Disclaimer: Sadly they aren't mine. I'd have more fun with them.
Spoilers: Takes place during Season 3, so all season's up for grabs.
A/N: I'm terrible at this, but I'm rating it a T because of the language and gore.
Summary: A gruesome hunt leaves Sam with more than just nightmares. Lots of Limp!Sam some Limp!Dean and lots and lots of angst. I love angst.
Authors Note: This started out as purely a Sam story focusing on his guilt complex and it sort of morphed into something else. Sam and his guilt are still there though. Hope you like it.
Warnings: Contains violence against a child. If that bothers you don't read.
FEAR OF FAILING
Dean wasn't sure when it all went wrong. Since making that damn deal, things had been different. Sam didn't listen to him anymore. Sam didn't listen to anybody. Sam's world revolved around saving him. It didn't matter that he didn't want him to. Well, that wasn't really true. Dean wasn't stupid, and as much as Sam bitched about it, he didn't have a death wish. Dying wouldn't have been his first choice, and going to hell, well that kind of sucked. If there had been another way… But he did what he had to do, and he wasn't going to apologize for it. That left him with one seriously pissed off brother, and hunting with said brother was like hunting with a powder keg. Everything set him off.
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This was supposed to be an easy hunt. A couple of missing teenagers, the kind that don't runaway, and a handful of mutilated house pets, made tracking the son of a bitch easy. All were in a four-block radius of an abandoned warehouse.
What they weren't sure of was what exactly it was. The animals were mauled but not eaten and with no bodies to examine the teenagers could have just been easy prey. This new Sam didn't seem to care that they didn't know how to kill it. They had a location, so the hunt was on.
Sam was out of the car before Dean had her in park. Cursing his brother's long legs, Dean hurried after him. Once inside, he stopped, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. The warehouse was full of boats, hauled out of the water for storage. Dean shook his head. Some people just had way too much money. Scanning the room he saw no sign of Sam.
"Sam," Dean growled into the darkness. A gunshot to his right had him running through the isles of boats into a backroom. "Sammy!"
He nearly tripped over the body. Lying motionless was… well Dean wasn't sure. It looked human but for the claws. If Dean had to guess he would have said it was some sort of mutated werewolf. It hadn't changed though, so maybe he was wrong. It was dead, that's all that mattered.
A small cry sent him further into the room. Behind a row of file boxes he found Sam, and he wasn't alone. Cradled in his arms was a little girl, no older than six. Her pink sundress was covered in blood, as was her face. Dull, lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling.
They were nothing though compared to the eyes that turned to him. Sam had always taken death personally, nightmares about Jess, and the many sleepless nights after hunts gone wrong, but Dean had never seen his brother look so broken. Those eyes begged Dean to do something, anything.
"Dean." The plea had Dean struggling to keep himself together. God, how was he going to fix this?
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Sam knew he should be feeling something. The empty hollowness that crept into his brain made everything fuzzy. His world tunneled until all he saw was the little girl.
SAVE HER!!
He sensed Dean's presents before he saw him.
"Dean."
Dean had to help him. They had to save her. His gaze drifted back to the girl. Her eyes were closed. How'd that happen?
"Sam, let her go," Dean said trying to pull him back.
What? No. No, they had to save her. Why couldn't Dean see that?
He struggled against the arms pulling on him, tightening his hold on the little girl.
"Sam!"
The edge in Dean's voice made it's way through the fuzziness in his brain. Why was Dean upset? He turned to look at Dean, eyes full of confusion.
"We need to go," Dean said.
"Save her," Sam whispered, a hint of desperation in his voice.
Dean sighed. "You did good, Sam. It won't hurt anyone else."
He didn't understand. The fuzziness was creeping back in.
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Dean had skipped concerned and was getting close to panic. Sam was putty in his hands. His meager protests turned into utter silence, and he let Dean pull him away from the girl and walked obediently to the car.
That had been three hours ago. Dean eyed Sam who sat motionless in the passenger seat, staring out the window. He hadn't said a word, which for Sam was odd enough, but the look in eyes hadn't changed.
It was no secret that Dean was not a talk about your pain kind of guy, but Sam was starting to scare him, and the silence was unnerving.
"I could use a refuel, how about you?" Dean asked.
Sam didn't answer, just kept staring out the window.
"OK," Dean said turning into the diner parking lot. "How about I bring something out to you."
He really didn't want to leave Sam alone, but they hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning, and he was starving.
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The opening and closing of the door vaguely registered in Sam's mind. He didn't remember leaving the girl. He didn't remember getting in the car. The warehouse, the creature, the girl, it was all jumbled in his head. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.
SAVE HER!!
His eyes shot open, and he recoiled. The girl's reflection stared back at him from the windshield.
SAVE HER!!
He closed his eyes and shook his head. It wasn't real. God, don't let it be real.
