Picking Up The Pieces Chapter 10/13, NC17, Dean, Sam, Bobby, Missouri
TITLE: Picking Up The Pieces
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: This chapter: 1623, Whole Story: 28890
CHARACTERS: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Missouri, OC's
DISCLAIMER: Don't own them, only playing with them
SUMMARY: Sam thought they were ok, that finding Dean would fix everything. He was wrong. It was just the beginning.
A/N: Sequal to Retribution and Breaking Points. Will need to read that to understand this.
Sam hung precariously over the very low wall, his sturdy brother hanging onto his arm. Sam had his hand locked around Dean’s wrist, Dean had his hand around Sam’s wrist, and they hung 20 floors about the ground. Sam grunted as Dean swung wildly in the air, Sam’s other hand holding onto the wall, trying to stabilize the two of them, giving him something to use as leverage. Sam regularly commented on Dean’s terrible eating habits, telling Dean that he’ll get fat one day, but, swinging 20 stories above the earth, Sam could feel the weight of his brother, the trembling of muscle under his fingertips, and he swore he would never again mention Dean’s eating habits again. Sam knew Dean was all muscle, with all the physical activity they do, it’s to be expected, but with all 180 odd pounds of his brother hanging from one wrist, Sam could feel every one of them.
With sudden clarity, Sam realized that Dean was holding on with his left hand, his stronger hand, and that gave Sam some relief. At least Dean should be able to keep his grip for a little longer. If it was his right hand they’d be in even more trouble.
“Sammy, don’t you drop me bitch!” came Dean’s voice. A little panicked and slightly hysterical, but very much his big brother Dean. It took until that moment, for Sam to remember Dean’s fear of heights. Perfect. However, in the back of Sam’s brain he noticed that Dean didn’t stutter or slur his words, not one little bit. He could hear Thomas talking on what Sam presumed to be his cell phone in the far, far, far reaches of his mind, but his entire concentration was on Dean. His arms started trembling as they protested having the full weight of his big brother hanging onto them, but Sam could do nothing but hang on. Dean was kicking wildly, trying to find purchase on something solid for his feet, but they just kept kicking the wall, making him swing and spin wildly, putting more pressure on Sam’s arms, and stomach. As Dean hit the wall with a particularly ferocious kick, Sam slipped a couple of inches, his stomach scraping against the bricks through his thin shirt and hoodie. Sam cursed as he felt his skin scrape against the brick, and the pressure on his stomach made him feel like he was gonna hurl.
As they dropped another few inches Dean closed his eyes against the sudden, and almost overwhelming fear. “Shit, Sam, don’t drop me!” Dean yelled up to Sam, and Sam got a good look into his brother’s terrified eyes, no walls holding back the emotion as Dean raised his head to yell at Sam.
“Well jerk, if you’d stop swinging around and kicking at the wall, maybe I’d have a better chance to pull you up.” Sam grunted. He wasn’t sure how much more his arms could take when he heard the door to the roof open again and the thud of a couple of pairs of shoes hitting the asphalt. Suddenly he felt pressure on his legs and someone’s face came into his peripheral vision on his right.
“It’s ok buddy, we’re gonna help you.” The stranger said as his arm joined Sam’s and his wrist grabbed Dean’s just above Sam’s hand. “Hey buddy,” he yelled to Dean. “Can you give me your other hand, and we’ll haul you back up?”
Dean warily nodded his head and Sam realized the man was probably security. Oh shit, that’s the last thing we need. He thought. He watched as Dean threw his right arm up and into the man’s outstretched hand, his feet finding solid purchase against the brick wall, finally stopping the swinging Sam was sure was gonna pull one or both of their arms out of their sockets. With much grunting on the part of all three of them, they managed to get Dean back onto solid ground. Sam didn’t care how much of a girl it made him; he threw his arms around Dean, holding him with enough force to make Dean ask for a little breathing room. But, Sam noticed, Dean didn’t draw back or tense up. Obviously the ordeal had freaked the older hunter out too.
