*Requested By: ramoniciu*

Summary: Thinking they need some time off, Dean sets a day off to rent a boat and go fishing. But what was supposed to be a relaxing day turns into a deadly experience. (Season 2-ish , cast on Sam's arm and everything.)

Again, thanks for all the requests and keep them coming. I'm trying to do them as fast as I can without my head exploding. Oh yeah, and for those who were reading my other story 'Stonewall', I haven't updated in awhile because my beta is on vacation. Sorry guys.

Ramoniciu said angsty and dramatic, so here goes nothing...

"C'mon, Sam. Move your ass," Dean says, throwing two rented fishing poles in the trunk of the car and a cooler full of beer. He took the jar of worms off the ground and placed them in the corner so they wouldn't roll over. It was just three days before Sam's twenty-third birthday so Dean figured that he could use a relaxing day off.

Sam emerged from the motel room, his face showed no enthusiasm at all. He walked rather sluggishly toward the Impala. He looked at Dean briefly and then slid down into the passenger seat.

Soon, Dean closed the trunk after making sure they had everything they needed. He sat down and started the car. From the corner of his eye he noticed Sam's expression and rolled his eyes.

"Well, damn, Sam. Control your excitement, would ya?" Dean says sarcastically.

Sam chuckles.

Dean looked backward, checking for oncoming cars as he backed out of his parking space.

"What is it?" Dean asks. "Don't wanna spend a day with your big brother, huh? Afraid the kid will make fun of you?"

Sam smiled. "You?" he says. "No, I deal with you on a daily bases. But fishing? Come on, Dean."

Dean turns the car forward and makes an exit out of the parking lot. He hit's the radio and Led Zeppelin's "Ramble On" is playing. He drums on the steering wheel for a little before coming to a stop at the red light and turning his attention back to Sam who hasn't broken his stare on him.

Dean shrugged. "Fishing's fun."

Looking briefly at the silver Honda pulling up to the side of them. The woman in it was pretty. She had long dark hair and bright red lip stick. She smiled at Sam and tiled her head forward to see who was in the driver seat. When she seen Dean she arched her eyebrows and winked at him. But Dean didn't see. He was too busy rocking out.

Sam looked away from the woman. "And how many time have you been fishing?"

Dean looked down at his fingers. "Including today?"

Sam nodded.

Dean mumbled some numbers, did some math in the air and counted off some of his fingers.

"Zero."

Sam laughed a little. "That's what I thought"

The light turned green and Dean stepped on the gas pedal.

Dean looked at Sam skeptically. "So what's your point, smarty?"

"My point is: you've never been fishing. I've never been fishing. There's no reason to go, then."

Dean slows for the stop sign. "There's a first time for everything, Sammy."

Sam smiles and rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you keep telling me that."

Pressing on the gas pedal and turning left Dean nods. "And maybe one day you'll listen."

Sam laughed, turning his eyes out the window. "This day should be interesting…"


"One hour," Sam complained. He banged the end of his fishing pole on the end of the boat and sighed.

Dean looks over at him but doesn't say anything.

"We've been on this water for an hour and we haven caught anything."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Maybe the fish are frightened by your stench."

"Sam, really. What the hell is your problem?"

Sam shrugs.

Dean holds his hand out, gesturing to the pretty white boat they were on. "I rented his boar for us. Look at it. It's friggin' huge! Today's a nice day. Everything's going great. But your attitude sucks."

"My attitude sucks? Your attitude sucks. This fake personality you have. What's up with that? And fishing? Who the hell fishes?"

Dean smiles. "Are you drunk?"

Sam's mouth drops open. "What? No, I'm not drunk."

"Then what the hell, Sam? Just shut up and relax. I'm trying to have a good day with you and you're making it impossible."

Sam stands up.

"Fine," he says in a mumbled tone.

Dean fixes his line. "Fine."

Dean throws his line further over the yard drop to the water.

"Damn it," he says, tugging at his line. "Sammy, my line's stuck. Can you fix it for me?"

Sam looks at him for a second, then down at his line. Without a word, he stands and leans over the side, fixing Dean's line. Just when Sam was about to some back over, Dean's mind registered a thought.

He reached over and pushed Sam into the water.

Dean busted out laughing, he held his stomach and laughed do hard his mouth hurt. He dropped his line on floor and continued to laugh. He heard the sound of Sam clashing into the water in a few seconds. He looked over and seen his whole body go underwater.

Dean quickly gathered himself and took hold of his line again. He sat down, thinking that Sam would come climbing up the stairs soaking wet and pissed off.

A minute went by..

Then two…

Dean was getting nervous. He sat his fishing pole down and walked over to the edge of the boat and leaned over the guarding rail. His eyes wandered frantically all around the water in front of him.

"I know you can swim, Sam! Stop messing around!" Dean called, trying to keep calm.

At that moment, he was expecting Sam to emerge from the water laughing. His mood now lightened. But he didn't.

