"And you're sure about this Sammy?" Dean squinted up through the branches of the large oak; the sun was just about to set and the sky was looking kind of orange. He shielded his eyes with his hand before turning expectantly back to his younger brother.
"Yeah Dean, I'm sure." Sam took a small notebook out of the pocket of his jacket and flicked through the first couple of pages. "A leaf from the topmost branch of a tree growing in consecrated ground."
"And that'll do the trick?"
"Yes, Dean, that will do the trick." Sam huffed, wishing his brother would stop asking such stupid questions. If he was going to question every single thing that he did, then he might as well do the research himself. Yeah, right before he rode off on a unicorn, shooting rainbows from his ass… the unicorn, not his brother… Sam shook his head back to the huge oak tree that Dean was still sizing up. He sensed another stupid - yes, here it comes!
"And it's got to be done today?" Dean curled his top lip slightly, clear distaste for the task in hand.
"Well, either today or next Thursday, and I don't fancy another week kicking round this dead-end town waiting for it to happen again, do you?"
"Only on a Thursday?" Dean shrugged.
"Dude, no, I was making it all up. I told you this in the car. Why can't you just listen to me for a change?" Whilst it wasn't too late, he was tired. Although he had to admit, probably more tired of his idiot brother than physical exhaustion. Enough already. He noticed Dean checking over his shoulder. They weren't strangers to hanging about in cemeteries, but usually were a little later than 7.30 in the evening. Neither of them had felt too fond of shinnying up a tree in the pitch black. Still, he was mindful that a grown man climbing a tree in a churchyard was going to look a bit odd. And it was a huge tree. Just as he was about to suggest that Dean get on with it and go fetch the aforementioned leaf from said tree, Dean interrupted him.
"Well then Princess, you'd best get a move on whilst no-one's looking."
Sam could have sworn that he smirked. No, wait, he was smirking. He opened his mouth to protest, trying to think of something intelligent to say but all that came out was another huffy sigh. His brother was unbelievable. Little brother goes down the bug-filled holes, sticks his fingers in the mouth of the severed vampire's head, breaks through the coffin lids… climbs up a huge, huge tree… Okay, so the other stuff sounded marginally worse, but seriously, he was sure that they should have a cherry picker or some safety equipment or a hard hat or - ouch! He felt a punch on his left shoulder.
"Come on already, we've not got all day! In fact, we have, but only today, according to you." Dean raised his eyebrows, taunting his younger brother. God, it was soooooo easy to wind him up.
"Dean, why do I have to climb the tree?" God, I do sound like I'm whining, Sam thought. He was too tired for this.
"Because I said so. But if you're gonna be a girl about this Samantha maybe I'd better get my ass up the tree…" Dean rolled his eyes. "Besides, the quicker you do this, the quicker we can go eat." Dean raised his eyebrows briefly, his eyes unintentionally lighting up at the thought of a burger and a beer.
Sam screwed his face up slightly and gazed upwards at the top of the tree. He slowly considered his options. Dean had already started the years old game of lets-make-Sam-think-that-I-think-he's-scared. Sam knew how that one played out. Huh. Dean makes me think that he thinks I'm scared. He knows I'm not, I know I'm not, I know he doesn't really think I am but I can't help it, even though I'm 23 years old, I fall for it every time. No big brother, I'm not scared. Sammy's not a wussy. I can try Rock-Paper-Scissors for it and we know how that one will pan out. And plus, if he simply doesn't want to go up the freaking tree, then we both know that I'm gonna haul my ass up there.
Sam's mouth twitched slightly as he resigned himself to scaling what looked like a million feet of branches. "Okay," he sighed, glancing over his shoulder. It was going dusky. And the tree wasn't that big, he was sure he'd climbed trees just as big when he was a kid. Frowning at his older brother, he held out his hands. "Have we got any gloves, Dean?"
Big. Freaking. Girl. I don't believe he's asking me this. Dean rolled his eyes. He didn't need to say anything.
"Okay, okay, I'm going." Sam grimaced up at the tree, looking at the lowest branch. It was at least seven feet from the ground. He reached up to the bottom branch, pretty sure that the sturdy oak could take his weight. He glanced back down to his brother. "Give me your knife."
"What for? Frightened you're gonna have to fight some tree-demons whilst you're up there?"
"No, asshole, I'm never gonna get all the way to the top. The branches'll be too thin. I'm gonna have to cut them off from further down". Idiot.
"You're kidding, right?" Dean frowned. "There's no way you're blunting up my knife playing boy scouts!"
"Look man, do you want me to go up the tree or not?"
