By: Oldach's Dream
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Challenge response: Missing Benders scene, when Sam rescues Dean. I'm pretty sure no one has done it quite like this yet.
A/N: Thanks, everyone, for the encouragement for the first chapter. Because of it, I've decided to make this a three-part story. Please keep the reviews on a comin'. They make me happy.
Anchor
Sam was in somewhat of a trance-like mode. The youngest Winchester couldn't - despite all his want and need - actually collapse onto the nearest pile of unearthed dirt and sleep for the rest of the night, lest he worry his brother. He lacked the energy to do more than stumble along side Dean, through the seemingly never-ending backcountry roads.
All of Sam's energy reserves had dwindled out of existence after only a few minutes of laughing and mock-arguing with Dean, now the two walked silently side by side, and the younger hunter felt that his near meditative state was the only thing holding him together at the moment.
One foot in front of the other. The repetitive pattern was simple enough to keep him calm and distracted. He managed to ignore the sharp jabbing pain that attacked him each time he was forced to veer out of the path of a given obstacle. As long as he could keep this up, though, as long as he didn't have to think or exert himself, he'd be fine.
Then, as if reading his mind - or, more likely, the tension surrounding them - Dean chose that moment to speak for the first time in what Sam thought perhaps might be literal hours.
"We're about halfway there," he commented into the nighttime silence. Sam forced himself to nod - and not cringe afterwards. "You okay?"
Sam knew logically that nothing ever really got past his big brother, and that unwavering protective instinct he had, so Sam simply shrugged and mumbled, "Headache."
He could see the gears in Dean's mind turning at the statement, the struggle he battled within himself; weather or not to push the subject, probe at the reasons behind it. But Sam had already successfully steered him away from one uncomfortable topic that night, and they would not be backtracking.
"How's your shoulder?" He asked instead. His head was still pounding, but he found talking an almost better method of distraction than the trance he'd let himself fall into before.
"It'll be fine," he assured, yet his left arm had not unfastened itself from his side yet.
"I'm sorry," he was saying before his brain could get any say in the matter. He felt Dean's confused look more than he saw it, and kept staring straight ahead. "That that happened." He clarified.
"It wasn't your fault." He sounded almost bewildered, as if not understanding his brother's guilt. Sam thought for sure it was a fake - or naive - sentiment. Anyone would be able to point out Sam's rightful guilt in this situation.
"Sammy," Dean's voice spoke again after a few moments silence.
"Huh?"
"What happened tonight, little brother?" He asked the question softly, almost gently, and Sam wasn't quite sure he understood.
"I got kidnapped by a bunch of psycho hillbillies and you saved my life." He paused for affect. "Again."
"Right, I was there for that part." He said slowly.
"Then what...?"
"What happened in the house? What were you gonna tell me?"
Sam's heart leapt as fear raced through him. Dean couldn't know about Sam's outburst. His brother wasn't okay with Sam's... abilities, no matter what the elder man said. Sam had seen the way he looked at him after they left Max's house. Had seen the uncertainty, the fear in his eyes, Dean didn't want to be an accomplice to his little brother's freak-hood.
"Nothing." Sam pressed. "I told you, never mind."
"Man," Dean exclaimed, laughing that angry laugh he reserved especially for Sam. "Why do you always do that?"
"Do what?" The younger brother made his voice sound perplexed, but Sam had a pretty good inkling of what his brother was pissed about.
"Clam up like that!" He half shouted, before calming slightly. "How do you expect me to fix anything if you won't tell me what's wrong?"
Sam actually snorted. "You can't fix everything, Dean." He exclaimed, closing his eyes as a dizzy spell hit hard.
"Not if you won't talk to me, I can't." He seemingly agreed with his brother's anger. "You've been quiet since we left the Bender's, Sammy. And I swear to God this whole situation will not be one of those things we don't talk about."
"We don't talk about anything, Dean." Sam's muddled mind was having a hard time accepting - or even rationalizing - Dean's insistence. "No chick flick moments, 'member?"
His big brother ignored the words entirely, plowing on with his concern, masked amazingly well as anger. "Did something happen in there that you're not telling me about?" Was all he said and the taller man froze. Literally, stopping in his tracks.
