We are Both Afraid Before the Dawn Part 2
If the crowd outside had been crazed, inside the school was pandemonium. A bunch of volunteers and policeman were shouting at them to proceed orderly and calmly down the stairs to their right and into the gym, and Dean was hanging on like he hadn't since Sam was much, much younger and crowds were an even greater threat of separating them than social workers.
The gym was built partway into the ground, and windowless. It smelled like only hot and sweaty teens could and made Sam want to gag. Dean found them a spot in a shadowy corner by some old bleachers and dumped their bags. They were both wet, and despite the heat of the room, Sam found himself shivering. His brother handed him a dry shirt and blocked the view while he changed, then, in typical Dean, changed his own shirt in full view of the crowd, tossing a wink at some blonde across the way.
"Gross," Sam mumbled.
"Hey, if it's our last night on Earth, I'm going out with a bang."
Sam tried to catch the hitch in his chest, but Dean heard it and winced slightly. He scrubbed a hand through his hair to dry it, then slumped back against the seats and extended his arm, letting Sam scoot in next to him.
"Hey," he said, softening his voice. "We're good. Like you said, Tornado Alley. They're like a well-oiled machine here. Timmy-Tommy-Johnny-or whatever his name is said this happens at least once a summer."
"Did you hear it? It sounded...that was no small thing, Dean."
"It'll pass. These things don't go on forever. Few minutes." Sam nodded. "Hey--we get a day off tomorrow, huh? Think we've earned it. I need my beauty rest. This face doesn't light up by itself."
Sam snorted. Dean was so corny sometimes it was kind of embarrassing. But endearing, too.
Maybe a little more of the latter.
The walls of the gym began to shake slightly. Above the sound of breaking glass and banging metal began, and suddenly the swarm from the lobby came pouring in, confused and shouting and carrying two bleeding men on a stretcher.
"Heads to the wall!" one of them bellowed. And the lights went out.
***
If Sam thought it was loud before it was Biblical now. Every kid with a working voice-box let it loose at full volume. Some of the women were crying too, and one screamed "It's in the school!" which set off the other half. It seemed like most of the men were cursing, praying, or some combination of the two. And over all of it, volunteers were shouting "heads to the wall, heads to the wall!" and making do with one or two flashlights. The horrible train sound was back, and what sounded like rocks pounding down somewhere far too close above them.
"Dean?" he asked, but his brother was already grabbing him, flipping Sam onto his stomach. Sam made a noise of protest and tried to roll over, but then Dean was crawling on top of him, pinning him to the floor, shielding his head with his right arm and--thankfully--cutting of the noise of some rabid banshee next to him.
"Just a minute or two," Dean said, breath hot on Sam's ear. "Over before you know it."
The whole room rumbled. Overhead came the sound of more shattering glass and screeching metal and banging doors, and the feeling of raw, unleashed violence. Sam could feel it in his chest. He could feel it in his guts.
Dean's left hand rested lightly on his hair, his brother's body strong and warm covering his own. If Dean really didn't think this was a big deal, why was he on top of Sam, risking a lifetime of teasing? If it passed so quickly, why was it taking so long? It if was this strong, could it spread? Spawn others? Was Dad out in it? Would he and Dean be caught up and tossed miles apart from each other, leaving their father to drive around looking for their bodies?
Someone else started screaming that everyone in the gym was going to die. About ten others responded with "pray, pray." Sam felt a chill despite the humidity of the room. He believed in God. He also believed God tended not to interfere. Their mother was proof of that. Their father had long ago taught them to be scared of the dark, to always have a way to see their threat, to know how to cripple an enemy. They had guns and knives in the backpacks, crucifixes and holy water, and Dean knew enough moves to keep their father on his toes when they sparred, but none of that was any good against something...natural. They were at this thing's mercy. Even Dean was freaked.
He couldn't hold back a shiver.
"Hey," his brother's voice came in, low and soft and too close to his ear. "It's gonna pass. A minute or two more, and it'll have had its fun and moved on. Don't listen to them. Listen to me. Everything's going to be okay." He squeezed Sam's trembling shoulder. "I gotcha, little brother."
Sam reached out, found Dean's sleeve, tugged, and clutched his brother's arm to his side. Hell was raging and screaming above and around them, and the dark was swallowing him up from the inside out, but Sam had his big brother, and his big brother had Sam wrapped in his arms, and so he closed his eyes and held tight and listened to Dean's soft reassurances as the world crashed and clattered and rocked and wailed and prayed its way down around them.
