IT WAS YOUR VOICE
By: Karen B.
Summary: Season Seven spoiler warning for 7-1. Yet another short tag to add to the pile. Missing scene between the time of Sam's collapse and getting to Bobby's place.
Disclaimer: Not the owner.
Rock on Season seven!
I rubbed a hand down my face, not liking the pinchy stubble on my skin. I hadn't bothered to shave in days. Too busy alternating between trying to fix Sam and the Impala. Both of them were a mess.
The Impala looked as if she had been hit by a speeding train and Sam's major meltdown had crumbled his brain into dust, as if someone had stepped on a friggin' crouton.
He'd been through hell once and now was going through hell again and again and again. Going through that pain and the torture and the punishment- for all those years- and still going strong.
"It's never over, is it, Sammy?" I dropped my face into my hands; this was killing me-killing us. I wondered how Sam ever even found the strength to get off that cot. I imagined him waking up alone, to nothing more than a note and a gun. I imagined him dragging himself out of the panic room and up the steps. Kid could have broken his neck. Winchester's wobble and they do fall down. How in the world did he even get behind a wheel? Drive for hours. And to top it all off, stood and tried to fight in the shape he was in. It was nothing short of shocking.
Guilt tugged at my gut and I pressed deeper into my hands trying to escape the images. I should have locked him in that room. I'll never forget watching all that hell being crammed back into his head-yet agian. How he looked at me and sobbed. How his knees folded like they'd been bashed with a sledgehammer and he dropped to all fours, hand slamming down and picking up a huge chuck of glass.
And what did I do? I hesitated, unable to think for a split second. To see Sam in pain, his life in danger, yet knowing there was not a damn thing I could do about it…sucked ass. His mind was mobbed and stuffed full of hell. All I could do was try to keep him from face planting the rest of the way down to the glass-covered floor. I'd dropped to my knees next to him, grabbing his shoulders and cupping his chin. He was already totally out of it. Breathing too fast and his skin had turned white-on-white and so cold under my shaking hands. I could feel his vulnerability seeping through my fingertips along with his blood.
"Jesus, Sam." I winced.
His eyes were open wide, but he was unresponsive, not hearing my panicked shouts. Hell was hitting him from every direction. Pushing and shoving Sam back down into the pit, far away from me, and I couldn't stop his slide.
"Sammy, no! Don't," I cried, adjusting him in my arms and clutching him closer. "Just don't." I shook him hard, and then slapped his cheeks roughly. "Don't you ride that ride, brother, don't you do it."
But I knew it was too late. Sam had already gotten on that mountainous space rollercoaster. He titled his head back; eyes still open wide and made a strange burbling sound deep in his throat that was somewhere between my name and a sob.
"Take it easy," I muttered, sweeping hair off his forehead.
"D'n," Sam annunciated a little more clearly.
""It's over. It's all over," I lied through my teeth.
"Nuh." He arched his back, reaching for a hold of my jacket, but he was too weak. His injured hand couldn't grab hold and began to tremor. Before I knew it, all Sam's limbs were jerking sporadically in my arms.
"Hold on. Hold on." I gathered Sam to me, trying to keep him steady as he squirmed.
The racking seizure didn't last long as the light in his eyes flicked out and they rolled back to show their whites.
"Damn you, Sam! Damn you anyhow!"
My brother had flipped the shop sign from open to closed, that quickly, and all I could do was wrap my arms tighter around him and hold on tight. Desperately trying not to lose it myself as the acid lining of my stomach bubbled up my throat. From there on things got hazy. I couldn't move. All I remember was Bobby taking over. Physically pulling me to my feet, directing me as we drug Sam out of the building and found the car he'd somehow managed to drive over here, and get him and us, back to the salvage yard.
A terror-filled groan broke me away from my silent thoughts, and I dropped my hands to my lap, bringing my eyes up to Sam.
Sam's face was still white, and I could see the pain scrunching between his brows. His arms were twitchy and weakly flailing about, trying desperately to fight off something I couldn't see. Or maybe he was grappling for a hold of a lifeline. I couldn't be sure which.
"Sam!" I was out of my chair, standing over him and holding his frantic arms down as gently as I could at his sides. "Sam," I repeated, but he continued to thrash and fight, shoulders rising up off the bed a few inches. "Hey, hey, hey, come on now."
"No. No," Sam growled, wrestling in my hold, breathing out of control and refusing to open his eyes.
"Sam!" I called louder to him, still trying to gently subdue him before he hurt himself. "Sammy, please."
I must have broken through his hell as Sam's eyes snapped wide open and he stared right up at me.
"Guh," he moaned, darting wild looks around the room in confusion.
"Sam, do me a favor, man, and turn that open sign back on, buddy." I hovered over him.
Sam's gaze landed back on me, and I could see in his eyes how hard he was trying to figure things out.
"We're at Bobby's, dude," I said with quick nervousness. "You understand me?"
Sam nodded, seeming to follow along for the moment, though his eyes were murky. "Bobby's," he whispered, lowering his shoulders back to the bed and gasping.
"Ten-four." I tried to smile but really only wanted to cry. "You with me?"
"Mmmmm." Sam writhed to some ghost of a pain.
"Shhh." I ran a hand over his forehead trying to smooth the lines of pain away.
"Dean," he said woozily, eyes fluttering open and closed.
"Yeah, little brother," I sighed and sat back down in my chair and leaned in close.
"I heard you," Sam slurred, "It was your voice. Calling me." A soft puff of air left his mouth, "And I…and I came." His head drifted slowly off to one side, unconscious again.
A tear came to my eye. "And I'm going to keep calling you, Sam, until my dying breath, I'll keep calling you. And you, bitch… you better friggin' come every time I do! Just keep showing up, bro, and I'll take care of the rest. I swear."