Amaurosis: Chapter-4b
(Part 4b)
Sam
Sam leaned back against the seat and rested his head against the window as they made the long drive to Black-Ridge, Colorado. Dean had filled him in on the details of the hunt at breakfast and explained to him just what a Wendigo was. And while he wasn’t all that keen on joining Roy and Walt on this hunt; he couldn’t deny that these creatures needed to be put down.
He didn’t know what made him sit up suddenly, demanding Dean to ‘Pull over’.
“Sammy?” He heard the unspecific concern in the hunter’s voice, felt the change in terrain as the Impala coasted to a slow stop along the side of the road; but all he could focus on was the soup of terror and confusion roiling inside him.
“You gonna throw up, Kiddo?” Dean’s palm was warm against his nape as his thumb brushed the spot lightly, soothing him like a spooked animal.
He shook his head slowly.
“Alright then; can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“I-I don’t know,” he confessed miserably, leaning into the warm hand that had slipped from his nape to his shoulder.
“O-kay,” Dean said slowly and Sam could feel the wheels turning in the hunters mind as he tried to figure it out. “Why don’t you tell me what’s gotten you so panicked...? Can you do that for me, Sammy?”
He shrugged, “I don’t know; I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no... It’s fine Kiddo,” the hunter reassured, his other hand coming up to hold the hand curled on his lap and squeeze gently. “Why don’t you try describing what exactly you are feeling... think you can manage that?”
“Confused,” Sam admitted in a whisper, “I- I don’t know what’s wrong...”
“Its fine, its fine... you’re doing great. “ Dean comforted, “So you’re confused... because... you don’t know why you asked me to stop?”
He shrugged, repeating, “I don’t know what’s wrong...”
“What else are you feeling?”
“Terrified?”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know...”
“Huh,” Dean’s response surprised him.
“What?”
“Sammy, why don’t you try using your powers for a minute... Maybe that’ll help you figure this out...?”
He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it himself, after all before meeting Dean that had been his usual reaction to any sort of threat or confusion.
Sam couldn’t remember when he had stopped trying to figure everything out by himself... when he’d started relying on Dean to help him out instead. Obediently closing his eyes he loosened the control on that part of himself, his mind immediately filling with images of terror as something flickering attacked him. Breathing raggedly, he pulled back from the situation, allowing himself a chance to take in the surroundings and not focus on the threat.
“Well?” Dean’s voice cut through the turbulent images, drawing him back to the real world like a lighthouse guiding a lost ship.
“It’s a spirit.”
“Where?”
“In town,” He shrugged, “A big house, tree in the front yard. Two kids. Mother.”
Dean nodded, “Anything else?”
“It’s angry... wants them gone.”
“Good. You did well; Sammy.”
He blushed at the praise; he’d usually been reprimanded for using his powers, blamed for giving away their location. Obviously, that hadn’t been true since he’d joined Dean, the hunter usually complimenting his powers; but still, it felt good to hear the praise. Better still was realising that he didn’t have a headache like he usually did after using his powers.
Dean
Dean curled his arm around Sam’s shoulder as he drove one-handed, taking the exit that lead in to the town. Watching the near-panic attack had felt horrible; but he had found new-found respect for the boy as he watched the thin skin of his eyelids flare blue as the boy obeyed and used his powers to try and figure out what had set him off.
Now, watching the tiny smile flicker on his Seer’s lips, Dean couldn’t help but mimic the expression. “What’s got you smiling?”
“No headache,” The boy beamed and Dean winced at the reminder that the poor kid suffered every time he used his powers. At least this time there was no nosebleed... and no headache either if he was to be believed.
But the anomaly had him frowning in thought, “Hey Sammy?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you don’t have a headache or nosebleed; but why do you think this time was different?”
Pink suffused the boy’s skin, making him curious.
“Sammy?”
“Same reason as for my nightmares.”
“Meaning contact? You need physical contact with someone?”
“Not... not someone,” The boy mumbled, “You.”
Dean stiffened at that, unsure how to respond. Eventually he managed to ask, “How do you know that; it’s possible you just need someone- anyone- to hold you while you use your powers...”
