This is inexcusably late, and I cannot express how sorry I am. Thank you all for sticking through this with me! Exams came out of nowhere, and totally kicked my butt. I only had enough energy to come home and collapse on my bed. But I'm back, and here, it's on Christmas! Yea!
This is another happy Dean and Sam chapter, even if it isn't happy. I had a question or two about ships or slash in this story. I try really hard not to write slash into my story unless is directly benefits the plot, or is the plot. That does not mean that I exclude slash. I attempt to write it where anything you want to ship is compatible. Want some wincest? Totally, there is nothing here to say "Nope, not this story." Bobby and John? Bring it on.
Oooonnnee last thing. I have serious writers block. I have this and a novel I am working on, so you may be thinking, Demory, what the hell, could you just focus on this please?! From my experience, writing a one-shot or something shortish can give me new perspective on my other, longer projects. So, if you have any prompts, preferably hurt (oh oh oh or DEAD) Sam, cause I looveee writing those. Seriously, bring it on. IM me or leave it in the reviews. :)
As he drifted in and out of sleep he heard voices. Dean wanted to leave; he wanted to scoop Sam into his arms and never look back. But they couldn't. There was some sort of tie between Sam and the thing. All they had was what they had gleamed from vague old books. But it seemed that any attempt to remove Sam any farther from its presence – which apparently extended all over the forest and motel – would result in Sam's possible demise. Maybe. Again, very vague. But it was not a chance they wanted to take. They had to kill it first.
Every time he opened his eyes a little bit, he saw Dean, perched on the bed next to him. Sometimes his hand was on his forehead, checking for a fever out of impulse. Sometimes he was just cradling Sam's hand. He felt safe for the first time in what had been, in actuality, a very long time.
That still made his head hurt to think about. He dreaded having to sit up and deal with the fact that he had apparently missed five years. Again he heard from the whispers; the tie he had with it preserved him, kept him the way he was when it found him. Just thinking about it made him shiver harshly.
"Sammy?"
He wanted to sleep forever, but he wanted to be with his bother more. His eyes opened fully and he peered up at his brother.
"Hi"
Dean grinned again, that stupid and pleased grin that was still all Sam's even though it had been five years.
"Heya there kiddo. How are ya feeling?"
It was only when Sam went to shrug that he noticed the incredible soreness coursing though him. All his muscles locked up and pain flared in his spine.
"Oh, ouch."
Dean's face morphed into concern, "what is it? What's wrong?"
"I just," he attempted to stretch again and quickly regretted it, "everything hurts."
"Can you sit up?" he asked, worried. Sam braced his arms by his sides and tried to lift himself – and promptly failed. He collapsed onto the ratty pillows and blankets whilst gasping.
"Whoah, whoah, it's okay," Dean pulled him up so Sam was cradled against his side and the pillows. "Bobby?" He asked anxiously, drawing Sam's attention to the man sitting at the old table in the corner, who sighed.
"I just don't know. But it sure as hell aint good. He got a fever?"
Dean's hand was on his forehead again in a second, and a grimace covered his face when he responded, "yeah. Thermometer?" Bobby just sighed again, knowing very well that Dean had no intention of getting up and leaving his brother alone on the bed. He stood up and went over to the medical pack and tossed the tool over to Dean.
"Open," he order softly. Sam complied, and they waited for it to beep. "Jesus," Dean said when he read it, "100, out of nowhere."
Sam just groaned, and his brother held him closer. Just then the door slammed open. Dean had himself armed and in front of Sam in a second flat, and Bobby followed suit. Everyone was relieved t find it was only John, who had his hands raised in mock surrender.
"Find anything?" Bobby asked as he sat back down.
"No, nothing," he wiped his hand down his face, "I couldn't find anything even resembling what he described." He smiled when he caught sight of his youngest awake on the bed, and walked over.
"Sammy," he said affectionately as he ruffled his hair. He frowned and shifted his hand down across Sam's forehead. "He's hot."
"100," Dean replied somberly.
John cursed under his breath and turned to look at Bobby.
"Why do you idjits always expect me to know?"
"Because you're Bobby," Sam said quietly, earning a chuckle from everyone in the room and an eye roll from Bobby.
