Hola! This is my first SPN fanfiction, so it's not fantastic, but I am proud of it. I had a lot of fun writing it. Please comment your feedback so I can make my writing better in the future. Enjoy!
-Poet
The Moon had come up long ago, lights flipped off, curtains pulled shut. Meals had been eaten and children pecked on the cheek by tired parents. The shops were closed,
mannequins relaxed in the windows, their shadows were cast onto the tired sidewalks. Purrs of car engines had ceased long before and the usual chatter of voices became the chirping of night creatures, the good and the bad. Even the bars were closed, the 24-hour policy not being strictly upheld. The sun shone bright into the dark night, early morning on the last day of the week.
On the other side of the world, many were beginning to wake up and go about their business, but here the land went untouched by Dawn's slender fingers. Dreams drifted through the sky on their unspoken steeds, slipping into the quieted minds of children. One light flicked on in Room 4 of the old Rosemary Motel. A sleek black car, affectionately called Baby, idled in the designated parking spot. Two dark shadows could be seen through the tablecloth curtain, patterned with faded roses. The smaller shadow shook the larger one on the bed. He was ticked.
"SAM! Wake up," Dean said with a violent shaking of his little brother's shoulders. "Wake up, wake up, wake up! Dammit Sammy move your butt! We've got to move before sunup!"
The boy in question didn't seem to care. Dean shook the younger Winchester's shoulders again.
"Waaakkkeeeyyyy, waaaakey Sleeping Beauty! Rise and shine! Give God the glory or whatever! Waaaake up!"
Sam refused to move, only mumbled something about "you're the worst" (which Dean pointedly ignored), and rolled over. With a frustrated sigh, the older brother stalked into the bathroom and filled up a glass of water. He looked over at Sam and pointed a finger. "This is for your own good."
And then he threw the freezing cold glass of water in Sam's face.
"GAHHH! What the Hell?!" He was finally awake. The younger Winchester hastily stood up, gasping like a fish out of water. He rubbed his eyes with ferocity. Spluttering and coughing, Sam's eyes met Dean's. He was smirking in the corner. Understanding dawned in his face, and with it came a very murderous state of being.
"WHAT THE HECK DEAN!" He stalked closer and glared at his older brother. "I was getting up!"
Dean rolled his eyes. "No. You weren't. You were being a lazy pain in the you know what. Now shut your cakehole and get in the car. I already grabbed your stuff; we're leaving."
(7 Hours Later)
The car drove on in silence, albeit for the blaring of Kansas from the radio. Arkansas dropped away and became nowhere, an in between state. Sam shifted in his seat, then winced as his arm hit the dash. Dean looked over. He quickly covered it up with a cough, but his jaw stayed tight. Dean continued to glance over with suspicion.
"Sam," he said slowly. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
Sam looked over, a glint of guilt in his eyes. "Noooo," he said. Flustered, the younger Winchester shifted again, clearly favoring his right side.
"Sam!" Dean barked. Then softer, "Sammy, you're an awful liar. You better tell me what's wrong."
"It's nothing Dean, just a scratch, that's all."
"You got HURT and you didn't tell me?!" Dean's fingers drummed angrily on the steering wheel. He reached over and shut the music off. "What the hell man?!"
"Dean, it's just a scratch. That...Sara witch...got me in the arm with her knife but it's not even that deep. She grabbed me from behind but I knocked her out. I cleaned it up and it didn't even need stitches." Dean did not seem reassured.
Sam added, "It just stings a little." At that, Dean's eyes widened a bit.
"Not bad though," Sam said hastily, "Not bad at all." The older brother had stayed unconventionally quiet the entire time. Sam gulped. "Dean," he dragged the name out, "Are you alright?" He exploded.
"OF COURSE I'M ALRIGHT SAM! You, on the other hand, you could have been hurt worse! What if the knife had gone into your heart? What if it had been deeper?! What if...What if you bled out and I wasn't there?!" Sam flinched back. His voice was quiet. "Dean-"
"NO Sam! No more excuses! I'm going to be in Hell soon and you have to be able to take care of yourself. I won't be there to backup your ass! No, I'll be twenty thousand damn leagues under the ground and I. Don't. Want. To See. You. In. Hell. With. Me. Do you understand?"
