sometimes a girls gotta let out those certain feelings everyones got.
Based off of the ep where sam, dean, and garth fight the ghost with the coin when dean comes back from purgatory. if you haven't at least finished season 7 and season 8 ep 1 I advise you do so, less confusion but whatever you gotta do.
xXx
Dean tracked through the woods. Caked in mud, dirt, and blood he only had one thing repeatedly going through his mind, I have to get to Sammy. After two miles he realized two things fought for attention in his head as he made his journey to the safe house Bobby showed them after his house burnt down. I have to get to Sammy and I need a shower. He made his way through woods and animal crap before he finally hit a strip of road. Desperately trying make his way back to people, Dean began following the road. Muscles in his body ached and twitched. His hands throbbed and more sweat beaded on his forehead, if that were even possible. Though he wouldn't dare admit it to anyone other than Benny he missed the simplicity of Purgatory.
He always knew where he was, by Cas and Benny's side smashing heads in Purgatory. As he scanned the baking plains he noticed that the world, supposedly worse than Hell, was quite beautiful compared to the burning grass and littered asphalt of Maine.
The sun had raised and set, then raised again before a ghastly yellow pickup truck passed by Dean. The first vehicle he's seen since coming back. Dean swore the truck would have ran him down and turned him into pancaked roadkill if it were not but two inches to the right.
The grotesque, rust decorated vehicle came to a screeching halt a few yards in front of Dean. Oh wow he missed his baby. He decided that once he showers he's going for a long drive in Baby. After a brief moment of hesitation Dean quickened his walking speed and stopped at the trucks passenger window.
"Y'know you could've run me over," Dean stated, his words as dull he felt.
"Sorry, son, wasn't 'specting anyone to be wanderin' the roads out here, ya know?" The orange cap wearing, driver had a thick southern accent. The toothpick lazily laying on his lower lip stabbed the air as the man spoke, creating a lisp to add with his thick, not surprising southern accent, "say, you don't look good at all. Hop in and I'll drive ya where you need to go. Y'er gonna die of heat exhaustion,"
"Yeah ill just hop into your truck so you can kill me or ass rape me or something," Dean spat, caught off guard by this stranger's kindness. He'd spent the last year killing anyone he saw after an extreme interrogation.
"Do I look like I wanna take advantage of a middle aged man covered in Hell knows what?" The driver hissed.
"Well I'm going to Louisiana I don't expect you to be if any help," the Hunter said as he began to continue on his way before a howling coming from the truck behind him brought a halt to his storming off.
"Well I'll be damned! I thought you'd be some city slicker who got left Behind camping!" two yards away from the trucks closed doors and dean could still hear the old man slapping his knee, "I'm going back down to my roots as we speak I'll be happy to give you a ride!" The driver boomed before he became dark, "but I ain't doin this for you so if you give me any more lip I'm dropping yer sorry ass off in the nearest river ya hear?"
"Loud and clear," Dean mumbled before climbing into the passenger side of the unsightly truck. A cross Dean hadn't noticed before hung from the rear view mirror, taunting Dean as it bounced along.
Two days of lying to the driver's questions and listening to him go on about his faith and how it would save Dean as himself made Dean almost jump out of the vehicle multiple times within the first hour. Dean spent the next day and a half hitching rides with various drivers, though none worse than the first. Those three days were worse than the forty years in Hell and one year in Purgatory combined, but once his current driver came to a fork in the road he sent Dean on his way in the opposite direction of himself. Dean thanked the driver before walking around his car. A sign was a short distance away that stated he was in the correct town. He gave the driver another inaudible thank you as he came closer to his Sammy.
Night had fallen once again though Dean wasn't worried. He had stopped at motels and truck stops so his wish for a shower was already granted by the genie in an orange cap. Now he had one wish left and that was seeing his brother.
About an hour and a half later Dean had approached familiar trees and pathways, ones he'd seen hundreds of times before. Dean couldn't contain his excitement and no matter how much he tried not to make this a chick flick he couldn't help but breaking out into a full on sprint with a smile cracking his distressed features. A few short lived moments later Dean found himself in front of their makeshift front door. Wisdom washed over him and he realized if he didn't want to get knifed he'd need to get his holy water and other human proving tools ready.
Once everything was in hand he bust through the front door only to see something he'd never imagined. Even in his darkest nightmares. Everything he had in his hands dropped to the ground along with himself as he fell to his knees, crying for the first time in years.
There lied his little brother not moving, caked in blood, curled within himself.
"Sam," Dean managed, his voice hoarse and hardly audible. Not because of his year. Not because of Purgatory. Not even because of the blood shed due to his own faults. It was because a lump in his throat began to grow bigger and bigger made him think he'd suffocate. Dean was actually choked up at the sight of this. Tears streamed down the man's face, "Sam!" He screamed as he launched himself at his brother.
All thoughts escaped his mind as he in curled his brother and held him in his arms.
"This shouldn't be happening. I'm the older brother you were supposed to wait for me!" He screamed at his brother, telling over and over for his brother to wake up. Dean opened his teary eyes to look at his brother's face, Sam finally looked content and at peace. Deans tears stopped falling sometime after he began to study the face of his passed on brother. Sam's eyebrows weren't furrowed in confusion or worry, his eyes weren't squeezed shut due to stress or the devil haunting him, his mouth wasn't pulled into a permanent frown as Dean once joked. Instead Sam was lying there with his lids softly shielding his chocolate irises and his mouth slightly open, pearly whites clearly showing through his parted lips. Dean cracked a smile as he brushed hair from his brothers face, "at least you're out, kid," Dean chuckled solemnly. His heart fell deeper than he thought possible once he saw his brothers wrists.
Sam had scars running up and down his forearms and a deep slit stitched together on each arm where his hand meets his wrist. The stitching was black which was almost invisible against the dark, dried blood that surrounded the thin threads holding him together. Confusion washed over him as Dean snapped back to Sam's face. Although his neck popped and screamed in pain Dean was more focused on the neck that lied on his knee. Sam's pale neck had a red ring wrapped around it. Dean's fingers brushed along the red dent in his neck, as his fingers danced along the ring Dean immediately knew a rope was the culprit.
"D-Did you do this...?" Dean stuttered as he stroked the hair out of his brothers face.
A deep squishing noise caught Dean's attention as his mourning was interrupted. He brought his fingers up and found a gooey, green black substance dripping further and further down two of his fingers. He knew it had to be ectoplasm but to confirm his suspicions he brought the substance to his nose and took a whiff. Once he knew for a fact it was ectoplasm he turned Sam's head to the side only to see more green black goo dripping down the side of his face from his ear. His face grew hot and for the first-time since he burst through the door he realized the small room was full of an overwhelming stench of rotting flesh. He was practically launched backwards by the scent and both his hands covered the lower half of his face, engulfing his nose and mouth. Dean shot through the front door and ran from the house. Dean panted and every one of his muscles clenched fury. He wanted to scream and cry at the same time but he knew neither of which would help.
He would find out what did this to his brother.
After giving him the funeral he deserved.
xXx