"Right, well here's what I've got: Whatever this thing is, it's got some tie with Sam, some life-force bond or something, hence the fact that we can't leave. It would be like ripping the bond in two, snipping a tense string. I don't think either of you could survive the repercussions. But, from what I can tell, just not leaving isn't gonna cut it. I suspect Sam's getting weaker because he is far away from it, separated, since they share the same life-force now. We've gotta find some way to disentangle their souls or whatever. But, if we are lucky, the fact that Sam's getting weaker may mean that it is getting weaker as well."
Dean's face was conflicted. Hurt Sam = Bad, but Hurt Monster = Good.
"So we can't just sit here anymore. Your saying Sam's only gonna get worse?"
"Don't hold me to any of this boy, but I suspect so."
"Let's go then," Dean said, having apparently decided that weak Sam matter more than weak monster. He moved to stand up, but then realized he was covered with little brother.
"Dean, wait. We can't go now. It's too dark, that thing will destroy us," John tried to reason. When Dean remained tense and undecided, he tried again. "If it gets us, it gets Sam. Do you really want to put him in that sort of danger again?"
Dean's face broke then, but he still was upset. "What are we supposed to do then? Wait until morning? Who's telling how sick Sammy will be by then?"
"Us walking out there right now would be handing it Sam on a silver platter Dean," John said strictly, "we will wait."
Dean shrunk a little farther back and held onto his brother a little bit tighter at that statement. "How are we supposed to just sit here? I have to help him dad, I have too." He looked down at Sam's sleepy face and said quietly, "I owe him that."
"It's okay Dean, really," Sam yawned, stuck between awake and asleep, "I'm still really sleepy. I could go for a couple more hours."
The older brother seemed for a moment like he didn't like the idea of Sam sleeping. He didn't, he was so very afraid that his little brother wouldn't open his eyes again. But there was no way he was going to say that and frighten Sam any more than he already was. So he silently vowed to watch Sam like a hawk (like he had failed to do last time.) His fist tightened around the thermometer and he nodded tightly.
"'Course Sammy. I'm right here, it's okay, I promise. Just get some sleep."
Sam nodded slightly and used whatever meager amount of energy he had left to burrow into his brother's shoulder, then he was out like a light.
Nobody else slept. They kept a solemn vigil over the room and the beloved boy inside. Bobby sat at the desk, reading as much as he possibly could. John watched the door intently, his shotgun in his lap. Dean checked Sam's temperature every half hour, his frown deepening each time.
Rain pounded on the roof on and off. The wind had picked up, and was hitting violently against the boarded up windows and rickety door. It howled ferociously, a high keening sound. There were many times when it seemed like more than the wind, and John's grip on his gun tightened. They just had to hold on, and make it through the night.
"After this," John promised, "we will stop. Settle down. There is no way I'll get this close to losing one of them every again."
Sam woke up multiple times, each more bleary than the last. He would babble incoherently for a few moments to Dean before slipping back into sleep. Dean would give a weak smile at the innocence of his brother, once again in his arms, then check his rising temperature.
It was nearly 3am when John cleared his throat. It was a gruff sound that had broken the fearful silence.
"How's he doin?" He nodded towards his youngest son. Dean looked down sadly and shifted Sam in his arms. The thermometer beeped, and he read, "104."
"Dammit," John rubbed his calloused hand over his face, exhausted. Dean didn't respond.
Sam hummed and turned his face out of his brother's shirt. "Dee?"
"Yeah baby, I'm right here."
"'s pretty," he slurred.
At first Dean didn't follow, until he saw his brother's hand raised, weak and trembling, to indicate the symbol carved on the headboard.
"Yeah, I guess it sort of is, isn't it?"
It was a sun with wobbly lines surrounding it, thickly at first, then thinning out as they moved outward. It was some sort of anti-demon thing John had found, and Dean had carved it thinking about his brother. It reminded it of him, somehow. Sam had the sun inside him, of that Dean was sure. The sun and the stars and everything else warm and wonderful. God, and he had almost lost that. What would Dean do if he lost his sun?
Sam hummed again and leaned forward so his fingers could trace the carving. His head tilted so his eyes could take in all the many other symbols carved around the room.
