Chapter 5
Shaking hands reached frantically for the angular edge of the porcelain sink, the old fixture groaning as the young man rested his full weight onto it. His burning chest seemed to constrict tighter and tighter with each thudding beat of his heart, and Sam's back arched in attempt to regulate the ragged breaths that were trying to get through the vice. The panicked, quick gasps echoed throughout the tile chamber, and the shallow movements tortured his aching lungs. Dark spots started their ominous dance within his vision causing his mind to scream and beg his body to regain control.
The process of struggling to take in a deep breath and release it slowly was repeated until the young man could feel the tension in his chest reside and his rapid heartbeat regress back into a normal rhythm. Content he'd reached the closest thing to a normal state he could possibly manage at the moment, Sam cautiously pushed himself from the sink, but his knees buckled under the weight shift and he latched unto the cool porcelain once more to steady himself. He regained his balance, and stretched out a hand, bracing it against the wall. Shifting his body against the painted sheet rock, Sam started his trek back into the room.
The puke green carpet scratched his bare feet as he silently sought out a clean shirt and bit his tongue to stifle a moan when he fought to put it on. Once the small and painful feat was completed, he turned his attention to the coffee table that held his laptop and the rest of his research. The table happened to be on the completely other side of the cramped room, and on more than one occasion Sam's naked feet connected with products of his older brother's extreme case of disorganization.
Sam sunk down into the nearest chair, his feet throbbing as he reached his long arms across the table and pulled the laptop and his father's journal in towards him. He flipped through the tattered book, and retrieved his jotted notes from his small interview with Sarah. The inked words blurred before his eyes, appearing nothing more than jumbled incoherent phrases. He set the paper down gingerly, and reclined back into his seat, absently rubbing the raw skin that had adhered to his cotton tee. Folding his arms over his stomach, he set his eyes on the curled up form entangled in a mess of bed sheets, the sound of the soft snores filling his ears.
The younger gritted his teeth taking in the sight. Dean had seemed more his normal sarcastic self, but still appeared to be losing the exhaustion battle. He'd looked so tired when they had gotten back, tired enough, in Sam's opinion, to not move a single muscle during his entire REM cycle. But from the look of things, Dean had tossed and turned the entire time, and his body continued shifting every few minutes.
A thought occurred to Sam that maybe he should wake Dean up and check on him. He'd always thought Dean a still sleeper, at least his waking demeanor suggested he would be. Sam couldn't think of many things that scared his older brother to the point of restless sleep. Sam huffed when he realized for the thousandth time that one, and only one thing terrified his brother. It was the knowledge of that one thing that Sam used to convince himself that since he'd been no doubt "chosen" in secret, the situation would remain just that.
Their roles had been reversed for the past couple of weeks and Sam had willingly accepted the responsibility of taking care of Dean, whether the elder wanted him to or not. Sam found himself relishing in the challenge to some degree. To him, it was his penance, his payment, for all his older brother had sacrificed and risked to keep him safe. The younger felt shameful even considering burdening Dean further by adding his new "I'm marked" problem to the mix. He was supposed to play protector now, and he was damn sure that Dean wouldn't balk under the pressure, but simply accept the situation and move from there instead of dumping it onto him.
While that was part of his reasoning, a huge chunk of it revolved around how badly Sam never wanted to see that glimmer of guilt and fear flitter through Dean's eyes. That crushed look that dominated his features when the elder resolved that he'd failed his younger brother in someway, regardless of if the situation was within his control or not. Sam determined he'd seen that look enough in the past few months and there was no way in hell he was going to put it on Dean's face again.
Not only that, but telling his brother would put Dean into a whole new realm of torment as he tried recklessly and faithfully triedto stop the mark from claiming his little brother even though he swore himself a realist and an acceptor of whatever fate threw his way. He'd react just as Sam had done back in Nebraska. The memories from that three day search were still ingrained in Sam's mind, the feeling of hopelessness and sheer terror that ravaged him at the thought of watching someone he loved slowly fade away. He couldn't do that to Dean.
Sam didn't want to die at twenty-three, no more than Dean had wanted to at twenty-seven. But the fact remained he was marked by someone, or something, that he didn't have control over. Their leads were miniscule to say the least and the small amount they did have proved almost completely worthless. The outlook was dim, but he wasn't going to just give up.
The computer whirred as the machine started up. Sam sat up straight and went to work. His fingers flying over the keys as he sought for answers to the riddle that plagued him. He needed a solution, a loophole, a timeline even. He had no idea how long before the sacrifice took place and no clue as to how to stop the whole thing from taking him. He wanted something, anything to offer just a slight notion that he could defeat the inevitable future.
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Dean groaned a few choice phrases and reached for the extra pillow, placing the lumpy object over his head to block out the rays of bright morning sun, not to mention the incessant clicking coming for the far corner of the room. He scrunched his eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to dip back into the realm of unconsciousness. After only a few minutes, the man was convinced that the morning events were some kind of sick conspiracy because with each passing second the streams of light intensified, and the continuous tapping seemed to resound louder, drumming in his ears.
