AN: So I'm on vacation and randomly found a computer in the middle of nowhere and noticed that my wonderful beta macs ace had sent back some one shots so I thought... what the heck lets try and post them. And so here I am now, not sure if this is going to work so bear with me. Let me know what you think, this is my first episode tag haha.
Season four spoilers, also an tag for episode 4.02, I think haha.
Disclaimer: See profile
ENJOY
Pain can be fleeting, or it can be a constant throb, echoing throughout life. Some receive more than their fair share and others, the ones that truly deserve it, they're the ones that inflict it.
Its tricky, its not tangible, its nothing you can grab hold of, but to some, its a lifeline, something that can make them feel powerful, they thrive on the adrenaline that rushes through their bodies, and they find themselves looking for their next fix.
Others avoid pain, like its a plague. Some isolate themselves from the realities of their lives, because maybe then, if they have nothing left, then nothing can hurt them.
Sam wasn't sure which category he fell into, his life had always been full of pain, there was nothing he could do to stop it, or even avoid it; but he definitely had never welcomed it.
That is, until Dean was thrown into the pits of hell so he could live. If anyone would have asked Sam when he had started to welcome the hot touch of pain; that would have been it. The final breaking moment in the young mans life that began his tumbling cascade down into the depths of despair and loneliness that only the sharp touch of physical pain could bring him out of.
He had never purposefully hurt himself, Dean hadn't given up his soul so Sam could start cutting, no he wouldn't do that. But his hunting took on a different edge, a dangerous edge.
Throwing himself into fights with reckless abandon became his norm. Absorbing any pain that was thrown his way from any monster he was fighting. Feeding off its sharp touch, destroying anything that stood in his way. Scars began to riddle his body, mapping out the conquests he had done without Dean or Bobby.
Sam had been quick to leave Bobby, not turning back, and making sure the older man couldn't follow his tracks. A decision Sam made and stuck with, one decision of many that brought him to his destructive lifestyle.
His destructive lifestyle that was quickly being uplifted by his dead brother who had stood in his motel door way, living and breathing with Bobby standing just behind him.
His brother who had somehow managed to get a one-way ticket out of hell, and who had no idea how Sam had been living for the last four months.
That was a little less than a week ago, it was before all the talk about angels and devils, before the accusatory remarks of making deals, before the ghosts that had come to kill all three men.
The ghosts who knew Sam's secrets with Ruby and his lifestyle, the ghosts Sam had been quick to kill alongside his brother and Bobby.
The boys had left Bobby's shortly after they had finished up, they needed some time just the two of them, needed to sort things out and become familiar with each other again. This, however, was proving much harder for Sam to grasp than Dean, who was currently singing to AC/DC as the Impala roared down the quiet country road.
Awkward silences had recently taken place between the brothers who didn't know what else to talk about besides the angels that had rescued Dean.
They were both on unfamiliar territory, neither one wanting to talk about what had transpired over the last four months.
Dean knew no better; he remembered being ripped apart and then waking up in a coffin, with no time lapse, and no time alone.
Sam on the other hand, had lived through the lonely four months, his only accomplice a demon he didn't trust, his life a desperate and frantic mess trying to get his older brother back from the pits of hell.
He had had no choice but to change, and he was sure that Dean had no clue how to handle it. So they left it alone, relying on the Winchester code of 'If its ignored it will go away… eventually.'
Instead of letting the awkward silences linger they filled it with the Dean's music, the cassette tapes Sam had kept locked in the trunk, not wanting to risk destroying any of them for when Dean got back. The older man didn't understand why Sam had kept them in there, but he didn't have to understand as long as they all still worked.
It was comforting to have his brother back in the drivers seat, relinquishing his role as the driver without any question, Sam never wanted to sit behind that wheel again.
The younger man shifted in his seat, biting back the groan of pain, his back on fire from when the cabinet had slammed hard into him at Bobby's. He had felt the bruising start almost instantaneously, but didn't hesitate in telling Dean to watch over Bobby… one cabinet was no big deal.
