Sam crossed his legs, anxious. "Tell me we're almost to a rest stop."
Dean grinned. "You gotta go? Cause you could always put it in a bottle and-"
"Don't even start." Sam answered. He shot Dean a stern glare.
"Ah so you do remember last time." Dean laughed. Sam's face flushed. With the look Sam gave him, Dean should feel lucky loocks couldn't kill. The "last time" Dean referred to hadn't ended well. The back window was open and Bobby was sitting right behind Sam and well... The fall out had been too embarrassing. Bobby still refused to sit behind Sam in car rides.
Dean had been way too angry about the smell it left at first to crack jokes, at Sam's expense, about the whole incident until Sam's hands were raw from scrubbing and a pine air freshener had been added to his car. It still hung near the dash.
"Nothing like the smell of piss and pine, huh Sam?" Dean smiled.
Sam shook his head. The whole thought, to tell the truth, made him want to go even more. He crossed his legs tighter.
"Hang in there, Sammy. A couple more miles and we're going to be at the Widro Woods." To this Sam clenched his teeth. Dean made a gagging sound as he stifled his laughter.
All of the sudden, pressure jarred at Sam. His body tensed. The laughing tuned off abruptly, along with all other sound. He looked over, hoping something had simply made Dean stop laughing rather than this. But Dean was still roaring in laughter, despite there being no sound. Sam took a deep calming breath, hoping it would pass as it had when this all had started. The feeling worsened, like ascending rapidly into the air.
Sam shook, his every muscle twitching.
"Not now." He mumbled to himself. His eyes went out of focus. He blinked hard, hoping to fight it. Everything was a blurry mess, things slurring into each other. He knocked his head once, hoping, praying something would snap him out of it. Inside, his stomach rolled in waves, heaving and swirling of its own accord. Bile rose in his throat, an acidic taste burning his mouth. He swallowed, his throat cracked and dry. In a vain effort, he bit his cheek, something which had always helped him with nausea when he was younger. A single jolt shot up from his chest, everywhere it hit bubbling as if it was alive. He could feel his control of the attack slipping away. His body shivered, like a child in the cold.
Fear began to grip him. Fear of the pain; fear of what Dean would say in the eventual day he found out. Fear that the car would not stop before the attack worsened.
Jolt.
He looked consciously to Dean. His messy form paid no head to the expression on his face, watching the road. Inside, Sam felt a slight pang of greatfulness.
He began to loose his sense of time, seconds blurring into minutes, smearing, merging together. His sense of direction had been long lost; they could be rising up to face God and he would never know it.
Jolt.
His head was spinning, making his reactions slow and muddled. He shook. A weight lay all over his body, which felt like a bomb near exploding. He pushed out feebly, his body set now in its full tremors.
Jolt.
This one almost keeled him over onto the floor. He caught himself, fingers grating across the window. He could feel his skin growing cold as ice. If he didn't get out soon…he'd have a lot to explain. He blinked hard again. A dark blur was visible just ahead. Widro Woods, he realized hopefully. He willed the Impala to move faster. Widro was his only hope.
Another jolt, this time not coming from his body but the Impala as it stopped, tires screeching across an otherwise clean road. Hs head throbbed and he tried to groan, receiving no sound still. He felt something sprinkle him. But he paid it no mind. His hands fumbled around for the door handle. He gripped the solid metal in his hands and was ready to pull when he felt a burning on his arm. The burning squeezed down and he tried to grunt. He tried to pull the handle wearily, but the door wouldn't move. The burning squeeze again and he turned to its source with an intense glare.
Jolt.
A shadowy figure he vaguely knew was Dean held his arm. His lips moved, blurry to Sam's eyes. He stuttered, considering trying to speak and make some excuse. But before he even was able to try and say another word.
Jolt.
It hit with such force, he had to fight from collapsing and going into seizures as he often did. He was sure if he could hear, he would be hearing a cry of pain or at least a grunt tearing from his lips.
Jolt.
Another wave of nausea hit him. His breathing grew heavy and hard, sweat dripping down his brow. He couldn't stay another second. He felt ready to jump right out of his skin if it meant escaping this. His hands fumbled for the handle once more. He could feel Dean's eyes burrowing into his skin. The door wouldn't budge!
Just before he was about to give way, he saw the problem. In a sting of crystal clear confidence, lasting but a second though still enough, he reached for the lock and swung open the door. He stumbled out of the car, almost falling flat. But he knew if he fell now, Dean would do something he or Sam would sorely regret.
With a push, he began to jog towards the forest, sure by now Dean was following him. He risked picking up the pace, the world still mere colors to his eye, like a washed out painting. He ran faster, knowing he had always been the faster of the two but also knowing if he fell, that was were he would remain till the fit was over.
Sam raced through the pines, his heart racing and rolling waves of shivers running down his body. He moved erratically; heading to no certain place, only knowing he wanted to get away. The trees towering above him came in as billowing clouds of smoke in his eyes. He had to force himself to believe this, lest he begin having delusions that they were the blackened souls of massive demons.
Jolt.
It hit him so hard, he lost his footing, pitching forward toward the forest floor. The force sent his face deep into the soil, tearing the skin in several places. He writhed, thrashing wildly and sending the settled forest litter flying into the air. Again, the acid rose in his mouth. This time he did not hold back, spewing acid onto the earth beside his head. His heart thudded in his head, still racing. The chills intensified made worse by the freezing ground.
Jolt.