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Dean found himself falling. And with startling clarity he realized he was falling from 20 stories up. He barely had time to process this when he felt something, or someone, grab his arm. He’d thrown his hands up on instinct to try and grab hold of something, and someone had grabbed his outstretched hand. As his momentum carried him into the wall of the big brick building with a bone jarring force, Dean forced his eyes upward, and saw Sam leaning over the wall, his hand clasped around Dean’s arm, Dean’s hand in a mirror image on Sam’s arm. Dean’s overwhelming fear of heights was starting to take focus, and as Dean tried to find purchase on the wall for his feet, all he managed to do was wildly twist and turn in the air. He could hear the grunts and groans from his younger, shaggy haired sibling, as his weight and the wild swinging took its toll on the younger hunter’s arms. And, now that Dean had acknowledged it, his arm was starting to ache as well.
He couldn’t help but yell as a gust of wind sent him spinning wildly again. “Sammy, don’t you drop me bitch!” Dean took a second to realize that he had no idea where that had come from, and the fact that he didn’t slur his words, before he lashed out at the wall again, and he felt himself drop another few inches.
“Shit, Sam, don’t drop me!” Dean yelled, his fear plain across his face. He instinctively knew that now was not the time to be calling his brother Sammy, no matter how endearing the name.
“Well jerk, if you’d stop swinging around and kicking at the wall, maybe I’d have a better chance to pull you up.” Dean heard Sam yell. From the sound of his voice, he was having a hard time hanging onto Dean, and Dean, through years of reading his brother, could tell Sam was quickly tiring.
Suddenly a strange face popped into Dean’s field of view. The stranger’s arm joined Sam’s and his wrist grabbed Dean’s just above Sam’s hand. “Hey buddy,” he yelled to Dean. “Can you give me your other hand, and we’ll haul you back up?”
Dean wasn’t sure who they were, and it sent ingrained, almost instinctual panic through Dean. It was an almost automatic response to run, and Dean could feel his flight or fight response kicking in nice and strongly, over the fear that was currently running his body. The fight or flight instinct actually gave Dean a little more clarity.
Dean warily nodded his head and threw his right arm up and into the man’s outstretched hand, his feet finding solid purchase against the brick wall, finally stopping the swinging that he was sure was doing damage to both his and Sam’s arms. He could feel a few of the less healed cuts and burns starting to weep and he knew he had opened at least some of them.
With much grunting on the part of all three men, Dean made it safely back onto solid ground. Dean grunted at the impact that was his little brother as Sam practically threw himself on top of him, holding him with enough force to make Dean ask for a little breathing room. But Dean allowed himself to be held, if just for a minute. It allowed him to fit a mask that felt as comfortable, if not more so, than his own face, a mask of indifference and protection. It allowed him to hide his fear from everyone on the rooftop.
Finally Dean cleared his throat and Sam drew back, planting himself firmly in front of Dean, his demeanor clearly saying to everyone ‘you need to go through me to get to him.’ Dean put a calming hand on his irate sibling’s shoulder and Sam’s body lost some of its highly visible tension. To anyone else it would look like the tension was gone, but Dean could see it in the way Sam held his head, the tight line of his jaw, and the straight line in his back. To everyone else it would just look like Sam was standing to his full height, but Dean knew Sam liked to downplay his height. If Sam was pulled up to his full height, it was a sure sign he was pissed.
“Ok,” Dean said finally. “Can I go home now?” He grinned self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck as everyone glared at him. Finally everyone’s gazes lost their amazed looks except Thomas. He was still staring at Dean. “What?” Dean asked, having had enough of the staring.
Thomas shook his head, in an attempt to clear his vision. “You used your right hand to rub your neck.” Dean quickly dropped the offending limb to his side. “And, you’re standing. You’re holding your body weight on your own two feet, with only slight help.”
Dean suddenly knew how the tigers felt at the zoo as everyone turned to stare at him. The only problem was that, when Sam let go of his, relatively light, grip on Dean’s arm, Dean lost his balance and hit the rooftop. Everyone held their breath but Dean just giggled. Flat out giggled, that turned into a full belly laugh. And eventually, everyone joined in. Sam had forgotten that Dean’s full, unabashed laughter was contagious.
He finally felt like things were going in the right direction.