The little business card that he wrote the guy’s name and number on is wedged in the fucking back of the book and for the last two hours he’s been focusing as hard as he can on getting it out. But the going is hard, especially when Dean has his hands on it all of the time and it’s only when the younger man finally gets up from the table to grab a new beer that he’s finally able to draw up enough energy to pull the card out and toss it in Dean’s general direction.
Even then, the card mostly just falls to the floor like a piece of confetti.
Thankfully, Dean turns around just in time to see the card fall and after a pause to look around the room suspiciously, he picks it up and starts to dial his phone.
He’s damn happy with himself for managing to get Dean that number - at least he was able to do something for once.
Suddenly, he’s thinking about Sam again and as soon as he’s formed a whole thought about how he’s doing, he’s instantly back in the hospital room, trying to get his bearing back as the abrupt change in scenery makes him a little dizzy.
Once he’s oriented again, he sees that Sam is seated on the bed with his shoulders slumped in defeat as he stares forlornly at a sandwich that sits on a tray across the room. He doesn’t know what’s with the sandwich or why it’s making the young man look so dejected, but it seems to be a trigger that sets the exhausted boy off and from one moment to the next, his eyes fill with tears that slip freely down his face and fall unheeded onto his lap.
His heart might not be able to take much more of watching Sam deteriorate like this and he’s in tears himself when he tries several times to reach out and touch the kid and to lay a protective, soothing hand on his shoulder that might let him know that he’s there for him.
But touching inanimate objects is far easier than touching living people and most of his attempts just result in his hands passing right through Sam, no matter how hard he concentrates. And isn’t it just his luck that the one time he finally manages to make contact, Sam shivers violently and flinches away like he’s been burned by fire.
Whipping his head around the room, Sam’s eyes land on that same damned empty space in the corner that he’s been prone to addressing.
“Don’t touch me.” Sam spits out, his eyes tracking someone that only he can see.
Sam looks up like he’s watching someone approach him and suddenly, he’s grabbing his throat, making desperate choking noises, his face reddening and back arching off the bed as he tries to breathe.
“Dammit!” He jumps up, but he can’t do anything to pry the hands that aren’t really there off of Sam’s throat and he’s not sure if a hallucination can actually strangle the kid to death, but he really doesn’t want to find out.
Desperate to do something - anything - he does the only thing he can do and yells as loud as he can at Sam and the hallucinations that are torturing him.
“GODDAMMIT! THAT’S ENOUGH! “
But Sam can’t hear him and neither can he breathe - his lips are turning blue and he’s quickly losing consciousness.
He’s afraid that this is it - this is the part where he’s going to watch Sam die right in front of him and he’s powerless to stop it.
It’s at that moment that he feels an anger explode inside that rocks him from head to toe and a shout reverberates out from deep within his soul, releasing all of the frustration, anger and helplessness that’s been brewing within him since the day he died.
“STOPPIT!!!!!”
He’s surprised to hear his own voice echo off the walls.
Sam gasps at the same time and his back falls against the bed and bounces once on the springs. He heaves in great deep breaths while rubbing his throat and darting his eyes around the room. But this time the younger man isn’t flicking his sight back and forth in fear - for a moment, he looks confused, perhaps even hopeful.
Is it possible that Sam heard him?
He can only hope, but the young man is seeing and hearing a whole bunch of crap right now and he doesn’t think the kid, even if he did hear him, would ever think that he was real.
As if to prove that thought true, Sam’s face loses that flash of hope as he rolls onto his side, breathing heavily and completely spent. He wearily scans the room with tears continuing to spill from his eyes and whispers hoarsely, “Wish you were really here, Bobby.”
Taking a seat on the bed, he sighs with a heavy, despairing heart that wants nothing more than for the hand he’s passing through his boy’s hair to actually be felt, “I am here, ya idjit … and I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Saw you posting it just before I dashed out the door earlier. Totally worth the wait. It must indeed be agony for Bobby, to see clearly, but be able to be unable to affect the outcome.
