Sunrise by raths_kitten
Title: Sunrise
Author: Vera
Prompt: #54: Sunrise
Pairing/Character(s): Sam POV, gen (no Wincest)
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 641
Spoilers/Warnings: No Rest For The Wicked
Summary: Short coda set right after the season 3 finale. Sam POV.
Sam’s body was calm. Controlled. He stood next to Bobby, praying he wouldn’t touch him, because one small flick, and he’d crack. Because he might appear to be collected right now, but inside he was a mess. His brain just seemed unable to process all that had happened in the past few hours.
Ruby. Just, it wasn’t. Lilith. His own powers… But no, he couldn’t go there yet. Not ever, probably. Not that, too. Not again. It was all too damn much. And fuck, Sam really wished Lilith had been able to kill him, then maybe now he’d be with Dean, would be able to help him, protect him, get him out. Or just, well, stay down there and… and fight them from the inside.
And he had to hold on to this small hope, that Dean was doing it right this very second. Dean was fighting. Raising a little hell. In hell. He wasn’t… wasn’t tied up somewhere getting tortured. Or cooked. Or… or… fuck! Sam really couldn’t go there. And he really wished he’d never been stupid enough to read Dante and think it was research. It wasn’t. Lies, all lies. There was no actual suffering in hell. There just… wasn’t. Couldn’t be.
Sam shuddered and fought hard to instead focus on Dean right here, right now. Or what was left of him, anyways. His body mounted on a bunch of branches and twigs, quickly collected and then neatly stacked by Bobby and himself. It had been good, then. A mindless task to keep himself occupied. But it all came crashing down now.
“Let’s do this, Sam,” Bobby said, bringing him out of his reverie. And Sam could see right through it. ’Let’s do this now, when you’re still dazed enough. Before you can get any stupid ideas.’
“No.” Sam frowned. His voice was weak, cracked. He cleared his throat, tried again. “No!” Stronger now, oozing authority. “I am not giving up. I am going to bring him back.”
”Sam.”
”No, Bobby. No.” Sam glared at him. “I will. I owe him.”
“No, you don’t. It was his decision and a stupid one at that. Now don’t you go and make the same dumb mistake all over again.” Bobby reached out, but Sam flinched away, deflecting his shoulder before Bobby could touch him. “Your brother wouldn’t want you to,” Bobby tried.
“Don’t.” Sam hardened even more. “Don’t tell me what Dean would want me to do. He’s my brother.” But he knew Bobby was right. Of course he was. But that didn’t matter now, did it? Neither of them mattered. It was Sam’s decision to make. His, and his alone.
“Sam…” Bobby tried again, but Sam was already on the move, heaving Dean down carefully, as if he wasn’t stiff, lifeless. As if he’d still be able to feel pain. And… and Sam just didn’t want to do any more damage to the body. And fuck, anyways… Fuck!
Bobby just looked at him, sad and accusatory. Sam sent him a look back that said ‘Don’t challenge me’, then he carefully, carefully placed Dean, into the passenger seat of the Impala and wrapped him up in a blanket. There was no more blood flow. Nothing to even indicate he was hurt, with only his face peaking out. It was strangely disturbing and calming at the same time.
“Don’t worry, Dean,” he whispered. “I’m gonna take care of you now. I’ll fix this.” First he’d get them a room, then clean out Dean’s wounds, stitch them up, make him all better. Fix his body, so when he came back, he could just slip right back in and be okay. Yeah. Sam smiled and quietly hummed to himself while he climbed behind the wheel, blasting Metallica as he drove off into the sunrise, leaving Bobby behind him in a cloud of dust.
Author: Vera
Prompt: #54: Sunrise
Pairing/Character(s): Sam POV, gen (no Wincest)
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 641
Spoilers/Warnings: No Rest For The Wicked
Summary: Short coda set right after the season 3 finale. Sam POV.
Sam’s body was calm. Controlled. He stood next to Bobby, praying he wouldn’t touch him, because one small flick, and he’d crack. Because he might appear to be collected right now, but inside he was a mess. His brain just seemed unable to process all that had happened in the past few hours.
Ruby. Just, it wasn’t. Lilith. His own powers… But no, he couldn’t go there yet. Not ever, probably. Not that, too. Not again. It was all too damn much. And fuck, Sam really wished Lilith had been able to kill him, then maybe now he’d be with Dean, would be able to help him, protect him, get him out. Or just, well, stay down there and… and fight them from the inside.
And he had to hold on to this small hope, that Dean was doing it right this very second. Dean was fighting. Raising a little hell. In hell. He wasn’t… wasn’t tied up somewhere getting tortured. Or cooked. Or… or… fuck! Sam really couldn’t go there. And he really wished he’d never been stupid enough to read Dante and think it was research. It wasn’t. Lies, all lies. There was no actual suffering in hell. There just… wasn’t. Couldn’t be.
Sam shuddered and fought hard to instead focus on Dean right here, right now. Or what was left of him, anyways. His body mounted on a bunch of branches and twigs, quickly collected and then neatly stacked by Bobby and himself. It had been good, then. A mindless task to keep himself occupied. But it all came crashing down now.
“Let’s do this, Sam,” Bobby said, bringing him out of his reverie. And Sam could see right through it. ’Let’s do this now, when you’re still dazed enough. Before you can get any stupid ideas.’
“No.” Sam frowned. His voice was weak, cracked. He cleared his throat, tried again. “No!” Stronger now, oozing authority. “I am not giving up. I am going to bring him back.”
”Sam.”
”No, Bobby. No.” Sam glared at him. “I will. I owe him.”
“No, you don’t. It was his decision and a stupid one at that. Now don’t you go and make the same dumb mistake all over again.” Bobby reached out, but Sam flinched away, deflecting his shoulder before Bobby could touch him. “Your brother wouldn’t want you to,” Bobby tried.
“Don’t.” Sam hardened even more. “Don’t tell me what Dean would want me to do. He’s my brother.” But he knew Bobby was right. Of course he was. But that didn’t matter now, did it? Neither of them mattered. It was Sam’s decision to make. His, and his alone.
“Sam…” Bobby tried again, but Sam was already on the move, heaving Dean down carefully, as if he wasn’t stiff, lifeless. As if he’d still be able to feel pain. And… and Sam just didn’t want to do any more damage to the body. And fuck, anyways… Fuck!
Bobby just looked at him, sad and accusatory. Sam sent him a look back that said ‘Don’t challenge me’, then he carefully, carefully placed Dean, into the passenger seat of the Impala and wrapped him up in a blanket. There was no more blood flow. Nothing to even indicate he was hurt, with only his face peaking out. It was strangely disturbing and calming at the same time.
“Don’t worry, Dean,” he whispered. “I’m gonna take care of you now. I’ll fix this.” First he’d get them a room, then clean out Dean’s wounds, stitch them up, make him all better. Fix his body, so when he came back, he could just slip right back in and be okay. Yeah. Sam smiled and quietly hummed to himself while he climbed behind the wheel, blasting Metallica as he drove off into the sunrise, leaving Bobby behind him in a cloud of dust.