Everything simply blurred around him as invisible daggers burrowed into his skin. His chest tightened. A shadow gathered within him. It fought for control of him. But Sam still refused to relent, biting his tongue to stay conscious. He fought a loosing battle though, he knew.
The endless cycle of pain and misery filled him, erasing the meaning of time. He wanted to cry out, but subconsciously, he remembered that he hadn't wanted to let Dean find him. Not yet. So instead, he just tried to bear it, often faltering.
Eventually, his head began to throb rather than scream; his breathing grew less erratic with the tension in his chest subsiding. His body calmed once more to gentle shakes. But Sam lay, silent and too afraid any movement would bring back the pain. His body relaxed a little more As his hearing returned, he could here his brother.
"Sam!" He called out in the distance, "Sammy?"
His voice calmed Sam even further. He risked sitting up, finding only the slightest throbbing greeted him
Sam had not told Dean a word about his attacks, though he knew in the back of his mind that Dean would find out sooner or later. Dean already knew something was wrong with him. And after today, Sam doubted much time would pass before Dean confronted him. And it scared him to think of what Dean might say. He had no clue what was happening to Sam, though. This Sam was sure of. Otherwise, he would have recognized what was happening the moment Sam's breathing had changed.
He had only told one other person about them. Ruby. Well, she wasn't a person, per say. But after the first one, shortly after Dean had come back from Hell, Ruby had sensed them almost. She had confronted Sam about them, as they had just been training before the attack. He had shrugged it off as a fluke, not even knowing at the time what was wrong himself. After his fourth, Ruby had confronted him once more. He admitted to her everything he knew about them himself.
He was determined to keep his attacks a secret from anyone else he could help. Bobby, other hunters, his enemies, Dean. Especially Dean. Everything about them terrified Sam. Their violent manner, the fact he couldn't stop them nor control his actions while they were happening. But the biggest thing was, after each, he felt less himself. That and he always gained a new ability afterwards.
Before they started, Sam had had premonitions, imperviousness to demon magic, immunity to demon viruses, and, with Ruby's help, the ability to kill a demon just by willing it. And he thought he'd been a freak back then. Now, he realized, was a lot worse. He could kill anything by willing it, cut down anything from the smallest insect to person or even a monster. He almost seemed to be able to sense danger often, faster then even Dean's honed senses could. And whether Sam worked out or not, every day he got stronger, faster, better. There were other, small things. Some had taken more than one period to develop. Some he could access at any time, where as others went on and off like a light switch.
Sam listened for a moment.
"Sammy!"
Dean's voice had gotten closer. He'd have to get up soon to avoid more confrontation. He gave a heaving sigh. As bad as today's had been, it wasn't the worst of them. That had been yesterday. Sam had gotten so crazy from it and the seal together; he had tried to distract himself by cutting himself with a steel blade. The pain he had felt was a relief compared to what he had been feeling the moment before. It had spread through him, the gentle, in-tone-to-his-beating-heart throbbing was a moment of clarity and salvation midst his pain.
But it did not last. Abruptly, it stopped, leaving him once more to the attack. That attack, he even passed out for a short time. But before he had, he was surprised to see his cut had healed over, not but a white scar and clothing with blood proved it had ever been.
The whole thing had scared the living daylights out of him. His abilities had never been physically visible. Always internal or hidden. It had taken him by surprise. The though still gave him chills. Suddenly thinking of it, he reached up to his face. Surely enough, his skin was completely smooth, save the scar he had. He shook his head. At least Dean couldn't ask what they were. He doubted such shallow wounds could or would scar.
He got up with a start, brushing the dirt from his body. He still had to go…
He quickly moved out of the whiff of his vomit still lying on the ground, kicking some dirt over it as he left. Soon he was far enough away and even a little closer to Dean's frantic calls.
After a short time, just behind him, the brush exploded as Dean suddenly appeared, his breathing hard and labored. Sam could hear his sigh of relief.
"You scared me." Dean said softly.
Sam straightened up, turning to face Dean. "I really had to go."
"Don't lie to me. That wasn't just your pee-pee face, Sam. Something's happening to you and I need to know what." Dean replied sternly. Here we go. Sam thought to himself.
"Dean, it's nothing." Sam answered, trying to keep as true of a gaze on him as possible. The two just sat there, Sam looking down into his eyes, their gazes locked in a stare match. Dean never faltered, not once. He kept his eyes locked and his face fixed in a stern frown. His gaze pierce right through Sam's charade, showing his tough boy eyes and expression for what they really were. It was a regular Winchester showdown…and Dean was winning
Finally, after what seemed an eternity of long, hard staring, Sam relented, backing down. "That's what I thought. Now tell me the truth, Sam."
What? Did Dean honestly expect Sam to give something this valuable up to him in an instant? A secret Sam had guarded so carefully, he'd learned approximate times and dates and took many precautions while on the road? Granted, this one came unexpectedly, but most often, between what help Ruby could and often did give and his own mapping out of the attacks, he usually knew most everything about when to expect them.
"There's nothing to tell." Sam responded, turning his back on Dean. He couldn't let it show, but tears had welded up in his eyes.
"Sam, you don't need to lie to me. Did you get hurt? Are you sick? Are you in trouble? Tell me so I can help." Dean said in a much sweeter tone. Sam said nothing. He could tell by his brother's sigh, he had as well.
Both Winchesters continued this silence, even when Dean lead Sam back to the Impala and the two drove off in silence.