The little business card that he wrote the guy’s name and number on is wedged in the fucking back of the book and for the last two hours he’s been focusing as hard as he can on getting it out. But the going is hard, especially when Dean has his hands on it all of the time and it’s only when the younger man finally gets up from the table to grab a new beer that he’s finally able to draw up enough energy to pull the card out and toss it in Dean’s general direction.
Even then, the card mostly just falls to the floor like a piece of confetti.
Thankfully, Dean turns around just in time to see the card fall and after a pause to look around the room suspiciously, he picks it up and starts to dial his phone.
He’s damn happy with himself for managing to get Dean that number - at least he was able to do something for once.
Suddenly, he’s thinking about Sam again and as soon as he’s formed a whole thought about how he’s doing, he’s instantly back in the hospital room, trying to get his bearing back as the abrupt change in scenery makes him a little dizzy.
Once he’s oriented again, he sees that Sam is seated on the bed with his shoulders slumped in defeat as he stares forlornly at a sandwich that sits on a tray across the room. He doesn’t know what’s with the sandwich or why it’s making the young man look so dejected, but it seems to be a trigger that sets the exhausted boy off and from one moment to the next, his eyes fill with tears that slip freely down his face and fall unheeded onto his lap.
His heart might not be able to take much more of watching Sam deteriorate like this and he’s in tears himself when he tries several times to reach out and touch the kid and to lay a protective, soothing hand on his shoulder that might let him know that he’s there for him.
But touching inanimate objects is far easier than touching living people and most of his attempts just result in his hands passing right through Sam, no matter how hard he concentrates. And isn’t it just his luck that the one time he finally manages to make contact, Sam shivers violently and flinches away like he’s been burned by fire.
Whipping his head around the room, Sam’s eyes land on that same damned empty space in the corner that he’s been prone to addressing.
“Don’t touch me.” Sam spits out, his eyes tracking someone that only he can see.
Sam looks up like he’s watching someone approach him and suddenly, he’s grabbing his throat, making desperate choking noises, his face reddening and back arching off the bed as he tries to breathe.
“Dammit!” He jumps up, but he can’t do anything to pry the hands that aren’t really there off of Sam’s throat and he’s not sure if a hallucination can actually strangle the kid to death, but he really doesn’t want to find out.
Desperate to do something - anything - he does the only thing he can do and yells as loud as he can at Sam and the hallucinations that are torturing him.
“GODDAMMIT! THAT’S ENOUGH! “
But Sam can’t hear him and neither can he breathe - his lips are turning blue and he’s quickly losing consciousness.
He’s afraid that this is it - this is the part where he’s going to watch Sam die right in front of him and he’s powerless to stop it.
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It’s at that moment that he feels an anger explode inside that rocks him from head to toe and a shout reverberates out from deep within his soul, releasing all of the frustration, anger and helplessness that’s been brewing within him since the day he died.
“STOPPIT!!!!!”
He’s surprised to hear his own voice echo off the walls.
Sam gasps at the same time and his back falls against the bed and bounces once on the springs. He heaves in great deep breaths while rubbing his throat and darting his eyes around the room. But this time the younger man isn’t flicking his sight back and forth in fear - for a moment, he looks confused, perhaps even hopeful.
Is it possible that Sam heard him?
He can only hope, but the young man is seeing and hearing a whole bunch of crap right now and he doesn’t think the kid, even if he did hear him, would ever think that he was real.
As if to prove that thought true, Sam’s face loses that flash of hope as he rolls onto his side, breathing heavily and completely spent. He wearily scans the room with tears continuing to spill from his eyes and whispers hoarsely, “Wish you were really here, Bobby.”
Taking a seat on the bed, he sighs with a heavy, despairing heart that wants nothing more than for the hand he’s passing through his boy’s hair to actually be felt, “I am here, ya idjit … and I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
The End
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Saw you posting it just before I dashed out the door earlier. Totally worth the wait. It must indeed be agony for Bobby, to see clearly, but be able to be unable to affect the outcome.
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