Fighting To Breathe, 1/1, PG-13, Post 5x12
This was not only requested at spnstoryfinders, but also at ohsam. And I'd had the plot bunny for awhile, just hadn't been nudged to write it. :P
Title: Fighting To Breathe
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Post 5x12: Swap Meat
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: "And I think I have asthma." Sam's got to get out to save Dean, but he's got a few other worries himself.
Wordcount: 1,875.
Sitting in a room with a dead body had never been one of the things on Sam's top ten favorite things to do list. Especially a body that had been young. Kid had been stupid, but he hadn't deserved to die, not even for his selfish gains.
But Sam was still stuck sitting with a dead body, still unable to break free from the ropes, still completely unable to help his brother.
The phone was up on the counter, practically taunting him to come pick it up. Despite the number being on speed dial on his own cell phone, Sam still knew Dean's number like the back of his hand (and wasn't that funny, since he didn't technically know what the back of his hand looked like currently, because it wasn't his hand).
The kid, Gary, had no upper body strength at all. No lower body strength either. But the phone was right there, and if Sam could just get to it, he could save Dean.
And that was something he'd always fight to try for.
His fingers hadn't made any progress with the rope, so now it was just down to pulling, twisting, and praying to a god Sam wasn't sure he believed in anymore. He strained against the ropes, trying to push himself forward against a hopeful weak spot. The ropes ground against the pole but didn't give. Undaunted Sam took a deep breath and heaved forward again. He could hear the ropes groaning under the strain, leaving him with more hope and a renewed source of strength.
Five minutes later the ropes still hadn't given, Sam wasn't free, and the demon had to have gotten to Dean by now. And as soon as the demon was there, it'd twist Gary into doing whatever it wanted, and leave Dean with not only a demon to fight, but a stupid kid who was wearing Sam as a suit. It didn't matter if Gary even knew how to throw a decent punch, Sam had enough strength-
Stop it, Sam thought sternly. Panting from the fight with the ropes, he forced himself to think. The body in front of him had his eyes still wide open, and Sam shuddered and turned away. There had to be something within reach. Gary's body was short but his legs had to be good for something.
There was another chair he could probably reach, but it wouldn't do him any good. All the ritualistic objects that could be sharp or pointy were on the opposite side of the room with the phone. The phone that he needed to call Dean.
Sam shut his eyes tight. Dean wasn't stupid: he had to know that the person standing next to him wasn't Sam anymore, right? Even as far off as they'd been lately, Dean would've figured it out after this long. Sam acting different for a few hours was one thing. Sam acting strange for a day and change?
Dean would know. Make the kid tell him everything he knew, and then he'd be prepared for the demon when it came. Yeah.
So why the hell couldn't Sam stop panicking?
Sam twisted and fought the ropes even harder, eyes on the phone. He used Gary's legs to push off from where he was sitting in the hopes that the leverage would help. It only tightened the ropes around his chest, making it even harder to breathe. He fell back against the pole, panting for air, eyes burning as he glared at the phone. Of all the times he wished he'd really had telekinetic powers, this was one of them.
God he'd been an idiot. He'd been suspicious of the sounds around him and yet he'd still been caught completely off guard when the kid had filled him with the tranq dart. And now because of his stupidity Dean was in a serious amount of danger and Sam was still stuck here, ropes digging into his chest and keeping him from breathing.
No, not the ropes, he realized suddenly. The ropes were resting against him, keeping him there, but they weren't tight across his chest like it felt like they were. No, his chest and lungs were just tight on their own, and a sinking feeling filled him even as he fought to keep his breaths evened. He was just panicking. Dean would be fine. He had to be.
But god, if anything happened to his brother...
He was getting out of here. He had to. Dean was depending on him. He'd just gotten his brother back after he'd been so utterly stupid, and the thought of losing him now to a single, smaller moment of stupidity sent a wave of nausea through his already twisting gut.
Breathing was still hard to do, and the ropes felt heavy and tight and restrictive across his chest. He was left feeling anxious and on edge, and from across the room, the phone rested on top of the counter. He had to make it.
Sam sucked in a breath, pulling in Gary's stomach as far to his spine as he could. He kept holding the breath as he tried to slide out from the bottom of the ropes, fighting to get at least one arm free. Just one arm would be all he needed to get out, to get to the phone, to get to Dean-
It didn't work. And holding his breath had been a bad idea. His lungs weren't expanding properly, burning inside of him, and even as he gasped for air it wouldn't go down his throat. Panic for himself was rising as steadily as it was for Dean, and Sam's mind flew to his being shot again by Gary's friends a few hours before. Had the second tranq dart done something to him? God, Gary had probably been allergic to whatever was in there, unlike Sam's body. Allergic to the tranq dart, gluten-
No. Not allergic. Asthmatic. His own words that he'd sent to Dean hours ago came back to haunt him, and if he'd had the air to groan he would've.
