Tug and Pull, for winchesterpooja
Title: Tug and Pull
Beta: zelda_addict
Recipient: winchesterpooja
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,000+/-
Warnings: S9 spoilers
Author’s Note: I really enjoyed writing this fic because it gave me the chance to write S9, and also explore the speech Sam gave Dean at the end of The Purge (which is when this fic is set). So I hope my recipient likes it, I had a lot of fun! I would like to also thank my beta, she is a life saver.
Summary: After The Purge, Sam is feeling less than stellar with himself and with how his and Dean’s relationship is at the moment, so when Sam develops a severe migraine, he doesn’t bother letting Dean know. He doesn’t want his brother even more upset with him, and with Dean hanging out with Crowley nowadays; Sam can handle it on his own, right?
Sam felt his heart going a mile a minute in his chest. It was hard to breathe, to even think over how loud it was beating.
He hung onto the porcelain sink and stared at himself in the mirror. The figure staring back at him looked defeated, puffy black eyes with a split lip to match. He sure looked like one hell of a catch, didn’t he?
Shaking his head, Sam winced at the pain that the motion caused. His head was hurting, and no amount of aspirin seemed to help. He snuck some when he and Dean were coming back from Canyon Valley after dealing with the ‘Pishtacos’.
However, after their ‘talk', he and Dean parted ways, and his head had gotten worse over the last hour or so.
Sam thumbed his split lip before giving up and shutting the light off in the bathroom.
He stumbled a bit as a wave of dizziness assaulted his senses before he righted himself against the wall. Surely, Dean would have heard, since the wall he stumbled into was connected to his room. As Sam stood there waiting for some sign of life in the room, all he heard was Dean’s fan blowing.
Sighing, Sam managed to make his way to his room, falling against the bed in pure exhaustion.
Sleep came slowly though. The minutes ticked on loudly, almost penetrating through his skull. The tighter he squeezed his eyes the more it felt like he was going to explode. His hand grasped his pillow in a death grip while his mind slowly chanted ‘please go to sleep’.
All the while, music slowly vibrated in his skull, coming from the next room over. Sam would never admit it, but come morning time, his pillow was wet.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Sam’s eyes slowly opened when he heard an alarm going off. It took him a minute to adjust to waking; his eyes lazily tracked his own alarm clock to see the digital time brightly displaying 8:30.
However, his alarm wasn’t the one going off. He did his best to drown out the sound but to no avail.
The sound pulsed at just the right vibration to niggle into his brain and remind Sam of the migraine he had yesterday night.
Like a lighting strike, pain danced across his skull, making Sam shut his eyes and groan. It fizzled before starting all over again in a sickening beat.
Getting up out of bed was painful. It took him a good ten minutes to adjust to a sitting position, all while cradling his aching head.
He gave up on finding new clothes to wear since he fell asleep in the same ones from yesterday.
Actually standing was the real challenge, however. The room spun when Sam stood up, making his stomach twist and his head hurt that much worse. “Damn it,” Sam whispered shakily. His legs felt numb as he slowly began to make an unsteady gait towards the bathroom.
The harsh, white light reflecting off the porcelain did nothing for his migraine. It worsened it to the point Sam felt like he was going to pass out.
Gasping, Sam slowly sank down to his knees, closing his eyes and wishing for it all to end. He hadn’t had a migraine like this since his visions. The thought scared Sam to such an extent that it felt like he was hyperventilating.
The room began spinning again in a sickening turn almost like he was being sucked down a drain. Air was hard to suck into his lungs until he closed his eyes and felt no more.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Sam.”
He twitched in response, groaning as he slowly became aware.
“Come on, Sam. Don’t hog the damn bathroom.”
Scrunching his face, Sam moaned as he opened his eyes.
His mind felt fuzzy as he stared at their bathroom ceiling. What was he doing on the bathroom floor? What time was it even?
Rolling over to his stomach was a bad idea. His head decided to remind Sam exactly why he was laid out, incapacitated on the floor.
He felt his stomach turn until he was retching.
“Are you- Are you puking in there? Gross, man, I’m going to use our spare bathroom. Me and Crowley are going out to do something for a bit; I’ll be back shortly.”
Sam heard his brother’s boots stamp across the floor, and he almost wanted to cry out for help or beg Dean to stay.
“De…” Sam coughed on the accumulation of saliva in his mouth and groaned.
He had never felt more defeated in his life than he did now, lying next to a pool of his own vomit, begging his big brother to come back when he knew in his heart he was already drifting away.
