Title: A Winchester Moment
Author: dreamlitnight
Genre/pairing: Supernatural, hurt/comfort
Characters: Dean W. and Sam W. and John W.
Rating: G
Word-count: Approx. 2,100
Summary: Dean is hurt, while on a hunt with his dad and brother. There is a monster, and arguing, and pain, and a little comfort.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: The Winchesters are not mine.
Written for prompt at hoodietime - Just what the prompt says: the boys are on a hunt (could be pre-series, or during the series) and Dean breaks his ankle. They're in the woods and the thing they're hunting is still out there.Cue lots of Sam or John (or Sam and John?) trying to help Dean limp through the forest as the MOTW huffs and lumbers through the nearby trees, stalking them but never coming quite close enough to shoot. (If John and Sam are both in the fic, would love to see them fighting over the best way to take care of Dean!)
"A Winchester Moment"
Dean came back to himself slowly, susurrant sounds invading the peaceful darkness he had been cocooned in moments before causing the calm to retreat, leaving behind the sharpness of icy coldness and an all consuming pain. Gasping he struggled clumsily, trying to escape the disruption. When rough hands grabbed at him, restraining his movements, he became frantic, his breaths sawing in and out and his chest feeling like it was being squeezed in a vice. Forcing his eyes open, Dean worked to bring his surroundings into focus. Finally the deep voices of his dad and brother pierced the panic and he was able to bring his breathing back from hyperventilating territory to mildly freaked out. The hands holding him gentled as he quit fighting and he was able to make out actual words instead of buzzing noise.
"Hey kiddo, it's okay. Just lay still. Your brother and I are gonna get this all sorted out. You with us Dean?" His dad's gruff voice spoke with that firm "everything is fine" tone that always helped Dean to convince himself of that very thing, even when it didn't match the reality of the situation.
Dean opened his mouth to answer, but a white hot pain shot up from his right ankle all the way to the top of his addled head. Instead of answering, he was only able to keen a wounded helpless sound. He felt warm air tickle his ear as his little brother leaned close and offered reassuring nonsense in an effort to soothe him.
" 's okay Dean. You're okay. We gotcha. Just have to see what that thing did to you. All right?"
"Looks like his ankle is pretty bad. Don't think he's gonna be walking on that Dad."
"Hmmmm." His dad's growly voice answered. "Think you're right."
Dean settled into the comforting tones, concentrating on pushing the pain away to a more manageable level. He let himself drift in limbo as they "sorted him out".
Once again Dean was brought out of his peaceful place by his dad and brother. This time they were pushing and pulling him into an upright position. He wasn't on board with the whole standing up deal and he let them know vocally. To which his brother replied with soft "shushes" and his dad with a harsh "suck it up soldier". As the world spun in a colorful, kaleidoscope circle, Dean could make out the strident tones of an argument between the other two Winchesters. He was really not up to the whole peacemaker schtick and so he chose to ignore it and concentrate on not vomiting on either of their boots, although he reasoned in a foggy sort of way, that puking on their boots might bring a halt to the argument.
The pushing and pulling had ended up with Dean more or less hanging between the two, his feet barely touching the ground as they drug him along. The trio made slow stumbling progress back toward the Impala and safety. Dean let them do all of the work, he had never agreed to the walking part anyway. His whole body felt impossibly awkward and unwieldy, like the part that kept it all connected was broken. He tried to raise his head to tell them that exactly, but the effort failed and only served to revive the tilt-a-whirl world. This, in turn, pushed the fiery pain back to the forefront. A low groan escaped him, causing his brother to start up again with the "shhhhhs" and his dad to grip him tighter and set a faster pace.
"Dad, you've got to slow down. We're hurting him." Sam demanded, voice rough.
"Sam, that thing, whatever it is, is still out there. I can hear it. We've got to move. Dean's tough. We'll get him all fixed up as soon as we're safe."
Sam huffed in frustration. "I know it's out there, but it seems to be keeping its distance and if we keep pulling Dean around like this, we could puncture his lung or something."
The eldest Winchester stopped, asking in that calm tone, the tone that Dean knew belied the eminent explosion of John Winchester. "You wanna do this now?"
Sam answered without a hint of contrition. "Do what? Disagree with the great John Winchester?"
Dean closed his eyes in resignation and tried to brace himself for the fallout that was headed their way.
"What did you say son?" That voice was so deep and so soft Dean could barely make it out over the pounding in his head.
Sam huffed again. "I think you heard me dad."
Dean never got to hear John's reply because the forrest exploded instead of John and Dean was ripped away from the squabbling pair and flung into the blackest darkness.
PainPainPainPain is all Dean can seem to focus on. His whole world had narrowed down to one that one thing. Pain everywhere. There was nothing else, only lightening bolts of pain zinging through his body. Head to toe and everywhere in between. There was no sound, no color, nothing... until there was something... something wildly jostling him against the hard plains of... something that was warm and vital and he could hear thunder and feel the vibrations against his cheek and then the world flowed back in on him like a tidal wave of noise and movement and Dean once again wanted to be released back to the nothing, but his family was trying to save him... trying to save themselves, so Dean determinedly pulled himself together and gave it his best effort to join them.
