See chapter 1 for spoilers, warnings, disclaimer.
He sank, folding into himself as his legs crumbled and his back slid down the wall, phone tumbling from his wilting hands.
Stay awake, just a little longer. Awake, come on, awake. Sam's coming. Sammy…
Sammy's coming.
Please, Sammy, come soon.
An eternity passed. Another eternity followed. Each second drawn out to a lifetime, each breath huffed in and out of pale lips lasting millennia.
Murmurs in the distance. He couldn't pay them any mind, had to focus. Sammy. Sam's coming. Stay awake. A shape flickered from the other side of the room. Don't look at it, wait for Sammy. The dark shape grew in size, drifting towards him. He blinked and was greeted with a new sight. Rough blue mounds. More like blue trees, tall little buggers. The trees folded in front of him, revealing their green leaves that had blurred into a single shape—complete with stripes, that's kinda weird—and finally revealing their prize at the top: a face. A familiar face. Complete with a mop of brown hair that just barely covered those hazel-green eyes that Dean knew would be filled with worry, trying to lock on his.
Sammy.
Right now, Dean loved that face. He'd choose it over any other site in the world—that face that meant things might be alright.
He felt a caress on his cheek, a warm breath of air in front of him. Another murmur, one he couldn't quite pick up. He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. A slight shift as the hand pulled him forward, and the world tilted. It was all he could do to keep himself from slipping away. He focused instead on the hand, the contact, feeling its warmth spread through to his battered body. God, he was cold, and at the moment it felt like without that contact he would have frozen over.
Feeling the strain in his chest, Dean huffed in another small breath. And let it out, trying to give it what voice he could, offer some kind of reassurance to his brother.
"—'my."
The murmuring continued, though now he could make out the current of worry within it. Focus, just a little more.
"—okay. It's okay, man, I've got you. Stay with me, alright?"
Dean swiveled his head up, ignoring the tilt of his surroundings as he did so. Offered a crooked smile. Felt the coppery tinge of blood on his lips, his tongue.
"Here, S'my. 'Ere."
He felt the hands move again, offering him support as gray started to fill his vision. Felt strong, familiar hands grip him tight, pulling him close and lifting him into the air. Hate flying, why we flying Sammy?
He couldn't hold his head up any longer. He let it loll against the solid wall of his brother's chest, locking his scattered focus onto the steady, grounding beat of his brother's heart. It became his world.
He felt the world breathe in and out around him, keeping him whole, keeping him focused.
Time slowed. Or sped up, he wasn't sure which. Maybe it stopped altogether, for all he knew. He was laying on hard leather, firm to the touch and filled with the familiar smell, the sense of home. His baby.
The contact was further away now, but still there, just above him. Felt warm hands cup his cheeks, lifting his face to the air.
"—pen your eyes, c'mon, Dean. I'm gonna drive us outta here, but you need to open your eyes first."
Eyes. Open his eyes. When had they closed? He let them fall open, mere slits of windows that opened to the gray haze of the world.
It was a dream world, everything sliding in and out of the shadows to coalesce into bizarre pictures of life. Seeing clear pictures seemed to be out of the question, so he focused on sensations instead. He could feel his car beneath him, could feel Sam driving next to him. He could hear the rumble of his baby and the constant stream of reassurances coming from his brother.
He could feel the pain in his chest from each breath he took.
He could feel the blood still oozing from his body, taking a little more of his strength with it. God, blood wasn't supposed to that, wasn't supposed to flow out of wounds for that long.
He could feel the world start to slip away again, and tried to cement himself once more into it.
"Hey. Hey, you with me, man? Come on, Dean, gimme something here."
He tried to say something, he really did. He knew how worried his brother was, knew Sam needed something, anything to make this situation a little better. Sam was still new to the game, still getting back into the rhythm after his years in the normal life. He didn't deserve to have to go through insanity like this. He shouldn't have to know what it's like to drive with someone dying in the seat next to him.
Dying…
He was dying, wasn't he.
Dammit.