Sam's face had gone a strange white-pale, his jaw clenched even tighter. His voice still quiet. "Dean-"
"Listen! I know it wasn't bad this time but it could be more careful and DON'T tell me I'm acting like Dad you have no right and-" he caught his breath, "I have worked too hard to keep you alive please. I don't want to go to Hell but I am to keep you alive. Please don't let that be for nothing, okay?" Finally, Dean looked over at Sam, only to find that he was shaking in his seat. Immediately, he softened up.
"Look Sam, I'm sorry okay? I overreacted."
"No-Dean-it's-" Sam choked out before he started coughing again, violently. Sam doubled over in his seat, hacking and hacking until he was wheezing just to get in air.
The Impala's tires squealed as it screeched over to the side of the road. Dean's hand found Sam's back.
"Sammy! Sammy what's wrong?!" Sam tried to talk but found he couldn't. He reached his hand up to cover his mouth and it came away with something warm and sticky: blood. Dean looked at it in horror, as did Sam. "What the hell is happening!" Dean said, thumping Sam on the back to try and dislodge whatever was stuck. Sam's response was to keep coughing.
Mercifully, finally, the lung-wrenching heaves stopped and Sam could breathe again. His shirt, brought up to cover his mouth, was speckled with blood. Dean stared. Sam fell against the car door, forcing it open and stumbled out into the night. Dean followed, shoving open his door and rushing around to grab Sam just before he fell. The older brother laid him against the side of the Impala, half cradling Sam in his arms.
"What happened Sammy? It's alright, catch your breath." When he looked into Sam's eyes, he could see them begin to fill with tears. He was struggling to catch his breath, gasping in the country air. "It's alright."
The little brother's gaze was wild, "I don't know-what's-help me!"
"I don't know what to do! What..what is going on?!" Dean frantically searched Sam and then remembered the knife wound. Shit, he thought. Sure enough, when he took off Sam's jacket and lifted up the sleeve, Sam grimaced in pain and cried out. Blood covered his white t-shirt. The gash was nasty, deep red and black veins crisscrossed away from it, the color of demon blood. Sammy writhed and twisted, as if trying to detach himself from his arm. His breathing was heavy and tears flowed freely down his face. No. No no no no no! This wasn't supposed to happen! Sammy's supposed to live, he needs to live. WHY GOD!? Why?
"Dean.." Sam sobbed. "Help me. Please. Please it hurts, please."
"Damn it Sam, it's poison, I don't know what to do! Sara must've laced the blade with voodoo crap, I don't know what to do!"
"It's-" He stopped moving and just shook where he lay, so wracked with pain.
"Maybe I could, maybe we could run back and go get help? Maybe there's a spell in Dad's book? Maybe I could..Maybe.." Dean trailing off, too overcome with emotions.
"Dean," Sam's voice was death-quiet again. "Nearest town..100 miles...not gonna make..please...stay."
"Sammy I'm not leaving you-" Dean's voice broke. "Never, ever, in a million years." Silent tears streamed down both faces.
They sat in silence, Dean hugging Sam as close as he could, both leaning against each other, Sam's head resting on Dean's shoulder. They both shook, they both shared the thousands of unspoken words that should have been shared long before. Why is this happening? I've never prayed before. But I'll try anything for Sam. Dear God, if you really are real please help Sam. He doesn't deserve to die. You know that! It's me who's supposed to die, not Sam. Please not him, I can't let him go. Please God. I'm begging you Amen. Sam had grown quiet and Dean nudged him a little.
"Dean-" he said, his voice full of pain. His tears had dried over and now he just stared blankly at the sky. The pain was too much for him. "Dean," he said, "I'm going to die." These words he spoke with certainty and resignation, as if he knew without a doubt that he had almost no time left. "I'm scared and I'm going to go to Hell and-" Sam groaned and writhed as the wound became unbearable once again. His face was covered in sweat and his eyes were bloodshot. He clawed at his right shoulder.