“Andy sometimes held me when the visions came; back... back at the Machibuse centre, it never helped.”
“Andy... he was another Seer?”
“Umhmm,”
“Maybe it has to be someone without powers...”
He watched the boy shake his head in refusal, “No, had one of the handlers grab me once too... Didn’t help.”
Sam
Not for the first time, Sam found himself wishing that he could see: destroying the spirit had been laughably easy once they figured out which house was being haunted, but even an easy hunt meant injuries. .. Especially when it involved an overprotective idiot like Dean (who was- evidently- of the opinion that the only person allowed to get hurt was himself).
The hunter brushed away his concerns saying it was nothing and that he had had worse; and maybe he had even managed to school his features into a placid mask, but Sam’s acute hearing meant he had heard the hitched breath as Dean settled himself behind the wheel as they resumed their drive to Black Ridge.
“You need to rest, Dean,”
“Nah... I’m good, you can take a nap if you want, though; lean against me. I don’t mind.”
“I know,” Sam grumbled; because as much as he enjoyed snuggling into Dean’s side, he was twenty-one years old and much-MUCH too old to need such comfort.
“Don’t be a bitch and get some rest,” Dean returned affectionately, tugging lightly till Sam was stretched along the bench seat with his head pillowed just under Dean’s shoulder.
“Jerk,” he returned, but closed his eyes; after all he was- they were- going to need to be at full strength for the Wendigo hunt. The use of his powers always sapped his strength and though he was getting better at it, the opportunity to rest and recharge was a welcome one.
He thought of cool green forests and muddy trails as he drifted off; his dreams filled with images of trees in full blossom and grassy spaces.
Dean
Dean woke the Seer carefully, waiting till he was fully conscious before exiting the car to meet Roy and Walt where they waited next to their own dusty rust-bucket of vehicle. His eyes narrowed at the trembling slip of a girl that was their Seer; watching as the men piled their gear on her slender back.
Dean felt the warm line of heat where Sam was pressed against his side and slowed his steps. “Stay close to me,”
“Hmm,” was the hum of response; and Dean smiled at the knowledge that Sam was as much on his guard as him.
He tightened his hold on his pack as he neared the trio, “We gonna hike?”
“Yeah,” Walt answered, and Dean could feel the prickling gaze of the other hunter settle on Sam’s figure behind him.
“You sure you’re comfortable with letting him run lose like that?”
Dean’s brow rose at the words and he took in the thick leather collar on the girl’s neck, her manacled hands and the leash dangling from them.
“Umm...yeah, Sam’s safe.”
“Great then, let’s start before it gets too dark, alright?” Roy cut in, picking the leash and tugging the girl as he set off towards the woods.
Dean followed, Sam at his heels; Walt walked between the two Hunter-Seer pairs, talking about the location where the bodies had been discovered and where he thought was the Wendigoes lair.
Dean carefully pulled Sam’s hand and wound a finger through his own belt-loops to guide the seer; knowing Sam was alert and capable of reading Dean’s movements enough to get a fair read on the terrain. It was dusk when the Seer stumbled for the first time (though the poor girl up ahead had stumbled and fallen countless times so far; her knees grazed and bleeding sluggishly after the last incident when she scraped it against a fallen branch in her effort to stop her fall.) Dean paused, realizing the uneven land was getting progressively worse as they walked deeper into the forest and his movements weren’t enough to guide Sam anymore. He whispered for Sam to wait while he scouted the dense underbrush for a long-ish stick. Finding a slender branch that mostly served the purpose, he brought it back; pulling out the blade from his hip-holster to slice away the unnecessary twigs and smoothen it somewhat. He still hesitated before handing it over; knowing the rough bark - while harmless to his callused hands, would scrape at the Seer’s softer skin. Eventually, he pulled out his handkerchief, folding and wrapping it around one end to serve as a make-shift handle.
Sam’s beatific smile when he handed it over, though; was worth the sacrifice of his only clean handkerchief- one hand-embroidered by his mom and his only remaining gift from her.
