Heroes
Title: Heroes
Prompt/Summary: Written for the Sam-focused h/c fic challenge, from a prompt by brokenangel6662 . Prompt is here. What happens when you meet a legend?
Rating: PG
Genre/Pairing: Gen
Characters: Sam, Dean, OC
Word Count: 3286
Spoilers: Season 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural
Author's Note: I have done precisely one comment fic, and now one challenge fic. I'm a little nervous! No prompt survives contact with the writer- this went it's own direction! Beta'd by the fabulous caluk !
Mom told me stories about the Winchester brothers as far back as I could remember. I was afraid of a monster in my closet, and she would tell me about how Sam and Dean came and used their guns filled with rock salt to take out all the monsters. Then Sam used his magic to make sure that the monsters wouldn’t ever come back. As I grew older, the stories got more adventurous- sometimes even scary. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts, the Winchesters took them all on, and came out the heroes. In second grade, the girls were all screaming that they saw Bloody Mary in the girl’s bathroom and wouldn’t go in there the whole day. We boys spent the whole day daring each other to go into the girl’s bathroom to try to see Bloody Mary, or to try to grab the girls and push them in just to see them freak out. When I told my mother, she just smiled and said it couldn’t have really happened because Sam and Dean faced down Bloody Mary, and killed her forever. That game wouldn’t ever hurt anyone ever again. Some boys grew up with Spiderman or Superman as their hero, but I had two brothers in a beat up old Impala to always save the day.
“They saved the world, you know.” Mom told me one day as she was doing dishes. I was sitting at the table with peanut butter sandwich and some milk, and just out of the blue, she started her story. “It was the end of days, the final war between heaven and hell, and earth was the battleground. All the things in the Bible when they talk about the last days, it was all happening. People were dying. In the end, it came down to Sam and Dean standing between us and the forces of darkness. They saved the day, and stopped the earth from being destroyed. They saved us all.”
We didn’t play cops and robbers or cowboys and Indians or Jedi vs the Empire. The boys in MY neighborhood would play Winchesters and demons. It was a great game because demons could possess people so at any time your allegiance could switch from good to evil. We had rules over when someone could be possessed or not. If you were tagged by a demon, you were possessed. You could get a tattoo, which was a leaf from a tree you could stick in your pocket, but it was only allowed to protect you once, then you had to throw it away. If someone from team Winchester said “In nominee patre” (I don’t remember who looked up the latin words, but these were the only ones anybody could remember and say easily) three times then tagged a demon, it was exorcised and turned back into a Winchester.
Mom had a whole set of the books she kept on a shelf in her room. Some guy named Carver Edlund wrote them- all about the Winchesters. She wouldn’t let me read them for a long time because she said they were for grownups. But that didn’t stop me from looking at them. She’d go to her ladies Tupperware parties, or church things, and Susie was a sucky babysitter who just talked on the phone with her friends or her stupid boyfriend. She didn’t care what I was doing so long as I didn’t bother her. So I would sneak into her room and read them. I was always careful to put them back exactly in order the way she liked. I even read the sex parts. I showed the books to my best friend once, but Mom came home from the store sooner than we thought, and we didn’t get a chance to really read anything. I told him about it, though. We hated it that you couldn’t get the books at our library. I guess they were out of print forever or something.
They were legends, heroes, larger than life. They went to hell and came back. They went to heaven, and came back. Angels served them, and demons feared them. I never thought I would ever meet them, but I did. The chance of a lifetime, and it was filled with blood.
I was on my way home late from school- simple as that. It was a crisp autumn day, and my backpack was slapping against my back as I walked- not too heavy with books this Friday afternoon. It was getting dark earlier and earlier, and already things were taking on a rosy hue as the sun was going down. I was thinking about school. I had one week left of the quarter, and I still didn’t think that I would be able to get everything finished for English. My teacher said she thought I was going to do just fine if I did an hour of work or so a day, but it was a lot of writing. I was never going to pull my grade up.