Suddenly, he struggled to sit up. "Hey hey hey, Sammy, what is it?"
"Just wanna see."
"Honey, I really think you should just sit down."
"uhuh," Sam shook his head.
Dean wrapped his arms around his brother in an attempt to support him as he insisted on standing up.
"I can do it," he said softly, shaking off Dean's arms. But that did not deter him. As Sam stumbled around the room, his hands tracing the walls and symbols dreamily, Dean was always one step behind him, watching in case he fell. This continued for two of the walls until it was Bobby's turn to clear his throat.
"Look at this."
John was over by the table in a heartbeat, but Dean hesitated behind Sam. John's grunt of approval once he began to read over Bobby's shoulder was what pulled Dean away. Bobby began to read aloud.
"Big fugly thing from Indian mythology. Sort of uneatheral, It's a huge shadow thing. Takes up entire underground cave systems. It would explain how it has been moving around unnoticed, being underground."
Dean listened intently, but constantly looked over at his brother, who was walking slowly and silently down the wall.
"Here's the kicker. It can cut off pieces of itself and control them. People sized pieces, maybe bigger, maybe smaller. They can shapeshift, but need to be linked to some pure source of power, possibly Sam," He directed his attention towards the youngster, "That sound like what you saw kiddo? You said it was only a piece, the thing that looked like your mother."
Sam had moved farther down the wall and was opening the door to look into the bathroom, absorbing the symbols there as well. His back still to his family, they saw him nod slightly.
"There were lots of other pieces too. They were squirming around, changing again and again and again…" Sam trailed off quietly, cocking his head as he stared at something they couldn't see.
"Sam?" Dean asked, repressing a shudder at his description.
"It's a deer," Sam spoke, enraptured at the sight of the lovely doe just outside the bathroom window, which was still uncovered from when he had pried the board off.
The entire room froze, then burst into motion. Dean lunged forward to pull his brother away from the room, while John and Bobby approached it with guns in hand.
"What?" Sam asked, confused and nauseous because of the sudden and unexpected motion.
"Everything's dead. This thing, whatever it is, kills it all. We haven't seen another single living thing since we arrived," Dean spoke quietly into his brother's ear.
"Well maybe it escaped!" Sam murmed happily as Dean deposited him on the bed and stood protectively in front of it.
Bobby and John raised their guns tensely, while Sam and Dean watched from over their shoulders. Everyone noted with horror that the rain had seeped through the shattered window and ruined the wallpaper, and the symbols on it. Everything was still and silent as they waited for something to happen.
Suddenly, the animal began to ripple. Its flesh shivered and moved over its body. Its colors blended and morphed into shades of repelling gray and black. That for a moment, and then it appeared that whatever internal structure the thing had maintained had dissolved completely. It grew taller and thinner, then shorter and wider. It transformed rapidly but randomly before settling on a body. They watched in apt disgust. Finally it began to settle down, resembling a distorted wolf. It locked eyes with John while it tensed on its haunches. A howl echoed loudly, and Sam shrunk away. A moment passed while it stared. Then John cocked his gun and all hell brook loose.
It gave an inhuman sound, between a scream and a growl, then lunged for the window. They fired rapidly, but upon seeing it had not deterred the beast, slammed the bathroom door shut and retreated to guard the bed.
There was a loud, splintering noise and the old door shook, then nothing. A minute passed, then two. John edged forward toward the door, his gun out. His glanced back, and Bobby nodded slightly.
He kicked the door open and jumped back to aim into the room. Still nothing happened. The dull light that had hung from the ceiling was no more, and the small room was shrouded with darkness. John hesitated, unsure as how to proceed. The thing was darkness, right? Or it lived in it? Damnit, they needed more information. John's inner monologue was interrupted by a sharp "click" and a bright beam of light shining into the bathroom. Everyone turned to look at Sam, who had taken control of the flashlight. He shined the light as far into the bathroom as possible from his position and watched intently. There was nothing there.
"It's gone," Dean breathed in relief.
"Why? How can we be sure?" John urged, agitated.
Sam turned the flashlight's beam onto the symbols still above the doorframe. "The bathroom might be messed up, but this room isn't."
Everyone was silent. John walked forward again and closed the bathroom door.
