You're As Cold As Ice.
Summery: Sometimes being cold isn't always a bad thing.
Rated: T
WARNING: Character death, angst, and swearing.
Genre: Tragedy, Family, Angst... Schmoop?
A/N: My reason for making this fic? You know... I honestly have no idea. I'm obviously not 100% stable upstairs though, lol. Then again, you're reading it aren't you? What does that say about you, eh? :)
Part One
It was about 11:30 at night and Sam was depressed. Cold, bloody, in unbelievable pain and depressed. He stared blankly at the dark night sky above him, his entire body livid with the agony of numerous broken bones, internal bleeding and too many bruises to count.
So yeah, he's not exactly without reason at the moment.
This... this is what he gets. This is what Sam gets for taking a damn walk. For trying to clear his head and get a grip on his racing thoughts and emotions.
For being stupid enough to push his brother.
Sam felt his eyes start to tear up with angry frustration as he let loose another pained sigh. This small movement lead to an almost instant groan of agony, both physical and emotional.
Small tracks of tears started to slip down his chilled, bruised cheeks and Sam felt his heart start to ache mercilessly as the scene that had happened earlier that night flashed before his glazing eyes.
Sam stared quietly down at the dusty book currently resting before him. No matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't pay it much attention because his mind was a million miles away from what he was supposed to be reading.
Things had been beyond tense between them for awhile. Ever since dad died, Dean had been growing more distant and cold each day. All of Sam's attempts to talk about what had happened were instantly rebuked with tight lipped silence and a stern, closed off glare that demanded the subject be dropped immediately.
All Sam wanted to do was help him for Christ sakes!
Why did Dean always have to be such a stubborn ass when it came to talking to him about anything even remotely related to his emotions?
Sam clutched his pencil tighter as he heard a soft sigh ring from Dean and glanced up. Dean was staring down at the laptop screen, a stoic expression on his face as he researched their most recent hunt.
Sam knew better though.
Sam could tell that Dean was hurting just as much as he was over dads death. Despite this, Dean still felt like he had to put on his infallible little solider act because for some bizarre reason, in Deans mind, Sam needed constant emotional protection or he'd instantly collapse into himself like a poorly played game of Jenga.
"Dean?" Sam said finally, looking up at his older brother with a serious expression on his face. Dean's eyes instantly flickered up from the TV show he'd been relaxing to at the sound of his name.
"Yea Sammy? Find something?" He questioned gruffly.
Sam shook his head. "Nothing yet man, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." A confused gaze over took Dean's face for a moment, and then a gradual expression of realization and annoyance replaced it.
"Dammit Sam, why can't you just let this go? I'm dealing with dad's death, alright? Stop trying to push your freaking chick-flick moment onto me!"
Sam felt a spark of anger jump through him and he stood up, shaking his head in defiance.
"No Dean, you're not dealing, you're repressing. Last time I checked there's a pretty big damn difference between coping with grief and suffering in silence. Why won't you just let me try and help make this at least a little easier for you?" Sam practically begged.
Fire flashed in his eyes at that and Dean stood up, snapping his response. "Why? Because I'm a decent person Sam! I don't force my stupid feelings onto others every chance I get just because I'm upset. I am sad about dad dying, but I'm also pissed as hell and maybe I don't want to talk about it all the goddamn time!"
Dean whipped the remote he'd been using onto the chair nearby in a moment of rage. "News flash Sam, our dad just freaking DIED! It's pretty damn common for people to want to deal with things on their own once in a while. Sorry if I'm not able to get over ANOTHER one of my parents dying as easily as you are Sam" Dean growled out venomously, his breathing shallow with agitation as he lashed out like a frightened, ccornered animal
Sam's mouth dropped open in shock, eyes becoming pinched with hurt. "How can you say that? I'm taking this just as hard as you are Dean! The only difference is that I'm dealing with it healthily!"
That was the straw that broke the camels back.
Dean let out a loud, bellowing laugh of sneered out sarcastically. "Right Sam, because you're always right and I'm always wrong! CHRIST! It has ALWAYS been about you Sam! Freaking you! Wanna known what dad told me on my fourteenth birthday?" He growled. " Not, "Happy birthday Dean." no, his exact words were, "Make sure you take care of your brother while I'm gone Dean." Like I could have ever forgotten! It was always my job to protect precious little Sammy!"
Sam felt his heart start to speed up, throat tightening with shock at how much anger was being directed his way. He knew Dean was about to say something he'd regret, but Sam knew that he couldn't stop it any more then he could stop a freight train barreling at him full throttle.
"Why did it always have to be me Sam? Why did I have to be the poor bastard stuck with all the goddamn responsibility? Why did I have to worry about shooting perfectly because if I didn't 'Sammy could get hurt.'?" Dean ground out, "Do you think that you were the only one suffering back then Sam? Did you think that I liked having dad miss almost every single one of my birthdays? DO YOU?"