I have to admit I was starting to get tired as I turned off onto Lund Street. Still a mile or so away from home, and I was winded. Well, I wasn’t going to let Mom know that she was right, and I wasn’t ready for this kind of exercise. I was out for the rest of football season, but Coach said I might be able to have a chance to make the team for basketball in a few months, and I really wanted to get in shape. I knew a shortcut or two, and if I cut through by the canal, and crossed behind Thacker’s old barn, I’d shave off a quarter of a mile. As long as Thacker didn’t catch me, no one would ever know. The canal was surrounded by trees and brush, a break in the monotony of fields and houses. It was a great place to walk, except that most parents were afraid of DRUG DEALERS and forbade the kids to ever go there, my own Mom included. I’d been there plenty of times, forbidden or not, and I never saw any drug dealers. I saw a couple of classmates making out there once, but that was it.
That’s why I was surprised when I came across the car. It was tucked in among the trees and brush, pretty well hidden actually, except that this was where Thacker’s property started, and I veered off the canal path to cut into his fields. I thought maybe my Mom had been right about drug dealers, as I stumbled across the black car. Then I saw what kind of car it was. Impala. Old muscle car. No. Freaking. Way. I wondered if there was a way to find out what year it was, if it really could be THE Impala. Right. Like THE Impala would ever be here. I couldn’t help myself. I ran my hands over the vintage body, marveling at what I was seeing. This was a thing of beauty! I wondered if it still ran, it was so ancient, but I figured it had to get here somehow. I glanced in the windows, and didn’t see much of interest- a few crumpled up fast food bags, a box of old cassette tapes on the floor. The license plates were gone, which was a little weird, but other than that, nothing that screamed getaway car for criminals or anything. Wow. I was only two months away from getting my license. What I wouldn’t give to have wheels like this. I would have stayed to admire it longer, but I still needed to get home.
Thacker had owned this land forever, but in the last year, he’d gotten too old to be able to work it. He rented some of his fields out to other farmers to plant, but most of it just lay fallow. Time was, the guys and I used to cross behind the barn as a shortcut all the time, but when Mike ended up knocking down some fencing while he was horsing around and being a jerk, a few calls to our folks put an end to it. This was the first time I’d crossed the field in a couple of years. It looked different. Empty. Farm equipment sat around unused, and even the rows of neatly planted fruit trees were untouched- the fruit fermenting on the ground and attracting gnats. I hated seeing it like this. I planned on getting a job in the city this summer, or else I’d see if he’d be willing to pay for help. I couldn’t do both, though.
The barn was in great shape in spite of its age. Gray, weatherworn boards made the simple structure. Some of the older barns were collapsed, dangerous looking things, but this had been well made and stood the test of time. There were two entrances, both with big wide doors that opened up big enough to let some of the machinery through. Thacker didn’t really keep livestock, at least not anymore. A few chickens is all, so the barn simply held farm equipment.
As I got close to the barn, I froze as I heard a crashing sound inside the building. I didn’t think anyone was out here, and I really didn’t want to get caught. I did not want to have to explain things to him or my mother. I waited several seconds, but didn’t hear the noise again. It was probably a cat. Farms like this had strays all over the place. As I moved forward again, however, I caught sight of some dark stains over by the barn door. Oil stains were normal, but these stains were a brownish red color and it fell in drip patterns on the hard packed dirt. Was that….blood?
I don’t know why I opened that barn door. It was stupid - I was already going to be in trouble if I was caught trespassing, but I was worried someone might be hurt. I was right to worry. The door was held closed by a board that rested in slots- it wasn’t any big deal to remove the board, and let the doors swing toward me, light slowly filtering in to the dark of the barn. There was more blood inside the door. At first glance, everything seemed to be normal - big tractor, tools hanging on hooks along the wall, boxes, dust. There was a groan off to my left. I thought suddenly about maybe grabbing a shovel or something to protect myself, but figured my backpack was heavy enough. I pulled it off of my shoulders, ready to swing it at somebody.
“Hello?” I said cautiously. “Mr. Thacker? Is that you?” There was a scuffle off in the shadows.
Someone coughed, and a voice rasped, “Here.”
I followed the sound. Behind the tractor, back behind some boxes, and I could see them.
There were two men. One was tied up to one of the barn poles, legs splayed out on the ground. He was hurt, there was a bit of blood dripping down from his nose and over his lips, and one eye looked puffy and bruised. He had dark hair, and a leather jacket. The other one….the other one was nailed to the wall through his hands. I couldn’t see his face, because his head was slumped forward, and his longer hair hung down over his forehead. He was standing, but I’m not sure he was conscious, because he sagged at the knees. He was shirtless, and his torso was covered with dark bruises, and lines of shallow cuts. It had to hurt.
