Day 1

[allroadslead]

Sam honestly wasn't sure if he slept per se or if he just passed out. The last thing he remembered was giving Dean the gun and then it was pretty much lights out from there. He woke with a sharp pain in his knee, probably from being shoved into such a tight space all night, and it was only when he cracked open his eyes that he realized it was

Comments

[roads_end]

Sam didn't look threatened at all by the - well, he knew what morning was, it was when the staff started coming in and he could hear them on the other side of the door. It was just that he'd never actually seen it happen like this, all gradual and with sunlight, and it was a lot slower than he'd expected, instead of all the light just flaring on at once in the room and blinding him each time, like it was supposed to in the first place. Dean couldn't help keeping an eye on it even as Sam disentangled his fingers from the gun. Yeah, it wasn't exactly what he'd thought morning would look like. A part of him still wanted to try to shoot the sunlight, just to make sure.

His head swiveled back to Sam when he asked him if he could move. Dean wasn't sure, but hell if he'd tell Sam to his face that he couldn't.

Keep saying no and eventually he'd just ditch his ass and go on without him.

"I can try," Dean said, working to put on his game face on. His legs were still a little on the numb, tingly side, and he wasn't sure how long he could walk without Sam supporting him. Maybe a few feet? "But I can't remember the last time I walked, so I don’t know how far I can get on my own." Dean paused, and then decided, for once, to go out on a real limb here, “Can you show me?”

That, he had no choice to but to admit. No matter how much he didn't want Sam to leave him behind, he still felt his brother had a right to know if he was gonna slow him down. And why did this feel familiar? Straining to shift through all the memories - or, rather, all the holes there were there should’ve been memories - Dean managed to pick out one that was starting to resurface, slow but there. It’d been months ago, back on that table before they switched everything to iron, little more than just a thought. I gotta be ready for Sam and wanting to use his legs. Huh. He didn’t even remember that until now; obviously he’d never gotten around to training up his legs like he had the rest of him and he wondered if it was ‘cause he plain forgot or if that was something White-Eyes specifically targeted for slicing out. Maybe he didn’t want him to go running off; make him depend on him for when the time came, if it was ever gonna come.

Wasn’t like he’d ever been able to think of actually getting off that table by the time Sammy busted him out.

Well, he’d just have to learn now. And he’d have to count himself extra motivated ‘cause anything else just meant he ended up by himself in the middle of nowhere and if there was anything his first night outside taught him, it was that he wouldn’t stay sane if he had to deal with this dirty, loud world without Sammy.

Dean started to try to struggle to his feet, determined to get started now and learn how to walk as fast as possible. Now seemed a good time as any. His legs felt detached from the rest of him, all boneless, and he had to actually look down and watch them to make sure they were moving at all - they were, even if it wasn’t translating to his head right now, like how he could tell where his arms were and how they were moving. Dean would just have to keep an eye on them and learn to get used to it until they caught up with the rest of him. Some of his wounds were still oozing blood, all raw and weeping at the edges as he jostled them; since they weren’t being reopened by White-Eyes, it was a case of not even remembering they were still there until he looked down and saw the entry point of the stake just under his ribcage. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but it looked slightly (and he meant slightly) smaller than yesterday when he’d been feeling it up.

Maybe he was healing, even without the drugs or the pills.