***
The gym gave one great big final shudder and slowly settled. As the roar drifted away, the mayhem around them began to quiet, people thanking God and their neighbors and shushing their still wailing children. Dean stayed on top of him, but lifted his head up to try and peer into the pitch.
“Okay,” he said, dropping back close to his brother. “It’s moving off, see? Give it a minute or two and it’ll be long gone.”
“And we wake up in Oz?” Sam asked, hoping his voice didn’t shake that badly. Dean chuckled-Sam could feel it through his back. Saying it was weird was an understatement.
“Better not, because I will own those friggin’ Munchkins. They give me the creeps.”
“There’s something wrong with you, you know that?”
“Make a list, bitch.” Dean’s left hand ruffled his hair. Some more flashlights winked on across the gym, and Dean muffled a curse when one got him in the eyes. “Someone better start working on power in this place.”
“The wires are probably down.”
“You pack a flashlight, Einstein?”
“Yeah, but it needs batteries.”
“Dad left us some.”
“And you put them in the remote control.”
Dean’s curse was abruptly drowned out by the terrible, twisting shriek of metal and a deafening roar of something collapsing. All flashlights suddenly went up toward the ceiling, and Sam’s stomach lurched at the thought that the damaged school could cave in on top of them, burying them alive in the pitch dark.
A deep, furious shudder roared through the floor and walls. And then, ever-so slowly, the roar flowed to a shriek, and then a slow, stuttered slide, that groaned out to silence. In its wake, an uneasy semi-calm began to seep back into the huddled families.
“Alright now,” Dean said softly, slowly easing himself off of his brother. “It’ll be alright now.”
Sam’s death-grip on his brother’s arm prevented him from sitting up, but it was only with Dean's gentle prodding that he released him. He scooted up into a sitting position, relieved when his brother’s arm dropped automatically over his shoulders and pulled him close.
A flashlight from across the gym began making sweeping motions as someone walked among the crowd. A few seconds later they heard Sal’s tell-tale drawl as she called “Sam and Dean!” and then “no thank you, honey,” and “do I look like I don’t know who I’m looking for?” and then “Sam and Dean of 1628 Lilac View Way!”
“Sal!” Dean called, and their neighbor gave a great huff and made their way toward them.
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to answer the first time you’re called?” She passed the light between their faces, blinding them both. “Well, good on you for getting here. Teddy ain't my brightest but God bless him, he does what he's told.” She yanked the flashlight and it popped open like a mini-camp lantern, which she set at their feet. “This here’s for you. Gotcha some water and something to snack on.”
“Are your kids okay?” Sam asked.
“They’re just fine, you sweet thing. This ain’t their first rodeo and it sure as hell ain’t mine. Last time a twister this bad came through it it ripped up our house from the ground up. Since then they have full bedrolls with three sets of clothes, soap, toothbrushes, batteries and flashlights, and I’ve got a big ol’ bag of everything that can’t be replaced and off we go. Where’s your Daddy?”
“He went to check on our Grandma,” Dean lied. “She’s a couple hours away and doesn’t drive much. He didn’t realize how bad it was gonna get here.”
“Well you tell him to stay put. Power lines and trees and God knows what else are going to be down all over, and mark my words, by tomorrow we’re gonna have a three ring circus out in those streets. Don’t you worry, they’ll be plenty of food and water to go around, and places to sleep if we need ‘em. You need anything you just let me know. And if anyone comes poking around asking who's looking after you, you just point them my way and I’ll run them off.”
At that moment, Sam was 99 percent sure Dean had fallen in love. “Thanks, Sal.”
“You boys get some rest. Find me if you need me.” She left them with a bottle of water, two sets of peanut-butter crackers, and two granola bars. Sam felt too shaken to eat, but he knew he’d feel differently come morning. Dean, of course, dug in like they’d been gone from the house for days instead of less than an hour.
“You think Dad’s okay?” Sam asked.
“Sure he is.”
“What if he was driving?”
“He’s hours away, Sammy. And even if there was a twister, it’s not like he’s going to drive toward it.”
They both fell silent at that. Fact was, if anyone decided to play a game of chicken with a violent natural disaster, it’d be John Winchester. Especially if his sons were on the other side.
Dean reached for his pack, pulled out their Dad's old jacket, and nudged Sam out of the way. Then he lay it out, interior side up, and pulled his brother down on top of it, letting Sam rest his head on his thigh and tangle his fingers in the denim over his knee.