The worst of all: it was all his fault.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The vomit was a bit tricky to clean, especially when Sam felt like the inside of his brain was being torn apart.
He did his best to ignore the stench and scrubbed to the best of his ability. He didn’t want Dean to come home and discover the mess and draw the wrong conclusions. It was way too easy to anger his brother nowadays, and Sam didn’t want to get drawn into that, least of all today.
When black spots began to dance across his vision, Sam decided to lie back down in hopes of getting rid of his migraine.
Sam wasn’t sure when exactly he dozed off, but he woke briefly when he heard Dean move around the bunker. The comforting pattern of his brother removing his jacket and keys, going to the bathroom real quick, and sliding his boots off coaxed him back into sleep before he could register just how bad things had gotten.
~*~*~*~*~*~
A sharp pain lanced through his abdomen, making him gasp. Sam moaned and did his best to breathe through the pain, but it didn’t seem to let go of its hold. Cramps began to assault his stomach, making his ribs hurt from how tight his muscles were seizing.
Squeezing his eyes closed, Sam was horrified to discover tears beginning to leak out.
This is bad. Moaning in pain, Sam held his stomach and did a blind grab for his phone on the nightstand.
“Urg…” Sam grunted as his hand connected with the nightstand harshly, sending the contents on top skidding across the floor. “No,” Sam moaned out in despair. Opening his eyes again, Sam shakily removed his tight grip around his stomach and lifted his shirt up. Dark purple and blue bruises peppered his left side in an array of patterns. He didn’t have long to stare at them, or wonder how he got them, before his head began to join in the assault.
The tension and anxiety was(were) making his blood pressure rise, thus ratcheting his migraine up to an 11 on the pain scale.
Dean. He needed Dean. It was the last thing he registered before he succumbed to darkness again.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Awareness came back to him slowly.
Sounds and smells filtered through his unconscious, which made him breathe slowly so as not to overwhelm his senses. Sam moaned as he tried to open his eyes, but he could only manage to open them to a sliver.
What he saw first was his brother.
The relief that flooded him at that moment was so palpable he was sure he could reach out and touch it if he tried.
The pain of earlier is(was) forgotten as he watched his brother pitter around the room. Dean was efficient, yet silent as he left the room for a moment then returned with a cold washcloth in hand.
Closing his eyes as Dean approached, Sam sighed when the cold washcloth was then set atop his eyes and forehead. The cold numbed the ache that was beginning to settle behind his eyes and soothed him into a restful sleep.
He couldn’t mistake the feeling of Dean softly talking, however, or his hand gently brushing against his arm.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Sammy?”
Sam mumbled something unintelligible and winced when his brother pulled his eyelid back to shine a light on his pupil.
“Sorry, didn’t realize you were awake,” Dean apologized.
Sam took a second to blink rapidly to be able to see clearly before his brother finally came into focus.
Dean leaned over him with penlight in hand, looking every bit concerned and worried. His stubble was a lot heavier than when Sam saw him last, if anything it seemed like a full-fledged beard at this point.
“You look like shit,” Sam rasped out, surprised at how rusty he sounded.
Dean snorted and then closed his eyes as if relief coursed through him when Sam spoke. “Thanks a lot, asshole, you too.”
It was something in the way Dean spoke that concerned Sam. Furrowing his brows, Sam tried to figure out what exactly happened to cause Dean to be so wound up.
“What happened?” Sam asked as he tried to push himself up in bed, not his bed as he noted the different comforters.
His arms were more shaky than he first imagined, however; Dean wound up having to help him up the rest of the way to a sitting position.
“You don’t remember?” Dean questioned with a look of disbelief.
“Not really.” Sam shrugged, trying to catalog whether anything felt off or hurt in any way.
Dean snorted again, but this time he looked angry. Sam was left confused, trying to figure out how he angered Dean this time.
“I almost had a heart attack, Sam, finding you unconscious in your bed. I swear, if I had…” Dean bit off another curse, shaking his head. That was when Sam realized that Dean wasn’t angry at him, but at himself.
The previous day’s events quickly began to flood his consciousness as he remembered his headache from hell that just wouldn’t go away. “Dean…” Sam began, intending to not only apologize but set his brother straight. It wasn’t his fault; the sole blame lay on Sam himself for not doing something sooner.
“Don’t,” Dean bit off harshly.
Sam watched as Dean settled in the chair he kept in his room, and his worn boots found their way onto the edge of the bed as he propped his legs up. Sam waited a few minutes before Dean started speaking again.