Sam
Sam couldn’t help but grin when he felt the padded end of the makeshift walking stick Dean handed him. A part of him missed the reassurance of holding on to the hunter; knowing he would be caught the second he stumbled, but the rest of him- the independent adult that had hated the Machibuse for its rules and conformities even as he’d understood their necessity; exulted in the freedom the stick provided. He heard the soft footfalls next to his and felt the last of his doubts disappear.
Sam wasn’t sure how long they walked along the hiking-trail; but he was glad to stop when Dean stopped him with a murmured, “We’re stopping for tonight.”
He heard the sounds of Walt and Roy setting up their tents and felt useless as Dean made him steady the pike and prepared theirs.
He couldn’t help the grin at Dean’s proud, ’done!’ as the hunter stepped back and looked at their setup.
“That was fast,” he heard one of the other guys mutter and felt his muscles tense involuntarily; but Dean’s hand curled around his shoulder almost immediately, telling him to stand down wordlessly, telling him that it was okay.
He relinquished his rucksack without hesitation when the hunter took it and tossed it inside their tent; biting his lip when he heard the other hunters request Dean to gather firewood for the campfire since he was done.
“Set up the bedroll, Sam.”
He heard the faux hardness in the tone and understood that even though it wasn’t strictly necessary, Dean was using the excuse to push him into the tent.
He knocked his stick along the ground till he found the rolled canvas and grabbed it before heading inside the tent. Once inside, he carefully felt around till he found the buckles on the roll before undoing them. Unrolling it was easier than expected and he soon found himself bored as he sat on it, waiting for Dean to return.
Gradually the sounds around the camp quietened as the other hunters finished with their own tents; but with the lessening of sound, Sam became aware of the low keening. Objectively, he knew it was from the female seer, but the sound set his teeth on edge and every fibre in him wanted to go out and protect the girl. There was a loud thud and then some thumping before the girl’s sobs increased in volume. Sam heard the drag and rustle of dried leaves as though something heavy was being dragged and then the clink of chains.
The return of the quiet- barring some muffled whimpers had him aware of something poking at him from under the canvas cover and he felt around till he located the small pebble. Wondering if there were other things which could disturb their night’s rest had Sam sweeping his arm carefully under the length of the entire roll, tossing out twigs and rocks as he found them.
He jumped when the zipper was yanked open on one end of the tent, Roy’s coarse voice yelling at him to get his lazy butt out.
Having no other choice, Sam mutely followed the other hunter out; walking slow enough to stop a foot away when the man paused.
“So, what’s your power; Freak?”
Sam held his tongue, trying to ignore the ugly name: he had been called that before and while Dean had never referred to him in such derogatory terms; he knew that a lot of other hunters did.
“What, you lack a tongue?” a different voice spat and Sam automatically jerked away at the first hint of flying spittle.
Rough callused hands- so different from Dean’s, he noticed abstractly, even if the gun calluses were all in the same places- grabbed his jaw and pried his mouth open to check for the presence of a tongue and it took everything in him not to bite at those hateful fingers.
“Why don’t you talk, boy?” The first voice asked even as his shirt-collar was tugged till he was slightly hunched.
It’s with some surprise that he realized that the men were much shorter than him; not that the knowledge made him feel particularly powerful. Dean had told him to be on his guard and not do anything that might give them an excuse to hurt him worse; but it was so incredibly hard...
“Maybe we need to put that mouth to better use, Walt.”
Sam froze at the implications, sightless eyes wide and terrified as he shook his head even as he was forced to his knees.
“Open wide, Freak.”
Sam trembled; feeling the low hum of his power begin to coil in his gut as it prepared to protect him. He fought to rein it in, not wanting to be labelled a ‘danger’ because that would be his label if he hurt hunters.
Dean
Dean sped up as he felt that instinctual curl in his gut warning him of danger. He’d always trusted his intuition and it had generally saved him from numerous scrapes; but the last time he had felt this acute of a warning, Sam was being accosted by Walt and Roy.
Not wanting to think too deeply about why the boy’s welfare was so paramount to him, he jogged back with his armload of firewood; his speed enough to be called a sprint as his internal alarms went off. He was glad to have heeded their warning when he came back to the campsite to find Sam forced to his knees between the thick denim clad legs of Roy with Walt crowding in from the side.