“Try and sleep,” Dean murmured, patting Sam’s back. “I got it from here.”
Part I Next
The gym was built partway into the ground, and windowless. It smelled like only hot and sweaty teens could and made Sam want to gag. Dean found them a spot in a shadowy corner by some old bleachers and dumped their bags. They were both wet, and despite the heat of the room, Sam found himself shivering. His brother handed him a dry shirt and blocked the view while he changed, then, in typical Dean, changed his own shirt in full view of the crowd, tossing a wink at some blonde across the way.
"Gross," Sam mumbled.
"Hey, if it's our last night on Earth, I'm going out with a bang."
Sam tried to catch the hitch in his chest, but Dean heard it and winced slightly. He scrubbed a hand through his hair to dry it, then slumped back against the seats and extended his arm, letting Sam scoot in next to him.
"Hey," he said, softening his voice. "We're good. Like you said, Tornado Alley. They're like a well-oiled machine here. Timmy-Tommy-Johnny-or whatever his name is said this happens at least once a summer."
"Did you hear it? It sounded...that was no small thing, Dean."
"It'll pass. These things don't go on forever. Few minutes." Sam nodded. "Hey--we get a day off tomorrow, huh? Think we've earned it. I need my beauty rest. This face doesn't light up by itself."
Sam snorted. Dean was so corny sometimes it was kind of embarrassing. But endearing, too.
Maybe a little more of the latter.
The walls of the gym began to shake slightly. Above the sound of breaking glass and banging metal began, and suddenly the swarm from the lobby came pouring in, confused and shouting and carrying two bleeding men on a stretcher.
"Heads to the wall!" one of them bellowed. And the lights went out.
***
If Sam thought it was loud before it was Biblical now. Every kid with a working voice-box let it loose at full volume. Some of the women were crying too, and one screamed "It's in the school!" which set off the other half. It seemed like most of the men were cursing, praying, or some combination of the two. And over all of it, volunteers were shouting "heads to the wall, heads to the wall!" and making do with one or two flashlights. The horrible train sound was back, and what sounded like rocks pounding down somewhere far too close above them.
"Dean?" he asked, but his brother was already grabbing him, flipping Sam onto his stomach. Sam made a noise of protest and tried to roll over, but then Dean was crawling on top of him, pinning him to the floor, shielding his head with his right arm and--thankfully--cutting of the noise of some rabid banshee next to him.
"Just a minute or two," Dean said, breath hot on Sam's ear. "Over before you know it."
The whole room rumbled. Overhead came the sound of more shattering glass and screeching metal and banging doors, and the feeling of raw, unleashed violence. Sam could feel it in his chest. He could feel it in his guts.
Dean's left hand rested lightly on his hair, his brother's body strong and warm covering his own. If Dean really didn't think this was a big deal, why was he on top of Sam, risking a lifetime of teasing? If it passed so quickly, why was it taking so long? It if was this strong, could it spread? Spawn others? Was Dad out in it? Would he and Dean be caught up and tossed miles apart from each other, leaving their father to drive around looking for their bodies?
Someone else started screaming that everyone in the gym was going to die. About ten others responded with "pray, pray." Sam felt a chill despite the humidity of the room. He believed in God. He also believed God tended not to interfere. Their mother was proof of that. Their father had long ago taught them to be scared of the dark, to always have a way to see their threat, to know how to cripple an enemy. They had guns and knives in the backpacks, crucifixes and holy water, and Dean knew enough moves to keep their father on his toes when they sparred, but none of that was any good against something...natural. They were at this thing's mercy. Even Dean was freaked.
He couldn't hold back a shiver.
"Hey," his brother's voice came in, low and soft and too close to his ear. "It's gonna pass. A minute or two more, and it'll have had its fun and moved on. Don't listen to them. Listen to me. Everything's going to be okay." He squeezed Sam's trembling shoulder. "I gotcha, little brother."
Sam reached out, found Dean's sleeve, tugged, and clutched his brother's arm to his side. Hell was raging and screaming above and around them, and the dark was swallowing him up from the inside out, but Sam had his big brother, and his big brother had Sam wrapped in his arms, and so he closed his eyes and held tight and listened to Dean's soft reassurances as the world crashed and clattered and rocked and wailed and prayed its way down around them.
