I am so sorry that this took sooooooo long….my life is just a maze of crazy days right now. This is kind of short, but I do hope you'll like it. If not, please tell me, so that I can do better next time. And please ignore all the grammar mistakes, I'm embarrassed enough as it is.
And please check out Darksupernatural's profile (she is just an awesome, awesome writer, the stories she comes up with…amazing!!) and a story called MOMENTS IN TIME…I'm co writing it with her, and it's like one chapter is hers and one is mine (I suck at explaining things, always have, always will)…if you go there, you'll see what I mean, coz, she's better at explaining things…and if you like what you read, let us know. Thank you very much!
And now, please…
Enjoy…
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The smell of mushrooms was invading Sam's nose, tickling his tongue when he breathed in. The smell was thick and almost acid when it touched his throat.
"Calm down, Sam." an order that was enveloped in a whisper.
Sam breathed…fast and deep, almost gulping down the warm summer air, saturated with insects and dust, and that smell of decaying leaves.
But he breathed…he had to even if his chest hurt and his throat burned.
He wanted to call out to his brother, call out for Dean, but the wind that blew through the trees made him sleepy, made his brain too lazy to keep functioning.
Help me, boy…
A wish formed somewhere along the way…not to be here in the forest with Dean crouching in front of him. Not to be the object of Dean's big brother eyes, trying to see it all, trying to crawl inside of him and make it alright. He wanted to shy away from everything…just go.
Help me, boy…
He breathed, expanded his chest to the point where it almost hurt…he could feel the air scraping his throat, until it settled in his lungs. And they burned…flames that licked his body from his lugs to his nose and mouth.
"Calm down, Sam or I swear…" 'm gonna knock you out.
Help me, boy…and he couldn't see Dean's eyes through the words whispered to him. He felt them though, but couldn't see them through the tears that were stuck to his eyes…he didn't want them to fall; that would be showing weakness, and that was simply not allowed. Not even here in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, with only his brother by his side. No weakness…ever.
The leaves shhhhhhhed again, and Sam heard the calm down, over the roaring in his ears, calm down over the darkness that he found himself in.
The soft flow of the creek that could be heard from somewhere near the car lulled him into Dean's hand that was gripping him tight. It was so warm there, so soft, but hard too, but soft…and familiar. The touch, the hand, the strength, the unspoken I'll fix this, Sam. He leaned into the hand, rearranged his weight so that Dean took the most of it. Trusting Dean to take it all, to support, to fix it.
Calm down, Sam…and before he knew it, he did. He eased himself into the touch, into the words his brother was saying to him over the annoying…help me, boy.
"Alright, alright…feel better now?"
Sam didn't nod, didn't even acknowledge that words were being spoken to him…and the trees shhhhhhhed again.
Go to the point, Dean, "So your elbow, knees and hands?" and your soul…awesome.
Dean could see Sam's eyes, shining in the moonlight, almost saw the moon in them, large and shiny as they were. There was hair in Sam's eyes, sweat running down his cheeks, little drops of it gathering on his top lip.
"We'll fix that, okay?!" and your soul, don't worry.
He contemplated on IF he should leave Sam like this, to get the first aid kit, contemplated on IF he leaves Sam alone for a second, what would that do to Sam, contemplated on IF he leaves Sam just to round the car, what would Sam's reaction be.
Dean knew that the injuries could wait until they got to the motel, knew they weren't dangerous…kids get away with much worse, BUT this was Sam…it wasn't just some kid from down the block, it was his baby brother…hurt. Hurt in places he didn't want Sam to be hurt. Hurt in his soul. A simple band aid won't fix that…
There was a time when the presence of Dean was lost to Sam…the strong grip, the soft warmth, the sight on Dean's amulet, a breathing to match his own too, the smell of sweat that mixed with the smell of washing detergent…it was all gone. Replaced with Help, me boy…
And in that time, the time when Dean was gone, there was the big old oak and darkness that the moon made alive. The silver rays were licking the leaves, pushed among them to shine directly on the car…Sam…Dean…the oak.
The light shone directly into Sam's eyes, the big round moon watching itself in his tears, that threatened to fall, but never would…not now. Not yet.
He studied the leaves and the needles and the pebbles and the soft grass that was laying beneath his shoes. Grazing the forest floor with his shoes, unconsciously kicking at twigs, Sam heard…help me, boy.
Dean was gone, the amulet gone, the breathing gone, the smell of Dean gone, it was all gone, but…help me, boy.
The small droplets of sweat that were running down his cheeks, were tickling him, but to raise his hand…too hard.
They were running down his back too, but to wipe it away…to difficult.
The hair that got a permanent job of being plastered on his forehead, was slipping in his eyes, carrying the sweat with them and it burned, but to push them aside…too much work.
He could feel his shirt and how it was stuck to his skin, wet and itchy. He wanted to take it off…to demanding.
In the silence of the darkness, where even the birds found their peace, Sam heard only one thing…help me, boy.
There was a sharp wind that grazed his face when Dean came back, when the amulet started swinging in front of his eyes again, when the smell came back to overpower the strong mushroom taste, that settled in his mouth.
"You okay?" Dean smiled to Sam and crouched between Sam's thighs… but Sam was staring at something in front of him, his eyes shining with tears…but none of them fell…they were just there, in the corners of his eyes…just there.
Somewhere along the way, Sam tangled up his fingers, intertwined them with the hem of his shirt and clenched it with the force that turned his knuckles white as snow.
