Abomination
Summary: Sam and Dean have always been freaks, Sam found out when he was twenty two just how much of a freak he was. It wasn't until the boys are trapped once again by the demon that they find out Dean's little secret that none of them knew about. Just a quick one shot that's been playing on my mind.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em or the show but man… I wish I did.
It's been forever since I've updated this but I'm trying really hard to get updates for all my stories. Evil Uni and assessment deadlines are murder but I'm working my way through them and hopefully once they've stopped taking up soooo much time I can get back to writing – God I can't wait until the summer when I'll all that free time.
Fire in the Hole
Bright orange, burning fire surrounded him. Everything was burning. Every surface had a flame spreading across it that turned whatever it touched gradually to a thick black ash. Smoke clouded his view of the room he was in but even though he couldn't make out the details, he recognised the odd shapes. It was a child's room… a baby's room. And the baby cried, lying all alone in the crib. The fire crept towards it, threatening to engulf both crib and baby.
His heart hammered, sweat dripped from every pore as the temperature kept on rising. He had to save the baby; he had to get the baby out of there. Crouching low, he made his way towards the crib, coughing as the smoke found its way into his lungs. The flames licked at the crib now, climbing slowly up the legs and towards the cotton. Quicker than he thought he could, he plunged his arms into the crib and pulled the baby out, mere moments before the whole thing caught fire.
"It's okay… I've got you." He whispered, cradling the baby, "It's okay Sammy, I won't let it get you."
He felt a heavy but gentle handle fall on his shoulder and the scene transformed. He was a kid again, no more than four years old, staring at his world burning away – the only home he would ever know disappearing as the fire consumed it all, along with the mother he loved so deeply. He held little Sammy tightly in his arms and his father held him tightly in his.
"You can't hold onto him forever Dean." His father whispered gently into his ear as he tried to coax young Sam out of Dean's grip.
"But I can try." Dean replied, unwilling to let go.
"Dean?" Sam moaned, turning over in his half sleep to look towards his brother's bed.
Dean groaned painfully in reply and Sam lifted his head from his pillow a little to get a better look. The room was dimly lit but Sam could see the thin layer of sweat on the eldest Winchester's skin.
"Dean?" He repeated, pulling himself up further and out from the covers, "You okay man?"
When he didn't reply, Sam reached out and switched the lamp on that sat on the cabinet between the beds. Dean's face was pale and sickly, eyes moving rapidly under his eyelids and his breathing was uneven, quick in places and slow to the point of stopping in others. The dressing on the wounded arm was soaked in black.
Sam shot to his brother's side immediately, grabbing the arm to get a better look. Whatever the black was it wasn't blood - that much Sam knew. It felt sticky; as he peeled the bandage away he was reminded of hot summer days when the tar on the road would melt. The thick black substance made it hard to peel the wrapping away and Sam was extra careful as he tried to separate it from Dean's skin.
Taking a deep breath, Sam got to his feet and grabbed the small tin bin on his way to the bathroom. Emptying the contents onto the floor, he filled the bin with water and picked up a couple of towels and the first aid kit to take back to Dean. The tar like stuff came away from the skin easier than Sam thought.
Ten minutes later and Sam had washed most of it off until he could once again see the skin of Dean's arm. The veins were raised like thin stripes going up and down the arm, dark and black.
"Son of bitch." Sam cursed.
His vision was consumed by the fire, flickering and crackling. The noises surrounding him slowly died out around him until they were all gone, somewhere in the background he could hear his father talking. The load in his arms changed and he realised he was no longer holding little Sammy but was hugging his knees in tight.
He blinked and burrowed his brow. A second ago he was four years old and hugging Sam tightly while he watched his home burn to the ground and now… Now he was sitting in front of a fireplace, watching the fire dance in front of his eyes.
"Dean, come away from there." His father called to him and he looked up and over his shoulder.
John was standing by the wall, a phone held tightly in his hands. His eyes stared hard at his young son. He stayed like that until Dean shifted and made to sit on the old and seriously fugly red and dirty orange couch. Once John resumed his conversation, Dean glanced at his surroundings once again.
He remembered this place. It was a small depressing cabin surrounded by trees, tall old trees. He remembered the trees; he remembered how he'd been so small that he couldn't see the top of them. He must have been about six and it had been a really cold summer.
He narrowed his eyes as he watched his father, standing there strong and proud - a John who still had so much to learn about the ways of hunting, a John who hadn't been hardened into a general who would treat his sons like soldiers… not yet.
But Dean was only dreaming… he realised it now. He was deep in some weird slumber land that was giving him a trip down memory lane.
Hanging up the phone, John turned to face Dean once again, glancing into the background for mere moments, "Where's Sammy, Dean?"
"Wha?" Dean asked, the simple words seeming incomprehensible.
"Your brother Dean, where is he? I told you to look after him." John asked again, shaking his head in disappointment.
The words made it through this time and Dean looked around him. He could see a stuffed teddy bear that belonged to little Sammy but no Sammy, "I… I don't know."
"For God sakes Dean! Ten minutes, that's all I ask. Ten minutes while I make a phone call." John blurted out angrily, starting a frantic search of the room, "Well don't just sit there, look for him."
Dean flinched at his father's harsh words and shot up from the couch, immediately joining the search. It was a matter of seconds before he noticed the front door and the small gap that meant it was open.
"This never happened." Dean whispered; barely even realising he'd spoken the words out loud. He knew memories could be twisted and moulded but he also knew that he remembered every single mistake he had ever made, every single time that Sam had gone missing and every little scratch that Sam had ever gotten and this… this he didn't remember and he knew it never happened.
"What?" John asked, looking over at his eldest. He was agitated and angry and was taking it out on the nearest target.
Dean gazed for awhile at his father for awhile before answering; knowing the rapid change in behaviour was more like the later John. He hesitated, "I said this never happened."
"What the hell are you talking about Dean? This is happening now!"
Dean shook his head timidly, feeling like the six year old he'd been transformed into. "No… it's not. I'm dreaming… this isn't real. None of this is…"
With shaking hands Sam unscrewed the holy water and poured it over the open wound, listening as it hissed as soon as it made contact. He cringed at the sound and had to take a deep steadying breath in order to keep a semi rational mind. He could only think to redress the wound and call the only person that he knew could really help them.
"Come on Bobby." Sam begged when he finally got around to calling the long time family friend, "Answer the phone… answer the goddamn phone Bobby."
His leg bounced violently as he rocked his foot impatiently against the ground and it got harder and hard to breathe the longer it took Bobby to answer. Silently, he repeated his pleads and groaned when they remained unanswered, nearly losing patience until finally Bobby picked up.
"Hallo?" He answered, like a man expecting bad news.
"Bobby! It's Sam… we're in trouble. The yellow eyed bastard came and Dean won't wake up…." Sam blurted the words out before he had chance to think about what he was saying.
"Hold up… just, take it easy. Where are you?"
Sam's mind went blank as he tried to think passed the immediate thoughts and stressing on his mind, the location stumbled from his lips in such a rush when it finally came that he had to repeat it so Bobby was sure.
"I'll be there as soon as I can. Keep him cool and keep the wound as clean as you can." Bobby ended the conversation and Sam could tell by the sound in his voice that he was already packing his things together to make his way to the boys.