A Promise Made 1/2
Title: A Promise Made
Author: fuu43
Rating: PG13
Warnings: One or two curse words, heavy angst.
Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me.
Recipient: Spuffy_girl
Word Count: 5596
Prompt: After Lazrus Rising, Sam is suffering from severe separation anxiety anytime Dean leaves the room. Dean can't figure out why, until a talk with Bobby. Sam is comforted by his big brother.
Sam forced himself to stay still, his heart beat thudding loudly in his ears as he attempted to quiet his noisy breathing. With his eyes clenched shut, he physically trembled as his hands dug painfully into the fitted sheet beneath him. Swallowing back the taste of bile, he fought the urge to race to the bathroom, trusting that his stomach would settle down. Breathing through his mouth, he opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment.
He knew it was late; the morning sun had yet to cut through the large window and spill across the room. It was quiet as well, the air around him motionless in a way that only the dead of night could produce. In the dark he lay curled up on his side, his long legs bent just enough so that the worn blanket Bobby had given him covered him from neck to toe. Shivering, Sam tucked his limbs closer to his chest, wondering how it was possible that he was so chilled. The weather was nice enough that the window was open; he'd gone to sleep in a faded t-shirt and a pair of boxers.
Glancing to his left, he took in the sleeping form of his brother. In the dark Dean was barely discernable, the dark outline of him just visible as he rested on his stomach. Holding his breath, Sam listened for the sound of his brother taking in oxygen. Even with his own heart beat a jarring sound in his ears, he could hear his brother's heavy breathing. He listened to it for several long moments, refusing to take a breath until his lungs burned painfully.
Though they usually crashed in whatever space Bobby had available, the study he'd shoved them into had been perfectly suited to Sam. He'd been worried that Bobby would put them in two rooms, that he'd ask Sam to bunk upstairs and Dean downstairs. It hadn't happened before, Bobby had always managed to squeeze them into the same space, but the worry had been enough that Sam hadn't been able to keep his dinner down. While the lasagna had tasted delicious during dinner, it hadn't been nearly as good two hours later.
His stomach rolled at the memory and Sam watched his brother until it settled once more.
Sam had woken up three times before, each time his stomach twisting until he'd taken in the sleeping form of his brother. The past week he'd been popping Tums like candy until the chalky aftertaste was a constant.
Tonight he'd found himself reaching the first two times, desperate to feel the warm proof that Dean was alive. In the dark he couldn't see his brother's skin, tan from the sun and flushed slightly red from the blood that pumped beneath it. With him asleep Sam wasn't able to hear his brother's snarky laugh or watch him wolf down a bag of peanut M&Ms.
And lately, that had been all that Sam seemed able to focus on. What was Dean doing? Where was Dean? Was Dean okay? If Dean wasn't an arm's length away, wasn't in seeing distance, then there was a chance that he'd somehow been dragged back. Or worse, that Sam had imagined the whole thing and Dean had never even returned.
He knew that there was something wrong with him, had known it almost immediately after his brother had returned. When Dean had reappeared, had been real and next to him and alive, Sam had been so overwhelmed he hadn't known how to react. Now he was obsessed and was so sick with it that it barely bothered him anymore.
He watched his brother sleep and tried to make himself do the same. Waking up and needing to check that Dean was there and alive had shortened his sleeping time by hours. That, coupled with the effort he'd had to use to stay near his brother at all times was taking a toll on him. Besides all of that, Sam had had to be careful as well. It was true that Dean had been more upbeat as of late, but that didn't mean he wouldn't notice his brother wigging out. It wouldn't do anyone any good if Dean figured out how much Sam worried about him.
Dean had only been back a week, had crawled out of a grave and reappeared in Sam's life seven days earlier. The last four months seemed like a nightmare, his memories a cloudy haze that didn't want to lift. Sam didn't know how to make himself not think about it, how to make himself realize that Dean was there and alive and with him.
The first time Dean had left, it hadn't even registered to Sam. He'd still believed on some level that Dean was gone, that whatever was happening was nothing more than a bizarre dream. It hadn't seemed that far-fetched at the time, he'd had similar dreams before. Dean would miraculously return, calling him Sammy and smiling wickedly and then Sam would wake up, alone.
When they'd reunited and it had hit home that Dean was there and real, Sam hadn't been able to figure out how he'd even let Dean out of his sight. His vision had tunneled and his mind had whispered at him. Sam had been lucky this time, Dean was back. Even with everything else going on, he should have known better. Anything could have happened to Dean and Sam wouldn't have known. Hell, Sam had been away from his brother only a few short hours when an angel had appeared.
The next time Dean had disappeared, had gone quick to town while Sam had been napping, Sam had woken up and had a mini meltdown. They'd been at Bobby's for only a few days and Dean had been in sight the entire time. They were supposed to be regrouping, supposed to be resting up while they tried to sort through the mess and confusion that had been dumped on them.