But after sleeping on a much too small couch, coupled with his pounding headache – courtesy of Ghost Henrikkson – Sam had had better days.
Pinching the bridge of his nose he breathed deeply, trying to focus on anything other than the constant throb radiating through is body. It was a pain he had learned to welcome while Dean was gone, but now that his big brother was back, it wasn't as welcome as it had once been.
The constant glances from Dean were hard to ignore for the younger man who now had not only the pain to deal with but also the wave of emotions that seemed to roll through with every glance his older brother gave him. Sam was used to taking care of himself, he had become accustomed to dealing with his pain on his own, he wasn't used to having somebody care if he was hurt or sore.
Trying to shift once again, he tried in vain to ease the pressure on his lower back. Feeling his muscles tense up he couldn't hold back the sharp intake of air.
Quickly re-adjusting himself, hoping Dean hadn't noticed, but he wasn't surprised when the Impala turned off the road. Chancing a look around, his eyes throbbed in his skull as the bright daylight invaded them. Taking a minute to focus through the throb he was greeted by a dingy motel sign 'Nature's Post' which was followed by an equally dingy building.
Dean rummaged in the backseat of the car, it had already begun to fill with the brothers duffel bags and hunting equipment, the pristine condition Sam had kept the car in was quickly disregarded and he couldn't have cared less.
Hearing his brothers acknowledged victory of finding whatever he had been looking for, Sam was surprised when two small pills were placed in his hand, along with a bottle of water.
"Take them." Dean ordered, the younger man didn't question before Dean had already exited the car and was making his way to the small reception desk that looked no better than the rest of the motel.
Sam swallowed the pills without hesitation, enjoying the cool splash of water that chased them down. His eyes open in small slits watching as Dean exited the building and began the walk back to the car. Sam still had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that Dean was back and not rotting in the cool ground while his soul was tortured in the pits of hell. It wasn't something that was easily forgotten.
A soft breeze ran through the car, the passenger side door was open and Sam fought to keep from toppling out. His brothers strong hands keeping him upright working to get him out of the car and standing on his own two feet, which was proving to be a challenge.
Sam quickly brushed his brothers helping hands away, he hadn't needed help when Dean was gone, he had managed on his own then and he could now.
Feeling his body sway from side to side, he was glad that his brother carried his duffel bag. Sam could feel the hesitation in Dean's movements, the older brother not wanting to over step his boundaries by carrying the bag. But Sam was more focused on staying upright rather than his bag.
"Lets go Sammy." Dean said softly, walking behind the younger man, guiding him to where he had to be with gentle touches and nudges. "Room thirteen."
Sam nodded, not wanting to admit that he was relying on Dean to guide him to that room, his vision had blurred and he was having a hard time re-focusing it through the constant throb. His feet tripped up, Deans hands catching him as the world began to spin, shutting his eyes tight he let himself rest against the cool wall as Dean fiddled with the keys before finally opening the door.
Fatigue was beginning to set in, and quick. Sam's body was giving out, his legs were like Jell-O, his back was on fire and his head was throwing a tantrum like he had never felt before.
He eyed the bed across the room, his fingers that were gripped tightly on the wall began to loosen, he swayed across the small space in a desperate attempt, knocking into the small table at the end of his bed; he didn't feel sharp edge of the table hitting him before he landed on the lumpy bed.
It felt like he had been hit with a Mack truck, the onslaught of the week's emotional roller coaster, toppled with the abuse he had received from the angry ghosts, he just wanted to sleep. Feeling the tug at his feet, he tried to kick it away, "Easy Sam" was the only response he received, but it was enough to calm him down, stopping him instantly.
He could feel the world beginning to slip away as he relaxed further into the lumpy mattress. The pills he had taken earlier finally starting to kick in, helping the creeping darkness that had skirted the edges of his vision for so long begin to take over Sam's body.
