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This prompt is from ItzAGoodThing:
How about, for whatever reason, Sam drowns. He isn't breathing by the time Dean gets him back on shore, and he has to perform rescue breathing until Sam starts beating again. Anytime after season 1.
It took me a while to come up with something that wasn't plotless, and it's a bit weird, but forgive me - it'll probably seem off track, but I felt compelled to write it this way.
This is set in season 2.
"A turtle. You want to hunt a turtle?" Dean asked, incredulity in his voice. "Dad never mentioned any turtles in his journal-"
"It's not a turtle. It's an aspidochelone, or asp-turtle. And it sounds insane, but I think we're dealing with one! Entire ships seem to be docking in the middle of the ocean on uncharted islands, then they sink. Asp-turtles rest in the middle of the ocean, pretending to be an island, and then they eat sailors."
Dean put a hand in his hand to signal Sam to stop. "Dude. We hunt ghosts and wendigos. We don't hunt things that are the size of a friggin' island!"
"Yeah, it's big, but it's really easy to take down," Sam protested, thumbing through a book he'd gotten at the library. "All we need to do is perform a banishing spell, and it sinks to the bottom of the ocean forever."
Dean sighed. "Fine. Where is it?"
"Well, it's a bit far, but I figured since it's winter and we've been doing some cold hunts lately…" Sam met his brother's eyes. "It's in the Florida Keys."
"Oh, come on! We're in Wisconsin!" Dean argued. "Isn't there anything closer?"
"Nothing we haven't done a million times. It's something new!"
Dean sighed. "Alright." He paused, a smile growing across his face. "At least we'll get to meet some chicks," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. "In bikinis!"
They arrived in Florida two days later to find that the sun was as warm and bright as they'd hoped on their drive down. The beach that the asp-turtle was supposed to be off of was also renowned for having good surf, so Dean opted for a nicer motel on the water than the ones they usually got.
It was a nice change of pace, having sheets that felt clean and a room that smelled fresh instead of stale french fries. Since they never crossed through Florida while driving to hunts, it was rare that they took a case in the state, least of all in the Keys.
"So you got the spell all ready to go?" Dean asked, waving his hand vaguely in the air. Sam nodded.
Dean turned the television on to a sports game. "Let's go out tonight. Get it done, and then do a bit of vacationing."
Sam looked up from his laptop. "You're serious? I thought you were bent on going on non-stop hunts lately."
Dean didn't answer. Sam watched him a moment longer before returning to his research on asp-turtles. From what the spell looked like, it seemed like it would be an easy hunt.
Was it ever an easy hunt?
Not according to Sam and Dean's luck, it seemed, Sam thought wryly as their small boat they had rented dipped dangerously to the side as the giant turtle roared in anger. Fortunately, it was extremely slow, but that didn't stop it from being able to make huge waves that made their boat nearly flip.
Dean was clinging to the edge of the boat, looking like he was going to vomit, so Sam took over with the spell.
If the turtle hadn't been sending waves towards them, it would have been a peaceful night. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, so the moonlight lit up the ocean's surface magnificently. The water looked black with the night and Sam couldn't help but imagine a shark fin, gliding underneath.
But that was silly. After everything they'd faced, it was stupid to be afraid of something as normal as a shark.
"Now, Sam!" Dean yelled, and Sam began reading the Latin.
"Et abiit, pluruma. Descendat, et non ascendat in mare."
The island-sized turtle rearer upwards then splashed back into the water, roaring so loudly that Sam had to fight the impulse to cover his ears. Their boat rocked back and forth in the waves and he wasn't quite sure how they were still upright.
"Numquam iterum gratia tua mali sunt aquae. Cume his verbis, descendebat secundum tempus in interitu occisorum in tuo usque in sempiternum. Relinquatis: turtur, et non revertetur!" Sam shouted, and suddenly the turtle began to sink into the water as though someone had set weights on top of it. It made a squealing sound, one of its legs splashing up by the surface and nearly overturning their boat into the water. The boat tipped violently to the right and Sam tumbled, feeling his head ricochet off of the side. Fortunately, the boat righted itself just before it rolled, and Sam climbed back into the boat, soaking wet from the water that had sloshed on board.
"You all right?" came Dean's voice from the other end of the boat. He too was on the ground, shaking water out of his hair.
Sam brushed a hand over his forehead, and it came away with blood. It didn't feel too painful, though, so he assumed it was cosmetic.
"I'm fine," he decided. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Let's get back before this boat sinks," Dean said, taking hold of the wheel. They cruised off into the night towards shore, the water now peaceful with only the remains of the large waves lapping harmlessly at the edge of the boat.
They walked back into their darkened motel room a bit more positively than times of the past. Not only had the hunt been successful, but neither of them had gotten dramatically hurt, and it was quick. Nothing was more annoying than a hunt that took many hours to do.
