I know it´s a year late, but ever since watching season twelves episode First Blood, I felt like there was missing something. Something like a brotherly hug after 6 long weeks of solitary confinement. Or at least the boys acknowledging each other other than: "You´re good?" "Been better!".
But the great thing is: If something isn´t shown on screen, we can still pretend it happened. So here is my little one-shot of how it could have been.
Thank you to the wonderful Jacki Leppee, who was so kind to beta read this text! Wouldn´t have dared to post it otherwise, because English isn´t my first language, but apparently she didn´t have to correct too many mistakes. Thank you, darling.
Now put on your grey prison jump suit and be ready to get into Sam´s headspace…
Time. Tiiiiiiime. Time time time.
„Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime."
He was painfully aware of each agonizingly slow passing second.
TIME. Timmmme.
"Ti-me".
Sam pictured the word in his head while he spoke it. Hm. Looks almost like tie - me. How fitting! Tied down by time. Bound tight and securely by an endless amount of time. Inescapable. He could almost physically feel long ropes, made of time, wrap and tighten around his neck. Breathing became difficult.
NO! No, no, no. Focus!
He concentrated hard to crawl out of that hole in his mind that slowly but surely led to craziness. Made his eyes focus, clawed his way back to reality.
Reality. What a reality! He scoffed. Four grey concrete walls, a green iron door, a too small bunk bed (no surprise here, beds always where too short for him), a prison toilet/sink and an aluminium mirror. That was it. That was his world. He could count all the things that surrounded him on one hand.
Hey, don´t forget the ceiling and the floor! Right. Mustn´t forget that. More concrete. He was surrounded by concrete. 34,51348 square meters of concrete to be exact. Well, more or less. He had measured it, using his feet and his body high as reference. The floor was roughly 8 by 6,5 ft. That made 52 ft² of concrete underneath him as well as above him. The height of the ceiling was more difficult du measure exactly, but he´d estimated it to be 10 ft. Which meant there where 80 ft² of the grey substance in front of him, 65 ft² to the right, only 42,5 ft² to the left wall, since he had to subtract the 22,5 ft² of iron door, and his back was leaning against another 80 ft² of cold concrete the way he was sitting on his cot. All in all he was surrounded by 371,5 ft² of the hated material. Or 34,51348 m².
You´re such a geek, Sammy! His brother's voice sounded clear as day in his head. His heart clenched painfully. He ached with despair. Not so much for himself, but for his brother. As much as he hated this place, feeling the torturous slow passing of time with nothing to do but to stare at grey walls till he felt his sanity slip away, this had to be so much worse for Dean! Sam himself always had been a rather introvert personality, he could sit for hours and read a book (God, I´d give anything for a book to read right now) or solve a problem or learn a new (old) language. Dean on the other hand was in a constant need for action. After two days in the bunker he would already be climbing the walls and needed to get out. Dean needed people around him, the wide open road before him and he needed the thrill of a hunt like others needed air. And every now and then Dean needed something to punch to let out his pent up anger and frustrations, his way of dealing with all his suppressed feelings. So locking Dean in a room of 371,5 ft² of concrete for weeks on end and with hardly a chance of ever getting out again? Yeah, no doubt, Dean was in a much worse state than himself. Sam really, truly worried about his brother. He knew, Dean was going stir crazy. That all his demons, all the feelings of guilt and horror he usually locked down deep inside himself, came to the surface, haunted him in his solitary confinement.
God, Dean, I wish I could be there for you. Could help you keep your demons at bay.
Not that Sam wasn´t haunted by his own horrors.
Wish, we could see each other. Keep each other's monsters away.
Sam swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat as he pictured the state his brother was in. He really shouldn't do that. He needed to get his feelings under control.
Okay, focus, Sam. Focus on the five things around you! Seven if he counted the ceiling and the floor. See? More than half a dozen. Now that doesn´t sound so bad! Besides, you got a mattress, a blanket, a pil-
Sam was so startled, that he hit his head on the wall behind him as all of a sudden a women in a leather jacket stood in front of him.
"Hey, Sam", she spoke in a deep, calm voice.
No, not a woman, a reaper.
"Billy?", came Sams automatic response, while his thoughts stuttered for a moment at the unexpected event of her appearance after weeks of NOTHING.
His very first thought was: I am dead!
But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn´t true. He had more than enough experience in being dead to know he wasn´t. So as soon as his brain started to work properly again, his intestines clenched painfully, his breath stuttered and his heart began to beat frantically in his chest, as the only conclusion as to her presence hit him.
"Dean!", he screamed, fear in his voice evident as he jumped to his feet. "Is he…?" He couldn´t finish the sentence.
No, it can´t be. Dean can´t be dead. No, please, no, no, no!
"Relax, Winchester! Dean is well and alive. He send me to talk to you." Billy spoke in her usual even tone that indicated, that she couldn´t be more indifferent. Yet, to Sam, it sounded like the sweetest music.
Dean is well and alive!
