Warning: Um, some same sex love implied, not between the brothers. And a little language, that's why the rating is what it is, just to be safe.
Disclaimer: Don't own Sam or Dean any of the WB characters. If I did… well I wouldn't be here, would I?
A/N: Okay, maybe I was spoiled with my first fiction to get that many replies… but I mean this is sad. And I KNOW that people have been looking at it because I saw how many hits it had. (I was pleased with the hits, but very disappointed with the no reviews) and I want to dedicate this to KatieMalfoy19 and supernaturalfan0718 for putting me on the alert list, at least you guys did that much.
I hate to be a slave driver here, but if you like the story and want me to continue, please tell me. I love writing, but I want to know someone is reading! I'm totally fine with a "hey, nice post" or something along those lines. So please please please, if you read, review.
THANKS! ENJOY!
Chapter two; Pull Me From Oblivion
He wasn't so sure why he hadn't expected it. He'd dreamt it almost every night for a month. The blood on his forehead… even the treat she'd left for him before he laid down. It was all there, mapped out like some sick joke. But of course, no one is ready for the second your life is thrown into a black hole and then yanked back out again. Like a yo-yo. Sam had been yo-yoing in and out of oblivion since the day Mary Winchester was cremated overhead.
Dean seemed to be the one always pulling the string.
Sam was grateful for his brother. He was grateful he carried him from that house twenty-two years ago. He was grateful that he didn't rub the asylum incident in his nose… well, at least not vocally. But he wasn't grateful for everything. He hated that Dean had pulled him away from Jess. Sam was responsible for what had happened. He deserved to burn away with her.
Dean was always a good yo-yoer. He had stumbled upon the skill during a hunt when he was twelve. The lady at the motel had a daughter, she was eleven if Sam could remember correctly. She had a purple yo-yo. And she was terrible at it. Dean, being the Casanova in training offered to show her "how it was really done". Of course he made a fool out of himself, but somehow he ended up kissing her behind the dumpster anyway. Sam never did understand his older brother's charm.
But the man sure could yo-yo.
Sometimes Sam wished he could just cut the string and fall into the black hole. At least then the pain would stop. Ever since Jessica's death the pain had been worse. The constant ache behind his skull, it was always there. It had become his friend, in actuality, something he could talk to. "Hello Pain, we killed destroyed a racist monster truck today." Or "How are you Pain? Thinking about taking any vacations soon." Unlike Dean, Pain listened and never talked back.
But Sam would certainly dive into oblivion and leave Pain behind if he had the chance.
He just knew Dean would yank him back. Kicking and screaming, Dean would yank him back. He'd probably kick his ass too for being so flipping stupid. And someday Sam would find a way to thank his older brother for keeping that thin string so taunt.
"Shoot." Dean groaned. Sam flipped down the lid of his laptop to look at his older brother. He was staring down at his gray tee-shirt, apparently he'd dropped a spot of ketchup on it. Dean looked at his brother and grabbed the napkin Sam had been saving incase he had a similar accident. "You find anything good?" Dean asked while wiping away the spot, trying not to smear it more. Sam sighed, shaking his head.
"No, not really." He admitted. He read off a few possibilities. "Some chickens were stolen from a local barn… but they figured it was coyotes." He looked at Dean. "Could be something."
"Yeah, coyotes. Come on Sammy, I know you're new and all but are you really that blind to the paranormal?" Dean asked with a wide grin.
"Shut up, and it's Sammy." Sam corrected. Dean rolled his eyes. "Eat your burger and stop being so condescending." Sam smirked. 'Chew on that one.' He thought to himself. He scrolled down the current events list on Hey, it'd been reliable before. Dean grumbled something and sipped his cola.
"Condescending my ass." Dean whispered. "You know Sam…" Sam held up his hand, his eyebrows furrowed deep in thought.
"Wait, listen to this." He clicked on the link. "Tuesday, in Storm Lake Iowa, a woman, who her friend claims was possessed, killed another student at Buena Vista College. The cops were forced to shoot and kill her when she refused to comply with their orders." Sam looked at his brother and raised his eyebrows thoughtfully.
"What murderers aren't possessed, Sam?" Dean asked. "Ted Bundy was possessed, just not the possessed we deal with." He sighed and bit into his burger.
"Well, it's this… or the chickens." Sam said with a grin. Dean stared at him for a moment. He set the burger down and spoke, not quite done chewing.
"Get the freaking map, we're going to Iowa." Dean grumbled.
A/N: Now what do you do? Press that purple button! That's right. You review, I post. It's a nice cycle.