"Sam, you ok?" Dean asked, making Sam jump.
He slowly opened his eyes, and stared at his own reflection, just his reflection.
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The night had past without a problem. Sam let him lead him into the room. Dean stood outside the bathroom door while Sam did his business, because he was a good big brother but you have to draw the line somewhere, and he put the clothes on Dean gave him. All the while, not saying a word. Dean had left the TV on just for the noise. He wasn't sure when Sam actually fell asleep, but his eyes were closed when Dean left the room to get breakfast.
Sighing, Dean opened the motel door, balancing the coffee and breakfast sandwiches in one hand. He was going on his second day without sleep and already downed one cup of liquid caffeine waiting for the sandwiches. Shouldering the door closed behind him, he set their breakfast on the nearby table and opened the curtains. The sun revealed two empty beds.
"Crap," Dean said racing to the bathroom, only to find the door locked. "Sam?"
The door opened and a freshly showered Sam emerged. "Yeah?"
"You ok?" Dean asked looking his brother over.
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" Sam asked pushing past him.
"I don't know, you were doing a really good Rainman impression when I left, and now what, you're fine?" Dean asked crossing his arms.
"No, not fine, just better," Sam said snagging a cup of coffee.
Dean could see where this was going. After Jess, Sam had done the same thing. The no talking should have been his first clue. As much as Sam fussed about feelings and talking things out he was still a Winchester, and one thing Winchesters were good at, was hiding their pain, or at least trying to. Sam would hide behind his resigned acceptance, but Dean knew better. Something else was there. Dean would figure it out eventually. He always did.
"So, where to next?" Sam asked around a mouthful of sandwich.
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Sam was ok. Dean just kept telling himself that. It didn't matter that he stared off into space on occasion. Who didn't? It was only after the third time Dean found him in the car with his hand on his forehead that he started asking questions. Not that he got any answers. "I'm fine" was the standard response these days. Dean was really starting to hate that phrase.
The first nightmare came the day after the girl. Sam screamed so loud the manager came to investigate. They packed up and left. The nightmares came every night after. That was if Sam let himself fall asleep. He thought he was hiding that from Dean. Dean didn't let on though. Why bother? It would just lead to another argument, which was all they seem to do lately.
Dean knew eventually they'd have to talk it out, or what the Winchesters like to call talking. For now, he'd let it go, until Sam was ready.
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Sam would never admit it, but he was scared. Terrified actually. He'd had nightmares before. Hunting tended to do that to him. As hard as he tried he couldn't block it out like Dean did.
But this was different. He saw her when he was awake. It started with the reflections. First the car, than the bathroom mirror. At first he thought she might be haunting him, but Dean didn't see her. That scared him more than the nightmares.
He saw her everywhere now. Not the blood soaked little girl from his dreaming nightmare. No, he saw her the way she must have looked when she was alive, pretty pink dress, hair in ribbons, and those sparkling blue eyes.
He was afraid he was loosing his mind. That's why he didn't tell Dean. He was supposed to be helping Dean. What do you do when you find out the brother you gave your soul up for is going crazy? He wasn't laying that on Dean. Not now.
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The first thing Dean notice was the mine smelled like decomp. The second, they weren't alone.
Freakin windegos, why the dark and damp. Just once he'd like to hunt something without getting wet.
"Dean," Sam whispered from behind him.
"What?"
Sam motioned to his left before his hand went to his mouth, and he turned away. Dean angled his flashlight up and had to swallow to keep his lunch down. Hanging in an outcrop were four bodies, or what was left of four bodies. The windego had been munching on two of them.
"Now that's just gross," Dean mumbled.
"Dean!" The warning came to late. The windego tackled him, scratching down his right side as it pushed him hard against the wall. Dean's vision cleared enough to see Sam pull his flare gun and aim, but he didn't fire. His gaze fell to the back of the tunnel, and he froze.
"Sam!" Dean yelled, trying to stand. Sam didn't flinch, didn't even appear to hear him. "Damn it Sam, shoot!"
Sam seemed to focus, but his shot went wide, sending the flare into the outcrop, lighting the remains of the victims' clothes up.
Dean coughed as the tunnel filled with smoke. He held his hand to his side as he stood, searching for Sam and the windego. His head began to swim and the smell of burning flesh was not helping the nausea that threatened to bring up his lunch. He moved slowly out of the tunnel hoping to find Sam along the way. No such luck.
"No!" Sam's voice echoed thought the tunnel, but Dean knew it could be a trick.
"Sam!"
The smoke was thinning, but the smell continued to turn his stomach. Dean tried breathing through his mouth, but it didn't help.
"Dean!"
Gritting his teeth, knowing he could very well be walking into a trap, Dean headed back the way he had come. The smoke grew thicker and the smell much worse. It was the third time he stopped to puke that he spotted Sam, laying on his stomach, not moving.