Sam knew his brother was referring the Bender's themselves, and something they might have done to hurt Sam physically. The truth was probably worse than whatever Dean was imagining right now, but Sam couldn't bring himself to answer the question. Couldn't even bring himself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Dean stopped as well, but Sam could scarcely make out his concerned gaze in the darkness of the night.
"Sammy?" He questioned, inching closer to him ever so slightly, as if worried about making any sudden movements. Sam didn't blame him. His behavior since they left the Bender farm had been rather sporadic. One minute he was laughing and joking with Dean, the next he wanted nothing more than to make it out of these woods and back to the motel. Perhaps sleep could erase away the events of the last few days.
Could dull Sam's vivid memories of the people who had tried so hard to kill him. Who wanted to play some sick, twisted game for their own morbid enjoyment. Maybe, just maybe, if Sam climbed into the passenger's seat of the Impala, Dean could drive them away from Sam's powers, the uselessness he felt. What good was it; he asked himself, to have these freak abilities, if he couldn't even save himself from the Benders - a simple and powerless human evil?
If he had any skill at all, if he wasn't so damn pathetic, he would have been able to channel his stupid telekinesis, and used it before the Bender clan had decided to torture his brother. Sam was the one with super-powers, but Deans still ended up saving his life on nearly ever hunt they ever went on. An now again from these...people. These mortal, human people, that had no tie to anything supernatural at all, had no clear cut advantage over the Winchesters. Sam had never felt more utterly and completely helpless in his entire life.
He felt a firm grip on his shoulder, and looked up, refocusing his dull eyes, to see his brother standing less than an inch away from him. "Hey, buddy." He said the words with relieved softness, and it was only
then that Sam's mind registered the fact that Dean had been trying, unsuccessfully, to gain his attention for several minutes now.
"Sammy?" He questioned again.
"Sam?"
"Come on, Sammy, stop it." He took a few steps closer.
"What's the matter with you, Sam?"
He came closer still. "Sam."
His voice was an order now. "Stop it. Stop zoning out."
His right hand reached out and clamped on Sam's shoulder. Hard. Another step. "Come on, little brother. You're scaring me."
And maybe that's what had done it, Sam thought. The thought of Dean being scared had always rattled Sam. Always somehow made it seem like the foundation of his entire world was collapsing in around him. Only this time, he was the cause of it.
"You back with me, little brother?"
"Yeah," Sam shook his head, and watched as the trees rocked back and forth in his vision. "Just tired. Let's go."
Dean stopped him before he got half a step. "What happened at the Bender's that you don't want to tell me about?"
"Nothing." Sam snapped almost immediately.
"Bull-" Dean countered back at once.
"It's nothing."
"-shit." He finished through his little brother's pathetic attempts at lying.
"Dean," his voice was pleading now, and had Sam been paying any attention, he would have seen the glimmer of fright pass through the elder's gaze. "Please. I'm tired. My head hurts, I... I just wanna go to sleep, okay?"
The younger hunter hated the way his voice cracked, making it seem like he was close to tears. In reality, the events of the past few hours had simply finally caught up with him, and maybe he was pleading with his brother. Maybe he did sound as pathetic and weak as he felt, and maybe some small part of him that still harbored an eight-year-old child did feel like crying, but he ignored that; Sam's only real thought now was getting out of these woods as fast as humanly possible.
Everything would be better once they were far away from this place.
"Okay," he heard his brother agree through a haze of other thoughts, he latched onto Dean's worried tone like a lifeline. "Let's get back to the motel, we'll talk about it tomorrow."
Sam felt relieved, honest to God relieved at Dean's compliance. Maybe they would talk about it come morning, maybe in the light of day, it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe once the sun was shinning and the Bender farm was less than a speck in their rear-view mirror, Sam wouldn't be so much of a freak.
"Thank you," he mumbled gratefully, as his brother squeezed his shoulder again, before letting go reluctantly, starting again on the path that would lead them away from the destruction of the night.
Sam had barely put one foot back on the path, when the world started to spin again, this time more noticeably than it had all night. "Dean?" He called out at once; frightened at his inability to control the tilting of the ground beneath his feet.
His brother turned around at once. "Sammy?"
Sam saw the word come out of his mouth, but he couldn't hear it. Couldn't hear anything other than the buzzing in his ears. Dean's frantic, frightened face was the last thing Sam saw before the world went black.
TBC...
I'd love to know your thoughts on this.