He flinched fiercely at the shouted question, unshed tears starting to blur his vision and his entire body growing heavy and hot with emotional distress. But Dean didn't see his brother, only the rage that now colored his eyes.
"Dad was an obsessed bastard! I didn't deserve or want any of the bullcrap he laid on me, Sam! Any of it!" Sam then let out a loud stunned yelp when Dean suddenly grabbed a hold of his collar, ripping him from his spot and slamming him roughly up against a wall.
A sharp SMACK erupted throughout the room and Sam let out a loud shout of pain as the sharp blow of Dean's hand landed across his unsuspecting cheek. Sam felt as if his entire world were being ripped out from under him as a smooth trickle of blood oozed down his face.
Sam couldn't see Dean's ferocious looking face through his teary, pained haze, but he could sure as hell feel it. Nothing Sam had ever experienced in his life could equal up to the amount of misery that was having his older brother, the man who he'd idolized for almost his entire life tell him he was a...
"Is this enough sharing for you, Sammy? Tell me, what did I do to deserve any of this Sam! TELL ME! C'mon college boy, tell me what I did to deserve such a... a..." Dean's voice wavered with pent up emotion.
"... a burden?" Sam choked out despondently. Dean froze, and just barely through his haze he watched as a slow expression of shock and horror spread across the older mans face. Dean mentally jerked himself back into control. but the damage was done.
"I-Is that all I was to you Dean? Just some pathetic little n-nuisance that you were u-unlucky enough to have gotten saddled w-with?" He croaked, uncontrollable tears now gushing down his face.
Dean's mouth dropped in utter horror and he jerked his arms away with a gasp. Sam was sure Dean said something, but the roar desolation in his ears did a good job of blocking it out. Letting out a sharp sob, Sam pushed his brother way from him.
"Sammy! I-I-!" Dean cried out desperately, reaching for him but Sam just yanked his arm away and bolted out the hotel door, slamming it loudly behind him and not looking back as he sprinted down the stairs and blindly down the street as his brother wailed his name into the night air.
Sam stumbled along the dark road, not knowing or caring where he was going as he sobbed pathetically into his arm.
'Dean hates me.. I p-pushed him too hard and now he h-hates me' Sam thought to himself in anguish. He wishes he'd never been born. T-Then mom wouldn't have d-died, and D-Dean wouldn't have had to grow up with such an aw-awful little b-brother...
So completely enthralled with his internal war, Sam unfortunately didn't hadn't heard or seen the drunk driver currently racing towards him until it was to late...
SCREEEECHHHH!
Sam let out a loud scream of agony when the large pickup truck slammed into his side, causing him to bang violently against the top of the roof as he was thrown over it.
The son of a bitch hadn't even stopped.
Sam let out an agonized groan as he slammed powerfully into the ground, rolling helplessly into the ditch on the other side of the deserted road, landing with a loud grunt of pain on his back.
Pain was all Sam knew at this moment. Blinding, unbelievable pain and he was unable to do anything about it. So he subsided with lying motionlessly on the ground, staring up at the blurry, starry night with unfocused eyes.
Well... m-maybe now Dean can be happy... Sam thought numbly to himself before collapsing into darkness.
So here he was now. Bleeding to death in some random, dirty ditch in Nobody-Gives-A-Rats-Ass, USA.
Sam had thought about how he would die a lot. A werewolf's claws, a vampires bite. Hell, a pissed off spirit could do the trick.
A drunk driving hit and run though? Sam can honestly say he didn't see that one coming.
Almost his entire body had gone numb by now, most likely from the loss of blood and cold air that had soaked into his broken and dying body.
No matter how much someone's thought about it or how much they've expected it to happen, no one is ever really ready to die. Not even after twenty-four years.
Especially after only twenty-four years.
Sam had always known that he would probably die, but not like this. Not alone, broken and bloody on the side of some backwater road.
He'd hoped -should worse come to worst- that he would have at least have had the pleasure of being with his brother in his last few moments on Earth.
Tears started to streak again down his cheeks, throat clenching with emotion as his vision started to fade, along with his pain. His physical pain anyways.
As Sam felt his last moments of life start to ebb away, vision now almost gone, only one thought, one image stayed with him.
A picture.
A picture that Dean had insisted upon taking on Sam's graduation day just before he had told them he was leaving for Stanford...
"C'mon Sammy! You're finally free from the horror that is high school!" Dean had insisted, his patented grin plastered across his face. Sam had the decency to roll his eyes and chuckled, tossing the tassel out of his face.
"Dean, you know that I don't like taking pictures man! Can't we just go get a beer or something?" Sam protested.
Dean snorted loudly. "Dude we're getting a beer one way or another. Now will you stop your bitching and get the hell over here!" Then proceeded to yank the half-heartily unwilling Sam over to him. Slinging his free arm around Sam's shoulder, Dean pulled the younger brother against his side.
