Spiritual Possession, Chapter Five/Six
Title: Spiritual Possession 5/6
Rating: T (for Teen...or whatever)
Characters: Sam and Dean and Father John
Word Count: approx. 9200 (total)
Summary: Dean couldn't get angry with Sam. After all, he'd hurt the kid worse before. (Mostly PreSeries...but slips into a tag to Asylum at the end)
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
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Sam's eyes flew open with a gasp, the memory of a knife flashing through his mind. "Sammy?" a voice questioned from the other bed. The young man jerked and looked across the room, sun pushing through the thin curtains.
"Dad?" he asked in confusion as his father got out of his brother's bed. "Where's Dean?" he asked in concern, trying to sit up. John pushed him back gently, seeing the pain pop up across his son's features.
"Sleeping in my room," John replied, hoping he wouldn't have to explain it. Sam frowned as his head rested against the pillow again. His wounds throbbed in concert with his head and he swallowed thickly to control a wave of nausea.
"Why's he in your room?" Sam asked in concern. John sighed and sat in the chair that was still next to the bed. Sam matched his father's sigh and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "God he's an ass." John chuckled slightly and Sam looked at him. John took a deep breath and turned serious.
"I was worried a minute it'd be as bad as Ithaca." Sam frowned deeply at the reference. "He calmed down a bit, but he looked downright terrified when I told him to go to bed and he thought about coming in here." Sam tried to push himself up again. John recognized the stubbornness and helped Sam sit up this time instead of forcing him back down.
"I gotta go kick his ass," Sam grumbled as he tried to push himself to his feet. John shook his head and kept him down, finding it hard to press on a place that wasn't injured.
"You need rest son," John insisted. "You're still too weak to be running around." Sam clenched his teeth as a wave of pain agreed with his father.
"Well then get the dumbass and bring him in here." Sam made eye contact with his father. "You know the longer we leave it the worse he'll get." John only hesitated a moment before nodding. He propped the pillow up behind Sam before he stood.
"If he won't come, you're still staying in bed," John said sternly. "Tomorrow I might let you out of bed long enough to kick his ass, but you're only getting out of that bed today if you have to piss." Sam flipped his father off good-naturedly as the older man left the room for his own.
Dean shot up in bed the second John pushed the door open. He looked around in momentary confusion before his expression sobered and he scrubbed at his face with both hands. "What time is it?" he mumbled into his palms.
"Just after noon," John answered. "Sam's awake." Dean looked up quickly, something between fear and relief in his eyes. "He wants to see you." Dean looked nervously to the hallway and John sighed. "You're gonna have to go in there for clothes eventually."
"Nah. We're close enough I can wear yours." John's eyes narrowed at Dean's attempt at distraction. Dean looked away, staring intently at his feet. John sighed and decided he'd have to play dirty.
"Your brother's asking for you. You tortured him Dean, I think you owe it to him to face him now." Dean's eyes shot up and he looked at his father in disbelief. Dean knew it was true, but he hadn't expected his father to say as much. John rolled his eyes and turned halfway. "Just talk to him, Dean. Tell him why it happened, at least." John walked away, to the kitchen, Dean judged from the sound of cabinets being opened.
Dean stared at his feet for another five minutes before he took a deep, and slightly shaky, breath. He slid off his father's bed and slowly walked down the hall toward his bedroom, pausing just outside the doorway to look in.
Sam was propped up in his own bed, sitting with his back against the headboard, head back and eyes closed. The blanket only went to his waist and Dean could see all the bandages: five in total. Every one for wounds inflicted by his hand. He took an involuntary step forward as he felt a bit dizzy and the movement was enough for Sam's head to snap up, turning to look at Dean.
Dean's heart thudded in his chest as his brother made eye contact with him. He stood frozen, torn between throwing himself at his brother's bedside, begging forgiveness, or running out of town. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed.
"You're a fucking idiot," the younger brother said softly. Dean continued to stare at him, eyes shifting more to the damaged chest. Sam swung his legs around to the side of the bed and pushed himself to his feet. Dean rushed forward on instinct as his brother swayed, catching Sam with gentle hands. Sam smiled up at his brother as he sat heavily again. He gripped Dean's forearms and directed his brother to sit in the chair John had used previously.
"Jesus Sammy..." Dean whispered when his senses had mostly caught up to him. Sam shook his head.
"You didn't do this Dean. I mean...I sure as hell worried it was you at first. But now I know it wasn't you. Dad taught you about spirit possessions just like he taught me..." Dean shook his head too.
"I should have resisted..."
"Dude...you can't resist a possession," Sam said. He sighed and let go of his brother to lean back a bit, easing the strain on his abdomen.
"Dad tell you about it?" Dean whispered. His brother shook his head again. "That mill used to be a farm. There were two brothers...the younger one lived on his brother's land. The older brother got sick of it and killed his brother. Then he killed himself. The spirit of the older brother gets two guys in there...it's prime for him to reenact his final moments.
"I...remember what he was thinking," Dean said quietly. "I...he...was so angry at you...his brother." Dean closed his eyes and turned his head away. Sam kicked his brother's shin and Dean looked at him in surprise.