It was a welcomed feeling, chasing away the pain that he felt throughout his tall frame. His mind shifting back to the ghosts that had come for the boys and Bobby, his mind wondering 'Where was Jess?' before he finally shifted off into the dream world.
-o-
He had dreamt about Jess, her thin and frail body pinned to the ceiling, he hadn't dreamt like that for a long time, but it didn't matter he still woke with Deans name staining his lips.
Two cars passing by the quiet motel were the culprits to his arousal from his medicated sleep. His head and back still hurt, their throb having died down but still there, making their presence known.
Wiping a hand down his face he felt the heat that was emanating off his skin, followed with a light sheen of sweat that covered him from head to toe, a fever the likely culprit for his new symptoms.
He thought back to his dream, Jessica pinned to the ceiling, her quiet voice asking him why. He shook it away, thinking to what he had dreamt about before Jessica. His heart sinking as he thought about it, Dean had been alive.
It wasn't the first time Sam had dreamt it, having Dean alive and well. His brother had been pulled from hell by angels in this dream.
It was always the same dream, of course usually in his dreams it was him bringing Dean back and not some angels, but it didn't matter. It had all felt so real, his heart thudded in his chest, not wanting to look over to his brothers bed, that he knew was going to be empty. He just wanted so desperately to see his brothers form outlined in the blankets.
But as he turned his eyes were met with the same scene he had seen over and over. The bed sat there, untouched and empty. His brother who had been so vivid in his dreams was gone once again. It was like re-living Deans death every time Sam opened his eyes.
Looking over to the clock, it was only two in the morning, there was still plenty of night left and yet Sam had no desire to sleep. His mind thinking back to his brother, to Bobby, it had all been so real, but all of his dreams seemed that real, ' it's always a fucking dream.'
His head throbbed; his blood pounded behind his ears, filling his senses with the eerie sound of his own heartbeat, anger whitewashing him, pounding his fist into the mattress.
He was alone once again, and he didn't want to be. His hand ghosted over his phone, the thought of calling Bobby passing through before quickly disappearing once again. He could do this on his own.
Thoughts of his brother quickly interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, the sound of heavy boots clapping against the ground let him know it wasn't Ruby.
Pushing through the pain in his body he reached for his knife under his pillow, surprised when he was met with empty air. There was no time to dwell on it, moving quickly out of bed he waited behind the door, watching as the knob turned slowly.
The young mans head and back were on fire, his fever causing his face to flush with heat and his body to sway. But he pulled it together, absorbing the pain, relishing in it.
The door opened slowly, Sam could see the shadow of his attacker in the pale moonlight, he didn't waste anytime; it wasn't the first time a demon had tracked him down while he slept and he knew it wouldn't be the last.
Grabbing the man and tossing him across the room, a yelp of surprise coming from the man who sat on the ground, having no time to react as Sam stalked over to him, bringing his fist down.
Sam was surprised when the man ducked it at the last second, Demons had strength but they usually weren't agile or quick. It didn't matter, Sam could feel his knuckles brush by the mans face and he was certain that that probably hurt more anyway.
Not stopping his momentum Sam carried on, not giving the demon any space to move, his mind trying to tap in to the demons energy only to find that there was no energy to tap into, his attacker was human, and both men were equally matched.
"Who are you?" Sam called out, breathing hard, trying to keep his vision from going black from the excursion.
A breathless voice answered back, the figure holding a hand in the air in surrender, "Sam?"
The voice sent chills down the younger mans spine, shaking his head he must be dreaming again. "Dean?" It was impossible, Dean is dead.
The man didn't take his hand down, cautiously moving towards the lamp; the dull light flickered in the room, Sam's breath caught in his throat.
"Its me Sammy, we've already been through this, Bobby was here too little brother."
Sam shook his head, "It was a dream." He muttered, his thoughts mixing together, his fever making it hard to put things together. "Its always a dream."
Dean tried a step closer to his brother, bringing his hand down, his heart breaking at the confusion that adorned Sam's face and filled his hazel eyes, "No Sam, its not a dream, remember the angels?"