Dean acquiesced, bored with the 'who's going up the tree argument'. He handed over his knife and Sam tucked it into the side of his boot. Taking a deep breath, he placed both hands on the bottom most branch. "Okay, give me a boost up."
Dean cupped his hands ready for Sam's foot just as he'd done when they were climbing trees as kids. Smiling slightly as Sam placed his now huge boot into his hands (and thinking 'I'm never letting Sammy know that made me smile') he heaved his younger brother up onto the first branch, sure that he heard Sam muttering something about 'tree demons' under his breath.
"Dammit Sam, you're so going on a diet…" He brushed his hands against his jeans where Sam's boot had left earth on them. Grinning down on him, Sam made a mental note to try and step in something unpleasant next time Dean was going to launch him up a tree.
Looking up into the sun, Sam cleaned his greasy palms against his jeans and began to climb. Hell, even he had to admit, this was kinda fun. He swung himself up from branch to branch, impressing even himself that he could still pull this off despite knowing full well that he was stronger than your average guy. He glanced down at his brother, watching his every move with a hand over his eyes as he stared into the sun. He heard Dean call up to him.
"How's it going? You feel like the king of the Jungle yet, Sammy?"
"I'm good," Sam called down to Dean as he tested his weight on another sturdy bough of the old oak, shifting the rest of his weight onto it. The leaves rustled in a small protest to having the 6-foot 17 guy playing jungle-gym in their midst. He felt something fall from beneath his feet, aware that he was knocking some kind of debris down beneath him. Hope it hits my jerk-off brother… He smirked a little himself.
"Sam! Stop kicking crap at me…" Sam's smirk turned into a giggle as he pictured Dean trying to brush tree-junk out of, in Sam's opinion, his over-waxed spikes. He couldn't see his brother any more, and his voice sounded a long way away through the oak's thick foliage. Looking up, he guessed that he was about five or six feet from the top of the tree. Wary that he didn't really want to look down any more, and conscious that the branches were getting thinner, he gingerly pulled on a somewhat weak-looking bough. He had to get another couple of feet up then he could… just about… He reached up, grasping and shaking a handful of younger branches. Squinting through to what remained of the sun poking its way through the younger oak leaves, he was sure that he had hold of what was the bottom of the tallest branches. Reaching down carefully to his ankle, he pulled Dean's bowie out of his boot and steadying himself, hacked the bottom of the branches. They were tougher than he anticipated, and he remembered what Dad used to say about building a fire. Living wood won't burn; if it fights back leave it be, it's no good to you. Although it was in this case. Twisting the last stubborn piece of tree branch, he looked at what he had in his hand and wondered what to do with it. I only need the leaves he thought, and set about trying to shred them from the branch.
"Son of a bitch…" He swore as he pulled his hand over the branch and snagged a long cut into his skin, suddenly thinking how much fun he wasn't having any more. It was going dark; he stuffed the stupid oak leaves into his pocket and wiped his oozing palm on his jeans. He swallowed thickly; thinking that it didn't matter how much he saw of his own blood, didn't mean it didn't make him want to hurl just for a split second. Enough of this now, he thought. I'm getting down.
Dean sighed and pulled his jacket a little closer around him; the evening was drawing in quickly. He could hear Sam rustling about somewhere at the top of the tree, presumably screwing up his favourite knife by hacking off great hunks of oak tree. And presumably throwing any bits down that he didn't want in Dean's direction. Okay, I probably deserve that. He raised his eyebrows as another scattering of debris rained down on him. The sun was all but set now, a slight breeze picking up as the evening drew in. Sighing, bored, he set himself down at the bottom of the huge tree trunk and lazily started to pick at the grass. He frowned upwards. "You nearly done yet, Geekboy?"
Sam started to descend the tree, struggling a little in the failing light. This wasn't fun any more, he thought, so not up for playing jungle gyms. And I'm definitely too big for this, not to mention too old. He heard Dean call up to him; he mustn't be too far from the ground now. He gently reached his foot down to what looked like a sturdy bough beneath him – that was fine. Swinging his other leg to join it, he stumbled slightly as the cuff of his jacket caught on a protruding twig.
"Son of a …" he stopped himself short, suddenly feeling like everything was in slow motion. His foot was no longer where he had left it. And his other foot wasn't with it. Sam swallowed deeply as a surprised yelp escaped from his lungs. He reached manically for something, anything, grasping and scraping his arms and legs until, finally, thank God, he managed to grab hold of something that felt sturdy. He couldn't see what, but finally his feet found a similar something and he was steady again. Breathing quickly, he felt the adrenaline pulsing through his body as he laughed quietly and nervously to himself. "Nearly…" he breathed out loud.