The worst part? I knew them. Even all beat up like this, how could I not know them? I read all their books, had heard all the stories, had seen the pictures. The black car made sense now. These were the Winchesters. Right here, in the flesh. In the bleeding flesh…
I started digging in my pocket for my cell phone. I doubted I would get coverage out here, but I needed to call for help! It took me a few seconds before I realized that one of them…Dean….he was talking to me. His voice was dry and raspy and he was clearly out of it.
“No. Kid. Don’t call. There’s not much time….check on Sammy for me….”
Sammy. Wow. Not really the kind of nickname I’d give to the guy who was Lucifer and had been to hell, and had saved the world. I found myself suddenly really nervous to approach Sam Winchester. He was deadly, and used to drink demon blood, and was psychic. I used to draw pictures of him on my school notebooks, all flaming eyes and covered in blood. He was still covered in blood, and he was really tall, but he didn’t look that scary. He looked beaten. I didn’t want to touch him, but I brushed the hair away from his face, my hand shaking so bad I almost hit him. There was blood at his temple, caking in his hair, I could see pain lines etched in his face, even unconscious as he was. I was surprised to notice a bit of gray streaking his hair, and fine lines around his eyes. I just never pictured the Winchesters as getting older, somehow. He was breathing shallowly.
“He’s breathing, Mr. Winchester.” I said, and I heard Dean sigh with relief. If he was surprised that I knew his name, he didn’t say anything. Lots of people knew their name.
“Okay, kid, help get me loose.” I ended up having to go find an axe hanging on the shelf to cut the ropes. Then I needed to help him up and we limped over to Sam. Dean examined him carefully, “It might be best that he stays unconscious for this. We’ve got to get him down.” He looked at me, and I understood why an archangel would want him to be his vessel. It couldn’t be just bloodline like the stories said. Even with the lines and creases that suggested a hard life, he had a force of will that I hadn’t seen in this town. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Brian.” I stammered.
“Right. Brian, we have to get those nails out of Sam’s hands, and we have to get out of here before those hunters decide for real what they want to do with us.”
Wait. “Hunters did this?” I asked in surprise.
Dean laughed humorlessly, “They’ve already tried killing us, but we keep coming back. They didn’t dare try it again. They didn’t expect us here. We took each other by surprise, really, or they wouldn’t have been able to do this to us. They won’t have a chance to do it again.”
I looked at the blood running down Sam’s palms. The nails were heavy duty spikes- not quite like railroad spikes, but still beefy. “Why didn’t they do this to you?”
“I was just too pretty.” Dean said with a sudden grin that quickly faded as he looked at me over. He cleared his throat. “Sam...said yes to some things that the hunters weren’t happy about. Help me find something that will pull these nails out.” Sam said yes to Lucifer. That’s what he meant. Or maybe said yes to breaking the last seal and starting the apocalypse in the first place. Maybe all of it. I thought I might throw up for a second, but I held it together.
We ended up finding a crowbar. Sam woke up as we began to pry the nails out of the wall. He cried out, gritting his teeth in pain. “Sammy, let me do this, you’re going to be fine….” Dean kept murmuring to him as we worked. I don’t think I had ever seen anybody in that much pain before. He was sweating like crazy as the nails slowly came out from the wall. As soon as he was free, he collapsed on the ground, sobbing with relief. Dean didn’t say anything, he just grimly draped his leather jacket over Sam’s bare shoulders. Sam winced as the leather touched the myriad cuts, but he was shaking so much from shock, I know he needed it. Dean knelt down beside him, murmuring over and over again in a soft voice you use for wounded animals “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Finally Sam’s breathing calmed down, and Dean asked, “Can you walk? We got to get out of here, and find the car.”
“I know where it is.” I said suddenly. “They hid it in the trees just on the other side of the field.”
Dean nodded, “Then across the field it is.”
Sam nodded and Dean motioned for me to take Sam’s other side, as we started to help him up, his arms draped around our shoulders, Sam looked at me with pain filled eyes. He looked confused for a moment, and turned to Dean questioningly.
“This is Brian. He came to rescue us.”
