Nothing is Guaranteed
By: NC Girl
Note: Again, I'm really new to this whole creative writing thing. This is just another exercise on my part. It takes place sometime during season 2, but is not tied to any specific episode- although I wrote it sometime between Croatoan and Playthings. I would really appreciate feedback of all kinds- what worked, what didn't, suggestions, etc.
Disclaimer: The standard disclaimer applies.
Goddamnit.
"Sam!"
I barely recognized my own voice when I bellowed his name. I pondered that for the briefest of seconds before trying it again.
"Sam, where the hell are you?"
Smoke was getting thick, making it hard to see and breathe and think. My eyes watered yet felt dry and prickly at the same time. The back of my throat felt raw and bruised. Somewhere behind me I heard part of the roof collapse and I instinctively took several running steps forward, towards the formal dining room, with my head down and arms outstretched in front of me.
"Sam-my!"
Okay, truth be told, I was on the verge of panic. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears and the tightness of anxiousness was gripping my chest. Sam had disappeared around the corner just after the fire started and I had not seen him since. Granted, it had likely only been about a minute and a half, but at the rate this fire was burning, engulfing the structure around us, we were both going to be in a lot of trouble very soon.
Off to my right a window popped and shattered, sending glass and flaming debris flying. Again, I found myself ducking and inching closer to the front door while my eyes scanned the thick, brown fog for my brother.
"Dean!"
I heard Sam's rough voice over the roar of the blaze a split second before I felt his hand close tightly around my elbow. In an instant, the vice of worry around my chest released its grip and the pounding pulse of panic in my ears quieted as Sam pulled me toward the open door. He released his hold when we reached the threshold, but was never more than an arm's length away as we ran down the porch steps and across the yard, not stopping until we reached the car.
Through my own watering eyes and dry coughing, I noticed Sam lean heavily on the hood of the Impala. His hands were splayed in support as deep whooping coughs wracked his body in an attempt to rid his lungs of smoke. His head was hanging down below his shoulders and the kid actually looked a little gray.
I was suddenly transported back about ten years when Sam was 12 or 13 and let a kid in one of our apartment complexes pressure him into giving cigarettes a try. I'm sure that in Sam's mind, it was just another way to royally piss-off dad, but in the end, it was my genius brother who spent an hour throwing up and suffering miserably, his face the same shade of gray that it was now.
A loud, crunching noise pulled my attention from my hacking brother to the burning farmhouse behind us. Sam and I both whipped around just in time to see the majority of the second story fall in to the ground floor. Large, white-hot flames poked out of every opening and a cloud of black smoke and debris billowed from the top. Without warning, a surge of adrenaline pushed through my body and I lunged toward Sam, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pushing him up against the car.
"Where the fuck were you, Sam?" I couldn't yell loud enough to satisfy my anger.
To my brother's credit, he barely flinched. And that just pissed me off even more.
"Goddamnit!" I spat and shoved him against the door one more time, using every last bit of self-control to keep from hitting him. I could feel every muscle in my body shaking with so much emotion that I really didn't know what to do with myself. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to shake him. I wanted to hug him. That was just too damn close. Another 45 seconds in that house and he would have been dead. We would have been dead. I started pacing. I paced the length of the car, in front of Sam, and banged my fist on the trunk, roof, and hood every so often to emphasize my anger.
"Dean, I'm-"
Oh, that did it.
"Don't, Sam. Don't you fucking say it. Don't you fucking talk to me. Don't you fucking even look at me right now." I ground out those words quietly, but with so much anger and venom that I actually scared myself a bit. "Get in the car."
Again, to Sam's credit, he shut his pie hole, pushed himself away from the side of the Impala, and walked around to the passenger's door without a word. Smart kid.
I yanked the driver's door open with too much force, got in the car, and slammed it shut again with too much rage. Out of the corner of my eye, I finally saw Sam flinch ever so slightly, but his gaze remained straight ahead. Within 20 seconds of pulling onto the main road from the dirt drive leading to the burning farmhouse, we passed two screaming fire trucks.
I drove east for nearly 30 minutes, stewing in anger. Sam was smart enough to keep his trap shut and if it were possible, I think he would have made himself invisible as well. We rode in silence, with only the roar of the engine to camouflage my steadying breaths as I tried to calm myself- for my sake, not Sam's. So, when my brother suddenly lunged forward, grabbed the door handle, and said "pull over!" in a slight panic, I barely took time to check the rear-view mirror before sliding over to the shoulder.
Sam had the door open and was halfway out before the car fully stopped. I instinctively whipped my right arm out and grabbed his belt to keep him from falling out of the moving car. His foot hit the ground a split second after we stopped and I released my hold. Sam fell to his knees and emptied his stomach on the side of the road. Shit.
