AN: More introspection. Maybe I've been listening to too much Springsteen lately. Just kidding! There's no such thing as too much Springsteen.
There's some action here too.
* * *
We took the highway till the road went black
We marked Truth or Consequences on our map
Last to Die by Bruce Springsteen
* * *
Sam knew Dean was worried about him. Actually, Dean probably never completely stopped worrying about Sam, but since...Stanford, Dean was more worried than his normal.
There was some justification, honestly. It hadn't been a banner few months for Sam. But he hardly ever cried in the shower any more, and he almost never forgot that Jess was gone when he first woke up in the morning. The nightmares were...well, not really going away so much as cooling a bit. Sometimes he even knew it was a nightmare when he was in the middle of it.
But he was coping. There were no more days that he couldn't seem to draw a full breath and gravity pulled him extra hard and he couldn't get out of bed.
The sense of purpose, of doing something important and good that even academics hadn't been able to replicate, helped. Dean helped a whole lot more.
Sometimes the help came in the form of a literal shoulder. Dean hadn't mocked Sam once for the helpless tears of those first days, or the sudden paroxysms of grief that struck without warning. More than once, he'd subtly hustled Sam out of view of other eyes when sorrow had poleaxed him in public.
Often, Dean's support came in the form of seeking out food that would tempt Sam, like going 200 miles out of their way to pick up beignets that even Sam admitted were worth the trip. Or stopping at a diner that advertised the freshest sweet corn, or picking up apples at a roadside stand in the middle of nowhere.
Sometimes, it involved pranks like peanut butter in Sam's shoes or popcorn in his bed. Sometimes it meant Sam woke up to find a hand on his ankle or Dean sleeping sitting up on Sam's bed, leaning against the headboard. He'd always been good at chasing away nightmares. It hadn't escaped Sam's notice that Dean now always came back before dawn, even when he'd made a hook up.
And Dean had an excellent sense of when intervention was needed and what would work best.
Sam had take an intro psych course, and they'd spent quite a bit of time talking about primary motivations. Sam had immediately recognized Dean in the description of fixer. He was also a protector and a nourisher (and imagining Dean's face if Sam ever told him that latter had made Sam laugh so hard his roommate had looked at him weird). But scratch the surface of Dean and you'd find him always seeking to fix.
Something supernatural eating your neighbors? Air conditioner making a funny noise? Just plain feeling lonesome? Dean Winchester would find a solution, and pull it off with apparently careless aplomb and a devilish grin. He was pragmatic. He was perfectly aware that not all problems were fixable. But when it came to Sam, Dean never stopped trying.
God, Sam loved him for it.
Sam had bucked against Dean's protectiveness when they'd first gone looking for Dad. It had lasted all of an hour. Even before the Stanford dream had gone up in smoke, Sam had found that he craved his big brother. He'd missed him desperately, every day they'd been apart, and sliding back into the role of little brother was at once incredibly comfortable and awkward.
They weren't the same people they had been, and Sam didn't want Dean to have to always stand between him and danger any more, because he wanted Dean at his side instead. He wanted Dean to recognize his own worth. And frankly, Sam knew he didn't deserve the consideration Dean gave him.
Not that Dean was likely to learn either of those things, but he wasn't the only stubborn one.
Yeah, Sam was tired, bordering on exhausted, but he was able to Hunt. And he wasn't about to cry off when people (including a kid) were in danger, any more than Dad or Dean would have. Same gene pool, after all. And he'd absorbed some of Dad's lessons.
He'd actually been surprised when Dean suggested waiting. But that didn't mean he didn't pay attention to it. He was still in awe of Dean's skill at Hunting. It wasn't just a childish my big brother's awesome any more, but a clear-eyed recognition of Dean's abilities, focus, and intelligence. And okay, still a little of the my big brother's awesome. I mean, he kind of was, not that Sam would say that in so many words.
Anybody who thought Dean wasn't brilliant had never seen him assess a situation and adjust his plan in a heartbeat. Or peg a lying witness in one glance. Or diagnose an engine issue Sam couldn't even hear. Or identify a pattern.
Heck, Dean had been the one to find the pattern on this hunt. They'd painstakingly noted the locations of disappearances and bodies found on a map, without seeing any rhyme or reason. Dean had gone out for "brain food" and come back waving a tourism brochure.
