:
I turned to watch him as he fell, time slowing down to almost a halt to allow me to better appreciate the horror of the moment, as if it was my punishment for not being able to protect Sam.
When the bullet hit, Sam's surprise was mine. My flesh reverberated with a ghostly pain in synch and sympathy with what my brother must be feeling.
:
The seconds ticked past interminable, from the expression of incredulity on his face to the blood bubbling from his gut, the hands lifting to cover the wound, the fall to the floor like some wounded animal, the blood staining his shirt, spreading out like a red river with each beat of his heart.
It was my biggest nightmare coming true, a repetition of Cold Oak, when I'd held my brother in my arms, Sam's last breath expelled from his lungs as his head lolled down boneless on my shoulder.
Now nine years later it was happening again, but this time, Sam wasn't dead, not yet anyway. I'd get him to an hospital or die trying.
There wasn't the minimum doubt in my mind that if Sam left me, I'd be right there on his tail. My little brother was all I lived for, he'd be all I'd die for. And I'd do it with a smile on my face, knowing he'd be there to welcome me.
:
The Empty? I didn't care.
We'd be together and that's all that mattered to me.
I was comforted by the knowledge that Sam felt the same way. Once he'd have riled and bitched about getting a life, having a 'normal' relationship, settling down, but things had changed, we both knew it.
There was no more talk of normal.
There was only us, me and Sam.
We were more at ease with each other than we'd ever been, our bond of brothers stronger than ever. Sometimes from the corner of my eye I imagined I saw something shimmering between us, some kind of freaky New-Age aura. Pure imagination, I know, but still.
Sam was the most important thing in the world to me and without any words or embarrassing chick-flick moment, I was irremediably certain I was for him too.
:
As my brother's body hit the floor, I was on him, cradling his head in my arms, murmuring soft words for his ears alone, the other two humans in the room forgotten. Sam's hurt and my anguish cordoning us off from the rest of the world.
Unfortunately, the pull of duty towards the two victims of the werewolf attack came to the fore and I rushed into the woods outside the cabin. We'd carry Sam to the ER in a makeshift litter.
He'd be fine. At least that's what I kept telling myself while I literally attacked the trees and branches to build my stretcher.
I couldn't have known of the betrayal taking place in the cabin at my and Sam's expense. If I'd had, then there would have been one victim less, with a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, courtesy of Dean Winchester.
But I didn't know and my heart stopped beating metaphysically, if not in practice, when it seemed Sammy was truly dead.
:
I ushered the victims to a main road, turning quickly to get back to the cabin and to Sammy, but the next thing I knew I woke in an hospital bed with a pall of utter blackness hanging over me at the thought of Sam lying dead and abandoned in that fucking cabin.
I had only one card to play, it was a bum one at that, but it was all I had.
Billie however didn't want to play, and though I hadn't wanted to believe she'd be so determined to follow through on her threat of 'no more Winchester resurrections', I did now.
But for once Winchester luck was good, Sam was still alive and if I was technically dead, it didn't last, thanks to the good doctor who managed to pull me back to the land of the living just as Billie held out her hand to lead me away.
In the end my wounded, hurt, suffering, stubborn little bitch of a brother saved my ass, and God was I glad to see him!
:
He duly passed out on the floor of the hospital when he knew I was safe, and after bags of blood and much surreptitious hand-holding and silent attestations of love on my part, at least until Sammy came round, he began to heal.
After a day or two, the geek was as good a new, the only souvenir of the experience a new line of stitches to decorate his belly, and the way things had been goin' we were both fine with it.
:
"What did you do when you thought I was dead? " Sam asked when we slid into the Impala, a twinkle in his eye.
Committed suicide; pleaded with a reaper; was ready to die in your place; would have been the honest answer, but I was a patented liar so that's what I did, I lied!
"Do over your room, have a party."
:
Sam gave me one of his smug, little brother smiles. He knew I was just shitting but he wasn't going to prod.
He well understood what a Winchester was capable of when their sibling died, Sam had done the same things for me and there was no doubt in our minds that we'd keep on saving each other until the day, if it ever came, that we'd be ass-kicked into the Empty.
The end