Spots were starting to fill his vision even as he kept struggling to get out, a struggle for survival for himself as well as for Dean. He had to get out, had to save his big brother, the one who'd called him back and wanted him there, the only reason Sam honestly felt like getting up in the morning, the one who after everything still trusted him, the one who-
Who was crashing into the room, eyes immediately flying to Sam. “Sam?” Dean whispered, or maybe shouted, Sam wasn't sure. He couldn't hear really anything over the roaring in his ears. The burning in his chest made his body buck against the ropes, begging for air, air that even with Sam's mouth wide open was denied.
Even as he struggled weakly Dean was there, and a moment later the ropes were gone. The band around his chest didn't let up, though, and Sam felt his eyes drift shut. He could hear faint sounds, Dean's voice angry and scared, Sam's own, stolen voice replying in a way that didn't sound like him at all, and a terrible wheezing, high pitched sound that Sam was pretty sure was coming from him.
Something settled at his lips, and a moment later a sharp taste filled his mouth. He swallowed out of instinct, and miraculously his chest opened a little. The sharp taste returned again, and Sam eagerly inhaled it, feeling air flood in and the burning recede. The something at his lips disappeared, and then it was all air, all glorious air.
The dizziness began to recede, and the blurry room came into focus. He was on the floor, still gasping for air, and leaning against something much bigger than he was. A few blinks removed the moisture from his eyes, enough to see his brother's jacket right next to him.
“Sam?”
Slowly Sam raised his head, still feeling light-headed and desperate for air. It was coming in droves, though, and he told himself to take it easy. Gulping down air would send him right back to where he'd been before. Besides, he had other things to focus on: like his brother.
His brother who was alive, holding and keeping Sam upright, staring down at Sam with a frown on his face and a touch of uncertainty. “Sam?” Dean asked again. “That you in there?”
Sam took in another lungful of air to reply, then stopped when he saw the blood on Dean's forehead. He reached up to gently swipe away the blood that was currently leaking out and down his brother's face. “What happened?” he asked with a frown. “You hurt anywhere else?”
When he turned back to meet Dean's gaze again, Dean was smiling. “Good to see you too, dude,” he said, and Sam gave a tenuous grin back. His brother was safe, and that left Sam able to breathe again for a completely different reason.
Something shifted beyond Dean, and Sam instinctively glanced towards the movement. Then he was glaring at himself, his body, as Gary moved uneasily from foot to foot. “Hi,” Gary said.
“You kick his ass yet?” Sam asked casually. Sam's own face blanched.
“Figured I'd wait until you guys switched back to do it: I'd hate to leave a mark on you,” Dean replied cheerfully. “Which, speaking of, I assume you'd like to have your body back?”
“Very much so,” Sam said fervently. “With the assurance that this'll never happen again.”
Gary tried to glare back, but apparently he didn't know how to properly use all of Sam's facial muscles to do so. “Hey, at least I had the inhaler on me, just in case: I saved your life, man.”
Sam didn't even have a chance to answer. “Yeah, and his life wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if you hadn't played Freaky Friday,” Dean snapped, and Gary took a few steps back. Just beyond him, Sam could now see the girl, a coat wrapped around her shivering frame. Her eyes were locked on the body, and Sam nudged Dean once.
It only took Dean a moment to figure out what Sam was silently saying. “Gary, get Nora out of here,” he ordered, and Gary quickly moved the girl towards the door. Dean let out a sigh once they were gone, then turned back to Sam. “You okay?” he asked.
Sam nodded. “Just...want back in my own body. I couldn't get free, Dean.” Couldn't get to you, went unspoken.
He was pretty certain Dean heard him again just fine. “Let's get you back to yourself,” he said instead, helping Sam to stand. He waited until he was sure Sam was standing okay before ushering Sam out of the room. “You sure you're okay?” Dean couldn't seem to help but ask again, and the worry was back. “You weren't breathing, Sammy. At all.”
“Yeah, positive,” Sam assured him. Dean still didn't look happy so Sam smiled. “I'm breathing fine now.” The bands around his chest had loosened, letting him breathe all he wanted.