Dean stripped off his shirt to head into the bathroom. He paused to grin at Sam. "Ice cream. Beaches. Girls. It can't get any better than this. Besides, now that Dad's… not around, we need a breather."
Sam laughed, taking off his own shirt while he waited for Dean to finish in the bathroom. It was nearing one in the morning, but he wasn't climbing into bed before showering; not with the salt from the ocean clinging to him. Dean finished within ten minutes and he took the shower, pleased to see that the hot water wasn't gone.
"This is weird."
Sam and Dean were walking along the boardwalk, each holding an ice cream cone, strolling along like… people. Normal people.
"This is bizarre," Dean agreed. "Man, I wish we'd worn shorts."
He was right. Sam was sweating in his jeans. Neither of them had thought to wear shorts in the hot Florida sun. Every hunt they went on, it was always Winchester Protocol to wear jeans, because scratches to the legs were all too common. In addition, if the hunt went wrong and they were left outside overnight or got wet, they'd need warmer clothing.
So, yeah, Sam thought, watching everyone walk around them in bathing suits and shorts, it must be a Winchester thing - not dressing appropriately.
Dean seemed to be enjoying himself for the first time in ages. Sam hadn't seen his brother smile like he was now since… before their Dad had died. But between the sunshine and the chatter of people milling about, it had put a smile on Dean's face, and Sam couldn't help but smile as well.
Dean suddenly slapped his arm. "Dude. Surfing lessons."
Sam looked at him, surprised. "You're not serious?"
"Dead serious."
Sam struggled for words. "But… we don't…"
"Why not?" Dean persisted.
Sam had no answer. He shrugged. "Fine. You can do it."
Dean's smile faded. "You're such a girl. You don't want to do it? Come on!"
Sam felt his face get hot. "I want to do it. I just… what if there are… sharks? Or stingrays?"
Dean blinked at him. "You're kidding me, right? All of the things we see that go bump in the night and you're afraid of fish?"
Sam could feel himself getting defensive. "Things that go bump in the night are stopped by things like salt and iron. If a shark decides it wants to take a bite out of you, what are you supposed to do? I don't think that an exorcism, or… or silver would scare it!"
"Yeah. We need to get out more," Dean said, looking at Sam. "Let's go, princess."
And that was how thirty minutes later, they were standing on the beach with ten other normal people, watching a sandy-haired guy in his twenties demonstrate how to transition from the stomach to the feet on a surfboard.
The waves weren't large, but high enough to catch a wave. Sam looked warily at the cerulean water, praying that he wouldn't see any dark shapes or fins, and once they'd finished the brief lesson and gotten a surfboard, he waded out into the water with Dean, shuffling his feet as the instructor had told them so that if there was a stingray in the sand, they'd scare it away.
That wasn't very reassuring.
"How come we've never done anything like this?" Dean asked once they were on their boards and slowly paddling out. "We've literally been everywhere in the country. Rock climbing, skiing, horseback riding - we should try things out more."
Sam nodded in silent agreement, his eyes still scanning the water desperately for any sign of a fish.
"Stop it. There won't be any sharks," Dean said, noticing Sam's paranoia and rolling his eyes. "Dude. Shark attacks are so much less common than ghost attacks. I'd be more worried about another asp-turtle coming over."
Just as he finished his words, the instructor's voice called over to them.
"There's a good wave coming up! Get ready!"
Sam watched Dean begin to prepare to catch the wave, following his brother's moves. Somehow, Dean had caught onto this easily and knew exactly what he was doing; Sam, on the other hand, was hoping desperately that he wouldn't fall after three seconds and humiliate himself.
And then, they were suddenly pushing off of their stomachs and standing up, the wave riding underneath them smoothly and quickly.
Sam could appreciate the beauty of it before a sudden headache, pulsing in his head like a siren, made him fall to his knees. He could see flashes of a girl… a girl brushing her teeth in her room.
The ocean flickered back into view and he caught his breath right before the wave swallowed him. He tumbled underwater as the girl returned to his vision.
She was spitting into the sink, glancing backwards as the door opened behind her. A man walked in, and she stumbled backwards, clearly unsure of who this man was.
Then, he was underwater, and he could feel bubbles flying out of his mouth as the wave knocked him around like a washing machines. He could feel his back scraping against sand, and he paddled wildly for air before the pain behind his eyes peaked.
The girl was shoved backwards against the mirror, and it shattered, glass gouging her back. The man took out a knife, and with one swift stab, he plunged it into her heart. The girl blinked, looking stunned, and then she slumped over onto the floor, unmoving.
The blue of the ocean filled Sam's vision again and he instinctively breathed in only to choke on water. His lungs felt contradicted, and he couldn't breathe - but the surface was right there! He swam upwards, trying to reach it, and that was when another wave reared above him, knocking him backwards towards the sand again.
