Yay! First chapter of my new fanfic! :D Hope y'all like it! Sequel to I Hate Witches (for those who haven't read that one, you should before u continue here). So still set in Season 1 between the eps "Scarecrow" and "Faith".
Super stoked about season 7 FYI! It's amazing so far! I can't wait for next week's ep! Jensen Ackles is directing X3 YAAAAAAAY! I hope there's some brotherly love in it!
Also, BONUS that the remake of My Bloody Valentine is coming on SyFy 2nite at 9! Jensen is gonna be in it! YES! Can't wait!
*ahem* Sorry...please enjoy my new fanfic XD; I will try to update more often!
Supernatural: (C) Erik Kripke!
I OWN NOTHING! I only own this plot and Clare (I so want a black cat QwQ)
Bobby and John remained silent, watching with aching hearts and tearing eyes as Sam held Dean for what felt like ages. Their sobs merged together as they gripped each other in a tight embrace. Usually Dean strayed away from these chick-flick moments, but right now, he could care less. He needed the comfort from his baby brother. He couldn't hear or see him, couldn't even hear himself utter apologies and assurances to try and calm Sam down, though they did nothing of the sort for either of them.
The only sense he had left that could prove he was in reality and not in some kind of messed up dreamverse was his sense of touch. And although he had no memory of what had happened to him for the past three months, he could remember getting in a nasty tangle with a very powerful and seriously ticked off witch. He could remember how she had said she wanted some fun first, beating him till he was bent over double, gasping for air. His chest had hurt like a bitch; he knew he must have some good-looking bruises on his ribs, some of which might have been snapped in two. Then he found himself forced down onto an old, wooden chair, his sore, aching arms being forced behind him and bound tightly at the elbows and wrists with scraggly, thick ropes. His ankles had also been fixed to the front legs of the chair. A pain throbbed through his temples as blood seeped from the gash in his lip. He had found he couldn't open his left eye all the way, which meant he had a hell of a shiner. Dean also remembered a vile smell filling his nostrils shortly before he could taste it as the witch harshly forced his head back and poured in some type of black liquid. It had tasted like a mix between rotten eggs and moldy bread. He wanted to spit it out, but the witch held her hand tightly over his mouth, her index finger and thumb pinching his nose shut, so he had no way of breathing. The liquid swashed around in his mouth, burning the back of his throat, making his eyes water. But he couldn't get rid of it. Not while the witch had him hand-gagged His vision swam from the lack of oxygen, and he decided the only way out of this was to swallow the liquid. So he did. That was when he had passed out.
The next time Dean had opened his eyes, he was lying sideways across the bench of the frontseat of his beloved Impala. At first, he didn't comprehend how he had got there. Then he felt something warm and soft under his head, and a gentle stroking motion was making its way through his hair. He recognized the faint smell of the old cologne and the girly shampoo and immediately figured it out. Sam. Sam had saved him! He had found his big brother, killed the witch, and was now taking him to get help. Dean moaned and shifted slightly, causing the stroking to cease.
"Dean? Dean? You okay?"
Dean had answered with another moan, his sides aching unbearably. He felt like he was on fire, and he was sweating profusely despite the fact that he was was shivering
The hand that had been caressing his hair moved to his face, cupping his cheek. He had involuntarily moved his head into the touch, relishing the gentleness of the thumb moving in comforting circles on his cheek.
"It's okay, Dean," his little brother whispered, his voice sounding muffled and distant. "I'm going to fix you up when we get back to the motel. Don't worry."
If Dean had been in a more coherent, he would have retorted to a smug remark about his little brother's choice of words. But right now, all he could do was moan and groan.
The last thing Dean remembered was Sam getting him inside their motel room and gently depositing him on one of the beds. Then the world went black.
Now here he was, in his little brother's arms without a clue as to what had happened. It worried him. He suddenly gasped and jumped about a mile into the air when he felt something furry brush against his bare calf. He clutched even tighter onto Sam, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his back.
