"My Resolution"
Mystic25
Summary: Fill in the blank to "The Werther Project"
Rating: T for imagery, language, and situations.
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"It's true that nothing in this world makes us so necessary to others as the affection we have for them."
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe The Sorrows of Young Werther
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Dean bent low with a creek of his knees and reached inside for a book that looked old enough to distentergrate if he looked at it cross-eyed. He retrieves it with a 'what the?' expression, turning it over like he was trying to read the half rubbed out markings on a bar of soap, then door to the Box with a final slam.
"Dean-"
Sam said Dean's name around the blood loss that hung over his eyes like low lying fog. His gashed arm is choked off from more blood flow by a dirty blue bandana and the Werther Box stands like the pyre on consecrated sacrificial ground, and Dean is holding the Codex without the true realization of what he found.
Sam blinked grit from his eyes, swallowing down explanations that want to come out from a loose tongue created by hypovolemia and the spell Magnus created to protect the Werther Box. He stared at Dean with a vision fragmented in an aurora more painful than his former migraines while the blue bandana continued to drink the blood from the gashes in his arm. He doesn't remember reality for a moment, he must've said Dean's name again as stretched out as pulled twill because he came back to the world by the feeling of Dean's hands holding to his neck.
"Hey- Sammy!-"
Dean slapped Sam hard again against the area that still stung from time of moments ago when he had done it before. Sam jerked back like a defibrillation.
Dean grabbed Sam's shirt when his brother began to loll backwards fast enough to crack his skull against the stone floor of the basement. "Hey, no!" Dean shook Sam harder. "Don't you do it!" He grabbed at Sam's neck again, and the muscles there felt like they'd been replaced by rubber. "Come back-Hey-!"
Sam's eyes opened inches from Dean's face, staring into the haze of his brother that he could see, trying to form the resolution in the sinews of his muscles to move and snatch the Codex from Dean's hand, to keep safe what he drained nearly half of himself for. But the means of obtaining the object he wanted resulted in the weakness that prevented him from moving anywhere but in a downward slide towards the concrete.
"Sam!"
Dean calling his name was like a hand jerk that drew Sam back up; and this time he made a grab towards the book with a flail of arms and a weaponless hand.
"Hey, Sammy! Sammy-stop!" Dean reached and grabbed at his arm, digging his fingers into the free flowing blood, making Sam white out any other sense except that and the need to escape the sensation. "It's over!-alright? It's done-"
"You're done." Dean's hand is back on Sam's head in a movement that glides over his mind with rough callousness.
"The book-" Sam says this on a voice half drained away from blood loss.
"Book's fine man," Dean flipped the book over like he wanted to burn it right there on the basement floor for all the carnage it wrought to get it out of its hiding place. "You're not. C'mon-" He fully clamped his hand down on Sam's cut flesh adding more pressure and pulled himself up onto his feet, taking Sam with him.