The town of Green Bluff, South Dakota didn't have a lot to recommend it to tourists, so they'd chosen to focus on a geological anomaly. A narrow band of titaniferous magnetite ran on a circuitous route beneath the town and neighboring national forest. Dean had seen a map showing its route while waiting for their meatloaf sandwiches to be packed up and his quicksilver mind had recognized that the anfractuous shape touched all of the points they'd penned on their own map.
Sure enough, every disappearance and every body found was along the buried metal river, even those going back many years. Add that to the fact that cell phones didn't work around the vein for no reason science could explain, and it was clear that Dean was spot on.
"Nothing about the magnet stuff could kill people, right?" Dean had confirmed, and Sam had felt a little swell of pride that Dean still trusted him to answer important questions like that.
"No. It's not toxic and doesn't emit gas or anything. And we're around far more powerful magnets all the time without any problems." Sam was certain.
Together, they'd theorized about ley lines and places of power and mystical convergence and the latent power in certain elements (like salt). Ideas flowed back and forth effortlessly as they followed each other's thoughts and. brainstormed and it was interesting enough that for just a little while, Sam forgot the weight he carried.
And while they didn't know what was killing people near the magnetite, they knew it kept people for anywhere from three to five days before dumping their bodies -- dead of a heart attack -- at another spot on the line. And whatever it was had an eleven year old girl.
So here they were.
Sam covered a yawn, saw Dean note it. Maybe the concern in his eyes should have felt stifling, but instead Sam was grateful, if a little fondly exasperated. He was going to roll his eyes, then he thought again of all the ways Dean had found to take care of him. The exasperation softened further to affection. Sam sped up his steps until his sleeve brushed Dean's. Dean had taught Sam this language; he'd get the message.
Dean cocked an eyebrow that said he knew exactly what Sam was doing. Then he froze. Sam followed suit, noting a bare second later what had alerted Dean; the latent bird and insect sounds were gone.
Dean put his back to one tree, and Sam did the same thing to a pine maybe 15 feet away, facing Dean so between them they could see 360 degrees. For a few minutes, there was nothing to see or hear. Then there was an undulating, gurgling sound. It wasn't particularly loud or high pitched, but there was a wrongness to it that made it grate.
There was no way it was a natural sound. Its otherness was palpable, making Sam's skin twitch like something was scratching it.
There was a flicker of movement to Sam's right and he recoiled even as he fired, a split second after Dean did. The thing was black the way the ocean is wet, and vaguely humanoid, but its surface shifted nauseatingly. Looking at it straight on was like looking at an out of focus picture and Sam's eyes kept trying to slide off to the side.
It didn't stop him from unloading his Taurus into it, Dean doing the same with his Colt. Between the two of them, they had every kind of treated or special bullet they knew about: holy water, sage and comfrey, silver, iron, etc.
All the shots knocked it back, and it was now lightly smoking. But as soon as the firing stopped, it was moved forward again gurgling that sickly sound.
In response, the ground beneath Sam's feet began to writhe like a pile of earthworms. It was an apt description, because at least a few hundred skinny roots poked up and began to tug at Sam's pants and feet. He immediately adjusted the shotgun he'd been pulling up to shoot at the monster and aimed at the ground instead.
The blast blew apart a bunch of the roots. but they kept coming and Sam found himself busy lifting his feet over and over to break away from the fortunately small roots. The tree creaked and groaned behind him.
"Sam, get away from the tree," came Dean's order, pointed but calm.
Dean threw his knife at the monster (oneiroi, Sam's mind supplied, though there was no corresponding information to go with that one word), but it simply bounced off.
Sam stumbled forward obediently, and saw why Dean hadn't moved from his position, even as he coolly unloaded his own shotgun at the rippling oneiroi. An oak root as thick as Sam's wrist was wound around Dean's right ankle and by the tightness around his eyes, it was hurting him.
The oneiroi fell back a few feet from getting a shotgun blast to the chest, and the roots stilled. Sam thought he understood.
"Keep it off the vein," he gasped as he landed on his knees in front of Dean. He handed up his reloaded shotgun as Dean's clicked empty.
"Sam," warned Dean as Sam starting using his boot knife to hack at the root holding his brother in place. Sam ignored him as Dean fired, reloaded, and fired again over Sam's head. The pine creaked again ominously and the bigger roots began to pull out of the ground. It looked like nothing more than a giant spider lifting its legs into the air one at a time.
Sam hacked harder, vaguely noting Dean switching back to his handgun. There was an angry gurgle / shriek, and suddenly the root around Dean's leg relaxed. Sam could feel that the oneiroi was gone, but the wood groans behind Sam were growing louder.
