Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, I just wish I do!
My first Wee!chester fic, Sam is six, Dean is ten.
"Daddy? Daddy?" Sam asked, his voice trembling.
No answer. Sam looked blankly at the mobile, his salty tears trickling over the corners of his lips. Dean had been trying to teach him how to work one over the last few days, but right now his mind was a panicked blank. The battery image at the top of the screen flashed once, and then it all went black. He let the mobile fall and looked at Dean's motionless body, his heart pounding.
"Dean?"
Nothing. Dean lay slumped against the wall, his head rolled to one side so that Sam could clearly see the blood matting the hair on the back of his head. Sam gulped and then reached out to touch Dean's arm. Dean's clothes were soaking with dirty water, as if he had taken a swim in a pond or something. Sam rubbed his arm hesitantly.
"Dean?" he asked again. "Dean? I'm scared. I want you back, now. Dean?"
He tightened his grip on his brother, his voice breaking into sobs again. "S'not funny, Dean," he whimpered. "De-eean!"
Dean didn't wake up. Sam leant forwards so that their noses were almost touching.
"I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "I'm sorry if I made you mad. You can have the ice cream if you wake up."
He waited, but then finally sat back on his heels. He looked down at the mobile. Maybe he should try to call Daddy again, but Daddy had just told him to look at the blood and he didn't want to do that.
What do I do? He asked himself, another sob catching in his throat. "I don't know what to do, Dean," he said aloud. "I don't know..."
He pressed his lips together, trying not to cry too much. Dean wouldn't want him to be crying, it always made him look sad too. Sam suddenly realized that the door was still open, and rain was blowing into the room.
Keep the door locked, don't let anyone in.
Dean's words leapt into his head, the words that were always said to him before he was left alone. Sam scrambled to his feet and ran to the door. He pushed it shut and locked it, then stood still for a few moments. Then he grabbed a chair, hauled it over to the sink and climbed onto it. He pulled himself onto the draining board and stood up on it, so that he could see out of the window. He pulled the curtains closed, fear slowly mounting in his chest. What if someone came? If one of the monsters his Daddy knew about came after him and Dean? And Dean couldn't do anything, wouldn't be able to save him...
So I'll have to save Dean...
The thought leapt into his head and stayed there. Sam turned to look at his brother's still form, and then slid down from the draining board. He ran over to Dean and looked at him hard, struggling to decide what to do. Slowly, he reached out and brushed Dean's bloody hair with his fingertips. The came away wet and bloody. Sam shivered and wiped the blood on his jeans, his stomach turning.
A sudden memory leapt into his head. It hadn't been that long ago, a week at the most. He had been running towards their motel room, and he had tripped and fallen and cut his knee. Dean had calmly picked him up and carried him to the bathroom where he had put something that stung on the graze and then held a small towel against it for a while.
"It'll be fine, Sammy," he had said, grinning at him. "You might even get a cool scar or something."
"I d-don't w-wanna," Sam had wailed.
Dean had shaken his head. "It'll look good, honest. All the girls will love it."
Sam rose to his feet and ran into the bathroom, going to the first aid kit that Daddy kept in the cupboard below the sink. As he opened it, his heart sank in dismay. There were a lot of bottles, some filled with small white sweets, others with thick liquid. Sam had no idea which one Dean had used that time. Tears began to fill his eyes again but he brushed them away quickly. Had to be strong for Dean.
He closed the cupboard and stood up. The stinging stuff wasn't nice anyway, it hurt too much. Sam turned slowly, looking for a towel like the one Dean had used. Then he gave up and grabbed the closest one - a large one belonging to the motel - and ran back into the other room. The towel tangled around his feet and he fell to the floor in the doorway. Tears automatically rushed down his face, and he opened his mouth in a wail.
"Deeee..." his voice trailed off.
Dean couldn't help him.
He lay stunned for a few moments, at a loss as to what to do. Then he picked himself up, grabbed the towel and moved quickly on, pulling the towel close to his chest so that he wouldn't fall over it again. He ran over to Dean and knelt down next to him again.
"Dean?" he checked, but again got no response.
He bit his lip, and then lifted the towel. Then he let his hands fall. Dean was in the wrong position, and Sam couldn't reach the back of his head. Sam hesitated.
"Dean?" he asked again.
When he got no response he put the towel down and then hesitantly reached for Dean. He pulled at his brother experimentally, but Dean didn't budge.
I can't... he's too big...
Almost at once, another thought rushed into his head.
I have to.
He took a deep breath and then reached for his brother again. He got a firm grip on his brother's shoulders and then tugged at him. Dean swayed slightly, but didn't tip over. Sam gritted his teeth and jerked his brother sideways as hard as he could. Dean toppled over and hit the floor hard, Sam unable to support him. Panic lurched through him, but Dean still didn't wake up. He crouched beside his brother, still gripping his jacket.
"D-Dean? Dean?"
Dean didn't stir. Sam bit his lip and then, as carefully as he could, turned Dean's face away from him. He could finally see the wound now, and he almost began to cry again at the sight of it. He blinked away the tears and reached for the towel, quickly covering the wound so that he couldn't see it. That was a little better... he pushed the towel against Dean's head, and Dean moaned softly. Sam jerked away, snatching his hands back.
"I's sorry, I didn't mean to, Dean, I just..." he stopped. Dean wasn't waking up. Slowly, Sam picked up the towel again and put it against Dean's bloody hair once more. This time, Dean didn't make any sound. And Sam didn't know if that was good or very, very bad.
SWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDWSWDW
John sped down the road and tore around a corner, leaving black tyre markes on the tarmac behind him. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes since Dean had called, and he couldn't get through to his boys. If something had come after them... he felt a flash of fury at Dean, and then at himself. How could he leave his boys alone when they were so young and not expect something to go wrong? He pushed the car faster, his jaw clenched.
And sirens began to wail behind him.
"Oh, no, no no!" John snarled, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel in frustration. "I don't have time for this..."
He tried to ignore the sirens, but the police car soon began to overtake him. He swore loudly and then stamped on the breaks, the tyres of the Impala squealing as he skidded to a halt. The police car sped past him, then braked and doubled back. An officer climbed out and strode over to him, pulling out a speeding ticket. John opened the door and leapt out of his car, walking to meet him.
"What?" he snapped.
"You were going over ninety in a thirty mile an hour zone, buddy!" the officer replied heatedly. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you drunk?"
"No, I have to-"
"I'm testing you. Stay right there, don't move." The officer began to move back towards his car.
John swore again and looked over at the vechile. There was no other officers in it. John looked at his watch. Fiffteen minutes.
I have to go. Now.
He turned and began to jog back towards his car.
"Hey, get back here!" the officer yelled, and John heard footsteps behind him. Letting out a roar of frustration, John span around and balled his hand into a fist. His knuckles connected with the officer's jaw, and the policeman tumbled to the ground. John dragged him over to his car and then ran back to the Impala. Normally, he wouldn't leave an innocent man out on the road with no one to help him, but he didn't have a choice right now. His boys were in trouble. And he had to help them.
He glanced at his watch again as he swerved around the police car and roared down the road. Too long, it was taking too long, and the car couldn't go any faster. He had to be there now. He looked at his watch once again, letting out a small 'urgh!' of fury.
I've got no choice, there's no other way to get there.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, forcing himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
God, I hope I'm not too late.
