Lissa_ann
As soon as Dean got the door shut he slammed all the locks home. Then it was the dresser that got shoved in front of the door, and after that he grabbed the little bit of salt he had left and poured it near the door's edge.
The spirit arrived with wails and shrieks, pounding at the door, but Dean didn't really care about it at that point. Because Sam was still leaning against the wall where Dean had left him, bleeding and looking completely spaced out.
"I got you," Dean said, right before Sam began to crumple in on himself. Dean stayed as good as his word, though, catching Sam and pulling him in close. Bobby would be there in ten minutes, give or take. They could last for that long.
Provided that Sam's glassy stare wasn't going to stay that way.
"Sammy, look at me," Dean said, trying not to feel anxious. The blood he could handle: Sam wasn't really bleeding badly at that point. Blood was easy.
Blank eyed stare after the ghost had shoved his hand into Sam's head? Not cool at all.
"Sammy, c'mon, look at me," and he wasn't above begging. Sam's eyes still weren't focusing on anything, and Dean gently shook him. "Sammy."
Nothing. He pinched and poked and even pushed on Sam's sternum in the hopes of pulling a groan from his brother. Still nothing. "Sammy, c'mon, wake up."
Nothing but the empty, hollow gaze. "Come back," Dean whispered. He shifted slightly and Sam's head fell towards his chest, as if he wasn't able to hold it up himself. Dean immediately righted him but kept his hand under Sam's chin. No one was home.
"The hell did it do to you?" Dean asked softly. Tapping on Sam's cheek didn't do anything, but it at least made Dean feel like he was trying. "C'mon kiddo, come back. You're safe and I'm here."
Like it was fear that had Sam trapped god knew where. The empty stare was too much, and Dean finally pulled Sam in against his chest, Sam's head resting against Dean's shoulder. (Because Sam's chin wasn't resting on top of Dean's shoulder, not when he wasn't responding, Dean wasn't going there again.)
"C'mon Bobby," he murmured. "Knock the sonuvabitch out." If the spirit was taken care of, then maybe Sam would be okay. He had to be.
It was the longest ten minutes of Dean's life. He couldn't hear when Bobby entered, only the one last shriek of the ghost before it disappeared. When Bobby hollered, Dean didn't pay him any attention.
Because in his arms, Sam was gasping and coming to. "Sammy? You back with me?"
And his brother's confused but very solid, "Dean?" was the best damn thing Dean had ever heard.
~Nebula
The spirit arrived with wails and shrieks, pounding at the door, but Dean didn't really care about it at that point. Because Sam was still leaning against the wall where Dean had left him, bleeding and looking completely spaced out.
"I got you," Dean said, right before Sam began to crumple in on himself. Dean stayed as good as his word, though, catching Sam and pulling him in close. Bobby would be there in ten minutes, give or take. They could last for that long.
Provided that Sam's glassy stare wasn't going to stay that way.
"Sammy, look at me," Dean said, trying not to feel anxious. The blood he could handle: Sam wasn't really bleeding badly at that point. Blood was easy.
Blank eyed stare after the ghost had shoved his hand into Sam's head? Not cool at all.
"Sammy, c'mon, look at me," and he wasn't above begging. Sam's eyes still weren't focusing on anything, and Dean gently shook him. "Sammy."
Nothing. He pinched and poked and even pushed on Sam's sternum in the hopes of pulling a groan from his brother. Still nothing. "Sammy, c'mon, wake up."
Nothing but the empty, hollow gaze. "Come back," Dean whispered. He shifted slightly and Sam's head fell towards his chest, as if he wasn't able to hold it up himself. Dean immediately righted him but kept his hand under Sam's chin. No one was home.
"The hell did it do to you?" Dean asked softly. Tapping on Sam's cheek didn't do anything, but it at least made Dean feel like he was trying. "C'mon kiddo, come back. You're safe and I'm here."
Like it was fear that had Sam trapped god knew where. The empty stare was too much, and Dean finally pulled Sam in against his chest, Sam's head resting against Dean's shoulder. (Because Sam's chin wasn't resting on top of Dean's shoulder, not when he wasn't responding, Dean wasn't going there again.)
"C'mon Bobby," he murmured. "Knock the sonuvabitch out." If the spirit was taken care of, then maybe Sam would be okay. He had to be.
It was the longest ten minutes of Dean's life. He couldn't hear when Bobby entered, only the one last shriek of the ghost before it disappeared. When Bobby hollered, Dean didn't pay him any attention.
Because in his arms, Sam was gasping and coming to. "Sammy? You back with me?"
And his brother's confused but very solid, "Dean?" was the best damn thing Dean had ever heard.
~Nebula