He heard his brothers voice from below, no longer goading him, with his familiar "You okay Sam?" called up to him. Almost wasn't, Sam thought. His heart rate began to slow down, and just as he was about to call to Dean, to tell him that he nearly had a flying lesson, maybe that he nearly took the shortcut, to make some lame joke, he looked down. And froze.
Sam swallowed, knowing that he wasn't too far away from the bottom of the tree. Saying that, he probably had at least another fifteen, maybe twenty feet to descend. And it suddenly looked like a canyon waiting to swallow him. He closed his eyes… no, that was worse, his stomach suddenly started to roll. He clutched tighter onto the tree branch, still swallowing despite the fact that his mouth had suddenly started to feel like he'd been chewing on an old shoe. Breathe, Winchester, just breathe, he knew what advice he needed to hear but couldn't take his own logical order. Somewhere Dean was calling to him again but it sounded like he was in a tunnel, his name echoing off the sides and round his head. Oh my God, oh my God, ohmygodohmygod… Breathe Sam!! He scolded himself, knowing he was being stupid. He knew he wasn't falling, knew that he just needed to carry on as he had been for the last forty minutes or so and that Dean was waiting for him at the bottom. Hell, if he looked down really carefully he could probably see him - oh God, no, bad idea. Vertigo kicked in and everything started to spin, Sam clinging tighter and tighter to the tree. His brother yelled again. Deep breath Sam, he talked to himself, not sure whether he was speaking aloud. Just open your eyes, take a deep breath and tell Dean you're okay. He'll kick your ass for being so lame. One more breath, and you can tell him that you're fine, you'll be down in a minute. "Dean….!!" His voice was shaky. Dammit – that's not what I wanted to say!
"Sam, what the hell are you playing at?" Dean frowned up at the tree, wondering if he should be getting concerned yet. "Come on, it's gettin' dark, stop screwing around." He heard his brother's shaky voice coming from the trees. He could just about see him, not too far away, and he seemed to have stopped moving. "Sam!"
"I…" Sam still couldn't bring himself to look down and damn it, he just couldn't quite get his breathing back in check. Resigned to the fact that left to his own devices, he knew he couldn't move, he called back down. "I… I think I'm stuck."
"How the hell can you be stuck? Get the hell down and we can go eat!" Typical, he thought. This is gonna take some time.
"Dean!" Sam's voice sounded a bit more urgent.
God, he didn't mean it did he? Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't make me come up there and get you." He deadpanned this to Sam, hoping that it would shift his sorry ass into moving. He heard nothing, no wait, he listened again, he thought he could hear his brother breathing. From 15 feet up? God, no, he couldn't hear him breathing, he could hear him hyperventilating. Crap. He rolled his eyes back up towards the tree. "You don't… you don't actually want me to come up and get you, do you?"
Sam heard Dean's voice soften. No, that was really not what he wanted to happen. Really not at all. I can do this he thought, breathe in, breathe out, open your eyes. If I just move a little bit this way then I'll get moving again and… oh shit, no. Sam grabbed the one branch again as the tree began to swing, probably no more than it had done before, but this was different, now he was freaked. "I'll… I'll be fine, just give me a minute…"
"You got those freaky-long arms and legs stuck somewhere sasquatch?" Jesus, this was his fault. What kind of idiot sent a kid built like a giraffe up a tree, one of those long arms and legs was bound to have got trapped somewhere. No answer from Sam. "You got yourself free yet Sammich or do you need big brother to come fetch you?"
Sam swallowed. Yes, he wanted nothing more than for Dean to come and get him. It was worth the jokes, it had to be, just get me down…
"Erm…. yeah Dean, I think you need to come and get me."
Dean's expression was so loud he could almost hear the eye roll. However, he slowed his breathing slightly as he heard Dean call back to him to "Sit tight, be back in a second".
Dean grumbled under his breath, swearing that if he wasn't so hungry that he would go sit in the car for at least half an hour and let the long-legged idiot stew for a while. Hell, maybe he should go and grab some dinner whilst Geekboy tried to get his own foot or whatever out of wherever he's managed to jam it. Smiling to himself, he knew that he wouldn't leave him up there. Well, probably not. In fact, definitely not. 'Watch out for Sammy' didn't really mean leave him stuck defenceless against every son of a bitch out there that seemed determined to kidnap him and try to choke him for kicks. Still, sure would be funny. His eyes searched around him, knowing that there wasn't any way that he could get his not so small frame into the tree without something to stand on. Bingo.