But his brother was there and safe, and that left Sam able to breathe again for a completely different reason.
END
~Nebula
Title: Fighting To Breathe
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Post 5x12: Swap Meat
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: "And I think I have asthma." Sam's got to get out to save Dean, but he's got a few other worries himself.
Wordcount: 1,875.
Sitting in a room with a dead body had never been one of the things on Sam's top ten favorite things to do list. Especially a body that had been young. Kid had been stupid, but he hadn't deserved to die, not even for his selfish gains.
But Sam was still stuck sitting with a dead body, still unable to break free from the ropes, still completely unable to help his brother.
The phone was up on the counter, practically taunting him to come pick it up. Despite the number being on speed dial on his own cell phone, Sam still knew Dean's number like the back of his hand (and wasn't that funny, since he didn't technically know what the back of his hand looked like currently, because it wasn't his hand).
The kid, Gary, had no upper body strength at all. No lower body strength either. But the phone was right there, and if Sam could just get to it, he could save Dean.
And that was something he'd always fight to try for.
His fingers hadn't made any progress with the rope, so now it was just down to pulling, twisting, and praying to a god Sam wasn't sure he believed in anymore. He strained against the ropes, trying to push himself forward against a hopeful weak spot. The ropes ground against the pole but didn't give. Undaunted Sam took a deep breath and heaved forward again. He could hear the ropes groaning under the strain, leaving him with more hope and a renewed source of strength.
Five minutes later the ropes still hadn't given, Sam wasn't free, and the demon had to have gotten to Dean by now. And as soon as the demon was there, it'd twist Gary into doing whatever it wanted, and leave Dean with not only a demon to fight, but a stupid kid who was wearing Sam as a suit. It didn't matter if Gary even knew how to throw a decent punch, Sam had enough strength-
Stop it, Sam thought sternly. Panting from the fight with the ropes, he forced himself to think. The body in front of him had his eyes still wide open, and Sam shuddered and turned away. There had to be something within reach. Gary's body was short but his legs had to be good for something.
There was another chair he could probably reach, but it wouldn't do him any good. All the ritualistic objects that could be sharp or pointy were on the opposite side of the room with the phone. The phone that he needed to call Dean.
Sam shut his eyes tight. Dean wasn't stupid: he had to know that the person standing next to him wasn't Sam anymore, right? Even as far off as they'd been lately, Dean would've figured it out after this long. Sam acting different for a few hours was one thing. Sam acting strange for a day and change?
Dean would know. Make the kid tell him everything he knew, and then he'd be prepared for the demon when it came. Yeah.
So why the hell couldn't Sam stop panicking?
Sam twisted and fought the ropes even harder, eyes on the phone. He used Gary's legs to push off from where he was sitting in the hopes that the leverage would help. It only tightened the ropes around his chest, making it even harder to breathe. He fell back against the pole, panting for air, eyes burning as he glared at the phone. Of all the times he wished he'd really had telekinetic powers, this was one of them.
God he'd been an idiot. He'd been suspicious of the sounds around him and yet he'd still been caught completely off guard when the kid had filled him with the tranq dart. And now because of his stupidity Dean was in a serious amount of danger and Sam was still stuck here, ropes digging into his chest and keeping him from breathing.
No, not the ropes, he realized suddenly. The ropes were resting against him, keeping him there, but they weren't tight across his chest like it felt like they were. No, his chest and lungs were just tight on their own, and a sinking feeling filled him even as he fought to keep his breaths evened. He was just panicking. Dean would be fine. He had to be.
But god, if anything happened to his brother...
He was getting out of here. He had to. Dean was depending on him. He'd just gotten his brother back after he'd been so utterly stupid, and the thought of losing him now to a single, smaller moment of stupidity sent a wave of nausea through his already twisting gut.
Breathing was still hard to do, and the ropes felt heavy and tight and restrictive across his chest. He was left feeling anxious and on edge, and from across the room, the phone rested on top of the counter. He had to make it.
Sam sucked in a breath, pulling in Gary's stomach as far to his spine as he could. He kept holding the breath as he tried to slide out from the bottom of the ropes, fighting to get at least one arm free. Just one arm would be all he needed to get out, to get to the phone, to get to Dean-
It didn't work. And holding his breath had been a bad idea. His lungs weren't expanding properly, burning inside of him, and even as he gasped for air it wouldn't go down his throat. Panic for himself was rising as steadily as it was for Dean, and Sam's mind flew to his being shot again by Gary's friends a few hours before. Had the second tranq dart done something to him? God, Gary had probably been allergic to whatever was in there, unlike Sam's body. Allergic to the tranq dart, gluten-
No. Not allergic. Asthmatic. His own words that he'd sent to Dean hours ago came back to haunt him, and if he'd had the air to groan he would've.
