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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Sam felt warmth rising in his face, and he tried to control his breathing, calm himself. But that was hard to do with a bullet wound in your arm. It was also hard to do when your brother, standing right next to you, was on the verge of a panic attack. “Are you sure about this, Sam? I mean, that it’s gotta be a plane this time?”
“It’s that or take a ship from here to Egypt. And how many innocent people will the mummy have killed while that happens?”
Dean grimaced. It might be the best solution, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. If Sam felt any better, he would make a joke, try to calm Dean down, distract him, lighten the mood. But Dean was too worried right now to be his usual set. And, besides, Sam had something else to occupy his mind. The mummy’s commander had been good with a gun-too good. It had been a through and through, so at least the bullet wasn’t still there to set off the X-Ray machine.
Assuming they ever got to the X-Ray machine. Or anywhere even remotely near the X-Ray machine. The lines were unbearably long and unbelievably slow. It seemed like there were three hundred passengers for every one TSA agent. They kept running out of little baggies for the liquids to go into and bins for shoes and belts to go into.
Sam’s legs hurt from standing. He was used to sitting all day in the Impala or running after ghosts. All this standing around just to shuffle forward an inch at a time made his legs stiff.
He was thirsty, too, having ditched his soda when they got in line an hour ago. After the fight, Dean had stitched him up and forced some orange juice at him to help with the blood loss, but he hadn’t felt much like drinking at the time. He was regretting that now.
But the worst was the pain in his arm. Dean had patched him up as best he could, but it had been a rush job and it had been in the middle of the night by the headlights of the car with Sam sitting on the cooler and biting Dean’s bandana to keep from crying out or grinding his teeth at the pain. Sam had nearly passed out a few times, slumping forward. But it was important to keep upright so that the wound was above his heart, so that he didn’t die from excessive blood loss. And this hadn’t been Dean’s first rodeo.
Sam’s upper arm hurt terribly, despite the double dose of Aspirin Dean had given him. That medicine would be wearing off pretty soon, and Sam wasn’t so good at swallowing pills down dry. What he was more worried about, though, was the buzzing in his head and the dizzy, lightheadedness he felt. He put his duffel down, thinking that would help. But all it did was made him feel even lighter. Every step forward, he felt like he was swaying. Every time he stood still, his legs locked at the knees and he thought he might topple over.
Normally, Dean would be looking after him, fussing over him. But all Dean seemed to be able to think about was the flight. How much he didn’t want to get on the plane. How much he hated planes. How maybe letting a mummy remain on the loose wasn’t such a bad idea after all. In the end, though, they booked their tickets and got into the long line snaking its way to the airport security gate. That’s as far as they’d gotten. It seemed like maybe it was as far as they’d be able to go. Sam suspected Crowley was behind this; airport security lines this long had to be demonic in nature. And they didn’t have anything to protect themselves. Their weapons were all locked up tight in the trunk of the Impala, parked in the airport’s long-term lot, so there was no knife, no colt, no any of that. No holy water except a tiny little bit of it poured into a mini Head & Shoulders shampoo bottle. No fire-starting tools, not that they’d be able to do a salt and burn in the middle of a busy airport. Not again.
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“This is gonna be the last time, though, right Sam? I mean, apart from the return trip home, of course. But after this, no more airplanes ever. Not for anything. Agreed?”
Whatever it took to make Dean feel better, Sam was happy to agree to. “Sure. Just…” He grinned. “Just tell that to the demons. I’m sure they’ll buy it and follow your wishes. They’ve always been so good at doing that for us. Anything for the… the good ol’ Winchester boys… ”
“Fine!” Dean grumbled. “But no more flights for a long, long time. Agreed?”
That much, Sam could agree to. The way Dean drove, sometimes it was faster than going someplace by plane anyway, especially when you took into consideration airport security lines like these.
A sudden but not entirely unexpected wave of dizziness washed over him, and Sam wished he had a hard-sided suitcase to sit on or something sturdier than retractable stanchions to lean against. The world began to spin, so he closed his eyes, squeezing them tight, hoping this feeling would pass on its own. If he passed out now, everyone would see. He’d be rushed out of line, off to the side. Medical personnel would be called. And then, when he went to get back in line, he’d have to start all the way in the back. At the moment, Sam couldn’t think of anything worse than that.
“Hey,” Dean nudged him, a sharp elbow stabbing at Sam’s ribcage. “Does that TSA officer up there look like Cas to you?”
Sam tried to open his eyes, but he felt too weak and lightheaded to make his eyelids move at all.
This time, Dean noticed. “Sam? Sammy?”
“I… I feel dizzy…”
Dean reached out, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders and whispering. “Lean on me. There. That’s it.” Sam hadn’t realized how much he had needed those words until just then. He hadn’t realized how close he was to passing out either. The world went black around him when he tried to open his eyes. But Dean held him up. Dean grunted at the weight, but he managed to keep both of them upright and, miraculously, inching forward in line.
Finally, the dizzy spell passed and Sam opened one cautious eye then the other. Though they had moved forward in line only a little bit. There were still probably hundreds of people ahead of them. Sam wasn’t sure he was going to make it. He shivered and tried to ignore the nausea now creeping up on him. Sam took a deep breath and focused his thoughts. “Which TSA officer?”
Dean pointed him out, and Sam was a bit taken aback. The man looked exactly like Castiel or, at least, like Jimmy, if Jimmy had decided to become a TSA officer instead of a vessel for an angel of the Lord.
“Hey, Sam. Are you sure about this? You’re going to make it, right? ‘Cause if you’re not sure, we don’t have to do this.”
That sounded a little more like protective, big brother Dean now. “Nice try, Dean. But we’re getting on that plane to Egypt, no matter what.” Then Sam put every ounce of strength into making that happen. He would just have to concentrate on one thing at a time. First, not passing out while standing in line. Second, not wincing when he raised his arms up for the body scan. And, third, not letting his brother hyperventilate during the plane ride. That wasn’t too much for Sam to hope for, was it?
Endnote: I couldn’t resist throwing in that the nod to TSA America: Level Orange
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A really enjoyable read. Thank you for sharing :)
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I love the idea of TSA compliant holy water. :)
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Ha! This is great, love all the little details like this! :-D
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