Please come back please come back please come back… Sam was starting to shiver, not sure if it was really all that cold but knowing that if he moved a muscle, he'd drop out of the tree. And would die. He knew it. Thank God, he sighed as he heard Dean banging something about somewhere underneath him. He heard Dean cursing under his breath and then a terrible scraping sound as he failed to hoist himself up into the tree and his boots raked down the old oak's trunk, sending him crashing onto the old crates below him. Sam tried to call out to make sure that he was okay, but suddenly thought that if he opened his mouth, he would throw up. Dean grunted deeply as he hauled his large frame into the tree, swinging his legs up onto the lower branches. Looking up through the growing darkness, he could see a huge mass of person through the leaves which he could only assume was his kid brother. Only take me a couple of minutes, he thought, expertly pulling himself towards Sam. He could still hear him breathing a bit too quickly. Hell, he's not moved for at least 10 minutes, how can he be out of breath?
"Okay Sam, what's stuck?" Dean gasped a little, a bit surprised that the climb had left him short of breath. Holding himself steady, he looked at his brother's limbs expecting to see one of his huge feet wedged between a couple of branches. When Sam didn't answer, Dean looked up to his brother's face. A sudden realisation swept over Dean as he saw his brother wrapped with all four limbs around the same, luckily sturdy, bough, his eyes tight shut and looking as pale as if he'd walked into a McDonalds when he was seven.
Thank God, thank God Dean was here. I might not die after all. He's going to save me. His breathing slowed slightly and he swallowed, knowing that he was going to be okay but not able to stop shaking. What a question, what's stuck? "I…" he stuttered, "I'm stuck". He opened his eyes. No… he suddenly realised that Dean didn't have a clue what the problem was and was coming up here to physically remove a part of him from being stuck to the tree.
Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay Sam, we're gonna do this slowly." He looked straight at Sam as he opened his eyes slowly. Sam suddenly looked ten, hell, fifteen years younger as he stared, terrified, at his brother. How the hell do you tempt a giraffe out of a tree? He looked around him. There wasn't so far to go, probably only a few minutes climb. But Sam was trembling. How the hell was he going to do this without him shaking so much that he just dropped to the ground? He gingerly shuffled his way along the branch, feeling it pull at the pockets on the back of his jeans and cringing a little as he felt it creak in protest of now having two substantially built hunters on its back. Please let it hold, he thought, rolling his eyes upwards in some kind of silent prayer. Steadying himself with his left hand, he extended his right hand out to his brother.
Sam gazed back at Dean wide eyed, watching him reach his hand to him. He wanted to take it, but to do that he would have to let go of the creaky branch that he was holding on to. He saw Dean's green eyes grow wider, silently willing him to take his hand, wordlessly telling him that it would be alright. Which it would, he was sure of it, because Dean always made everything alright. So, he reasoned with himself, it should be okay to let go. Dean won't let me fall. As if reading his mind, Dean raised his eyebrows. "I'm not going to let you fall Sammy." His voice was gentle yet stern; but Sam believed him. He carefully unwrapped his fingers from the tree, instantly feeling like he was going to plummet to the ground. Quickly he grasped his brothers hand, feeling Dean's strong fingers close around his.
"Okay Sam, you're doing good. Now listen to me, I want you to take a deep breath. You're going nowhere whilst you're breathing like that. Breathe in, breathe out…. You remember, like you said to me on the plane when I panicked?" Dean nodded his head to remind Sam he wasn't on his own, he had what he knew was his own irrational fear and Sam had calmed him through it.
Sam's breathing was a little slower now. Dean could feel his own heart pounding in his chest; what the hell had freaked Sam so much? It was fully dark now, making his task all the more difficult. He guided Sam's hand down onto the branch that he was standing on. Now all he had to do was get him to move.
"Sam, you've got to get those big feet of yours down a step. Now, you don't need to look down, I'll tell you where you've got to step, okay?"
Sam didn't move, still staring into his brothers face, swallowing audibly and clearly concentrating on breathing in, out, in out, slowly….
"Sam, listen to me. You trust me, right?" Dean knew that would provoke a response. Sam nodded carefully, and deliberately. Of course he trusted his brother. "Good. Okay, I'm going to climb down just a little bit. You might not be able to see me, but you'll be able to hear me and I'll be just down there."
Dean began to scale downwards so that he was just out of Sam's view. He heard Sam's breathing pick up just a little and called to him to keep breathing in and out, slowly. This is so not easy, he thought to himself. Not at all.