"Ow, Dean! It's okay! It's okay! It's just Clare!" Sam assured him, unaware about the fact that Dean had no memory of being regressed into a child. He knew Dean wouldn't hear him, though, but he couldn't help but feel a need to talk to his brother. It helped him keep calm on the outside while he was freaking out on the inside, unsure of what to do and how to help his brother. How would he communicate with him if he was deaf and blind? He would have to figure out something, and fast. But for the time being, Sam just gave his brother a gentle, reassuring hug and held him away, keeping him propped up with one arm as he outstretched the other, lowering it to the ground. He then clicked his tongue and waved his fingers.
"Clare, come here, girl," he called.
"Sam," John began, "it's a cat, not a dog. They don't come when you call them."
But once again, John was made a fool as Clare pridefully pranced over to Sam's hand, nuzzling her head against his palm. Sam gave him a quick glance and a smirk before returning his attention back to his big brother. He gently grasped Dean's quivering wrist, feeling the racing pulse under his fingertips. He then maneuvered Dean hand till his palm rested on top of Clare's head. Clare meowed and began purring. She licked Dean's fingers. The 27-year old flinched but soon relaxed as he recognized what he was feeling.
"Is...is that a c-cat?"
Sam then moved Dean's other hand to his face, setting it against his own cheek so Dean could feel him nodding. Dean let out a slow, relieved breath before he began petting Clare's head, then her back.
"Feels small, it's a kitten?
Sam nodded again.
"Feels so soft. Where'd she come from?"
Sam felt his throat close up. Dean didn't remember Clare. And if he didn't remember Clare, then he didn't remember the second childhood he had been given. Tears sprung up in Sam's eyes. Dean felt wetness on his fingers and turned his opaque eyes up towards where he knew Sam's face was.
"Sammy? You okay?"
Sam nodded again, but his tears betrayed him. But Dean surprised him by wiping them away.
"Sammy, why are you crying? You're scaring me, bro."
"Sorry," Sam whispered, grasping Dean's hand and giving it a tight squeeze.
Dean squeezed back with just as much affection then presumed stroking Clare's head. She climbed up onto his lap and laid down, enjoying the comfort, purring loudly and contently.
"We should get out of here, head back to the motel," Bobby suggested, breaking the tender moment between the brothers.
Sam nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but we should go to another motel."
Bobby didn't have to ask why. He knew why Sam's reason behind wanting to stay at a different motel. He knew that he had enough of Salem, and frankly, so did Bobby. He was more than ready to put this old-fashioned town in his rearview mirror as soon as possible.
"We'll head back to Bobby's and hole up there till we figure this whole mess out," John said.
Sam gave him a stern look, about to yell how they would fix this without hurting Dean even more, but closed his mouth. No use trying to pick a fight when his brother was so...vulnerable. He almost said weak, but his larger than life big brother was anything but weak; proving that himself more than once. And he'd punch anyone who dared say anything otherwise, even his own father. John hadn't said anything about Dean's prone state, but Sam knew that he was thinking it. He had lost his favorite soldier, when he had only tried to save him. Irony was a bitch.
Sam made sure his jacket was secured over his big brother before he moved his hands so he had one arm across Dean's back and the other under his knees. Clare moved to lay on Dean's chest as Sam effortlessly lifted him up. Dean gripped Sam's shoulder with one hand while the other held onto Clare.
"Whoa! Sam," Dean cried, his voice squeaking a bit. "Put me down! I'm deaf and blind, not handicapped! Damn it! Sammy!"
Sam had to chuckle as he followed his father and Bobby out to the Impala. Even dazed and confused, Dean still had to play the brave hero card. But not this time. It was now Sammy's turn to care for him, like he had been for the past three months. It seemed like he was going to keep the role as protector for a little while longer.
REVIEW PWEEZE! oAo :3 Gracias! It would be an honor if y'all also check out my other fanfics and give me ur awesome insights on them too 83