"Quit moping, bitch," Sam teased with a small smile. "I'm the one that got filleted. What'd you get? A headache?" Dean stared at his brother. Sam was giving him an out. It'd be so easy just to laugh and take it....
Dean stood quickly and took a few steps toward the door. "Dean," Sam spoke firmly. The older brother turned to see the younger standing steadily from the bed and Dean wondered idly if the sway before had been a ruse to pull him in before. In truth, it was taking all of Sam's energy reserves to stay upright without wavering.
"This was shit...I know," he said softly. "I'm gonna see you with that knife every time I go to sleep for a long time." Dean's expression contorted into something resembling anguish and Sam resisted rolling his eyes again. "But whenever I wake up, I'm gonna know it wasn't you.
"You get pissed at me, don't deny it. You get frustrated that you've had to take care of me..." Dean started to open his mouth but Sam glared at him. "Shut up Dean and let me finish or so help me I'll come over and knock this into you myself." Dean was taken back by Sam's aggressive tone. Sam was always the calm one. "We've gotten in our share of fights. But I know, without a doubt, that you would never do what that asshole did to his brother."
"But I did do it!" Dean said loudly, waving a hand towards Sam's chest as proof. Sam did roll his eyes at that.
"Not you, Dean. Him. And you know I've had worse." Dean did know, but he didn't want to think about those times. "What's going to hurt me more is watching my brother avoid me. You're the only..." Sam paused and swallowed.
"I hate this life, man," Sam continued softly. "You keep me sane. I can't lose that just 'cause you're afraid of hurting me. You can't not hunt with me just 'cause you're afraid another spirit's gonna come along and possess you. Hell...in our line of work it's bound to happen again. Maybe to me next time. Maybe to you again. Maybe to both of us at the same time by the spirits of two dead hookers! It's a hazard of the job man."
Dean tried so hard not to let Sam break his shell. But he couldn't get the image out of his head of him and his brother pulling and scratching at each other's hair screaming 'harlot' and 'whore' at each other.
Sam caught the half snort from his brother and smiled. A second later he watched in satisfaction as his brother threw back his head and laughed. He took the opportunity to sit back down on his bed, using a smile to cover up his grimace. Dean calmed himself after a minute and looked seriously at his brother.
"We're good?" he asked worriedly. Sam smiled.
"We're good big brother," he assured softly. "But I totally get a rain check on getting possessed and kicking your ass." Dean returned his brother's grin and moved forward to mess up his brother's hair.
"Yeah...'cause you'd need a spirit to be able to kick this finely toned ass."
TBC in Chapter 6
Rating: T (for Teen...or whatever)
Characters: Sam and Dean and Father John
Word Count: approx. 9200 (total)
Summary: Dean couldn't get angry with Sam. After all, he'd hurt the kid worse before. (Mostly PreSeries...but slips into a tag to Asylum at the end)
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
-----------------------------
Sam's eyes flew open with a gasp, the memory of a knife flashing through his mind. "Sammy?" a voice questioned from the other bed. The young man jerked and looked across the room, sun pushing through the thin curtains.
"Dad?" he asked in confusion as his father got out of his brother's bed. "Where's Dean?" he asked in concern, trying to sit up. John pushed him back gently, seeing the pain pop up across his son's features.
"Sleeping in my room," John replied, hoping he wouldn't have to explain it. Sam frowned as his head rested against the pillow again. His wounds throbbed in concert with his head and he swallowed thickly to control a wave of nausea.
"Why's he in your room?" Sam asked in concern. John sighed and sat in the chair that was still next to the bed. Sam matched his father's sigh and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "God he's an ass." John chuckled slightly and Sam looked at him. John took a deep breath and turned serious.
"I was worried a minute it'd be as bad as Ithaca." Sam frowned deeply at the reference. "He calmed down a bit, but he looked downright terrified when I told him to go to bed and he thought about coming in here." Sam tried to push himself up again. John recognized the stubbornness and helped Sam sit up this time instead of forcing him back down.
"I gotta go kick his ass," Sam grumbled as he tried to push himself to his feet. John shook his head and kept him down, finding it hard to press on a place that wasn't injured.
"You need rest son," John insisted. "You're still too weak to be running around." Sam clenched his teeth as a wave of pain agreed with his father.
"Well then get the dumbass and bring him in here." Sam made eye contact with his father. "You know the longer we leave it the worse he'll get." John only hesitated a moment before nodding. He propped the pillow up behind Sam before he stood.
"If he won't come, you're still staying in bed," John said sternly. "Tomorrow I might let you out of bed long enough to kick his ass, but you're only getting out of that bed today if you have to piss." Sam flipped his father off good-naturedly as the older man left the room for his own.
Dean shot up in bed the second John pushed the door open. He looked around in momentary confusion before his expression sobered and he scrubbed at his face with both hands. "What time is it?" he mumbled into his palms.
"Just after noon," John answered. "Sam's awake." Dean looked up quickly, something between fear and relief in his eyes. "He wants to see you." Dean looked nervously to the hallway and John sighed. "You're gonna have to go in there for clothes eventually."
