All of his life, Sam had been normal, so normal that some of his friends had called him a freak, because he was so bland, so vanilla, so---so, ordinary. Today, however, he was up to his hip in some goo that was secreted by whatever this thing was they were hunting. He couldn't remember the name, Dean had done the research on this one, because he was still reeling from the massive headache that the last vision had given him.
Visions that was another big upset in his normal persona, one minute he could be walking around like a normal functioning human being and then BAM! People suffering and dying clouded his mind and his head pounded and pounded from the trauma. They had, of course, followed the vision, tried to save the people that were under threat, and this time, they had ALMOST saved them. But almost didn't help the family members who were left behind, the people Sam saw from a distance, as they headed out of town, sobbing at a funeral. And because he hadn't rested, like Dean ordered, his head was still foggy and this was a week later. What worried him was that another vision was just over the horizon and that was the real reason he was foggy. Dean, on the other hand, was convinced it was because he had had three visions within a matter of days and refused to take it easy.
Sam wondered if he was right as he was cutting up this large gooy thing that he didn't know the name of. Dean was on the other end of it, covered in the same slop cutting up the creature as well. Apparently it needed to be dismembered, and then salted and burned in order for it to be completely dead. In the three hours they had been slicing and hacking at this thing, it resuscitated long enough for Dean to pull his gun out of the waist band of his jeans and pump it full of silver bullets again. The sound of the gun going off ricocheted through his head, like a pin ball machine on crack.
"You okay?" Dean asked when he saw Sam's hand go to his head, never mind the slime that was covering it and now that was smearing on his forehead.
"Huh?"
"You okay?" Dean repeated slowing his work.
"Oh, yeah, I think I'm good."
"You getting another vision?"
"No. My head is still foggy from the last one." Dean sighed. No one had ever prepared him for this. Sure. Having a brother he got. He could figure out exactly how to hunt, he could understand the ins and outs of the lifestyle, but visions, death vision no less, he didn't understand, and what he didn't understand more than the visions, was why exactly his brother was singled out to receive them. What good was it doing? It wasn't like they were actually SAVING any of the people in his visions. The last one, they almost did, but Dean was starting to wonder if these visions were playing with them, like they knew they couldn't get there in time, and it would hurt them worse to know about these people dying via supernatural means, and not have enough time to get there and save them. It was most certainly taking a toll on him, but by the ashen color of Sam's skin and the tiredness in his eyes, Dean was fairly certain it was worse on him.
"After this, we need to go back to Bobby's—"
"And do what Dean?"
"You need to rest."
"I don't want to crawl back to Bobby after every single little headache. I'm fine." Sam hacked away at this monster a little more.
"Woah wait. We agreed when we started out this time, that if the fire got to hot we would go back to Bobby's."
"I just don't want to. I want to stay out in the field. I want to find whatever in the world is making me have these visions, I want to…"
"Want to what?" Dean probed. The monster tried to take another breath of life, Sam pulled his gun out and shot it, it stilled.
"I really just don't know Dean. I'm…"
"You have to be tired." He said and pulled a hunk out of the monster and threw it into the dismembered pile.
Sam nodded and threw a piece into the pile as well. "I am."
"I told you that you should have rested after our last hunt."
"Yeah, and miss all of this fun? Seriously Dean, people were dying here. We were able to save them this time. Evil doesn't stop just because my head is foggy."
Dean sighed and ripped a piece of the monster off and threw it violently across the room. "Damnit Sam. You can't go into hunts "foggy"." Dean said using the quoty fingers and all. He went back to chipping away at the monster. "I cant' have you guarding my back and foggy at the same time."
"Well excuse me for wanting to save people."
"Sam." Dean said exasperated. "I'm your…" he stopped. He shook his head and went back to cutting.
"You're what?"
"Never mind. This argument goes nowhere every single time."
"That's right! That's because you aren't listening to me."
"I listen and I listen and you never say anything different. Sam. This crap has to freak you out." The monster began to stir again and without missing a beat, Dean pumped it full of silver again.
"It does freak me out, but what good is it going to do for me to go back to Bobby's and lick my wounds. I'm fine."
"No you aren't."
"Quit telling me how I feel, Dean." he said and managed to rip the thing's stomach in half. The stench made both men cringe and put their forearms over their noses.
"I'm not telling you squat." He said and continued to hack away. It tried to rise again and Sam pulled his gun and again put holes into it. "I just don't want you to keep moving when you are injured. I don't want this vision thing to whip your ass."
"I'm not going to let it."
"Fine. But I know this is bothering you and it…."
"If you tell me one more time that it's not my fault that these people die, I'm going to throw this knife at you, and I know how to aim for the heart now." Sam warned, eyes fierce. Both men stood and starred at each other. Then the monster moved. Both pulled their guns out and shot the thing.
"Good God. Just stay dead!" Dean said and put his gun up. He looked at Sam. "I'm still new to this whole being a brother thing…but I'm fairly certain that looking out for my younger sibling is what I am supposed to do….and I really don't like that you push yourself to this limit, I don't like it that you go into this hurt. You could get us hurt."
"I don't like that you go and drown yourself in alcohol but you do it."
"Hey, I don't go into a hunt drunk." He said pointedly using the knife for emphasis.
"No. But you go in cloudy, from a hangover. You can't tell me that that is any better or worse then what I am doing."
"Sam…."
"Dean…"
"Whatever."
"Whatever."
Sam sighed and looked down at the mutilated corpse. "I guess we should salt and burn it?" he asked.
"Yeah." And they did just that. They stayed until the thing was dust, gathered their supplies, and headed out to the car, silently.
Dean didn't go out that night, or indulge in their beer stash, and Sam went to bed early and Dean followed. "I'm new to this brother thing too." Sam said from the darkness. I'm not used to being looked after."
"Well get used to it." He sighed. "I'm afraid the gene is there and I don't know how to stop it."
"Yeah, well, you know, I don't know if the older sibling gene incudes keeping their traps shut about their own feelings, but if it does, then I'm fairly certain it is my job to make you talk. You can't just go get drunk." The quiet enveloped them, and when Dean's voice came out of the dark it startled both men and seemed to hover above the beds.
"But the last ones were kids."
"I know man. I know."