Hey guys!!! I have definite writer's block on my other story, 'Twisted Night,' even though it's the second time I've written it... I found that I didn't like the way it went the first time, and maybe it was the computer's way of telling me that it sucked, when it ate the chapters.
So I wrote a new story!!! (Or rather started one...)
Disclaimer: I own nothing... Well except my laptop, a tv, a few pictures and some other odds and ends... (thinks hard) But...!... That's not the point... Kripke and the CW own Supernatural... Though I'm getting kind of mad at the commercial they have for Supernatural... It's a 1967 Chevy Impala, not a "cool 1970's Chevy,' get it right!
Deep breath... End of rant, enjoy the first chapter of 'Priorities'...
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Pain.
Mind numbing, all consuming, breath stealing; pain.
The first thing Sam Winchester became aware of was the spiking pain emanating from his lower left side. It froze him for a second, and then the agony forced a low moan from him.
A low, strangled, moan.
The second thing Sam became aware of was the suffocating force being applied to his throat. It made his breathing harsh, making him wheeze pitifully for every gasp of air he pulled in.
The third thing Sam became aware was that he wasn't alone. He could see a middle aged man standing in front of him, gripping his throat almost gleefully. The man's eyes were dull and unseeing, his lips twisted up in a pleased snarl.
Between the force against his throat, and the pain in his side, Sam's vision was narrowing, darkening, with every second. He fought the grip on his neck weakly, but the fingers holding his air hostage were unrelenting.
He tried his hardest to fight the grip, but his hands stopped obeying his commands, and dropped laxly to his sides. He could do nothing but let the monster holding him, squeeze the very life from him.
The pain was muted now, not as pronounced as it had been when he had first swam back into consciousness. It seemed far away, like he could feel it, but it didn't really affect him like it should, and Sam groaned inwardly.
Darkness shaded the edge of his vision, speckled glowing black into his sight. He fought the pull of unconsciousness as long as he could, but the dark was closing in, making it hard to see.
Detached, Sam felt himself fall to the ground as a gunshot rang out. Try as he might though, the youngest Winchester couldn't find the strength to fight off the offending darkness.
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Dialing his brother's number again, Dean ran through the halls of the old house. He had had a bad feeling about this hunt from the beginning, and if the twisting in his stomach told him anything...
Something's wrong.
The thought screamed at him, and he cursed, telling himself to run faster.
"Hi, you've reached Sam, I'm not here, so you know what to do." The tone beeped after a moment and Dean snarled, snapping the phone shut. "Dammit Sam, you better be alright, or I'm gonna kill you."
Taking another corner, Dean found himself staring at a middle aged man. A middle aged man, suffocating, his unresponsive brother. Not giving it another thought, Dean raised his gun, aimed, and shot the man holding his brother in the back.
As soon as the round hit the man, he dissolved into thin air, and Sam dropped. There was no resistance, no catch; he just fell. Before Sam had even hit the ground, Dean was running, praying that something wasn't seriously wrong...
That Sam was okay.
He dropped to his knees, heedless of any discomfort it would cause him, his mind and heart bent on checking his brother. His Sammy.
Placing a shaking hand on Sam's neck, he held his breath. The dull throb was thready and weak, but Dean contented himself with just knowing it was there. That Sam was alive.
Alive was good. Hurt was another thing, but Dean would rather have Sam alive and hurt, than dead and unmarked. As long as Sam was alive, there was something that Dean could do to help him, there was nothing he could do about the dead though; and the thought of his eighteen year old brother being dead stole the breath from his chest.
Breaking from his thoughts, Dean sat Sam up against the wall he was slouched against, all the while checking him over. Putting his hands on Sam's shoulders, he ran them over and then up his neck. Placing his thumbs under Sam's jaw, he tilted his brother's head up. Sam was still and unresponsive under his ministrations, and Dean's heart clenched painfully in his chest.
Gently letting go of Sam's head, Dean turned his attention to the ragged gashes in his baby brother's side, grimacing at the raw look of them. Pulling off his denim over shirt, he pressed it against the slashes, trying to stop the bleeding, all the while trying to ignore the vivid bruising starting to form on Sam's neck.
Dean didn't even remember pulling his cell phone from his pocket, but within seconds, he heard his father's gruff, "What is it Dean?"
"Dad, we got a problem." The shakiness of his voice, startled Dean.
"Dean?" The tone held curiosity with an underlining of worry, and Dean drew in a breath.
"Sammy's hurt. Norton got to him when he was searching." He heard the muffled cursing from the other side of the phone and sighed, before forcing himself to pay attention. "He's got four pretty nasty gashes in left side, and the bastard choked him. He's lost a lot of blood dad, we've got to get him out of here."
After a moment, he heard a deep sigh from his father. "Okay, tell me where you are. I don't want you looking after Sam and getting hurt, trying to get him out by yourself."
Dean relayed their position, and hung up after a brief, "Watch your back, and be careful."
Turning his attention back to Sam, Dean murmured a few choice words under his breath, as he found his brother shaking. If it was from blood lose, or the subconscious feeling of pain, Dean didn't know.
All he knew was, he didn't like it.
As he waited for his father, one hand pressing firmly on Sam's side, the other holding a shot-gun at the ready; Dean prayed that his brother would be alright. Almost without thought, Dean listened to his brother's breathing, trying to gauge whether or not his throat was swelling from the strangling.
Just hold on a little longer Sammy, we'll get you outta here. Dean hoped it was the truth.
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A/N: So I hope you liked the first chapter of my newest story.
Take care, and let me know what you think,
OSS
