A/N: Hi everyone, thanks for coming back. Got some Sam and Dean goodness coming your way... ummm, well... sort of ;) A heartfelt thank you to all who have been so generous with your reviews, and thanks as well to the new followers and favourites, I appreciate each one! :)
Thank God. Dean. "I'm here, man. Just, just hold on, I'm coming to you."
Waves of nausea assault him as he in forced to slide instead of walk; slowly and languidly he makes his way across the length of the floor, his mouth dry; comparisons between him and a snake that slithers along the desert sand floating through his mind. Fucking concussion, messing with his noggin' big time. C'mon, just focus, a little longer.
That is not the way his brother is supposed to sound, ever. Rapid, shallow breathing reaches his ears as he meticulously travels towards the sound, inching ever closer and vowing, over and over again, to kill the fucking vampire that brought them to this; he'll take the bastard out, even if it's with his last damn breath. Fuck, too bad his bravado can't beat the shit out of his traitorous body right now; the two seem at odds and waged in a heated disagreement; his appendages weakening and the pressure in his head escalating with each drag he takes across the surface.
The light is dim and it's a fucking good thing too; its illumination just there enough to guide him to the outline of his brother's now twitching, shivering body directly ahead. Any sudden surge in the wattage and all bets would be off; would most likely reduce him to a puking mess, his head already making him feel like it's moments away from saying the fuck with this shit and deciding to spontaneously combust.
Dean's back is towards him, his body folded in on itself in some twisted foetal position, as it goes through a litany of painful movements; from tense, to shuddering, to slack and back again in the blink of an eye. He can only imagine what is coursing through his body, the sound of teeth gnashing together filling Sam with the unmistakable twinge of uselessness, his inability to take it away or to have prevented his brother from being reduced to this shell shaking him to his core. He breathes deep and wipes the moisture from his eyes, overwhelmed by all that his brother has endured in this fucking vampire freakshow, while desperately trying not to spew his guts all over himself, and Dean. Fucking concussion.
"It's okay man. I'm here, Dean. I'm here."
He presses a hand on his brother's back and flinches at the strangeness of the touch; like being burnt and frozen in the same instant. This is fucking bad.
"S'mmy? P..pl…please. Can't hold… can't hold on m..m..much longer. F…fucked up… Not s…same as last time… don't… don't know… what… "
He swallows at the weakness in the sound but more so the desperation that weaves its way through his brother's voice. It isn't until he starts to inspect Dean more closely that he notices his older sibling's fingers; as they tap against each other in an uncoordinated, chaotic rhythm. There's a slight whisper floating upwards as well and Sam knows it is not directed at him; Dean is fighting, unwilling to let the vampire win.
"can't get me... not again… gonna kill you... fucker... won't give in... can't... can't get me... not again...gonna killer you... fucker... won't give in... can't..."
Rage and guilt start to build; that fucking vampire. They should never have come here, Samuel and Dean should have told him the truth about 'last time'. The vulnerability of Dean's mumblings mount a dizzying pressure in his head, almost unbearable as it makes itself known. Deeply he breathes, long, deliberate and slow; they...Dean doesn't have the luxury of time; they need to get the fuck out of here and worry about how to fix it when this hell hole isn't even a speck in the rearview anymore.
He lingers there, cursing the heaviness of his body, his strength almost depleted just by the act of making it to his brother's side. Fuck.
There is an inhalation of air from Dean that sparks his attention back to where it should be; his brows knit in concern as the finger tapping slows then stops altogether, the quiver that had been present in his brother's breathing also taking its leave.
"You're hurt Sam."
Fuck. How does he always fucking know? Must've seen vampy plow my head into the cement for kicks.
"You're hurt Sam, admit it."
He shivers. Sure, that's Dean's voice but at the same time, it's not.
"Nah, I'm good, man, just a little headache. Nothing to worry about."
Dean sighs and his body sags into the floor eliciting a groan from Sam at the thought; that he'll now have to carry his unconscious big brother out of this fucking place. His eyes drift closed and he readies his mind and hopefully his body for what it going to be anything but a simple stroll to the nearest exit.
Jolted from his thoughts his body jumps and his head explodes in tandem; agony piercing his skull at the sudden change in altitude, Dean's hand grabbing his arm and lurching him forward, his once hidden features now staring threateningly into his. It's almost too much, the tiny grip he had on his symptoms to keep them at bay gone in an instant. He swallows repeatedly, the burn of bile churning up his throat, itching to make its appearance to the outside world. Dizziness invades his vision and senses and it's all he can do to keep his blurry eyes fixed on his brother's, even though he doesn't like what he sees.
The grip doesn't loosen and his hand starts to tingle with the loss of circulation. A nervous laugh makes its way from him as he tries to twist out of his brother's hold, only it doesn't budge and it doesn't give and, if he didn't already feel nauseous, the way Dean shakes his head and offers a quiet 'tsk, tsk' would have easily done the trick just the same.
"Dean? Ummm, I missed you too man but you're being kind of rough don't you think? How about you lay off a bit with the vice grip, okay?"
The pressure somehow increases and he sucks in a breath, his heart hammering in his chest and his brain on the verge of popping right out of his head. The older sibling looks upward and fixates his gaze on the ceiling above.
"You're lying to me, Sam. I hate it when you fucking lie."
Bad, this is off the charts bad. The frail, scared voice he first heard from Dean is gone; there is no more shakiness, no more mumbling; these words are clear and concise and are dripping; permeated with an undeniable darkness that leaves him light-headed and scared shitless. He swallows, hard.
"I'm not lying, Dean."
A low rumble edges up from his brother's chest and although his view of Dean's face is obscured, the guttural noise he hears creates a picture in his mind of Dean's face transforming into a snarl. A snarl? What the fuck is that about?
"You just said you were fine, Sam. Just a little headache?"
This is fucking insane.
Dean's gaze snaps back to his level and there is something menacing in his eyes; wild and on the cusp of losing control; the way he tilts his head in a jerking, unnatural motion makes Sam's free hand shoot up to try to peel Dean's fingers off of his skin. No fucking luck. Of course.
"I think we both know it's a little more serious than that."
This is so fucked up. Dean is trying to break my fucking arm because I didn't tell him I was blee….. oh, fuck.
"Didn't want you to worry, man, figured you already have enough…"
"Save it. I'm not stupid. I know this current situation is all kinds of fucked up. But I thought hey, maybe this one damn time my little brother would actually tell me… what the fuck, doesn't matter, you don't have to say a goddamned word, Sam. I can smell you. I can smell it. You're bleeding like a stuck pig, Sam. C'mon, I fucking dare you, tell me I'm wrong."
Not good, this is so not good. The threat of panic looms as the evidence right in front of him sinks into his brain. Dean can smell the blood? But… that's not possible. He… Christ, fucking alpha, piece of shit bastard… he's changing... got his fucking claws buried deep into...
"Fuck!" Sam screams out, the sensation on his already abused wrist; the knowledge that it's only seconds away from snapping finally dislodging the contents of his stomach and forcing him to retch uncontrollably, sucking in haggard breaths as his body revolts against him in spades.
The pressure on his hand eases slightly and Sam feels a glimmer of hope; that his suffering has reignited Dean's instinct to keep his younger sibling safe; that it has served to snap his brother out of his vampire-induced haze. Breathless and exhausted he wipes his trembling hand across his face, gathers his scattered wits and lifts his gaze in anticipation, only to have it land on the amused yet impatient features of Dean's face.
TBC... I know, not a great place to end it but... I hope you still enjoyed :)