"Sam!" Dean called. He looked onto the water more thoroughly, trying to find where Sam was.

There was about a yard and a half drop to the water, but the bottom of the boar was about a yard and a half underwater, keeping it afloat. In easier terms: It was a pretty long drop to the water, and there was a lot of water to get lost in.

Dean could feel his heart pick up speed as he leaned further over the rail.

Nothing.

He didn't see Sam at all.

And at that moment Dean knew something was wrong.

Sam wasn't coming back up.


Breathing is something that Sam will never take for granted ever again. He'd do anything to have a lungful of air right now. He could feel his chest tighten and his heart beat beginning to slow. Sam tugged at his shirt that was caught to the bottom of the boat. It had gotten snagged to it when he was pushed over and he couldn't move. He couldn't get from underwater.

Sam was getting scared. It might've been purely in his mind, or it may've been true, but he could've sworn his cast was weighing him down. He could feel himself being able to sink deeper into the murky water, but not being able to emerge from it.

Where was Dean?

That was the only thing that could cross Sam's mind as he struggled with his shirt.

Take off the shirt. That would be the logical thing to do, right?

Sam's tried that. He can't maneuver enough to get either one of his hands out of his sleeve. He felt the boat move suddenly, smacking up against his body, pushing what little air he had left out of his lungs.

Uncontrollably, Sam gasped for air, only getting water. His hands came up to his throat as water filled his lungs. Suddenly, he felt his chest get this awful pain. Like someone was ripping it open. He couldn't take a deep breath to ease the pain. He couldn't even find the strength to massage it. He couldn't do anything. Suddenly, Sam was paralyzed.

He could still see, though. Blue-green water all around him and still no sign of Dean.

What the hell?

Taking the very last bit of strength left in Sam's almost lifeless body, he gave his shirt one more tug, trying to unhook himself. But, no. He was still stuck. His only hope was Dean.

'You can always count on me, dude,' he remembered Dean saying once.

So that's exactly what Sam started to do: he started counting.

1...2...3...

By the time he got to three, his world started to fade. His eyes got heavy, his body relaxed.

4...5...6...

Black dots were beginning to cloud his vision. He felt his heart pounding, shaking his whole body. He felt his lungs begging for air, his body begging for mercy, and his mind begging for Dean.

7...8...

But pretty soon, within a matter of seconds, Sam felt nothing.


Dean dove into the water head first, deciding enough was enough. It's been about three minutes since Sam's been under. Three minutes too long, according to Dean. Sam could swim, he knew that. There was no reason for him to stay under that long unless something was wrong.

As soon as Dean's head hit the water he was freezing. The water was ice cold, he could feel himself shivering. As he bobbed in the water he searched the perimeter of the boat first, hoping to see Sam. When he didn't, he dove underwater.

He went to the bottom of the boat and planned to do a full 360 of it to see if Sam was somewhere under here, but he didn't have to go too far to find him. Through his red and unclear eyes, Dean seen Sam. He was right near the bottom of the boat. His shoulder unusually stuck to the boat. His back was arched backward and his arms were floating at his side. His hair was whooshing and waving all over the place, and his feet hung there lifelessly, just like the rest of his body.

Dean couldn't get there fast enough.

When he actually swam to his brother, he put his hand under his back, giving him support. He tried to pull Sam backward to take him to the top when he realized why his shoulder we unusually close to the boat. He was stuck.

Of course he's stuck, Dean thought sort of angrily , Sam's too difficult to make this an easy rescue.

Dean tugged at Sam's shirt. It wouldn't budge. How the hell did he get stuck that tight in a matter of seconds?

Dean pushed himself up more, getting a better look at it. Seeing it to bee too difficult to get out in a matter of seconds, he simply lifted Sam's arms and pulled at his waist until his body slipped out of the shirt. He began to sink helplessly to the bottom, but Dean gripped him tight and swam to the surface with Sam in his arms.

When they emerged from underneath the boat Dean was gasping for air. Too bad, Sam wasn't . He lay there just as he did when Dean has first got him. His head lay limply in the space between Dean's chin and his shoulder. Sam's arm was thrown around Dean's neck as Dean kept him above sea level. Trying to keep a good grip on Sam's slippery skin was tough so Dean adjusted his hand so that he was holding onto Sam's belt. It had a better grip on it, assuring Dean that Sam wouldn't slip out of his arms and fall back under. Dean was beginning to become more and more scared when he didn't feel Sam's breathing hitting against his neck as he tried to swim to the boat. He didn't feel anything.

Sam wasn't breathing.

"Oh my God," Dean says when he notices. But he shakes his head, quickly, not giving himself the chance to think.

"I got'cha, Sam. I got you. It's gonna be okay," Dean says softly into Sam's ear even though he didn't hear one word he said.