He tossed the wood with a loud clatter; lips curling in distaste as he realized that the fire-pit was not yet ready and the female seer was chained to a stump on the far side of the camp like a dog.
“Thought we all knew better than to touch each others’ property,” Dean drawled, shoulders tense for a fight but voice even.
Walt jerked back at his voice like he’d been scalded.
“Just wanted to talk to the Freak,”
“I’m sure.” Dean told him dryly; staring levelly at Roy till the man drew back and levered himself to his feet; leaving Sam kneeling like some sacrificial lamb.
He stalked over to the seer and wound his fingers around the brown strands, tugging lightly to signal him to get to his feet.
“He mute?”
Dean turned at the question, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips as he understood that Sam had refused to answer whatever questions they might have had. “No, but I’d forbidden him from speaking before I left.”
“Huh,” If the men detected the lie they kept quiet.
“What did you want to know, anyway?”
“His ability... I mean what can he do?”
“Oh, not much actually,” Dean returned easily, “He gets these terrible visions about supernatural attacks.”
“Psychic?”
Dean shrugged, “He has no idea about how to control them or when they’ll hit. They leave him with migraines and when serious, bleeding.”
“Why’d you get him, then; if he’s so worthless?”
Dean rolled his eyes, “’coz he was all I could afford.”
He felt the seer stiffen next to him and sighed inwardly; knowing he would have some explaining to do the moment they had some privacy. Without waiting for a response, he set to building the fire-pit; directing Sam to dig and smiling grimly when the boy obeyed without protest.
Sam
Sam pawed through his bag twice before conceding defeat.
Dinner had been an awkward affair; the conversation stilted and with everybody- especially the three hunters- on guard for a wendigo attack, it was a relief when Walt announced he would take first watch and the rest of them retired to their tents.
“What?”
He jumped at the hunter’s voice, not having heard him come in while he was looking for through his bag. “Can’t find my night-pants,”
“Uh... that might be because I took them out.”
“Oh,” Sam mumbled, feeling stupid for not having checked for that before. He patted the bedroll, fingers searching for the familiar cotton when he heard Dean clear his throat again.
“I left them at the car, Sammy,”
He stilled, waiting for the man to continue.
“We needed to lighten our packs to fit in the ammo; that’s more important for this hunt. So I uh... I left out our change of clothes except for a tee-shirt each. You can sleep in your jeans; or strip down to your boxers like me. Given we’re going to share; I’d recommend the latter.”
Sam nodded, fingers trembling lightly as he undid his belt and crouched to shuck off the worn denim.
“Did you mean it?” he couldn’t help but demand, working to distract himself from the fact that they were apparently going to be pressed up together with even less barriers between them than usual. “When you said earlier that you got me because I was in your budget... did you mean it?”
“I did get you because I could afford you, yes,” Dean mumbled; tugging him once he was done to zip the bag up and seal them in, “But I also could have gotten one of the ten other seers Martin had on his list. I picked you in particular for a specific reason. And-”
Sam opened his mouth to question but felt a callused trigger finger press against his lips, silencing him.
“Don’t- don’t ask me about that right now, ‘kay?”
“Later?” he mouthed more than actually asked, his lips moving soundlessly against the finger pressed to them.
“Yeah...” Dean sighed, finally retracting his hand and shifting to lie on his back with a rustle of the worn canvas, “Yeah; I’ll tell you about it later.”
Dean
Dean shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable in the small space: the bag really was too small for two guys as big as him and Sammy.
It was tight and uncomfortable but given how rigid Sam was; he decided the younger male wouldn’t welcome him using Sam for a teddy bear and stayed as far away as the confines allowed- which was to say, his entire left was pressed firmly against Sam’s back as the boy lay curled on his side.
A part of him missed the by-now familiar closeness; having grown used to sharing his bed already. He would have preferred not to tell Sam about his dismal financial status. He’d used his entire inheritance to purchase the boy and register him to legalize the claim; and it was true that had Martin not agreed to lower his rates Dean would have had to settle for a different seer, but he guessed that finding out just how shallow Dean’s affections really were was bound to hit someone as affection-starved as Sam hard.
“Ugh,” Sam grumbled softly.
Dean held still; waiting to see what the boy would do.