Crap.
The windego was on top of him before he even reached Sam. He was thrown roughly to the ground, his flare gun clattering against the wall. The windego's claws slashed at the arms he held protectively over his face.
"Dean! No!" Sam cried as he staggered toward them.
The windego turned giving Dean a chance to roll away. He pushed himself up, searching the floor for the flare gun. It glinted from its spot a few feet away. Thankfully it was undamaged. Dean turned to find the windego slashing at Sam's chest.
"Hey," Dean growled. "Get away from my brother, you son of a bitch."
The windego roared in anger and turned toward Dean. He fired, dropping it in its tracks and making the smell ten times worse.
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Sam lay against the wall trying to breath. Between his long sleeve shirt, his undershirt, flannel and coat, most of the slashes hadn't hit skin, except for one nasty slice across his chest. It burned every time he took a breath.
"Sam," Dean said his voice full of concern at the sight of the blood oozing from his brother's chest.
"I'm ok," Sam mumbled trying to stand.
"Right," Dean said laying a hand on his shoulder so he couldn't move. "Let me see."
Sam hissed as Dean pulled the cloth from the wound and poked at the edges.
"It's no that deep, but it needs to be cleaned out."
Sam caught his arm as he tried to stand. "My turn."
Dean sighed, but let Sam inspect the damage. Thanks to the layered clothing, Dean also escaped with minimal damage.
"What about your head? Seeing double? Dizzy?" Sam asked.
"No, but if we don't leave soon, I'm going to puke on you."
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After cleaning and bandaging the worst of the slashes Dean ran out for food, because you can't argue on an empty stomach. Honestly, he just didn't want to have this conversation. It had been three weeks since the girl and things weren't getting better. Dean could ignore it while it didn't affect the hunt, but after today, he needed to find out what was up.
Placing the food in front of Sam, he watched him pick at it.
"Sam. Eat."
"Leave it alone, Dean."
Dean dropped his fork and stood. "Ok, that's it. Tell me what's going on."
"I don't know what you mean," Sam mumbled.
"The hell you don't. You don't eat. You don't sleep. The nightmares, and what happened today?" Ok he wasn't as calm as he would have liked, but damn if Sam wasn't trying to piss him off.
"I don't know…"
"Stop it. Just tell me, Sam."
Sam eyed him and looked away.
The flare gun was in his hand. He aimed, waiting for Dean to be out of the shot.
SAVE HER!!
She was there, standing in the corner. No blood, just a pretty little girl, her blues eyes staring at him.
SAVE HER!!
She shimmered, and Sam knew she wasn't real, just like he knew the dreams weren't real, but that didn't change how he felt. He let her die. It was his fault.
SAVE HER!!
"Damn it, Sam. Shot."
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"Sam!"
Sam stood abruptly. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was waiting for a clean shot. I'm fine, Dean."
Dean glared at him. "Sam…"
Sam grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
"Where're you going?"
"Out," Sam growled, slamming the door behind him.
It was morning before Sam came back carrying coffee and donuts. Dean saw it for what it was, a peace offering. Taking a coffee, he spotted Sam's bloody knuckles. Without a word, he pulled out the first aid kit and cleaned the wounds.
"Do we need to leave?" he asked.
"No, had a disagreement playing pool."
"Yeah."
"He didn't like that I won."
"Played the dumb college kid, huh."
Sam smirked. "Works every time."
"We'll finish breakfast and head out. I think I found us a hunt in Wisconsin," Dean said putting the first aid kit back in his bag.
"I saw her," Sam whispered.
"What?"
"The little girl. Her name was Hannah."
Dean sighed. Sam had been doing that lately. Like he was keeping score and it only counted if he had a name. "You shouldn't have…"
"I know," Sam said standing. "This time I really needed to know."
"She's not a ghost Sam. This is about you not her."
"Don't you think I know that? That's why I didn't tell you."
"Sam, you can tell me anything."
"I've been seeing her for weeks, Dean. Every time I close my eyes, when I'm asleep, when I'm awake. I can't get her out of my head."
"Why?" Dean asked. "It can't be just because she's a kid. There've been kids before. What about her is getting to you?"
"It was my fault."
"Sam…"
"She wasn't dead, Dean!" Sam yelled. He turned, his shoulders hunched as the memory assaulted him again.
He hurried around the corner, the cries becoming louder, more desperate. The realization that it was a child, made him move faster.
He stopped in the doorway appalled by what he saw. The creature held the girl against the wall licking at the blood trailing down her arms. The girl struggled under its hold, the strong hand around her neck stopping the screams he had heard moments earlier. Her eyes met Sam's, and she stopped struggling.
Sam raised his gun, but the creature was quicker, driving its claws into her belly.
"No!" Sam cried as he fired the gun.
