A.N.: So is it time for a new chapter of Trapped…I think so. Hope you guys enjoy the latest update, I'm working on 17 right now. Thank you so much for all of the reviews (Holy shit there is 100!) I appreciate it SO much. Bless all of you.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
He can't stop watching him. Even though he's painfully aware of how creepy it is, thanks to Bobby's constant quips, Sam cannot make himself tear his eyes from his brothers sleeping form for long. Dean's head is resting on the window, one of his hands lies in his lap while his other is positioned on the leather surface, almost as if he is petting his car. Sam knows it's stupid, he knows it's weak, he knows if Dean was conscious right now he would be giving him hell for it, but still...almost was too close for comfort for Sam. In fact, if they could spend the rest of their lives avoiding almost, he'd be a happy man.
"Seriously Sam, for about thirty minutes it was heartwarming, now it's just weird." Bobby gruffs, his hands shifting restlessly on the wheel.
Sam laughs softly. "I know Bobby, I know I just..."
"We made it Sam. Dean's no worse for wear." He concludes, clicking on the turning signal.
"Not that we can see." Sam replies, sitting forward to peer out of into the cemetery. "We here already?"
"Already?" Bobby starts, craning his head from side to side with an audible pop. "Says the lazy watch dog who hasn't been driving the last two hours."
"Hey!" Sam whispers. "I offered to drive, twice! You said you were fine."
"Can you guys just skip to the kiss and makeup part already; you're giving me a headache." A scratchy, annoyed voice sounds from the backseat.
"Dean! You're awake."
Dean rubs at his fatigued eyes as he pulls himself up by the back of Sam's seat. "We here?"
Bobby swings the door open. "We're here. Now to find the little darlin' and well..." he shrugs his bag up onto his shoulder. "You know."
The back door opens with a creak as Dean rises up on shaky feet. "You should stay here Bobby," Dean pauses, leaning his body up against the frame as Sam runs over. "Sam and I can handle this."
"What?" Sam questions, linking his arm through his brother's. "Dean, we need all the help we can get."
Dean yanks his arm back with a hushed. "Dude, personal space." and appears to fight a wave of dizziness.
"Yeah son, you look like you haven't gotten your sea legs back so to speak." Bobby says.
"I'm fine." Dean grunts. "Look, she already knocked you off of your ass once, I don't want," he pauses and bends down to grab the bag from the backseat.
Sam watches for a sign that Dean is about to run out of his backup reserve of stubbornness and determination.
"I don't think," Bobby begins, exchanging a confused glance with Sam.
Sam watches his brother sigh and gaze at his bandaged hands with fascination for just a moment. He watches as fear and anger and pity flash across his face in the blink of an eye before his facade slides back into place.
"This one is personal Bobby. We have to take care of this." Sam says, reaching to take the bag from his brothers shaking hands.
Dean nods.
Bobby huffs and takes off his cap to run a hand through his hair. "Hurry your asses up; don't make me come get you. I'll keep an eye out for the groundskeeper."
"Thanks Bobby." both boys chirp in unison as Dean manages an almost sincere smile.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
Sam snorts. "Dean, nobody would be fine after what you've been through."
"I'm a hunter Sam. Been through enough sick shit to have grown a pretty thick skin."
Sam breaks out the canister of salt and starts his formation of the circle.
"I know, I just,"
"Don't Sam!" he yells, his voice hoarse as it carries out into the sunlit graveyard.
Sam's head snaps up at the noise.
"Just don't okay?" he implores. "Not now Sammy."
Sam dips his head and pivots to where he can plunge the tip of the shovel into grave.
Dean slumps against the tree that canvasses the simple grave; his eyes glued to the weather worn teddy bear and freshly cut daisies laid at the base of the headstone.
"I got this Dean; you can sit this one out."
Dean's answer is lost in the wind, but Sam could swear it sounded like. "I wish I could."
The second the metal reverberates with the tale tell sound of striking wood, a chill passes through Sam the likes of which he has never felt and his brother utters. "Lily."
Her image wavers as she cries out. DON'T! DON'T DO THIS!
A shiver runs through his frame.
"Lily, we have to do this. You have to,"
YOU! She begins, pointing a trembling finger at his brother's figure. YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO BE SAVED!
Her image flickers and in that instant her innocent and frightened front fade with her. She looks mad, her face emblazoned with rage and revenge.
YOU HAVE TO BE PUNISHED! She shrieks and Sam can see in his peripheral vision that rocks and other pieces of nostalgia are being hefted into the air.
"Lily, don't do this, we're trying to help you!" Sam yells into the swirling mass of debris.
"Quit trying to talk to her Sam, let's get this shit done!" Dean yells as he pulls himself back to his feet.
Sam reaches into the grave to clear away the dirt and grabs onto the handle of the coffin.
NO! She roars as she charges forward. The salt line is blow away in her fury as Dean scrambles over to her bones with his lighter in hand.
Sam throws one of his arms over his face as remains of loved ones homages come flying straight at them.
He feels the cold hand past through him and into his chest simultaneously with the ignition of Dean's lighter.
DO IT AND HE DIES.
His brothers' lighter clicks shut as Dean mumbles. "Goddammit."