"Sam?" He yelled upwards, his once little brother suddenly seeming like a huge dead weight. A huge, trembling and terrified dead weight. Trying to keep the pangs of guilt that were eating at him for making Sam go up the tree in the first place, he sternly told Sam to lift his left foot from where it was and start moving downwards. It took a moment, but it seemed that Sam was ready to obey his older brother's every word. He really does trust me, Dean thought, and in any other situation he would probably have smiled. Slowly does it. My cheeseburger will have to wait.
Sam could have cried as he felt his brother grab his feet and lower them onto the ground. Feeling slightly as if he wasn't quite in his own body, he let Dean slowly sit him on the cold dirt of the cemetery floor. Still shaking he felt Dean push his head between his knees and order him to take deep breaths. In, out, in out… Sam lifted his head as he sensed Dean crouch down next to him.
"You feeling better now little bro?" Dean patted Sam's cheek with a hand filthy from clambering up and down the tree. "You need me to take a look at that hand?"
"What hand?" Sam was confused. What had he done to his hand? He held his hands out in front of him, more for him to inspect them himself but Dean grabbed hold of them and turned them both palm up to reveal a bloody mess.
"Doesn't look too bad," he declared. All business as usual. Sam dropped his head. He was going to have to talk to his brother eventually, thank him for coming and getting his stupid, sorry, wussy little brother out of a tree. When he wasn't really that high up either. And he hadn't felt as stupid as this in a long time. No, probably ever. Dean let Sam's hands drop. Sam kept his head down, not wanting to meet Dean's eyes. He was an idiot.
"Wanna tell me what happened up there kiddo?" Dean's voice was gentler suddenly.
Sam raised his head, his mouth twitching slightly. "Not really." He looked away again. "I just panicked I guess."
"Yeah. Well." It wasn't the start of a sentence, just a statement. Dean pushed himself up from next to Sam and wiped his hands down his jeans. "You ready to get up yet Samantha?"
"Give me another minute…" Sam suddenly felt a lot better, but gazed up to the tree. What the hell had happened to him up there?
"You're not sitting on your acrophobic ass all night. Come on." Dean's aggressive manner was back. God, there I go again, he thought. Why can't I be nice to the kid for a few minutes, he's having a crappy night. "Let's get you in the car and get the heaters on, bet you're freezing." See, I can do it, he thought. Not everything has to be snarky. He held a hand out to Sam, pulling him up by his uninjured hand.
"Thanks, Dean." Sam mumbled as he helped him up. Still a little shaky on his feet, he felt Dean put an arm on his back, guiding his gently towards the Impala. His defence mechanisms beginning to recover, he was tempted to shake him off. But not quite ready to.
"Thanks for what?" I could make a joke, he thought. I could have a field day with this one. But maybe it's not quite funny yet. He looked up to Sam, wordlessly telling him that it was nothing, that it was his job, he wouldn't make fun of this for at least - an hour. Sam half-smiled back to him, letting his brother lead him through the headstones and back to the car.
Sam folded himself into the passenger seat of the Impala, not quite able to believe the last hour. Embarrassment had set in, and he kept his head down low against the passenger window. Dean glanced over at his brother, unscathed apart from being a bit cold and a minorly scraped-up hand. He smiled. He couldn't help it. He looked away, desperate to say something clever, willing himself to stop but not quite able to resist.
"Man, I don't believe you got yourself stuck in a tree!" Okay, it wasn't clever, and it wasn't a smart comment, but boy was it funny. And he laughed. He beat the steering wheel and threw back his head, laughing like he hadn't laughed in what felt like years.
Sam kept his eyes hidden under his long bangs. "Yeah yeah, laugh it up Dean. Just like I did when you got scared on that plane."
A brief pang of guilt stabbed at Dean, but it was gone as fleetingly as it arrived. "No way dude, you are so not pulling that one on me. You got stuck in a frickin' tree!" He sniggered again. "And I had to get you down!" Dean dissolved into a fit of giggles onto his steering wheel.
Sam scowled. "Yeah yeah, whatever Dean." A heartbeat passed, the older brother coughing slightly from his laughing fit. "Anyway," Sam continued, still staring out of the window, "You meant King of the Apes."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"When I was in the tree. You meant Tarzan, right? Everyone knows Tarzan's the King of the Apes, not the King of the Jungle, Dumbass." He smiled, knowing his brother couldn't see his face. "And how the hell d'you know a word like acrophobic?"
"Woah woah woah, Treeboy is calling me a dumbass? I save your ass yet again and I'm catching hell for it?" Dean flashed his green eyes and a huge grin in Sam's direction. "Bitch!"
Sam turned his face away from Dean, trying his best to keep up his sulk, but smiled. Just for once, he thought as the V8 engine growled into life, I'm not gonna say it.