Author's Note #1: We're all inside, toasty warm and dry, while Hurricane Sandy starts to really rage outside...perfect opportunity to sit down, write, and finish off my drabble which was already late.
This story can stand alone, though I consider it a follow up, or a chapter 2, to my previous drabble, "From Here To Reality." You don't necessarily have to read that one to understand this; just some brotherly love and support...which seems to be in sort supply so far this season. And judging from Wednesday's previews, things are about to get worse, but I'm trying to hang on, be patient, and have faith that Carver will bring the boys back to where they belong.
Author's Note #2: Thanks as always to Riathe Mai, for her awesome editing skills, and her even awesomer suggestion for a title. ;-)
ooOOoo
"No… You're wrong…No…No…No."
Instinct.
Intuition.
Big brother sixth-sense.
Dean didn't know— didn't care—what had pulled him back to the motel. All he knew was it hadn't been soon enough.
Taurus in one hand, Demon knife in the other— white-knuckled grip on both—Sam sat on the edge of the bed; slowly rocking back and forth, eyes wide, body coiled tight.
"Shutupshutupshutupshutup…."
"Sammy." Dean's voice was quiet, gentle. He waited, dreading which way his brother's mind would go; break or snap.
Dreading both, prepared for either.
He let his brother fall once, he'd be damned if he let it happen again.