Sam nodded, then winced as the movement hurt him, “Maybe you should go get the car and come back for me” he groaned softly.
“No. No way, Sammy. I’m not letting them come back here and find you alone.” Dean looked suddenly angry.
“I can stay with him.” I volunteered weakly.
Dean shook his head, “No way I’m leaving either of you here. We can do this.”
Sam looked at me, his eyes a haze of pain, “Can you do this?” he asked softly.
What? How did he…? Maybe there was something to the rumors and stories of him being psychic, I don’t know. Dean looked at me questioningly, and I shrugged, “I’m just getting over Mono. Don’t tell my Mom I’m doing this.” I took my place at Sam’s side.
It was probably a mistake, because the trek across the field was longer than I thought it would be, and I was sweaty and trembling by the time it was finished. Soon, however, they had jimmied the lock on the door, found an extra set of car keys, and had Sam curled up on the passenger side of the car. Dean closed the passenger side door, and turned to look at me. Dean gave me a nod, “Brian, thanks for your help, man. I’m going to get Sam to a doctor.”
“What about you?” I asked.
He shrugged, “I’ve had worse.” He threw me a cocky grin, and moved around to the passenger side.
This was it. This was my last chance to say something to these guys. They were legends, man. My superheroes, and I wasn’t going to let them go without saying so.
“Thank you.” I said. “I-uh- I’ve heard all your stories, and I know you guys saved the world, and, well, I figured someone ought to say thank you.” I blushed, knowing I sounded like an idiot.
Dean smiled with surprise, not really sure what to say, “Get home safe, kid.” And he got in the car.
I waved, and turned to hurry home. It was starting to get dark, and I was in big trouble. I overheard Dean saying something to Sam as he closed the car door.
“Sam, it’s okay, we’ll get you to the doctor, then I’m going to hunt those SOB’s down.”
He said it almost like he was looking forward to it.
I watch the news, and look for stories about them. Lots of people tell stories about how the Winchesters help them- save them from the monsters. They tell stories about psychic powers, and inhuman strength. I remember two very tired, worn, beat up and bloody guys. They never mention that part. I think it makes them even better heroes.
Prompt/Summary: Written for the Sam-focused h/c fic challenge, from a prompt by brokenangel6662 . Prompt is here. What happens when you meet a legend?
Rating: PG
Genre/Pairing: Gen
Characters: Sam, Dean, OC
Word Count: 3286
Spoilers: Season 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural
Author's Note: I have done precisely one comment fic, and now one challenge fic. I'm a little nervous! No prompt survives contact with the writer- this went it's own direction! Beta'd by the fabulous caluk !
Mom told me stories about the Winchester brothers as far back as I could remember. I was afraid of a monster in my closet, and she would tell me about how Sam and Dean came and used their guns filled with rock salt to take out all the monsters. Then Sam used his magic to make sure that the monsters wouldn’t ever come back. As I grew older, the stories got more adventurous- sometimes even scary. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts, the Winchesters took them all on, and came out the heroes. In second grade, the girls were all screaming that they saw Bloody Mary in the girl’s bathroom and wouldn’t go in there the whole day. We boys spent the whole day daring each other to go into the girl’s bathroom to try to see Bloody Mary, or to try to grab the girls and push them in just to see them freak out. When I told my mother, she just smiled and said it couldn’t have really happened because Sam and Dean faced down Bloody Mary, and killed her forever. That game wouldn’t ever hurt anyone ever again. Some boys grew up with Spiderman or Superman as their hero, but I had two brothers in a beat up old Impala to always save the day.
“They saved the world, you know.” Mom told me one day as she was doing dishes. I was sitting at the table with peanut butter sandwich and some milk, and just out of the blue, she started her story. “It was the end of days, the final war between heaven and hell, and earth was the battleground. All the things in the Bible when they talk about the last days, it was all happening. People were dying. In the end, it came down to Sam and Dean standing between us and the forces of darkness. They saved the day, and stopped the earth from being destroyed. They saved us all.”