"Could you stop?" the elder grumbled hoarsely, wiggling his head out from underneath the pillow and propping his upper half up on his elbows. A mumbled apology met his ears, followed by the sound of crinkling pages, and he grimaced at the sound before flopping back down onto the hard mattress.
He shot a glance over to the alarm clock and sighed heavily. 7:30. Only his dorky little brother would find research fascinating at this hour. Dean let his eyes drift shut and welcomed the darkness. But it was too late. The rest of his aching body had already started waking up, save for the prickly sensation that ran it's course up and down his foot. At least one part of him was getting adequate rest.
Dean exhaled deeply and then started working on getting into a seated position on the bed, relaxing his head against the coarse wooden board that posed as a headboard. Quietly, he watched Sam avidly pouring over the journal like it was the first time he'd ever read the thing. The elder didn't fail to notice that his little brother feature's appeared to be sunk in, his eyes rimmed black.
He wiped a hand over his face in frustration. Something had happened, apparently a big something, and for the second time this week, he'd slept through it. Dean hated the fact that his body was too tired to even react or offer solace of any kind throughout his brother's tumultuous nights. The haggard appearance of the younger screamed "Nightmare—I'm never sleeping again", but Dean could sense the urgency in the way Sam kept flicking the pages over and scanning them.
Dean dropped his head, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He swayed slightly when he rose, but his equilibrium evened out shortly and he started the long shuffle to the bathroom. He threw a look back to his little brother, although Sam didn't even glance his way in return, before shutting the door behind him.
A quick steaming shower was all Dean needed to feel human again and more on the alive side of the spectrum. After putting on fresh clothes and shaking the excess water from his hair, he sauntered back into the room. A frown clouded his features immediately when he caught sight of Sam, brow furrowed, staring blankly at the opposite wall.
"Okay, spill" the elder commanded, settling down into the other wooden chair.
"What?" Sam muttered, breaking away from his thoughts, "Oh. It's nothing—just—this whole case if bugging the hell out of me."
"Yeah, I know what you mean." Dean agreed, feeling a huge weight lift off his shoulders because Sam was merely frustrated not terrified.
"Do you have any idea how many symbols have a T like structure in them?" Sam questioned, irritation clearly evident.
"Nope, but I bet your gonna tell me." Dean quipped lightly.
"Hundreds." Sam's eyes widened at the revelation and Dean could tell by the look on his face, he'd probably viewed at least two-thirds of them, if not all "None of which look like the one in thechurch."
"Well, that picture thing had a lot of stuff going on in it. Maybe it looks different standing alone, you know?" Dean suggested, turning the laptop to face him and viewing the search results.
"Maybe." Sam mumbled, his attention shifting back to the journal for any clue he could find.
"Hey, does Sarah work today?" The question seemed innocent enough, if it was coming from anyone but Dean and he knew it.
"Why would you want to know that? And if it's for the reason I think you want to know that, I hope for her sake she is not." Sam replied, an all-knowing tone in his voice.
"You have a dirty mind, college boy." Dean smirked, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back into the chair.
"This from the man who could make Hugh Hefner blush." Sam retorted, a small smile creeping onto his sullen face. Something Dean was more than happy to see.
"What's so wrong with that? And I don't see what your problem with bunnies is, Sam, because from everything I've se-, uh, heard described them as extremely playful and very, very nice." Dean laughed, winking, and nudging his little brother in the arm.
"You're hopeless." Sam stated, getting up and starting the process of finding a pair of clean pants.
"Not like I deny it." Dean replied quickly "And for your information I wanted to know because she could give us some info on that one kid's family. Like their address or something."
"Kasey. His name was Kasey." Sam offered smugly
"Sure, whatever. But I bet his parents can give us more info on that symbol you're so fond of."
"Ugh. I can't believe I didn't think of that." Sam smacked his forehead, and sunk down on the bed, shaking his head at his oversight.
"Oh, don't worry, geekboy. My I.Q. is only 30 points higher than your's."
"You wish." Sam shot back, gathering the rest of his things before heading off to the bathroom.
"It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to be jealous. Just because I'm older, wiser, and way better looking does not make you any less special, no matter what all those other people say." Dean feigned sincerity as best he could, until the sound of his brother's laugh radiated through the room and he was forced to release one as well.
"Are you kidding me? Dude, you need help." Sam managed to get the words out between bouts of laughter before ducking his head back behind the door frame.
"Maybe so, either way you have less than 20 minutes before I leave your ass here." Dean threatened jokingly, offering one last jibe as his brother went to close the bathroom door, "Make sure you use soap this time, ok? It took forever to get the smell out of my baby last time."
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okay so there you have it. Not the most action filled...but more thought process. Anyways, lemme know what you think and i will try to get another update done by the end of the weekend...however, we shall see...thanx for reading and reviewing