"Nah. We're close enough I can wear yours." John's eyes narrowed at Dean's attempt at distraction. Dean looked away, staring intently at his feet. John sighed and decided he'd have to play dirty.
"Your brother's asking for you. You tortured him Dean, I think you owe it to him to face him now." Dean's eyes shot up and he looked at his father in disbelief. Dean knew it was true, but he hadn't expected his father to say as much. John rolled his eyes and turned halfway. "Just talk to him, Dean. Tell him why it happened, at least." John walked away, to the kitchen, Dean judged from the sound of cabinets being opened.
Dean stared at his feet for another five minutes before he took a deep, and slightly shaky, breath. He slid off his father's bed and slowly walked down the hall toward his bedroom, pausing just outside the doorway to look in.
Sam was propped up in his own bed, sitting with his back against the headboard, head back and eyes closed. The blanket only went to his waist and Dean could see all the bandages: five in total. Every one for wounds inflicted by his hand. He took an involuntary step forward as he felt a bit dizzy and the movement was enough for Sam's head to snap up, turning to look at Dean.
Dean's heart thudded in his chest as his brother made eye contact with him. He stood frozen, torn between throwing himself at his brother's bedside, begging forgiveness, or running out of town. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed.
"You're a fucking idiot," the younger brother said softly. Dean continued to stare at him, eyes shifting more to the damaged chest. Sam swung his legs around to the side of the bed and pushed himself to his feet. Dean rushed forward on instinct as his brother swayed, catching Sam with gentle hands. Sam smiled up at his brother as he sat heavily again. He gripped Dean's forearms and directed his brother to sit in the chair John had used previously.
"Jesus Sammy..." Dean whispered when his senses had mostly caught up to him. Sam shook his head.
"You didn't do this Dean. I mean...I sure as hell worried it was you at first. But now I know it wasn't you. Dad taught you about spirit possessions just like he taught me..." Dean shook his head too.
"I should have resisted..."
"Dude...you can't resist a possession," Sam said. He sighed and let go of his brother to lean back a bit, easing the strain on his abdomen.
"Dad tell you about it?" Dean whispered. His brother shook his head again. "That mill used to be a farm. There were two brothers...the younger one lived on his brother's land. The older brother got sick of it and killed his brother. Then he killed himself. The spirit of the older brother gets two guys in there...it's prime for him to reenact his final moments.
"I...remember what he was thinking," Dean said quietly. "I...he...was so angry at you...his brother." Dean closed his eyes and turned his head away. Sam kicked his brother's shin and Dean looked at him in surprise.
"Quit moping, bitch," Sam teased with a small smile. "I'm the one that got filleted. What'd you get? A headache?" Dean stared at his brother. Sam was giving him an out. It'd be so easy just to laugh and take it....
Dean stood quickly and took a few steps toward the door. "Dean," Sam spoke firmly. The older brother turned to see the younger standing steadily from the bed and Dean wondered idly if the sway before had been a ruse to pull him in before. In truth, it was taking all of Sam's energy reserves to stay upright without wavering.
"This was shit...I know," he said softly. "I'm gonna see you with that knife every time I go to sleep for a long time." Dean's expression contorted into something resembling anguish and Sam resisted rolling his eyes again. "But whenever I wake up, I'm gonna know it wasn't you.
"You get pissed at me, don't deny it. You get frustrated that you've had to take care of me..." Dean started to open his mouth but Sam glared at him. "Shut up Dean and let me finish or so help me I'll come over and knock this into you myself." Dean was taken back by Sam's aggressive tone. Sam was always the calm one. "We've gotten in our share of fights. But I know, without a doubt, that you would never do what that asshole did to his brother."
"But I did do it!" Dean said loudly, waving a hand towards Sam's chest as proof. Sam did roll his eyes at that.
"Not you, Dean. Him. And you know I've had worse." Dean did know, but he didn't want to think about those times. "What's going to hurt me more is watching my brother avoid me. You're the only..." Sam paused and swallowed.
"I hate this life, man," Sam continued softly. "You keep me sane. I can't lose that just 'cause you're afraid of hurting me. You can't not hunt with me just 'cause you're afraid another spirit's gonna come along and possess you. Hell...in our line of work it's bound to happen again. Maybe to me next time. Maybe to you again. Maybe to both of us at the same time by the spirits of two dead hookers! It's a hazard of the job man."
Dean tried so hard not to let Sam break his shell. But he couldn't get the image out of his head of him and his brother pulling and scratching at each other's hair screaming 'harlot' and 'whore' at each other.
Sam caught the half snort from his brother and smiled. A second later he watched in satisfaction as his brother threw back his head and laughed. He took the opportunity to sit back down on his bed, using a smile to cover up his grimace. Dean calmed himself after a minute and looked seriously at his brother.
"We're good?" he asked worriedly. Sam smiled.
"We're good big brother," he assured softly. "But I totally get a rain check on getting possessed and kicking your ass." Dean returned his brother's grin and moved forward to mess up his brother's hair.
"Yeah...'cause you'd need a spirit to be able to kick this finely toned ass."
TBC in Chapter 6