Sam hadn't realized how much he'd been following his brother with his eyes, studying his every movement. He hadn't noticed that he'd automatically moved room to room with Dean, that his body had tensed in the moments his brother had stepped momentarily into the bathroom or fetched something from the study.
He'd had nightmares of course, horrible images of his brother vanishing while Sam frantically searched and searched and searched. Or worse, dreams where Dean just left, told Sam that he was weak, pathetic, and no longer any brother of his. He was used those though, had been having them for so long that they'd become almost a given.
But when Dean had left in his impala, had ran a quick errand without giving Sam the chance to tag along, Sam had literally thought he would die. He had just known that something would happen, that Dean wouldn't come back at all. And that certainty had him seeing spots, had his lungs tightening painfully as he'd clenched his eyes closed and waited for the end to come. Because if Dean left again, if Dean died again, Sam was certain that there was no way he could continue living.
By the time his brother had returned Sam had been hanging on by a thread, had nearly crawled into a corner and given up. Bobby had been there, watching him with wide eyes as he'd slowly deteriorated, talking softly to him when Sam had been certain Dean wasn't going to return.
But Dean had returned, bag of groceries on his hip and whistling a tune. Sam had grown dizzy, had thought he might puke or pass out. Slamming his hand in a kitchen drawer, he'd used the pain as an excuse for the tears he could feel wetting his cheeks. They were wiped away quickly, fast enough that his brother had only raised his eyebrows and asked if his hand was okay.
Sam had stuck as close to his brother as possible the rest of that day, actually bumping into him once or twice. It had been embarrassing but Dean had been blissfully oblivious, had been so focused on washing and waxing his baby that he'd welcomed Sam's help and ignored his weirdness. And it was weird, even Sam knew that.
Bobby had been watching Sam carefully since; Sam could feel the older hunter's eyes on him even as his own followed Dean. Sam had been trying to play it cool though, he didn't need Bobby running to Dean like he was some sort of kid. He needed to support his brother and his mini freak outs weren't helping anyone.
Listening to his brother rest, Sam gave into the urge and gently untangled one of his hands from the blanket. Cautiously he reached forward, his arm actually shaking as it traveled the short distance. He held his hand in front of his brother's face, Dean's breath warm against his fingers. Shutting his eyes, he moved his hand down so that it rested next to his brother's pillow, barely brushing against Dean's forearm. It was a testament to how tired Dean was that he didn't stir.
With Dean now literally close enough to touch, Sam's body finally gave into the exhaustion that was eating away at him.
Author: fuu43
Rating: PG13
Warnings: One or two curse words, heavy angst.
Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me.
Recipient: Spuffy_girl
Word Count: 5596
Prompt: After Lazrus Rising, Sam is suffering from severe separation anxiety anytime Dean leaves the room. Dean can't figure out why, until a talk with Bobby. Sam is comforted by his big brother.
Sam forced himself to stay still, his heart beat thudding loudly in his ears as he attempted to quiet his noisy breathing. With his eyes clenched shut, he physically trembled as his hands dug painfully into the fitted sheet beneath him. Swallowing back the taste of bile, he fought the urge to race to the bathroom, trusting that his stomach would settle down. Breathing through his mouth, he opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment.
He knew it was late; the morning sun had yet to cut through the large window and spill across the room. It was quiet as well, the air around him motionless in a way that only the dead of night could produce. In the dark he lay curled up on his side, his long legs bent just enough so that the worn blanket Bobby had given him covered him from neck to toe. Shivering, Sam tucked his limbs closer to his chest, wondering how it was possible that he was so chilled. The weather was nice enough that the window was open; he'd gone to sleep in a faded t-shirt and a pair of boxers.
Glancing to his left, he took in the sleeping form of his brother. In the dark Dean was barely discernable, the dark outline of him just visible as he rested on his stomach. Holding his breath, Sam listened for the sound of his brother taking in oxygen. Even with his own heart beat a jarring sound in his ears, he could hear his brother's heavy breathing. He listened to it for several long moments, refusing to take a breath until his lungs burned painfully.
Though they usually crashed in whatever space Bobby had available, the study he'd shoved them into had been perfectly suited to Sam. He'd been worried that Bobby would put them in two rooms, that he'd ask Sam to bunk upstairs and Dean downstairs. It hadn't happened before, Bobby had always managed to squeeze them into the same space, but the worry had been enough that Sam hadn't been able to keep his dinner down. While the lasagna had tasted delicious during dinner, it hadn't been nearly as good two hours later.
His stomach rolled at the memory and Sam watched his brother until it settled once more.
Sam had woken up three times before, each time his stomach twisting until he'd taken in the sleeping form of his brother. The past week he'd been popping Tums like candy until the chalky aftertaste was a constant.
Tonight he'd found himself reaching the first two times, desperate to feel the warm proof that Dean was alive. In the dark he couldn't see his brother's skin, tan from the sun and flushed slightly red from the blood that pumped beneath it. With him asleep Sam wasn't able to hear his brother's snarky laugh or watch him wolf down a bag of peanut M&Ms.