***
The gym gave one great big final shudder and slowly settled. As the roar drifted away, the mayhem around them began to quiet, people thanking God and their neighbors and shushing their still wailing children. Dean stayed on top of him, but lifted his head up to try and peer into the pitch.
“Okay,” he said, dropping back close to his brother. “It’s moving off, see? Give it a minute or two and it’ll be long gone.”
“And we wake up in Oz?” Sam asked, hoping his voice didn’t shake that badly. Dean chuckled-Sam could feel it through his back. Saying it was weird was an understatement.
“Better not, because I will own those friggin’ Munchkins. They give me the creeps.”
“There’s something wrong with you, you know that?”
“Make a list, bitch.” Dean’s left hand ruffled his hair. Some more flashlights winked on across the gym, and Dean muffled a curse when one got him in the eyes. “Someone better start working on power in this place.”
“The wires are probably down.”
“You pack a flashlight, Einstein?”
“Yeah, but it needs batteries.”
“Dad left us some.”
“And you put them in the remote control.”
Dean’s curse was abruptly drowned out by the terrible, twisting shriek of metal and a deafening roar of something collapsing. All flashlights suddenly went up toward the ceiling, and Sam’s stomach lurched at the thought that the damaged school could cave in on top of them, burying them alive in the pitch dark.
A deep, furious shudder roared through the floor and walls. And then, ever-so slowly, the roar flowed to a shriek, and then a slow, stuttered slide, that groaned out to silence. In its wake, an uneasy semi-calm began to seep back into the huddled families.
“Alright now,” Dean said softly, slowly easing himself off of his brother. “It’ll be alright now.”
Sam’s death-grip on his brother’s arm prevented him from sitting up, but it was only with Dean's gentle prodding that he released him. He scooted up into a sitting position, relieved when his brother’s arm dropped automatically over his shoulders and pulled him close.
A flashlight from across the gym began making sweeping motions as someone walked among the crowd. A few seconds later they heard Sal’s tell-tale drawl as she called “Sam and Dean!” and then “no thank you, honey,” and “do I look like I don’t know who I’m looking for?” and then “Sam and Dean of 1628 Lilac View Way!”
“Sal!” Dean called, and their neighbor gave a great huff and made their way toward them.
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to answer the first time you’re called?” She passed the light between their faces, blinding them both. “Well, good on you for getting here. Teddy ain't my brightest but God bless him, he does what he's told.” She yanked the flashlight and it popped open like a mini-camp lantern, which she set at their feet. “This here’s for you. Gotcha some water and something to snack on.”
“Are your kids okay?” Sam asked.
“They’re just fine, you sweet thing. This ain’t their first rodeo and it sure as hell ain’t mine. Last time a twister this bad came through it it ripped up our house from the ground up. Since then they have full bedrolls with three sets of clothes, soap, toothbrushes, batteries and flashlights, and I’ve got a big ol’ bag of everything that can’t be replaced and off we go. Where’s your Daddy?”
“He went to check on our Grandma,” Dean lied. “She’s a couple hours away and doesn’t drive much. He didn’t realize how bad it was gonna get here.”
“Well you tell him to stay put. Power lines and trees and God knows what else are going to be down all over, and mark my words, by tomorrow we’re gonna have a three ring circus out in those streets. Don’t you worry, they’ll be plenty of food and water to go around, and places to sleep if we need ‘em. You need anything you just let me know. And if anyone comes poking around asking who's looking after you, you just point them my way and I’ll run them off.”
At that moment, Sam was 99 percent sure Dean had fallen in love. “Thanks, Sal.”
“You boys get some rest. Find me if you need me.” She left them with a bottle of water, two sets of peanut-butter crackers, and two granola bars. Sam felt too shaken to eat, but he knew he’d feel differently come morning. Dean, of course, dug in like they’d been gone from the house for days instead of less than an hour.
“You think Dad’s okay?” Sam asked.
“Sure he is.”
“What if he was driving?”
“He’s hours away, Sammy. And even if there was a twister, it’s not like he’s going to drive toward it.”
They both fell silent at that. Fact was, if anyone decided to play a game of chicken with a violent natural disaster, it’d be John Winchester. Especially if his sons were on the other side.
Dean reached for his pack, pulled out their Dad's old jacket, and nudged Sam out of the way. Then he lay it out, interior side up, and pulled his brother down on top of it, letting Sam rest his head on his thigh and tangle his fingers in the denim over his knee.
“Try and sleep,” Dean murmured, patting Sam’s back. “I got it from here.”
Part I Next