Hey guys!
It was somewhere between my fourth hour of Psych Statistics homework and American History when this chapter kind of just slid from my fingers… I figured I might as well type it and give you all something, after a little over a week without.
Sorry about that too, I've been swamped with work from my classes, and actual work, and I just haven't had the time to work on this like I want to.
Another little note, I have NO idea where this is going, it's just kind of steering itself, so be patient and keep reading and reviewing please!! It really makes me smile to see a review sitting in my inbox in between pages of homework.
Chapter 10:
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LAST TIME:
His breath hitched when Dean touched him, the simple gesture spreading fire through him. He heard something (expensive) shatter, and felt Dean jump next to him, the move fueling the flames running rampant in him.
"Don't t-touch me," Sam ground out, and when Dean made no move to take his hand away, he sobbed out, "please!" The hand was gone in split second and immediately the pain worsened and Sam yearned for its warmth and comfort.
"Oh, god!" He sobbed out and curled into himself all the tighter, knowing his brother understood when the hand was replaced against the small of his back. It didn't do anything to stop the pain, but it helped with the panic.
"Sorry," it was no more than a whisper, and Sam didn't understand the statement. "MISSOURI!" Dean screamed, and Sam whimpered at the flash of pain, hearing a crack, and feeling the couch jerk down on his side.
"Please," he moaned, leaning over towards Dean, curling into the comfort of his brother, begging for the pain to end.
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'Twenty years, it's breaking you down
Now that you understand, there's no one around
Take a breath, just take a seat
You're falling apart and tearing at the seams'
Heaven Forbid – The Fray
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Sam felt it when the blood started dripping from his nose, its warm trail running over his top lip and falling off to seep into the denim of the jeans he wore.
He could smell the bitter copper through flared nostrils, his breathing heavy and harsh through his nose.
His jaw and eyes were clenched tight against the pain, tremors wracking his lanky form.
He could hear Dean screaming for Missouri, and reassurances that almost sounded like pleading, as Dean's hand spasmed on the small of his back.
Through all of that, voices swirled and twisted their way into his mind, screaming, laughing, yelling; they dug at what was left of his willpower, of his fragile psyche. They beat at him, flooding his mind with images and pain worse than the visions, telekinesis, and exorcizing combined.
It's like flicking a switch.
The words drifted in and made themselves more pronounced than the rest of the matter invading his mind. He remembered Ava telling him something along those lines in Cold Oak and now it made some sense to him as his powers continued to overwhelm.
As soon as the thought was there, it was gone. The pain and voices seemed to swallow him, wrapping him in a blanket of piercing thorns and rusted nails. They bit and tore at him, shredding the last of his sanity and dignity, as everything crashed down on him at once.
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"Missouri!" Dean called again, not daring to take his eyes off Sam, who was now curled over completely. Dean wrapped his other arm around his brother and drew Sam closer to him, Sam's ear pressed to Dean's stomach, one hand clenched in his hair and the other wound tightly into the fabric of Dean's shirt.
As Dean watched, his chin pressed into to Sam's hair, and his arms wrapped around his little brother, blood flowed from his brother's nose and ears. Sam whimpered and drew farther into himself, his eyes clenched and teeth ground so tightly together Dean wondered if they would crack and break in resistance.
Dean felt Sam's muscles bunch under his hand, and he jerked a keen ripping from his throat as the window between the kitchen and living room shattered.
Dean instinctively tried to cover the younger man as much as possible, but the glass stopped just short of them, almost as if hitting a wall before dropping to the floor in a shower of shiny glinting and clatters.
Dean watched the procession, dumbfounded and speechless before another harsh jerk shook Sam's body and a whimper mixed with a sob strangled its way past Sam's teeth. The railing on the stairway splintered and broke, surprising Missouri who was hurrying down the stairs, rumpled and worried.
As Dean watched her, tremors made their way through Sam, hard enough to shake the broken couch and Dean. He saw her horror as she felt her way through Sam's mind, before a mask of calm slipped over her features and she hurried the rest of the way to them.
A cry ripped through Sam, his back arcing and his mouth opening to gasp in breaths, as Missouri stepped within the wall that he had built around himself and Dean. She halted, her hand just above his shoulder and looked at the brothers.
Dean could see that she felt something wrong from where she stood, and wanted to ask her what it was, at the same time he didn't want to move from his position wrapped around Sam. His brother seemed to be calmer with Dean where he was, and the older man didn't want to do anything to disturb that calm.
But as Missouri dropped her hand the rest of the way to Sam's shoulder, the younger man jerked and moaned, pressing harder into Dean.
"Oh lord," Missouri breathed and Dean turned his head to fully look at her, resting his ear on the top of Sam's head.
If it was possible, Missouri looked more concerned for Sam now than she had before. Without saying a word she placed her other hand on the side of Sam's head and her eyes went from focused to unseeing.
Sam's breath hitched, and he tried to turn away from the invading touch on his mind, pressing further into Dean. Dean tightened his arms in response, trying to pull the younger man into himself, to do his big brother duty and protect him from the world and from his own mind.
Dean didn't know how long they stayed like that, it felt like hours with Sam jerking and whimpering in his arms, but in all likely hood, it had probably only been a few moments. But then Sam slumped in his arms, his breathing still harsh but better than it had been, and Missouri lifted her hands from him.
Missouri looked sick when Dean turned to her. She was shaking and pale as she stared down at Sam with sympathy in her eyes. "I need some Aspirin," she said in a low voice before walking quickly from the room.
Dean wanted to follow her and ask what was going on, but after the show he had just witnessed, there was no way in hell he was going to get up and leave Sam alone.
So Dean settled for pushing Sam up and then back, twisting him so he lay with his head against the arm of the unbroken side of the couch, trying to ignore the winding trails of blood on his face, and the matching stains on his jeans and Dean's shirt. He stood and levered Sam's legs on the opposite side of the couch, grabbing a large tome to stuff under the couch and level it out.
That done, he stood and looked down at Sam, pain lining his face even in sleep. (unconsciousness) He looked up when he heard Missouri's padding footsteps coming toward him, her hand extended to him with a wet cloth. He took it gratefully and knelt down next to his brother.
"What happened?" He asked, not looking up from his task of cleaning the blood from Sam's upper lip. "What made this time so much worse?" He asked again when she hadn't answered, and turned to the blood dribbling from Sam's right ear and down his neck.
"Dean…" Placating and resistant.
"No, I want to know why you're so worried." Dean didn't mean to sound so harsh, but when it came to Sam, withholding information was a really bad idea.
Missouri drew in a deep breath and huffed it out, taking a step closer to the couch. "It seems that with his recent usage of his powers, he broke a sort of barrier," she stopped for a second, seeming to be thinking over her next words before continuing, "When he went up against Samhain and used his powers on that great of a challenge, he let the rest of his powers be released."
"And?" Dean asked impatiently when she didn't continue.
"And his mind isn't ready for that kind of power." She said finally. Dean turned slowly to look at her, fear written clearly on his face.
"What do you mean, not ready?" He asked carefully, afraid of the answer.
Missouri held steady, looking him straight in the eye and sighing before saying, "It means, that if we can't get Sam's mind to catch up with his powers, they will kill him."
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A/N: So I hope you liked this and aren't going to hunt me down for ending it like that… : )
So review and tell me what you think.
Take care
DS