The seer groused wordlessly as he awkwardly shifted and turned till he was on his back; Dean could feel the seams of the canvas sleeping bag stretch to accommodate them side by side (although if you wished to be technical about it, Sam was partially on top of Dean). The boy let out a huff of annoyance and then manoeuvred some more till he was on his side again; this time facing Dean.
“You can have the pillow,” he declared, pushing the inflated air-pillow under Dean’s head, who obliging lifted his head to accommodate it.
“What about you?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“I’m good,” Sam whispered back, wriggling some more till he had slid down enough to comfortably rest his head on the hunter’s shoulder; his left arm (and leg) coming up to possessively wrap around him.
Dean allowed his body to relax under the heavy weight of Sam’s limbs; strangely reminded of his childhood when... when.
He swallowed, willing the sudden block in his throat to go down and blinking the unbidden tears away.
“Thank you,”
Dean choked, managing a hoarse sounding “For what?”
“For picking me,”
And just when Dean thought he couldn’t feel any worse...
“I mean... you could have chosen one of the others; so... thank you.”
“I’m sure the others wouldn’t have seen this as a kindness.”
“Well, I do. ... I- I was suffocating with the Machibuse, Dean. I was considering trying to escape just to feel the fresh air again-”
“They were keeping you safe!”
“Maybe; maybe I was existing, Dean... but I wasn’t living. Not really.” Sam’s arm twitched lightly as his fingers rubbed abstractly on the thin cotton of Dean’s tee-shirt, “We had to remain indoors all the time. Weren’t allowed to talk loudly or make noise lest we attract some hunter’s attention; or worse, PACMan’s. We didn’t have electricity; or-or-or hot water... at least not till Aidan arrived.”
“Aidan?”
“Another seer, his hands could heat up like an iron rod-”
“Just his hands?”
“Um-hmm, anyway; he used warm the water for us.”
“That’s nice,” Dean whispered, trying to picture that kind of life; his own life hadn’t been too easy, what with being a hunter and raised by one, but the loneliness in Sam’s voice still managed to hurt some part deep in him.
“It was,” Sam agreed before succumbing to a jaw-crackingly wide yawn, “G’night,”
“Good night, Sammy.” Dean returned; removing the left arm from under his head to curl his forearm around the boy snuggled next to him, his fingers idly scratching through the soft brown strands. “Go to sleep, kiddo; I’ve got you.”
Sam
Sam wasn’t sure what exactly woke him but there was a pit of unease building low in his gut that made him worry. It was similar to the strange sense that assailed him whenever a supernatural was near, but muted; and given that Dean was pressed so firmly up against him, it was not surprising that he felt protected.
He shifted out from under Dean’s arm carefully and realized that the hunter was sprawled on his back with Sam still tucked up on his chest the way they had been when he’d closed his eyes. Apparently neither had moved in their sleep. Dean’s arm tightened imperceptibly as he tried to wriggle out from underneath and he hushed softly; the hunter going lax again at the reassurance.
A low sob echoed in the clearing and his head shot up; he held still for a moment wondering if Dean had woken up; but the older man didn’t stir. He crept out of the sleeping bag soundlessly to investigate and hissed at the cold outside the warm cocoon they had created. Dean grumbled incoherently in his sleep at the change as well, but didn’t awaken.
Gritting his teeth, he reached into himself and unlocked the cage on his powers, unzipping a portion of the tent’s exit and peering out. He could make out Roy and the seer on the far side of the meadow and the hunter was doing something that made the girl whimper. His breath hitched.
He watched the hunter’s head come up at the sound till he was looking directly at him. Sam scrambled back; jumping back inside the sleeping bag forcefully enough to jostle Dean awake.
“What?” The hunter asked, blinking blearily.
Before Sam could answer they both heard loud footsteps come to a halt outside their tent.
“Winchester?”
Dean squeezed his shoulder once and slid out, tucking his gun into the waistband of his boxers before unzipping the tent to let the other man in. “What?”
“Saw something... a glow from here. You okay?”
“Must have caught my torch; I was checking the time.”
“T’was blue and there were twin points; like-like eyes,”
Both Sam and Dean heard the suspicion in the tone and Sam wondered how Dean was going to cover this time.