This isn't how I die, Sam thought desperately, feeling his head go fuzzy, and he kicked again only to find himself swimming towards the sand. Dazed, he felt consciousness leave him as another wave tugged at his body and spun him around again.
Dean could see Sam falling out of the corner of his eye. He snorted, feeling pleased with himself that was managing to stay upright while Sam toppled over like a ragdoll.
Man, it was a great feeling being better at surfing than his brother.
That was his thought right before his balance suddenly abandoned him and he fell into the water himself, the wave he had been riding crashing over his head. Spitting salt water, he swam towards the surface, grabbing onto his surfboard and grinning.
"Sam! Did you see that?" he called out to Sam, searching for the shaggy wet head.
But there was no shaggy wet head. Only Sam's surfboard, bobbing to the surface and rocking underneath a wave, was visible. Dean frowned, paddling over. It was probably a joke - or Sam had hit his head on something.
"Sam!" he called again, hearing no response. He dove underwater, opening his eyes, even though it stung painfully with the salt.
Sam was about twenty feet away, kicking wildly, and he didn't look very coordinated - or coherent. Adrenaline kicked in, and Dean lunged forward, swimming as quickly as he could in the aqua water towards his brother.
The waves kept pushing against him and he swore, pushing past them and reaching the spot where he'd seen Sam. Without further ado he dove under, grabbing Sam's unmoving body and dragging him towards the surface. Fortunately, Sam was much easier to carry in the water than out of it, and Dean propelled his brother's head above the surface, dearly hoping to hear Sam cough or otherwise give some indication that he was awake.
He didn't move.
"Sam!" Dean yelled, pushing him up onto the surfboard and beginning to swim them back to shore which was, thank God, not too far away.
He finally made contact with the sand with his feet, and sprinted as quickly as he could - which wasn't very fast, since he was submerged, and he felt like molasses - to drag Sam onto the shore.
"What happened?!" the instructor shouted, but Dean didn't answer; he was feeling for a pulse. He nearly shouted with relief when he found one, but Sam wasn't breathing, and that was the issue at hand.
Almost hearing his father's training in his voice as he did so, Dean tilted Sam's chin back onto the sand, and gave him two rescue breaths, willing him to breathe.
Sam sputtered, and water came choking out of his mouth as he sat up violently, eyes wide with panic.
"Dean!" he said almost instantly, gripping his brother. "We need to - we have to go!"
"Hold on!" Dean said, holding Sam's shoulders steady with his own hands. "You just drowned! Calm down!"
Sam's breathing was labored. Dean's eyes met Sam's, and he lined up his own breaths as a model. Sam slowed his pace, taking deeper, slower breaths, the wild look in his eyes fading. A crowd of people was now around them and Sam glanced at them anxiously. Dean threw them a dirty look but none of them moved.
"Let me through!" came the instructors voice, and he crouched next to Sam. "Are you alright, dude? I'll call 911-"
"No!" Dean interrupted. "He's fine-"
"It's protocol, and he needs a hospital - he just drowned!"
"No!" Sam and Dean both snapped at the same time, and the instructor looked so surprised that he froze.
"Dean, we need to… I need to tell you something," Sam insisted, gripping his brother's shoulder. Dean cast a look at the people all around them.
"Go away!" he said angrily. No one moved. "I swear, get away right now and give us some frickin' space!"
The instructor backed away, and almost as though following his example, everyone else followed, staying a short distance away.
"Dean, there's a girl - she's going to die. We need to save her," Sam whispered, keeping his voice low so as to not let the surrounding people hear.
"Vision? Is that why you fell?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded.
Dean sighed. "Dude, you need to have better timing. You almost died."
"I'm sorry," Sam said, an apologetic look on his face. Dean ran his hands over his face, keeping his stress at bay.
"Alright. Do you know where she is?"
"Middlebury, Vermont. She was at the college, I think, because there was a Middlebury mascot and sweatshirt."
Dean helped Sam stand, and they brushed the sand off of the hair before turning to the shocked onlookers.
"Thanks for the lesson," Dean said to the instructor, and he gestured out to the water. "My surfboard is out there somewhere."
The instructor gaped as they made their way off of the beach, Dean sticking close to Sam in case his little brother needed him at all, but not hovering - after all, it was only another near-death. They'd had worse.
Really weird one, right? But I read a fic recently (I can't remember what it was called or who wrote it though, sorry ) where they went surfing and for some reason the idea of Sam and Dean surfing stuck in my mind. I'd love to see them do it on the show.
But until then, this will have to suffice. Thanks again for the prompt, ItzAGoodThing!
Upcoming prompts for Idreamofivan and VegasGranny are on their way!
Prompts and reviews are much appreciated :)