Life On Mute: Unrealities 1/1
Written for the H/C bingo February challenge: Wild Card (Deafness), exhaustion, zombie apocalypse, vampyres (first bite/first transformation).
Summary: Sam wakes from some particularly strange dreams.
Sam woke with a start, jerking up in the bed. He felt hands on him, trying to steady him, and his throat felt scraped raw.
Forcing his eyes open, he saw Dean straddling him, keeping him from thrashing. From the sheer panic in his brother's eyes and the burn in his own throat, Sam realised he must have been screaming.
He grabbed a fistful of Dean's t-shirt and nodded slowly. Dean visibly relaxed, then pointed at his own mouth.
Sam shook his head. He was awake, but still too shaken to muster the energy needed to focus on reading lips.
Dean nodded and his fingers danced. OK you?
Suddenly insanely grateful that their father's sheer terror of Dean's going mute a second time had led him to raise both boys as signers as well as talkers, Sam shrugged in answer to the question.
Nightmare? Dean signed. He'd lay odds their father had never envisioned them having to use the skills because his youngest had lost his hearing in the car crash that ultimately killed John Winchester. Sam? Nightmare? Or see-dream?
Sam blinked at the strange sign combination, then it hit him. See-dream? he signed, at the same time asking, "Vision?" When Dean's nod confirmed it, Sam shrugged again, shaking his head. "Felt like both. Like watching a horror movie."
He spun the details out for Dean. He had seen himself possessed by an evil so old and so powerful that it no longer realised it was evil. While possessed by it, he had unleashed a virus that turned most of the world into zombies. That dream had ended with the horrible feeling of Dean's strong neck bones crushing to powder under possessed Sam's foot and the light fading from his brother's eyes.
Dean shook his head in horror. We stop it.
"I know. It was like... looking into a possible future, not the future future like the death visions."
Dean considered,then nodded slowly.
"There's more."
"More?" Dean gasped out loud.
Nodding grimly, Sam said, "More. This felt -- later. Like the first had never happened."
He went on to tell of a night time hunt. They were tracking a vampyre nest. But in the battle, Dean had been attacked and--
"Turned?" Dean yelped.
Sam nodded. "And there.... there was something wrong with me. I-I was watching it, and I felt nothing. Just immensely satisfied, like now we had the perfect weapon...."
Dean held up a hand, and Sam stopped talking. No, Sammy. Not going to happen.
"But--"
No. Not you. Never that. NOT. GOING. TO. HAPPEN. His signs grew large and forceful. He tapped Sam's shoulder. Nightmare. Only dreams.
".....Really?"
Really. No more Bobby's chili at midnight for you. Sleep, Sammy. I watch.
Sam shook his head. "No -- Dean, you're exhausted from working on rebuilding the Impala. You need sleep, too."
I sleep later. Promise.
With a sigh, Sam lay back down. "Stay close?"
He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of Dean spooning against his back. He touched Dean's bare wrist and pressed the "I-L-Y" shorthand sign against it.
In reply, Dean's hand gently patted twice against Sam's stomach.
Sam smiled. He knew Dean would get up as soon as he was certain Sam was asleep. But having his brother so close comforted him in the dark silence before sleep.
The smile faded as Sam sent up a prayer, like he did several times a day. This wasn't for protection, though. Or for guidance or insight.
This was a silent, earnest plea.
If regaining his hearing would lead to these horrors becoming real? Then Sam silently prayed that he would remain deaf for the rest of his life.
END
Summary: Sam wakes from some particularly strange dreams.
Sam woke with a start, jerking up in the bed. He felt hands on him, trying to steady him, and his throat felt scraped raw.
Forcing his eyes open, he saw Dean straddling him, keeping him from thrashing. From the sheer panic in his brother's eyes and the burn in his own throat, Sam realised he must have been screaming.
He grabbed a fistful of Dean's t-shirt and nodded slowly. Dean visibly relaxed, then pointed at his own mouth.
Sam shook his head. He was awake, but still too shaken to muster the energy needed to focus on reading lips.
Dean nodded and his fingers danced. OK you?
Suddenly insanely grateful that their father's sheer terror of Dean's going mute a second time had led him to raise both boys as signers as well as talkers, Sam shrugged in answer to the question.
Nightmare? Dean signed. He'd lay odds their father had never envisioned them having to use the skills because his youngest had lost his hearing in the car crash that ultimately killed John Winchester. Sam? Nightmare? Or see-dream?
Sam blinked at the strange sign combination, then it hit him. See-dream? he signed, at the same time asking, "Vision?" When Dean's nod confirmed it, Sam shrugged again, shaking his head. "Felt like both. Like watching a horror movie."
He spun the details out for Dean. He had seen himself possessed by an evil so old and so powerful that it no longer realised it was evil. While possessed by it, he had unleashed a virus that turned most of the world into zombies. That dream had ended with the horrible feeling of Dean's strong neck bones crushing to powder under possessed Sam's foot and the light fading from his brother's eyes.
Dean shook his head in horror. We stop it.
"I know. It was like... looking into a possible future, not the future future like the death visions."
Dean considered,then nodded slowly.
"There's more."
"More?" Dean gasped out loud.
Nodding grimly, Sam said, "More. This felt -- later. Like the first had never happened."
He went on to tell of a night time hunt. They were tracking a vampyre nest. But in the battle, Dean had been attacked and--
"Turned?" Dean yelped.
Sam nodded. "And there.... there was something wrong with me. I-I was watching it, and I felt nothing. Just immensely satisfied, like now we had the perfect weapon...."
Dean held up a hand, and Sam stopped talking. No, Sammy. Not going to happen.
"But--"
No. Not you. Never that. NOT. GOING. TO. HAPPEN. His signs grew large and forceful. He tapped Sam's shoulder. Nightmare. Only dreams.
".....Really?"
Really. No more Bobby's chili at midnight for you. Sleep, Sammy. I watch.
Sam shook his head. "No -- Dean, you're exhausted from working on rebuilding the Impala. You need sleep, too."
I sleep later. Promise.
With a sigh, Sam lay back down. "Stay close?"
He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of Dean spooning against his back. He touched Dean's bare wrist and pressed the "I-L-Y" shorthand sign against it.
In reply, Dean's hand gently patted twice against Sam's stomach.
Sam smiled. He knew Dean would get up as soon as he was certain Sam was asleep. But having his brother so close comforted him in the dark silence before sleep.
The smile faded as Sam sent up a prayer, like he did several times a day. This wasn't for protection, though. Or for guidance or insight.
This was a silent, earnest plea.
If regaining his hearing would lead to these horrors becoming real? Then Sam silently prayed that he would remain deaf for the rest of his life.
END