And lately, that had been all that Sam seemed able to focus on. What was Dean doing? Where was Dean? Was Dean okay? If Dean wasn't an arm's length away, wasn't in seeing distance, then there was a chance that he'd somehow been dragged back. Or worse, that Sam had imagined the whole thing and Dean had never even returned.
He knew that there was something wrong with him, had known it almost immediately after his brother had returned. When Dean had reappeared, had been real and next to him and alive, Sam had been so overwhelmed he hadn't known how to react. Now he was obsessed and was so sick with it that it barely bothered him anymore.
He watched his brother sleep and tried to make himself do the same. Waking up and needing to check that Dean was there and alive had shortened his sleeping time by hours. That, coupled with the effort he'd had to use to stay near his brother at all times was taking a toll on him. Besides all of that, Sam had had to be careful as well. It was true that Dean had been more upbeat as of late, but that didn't mean he wouldn't notice his brother wigging out. It wouldn't do anyone any good if Dean figured out how much Sam worried about him.
Dean had only been back a week, had crawled out of a grave and reappeared in Sam's life seven days earlier. The last four months seemed like a nightmare, his memories a cloudy haze that didn't want to lift. Sam didn't know how to make himself not think about it, how to make himself realize that Dean was there and alive and with him.
The first time Dean had left, it hadn't even registered to Sam. He'd still believed on some level that Dean was gone, that whatever was happening was nothing more than a bizarre dream. It hadn't seemed that far-fetched at the time, he'd had similar dreams before. Dean would miraculously return, calling him Sammy and smiling wickedly and then Sam would wake up, alone.
When they'd reunited and it had hit home that Dean was there and real, Sam hadn't been able to figure out how he'd even let Dean out of his sight. His vision had tunneled and his mind had whispered at him. Sam had been lucky this time, Dean was back. Even with everything else going on, he should have known better. Anything could have happened to Dean and Sam wouldn't have known. Hell, Sam had been away from his brother only a few short hours when an angel had appeared.
The next time Dean had disappeared, had gone quick to town while Sam had been napping, Sam had woken up and had a mini meltdown. They'd been at Bobby's for only a few days and Dean had been in sight the entire time. They were supposed to be regrouping, supposed to be resting up while they tried to sort through the mess and confusion that had been dumped on them.
Sam hadn't realized how much he'd been following his brother with his eyes, studying his every movement. He hadn't noticed that he'd automatically moved room to room with Dean, that his body had tensed in the moments his brother had stepped momentarily into the bathroom or fetched something from the study.
He'd had nightmares of course, horrible images of his brother vanishing while Sam frantically searched and searched and searched. Or worse, dreams where Dean just left, told Sam that he was weak, pathetic, and no longer any brother of his. He was used those though, had been having them for so long that they'd become almost a given.
But when Dean had left in his impala, had ran a quick errand without giving Sam the chance to tag along, Sam had literally thought he would die. He had just known that something would happen, that Dean wouldn't come back at all. And that certainty had him seeing spots, had his lungs tightening painfully as he'd clenched his eyes closed and waited for the end to come. Because if Dean left again, if Dean died again, Sam was certain that there was no way he could continue living.
By the time his brother had returned Sam had been hanging on by a thread, had nearly crawled into a corner and given up. Bobby had been there, watching him with wide eyes as he'd slowly deteriorated, talking softly to him when Sam had been certain Dean wasn't going to return.
But Dean had returned, bag of groceries on his hip and whistling a tune. Sam had grown dizzy, had thought he might puke or pass out. Slamming his hand in a kitchen drawer, he'd used the pain as an excuse for the tears he could feel wetting his cheeks. They were wiped away quickly, fast enough that his brother had only raised his eyebrows and asked if his hand was okay.
Sam had stuck as close to his brother as possible the rest of that day, actually bumping into him once or twice. It had been embarrassing but Dean had been blissfully oblivious, had been so focused on washing and waxing his baby that he'd welcomed Sam's help and ignored his weirdness. And it was weird, even Sam knew that.
Bobby had been watching Sam carefully since; Sam could feel the older hunter's eyes on him even as his own followed Dean. Sam had been trying to play it cool though, he didn't need Bobby running to Dean like he was some sort of kid. He needed to support his brother and his mini freak outs weren't helping anyone.
Listening to his brother rest, Sam gave into the urge and gently untangled one of his hands from the blanket. Cautiously he reached forward, his arm actually shaking as it traveled the short distance. He held his hand in front of his brother's face, Dean's breath warm against his fingers. Shutting his eyes, he moved his hand down so that it rested next to his brother's pillow, barely brushing against Dean's forearm. It was a testament to how tired Dean was that he didn't stir.
With Dean now literally close enough to touch, Sam's body finally gave into the exhaustion that was eating away at him.