We didn’t play cops and robbers or cowboys and Indians or Jedi vs the Empire. The boys in MY neighborhood would play Winchesters and demons. It was a great game because demons could possess people so at any time your allegiance could switch from good to evil. We had rules over when someone could be possessed or not. If you were tagged by a demon, you were possessed. You could get a tattoo, which was a leaf from a tree you could stick in your pocket, but it was only allowed to protect you once, then you had to throw it away. If someone from team Winchester said “In nominee patre” (I don’t remember who looked up the latin words, but these were the only ones anybody could remember and say easily) three times then tagged a demon, it was exorcised and turned back into a Winchester.
Mom had a whole set of the books she kept on a shelf in her room. Some guy named Carver Edlund wrote them- all about the Winchesters. She wouldn’t let me read them for a long time because she said they were for grownups. But that didn’t stop me from looking at them. She’d go to her ladies Tupperware parties, or church things, and Susie was a sucky babysitter who just talked on the phone with her friends or her stupid boyfriend. She didn’t care what I was doing so long as I didn’t bother her. So I would sneak into her room and read them. I was always careful to put them back exactly in order the way she liked. I even read the sex parts. I showed the books to my best friend once, but Mom came home from the store sooner than we thought, and we didn’t get a chance to really read anything. I told him about it, though. We hated it that you couldn’t get the books at our library. I guess they were out of print forever or something.
They were legends, heroes, larger than life. They went to hell and came back. They went to heaven, and came back. Angels served them, and demons feared them. I never thought I would ever meet them, but I did. The chance of a lifetime, and it was filled with blood.
I was on my way home late from school- simple as that. It was a crisp autumn day, and my backpack was slapping against my back as I walked- not too heavy with books this Friday afternoon. It was getting dark earlier and earlier, and already things were taking on a rosy hue as the sun was going down. I was thinking about school. I had one week left of the quarter, and I still didn’t think that I would be able to get everything finished for English. My teacher said she thought I was going to do just fine if I did an hour of work or so a day, but it was a lot of writing. I was never going to pull my grade up.
I have to admit I was starting to get tired as I turned off onto Lund Street. Still a mile or so away from home, and I was winded. Well, I wasn’t going to let Mom know that she was right, and I wasn’t ready for this kind of exercise. I was out for the rest of football season, but Coach said I might be able to have a chance to make the team for basketball in a few months, and I really wanted to get in shape. I knew a shortcut or two, and if I cut through by the canal, and crossed behind Thacker’s old barn, I’d shave off a quarter of a mile. As long as Thacker didn’t catch me, no one would ever know. The canal was surrounded by trees and brush, a break in the monotony of fields and houses. It was a great place to walk, except that most parents were afraid of DRUG DEALERS and forbade the kids to ever go there, my own Mom included. I’d been there plenty of times, forbidden or not, and I never saw any drug dealers. I saw a couple of classmates making out there once, but that was it.
That’s why I was surprised when I came across the car. It was tucked in among the trees and brush, pretty well hidden actually, except that this was where Thacker’s property started, and I veered off the canal path to cut into his fields. I thought maybe my Mom had been right about drug dealers, as I stumbled across the black car. Then I saw what kind of car it was. Impala. Old muscle car. No. Freaking. Way. I wondered if there was a way to find out what year it was, if it really could be THE Impala. Right. Like THE Impala would ever be here. I couldn’t help myself. I ran my hands over the vintage body, marveling at what I was seeing. This was a thing of beauty! I wondered if it still ran, it was so ancient, but I figured it had to get here somehow. I glanced in the windows, and didn’t see much of interest- a few crumpled up fast food bags, a box of old cassette tapes on the floor. The license plates were gone, which was a little weird, but other than that, nothing that screamed getaway car for criminals or anything. Wow. I was only two months away from getting my license. What I wouldn’t give to have wheels like this. I would have stayed to admire it longer, but I still needed to get home.
Thacker had owned this land forever, but in the last year, he’d gotten too old to be able to work it. He rented some of his fields out to other farmers to plant, but most of it just lay fallow. Time was, the guys and I used to cross behind the barn as a shortcut all the time, but when Mike ended up knocking down some fencing while he was horsing around and being a jerk, a few calls to our folks put an end to it. This was the first time I’d crossed the field in a couple of years. It looked different. Empty. Farm equipment sat around unused, and even the rows of neatly planted fruit trees were untouched- the fruit fermenting on the ground and attracting gnats. I hated seeing it like this. I planned on getting a job in the city this summer, or else I’d see if he’d be willing to pay for help. I couldn’t do both, though.
