NIGHTMARE SCENARIO
Desperate times mean that Sam has to make a decision that he knows Dean won't like ...
As this may (or may not) be my last posting before Christmas, can I take this opportunity to wish all my fab friends on Fanfic a wonderful Christmas, safe travels, and a healthy and happy 2011. I hope you all find a Dean under your misletoe ;)
Chapter 5
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Sam spent a cold, restless and uncomfortable night taking stock of their situation, and watching his brother sleep. He was actually watching his brother's legs sleep – he couldn't see Dean's body from behind the back of the pilot's seat; but he could hear the sighs and groans which pointed to the likelihood that Dean, too, was enduring a thoroughly restless and unpleasant night.
In fact, Sam reflected, he wouldn't be at all surprised if the crafty bastard wasn't sleeping at all, and just pretending for Sam's consumption. But, he was in no position to preach about being deceitful; in the interests of protecting Dean, he hadn't been quite so forthcoming about his own condition as he might have been. His chest was mottled with bruises of every shape, size and colour; he hadn't mentioned the dislocated shoulder he'd rapidly popped back into place before he could go to check on Dean. He was quite sure the dramatic landing had tied his neck in some kind of knot; it was protesting wildly and stiffening by the second; not being in any way helped by an environment in which he couldn't stand up straight.
Overnight, he had carried out a thorough inventory of their provisions; given that they had packed for a four-hour flight, and not a prolonged survival scenario in a hostile environment, he was not optimistic, nor was he surprised when their combined stock of provisions turned out to consist of just over two litres of water, an Oh Henry chocolate bar and a banana.
Not enough to sustain the two of them for a day in this environment.
Through the night, Sam had done a lot of thinking, and a lot of worrying; he'd examined their limited - very limited - options, and after endlessly mulling over the alternatives and the consequences of each option, he had reached a difficult and reluctant decision.
That was the easy part; now he had to sell it to Dean.
Xxxxx
Dean groaned, and shifted his aching back with a yawn, slowly opening desperately tired eyes. He froze, mid-yawn, as his blurred eyes focussed on his brother's smiling face, filling his field of vision.
"S'mmy …" he grunted vacantly, knuckling his eyes with a wince.
"Breakfast?" Sam smiled, handing Dean half of the chocolate bar, and a bottle of water. "Drink it slowly, we don't have much," he added.
Dean took the chocolate hesitantly; "uh, thanks," he muttered, tugging the fleece jacket tighter around himself against the dawn chill.
Sam wedged himself the on the floor between the seats, so that he could sit and talk to his brother, stifling a grimace as a sudden pain gripped his neck and shoulder He took in Dean's blackened and heavily swollen ankle, "I've got some painkillers in the first aid kit, dude; but you gotta eat first."
Dean nodded, letting out a groan which prompted Sam to instinctively reach out and grasp his elbow.
"Dude;" said Dean, hesitantly, "'m not goin' anywhere!"
Sam smiled, squeezing his brother's arm. "Not on that leg you're not!" He replied, offering the painkillers.
The brothers sat in silence, comforted by each other's closeness in the tiny cabin, watching and drowsing as the sun rose to it's zenith and brought the desert's intense heat along with it.
Sam busied himself making sure Dean drank little and often, took his painkillers, took off the fleece when the day became unbearably hot; he encouraged Dean to nap when the need arose.
All the while neither brother broke the physical contact.
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It was mid afternoon, almost 24 hours since their traumatic landing, before Sam spoke up hesitantly; "Dean, I've been thinking'."
Dean was leaning back against the window, his closed eyes partially hidden by the gauze bandage wrapped round his head which had been working it's way down over his brow as the day wore on.
"Uh-oh, now we're in trouble;" he muttered, straight-faced.
"Just be thankful you're injured, an' I'm too much of a decent guy to smack a cripple." Sam replied in mock indignation.
Dean scowled; "so tell me, what were you thinkin'?"
"I was thinking', I might, um, go and take a walk and see if I can find any help," Sam announced nervously, speaking quickly as if that would reduce the impact of what he had just said.
"No." Came the response without the slightest hesitation.
"Dean, I just thought …"
"I said no, Sam."
Sam sighed; well that went well!
"Look, Dean. I won't go far, just a quick wander - to see if I can see any signs of civilisation nearby." He paused to see if he was getting through to Dean; the signs weren't encouraging.