Holding the camera up above their heads, Dean pressed his face against the side of Sam's and grinned widely up at it. Sam pouted playfully, but found he couldn't help but smile up at the disposable camera as his brother held him close.
Dad might not give a damn, but at least he'd always have Dean.
No matter what, Sam could always take comfort in the fact that there would always Dean.
click!
Sam never did find out what Dean did with that picture.
When a sudden sharp slash of blazing pain whip-lashed throughout the inside of his chest, Sam let out a wheezing cough of suffering as an unhealthily large amount of blood sprinkled his face and chest.
The movements caused him to groan loudly at the strain and he felt the all to familiar prick of oh to familiar tears start to react from behind his eyes, blurring his already fading eyesight.
In rebellion Sam squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the painful sensations and memories.
But Sam was just to damn tired to fight anymore, and they ended up ultimately winning the feebly fought war over control of Sam's quickly fading grip on his consciousness.
Letting his eyes drift open, Sam was only a little startled to see that his vision was now completely extinguished. Sam let a grim smile weakly creep over the side of his face as he felt his consciousness slowly start to fade.
Coldness soothingly washed over him as Sam slowly start to slip into a surprisingly peaceful void.
"I love you, Dean... I just wish you could have heard me say that..." Sam murmured out softly before letting his mind completely fall into the endless -but oddly enough none the less welcoming- pit of darkness.
Crap, crap, crap, CRAP! Dean relentlessly searched the roads for his missing brother, unimaginable guilt and fear crashing over him in waves as he drove along them.
What the hell had he done? How could he do and say those awful things to Sam?
Christ, he hadn't wanted to!
It was just this whole goddamn dad thing was tearing him up inside and he'd screwed the royalist pooch ever and taken out all that built up pain on his brother.
When he found Sam, Dean would get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to.
Dean was willing to do anything to get his brother back.
Everything would get better once he found Sam and explained... Dean's thoughts trailed off with a flash of horror before he slammed on the breaks in the middle of the dark road.
Leaping out of the car, Dean paled as he saw a long line of blood splatter lead over to the ditch on the side of the road.
O-Oh Jesus Christ, no... Nonononono. Oh God-
"Sam, you out hear? SAMMY?" Dean shouted before sprinting along the blood trail, only to jerk to an abrupt stop with a loud cry, hands instantly flying to his mouth.
Before his eyes lay his brother, almost completely soaked sicking amount of blood. His skin was washed out and his lips had taken on a ghoulish blueish tint.
All of that was nothing compared to Sam's eyes though.
Dean slowly sank to his knees, his entire body going into a momentarily paralyzing state of shock as he stared at his into his brothers once lively blueish green eyes, that had now become lifeless and glassy as they stared sightlessly up at him.
For some reason, almost as if possessed, Dean numbly reached into his back pocket and plucked out his worn out wallet, eyes never leaving Sam's. Reaching into it, he silently pulled out a worn, long forgotten photograph and only then did he let his eyes stray hesitantly from his deceased baby brothers.
Dean stared down at the picture, tears that he wasn't even aware he was shedding steadily running down his pale, ashen face.
A younger Sam stared back up at him, a crooked grin permanently imprinted into his face as Dean's younger self pulled him against his side. Though extremely difficult, Dean shakily managed to turn the wrinkled photograph around.
In messy handwriting, Dean somehow managed to read the eternal message that eighteen year old Sam had scribbled on the back of the yellowed paper, as if only moments ago.
June 5, 1999
Sam & Dean Winchester
No matter what comes our way, we'll always have each others back.
Why? Because that's what brothers do (even if one brother happens to be a giant jerk!)
Dean let out a strangled laugh at that and kept reading.
Seriously though dude... You have no idea how grateful I am that you're my big brother.
I know that you must have had to make so many sacrifices for me and you'll never be able to understand how thankful I am.
Alright, that's all for this chick-flick. Go get your blackmail material from somewhere else Dean!
Dean let the picture drop out of his hand, unable to breath past the strangling lump that rested inside his throat.
What had he done.
He let his glazed eyes lifelessly drop back onto his glassy eyed brother as the inevitable tears started to streak down his cheeks.
He felt like he was drowning in a stormy ocean of remorse and guilt. Dean was barely managed to weakly crawled on all fours into the ditch.
Dean, easily managing to ignore the large amount of blood coating a good portion of his anatomy, chose to spoon against Sam before he buried his tear soaked face into his shoulder.
Bone deep sobs then erupted from his mouth, and he continued to sob for hours in that bloody ditch, miserably clutching his last reason for livings body to his own.
Now completely unaware that the forgotten picture now rest face up on Sam's chest, staring innocently up at the dreary night sky as the heartbroken hunter sobbed himself to sleep. All of his other thoughts having died long ago...
... along with his little brother.
To be continued...