The barn was in great shape in spite of its age. Gray, weatherworn boards made the simple structure. Some of the older barns were collapsed, dangerous looking things, but this had been well made and stood the test of time. There were two entrances, both with big wide doors that opened up big enough to let some of the machinery through. Thacker didn’t really keep livestock, at least not anymore. A few chickens is all, so the barn simply held farm equipment.
As I got close to the barn, I froze as I heard a crashing sound inside the building. I didn’t think anyone was out here, and I really didn’t want to get caught. I did not want to have to explain things to him or my mother. I waited several seconds, but didn’t hear the noise again. It was probably a cat. Farms like this had strays all over the place. As I moved forward again, however, I caught sight of some dark stains over by the barn door. Oil stains were normal, but these stains were a brownish red color and it fell in drip patterns on the hard packed dirt. Was that….blood?
I don’t know why I opened that barn door. It was stupid - I was already going to be in trouble if I was caught trespassing, but I was worried someone might be hurt. I was right to worry. The door was held closed by a board that rested in slots- it wasn’t any big deal to remove the board, and let the doors swing toward me, light slowly filtering in to the dark of the barn. There was more blood inside the door. At first glance, everything seemed to be normal - big tractor, tools hanging on hooks along the wall, boxes, dust. There was a groan off to my left. I thought suddenly about maybe grabbing a shovel or something to protect myself, but figured my backpack was heavy enough. I pulled it off of my shoulders, ready to swing it at somebody.
“Hello?” I said cautiously. “Mr. Thacker? Is that you?” There was a scuffle off in the shadows.
Someone coughed, and a voice rasped, “Here.”
I followed the sound. Behind the tractor, back behind some boxes, and I could see them.
There were two men. One was tied up to one of the barn poles, legs splayed out on the ground. He was hurt, there was a bit of blood dripping down from his nose and over his lips, and one eye looked puffy and bruised. He had dark hair, and a leather jacket. The other one….the other one was nailed to the wall through his hands. I couldn’t see his face, because his head was slumped forward, and his longer hair hung down over his forehead. He was standing, but I’m not sure he was conscious, because he sagged at the knees. He was shirtless, and his torso was covered with dark bruises, and lines of shallow cuts. It had to hurt.
The worst part? I knew them. Even all beat up like this, how could I not know them? I read all their books, had heard all the stories, had seen the pictures. The black car made sense now. These were the Winchesters. Right here, in the flesh. In the bleeding flesh…
I started digging in my pocket for my cell phone. I doubted I would get coverage out here, but I needed to call for help! It took me a few seconds before I realized that one of them…Dean….he was talking to me. His voice was dry and raspy and he was clearly out of it.
“No. Kid. Don’t call. There’s not much time….check on Sammy for me….”
Sammy. Wow. Not really the kind of nickname I’d give to the guy who was Lucifer and had been to hell, and had saved the world. I found myself suddenly really nervous to approach Sam Winchester. He was deadly, and used to drink demon blood, and was psychic. I used to draw pictures of him on my school notebooks, all flaming eyes and covered in blood. He was still covered in blood, and he was really tall, but he didn’t look that scary. He looked beaten. I didn’t want to touch him, but I brushed the hair away from his face, my hand shaking so bad I almost hit him. There was blood at his temple, caking in his hair, I could see pain lines etched in his face, even unconscious as he was. I was surprised to notice a bit of gray streaking his hair, and fine lines around his eyes. I just never pictured the Winchesters as getting older, somehow. He was breathing shallowly.
“He’s breathing, Mr. Winchester.” I said, and I heard Dean sigh with relief. If he was surprised that I knew his name, he didn’t say anything. Lots of people knew their name.
“Okay, kid, help get me loose.” I ended up having to go find an axe hanging on the shelf to cut the ropes. Then I needed to help him up and we limped over to Sam. Dean examined him carefully, “It might be best that he stays unconscious for this. We’ve got to get him down.” He looked at me, and I understood why an archangel would want him to be his vessel. It couldn’t be just bloodline like the stories said. Even with the lines and creases that suggested a hard life, he had a force of will that I hadn’t seen in this town. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Brian.” I stammered.
