Supernatural – Heart of Gold
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. I do own Haley.
Author's Note: So, how many of you lit the torches and sharpened your pitchforks while I was gone? Not too many I hope. Anyway, I just watched Dead Man's Blood, and realized how different these vampires are to the ones from Supernatural. And then I thought, who cares, it's not like I'll be doing that episode in this story.
And as always, a big thankyou to chase for being my beta reader, I'm sure the help you've given me has made my readers a lot happier with the chapters.
Chapter 25 – A Brother's Love
Wildcat023: As you can see, I have now done that. And I'm glad you understand that, lol, I'll try and be more specific if I ever do something like that again.
Ghostwriter: Oh, you think I am not capable of murdering Dean? Well, in truth, I may be capable of it. You'll have to read on and find out. And thanks for saying I'm an amazing writer.
Dean's breathing was becoming more and more ragged. Sam's eyes stung with tears, and he looked over at Haley with a pleading look in his eyes. "You can save him. You did it before. You brought me back." The look on his face was so hopeful, so innocent, it broke Haley's heart to shake her head slowly. The crest-fallen look on his face brought tears to her eyes.
"It doesn't work like that, Sam," she said. "I can't just turn it on and off. And even if I could, I had your mother's love back in Lawrence. That's what brought you back, not me. I was just the conduit. What do I have here to channel?" Sam looked at her.
"Haley, he's dying!" he said desperately. "You can help him. I know you can... Please," he begged. Haley looked at Sam, then Dean, then back to Sam. She could feel it, like she'd felt back at the house. Love, so much like his mother's love and yet different because they were brothers. Love had always seemed like one thing to Haley, but since she'd discovered her empathic abilities she'd found a whole rainbow of different types of love, and this was just another of them.
She took Dean's head in her hands, and felt for him as Sam did. A brother she could not lose, that she could not live without. She needed him to protect her, to be by her side, to do all the things she knew she couldn't. Sam stood back, wonder in his eyes.
Haley's eyes suddenly went wide, and her head snapped back. "No, please… stop," she whispered. "Not again… Please, no more." She began sobbing. She gasped, and Sam saw something, like a burn, slowly growing across the side of her neck. She gasped in pain, her body convulsing, trying to reject the pain it was pulling out of Dean. Just as she'd drained Sam of his anger that afternoon, she was now trying to drain Dean of his pain, of his injuries. And it was obviously more than Haley, with her abilities so limited, could handle. She wasn't just feeling the pain, the injuries. She was tapping into the memories of his emotions, like she had done back in the hospital at Stone Gates to destroy Heartsbane.
She let out another gasp, and Sam let himself feel the love for his brother like he had when he was younger, trying to remember the times when that brotherly love had been at its strongest to strengthen the love that Haley was channeling. When he was six, Dean had stayed up with him when he'd gotten a bad case of the cold and couldn't get to sleep. He'd stayed up almost all night to comfort Sam, even after Sam had gone to sleep, he was sure Dean had stayed awake, just in case Sam woke up again.
And when he was nine, when he'd been afraid of that thing in his closet. Dean had held him close and whispered words of comfort while he'd cried seemingly endless streams of tears. Even if that situation hadn't turned out as good as he would've liked, the feelings were there, and that was what Haley needed. In front of him, he saw Haley straining under the pressure of bringing Dean back to a state that could be called life. She wasn't just restoring breath to him like she had to Sam. She had to deal with the neck wound, the ropes burns, the near-hypothermia; large obstacles she had to guide Dean back around.
When he was eleven, and his Dad had gotten drunk after a close encounter with the demon that had seemed so much like the one that had taken his Mum, and yet had turned out not to be. Sam had made the mistake of being in the living room watching TV when his Dad had stumbled in late, and after a lot of shouting, had received a nasty bruise from a clumsy yet none the less strong punch from his Dad. He'd stumbled up the stairs to the bedroom he'd been sharing with Dean, who was (at that time still in school) doing his homework. Dean had helped Sam clean up the bruise, and then he'd let Sam sleep in his bed to keep away the nightmares that would surely come to the horrified eleven-year-old.
And what Dean had done for him when he'd seen that woman get torn apart by the demon? He'd given up a whole night's sleep to help his brother get over his fear of using the weapon he'd failed to use when it mattered. Sam felt a wave of gratitude well up inside him. Gratitude and love, because no matter how hard life seemed, no matter what the situation, he could always rely on Dean to be there for him. Because that was what big brothers did.
"And you're going to keep doing it," Haley and Sam said at the same time. Haley seemed a great deal calmer, which surprised Sam. He'd been feeling a lot over the past few minutes, and so far, every time Haley had been around emotions that intense, she'd become awfully stressed and irritable. And yet now…
"Sam…" Haley's voice was strained. "Get out… call the ambulance…" She wouldn't break her hold on Dean's head. "Got him… can't hold him…" she managed. There were tears running down her cheeks, and her body was starting to quiver and shake. Sam all but leapt out of the door, running and stumbling down the passage, pulling his mobile out of his pocket as he ran and hoping desperately that he wouldn't have to run all the way out to get service on the phone.
