We had fog where I live for the past couple of days... so depressing! So it's only fitting that I write a story about it, right? LOL
I own nothing and I'm sorry for all the grammar/spelling mistakes you're gonna find.
Enjoy.
The fog was so thick, even the birds were rather walking on the floor, too afraid they'd crash into trees with their peaks.
It was curling around the bushes, the trees, the leaves, the fern… caressing everything that stood in its way. Tiny specks of water were being left behind on the green leaves, long fingers of fern and Sam's hair.
"Dean!"
Sam's scream cut through the whiteness of the fog, like a knife does through skin; sharp, cold and painful.
"Dean!"
The fog moved around the scream, hugging it, muffling it, not allowing it to get to where it needed to be.
"Dean!"
It mocked him, everything mocked him. The sounds in the forest – birds, leaves moving, twigs snapping - the wind on his sweaty face – cooling his skin, making goose bumps spread over his neck - the high trees above him – thick branches making the fog disperse around them, branches full of leaves - the round rocks underneath him – poking him in his back.
Soldiers don't panic.
"Dean!"
It hurt… everything hurt so bad… pain like a snake crawling through his veins. He knew his leg was the center of it, knew because the angle his leg was in… was so very, very wrong.
"Dean!"
The fog brought wetness with it, tiny little drops of water; not rain, not drizzle… the wetness was just there, plastering his hair to his cheeks, forehead, nape.
"De-ean!"
He clashed his teeth together when the snake in his veins made his muscles spasm… twitch and shiver.
Soldiers don't cry.
"Dean!"
He lay back down on the leafy ground, not minding the mud and the cold that seeped through his shirts to hit his skin.
He was cold anyway... numb fingers and almost frozen cheeks.
He closed his eyes… the darkness beneath his eyelids was so different from the whiteness of the world… his head started to hurt. Bad. Throbbing vein in his temple.
Soldiers don't give up.
"Dean!"
The sun was somewhere up on the sky, but it was impossible to see it… could only feel its fading heat.
"Dean!"
His throat was starting to hurt; he was getting hoarse… the cold, the pain, the thick fog forcing its way into his mouth, his teeth ached, his fingers grabbing for his jeans, breathing hard, little puffs of air going up to the sky.
"Dean…"
He opened his eyes, looked up into the invisible sky, seeing only whiteness, clean and bright, his fingers tearing holes into his jeans.
Is this it? 's this how it's gonna end?
Soldiers feel no fear.
-:-
"Sam!"
Finding his brother was hard work. People say 'follow the sound of someone's voice and you'll find the person', but Dean knows that's a bunch of crap.
He followed Sam's voice alright, but it echoed in the woods, bouncing off of tree trunks. Once he heard it on his left, then on his right, then in front of him and behind himself…
… and when he saw a weird looking mass of something that didn't quite look like rocks and didn't quite look like a bush...
… he ran to it…
… and then he wished he hadn't.
-:-
"Sam, wake up!"
"Sammy…"
His brother opened his eyes so fast it knocked Dean on his ass.
Relief washed over Sam… making his body dissolve into the ground where he was lying on. Dean was there. He was there. Things will be okay now.
Soldiers have faith.
"Dean…"
Sam panted up at the sky - it was the only way to get some air into his lungs - seeing Dean's wide eyes and hair laying down over his scalp; wet from the fog.
Breathing stung; the air moving down his throat; it was too cold, too wet, too thick. It felt like he was eating the fog, chewing it when he grid his teeth together in pain.
But the fog didn't care. It found its way through his hoodie, over shirt, T-shirt, jeans… it crawled right to his flushed skin, making it wet, making his clothes stick to his too hot skin.
"Okay, okay, 's okay."
Dean ran his cold hands over Sam's body, not knowing where, what, how, why. Sam shuddered; his muscles tight, his leg unmoving.
His eyes were wide matching his brother's, wet hair making its way into them, it felt like a needle stab; shirts, jeans, jacket all wet; mud on his neck, mud on his knuckles; his fingers still gripping his jeans for leverage and escape. But his brother was here now… it'll be fine.
Soldiers trust.
"Dean!"
"I gotcha, just lay back down, wouldya…"
The leaves made a sound when Sam's back and head hit them.
"Oh man, fuuck…"
"Yeah, you can say that again. Can you feel this?"
"Ow, yeah, oh man…stop it! Yeah I can feel it, feel it just… fin -fuck!"
"Okay, so… we shouldn't touch that then."
"Ya think?"
"Don't be such a pussy."
"Arhh… shut up, man! Just shut uppp…"
Sam grimaced and the fog rolled around his face like it was trying to smooth out his pain.
Soldiers feel no pain.
-:-
"Sam."
"Yeah?"
The snap the bone made when it was returned to its right place was sharp, slicing through the thickness of the fog, getting lost in the white coldness of it.
"Deeeeeeean!"
"Just go down, Sam.. just go down, wouldja?"
Sam closed his eyes and went down.
A soldier knows when to go down.
The End. See? Depressing.