“Right. Brian, we have to get those nails out of Sam’s hands, and we have to get out of here before those hunters decide for real what they want to do with us.”
Wait. “Hunters did this?” I asked in surprise.
Dean laughed humorlessly, “They’ve already tried killing us, but we keep coming back. They didn’t dare try it again. They didn’t expect us here. We took each other by surprise, really, or they wouldn’t have been able to do this to us. They won’t have a chance to do it again.”
I looked at the blood running down Sam’s palms. The nails were heavy duty spikes- not quite like railroad spikes, but still beefy. “Why didn’t they do this to you?”
“I was just too pretty.” Dean said with a sudden grin that quickly faded as he looked at me over. He cleared his throat. “Sam...said yes to some things that the hunters weren’t happy about. Help me find something that will pull these nails out.” Sam said yes to Lucifer. That’s what he meant. Or maybe said yes to breaking the last seal and starting the apocalypse in the first place. Maybe all of it. I thought I might throw up for a second, but I held it together.
We ended up finding a crowbar. Sam woke up as we began to pry the nails out of the wall. He cried out, gritting his teeth in pain. “Sammy, let me do this, you’re going to be fine….” Dean kept murmuring to him as we worked. I don’t think I had ever seen anybody in that much pain before. He was sweating like crazy as the nails slowly came out from the wall. As soon as he was free, he collapsed on the ground, sobbing with relief. Dean didn’t say anything, he just grimly draped his leather jacket over Sam’s bare shoulders. Sam winced as the leather touched the myriad cuts, but he was shaking so much from shock, I know he needed it. Dean knelt down beside him, murmuring over and over again in a soft voice you use for wounded animals “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Finally Sam’s breathing calmed down, and Dean asked, “Can you walk? We got to get out of here, and find the car.”
“I know where it is.” I said suddenly. “They hid it in the trees just on the other side of the field.”
Dean nodded, “Then across the field it is.”
Sam nodded and Dean motioned for me to take Sam’s other side, as we started to help him up, his arms draped around our shoulders, Sam looked at me with pain filled eyes. He looked confused for a moment, and turned to Dean questioningly.
“This is Brian. He came to rescue us.”
Sam nodded, then winced as the movement hurt him, “Maybe you should go get the car and come back for me” he groaned softly.
“No. No way, Sammy. I’m not letting them come back here and find you alone.” Dean looked suddenly angry.
“I can stay with him.” I volunteered weakly.
Dean shook his head, “No way I’m leaving either of you here. We can do this.”
Sam looked at me, his eyes a haze of pain, “Can you do this?” he asked softly.
What? How did he…? Maybe there was something to the rumors and stories of him being psychic, I don’t know. Dean looked at me questioningly, and I shrugged, “I’m just getting over Mono. Don’t tell my Mom I’m doing this.” I took my place at Sam’s side.
It was probably a mistake, because the trek across the field was longer than I thought it would be, and I was sweaty and trembling by the time it was finished. Soon, however, they had jimmied the lock on the door, found an extra set of car keys, and had Sam curled up on the passenger side of the car. Dean closed the passenger side door, and turned to look at me. Dean gave me a nod, “Brian, thanks for your help, man. I’m going to get Sam to a doctor.”
“What about you?” I asked.
He shrugged, “I’ve had worse.” He threw me a cocky grin, and moved around to the passenger side.
This was it. This was my last chance to say something to these guys. They were legends, man. My superheroes, and I wasn’t going to let them go without saying so.
“Thank you.” I said. “I-uh- I’ve heard all your stories, and I know you guys saved the world, and, well, I figured someone ought to say thank you.” I blushed, knowing I sounded like an idiot.
Dean smiled with surprise, not really sure what to say, “Get home safe, kid.” And he got in the car.
I waved, and turned to hurry home. It was starting to get dark, and I was in big trouble. I overheard Dean saying something to Sam as he closed the car door.
“Sam, it’s okay, we’ll get you to the doctor, then I’m going to hunt those SOB’s down.”
He said it almost like he was looking forward to it.
I watch the news, and look for stories about them. Lots of people tell stories about how the Winchesters help them- save them from the monsters. They tell stories about psychic powers, and inhuman strength. I remember two very tired, worn, beat up and bloody guys. They never mention that part. I think it makes them even better heroes.