Fic: SPN - "Come Together" (Gen, G)
Title: Come Together
Word Count: 1160
Beta: As always - tunes84
Rating: G
Characters: Sam, Dean
Spoilers: 4.01
Summary: Sam awakes to an unexpected visitor. Dean discovers how difficult it is for things to go back to normal when you've been gone.
Disclaimer: I have no ownership of characters involved. :(
I’m stirred from my sleep by a strange noise and instantly my hand wraps itself around my gun. I keep my eyes shut as I try to place the noise; it sounds like a …whimper?
I crack one eye open, the familiar darkness of an unfamiliar motel relaxing me just a little. I seem to recall being somewhere in the state of Nebraska, but my slightly inebriated mind is working against me.
I hear the noise again to my left and, turning, I’m shocked to see a second bed. A second, occupied bed. I’ve been getting singles ever since Dean…It was a small way to save money, but I wasn’t as keen to hustling as he was. Making money hasn’t been as easy.
In fact, there were many nights I slept hungry in the car because I couldn’t make any money.
But tonight I seem to have been able to afford a room, and somewhere along the way I’ve inherited a roommate. A roommate who has some serious emotional problems if he’s crying in his sleep.
I keep my gun in my hand as I pull on sweat pants over my boxers. It’s a little harder to pull a tee shirt over my head, but I feel exposed before this stranger in my room, so I struggle with it.
I approach the edge of the bed beside mine. Oddly enough it’s the bed closest to the door. I try to figure out what has happened that brought me here when the man cries out again. His cry disrupts my thoughts and I move around the side of the bed so that I can see his face in the meager light leaking in from behind the curtains.
My gun is held ready, the safety off and my aim true. But then I see his face.
My brother’s face is slick with tears, his brow creased as if in extreme pain. I find myself frozen in place as I stare at his face, and even his continued whimpering can’t seem to drag me out of it. I reach out and place my hand on his check and neck, half expecting my brother to fade like the other hallucinations had. He doesn’t.
Instead he jerks awake violently, his fist swinging upwards and connecting with my jaw. I fall backwards, but not before my finger twitches too much on the trigger of my gun. As I fall to the sound of my gunshot, the memories of the last few days, of Dean’s return flood back to me.
I lay on the floor were I’ve fallen. There is no sound from the bed. Oh God.
I’ve killed my brother.
0o0o0o0o
The first thing I’m aware of is the sound of a gunshot echoing next to my head. I cringe away from the noise, but the ringing follows my head into the pillows.
I can’t move.
I try to lift my head, my arm, anything. But my body wont respond to me. All I can feel is an intense pain coursing through my body. I can’t take it. The pain from the torture my soul received while in Hell now echoes through my physical body, tormenting me.
The pain continues to reverberate through me and it takes everything I have to express the feeling in a weak whimper. The sound draws the attention of something in the room and I wish more than ever I was capable of controlling my limbs. I can only lie still as hands grasp my shoulders. Hands I can barely feel through the pain.
“No, no no…”
I can hear a voice over me and I try to melt into the bed. I feel so exposed and vulnerable as my body convulses in agony.
“Breathe damn it!”
I realize that I’m not breathing and panic starts to well up within me. How can I not be breathing?
I try to will my lungs to take in some oxygen, but apparently my body is still giving my brain the silent treatment. The throbbing pumping through my nerves fades just enough for me to feel my head being maneuvered and my mouth being pulled open by shaky hands.
“You can’t leave me again Dean.”
I feel something close over my mouth and my panic increases. How am I supposed to breathe if my only means of obtaining air is blocked? I think my hand twitches on the bed, but I don’t have time to pursue this new option of movement as I suddenly taste stale beer breath being forced into my mouth.
The mouth is removed and I feel the hands press down on my chest, once, twice.
“Please.”
The pressure seems to cause a different yet still familiar pain over the rapidly fading old one. My body starts speaking to my brain again as I suddenly become aware of a burning sensation on my shoulder.
The mouth returns and again the putrid breath is making its way into my lungs. The earlier paralyzing pain has faded and I realize I can control my own breathing now. I inhale so deeply I think I intake spit that isn’t mine.
I can’t help myself as my body begins coughing, but the hands belonging to the mouth and the despairing voice maneuver me so I’m sitting upright. One of the hands holds me still as the other thunks lightly on my back.
When I can finally breath normally again, I’m too weak to sit up by myself. I can’t even bring myself to open my eyes. Arms pull me against a broad chest and I allow myself to be cuddled. I don’t know who is holding me, but at this point it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have the energy to fight anyway.
I grasp at the memories of Hell rapidly disappearing into my subconscious. Memories that brought on this physical torment.
Suddenly I’m afraid.
I realize that fatigue is sinking in, but I can’t allow it to. I don’t want to go back to sleep. I’m afraid of the evil that is lurking in my subconscious, memories that I don’t think I can fight if I let my weary body win.
I can feel fresh tears on my face and I realize they are mine. The arms coiled around my torso pull me tighter as a chin rests itself on the top of my head.
“I’ve got you Dean.”
The voice murmurs into my hair, but I can still hear it. I realize I’m safe. The body wrapped around mine doesn’t mean me any harm and I’m surprised to realize this. Although the memories of my time in Hell are almost gone again, I know that no one there was on my side.
But I’m not alone anymore.
I release tension I hadn’t known I was holding and give up control to the man clutching me. For the first time I feel safe. It takes me a minute to realize how I could possibly feel so safe, safer than I think I’ve ever felt in my life. But then I remember.
Although my voice is sore and weak, I manage to get it to work before I slip back into unconsciousness.