“Yeah,” Dean answered; Sam heard the soft snick of a switch being turned and felt light come on, “Like I said, my torchlight.”
Whatever Dean had used must have simulated his glowing eyes because Roy hesitated, “Yeah... but-”
They never found out what the other hunter was going to say because it was then that they all heard the snap of a twig and then the other seer was screaming.
Dean paused only long enough to grab his flare gun and then he was running outside. Sam grabbed at the closest item of clothing- which by the feel of it turned out to be his hoodie- slipped his feet into his converse sneakers and followed them.
He felt a hand grab his arm and flailed slightly before realizing that it was just Dean.
“Bastard got the girl, stay close.”
He nodded, shivering lightly in the cold of the night with just his boxers to cover his leg and reminded himself that Dean had to be worse off; after all, the hunter had rushed out without his jacket or jeans. He tried to keep up with the chasing hunters, stumbling lightly but Dean was barely giving him enough time to recover; pushing him relentlessly as he hurried after the monster.
Sam yelped when a thorny shrub grazed his bare calf and felt Dean slow slightly; there was no other sound around except for the harsh sound of their own breathing. He felt the hunter entangle their fingers together- Dean’s left with Sam’s right.
“Why don’t you use your sight? There’s no one around and it’ll keep you from tripping.”
Sam obediently let his eyes flare blue, the forest coming alive around them in a way he rarely experienced. He could see the trail of broken branches and twisted shrubs that the wendigo had left in its wake and with his powers un-tethered, he could feel its presence up ahead.
They chased it to an abandoned mine and cautiously stepped inside, guessing it was the thing’s lair. There was a clatter of falling rocks up ahead and Dean hurried up, his fingers slipping from Sam’s grasp. Sam’s knees buckled the second he lost contact with the hunter, the blinding pain taking him by surprise.
He heard Dean pause as he noticed Sam’s graceless descent. “Sammy?”
“Go, I’ll manage.” He managed to gasp; eyes scrunched shut tightly against the pain.
“Stay,” The hunter told him, chasing up ahead.
Sam didn’t like sitting there like a duck but without Dean’s presence to mitigate it, he was in too much pain to move. So, he simply curled into himself as he cowered on the rocky floor; eyes scrunched shut and ears straining. He heard muffled screams and then the loud report of a gun firing followed by a piercing shriek. Soon enough footsteps were hurrying towards him.
“Sam, roll!” Dean called and he obeyed without hesitance.
He felt the texture of the ground change from stone to wood- which creaked ominously under his weight- but before he could warn, he felt a heavy weight slam into him. He felt the wooden plank shake from the impact before a second body -this one reeking of dirt and blood- landed on them.
Sam wasn’t sure how, or exactly what happened but the next thing he knew; they were all tumbling down. He heard Dean’s pain-filled yell and then the hunter was rolling them. The momentum from the fall carried them forward till they hit a boulder and both men took a moment to get their bearings.
“You ‘kay?” Dean asked; voice pinched from his own injury.
“Yeah, yeah...” Sam answered, as he catalogued himself- there were going to be a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing was bleeding or felt fractured. “Wendigo?”
Dean
Dean glanced behind them at the question, taking in the impaled creature. It was a miracle he or Sam hadn’t been injured similarly. The wendigo was snarling and struggling; but in vain, the only thing that the creature’s struggles ensured was to tear it further on the iron poles it was trapped in. He looked away when one of the spikes emerged from what was the thing’s ‘neck’; apparently damaging its vocal cords because while the wendigo still continued to struggle futilely, it was no longer audible apart from a grotesque gurgling sound produced from its ruined throat.
“I do not have any more flares,” he admitted.
“Do you think it’s going to come after us?”
“No, but it would be a mercy to kill it now,”
Sam nodded. They were both silent for a moment before the seer spoke again, “Where are you hurt?”
“Huh?”
“Oh don’t lie... I heard you scream. Besides, I can smell the blood.”
Dean ducked his head, shaking it fondly, “My leg.”
“Show me,” Sam held out his hand.