Spots were starting to fill his vision even as he kept struggling to get out, a struggle for survival for himself as well as for Dean. He had to get out, had to save his big brother, the one who'd called him back and wanted him there, the only reason Sam honestly felt like getting up in the morning, the one who after everything still trusted him, the one who-
Who was crashing into the room, eyes immediately flying to Sam. “Sam?” Dean whispered, or maybe shouted, Sam wasn't sure. He couldn't hear really anything over the roaring in his ears. The burning in his chest made his body buck against the ropes, begging for air, air that even with Sam's mouth wide open was denied.
Even as he struggled weakly Dean was there, and a moment later the ropes were gone. The band around his chest didn't let up, though, and Sam felt his eyes drift shut. He could hear faint sounds, Dean's voice angry and scared, Sam's own, stolen voice replying in a way that didn't sound like him at all, and a terrible wheezing, high pitched sound that Sam was pretty sure was coming from him.
Something settled at his lips, and a moment later a sharp taste filled his mouth. He swallowed out of instinct, and miraculously his chest opened a little. The sharp taste returned again, and Sam eagerly inhaled it, feeling air flood in and the burning recede. The something at his lips disappeared, and then it was all air, all glorious air.
The dizziness began to recede, and the blurry room came into focus. He was on the floor, still gasping for air, and leaning against something much bigger than he was. A few blinks removed the moisture from his eyes, enough to see his brother's jacket right next to him.
“Sam?”
Slowly Sam raised his head, still feeling light-headed and desperate for air. It was coming in droves, though, and he told himself to take it easy. Gulping down air would send him right back to where he'd been before. Besides, he had other things to focus on: like his brother.
His brother who was alive, holding and keeping Sam upright, staring down at Sam with a frown on his face and a touch of uncertainty. “Sam?” Dean asked again. “That you in there?”
Sam took in another lungful of air to reply, then stopped when he saw the blood on Dean's forehead. He reached up to gently swipe away the blood that was currently leaking out and down his brother's face. “What happened?” he asked with a frown. “You hurt anywhere else?”
When he turned back to meet Dean's gaze again, Dean was smiling. “Good to see you too, dude,” he said, and Sam gave a tenuous grin back. His brother was safe, and that left Sam able to breathe again for a completely different reason.
Something shifted beyond Dean, and Sam instinctively glanced towards the movement. Then he was glaring at himself, his body, as Gary moved uneasily from foot to foot. “Hi,” Gary said.
“You kick his ass yet?” Sam asked casually. Sam's own face blanched.
“Figured I'd wait until you guys switched back to do it: I'd hate to leave a mark on you,” Dean replied cheerfully. “Which, speaking of, I assume you'd like to have your body back?”
“Very much so,” Sam said fervently. “With the assurance that this'll never happen again.”
Gary tried to glare back, but apparently he didn't know how to properly use all of Sam's facial muscles to do so. “Hey, at least I had the inhaler on me, just in case: I saved your life, man.”
Sam didn't even have a chance to answer. “Yeah, and his life wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if you hadn't played Freaky Friday,” Dean snapped, and Gary took a few steps back. Just beyond him, Sam could now see the girl, a coat wrapped around her shivering frame. Her eyes were locked on the body, and Sam nudged Dean once.
It only took Dean a moment to figure out what Sam was silently saying. “Gary, get Nora out of here,” he ordered, and Gary quickly moved the girl towards the door. Dean let out a sigh once they were gone, then turned back to Sam. “You okay?” he asked.
Sam nodded. “Just...want back in my own body. I couldn't get free, Dean.” Couldn't get to you, went unspoken.
He was pretty certain Dean heard him again just fine. “Let's get you back to yourself,” he said instead, helping Sam to stand. He waited until he was sure Sam was standing okay before ushering Sam out of the room. “You sure you're okay?” Dean couldn't seem to help but ask again, and the worry was back. “You weren't breathing, Sammy. At all.”
“Yeah, positive,” Sam assured him. Dean still didn't look happy so Sam smiled. “I'm breathing fine now.” The bands around his chest had loosened, letting him breathe all he wanted.
But his brother was there and safe, and that left Sam able to breathe again for a completely different reason.
END
~Nebula