"Sam! Get out of the way! The tree is coming down!" Dean ordered.
He was right. With a long, loud creak the pine tree tilted toward them, getting caught up in the branches of its neighbors but still tipping inexorably their way, its massive weight snapping branches as it picked up speed.
"SAM!"
Sam dodged Dean's hands by ducking lower to take one last hack at the root pinning Dean in place, finally breaking it. Dean grabbed two handfuls of Sam's jacket, not to be denied again, and the last great branch holding up the falling pine snapped.
The movies had this one detail right: time slowed down sometimes.
Sam watched everything happen with perfect clarity.
Twigs and bits of bark raining around him, Dean pulled Sam to his feet and shoved him backwards with both hands and Sam pushed off with his feet to help. A split second later, Dean threw himself backwards. The trunk picked up yet more speed but Sam felt only relief as he stared across the space at Dean. The tree was falling at a slight angle toward Sam, so Dean's jump was enough to get him out of the way. And thanks to Dean's well-timed shove, Sam was going to be in the clear too. The tree would land harmlessly between them.
That's almost what happened.
Somewhere way toward the top of the pine, it abruptly deflected off one of the other ancient old guard denizens of the forest. The falling trunk lurched to the side. Sam's side.
As he fell to his back and the gigantic trunk lurched after him, Sam had two thoughts.
At least it won't hit Dean.
And aw, shit.
* * *
AN: I have no idea if there are titaniferous magnetite deposits, supernatural or otherwise, in South Dakota. Why titaniferous magnetite specifically? Cuz it sounds cool.
I made up Green Bluff.
Jenjoremy: I'm glad (relieved!) that you don't mind the introspection, especially since I gave Sam some too. Thanks for sending the bunny my way! It shouldn't take long now to get into the meat of the idea.
writingtrainingwheels: Oh, thank you! I'm so glad you said what you did about the puppy dog eyes because that's exactly what I didn't want -- to have Sam seem childish or manipulative. I appreciate it!
Christine: Glad you don't mind getting inundated!
Timelady66: Aaaaaah! I'm freaking out! Ha, just kidding. I get what you're saying and take it as a huge compliment! You are absolutely right that we as a society have forgotten the there can be true love and connection without a sexual component. It has bothered me about TV shows for years, and in movies and even books too. I love the relationship of the brothers, so hearing that you like the way I portray it makes me very happy!
JaniceC678: It's a very good, intriguing idea! It certainly caught my attention, and I hope the story does it justice. As for the turtle, we'll be releasing her back into the pond in a few days, because she'll be much happier there, but for now we're spoiling her with lots of carrots and lettuce. The cats don't have the slightest clue what to think of her! It's funny.
stedan: Great minds think alike...I put a bunch of Sam's thoughts in this chapter. Not exactly the same stuff Dean was thinking about, but close. I know what you mean about feeling a little emotional about the early season stuff. *sniff, sniff*
bagelcat1: Yay! So happy you liked the introspection! Sam got his share here, too. But I did get some action in too. I'm glad you're on board. :-) The turtle isn't a permanent resident, but we'll be sad to see her go after the weekend. She's so delightfully grumpy I wanted to call her Dr. Hess!
MaddyWinchester2000: I love a worried Dean too! I got all mushy even writing about the ways Dean took care of Sam. And I adore what you said about Sam's giant, complicated self. :-) I know the show has limited time to deal with things like grief and Sam and Dean's response to it, so I like to explore it a little more. Thanks for your comment!
muffinroo: Okay, that made me laugh! We decided that Wilhelmina will be happier goinpg back home to the pond after a few days, so we've made it our goal to fatten her up in the meanwhile. So happy to have you reading!
supernaturalsammy67: Aw, thanks! I love the boys and their relationship so much. Even when I don't mean to, I end up focusing on it.
Lena: Hello! No worries about so-called falling behind. You know I love to hear from you whenever it happens. The years of silence between the boys kills me too. I've read some good takes on it, but it still seems so unlikely. Your connection to the name Wilhelmina makes me happy! It was my great grandma's name, though she went by Minnie once they came to the U.S. She inspired the turtle's name.
BruisedBloodyBroken: She is very spoiled! The kids are advocating to keep her, but we'll release her after the weekend. Although honestly, I expect them to leave her veggies down by the pond after we release her too.