Forgive me...I wrote a tag to Heart. I know there are dozens and I fought the urge to do it, but it was in my head and wouldn't leave me alone. I hope someone toher than me enjoys it!! Review if you feel the need!
His little boy was broken…again. He knew this was going to happen. He knew at 6:07am, two full minutes before Sam had slid through the hall and beat on the door. It was his Sammy radar…he always knew. When the incessant banging started he knew who was behind the door and why he was there. He knew what they had to do and he knew what the outcome would be. But like most things involving Sam, he had no power over it.
She asked and Sam started to break. Dean met him in the hall with eyes that said I'm sorry and you don't deserve this and we'll make it okay. He offered to take the burden from Sam, but his little boy was determined to be a man now and do this on his own.
The sound of a gun firing never rattled Dean. In twenty-seven years he had never flinched at the sound of a gunshot. But this gunshot was different. It was one that hurt his little boy. No, it didn't pierce his skin or mark his body, but it had ripped him to shreds. And Dean heard it and Dean felt it and Dean hated it.
Sam was on the floor, holding her. Dean's gun was on the floor. The smell of spent gunpowder and blood and pain permeated the air. Dean picked up her phone and dialed 911 before resting it on the table. He tucked his piece into his jacket, then carefully pried Sam's hands out of her hair and lifted his brother to his feet.
They stumbled out of the house and down the steps. Sam opened the door and slipped into the car. It was the last thing Sam would do on his own for days.
Dean drove aimlessly, needing only to get Sam away from there. Sam's heart wasn't safe in California, but they stopped anyway, getting his little boy as far from San Francisco and Palo Alto as he could.
It was a small town in northern California. The motel was cheap but seemed clean. When Dean came back with the room key, Sam wouldn't get out of the car. He was spent, couldn't go any further. So Dean hauled him into the motel and deposited him on the bed. The sun had set and night was surrounding them and taunting them. Dean pulled the blanket from his bed and covered Sam. He brushed the hair from Sam's face and settled in a chair and waited for a nightmare to come after his little boy. It was the days after Jessica's death all over again and while Dean wasn't sure he could watch Sam suffer again, he was sure Sam wouldn't make it alone.
No nightmares came. Dean waited dutifully. Then Sam woke around three and lingered under the sheets, not speaking, only breathing. Tears fell from innocent eyes. Dean heard it, but before he could get to him, Sam turned and threw up all over the floor.
He brought a cool towel to his brothers face and wiped his lips and cheeks. He took Sam's hands and wiped her dried blood from them. He cleaned the mess on the floor and spoke softly about nothing in particular till Sammy slept again.
It was three days. Three days of Sam sleeping too much. Three days of helping Sam to the bathroom. Three days of offering Sam food and water only to be refused. He mumbled in his sleep, apologizing to Jessica and Madison. Dean occasionally pressed a cold cloth to Sam's swollen face. But the little boy was broken.
On the fourth day Dean woke up just after dawn to find Sam's bed abandoned and the front door wide open. When he slipped into the sunlight outside he found Sam stretched across the hood of the car with his face tilted to the sky.
When Dean stood before his brother Sam gave a faint smile. He slipped off the hood and hugged Dean, who was surprised by the touch.
"She's okay", he whispered. "They're both okay"
"And you?" Dean asked, hiding his fear of the answer.
"Not really, but I will be". He looked around the parking lot. "Can't find my answers here though, we should move on".
Sam finally showered. Sam finally ate. They pulled out of the parking lot and headed south. Sam said little, only staring at the passing scenery, and Dean fought the thoughts in his head.
You see, no matter how old Sam got, or how tall, or smart he became, he would always be Dean's little boy. Dean cursed under his breath trying to understand why this happened to Sam. How many times would his little boy be broken? How much would he have to lose before life eased up on him?
Dean looked at his little boy and dismissed his questions and fears. As long as he could get Sam through they would both be fine.
That wasn't too bad was it? I tried to keep it as dignified as possible...you know...keep the boys in character, not too touchy feely. Hope you liked it!!