Title: Survival of the Fittest
Summary: Dean had a lizard on a stick, a knife in his hand and his brother by his side. All things considered, the dark place wasn't all that bad… (Or how Sam and Dean spent their day in monster land) 13x11 "Wayward Sisters" Brother Feels. Hurt/Comfort. BAMF Winchesters.
Warning: Spoilers up until (and incl.) 13x11. Bad language.
Disclaimer: I don't own the show. If I did, I wouldn't sacrifice the incredible talent and chemistry of J2 in order to promote a spinoff. But oh, well...
Dean wakes up and his first thought is 'Sam.'
Hunter instinct kicks in, but only after his protective streak does.
Sam is knocked out cold in the grass beside him and for a brief second, the sight of his unconscious brother causes Dean's heart to skip a beat. The initial panic of not knowing if Sam is alright, that fleeting moment of seeing him so still and with his eyes closed will always scare the living shit out of Dean, no matter what. In that brief moment of panic, of not knowing, his heart stutters to a halt in his chest, fearing the worst. But this time they are lucky.
"Sam?" Dean's voice is rough like sandpaper. Traveling through dimensions will do that to you. "Sam!"
Sam's eyelashes flutter and Dean's world is whole again.
It's only then, after Sam is muttering confused words, eyes sluggishly meeting Dean's own, that Dean allows himself to look around, to take in their surroundings.
He gets to his feet, body coiled tight with tension, Sam only one step behind him, as it should be. Safe.
Kaia's earlier words come back to him, then. 'I only go to one place – the Bad Place. It's just blood and death and monsters.'
He pulls out his knife, Sam falling in step behind him.
If there's one thing the Winchesters know how to deal with, it's blood and death and monsters.
They don't talk much in the first hour, just marching through the wilderness- side by side - taking in their surroundings, having one another's back.
Dean has taken on the lead and Sam follows him because it's his second nature. He can tell that Dean is far more relaxed than him while Sam's own heart threatens to beat right out of his chest. They find footprints of what looks like a freaking dinosaur and how the hell is he supposed to keep his shit together while they are up against a freaking T-Rex with two toothpick angel knives for defense?
Dean doesn't seem to mind any of that, though. He just follows the trail of skulls and bones– courtesy of the Godzilla-like creature that probably runs this place- until the trail veers to the left and then suddenly ends in front of a clearing.
Sam steps up next to Dean, looking over the graveyard of bones and skeletons in front of them, half-rotten carcasses carelessly strewn among the bones.
The scent of rotten flesh has Sam gagging and he lifts his forearm to his nose, trying to block out the rancid smell.
"Guess we found the thing's dinner table," Dean comments.
Sam swallows thickly and shoots his brother a sideways glance. "You know," he clears his throat. "You're handling this stuck in another dimension thing way too well."
"What can I say." Dean shrugs. "Not exactly my first rodeo."
Sam's expression falls so fast Dean almost misses it. He thinks of Purgatory and how the 'dark place' probably feels like Disneyland in comparison. Guilt churns his guts and he feels sick. He left his brother to rot in a place just like this, only darker, more sinister with monsters luring in every corner – hell bent on making Dean pay.
Dean places his hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezes, recognizing Sam's pain. "Let's keep moving before Godzilla comes back for scraps, huh?"
After what feels like a four-hour march, Dean's stomach starts to grumble.
It's not exactly like he feels hungry, not with a Dinosaur hot on their trail and their mom still being stuck in the freaking twilight zone and Sammy looking like a kicked puppy because Dean couldn't keep his trap shut about Purgatory earlier.
In fact, food was pretty far from his mind, right now.
But one of the first lessons their father had ever taught them was to stay hydrated and energized when on a hunt. 'You can't help others if you don't help yourself first, son.' 'You boys need to keep your strength up. Scan your surroundings for things you can eat, wild berries, fruit, roots – animals. Set up a trap. Make a small campfire. Don't attract any unwanted attention.' There were so many lessons John had taught them throughout the years, so many survival techniques, so many lessons about nature and wilderness and being stranded.
