Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, I just wish I do!
My first Wee!chester fic, Sam is six, Dean is ten.
The first thing Dean became aware of was an unbearable agony pulsing through his head. The next thing was that he was freezing and soaking. He opened his eyes a little. For a moment, he thought that the black dots were still blocking his vision. Then he realized that he was staring at the ground, and that it was dark. He turned his head a little, and froze as pain screamed through him, and tears pooled in his eyes.
"D-Dad?" he whimpered.
No reply. He put out an arm and managed to roll himself onto his side. The word spun sickeningly around him, and nausea rose in the back of his throat. He choked and swallowed it down instinctively, and it whirled up inside him abruptly. His stomach heaved and he retched, the world trembling around him as his head seared with pain. Darkness swirled in on him, and when the world cam back he was lying on his back looking up at the sky. He could feel something sharp pressing into the back of his head, but his body was so heavy that he couldn't move it. He slid his eyes to the side and took in shards of glass nearby. The wine bottle? He whimpered and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was looking up at the stars above him.
I don't want to die...
He felt tears spilling over his eyes and he sniffed, trying to push away the tears.
Oh god, I'm scared Dad, help me Dad...
His Dad wasn't there, and he knew it. By the time his Dad got home, it would be too late. And Sammy was home alone... how long had he been out? Was Sam okay? Dean tried to lift his head again, but agony seared through him and he was forced to let it fall. He was stuck.
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Sam looked at the clock on the wall. He couldn't tell the time, but Dean had taught him how to know when it had been too long. And he was sure that it had been too long. He bit his lip and looked at the locked door, his eyes wide with fear and anxiety. He walked over to the door, wondering if Dean hadn't been able to get in. He dragged a chair over to the door and climbed up onto it so that he could look through the peep hole. He couldn't see anything but the rain. He climbed down again and put the chair back, then came to sit down in front of the door. He would have gone to look outside properly, but Dean told him not to so he stayed put. He kept his eyes on the door knob, willing it to turn.
"Dean?" he asked in a small voice.
He waited, as if by some miracle Dean would appear, but nothing happened. He waited for a few more moments, and then got up and went into the room he and Dean shared. He climbed onto Dean's bed and burrowed under the covers. Sam breathed in Dean's warm, musky scent. He wanted to cry, but he held it back. If Dean said he would be back, Dean would be back. No matter how long it took.
"He promised," Sam whispered to himself. "He promised."
He closed his eyes. He knew that he should surely be in bed by now, and that scared him because Dean always put him to bed. He stopped suddenly, remembering what he had always been told by both Dean and Daddy: if he was ever alone and needed help he had to phone the number they had made him remember. But he wasn't alone, not if Dean was coming back, right? He grabbed Dean's pillow and pulled it against him, pressing his lips together.
"I'll wait for you, Dean," he breathed. "I'll wait. I promise."
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Dean didn't know how, but somehow he managed to grab onto the wall and pull himself up to his feet. He leant heavily against the damp wall, shutting his eyes tightly. When he opened them, he could see two of everything. He took a few deep breaths, and then stumbled forwards a few steps. He almost fell to the floor again, but managed to catch himself. The world seemed to sway around him, and a sudden rush of drowsiness rushed over him. He pushed the feeling away as much as he could and moved on, staggering to the end of the alleyway. He didn't think that the motel was that far away, but somehow it took him fiffteen minutes to drag himself along with no support.
His head span madly and he almost fell again, but when he saw the familiar motel sign a wave of relief rolled over him. He almost sat down where he was but the thought of Sammy alone pushed itself into his head and he threw himself on. Everything blurred in and out of focus, and he took a few moments to breathe before pushing himself on. He reached a door and squinted up at it. The numbers '27' danced before his eyes, and he hit the door blearily. He didn't realize how much he had been leaning on it until it opened and he stumbled forwards, his head swinging. As he fell to his knees inside the threshold, he heard a small yelp. He lifted his head to see Sammy pulling away from him, horror written all over his face.
"Dean, there's blood!" he whimpered. "Dean, I'm scared..."
Dean reached out a trembling hand to him. "Dubbe scared," he slurred out. He looked around, blinking hard. Where was he? Was this the motel room? He winced and dropped back against the wall, shaking. He felt a small hand close over his fingers and opened his eyes to see Sam's eyes only a few inches from his own face.
"You okay, Dean?" he asked nervously. "You're bleeding real bad."
Dean struggled to focus on his little brother. "S'mmy, where d'mobil?"
"Huh?"
Dean thought his sentence through and then spoke again. "Where... is... the mobile?" he asked again.
Sam vanished from his line of sight, and Dean let his eyes fall shut. It felt like only a few seconds that Sam was shaking his arm again, but when he opened his eyes he could tell from Sam's fearful expression that it had been longer. He stared at the mobile Sam was holding out.
"Wosat?"
"You wanted the phone."
Dean frowned. Had he said that? Probably... he reached for the phone, and his fingers went straight past it. He grunted and tried again, narrowing his eyes. His hand closed over the mobile and he lifted it to his face. It took him three tries to key in his Dad's number. He pressed the mobile against his ear, wincing.
After a few rings, his Dad answered.
"Dean, I told you not to call me when I'm hunting," John Winchester said coldly.
Dean concentrated on his father's voice, drawing as much comfort as he could from it. "D-Dad," he mumbled. "M'hed hurds... Dad..."
"Dean?"
His father's voice had changed noticably. Urgency rang in his tone, and... was that fear? No, Dean must be imagining things, his Dad didn't get scared.
"Dean, what happened? Answer me, son. Dean!"
Dean couldn't move his tongue properly. He could see darkness closing over him again, and the mobile slipped a little. "Help, Dad," he whispered. "Hurts..."
"Dean? Dean! DEAN!"
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John Winchester stared at his mobile in horror, his heart in his mouth. "Dean?" he asked again, quieter this time. "Dean?" A thousand questions rushed into his head.
What the hell had happened? Is Sammy okay? How bad is Dean hurt? How did he get hurt?
Pulling himself together, John quickly hung up and dialed the mobile he had given to his sons again. After a few moments, someone picked up.
"Dean?" John asked urgently.
"Daddy?"
Sam. At least he's okay.
"Sammy, where's Dean?"
Sam sounded close to tears. "He won't wake up, I... I think I did something wrong. I didn't mean to Daddy, I promise."
"What happened, Sam?"
"Dean's hair's got blood on it," Sam said sorrowfully.
John's heart jolted, and he started the Impala's engine. He had to get back, now. He kept the mobile against his ear, his hands shaking slightly.
"Sammy, you listen to me," he said forcefully. "You have to have a look at Dean's hair and tell me what you see, okay?"
Sam was crying now, clearly distressed. "Its all red, its all red," he whimpered.
Fear speared into John's stomach and he pressed down on the accelerator. "I'm coming," he told his son quickly. "I'm coming now."
The call disconnected suddenly, and John's heart jerked.
"Sam? Sammy?"
No answer. Sam must have hung up by accident. John swore under his breath and pushed the car faster.
"I'm coming," he whispered again. "I'm coming now."
If you tell me you like it, I'll stick up the next one!
SUPRNTRAL LVR.