Dean guided it to the long gash on his thigh, wincing when the boy’s fingers touched the frayed tissue. He was taken aback when a blue glow abruptly came on, and he realized that Sam was using his powers to actually ‘see’ his injury.
“It’s bad,”
“I’ll survive,”
The iridescent blue gaze met his, “Not the way you’re bleeding, no.”
“Well, it’s not like we can do anything ‘bout it.” He shrugged. The blue glow turned away from his leg and Dean sighed, “Don’t worry; I’ve made provisions so that you go to Bobby instead of PACMan in case anything happens to me. You- ow!”
The boy’s fingers had dug into his leg till the pressure had caused his injury to flare up again.
He glanced up to find Sam’s sightless eyes glaring at him, “Stop talking like that!”
“What do’ya want me to say, Sammy?”
“Say you’re going to let me try something,”
Dean nodded, “Anything,”
“I read about this,”
“Okay?”
“The Inca’s used to do it when they had a wound that needed suturing,” Sam explained, rising to take the two steps necessary to go to the wall but keeping a firm hold on Dean’s hand throughout. Dean watched the blue glow appear again as Sam searched in the cracks for something and then the boy was carefully picking it up.
“What is it?” he asked, curious despite himself.
Sam walked back and sat down Indian-style next to him; deftly lifting the hunter’s foot to position it across his own.
Dean tried not to think of how vulnerable the position made him feel, opened up and put on display the way he was.
Thankfully, Sam was too focussed in his task to notice.
The seer put down whatever he had retrieved from the cracks on the rock in favour of pulling out a handkerchief from his hoodie’s pocket and Dean glanced at it, “Ants? Seriously?”
Sam nodded; biting his lower lip as he carefully brushed the debris and dust from the gash and reached for an ant; which, Dean noticed with some trepidation, was larger than your garden variety ones.
Carefully holding it from its ‘neck’ -Dean couldn’t remember what it was technically called from his high-school biology class- so that its pincers were wide open, Sam lowered the insect to the torn skin; his other hand holding the two pieces carefully shut. Dean couldn’t bite back a yelp when it bit him; jerking involuntarily and dislodging Sam’s hand.
Sam cursed.
“What?”
“You broke off its pincer,” The seer grumbled and lowered his head to the wound.
Dean tried not to think how close to his groin Sam’s head was and remained perfectly still as the seer carefully pulled it out with his teeth.
“Now, hold still; alright?” Sam told him as he reached for another ant.
“It hurts,” Dean found himself protesting petulantly.
“Stop being a sissy,” Sam told him and repeated his actions.
Dean held still this time, having a decent idea of what to expect; and watched as Sam twisted the little body to neatly decapitate the ant, leaving it head holding together the two sides of Dean’s torn skin.
The seer got up twice to fetch more ants but kept repeating the action till there was a neat row of ant-heads marching down Dean’s leg; his thigh a mass of tingling and twitching muscle from the sting of the bites on his already inflamed skin. Once done, Sam sat back to admire his work.
Dean had to admit that it was a passable solution given his leg had stopped bleeding and the frayed edges of his skin were held together as firmly as possible without the aid of actual stitches.
Sam
“How’s the head?” Dean asked lowly.
Sam shrugged: given he had been using his powers without a break for nearly an entire hour, his headache was surprisingly manageable; but then again that might be because he had been in contact with Dean the entire time.
He shivered lightly in the chill of the damp cave and curled closer to the hunter, “Next time- and I don’t care what happens- we are stopping long enough to pull on our pants.”
The hunter chuckled but didn’t protest.
Sam tucked his head further into Dean’s shoulder, the single hoodie spread across both their torsos in a poor mimicry of a blanket; both of Sam’s legs and Dean’s un-injured leg tucked close to their body to preserve as much body heat as possible.
The wendigo had long fallen silent, and they both hoped it wasn’t just bidding it’s time for them to creep closer.
“Rest, I’ll keep watch,” Dean murmured, curling his arm around him and shifting till he was sitting with his back to one of the boulders lining the mine’s wall while Sam was resting against him.
“You’re the injured one,” Sam protested, but obediently closed his eyes.
He had apparently dozed off because he roused with Dean shaking him lightly, “Rescue’s here.”
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