"When we were coming in to land, I'm sure I saw a couple of buildings pass underneath us, it might have been that airfield where that guy, Peter, was …"
Dean glared at Sam from under the crooked gauze which had slipped ever lower over his eyebrows.
"No, what you said was that you wanted to go wandering off on your own in the middle of the friggin' desert." Dean irritably hoisted the bandage up to glare at Sam; "it ain't happenin' Sammy. We sit tight an' wait for Peter to come for us."
"We don't know that he will, it's been 24 hours already, and still no sign;" replied Sam, raising his voice a notch. "Last you heard the guy didn't have a clue where we were."
"Look Sammy," Dean softened his voice to try to calm the situation; he didn't want this discussion to degenerate into an argument. "I'm sure he's out looking for us even now; give it a couple of days, and we'll be fine." He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes, it was clear to Sam that he was in enormous discomfort. Sam wasn't sure if the sheen of sweat across his face and neck was down to the desert heat or something more sinister.
"We don't have a couple of days," snapped Sam, "Have you seen a single plane go over since we've been here?"
He watched Dean think for a moment before slowly shaking his head; "that's my point." He scraped a hand over his face, "Dean, our entire stock of provisions now is just over a litre of water and a banana."
"Party time;" grunted Dean without a hint of humour.
"That's not enough water to sustain both of us for the rest of today, never mind a couple more days on top of that" he snapped. "Do I need to remind you that you spent most of the journey puking your guts up and sweating like a pig, so you're dehydrated already?"
Instantly regretting his sharp tone, he reached out to rub Dean's arm. "I'm sorry, Dude, I didn't mean to shout, I'm just scared." He hesitated, looking into Dean's flushed face; "but if I were any other dude, you wouldn't give a second thought to me going out there wandering about."
Dean blinked, gazing up at Sam from under his bandage; his expression suddenly changed from looking like he was about to break down to looking irritable; "okay, Einstein, tell me this, those building you saw - what direction were they in?"
"There," Sam pointed towards the back of the plane with a confidence he wasn't sure he felt.
"Are you sure?" Dean asked, "we spun a couple of times when I dumped this tub on the ground."
"Yeah" said Sam, "it was late afternoon when we landed, and the Sun was getting low in the sky ahead and to the right of us, that means we were flying from the south east to the north west;" he turned back to face Dean and gestured through the windscreen, "the sun set right in front of us last night, so that's west; that means south east is behind us and to the left …"
Dean paused, looking out slightly cross-eyed from under the bandage, before responding. "How'd you get so freakin' cleaver, smartass?"
Sam smiled weakly, and leaned forward so that his face was close to his brother's. "Dean, I've got to find some help; I think you're getting feverish, we have no food, no water, and no guarantee that anyone is coming to find us."
Dean hitched up the ever-slipping bandage and struggled to look Sam in the eye, "but Sam …"
"You know I've got to do this, don't you."
"But, Sammy ..."
"Dean ..." snapped Sam
Dean's nod was a long time coming, and barely perceptible.
Sam smiled, "let me do this, let me do something for you for a change".
Dean stared down into his lap. "Someone might come," he murmured quietly, grasping at any straw that might change Sam's mind; "leave it just a bit longer Sammy, 'cos someone might find us…"
But he knew it was a lost cause. He'd seen that look on Sam's face before; Sam's mind was set, and this was happening whether Dean wanted it or not.
He began to shake again.
Sam cupped Dean's chin; "I promise I'll be back before dark, dude; the hottest part of the day's over, if I leave now I can get a good look for a couple of hours before the daylight fails."
Dean gave a futile shake of the head, "Sammy …"
Patting Dean on the shoulder, Sam tried to reassure him; "trust me, this time tomorrow, you're gonna be lyin' in a hospital bed, in an air conditioned room, moanin' about your plaster cast itchin'."
Sam turned, wincing as his sore neck protested; he fussed and fretted, wrapping Dean in his fleece ready for the evening chill, and making sure that he forced down half the banana before taking the last of their painkillers.
"Right," Sam took a deep breath, "try to get some sleep, dude, I'll be back before you know it." He handed Dean a bottle containing half of their remining water.
He turned, checking his pockets to make sure he had what he needed; compass, phone, flashlight, water, and slowly exited the plane.
Dean watched him go with frightened, despairing eyes.
xxxxx
tbc