He smiled widely, his face almost beaming as he thought about his older brother words. Man, I need to write this down in my things to remember book.
The younger hunter could hardly contain his mirth as he reached into the back seat and yanked the tattered atlas out. He tugged it down across his legs as he yawned. Dean is freaking lost! He grinned smugly and squinted down at the drawing of the state of Indiana, trying to figure out exactly where the hell they were supposed to be.