He felt the adrenaline rush subside. Whatever Billys presence meant, this was the first time in what seemed like an eternity that he heard word from his brother. The guards had strict order not to talk to him or to give him any information on Dean whatsoever. So this, hearing from Dean? This was good, even if the messenger was a friggin` reaper.
"Talk to me about what?" Ever the Winchester Sam managed to keep all his feelings under control again and he spoke apparently calmly to Billy.
"Dean wants to get out of here very desperately, it seems." Yeah, no kidding? "So he came up with a little plan. Asked for my help and promised me something in return."
That didn´t sound so good. A deal with a reaper?
"Deal is: I´m gonna kill you and bring you back to life one more time once your corpses are no longer in these cells. It´ll be up to you then to get outta here. But at midnight one of you comes with me."
Sam looked at Billy and swallowed hard. That was Dean's plan? Their freedom for one of their lives? And they should just trust Billy with their lives? Yet he knew Billy could kill him and his brother with the blink of an eye if she wanted to. She certainly didn´t need their consent. And as much as she believed that every last Winchester should just have stayed dead, she waited patiently till their lives ended naturally. Or probably not so naturally. So yes, the deal made kind of sense from her point of view. She wouldn't take their lives, at least not permanently. Wouldn´t throw their souls out into the empty. Not until midnight, that is. When one of them had to take matters of death in their own hand for good.
"So? What do you say?", Billy asked impatiently.
"Did Dean say anything else?" Sam wished he could talk to Dean about this.
"No, just that the deal only stands, if you agree to it as well."
Sam had known his brother was in a bad state, that his imprisonment was hell for him. Yet he had to swallow really hard on getting the confirmation of just how horrible Dean felt. If he willingly traded either of their lifes for the other ones freedom he really had to be at the end of his rope. A rope of tiiiiiiiime. Sam quickly pushed the unbidden thought away.
Billy, arms crossed, tapped an annoying rhythm with her shoe on the floor. Concrete!
"So, Winchester, what´s it gonna be?", she inquired.
Could he do it? Could he really do it? Either loose Dean or condemn him to a life without himself?
Sam stood up tall and looked Billy in the eye, as he said: "I need to see Dean."
"I ain´t your personal taxi service."
"If you want to reap one of us at midnight, I need to talk to my brother." Sam paused for a moment, before he swallowed his pride and added a big eyed: "Please!"
Billy stared him down for a moment with unmoving features before she said in a slightly exasperated tone: "Fine, you have three minutes, not a second more. I´ve got a few souls I have to attend to."
With that she snapped her fingers.
Sam wouldn´t have realised that he had changed places if it wasn´t for the familiar vertigo of teleporting and the fact that he and Billy weren't the only two people in the tiny cell anymore. Otherwise the place looked exactly like his own concrete cage.
Dean was apparently busy pacing back and forth in the confined space. He had his back turned to them, when they appeared, facing the door, one step away. Even though they didn´t make a sound he must have sensed them, because he turned around immediately. But obviously Dean had only expected Billy. When he saw Sam, his eyes went wide and his breath hitched for a moment.
Sam felt as if he couldn´t breathe himself. Dean, Dean, Dean, was all he thought as he reached out and pulled his brother into a bone crushing hug. By the time his hands had reached Deans shoulders, his brother had overcome his surprise and hugged him back with just the same desperate intensity.
They didn´t even care that they had an audience. They just stayed like this, bathing in the others presence, for a seemingly endless yet far too short moment, ignoring Billy who pointedly cleared her throat. Finally Sam remembered that they only had three minutes and he reluctantly pulled back, held Dean at arm's length and looked him in the eye. He tried to assess his brother's state, while Dean was doing the same with him.
Even though Dean looked just fine and healthy, Sam could tell he wasn´t well at all. That´s a vast understatement! There was a sadness and loneliness in his eyes, a desperation and hopelessness, that was embedded deep down in his soul. It hurt Sam to the core to see his brother like this. And yet he knew, that Dean saw the same in his own eyes. He knew then what he had to do.
Still, he had to make sure this was really what his brother wanted. Neither of the Winchesters had spoken a word yet, even though what they had communicated was far more anyone should think possible in a mere two minutes.
"Dean", Sam´s voice was rough with emotion, "that Deal … at midnight… you sure you wanna do this?"
"Sammy, this is consent. You don´t want to, it ain´t gonna happen. I just think we don´t have any other options here." Dean's eyes never left Sam's as he spoke.
Sam swallowed hard: "But who …?" He couldn´t finish the sentence. He didn´t need to.
"We´ll figure it out. First let´s get out of this hell."
A thousand thoughts ran through Sam's had, a thousand emotions fought for his attention. But in the end he had known his answer the moment he had laid eyes on his brother. He needed to do this for Dean. He needed to do this for himself. Sam took a deep breath and broke eye connection to Dean as he ran a hand down his face, turning around to address Billy.
Sam could feel the assuring warmth of Dean's presence in his back as he squared his shoulders and sealed their destiny with a steady voice:
"We have a deal."
So, guys, what do you think? It was only my second fanfic, and the first one in English. A little comment would be greatly appreciated.