It would be so nice if he could just sleep. It beckoned to him, begged him to give in. He thought maybe he felt something, at the back of his throat. Nothing seemed to happen though, but he suddenly had the feeling of being a lot lighter. And he felt warmer.
And he felt scared. He didn't want to go back, though he could feel something calling to him just as strongly as the sleep was. Maybe more strongly. But he was still scared.
He suddenly felt warmth like he had never felt before. Like the sun's heat without the burn. It flared up inside him like an explosion, and shot through his body in a matter of seconds, pushing back the cold and the fear, leaving only the loving warmth. He felt as though someone was holding onto him.
"Be mine forever, Dean."
"No, Alvira." Dean turned in his state of disembodiment and the warmth and the light shattered. She was reaching out toward him, ready to take him once and for all.
"Dean," Alvira whispered. "Can you hear me? Dean?" It wasn't her voice. It wasn't even a woman's voice. Dean suddenly felt strange. He wasn't floating like he had been. He felt… different… held down…
"Dean, can you here me?" Dean opened his eyes a crack, not able to do much more than that. Who was making all that noise? Someone was standing over him. His body stiffened and he whimpered, memories of Alvira still fresh in his mind. He closed his eyes again, rolling onto his side so the person standing over him wasn't looking at his face.
His eyes snapped open again. He rolled over. Did that mean…?
"Dean, it's me, what's wrong?"
"Sammy?" Dean whispered, not willing to believe it was his brother. He rolled over onto his back again, staring up at his brother's worried gaze.
"Hey, Dean," Sam said, smiling sadly down at his brother. "How're you feeling?"
"Like I got plowed by an eighteen-wheeler," he said. "Don't tell me, I actually did?" he asked, remembering the story Sam had told the doctor last time.
"No, actually, this time, we're just as baffled by the cause of your injuries as the doctors are," Sam explained. "Haley and I left the hospital without signing ourselves out, drove aimlessly around at only fifty-percent health, and then found you unconscious in the mausoleum. Whoever had taken you from the hospital, and stabbed you in the neck with what the doctors are saying looks like a barbeque fork, was gone." He frowned. "They say they mustn't have done it to you at the mausoleum because there's no blood on the floor."
Haley came running into the room. "Get me away from them," she whispered, walking around to the far side of the bed, and sitting down. "Oh, hi, Dean, glad you're awake, hide me." She sighed, kneeling down on the other side of the bed.
Dean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and just listening to what the other two were saying.
"Whoa, whoa, what's the problem?" Sam said, sounding like he was suppressing a laugh.
"There's a new mother and father out in the waiting room and every time they come near me I want to hug someone," was Haley's answer. "Happiness, I can deal with. Love, I can deal with. Joy, I can deal with. But not when all three of them are mixed in together, they make me feel giddy, and light headed and I-" Dean's eyes snapped open as he felt someone press their lips against his. He panicked for a moment, but found his limbs were too exhausted to do anything.
His gratitude to his brother became eternal when Sam reached over and pulled Haley off of him.
"-do crazy things," Haley finished. "How did I-" She turned an accusing look at Sam. "You!" she said in an accusatory tone. "What right do you have to be joyous and happy and loving?" she demanded, as if the fact that Dean had just narrowly escaped death was not enough reason for Sam to feel that way. "You're killing me over here," she complained. Sam just laughed. Dean smiled, too tired to laugh. Haley laughed, though Dean had a feeling she found the situation anything but funny, and was only laughing because Sam was and she was feeling his amusement. "Oh, you think this is funny do you?" Haley asked. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around Sam's waist, her arms around his neck, and planted a passionate kiss on his lips.
He was obviously too much in shock by what she was doing to do anything more than steady himself after she nearly knocked him over (she'd had no choice – even on tiptoe, she wouldn't have been able to reach his lips). After nearly twenty seconds, she dropped back down onto the floor, wiped her lips, and turned away, leaving Sam with a dumbstruck, slightly confused look on his face. Dean's smile broadened.
"Now that was funny," he said. His voice was hoarse and it hurt his throat to speak, but he couldn't help himself. Sam blinked coming out of his state of shock and turning back to his brother.
"So, are you really okay?" he asked. "Do you feel any pain? I can get you some water if you like. Or the doctor, do you want me to get the doctor?" Dean gave an indignant grunt.
"Sam, I'm twenty-six. Twenty-six, not six. I don't need you mothering me," he said. Or tried to. His attempt at a witty remark was ruined by his raw throat. "I'll be…" He gave a small cough. "I'll be fine once I rest up." But in truth he felt like he'd been through hell and back.
"Okay, well, you just… you just rest then," Sam said, nodding. "And I'll… I'll be waiting right here if you need anything." Dean would never admit it, but it was reassuring to have his brother so close. He felt safe again, with his brother and his friend. He closed his eyes, and almost immediately fell into a peaceful sleep.
A/N: Yeah, I know, short chapter. I wanted to end it there because, one, I didn't know what else to write, and two, this is like a transitional chapter. Now, I'm going to take a break from writing (whether it's a week, a couple of days, or just a few hours, your guess is as good as mine). Keep up all those lovely reviews, and the break may just be postponed a few weeks.