"We're gonna go back to the boat and everything's going to be alright, okay? You gonna be alright. You're gonna be fine," Dean continues. He could hear his voice beginning to quiver as he looked down at Sam's still form in his arms.

Taking no time to dwell, Dean began to swim.

Dean made it to the boat in record time. Getting up the ladder was a struggle. He had to walk upward, hold Sam, hold the rail, and keep his balance on a wet metal pole at the same time.

When he finally got to the top, he lay Sam's wet body on the ground as gently as possible. He didn't want to hurt him. The first thing he noticed was how his lips were beginning to turn a bluish color. Dean's hand was shaky, too shaky to try to find a pulse, so he did it the old fashioned way. Dean brought his ear to the center of Sam's chest and listened.

Almost instantly, he heard the faint and dull beating of Sam's heart.

But the sound of Sam's heart didn't bring too much relief. He knew Sam wasn't breathing and without him breathing, soon his heart would stop.

Dean took in a not-so-calming deep breath.

He was pretty much clueless on how to do this, but he was almost certain he'd figure something out.

Putting both his hands together, Dean put them on Sam's chest and pushed.

"C'mon, Sammy. Come on."

He remembered the doctors on television counting to a certain number and them checking if the person was breathing. Mocking them, that's exactly what Dean did. He began counting each time he pressed down on Sam's chest.

"One…Two…Three…Four…Five," Dean counted aloud, fighting back tears that were blurring his vision.

He bent over and tried to feel any type of air coming from Sam.

Nothing.

Dean wiped his eyes and started over.

"One…Two…Three…Four…Five."

Nothing.

Dean put his head down for a second. "Come on, Sam. Please!"

He started again.

"One…Two…Three!"

By now, Dean was more hitting Sam's chest than he was pushing on it.

Dean leaned forward, letting his forehead fall at the top of Sam's stomach for a moment while he tried to keep his tears at bay, but he couldn't. If Sam didn't wake up, if Sam was actually gone, it was Dean's fault. He's the one that pushed him over, and he'd be the one who didn't get to him in time.

"Sam, please," Dean cried. "Please, I'm sorry. Please wake up, Sammy. Please…"

Dean sat up, and wiped both is bloodshot eyes with anger, guilt, and frustration.

Dean slammed his hand down on Sam's chest with every word he said.

"Breathe, Sam!"

He pounded his fists in the center of Sam's chest.

Nothing.

Sam's head bobbles there lifelessly.

"Sam, please!" Dean yelled, tears ran freely down his face, dropping off his chin and onto his hands.

Dean brought his hands down to Sam's chest again.

"Damn it, Sam! Wake up. Please, wake up!"

At that moment, Dean was at a dean end. He hit Sam's chest with enough force to break it, but it did the most miraculous thing.

Just then, Dean heard the most beautiful sound: Sam gasping for breath.

Sam's upper body lifted slightly and turned to the side. Water was spewing out of mouth and onto the boat. He coughed hard, his face turning red. His chest was turning red, too, from Dean beating on it.

At first Dean was frozen, he couldn't believe it.

Sam was alive.

Finally coming back to reality, Dean reached down and brought Sam into a hug. Still, Dean felt himself tearing, but they were tears of joy this time.

"I thought I lost you, Sammy," Dean whispers, rocking back and forth with Sam in his arms.

Sam was still coughing. Dean could feel Sam's body jerk in his arms each time he coughed, but he didn't care. Sam would be alright and he knew it.

"I'm so sorry, Sam. This is all my fault," Dean continued, still rocking.

Sam hadn't answered , but he had stopped coughing but he was breathing heavily. His chin was rested on Dean's shoulder and his arms were loosely at his sides. Sam's wet hair dripped off the ends of his hair and onto the back of Dean's shirt.

Dean gripped Sam tighter. "I thought I killed you, Sammy," he cried, biting his lower lip to keep it from shaking. He quickly blinked the tears away and took in a breath.

Sam's weak coughs were his only reply. He felt Sam pull back a little, trying to release himself from Dean's choking grip.

"Dean, let go," Sam asks, gently. His voice is hoarse.

Instantly, Dean lets Sam go.

When he gets a good look at Sam he can see his color is coming back. He smiles at him.

"You're crying," Sam says in a soft voice.

Dean nods.

Sam pushed himself back to the rail of the boat, giving his back support to sit up pin the sitting position.

"'M sorry I scared you," Sam mumbles, resting his head on the rail, letting out a much needed deep breath.

Dean shook his head.

"I deserved it. I should've pushed you. I was just playing. I didn't think you'd get hurt," Dean explained.

Sam shrugged. "I know. It's okay. I'll be okay."

Again, Dean wiped his eye.

He stands.

"So what now?" Dean asks.

Sam smiles and just shakes his head. "Dean, I just wanna go home."

Dean nods, taking the wheel of the boat and turning it back in the direction they came from.

"Home sounds really good right about now."


Was that dramatic enough for you? lol I hope you enjoyed it though.

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