"Shit."
I shoved the gear-shift into park, turned off the engine, and got out of the car. By the time I reached my brother, his complexion had changed from gray to green. He still had one hand braced on the car's door frame and it was probably the only thing keeping him from eating asphalt at this moment.
"Serves you right, dude. If you had not run off-"
I said it calmly. I did!
"Dean. Not now."
His hoarse reply was curt, but calm and quiet. And then he started round two.
While Sam was occupied with retching, I went to the trunk and retrieved the large, half-empty bottle of Gatorade from the night before. When I slammed the trunk closed, I found that Sam had pulled himself upright and was now leaning heavily against the car, head resting on folded arms on the roof. I made my way over to him to offer the drink.
"Sam-"
He turned his head a fraction of an inch toward me for a split second before pushing himself off the car in the opposite direction. He dropped to his knees and started round three.
This time he was faced with dry heaves which, as we all know, are so much worse than the real thing. I put the bottle of Gatorade on the roof of the car and stepped over to Sam, wrapping one arm around his middle and bracing his forehead with the other. Instantly, he leaned into the hold obviously needing the extra support. I waited patiently for the heaving to cease and grimaced every time I felt his stomach muscles seize. By the time he was finished, the kid looked completely exhausted and most of my previous anger had been diluted. He sat back on his haunches and I shifted my hold to the top of his shoulder, pushing myself upright. After a few moments, I reached out, snagged his upper arm, pulled him back to the car, and guided him to the passenger's seat.
"Sam, sit down."
The fact that I got no argument from him only proved how drained he was. The fact that he was now shaking only proved how dehydrated he had become. I retrieved the bottle from the car's roof and handed it to him.
"Here. Finish this off. But do it slowly, alright? If it comes back up, you're going to be out of luck for about an hour or so until we reach the next town."
Sam raised his eyes and held my gaze for a couple of seconds before taking the bottle and giving me a nod of thanks. I watched him take the first sip before I walked to the front of the car and got comfortable on the hood. I leaned back against the windshield, closed my eyes beneath my sunglasses, and let the afternoon sun work its magic. Between the fresh air and warm sun, I realized that I was dangerously close to drifting off. Only Sam's deep, barking cough pulled me back to reality.
"You okay?"
I felt the car dip as I heard the hoarse whisper of his reply.
"Yeah."
I opened one eye to find my brother sitting on the edge of the hood, furthest from me.
"Geez, Sammy. You look like shit."
"Thanks."
The kid sounded defeated and I suddenly felt a twinge of guilt for the way I treated him earlier. Not that I wasn't justified, but I probably should have made sure he was physically okay after all the smoke inhalation before I tore into him.
Several long moments passed in silence. I tried to focus my attention on the chirping birds overhead, the occasional passing car, the wind. Anything but Sam. Right now, it was too hard. Too hard to try to figure out what he had been thinking. Too hard to face the fact that I was literally seconds from losing him all together. Too hard to remember that he is all I've got left in this world and losing him… Damnit, there I go focusing again.
"Sammy, are you trying to kill me, man?" I was surprised at how tired I sounded, even to myself.
I looked at my brother and waited for some kind of response. Some kind of reaction. But he only pulled his feet up to rest on the front bumper and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and his forehead on his hands. My patience was wearing thin and I thought about how my blood pressure must have been climbing to new heights. Well, that and the fact that all I wanted to do was grab my kid brother and shake the shit out of him until he explained what the hell he was thinking by running off in that 2000 square foot pile of burning kindling-with-a-front-door. With another frustrated sigh, I slid off the hood and yanked the driver's door open. I took great effort to maintain an even tone to my voice.
"Sam, let's go. And watch your step. You get any puke in my car and you'll be cleaning her from inside out. With your toothbrush."
The ride back to the motel was made in silence. Sam still looked somewhat pale, but it was a vast improvement from before. Most of his coughing has subsided, but he still hadn't said more than one or two words. All of this silence only made my temper flare again. Once we were both inside the room at The Knotty Pine motel, I slammed the door with all of my pent up energy from the ride over. Sam whipped around as if he actually wasn't expecting it. Uh… Hi. I'm Dean. Have we met?
"You've got three seconds to start talking, buddy boy."
I. was. pissed. I had had enough. I wanted some goddamn answers and I wanted them… an hour ago!
"Dean, I screwed up. I know."
Well, what do you know? The kid found his voice.
"No shit, Captain Obvious. But you didn't just screw up, Sam. You've been hunting since you were nine years old. Rule fucking number one is that we stick together unless you have a fucking good reason to do otherwise. You know that! Now tell me what the hell you were thinking!"