Sam comes back from the woods with firewood in his arms, small twigs and branches. "Here," Sam says and dumps a thick, wooden rod on the ground next to the circle of stones Dean had set up for their campfire. Dean picks up the rod and pulls out his knife, carving the tip into a spear.
"You wanna do the honors?" Dean shoots a glance over at Sam, and Sam actually turns a little green at the sight of the lizard Dean had caught with a simple net trap. He holds out the spear to his little brother and gestures towards the pretty impressive iguana-like creature with a teasing smirk on his lips. "Go on. It's not like it's gonna bite you."
Sam grimaces. "I found some berries in the undergrowth. Think I'll go with that."
Dean shakes his head with a soft snort before impaling the dead iguana with the wooden spear. He can't help but feel endeared by the fact that his hunter brother, who kills monsters for a profession, would rather go hungry than to skewer a lifeless reptile. Trust Sam to stick to his rabbit food when they are fighting their way through Jurassic World.
"You are aware that you'd never have stood a chance in Stone Age, right?" Dean asks. "I mean I've always known that you are a girl, but – berries, Sam? Seriously?"
One of Sam's berries hits Dean in the face, closely misses his eye.
Time moves different in this dimension.
The sun never truly goes down here.
Instead, all day long, there is this blue-green hue of light.
Dean notices when Sam's steps begin to falter, when his movements grow slower, a bit more uncoordinated, his eyes drooping with exhaustion.
"Let's take a break," he suggests, wiping sweat from his brow with the torn sleeve of his jacket. It's hot in this place, almost tropical, and they both ditched their jackets a long time ago. "I'll take first watch."
Sam staggers to a halt, swaying from side to side and Dean eyes him with worry. "What? No, I can—"
"Sam," Dean says and that one word is enough to shut his brother up. With an exasperated eye roll, Dean grabs his overgrown little brother by the shoulder and gently steers him down to the ground next to a tree stump. He unties his own jacket from around his waist and bunches it up before stuffing it between Sam's head and the tree stomp as a make-shift pillow. "Two hours, tops. Can't stay in the same place for too long."
Sam looks like he wants to protest, as he tried to make himself comfortable. "But—"
"I'll wake you when it's time." Dean grabs his knife and kneaded the hilt with his palm, before sitting down in the grass next to Sam, readying himself for a long night.
"Dean?" Sam's voice reminds Dean of a four-year-old Sammy, crawling into Dean's bed after a nightmare. "What if no one finds us? I mean, what if we're stuck in this world forever?"
Dean thinks about it for a moment. He knows that the thought should probably scare him, but it doesn't.
"Don't know about you, but I've got all I need. Monsters to hunt, food to eat and my foraging, animal-loving kid brother to look out for."
So maybe their last lesson in life is to hunt down freaking Godzilla or whatever. Dean doesn't care as long as Sammy is by his side. "I think I'm good."
When Sam doesn't answer, Dean looks down to find Sam staring back at him with big, watery eyes.
The sap.
"Me too," Sam says. "I mean, if we're stuck... I want you to know that it's okay."
Dean hears what Sam is really saying.
'I don't care how it ends, as long as it ends with you.'
He holds Sam's gaze and then swallows, blinking a few times before focusing his attention on the woods around them. "Go to sleep, Sammy."
Sam closes his eyes, turning around to bury his face in Dean's jacket. Soon enough, his breathing evens out and his chest rises and falls in a soft, even pattern. A familiar rhythm Dean knows as well as the back of his hand.
"Goodnight, bitch," Dean mutters.
Sam shifts in his sleep and brushes his arm against Dean's side.
His brother is too far gone to return the sentiment, but Dean hears him anyway.
Loud and clear.
Night Jerk.
The End.
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