They were stumbling down the barely there path again at a fast clip and no arguing this time. Dean decided that whatever had happened had changed his little brother's mind and now he and the eldest Winchester seemed to be working in tandem. Dean struggled to get his feet under him, pulling against their grip. When his right ankle made contact with the ground, bearing a tiny fraction of his weight, he remembered that, oh yeah that was the one that was a little out of whack, and a whining moan escaped as he collapsed back into his family's grappling embrace.
"Easy kiddo. Just let us do the work. You hang in there and try to stay quiet. That thing is wounded now, a little angry and still tracking us. You hear me Dean? Gotta stay quiet. Okay?"
Dean honed in on his father's gruff voice, tried to nod his head in accord with the whispered orders, but it only seemed to want to wobble heavily on his spindly feeling neck. He settled for a hoarse, " 'kay. Be quiet."
"And stay with us." Sam prodded.
"Ss-stay." Dean obediently parroted back. Wheezing a little on the end of the word.
The trio was still moving, albeit a little slower, but still gaining ground away from the threat. Over the panting breaths and the rustling of the thick undergrowth brushing against boots, Dean heard the sharp snap of breaking branches and an eerie chuffing, slightly off to the left of their current path. He caught the strong scent of decay and was gagging before he could stop himself.
"Stinks don't it?" Sam asked with a soft chuckle.
"Nnngh." Dean hummed in agreement. It smelled like a fresh grave and Dean wanted away from it. The slight breeze caused him to shiver as it skimmed his clammy face and sweat damp hair. It also carried the fetid odor of the trailing creature, surrounding them with the suffocating smell of death. Dean coughed, working to keep his stomach contents where they were. Sammy and even his dad were coughing and grumbling almost silently. The breeze petered out and the smell lessened, bringing a small bit of relief.
Sam stumbled, nearly toppling all three to the rough ground.
Their dad grunted in effort as he stepped counter to Sam's downward momentum and by strength of determination, kept them upright with only a slight off center dance before they were moving forward again.
"Almost there boys." John encouraged them. "Just keep walking. We're almost there."
Sam choked on a derisive laugh. "Dad, we need to stop and shoot that thing again. It's gaining on us. If we keep "walking" it's going to run over us."
Dean tried to nod in agreement with Sam's idea of shooting it again, because he wasn't sure he could survive being run over again.
The older hunter only growled, ignoring both sons and never slowed his quick pace.
Surprisingly Sam didn't continue to protest, but Dean noticed him keeping track of the creature's path running almost parallel to their own.
Dean was doing his best to stay alert, but time kept slipping in and out of focus. He kept hearing his brother murmuring encouragement to him offset with grumbling dire predictions under his breath about what was going to happen if that thing caught them.
Suddenly a bellowing roar rent the humid air and Dean was unceremoniously dropped onto the rocky earth. He lay there trying to catch his breath and make sense of the whirling activity around him. The sickening throbbing in his ankle was now competing with the hellish throbbing of his head. He could feel warm blood running down from his forehead and snaking across his dry lips as he gasped for air. The copper tang of it so strong that he felt nauseous and woozy. Sparkles were edging into his vision and still not much air was making it into his straining lungs. He felt his tense muscles unexpectedly go lax, leaving the effort of survival behind. Dean Winchester was done. He wanted to help his family. That was his main mission in this world, but he had nothing left to give. His body felt as if it no longer belonged to him and he let the beckoning void take him where it may.
This time, the third time, when consciousness returned it was to a comforting throaty rumble and a large hand gently carding through his hair instead of threat of death and the swirling chaos of before. Dean realized that they had somehow made it and he decided that the third time really was the charm. They were in the Impala, with their Dad driving while he and Sam were in the back seat. He could make out the faint conversation they were having about somehow, accidentally killing the creature. Apparently those creatures could take consecrated iron or salt, they didn't even mind a little holy water, but spill a little sports drink on them and they sizzled like frying bacon. Huh, who knew that nasty tasting stuff was good for more than torturing Dean with when he had the flu.
Dean decided to just enjoy the peace of the moment. His dad and brother were getting along and he was breathing a little easier, his body was mostly numb and pain seemed kind of a distant thing at the moment. His head, he noted, was resting on his little brother's leg, and Sam kept petting and smoothing his hair as he chuckled at something their dad had just said. There was camaraderie between the oldest and the youngest and it felt nice, so Dean relaxed and kept his wakefulness to himself. They were all safe in his baby, Sammy and Dad were agreeing on something (which was very rare nowadays), and he knew they would get him sorted out soon. They would probably even give him the good stuff. Yeah, Dean decided to just enjoy the moment. Only a Winchester could call what Dean was enjoying a "moment", but hey, "moments" were few and far between, so Winchesters took joy wherever they could get it.
~ The End. Hope you enjoyed it. Please review if you're so inclined. Reviews make me happy.