The creature and the girl fell. Sam ran to her side, pulling her to the other side of the room away from the creature. Blood poured from the wound in her abdomen and bubbled out of her mouth. Her eyes locked on his, as she struggled to breath.
"It's ok," Sam whispered.. But she wasn't ok, and Sam knew that. There was too much blood. He watched her breathing slow until it stopped and her eyes glaze over.
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"Breath, Sam. Please." The desperation in Dean's voice pulled him back. With more effort than he should have needed he opened his eyes and found himself on the floor propped against the wall.
"What happened?" Sam asked.
"You fainted."
"I what?"
"Keeled over. Came close to smacking your head on the dresser."
"Sorry," Sam whispered, rubbing his temple.
Dean sat down next to him, their shoulders touching. "Sam…"
"I was too slow. She was hurt, but she was still alive. I hesitated."
"Why?" Dean asked.
"You'd think after everything we've seen that nothing would surprise me, but I wasn't prepared for that. To walk into that room and see…" He stopped, his voice catching in his throat.
Dean sighed heavily. Any hunt involving kids just plain sucked.
"She was so small," Sam whispered. "That thing had her against the wall, but what got me the most were her eyes. She was scared, yes, but when she saw me… I was supposed to save her, Dean."
"Sam…"
"No," Sam said standing. "There's nothing you can say that will change the fact that I screwed up, and she died."
"Damn it, Sam," Dean said glaring at his brother from his spot on the floor. "You're not responsible for everybody."
"I'm not talking about everybody, I'm talking about one little girl."
"And next week it will be about the two victims who died the day before we got to the hunt, and the week after, it will be somebody else. Why are you doing this? You were the one who told me you can't save everyone."
"Doesn't mean I can't try or that when I don't…" his anger faded and with it his argument.
Dean suddenly saw this for what it was. God, he was an idiot. This had nothing to do with the little girl and everything to do with him. "This was my choice, Sam. I did this, not you. Whether or not you find a way to save me, it's not your fault."
Sam laughed without humor. "You can't honestly believe that. This is completely my fault. You're going to Hell because I died."
"My choice."
"No," Sam said. "Not anymore."
He grabbed his coat and moved toward the door.
"Hey, we're not done," Dean said moving quickly to block the exit.
"Get out of my way," Sam growled.
"Why? So you can find someone else to take this out on."
"Dean."
"Hit me if it will make you feel better, but it won't change anything. I choose to do this." Sam looked away. "You need to get that, Sam."
His eyes were hard when they met Dean's, but the slight glistening gave away his true feelings. "I get why, Dean."
"Then why are you fighting me on this?
"Because you wouldn't have had to make that deal if I hadn't died, and I died because I made the wrong choice."
"What?" Dean asked confused.
"Jake."
"Sam, you couldn't have…"
"I had the chance, Dean. I could have stopped all of this from happening if I had just killed Jake. Instead, I turned my back on him, and I died."
Dean eyed his brother. It was hard to argue with logic, but he could try.
"If you had killed Jake, that yellow eyed bastard would have won, Sam."
"Maybe."
"Maybe? Sam," Dean protested. "That freak put you in that ghost town to kill each other. Being the last one standing meant being his."
"You don't know that."
"Don't I? The demons can't stop talking about how you were going to be their great leader. What other conclusion is there?"
"He gave Jake the colt, Dean. Jake didn't know what he could do with it. I would have."
"Sam." Dean wanted him to stop. He was beginning to wish he hadn't started this.
"I could have stopped him and prevented all of this from happening, but I didn't. Hundreds of demons are loose and in a couple of months I'm going to be alone. Alone to fight a war I can't win." Defeated, he sat down heavily on the bed.
"So that's it. I have what, a little under five months to live and you're giving up."
"I didn't say that. It's just…"
"I know, Sam. It sucks. If I'd had another option I would have taken it, but I'm not going to stand here and tell you I'd go back and change it, because I wouldn't. You'd be dead, and I can't…" Dean turned away angry at his weakness.
"I hate this," Sam whispered. "Time keeps slipping away, and I haven't figured it out. What if I can't?"
"I don't know, but the fear of failing can't keep us from trying."
Sam snickered. "That sounded practically philosophical, Dean Winchester."
"Shut up," Dean said sitting down across from him.
"So we keep trying, is that what your saying?"
"I don't want to die, Sam, and not just for me. That's a big reason, but not the only one. How am I supposed to protect you if I'm not here?"
"You don't need to protect me anymore, Dean."
"I'll always need to protect you Sam. That's my job as big brother."
"It's my job too, Dean."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Dean said standing and grabbing his bag. "The next hunt is a two day drive."
Sam sighed and grabbed his own bag.
"And Sam," Dean said opening the door and letting his brother go first. "The next time you see something and don't tell me, I'm kicking your ass."
Sam laughed all the way to the car.