"Sam, 'm just gonna take your hands, okay?" he tried to keep his voice soft, the only sound that was louder then his voice, was the running water in the creek.
Sam lost his eyes in the sweat patches on Dean's T-shirt…small patches; with no apparent shape…twelve of them…Sam counted. One looked like a flower though…weird.
Sam's hands were pliant, heavy and when Dean reached for them, Sam flinched and pulled back.
"Sammy, 'm not gonna hurt you, just let me look." quietly and softly.
Sam blinked, but the tears still hang on to the edges of his eyes, not wanting to surrender…not yet.
"Sam," slow, steady move of his hand, "I'm just gonna look, really," closer, closer, closer, until he connected his warm hand with Sam's cold one, "see?"
It was Dean who flinched then, because Sam's hands were cold, icy cold, dead man cold…he rubbed them between his hands, being careful not to aggravate Sam's injuries.
Trying to restore some heat in Sam's hands, Dean thought about how crazy all of this was…he huffed; Sam, God you're just a kid.
He brushed his thumb over Sam's wrist, felt for his pulse beneath the soft and thin skin; Shit, Sam still too fast.
The heel's of Sam's hands were bloody and covered in dirt. Little strings of skin hang from the cuts, there were some splinters that were cutting Sam's skin apart, there was some grass there too, and small pebbles, that embodied themselves in the skin. It had to hurt…Dean knew that pain…it was a burn, the skinned flesh, full of dirt and dried up blood.
He will take care of the hands first, then the elbows and then the knees.
Need to be careful, can't hurt Sam anymore then he's already hurt. Can't, can't, can't.
Sam's hands suddenly became feather light and small in Dean's, and he almost felt like he would break them if he would hold onto them a little tighter.
There was a sting on his hand and Sam flinched and pulled. But Dean grabbed his wrist and pulled back.
"Sam, hey, 'm just gonna clean it."
Silence.
The sting continued for a while and Sam almost surrendered to the lull of the wind…almost.
When there was a tug and a pinch on his hands Sam came back and flinched again.
"Splinters Sam…" an apology was in that sentence, and if Sam was…here…he would say back off, Dean.
Silence.
Another pinch and a sharp pull and he saw how Dean was straining his body…the third patch of sweat moved.
Another pinch and tug and Sam saw the amulet swing in a different way.
At the seventh pinch and pull, Sam hissed.
"Sorry, sorry, 's O.K., Sammy."
But all Sam heard was help me, boy, with that awful hissing voice, that made him shudder.
"You cold?"
Silence.
"Sam?! You cold?"
Silence.
Alright, Sam's going into shock, alright, just don't freak out, we'll fix this. Fix this, yeah…
"Sam, listen," he let go of Sam's hands and cupped Sam's chin in his hand…the skin there was cold and clammy, "Sam, look at me. Come on."
The eyes that Dean possessed were green, Sam knew that…but when he looked at them, finally looked at them, he saw concern and fear. He saw that as clearly as a bell. And it hurt.
"Hey, Sam," and Sam lowered his eyes again, searching for his favorite, the ninth patch of sweat on Dean's T-shirt, the one near his heart, "Sam, come on, no, no, no, come on…look at me."
Dean's heart broke…broke into so many peaces; the number was not even discovered yet in the world. The look he saw in Sam, the shiny eyes, the deep brownness, the sorrow and the pain…and he almost cried himself. Cried for his baby brother, that really shouldn't see that…hunt. Shouldn't be involved in this hunt…not this soon. Not yet. There was a time and a place for everything and for Sam this was not the time and not the place.
And why the hell didn't Sam listen to Dad and just stayed put?!
Sam found the ninth patch of sweat and saw how it rose up and how it fell down. It came up, and fell down. Steady, steadier than his shirt did, because he could feel his shirt...going up and down, faster than Dean's…way to fast…not right, not right, it should be slower, like Dean's…slower.
"Sam?" worried.
Silence and the wind.
"Sam, wha…?"
Before he could react, before he could finish the sentence, Sam's cold, sweat and blood covered hand touched his chest. Right above his heart.
"Sam?" he searched his brother's face, as much as he could see…not that there was a lot to see, but…fear turned into trust, confusion turned into hope, pain turned into fix me and Sam's breathing calmed down to normal.
Dean could feel Sam's long, bony fingers starting to close together and before he knew it, Sam got a good grip on his shirt. His knuckles were pushing inside of his chest, the pressure too strong, like Sam was actually trying to reach his heart, but the bone prevented him to do so. And it hurt, kind of, but this was Sam…
"Sam, you're alright, you're gonna be alright."
And then, right there and right then, with Dean's heart as a steady beat underneath his hand, Sam stopped hearing the man's voice. Stopped hearing that dreadful scratchy voice, the whisper of help me, boy.
"Dean…" it came out breathless, but it was enough to be overheard over the creek, the wind and an awoken cricket.
"Sam?"
Dean looked at his brother, cupped his face in his shaking hands and squeezed hard enough to turn Sam's mouth into a pout.
"Sam?"
And when Sam's eyes rolled back, when white was all that was seen, when his body swayed and became light, like it didn't have a bone in it, Dean could have sworn he heard the moon say: "You weren't fast enough. He saw, he heard, he felt…"
"Sam!!"
One tear fell from Sam's eye, one lonely tear that ran slowly down his cheek, right over his mole, mixing with the sweat already there, and made it's resting place on Dean's shoulder, when Sam fell on it.
"Sammy!!"
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TBC
