OhSam Triple Play 2015!
The comm hosted this little event a couple of years ago, and as November 2 is an auspicious day for our darling Sam, today would be the perfect time to revisit this challenge. Welcome to the Triple Play 2015!
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It's not a shout, not a command, it's a statement. Spoken almost softly and if Sam could lift his head, he's sure Dean would wear this earnest look, the private one that nearly no-one ever gets to see, but Sam knows it well. It's the we're-at-the-end-of-the-line look, the I'm-proud-of-us one, and Sam's heart thumps hard against his ribcage because he can't deal with those memories, not right now.
Not ever.
"C'mon," Dean says, "c'mon, just grab it!"
Now there's desperation bleeding into the words and Sam hates it when Dean sounds like that, hates it even more if Sam himself is the cause for the distress, and he would like nothing more than do what Dean asks of him, he honestly would, but.
"Can't," he says, eyes still screwed shut, "fuck, Dean, I. I can't."
"It's right there," Dean says, "right there. You just gotta grab it!"
Sam opens his eyes at that, squints at the murky beam of Dean's flashlight, and sure enough, there's a rope dangling to his right. He sees it out of the corner of his eyes. It's close enough to almost brush his side and Sam thinks that this must be the most ironic way to die for him yet.
He doesn't know how to break the news to Dean. Doesn't want him to think that Sam's given up, that he's leaving Dean by any measure of Sam's own will, but fuck if he has a choice here.
"Shoulder," Sam finally says, swallows against the rising nausea, follows up with, "it's busted again."
And it is. His right arm hangs limply at his side, pins and needles chasing each other all the way to his fingertips. Hot poker through his shoulder with every little twitch of his body. Nerves all around it misfiring, worse than the first time around. Dislocated for sure, maybe more. There was a distinct pop when he went over, trying to hold on to whatever he could grab, and Sam's not sure he didn't tear something vital there.
Whatever he did, his right side is useless. And he doesn't want to risk just going for the rope with his left, isn't sure he'll get a grip before plummeting both him and the dead weight clinging to him down into the river. Isn't sure he could come up again, what with just one working shoulder and the blob still attached.
Above, Dean must have come to similar conclusions because he swears under his breath and Sam sees the rope zipping up and out of his line of sight. He can't exactly look where it's going, though, can't see what's happening above at all, because the pain is kinda manageable if he stays very, very still. It's still excrutiating. But it's not crippling and he's able to hold on through it and that has to be enough, because.
Because.
Right now, there's only one way to go and that's down.
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