Sam let out a deep sigh and rubbed at the back of his neck and shoulder. He wouldn't- or couldn't- look at me.
"I saw…"
His voice trailed off as if he didn't want to end that sentence or even finish that thought. Being this close to an explanation, but not getting it, was all I could stand.
"What, Sam?! What in God's name did you see that was so-"
"I saw a way out, okay? I saw a way to take the burden off of you."
Suddenly, I felt sick. I felt lightheaded and dizzy and dazed and well, just plain sick. Yet I still couldn't wrap my mind around the words that just came out of my brother's mouth. I heard them. I understood them. But I could not accept them. Not from him. I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.
"Dean, man, I'm sorry."
Sam sat next to me, his voice soft and desperate. Desperate for me to understand. Yeah, like that'll happen. When I felt his hand on my sleeve, I jerked out of his grip and stood to pace the room, running my hands though my hair and rubbing the back of my neck and I did so. Sam calmly continued with his explanation of his ass-like stupidity. Hey, I call it like I see it.
"Dean, knowing what I know…now… it's killing me, Dean. People keep dying around me, I seem to be the common denominator and there doesn't seem to be a damn thing I can do about it. And now… now I find out that the demon is definitely after me. And that he will find me and that I'll turn into something ev-"
"NO!"
I didn't even realize that I had said anything until Sam stopped talking and stood up in front of me. His eyes were pleading with me and were gleaming with brewing tears. Yet his voice was controlled and entirely too "matter-of-fact" for my liking.
"Evil, Dean. I'll turn evil. And there won't be anything that you can do about it."
"Watch me, Sam."
I was surprised and a little embarrassed by the raw emotion in my voice. I pushed past Sam, grabbed my bag, and started packing. Sam reached over and grabbed my wrist and held on tightly. I stopped moving but couldn't bring myself to look at him. I was barely keeping the cracks in my foundation patched and spackled as it was, but seeing my brother this scared while accepting his so-called fate without question was enough to bring all the walls- ones that I had spent a lifetime building- down around me. And they were high enough that if they crumbled, they would burry me completely.
"Dean, we can't run from this and you know it. Dad said that this thing will catch up with us and that you'll have reason to kill me. Man, he wouldn't have said that if it wasn't going to be bad. And I can't let you kill me. I can't let you accept that burden. I can't let you to live with that the rest of your life."
I couldn't bring myself to look at him, but I could hear the emotion threatening to break my brother which, in turn, would break me. Please, Sam. Hold it together. As if on cue, he took a calming breath. But he did not let go of my wrist. Instead, he tightened his grip a bit before continuing. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and calmer. And he sounded more childlike than he had in years.
"Dean, you're all I've got. You're my brother. In a lot of ways, you were my father. You're my best friend. And now, you're my entire family You are the one person- you've always been the one person- that I count on, no mater what. But I can't live and watch this… this… burden, this obligation, this destiny destroy you. I appreciate everything you've ever done for me. I love you and I respect you and I want to protect you, too, Dean. You have protected me all of your life. I just wanted to protect you for once. I owe you that much. I wanted to give you that much."
Shit, shit, shit. I couldn't stop the tears from pooling in my eyes, but I'd be damned if I'd let one fall. I looked up and turned to face my brother. I pulled my arm out of his grip and gently grasped the sides of his face in both of my hands. I had to know that he would hear what I had to say; that he would listen and understand and accept the words.
"Sammy. That is not your predetermined destiny. We got a warning that something could happen, but nothing about that warning is set in stone; nothing is guaranteed in writing. Do you understand me?"
Sam looked directly into my eyes and I held his stare for longer than either of us felt comfortable with. But knowing that he heard and understood what I was saying was the single most important thing to me at that time. He raised his hands and gently encircled my wrists again. Then slowly nodded. A tear fell from his eyes and I pretended not to notice.
"I know I almost made a huge mistake, Dean. I realized that while we were still in the house and I saw that you weren't going to leave as long as I was still in there. I would have killed you while trying to save you."
"Sammy-" I had to clear my throat before I could continue. "Sammy, we are in this together. You and me, kid. I promise that we'll both come out of this in one piece. You've just got to trust me. And I have to be able to trust you, too. Don't ever do anything like that again, you hear me?"
I gave his head a slight shake to drive my point home. Sam smiled slightly and looked down again, but squeezed my wrists again and nodded. I pulled him forward and into a brief hug before releasing him with a solid punch to his shoulder.
"What do you say we go grab some food and call it a night? I'm exhausted. And you're buying."
END