GONE BOYS
Part 1.
DEAN.
(one hour gone)
Sam's face is white across from him in the back of the armored van. Puppy dog eyes unconsciously making an appearance in worry and distraction. Fingers tremble and wring themselves in the hem of his coat, his left leg vibrates in one of Sam's more noticeable nervous tells. Their eyes meet nearly every second of the ride to wherever they are going.
This is one they don't know how to get out of.
Sam is looking at him...he's back to being a little boy and looking to Dean to fix everything. And Dean, God help him, can't fix this, damnit. (Not like when Sam was four and he managed to break a pair of dad's binoculars. Sam had come to him trembling with fear and regret, the broken pieces in his hands and watched with big, hero-worshiping eyes as Dean put the binoculars back together and saved the day once again. He'll never forget the light and admiration in Sam's baby eyes, the way it made Dean feel, the feeling that he could make the world perfect for his little brother.) Dean lowers his eyes in shame and anxiety, no, he can't fix this one, he has no idea how to get them out of this.
The cuffs are cold and cruel against the skin of his wrists and years and years of freedom, wind on his face and the impala eating up highway has programmed him to hate this...his mind screams with the wrongness of it. He is meant to be free and wild, the modern day cowboy. He's used to sleeping under the night sky and howling at the moon so to speak...it's who they are, how they were raised.
He and Sam thrive on freedom and each other like the necessity of air and gravity itself. Their souls orbit around each other in a preordained order like the sun and moon. The stars appear and disappear each in their own time just like love and devotion and a strong sense of justice takes turns ruling the Winchester's minds. They can't be stifled, they can't be smothered by rules and iron bars...they can't survive like that.
The van comes to a rough halt throwing both boys against the wall. Dean listens as the door is unlocked from the outside and tenses, squints his eyes as they open and bright sunlight accosts his dulled senses. Then hands are on him pulling him out of the van...
Pulling him away from Sammy.
He resists on instinct trying to jerk himself out of the restraining hold and throw himself towards Sam. He's rewarded with what feels like a baton in his stomach and his body and cheek thrust into rough sand. He waits for the darkness to clear from his vision and arches his body against the knee in his back trying to find Sam's face, fingers clenching handfuls of useless sand and air.
"Sam," he barely grunts out, the air knocked from him.
"Dean!" He hears Sam cry desperately, hears a soft 'whoosh' of air as if Sam got punched in the gut, and then the sound of calls and struggles fade away.
True panic starts setting in as Dean realizes he's being separated from his brother.
...
(three hours gone)
He finally lays burning, dry eyes on his brother again when they're brought together in a long grey hallway. Sam's clad in the same greenish-grey overalls as him. Doesn't look any better on Sam then it did on Dean either.
Sam has a darkening bruise forming on the lower right corner of his mouth to match Dean's blackening eye...seems they both had behavioral issues. Their eyes jump to meet, relief flowing from both of them and pooling sweetly in the space between them. Sam's lips lift in a barely there smile that lifts his tired, stressed eyes just a little.
Dean reaches out for his little brother before he even knows what he's doing. Reaches towards freedom, sanity, comfort and company...security and the only presence he completely trusts. Wants to wrap himself in that warmth and safety, wants to be that to Sam too. His hand is hit away nastily with a black baton. He hisses, and Sam's eyes darken and his lips slim into a desperate line.
"No touching!" The guards behind them yell, pushes them apart and Dean sends them a nasty look. They're jerked away from each other as one of the guards unlocks a heavy metal door. "Get in." He snarls at Dean and Dean's heart stops beating as his wide eyes follow Sam as he's pulled down the hall and away from him.
The guard has both hands flattened on his chest and is shoving him into the claustrophobic cell as his brother's pale, anxious face gets farther and farther away.
"No," he grunts out, fighting with all his might, pushing against the brute force of the guard in front of him, "Where are you taking my brother? Sam!"
The door closes on him but not before he hears Sam's muffled yell of his name. The walls close in on his suffocatingly, his chest tightens with panic and lack of breath and fresh air. The severity of their situation hitting him fully with the absence of Sammy.
He slams both fists into the door in anger, frustration and desperation, "SAM!" He yells, forehead hitting the cold metal barrier. Fists useless and aching on the thick iron.
He doesn't know it now but over the next few days this heart chilling memory will be the only comfort he has to wrap around himself...the only warmth to cushion the bitter cold of loneliness, the only sanity that keeps the walls from slimming and crushing him between their grey faces, the only hope that they'll be together again, that they'll breathe free air again, that they'll sit together side by side in the impala again...the last time he was with Sam, the last time he heard his voice.
The last time Dean saw his face.
...tbc
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! Half the hiatus is gone at least, lol! More of this coming soon, hope you like!? ;)