Hey, I'm testing the waters with this, my first ever fan fic (Can I get a woop woop!) I've been here a while, lurking, observing and reading non stop, falling in love with our boys a little more each day. Anywho, let me know if it's worth giving another go at, editing or continuing. I must admit I do love the idea of Dean bursting in to the rescue. Ahhhh swoon.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything here except any mistakes someone may be unfortunate to come across.
Sam groaned uncomfortably as his alarm clock beeped on the table beside his bed. Early mornings never usually bothered him but today-two days since completing the second trial- he didn't feel ready for his usual 6am run. He'd gotten little sleep that night as it was, hacking coughs and ice pick headaches interrupting his slumber every time he was able to doze off. The aches and pains spreading up and down his long limbs though were the hardest to deal with and no amount of painkillers would keep them at bay.
It was clear to Sam by now that the second trial had hit him a lot harder than the first but it wasn't just the physical symptoms that Sam was starting to struggle with. His trip to hell had brought back many horrifying memories of his own time in lock up with the worst room mate imaginable. Sam clenched his eyes shut and buried his face into his pillow in a feeble attempt to block out the mental image of Lucifers true form as clear in his mind today as it had been during the years of torture he had endured at the creatures hands. Worse still was his time in purgatory which just highlighted the guilt and shame he felt for leaving Dean there. It had somehow been so much worse than he had imagined and the very thought of Dean constantly running and fighting for his life befriending the very things he loathed because Sam hadn't been there for him left Sam feeling like the worst person in the world. Perhaps he was.
Sam snoozed his alarm another three times before heaving himself up. He swayed a little when up on his feet and had to take a seat back on his bed for a moment while the dizziness passed. There was no way he was letting his brother see the strain he was under, especially after he had promised him that he'd be able to handle whatever the trials threw at him. He owed Dean big time and a part of leveling the playing field and getting their precious relationship back on track meant proving he was capable of doing the hard work when the occasion called for it.
After taking a few deep breaths Sam got up again, this time a little slower and headed to the bathroom to wash his face. He grimaced at his reflection that wouldn't fool anyone to his current state. Sam looked drained. His chestnut hair had grown long in recent months, the longest he had ever grown it in fact and he was quite fond of it but today it looked limp and dry, almost straw like. His face was pale and the dark circles under his hazel eyes grew larger by the day. Hopefully a short run and a coffee or two would help him look a little more…alive.
An hour later Sam arrived back at the bunker feeling slightly better mentally but progressively worse physically. His body was jittery and shaky and Sam wondered if he'd maybe pushed himself too far.
Sam smiled to himself as he entered the kitchen to Dean singing to some cheesy eighties love song and frying bacon contently. His brother, clad in his new men of letters robe and slippers, had his back to Sam who leaned against the door frame and hadn't even realized he was there, clearly too engrossed in swaying to the music from the old beat up radio in the corner. Deans voice wasn't all that bad but the comedic routine before Sam had him trying and failing to stifle a laugh. Dean jumped dramatically and his face tinged with embarrassment. "Jesus Sammy, since when have you been so light on your feet?!"
Sam, who was still chuckling couldn't help but rib Dean. "Since you became an eighties pop star clearly."
Deans eyes narrowed and Sam thought he heard Dean mutter "Shut up. I'm a rock star." before he hastily switched off the radio.
"Hey don't turn it off on my account Bon Jovi." Sam continued teasingly. Dean ignored him and carefully set to work building his quadruple bacon sandwich using a precision and focus usually only used on the supernatural battlefield.
"You want some bacon? There's some left." Dean asked gesturing to the large frying pan on the stove.
Sam wrinkled his nose. He had been trying not to smell the greasy meat but one such sniff and he felt sick to his stomach. "I'll pass thanks." he said with a polite nod. He settled for an iced water unsure he could even manage a coffee now and took gentle sips.
"How are you anyway? Dean asked casually between giant sized bites. He'd been watching Sam like a hawk since they'd been reunited and insisted on a few days downtime before searching for any new hunts or heroic expeditions.
Without missing a beat Sam replied. "I'm good, yeah, I mean a little tired I guess but I'll take that you know."
Dean frowned as he did his usual big brother visual inspection from his seat at the table. "Mmm." he sounded unconvinced but let it go for now much to Sams relief. "Well, I'll tell you one thing man, you stink. Go get a shower will you?"
Sam grinned and threw a nearby oven mitt at Dean who dodged it like a pro before doing as requested and heading to take a shower. He really did smell quite terrible.
Sam set the water to the hottest setting so it was almost scalding his skin and it only just began to take away the chills he'd gathered on his run. He let the water run over his body for some time, too tired to do much else. After some time Sam grabbed for his shampoo, a special expensive brand he had ordered online. He unscrewed the lid and inspected the contents for any kind of sabotage on Deans part. Dean loved to mess with Sams products, once going as far as to replace his shampoo for Nair resulting in bald patches just in time for a new start in middle school many year ago.
Once satisfied that there was contamination of any sort, Sam washed his hair and body and left the shower, quickly dressing into the clean boxer shorts, white t- shirt and navy joggers combo he'd brought with him into the bathroom. The cold was returning to his body and it wasn't pleasant so Sam planned on heading back to his room in search of a hoodie or a jacket that he could wear whilst doing some reading and research in the library.
Before Sam could reach the door, he was laden down an sudden and intense pressure in his chest, as if someone had dropped a truck on top of him and were pushing down on it. He clutched at his chest and made several painful coughs in an attempt to loosen or release whatever pressure build up was ailing him but found that once he started he couldn't stop. Sam staggered back slipping on the still wet floor until he was down on his ass, he couldn't care less about the fall though, fear was creeping in as he realized he could barely breathe and he was unable to move much at all.
Coming to a quick conclusion that he could no longer keep up his façade any longer, Sam called out to Dean. It came out in more of a rasp really and he knew his brother wouldn't be able to hear it, especially if he'd kept up his singing in Sams absence. Sam barked out several more coughs this time alongside fresh red blood that tasted brassy and metallic and dribbled down to his chindefiantly. "Dean!" he croaked again, he hoped this time more loudly. Sam leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes focusing deeply on taking in air. He was thankful that the coughing had subsided but the tightness in his chest was nowhere near to easing.
Sam was reminded of a grueling training exercise regime John had once set for the boys in their teens. It was supposed to teach the most effective way of taking in air and prolonging life in situations where they might find themselves trapped and struggling. It had been an unforgiving task and Sam hadn't spoken to his father for over a week afterwards for what he'd put them through. Sam tried to remember the advice and pointers John had given them but his brain was starting to get a little foggy. If sleep would aid the pain at all Sam was happy to welcome it.