“Sammy.”
Word Count: 1160
Beta: As always - tunes84
Rating: G
Characters: Sam, Dean
Spoilers: 4.01
Summary: Sam awakes to an unexpected visitor. Dean discovers how difficult it is for things to go back to normal when you've been gone.
Disclaimer: I have no ownership of characters involved. :(
I’m stirred from my sleep by a strange noise and instantly my hand wraps itself around my gun. I keep my eyes shut as I try to place the noise; it sounds like a …whimper?
I crack one eye open, the familiar darkness of an unfamiliar motel relaxing me just a little. I seem to recall being somewhere in the state of Nebraska, but my slightly inebriated mind is working against me.
I hear the noise again to my left and, turning, I’m shocked to see a second bed. A second, occupied bed. I’ve been getting singles ever since Dean…It was a small way to save money, but I wasn’t as keen to hustling as he was. Making money hasn’t been as easy.
In fact, there were many nights I slept hungry in the car because I couldn’t make any money.
But tonight I seem to have been able to afford a room, and somewhere along the way I’ve inherited a roommate. A roommate who has some serious emotional problems if he’s crying in his sleep.
I keep my gun in my hand as I pull on sweat pants over my boxers. It’s a little harder to pull a tee shirt over my head, but I feel exposed before this stranger in my room, so I struggle with it.
I approach the edge of the bed beside mine. Oddly enough it’s the bed closest to the door. I try to figure out what has happened that brought me here when the man cries out again. His cry disrupts my thoughts and I move around the side of the bed so that I can see his face in the meager light leaking in from behind the curtains.
My gun is held ready, the safety off and my aim true. But then I see his face.
My brother’s face is slick with tears, his brow creased as if in extreme pain. I find myself frozen in place as I stare at his face, and even his continued whimpering can’t seem to drag me out of it. I reach out and place my hand on his check and neck, half expecting my brother to fade like the other hallucinations had. He doesn’t.
Instead he jerks awake violently, his fist swinging upwards and connecting with my jaw. I fall backwards, but not before my finger twitches too much on the trigger of my gun. As I fall to the sound of my gunshot, the memories of the last few days, of Dean’s return flood back to me.
I lay on the floor were I’ve fallen. There is no sound from the bed. Oh God.
I’ve killed my brother.
0o0o0o0o
The first thing I’m aware of is the sound of a gunshot echoing next to my head. I cringe away from the noise, but the ringing follows my head into the pillows.
I can’t move.
I try to lift my head, my arm, anything. But my body wont respond to me. All I can feel is an intense pain coursing through my body. I can’t take it. The pain from the torture my soul received while in Hell now echoes through my physical body, tormenting me.
The pain continues to reverberate through me and it takes everything I have to express the feeling in a weak whimper. The sound draws the attention of something in the room and I wish more than ever I was capable of controlling my limbs. I can only lie still as hands grasp my shoulders. Hands I can barely feel through the pain.
“No, no no…”
I can hear a voice over me and I try to melt into the bed. I feel so exposed and vulnerable as my body convulses in agony.
“Breathe damn it!”
I realize that I’m not breathing and panic starts to well up within me. How can I not be breathing?
I try to will my lungs to take in some oxygen, but apparently my body is still giving my brain the silent treatment. The throbbing pumping through my nerves fades just enough for me to feel my head being maneuvered and my mouth being pulled open by shaky hands.
“You can’t leave me again Dean.”
I feel something close over my mouth and my panic increases. How am I supposed to breathe if my only means of obtaining air is blocked? I think my hand twitches on the bed, but I don’t have time to pursue this new option of movement as I suddenly taste stale beer breath being forced into my mouth.
The mouth is removed and I feel the hands press down on my chest, once, twice.
“Please.”
The pressure seems to cause a different yet still familiar pain over the rapidly fading old one. My body starts speaking to my brain again as I suddenly become aware of a burning sensation on my shoulder.
The mouth returns and again the putrid breath is making its way into my lungs. The earlier paralyzing pain has faded and I realize I can control my own breathing now. I inhale so deeply I think I intake spit that isn’t mine.
I can’t help myself as my body begins coughing, but the hands belonging to the mouth and the despairing voice maneuver me so I’m sitting upright. One of the hands holds me still as the other thunks lightly on my back.
When I can finally breath normally again, I’m too weak to sit up by myself. I can’t even bring myself to open my eyes. Arms pull me against a broad chest and I allow myself to be cuddled. I don’t know who is holding me, but at this point it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have the energy to fight anyway.
I grasp at the memories of Hell rapidly disappearing into my subconscious. Memories that brought on this physical torment.
Suddenly I’m afraid.
I realize that fatigue is sinking in, but I can’t allow it to. I don’t want to go back to sleep. I’m afraid of the evil that is lurking in my subconscious, memories that I don’t think I can fight if I let my weary body win.
I can feel fresh tears on my face and I realize they are mine. The arms coiled around my torso pull me tighter as a chin rests itself on the top of my head.
“I’ve got you Dean.”
The voice murmurs into my hair, but I can still hear it. I realize I’m safe. The body wrapped around mine doesn’t mean me any harm and I’m surprised to realize this. Although the memories of my time in Hell are almost gone again, I know that no one there was on my side.
But I’m not alone anymore.
I release tension I hadn’t known I was holding and give up control to the man clutching me. For the first time I feel safe. It takes me a minute to realize how I could possibly feel so safe, safer than I think I’ve ever felt in my life. But then I remember.
Although my voice is sore and weak, I manage to get it to work before I slip back into unconsciousness.
“Sammy.”