Sam tried to remember, tried to decipher between what was real and what wasn't. Thoughts flashing through his head. He hesitated before nodding slowly, his breath loud and heavy, brow furrowed as he continued to look at his brother who was standing in front of him. 'Don't get too attached, its always a dream!'
Dean's heart hammered in his chest thinking over his poor decision to leave his brothers side. Once he had known that Sam was going to be okay he had gone to the bar down the road. They needed cash and it had been too long since he had been to a bar. He had thought nothing of it when he'd left, he had done it before, but now that he stood in front of his confused and broken little brother he wished he hadn't gone.
Sam had changed over the four months that Dean was gone; of course, to the older brother there wasn't that same gap of time. In his world it was just yesterday that he had been ripped to shit by the hell hounds, he had only been gone from his brother for a day. But for Sam, it was a completely different story.
Four months of lonely torture was more than enough time to change a person, and Dean was having a hard time getting accustomed to even the smallest changes in his brother.
The quiet disposition, the anger that hid behind his hazel eyes, Sam hardly ever smiled or joked, all he did was hunt with a reckless abandon that had Dean worried. This wasn't the little brother he remembered, and he wasn't sure if it was one he could ever become accustomed to.
Dean had fought his whole life to try and keep the innocent nature in Sam, to block his brother from the evil that went hand in hand with hunting. But now, as his brother stood before him, Dean realized he had finally lost that battle.
Reaching his arms out, Dean wasn't surprised when Sam collapsed to the floor as everything finally started to sink in, Dean was back and Sam didn't have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore.
Dean held a hesitant hand over his brother's shoulder before finally letting it rest, feeling the small quiver that ran through Sam's body, followed by the heat from his fever. Dean cursed himself for going out when he should have been looking over his brother.
Embracing Sam once again, Dean held on tight, it was the second time in less than a week that he had held Sam, and truth be told, they both needed it.
"I'm not leaving you." Dean muttered feeling the hot teardrops soak into his shirt, he didn't say anything, he just let his brother cry, "I won't leave without you ever again."
They stayed motionless on the dirty floor, Dean could feel his muscles protesting the stationary position, but he didn't dare move until Sam was ready.
The shaking that had been so strong was slowly beginning to subside, Sam's breathing returning to normal, but his grip never loosened on Deans jacket, like if he let go Dean would disappear once again.
The younger man had been through his own living hell, and even though Dean had dealt with Sam's death before, it was only for three days, this had been for four months, and the older man knew he would have never made it through all four months.
Dean pulled Sam closer, his arms wrapping around his brothers bulky frame, His brother - who had put on at least twenty pounds of muscle across his chest alone - still fit in his arms like a missing puzzle piece. Looking to the clock, he was surprised to see that they had been sitting on the floor for two hours; it was time to move Sam back to the bed.
"Okay Sammy, lets move." The older brother talked quietly to Sam as they moved slowly, noting how Sam moved with him but still refused to release his grip on the leather jacket.
Easing the tall frame of his brother onto the bed, Sam held on tight, his pleading and broken eyes looking up to him, "Go to sleep Sammy, I promise its not a dream."
The crying started again, "How do I know that? How do I know that once I close my eyes you won't be gone all over again, I don't want to lose you anymore Dean, I can't."
"I promise Sammy, I'm not going anywhere. You wake up and you'll still see my ugly mug little brother."
Resignation still hid in those big eyes, and it broke Dean to think of how many dreams his younger brother had had that he was back and living, only to wake back up in to his living nightmare alone.
Taking off his jacket, he let Sam have it, wondering how many times the young man had slept with the cool leather next to his face while he was gone.
Settling in next to Sam, the thought of the extra bed never even occurred to Dean who kicked off his shoes and laid his head down on the lumpy pillow. Sam's soft and even breathes lulling him into his own dream filled sleep, thinking of how he was going to bring his Sam back.
AN: Hope that was okay, let me know if you liked it or hated it : )