"It burns, Dean, it hurts so much." A quick glance at his brother's arm revealed that the poison was stretching its evil fingers around Sam's heart. Soon it would be overrun and the poison would be pumped to every corner of Sam's body.
"I know Sam, I know it hurts." He hugged Sam as close as he could possibly get. He thought that he could never let go. "Please hold on okay? I need you to stay with me, I need you here okay? I can't-" Dean's voice choked.
"De-" Sam tried to say, "It's okay-it's going to be okay-"
"No Sammy, you shouldn't have to be comforting me, I'm sorry I just can't lose you too!"
"I know Dean, I-" He coughed up more blood and curled in on himself. His eyes moved up, finding Dean's. His eyes sparkled with tears just barely held back and they stayed there for a moment, just dying together.
Sam's breaths came in short gasps, the poison had reached his heart and was now pumping through his body. And it hurt so much. "Dean," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, so sorry."
"Sorry? What are you sorry for?"
"I'm so sorry-it wasn't a witch it was a crossroad..demon..and I couldn't stand letting you die. It saved you...It said it wouldn't kill me, I thought, I shouldn't have trusted-Please don't come after me...please...you have to be alright..I'm so sorry I'm so sorry so sorry I'm so sorry." He cried into Dean's shoulder.
"What? No no you didn't do that!" Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders. "No no you didn't. No Sam! No no no…"
"I'm sorry I'm sorry Dean."
"No," Dean's voice was quiet and all of sudden he felt like a child again it was so unfair. Now he knew for sure that he couldn't save his little brother. He had failed. "God dammit no!"
"I'm so-" Sam burst into another coughing fit and grew still. Dean flinched.
"Sam!"
"Sing," he exhaled.
"What?"
"Just ." Sammy sniffed.
"Oh okay. Anything you want. I just...I don't know…" He remembered a song his mom used to sing to him. "Mom used to sing this to me," he whispered.
"Wish I could have heard."
"Yeah."
Dean shifted, bringing Sam closer off the ground, and opened his mouth to sing for his little brother.
Hey Sam, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better
Tears began to well up in Dean's eyes as he remembered his Mom's voice in his darkest days and wanted to show Sam how beautiful it had been. Sam sighed and relaxed slightly.
Hey Sam, don't be afraid
You were made to go out and get her
The minute you let her under your skin
Then you begin to make it better
And anytime you feel the pain, Hey Sam, refrain
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders
For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah
Dean paused. "We're both fools aren't we?" Sam made a sound that was half between a chuckle and a cough. Dean hugged him closer. "It's alright Sammy."
Hey Sam, don't let me down
You have found her, now go and get her
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better
So let it out and let it in, hey Sam, begin
You're waiting for someone to perform with
And don't you know it's just you, hey Sam, you'll do
The movement you need is on your shoulder
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah yeah
Unwanted tears were pouring now, hot and burning down Dean's cheeks. His hands trembled around Sam's.
Hey Sam, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her under your skin
Then you'll begin to make it
Better better better better better better, oh.
Dean shuddered in breath and looked at Sam to find his own looking right back at him. In a moment of clarity, Sam spoke. "Thanks Dean. I love-" And then he convulsed and his eyes rolled back until only the whites could be seen.
"Sam? Sam? SAMMY?!" He frantically shook Sam's shoulders but there was no response. "No Sam please, please NO!" Sam's lips were blue, his skin too cold but Dean couldn't, wouldn't believe that his brother was really truly gone. "No-" And he broke down sobbing. Dean collapsed against his brother and broke down. Huge, gut-wrenching sobs that carried for miles on the wind. Please just let me die now. Just a nightmare let me DIE NOW!
"LET ME DIE! Give Sammy back! TAKE ME! GIVE HIM BA-" Dean couldn't go on. Sam was gone, gone, gone and Dean was alone. So alone. The demons had won. He was in Hell. They lay crumpled in a heap on the ground, living against dead but Dean felt more dead than he ever thought he could be.
"GIVE HIM BACK!"
Please.