“It’s my fault. I was out busy with Crowley doing my best to ignore you and what you said, but it turns out you needed me, and I wasn’t there.”
“Dean, it was my fault, Not yours. I’m my own person, and I’m sorry my words hurt you, but I’m a grown man and have responsibility over myself. I should have told you that something was wrong way before it got so bad.” Sam twisted his hands in the sheets before he continued. “I-I get that you’re pissed at me, and that’s fine, I suppose, but I never wanted you to stop being my brother. I will always need you, okay? But you have to understand that I’m an adult now, and after everything we’ve been through? Those needs change, Dean, but the sentiment behind it stays the same.” Taking a big breath, Sam waited in anticipation for Dean to respond. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, so much so that Sam was sure Dean could hear it.
Dean swallowed a few times before he started to speak. “I can’t say I’m not hurt because I am, but I’m sorry I let you down. I’ve been a pretty shitty brother as of late, and I’m sorry for that.”
Sam cracked a smile. “We’re a sad bunch, aren’t we?”
Dean laughed, but it sounded watery to Sam’s ears. He hoped his words had gotten across to Dean.
Sam watched as Dean scrubbed a shaky hand down across his face before frowning.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Dude, I really need to shave.”
With that, Sam felt as if maybe everything would be alright.
The End
Beta: zelda_addict
Recipient: winchesterpooja
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,000+/-
Warnings: S9 spoilers
Author’s Note: I really enjoyed writing this fic because it gave me the chance to write S9, and also explore the speech Sam gave Dean at the end of The Purge (which is when this fic is set). So I hope my recipient likes it, I had a lot of fun! I would like to also thank my beta, she is a life saver.
Summary: After The Purge, Sam is feeling less than stellar with himself and with how his and Dean’s relationship is at the moment, so when Sam develops a severe migraine, he doesn’t bother letting Dean know. He doesn’t want his brother even more upset with him, and with Dean hanging out with Crowley nowadays; Sam can handle it on his own, right?
Sam felt his heart going a mile a minute in his chest. It was hard to breathe, to even think over how loud it was beating.
He hung onto the porcelain sink and stared at himself in the mirror. The figure staring back at him looked defeated, puffy black eyes with a split lip to match. He sure looked like one hell of a catch, didn’t he?
Shaking his head, Sam winced at the pain that the motion caused. His head was hurting, and no amount of aspirin seemed to help. He snuck some when he and Dean were coming back from Canyon Valley after dealing with the ‘Pishtacos’.
However, after their ‘talk', he and Dean parted ways, and his head had gotten worse over the last hour or so.
Sam thumbed his split lip before giving up and shutting the light off in the bathroom.
He stumbled a bit as a wave of dizziness assaulted his senses before he righted himself against the wall. Surely, Dean would have heard, since the wall he stumbled into was connected to his room. As Sam stood there waiting for some sign of life in the room, all he heard was Dean’s fan blowing.
Sighing, Sam managed to make his way to his room, falling against the bed in pure exhaustion.
Sleep came slowly though. The minutes ticked on loudly, almost penetrating through his skull. The tighter he squeezed his eyes the more it felt like he was going to explode. His hand grasped his pillow in a death grip while his mind slowly chanted ‘please go to sleep’.
All the while, music slowly vibrated in his skull, coming from the next room over. Sam would never admit it, but come morning time, his pillow was wet.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Sam’s eyes slowly opened when he heard an alarm going off. It took him a minute to adjust to waking; his eyes lazily tracked his own alarm clock to see the digital time brightly displaying 8:30.
However, his alarm wasn’t the one going off. He did his best to drown out the sound but to no avail.
The sound pulsed at just the right vibration to niggle into his brain and remind Sam of the migraine he had yesterday night.
Like a lighting strike, pain danced across his skull, making Sam shut his eyes and groan. It fizzled before starting all over again in a sickening beat.
Getting up out of bed was painful. It took him a good ten minutes to adjust to a sitting position, all while cradling his aching head.
He gave up on finding new clothes to wear since he fell asleep in the same ones from yesterday.
Actually standing was the real challenge, however. The room spun when Sam stood up, making his stomach twist and his head hurt that much worse. “Damn it,” Sam whispered shakily. His legs felt numb as he slowly began to make an unsteady gait towards the bathroom.
The harsh, white light reflecting off the porcelain did nothing for his migraine. It worsened it to the point Sam felt like he was going to pass out.
Gasping, Sam slowly sank down to his knees, closing his eyes and wishing for it all to end. He hadn’t had a migraine like this since his visions. The thought scared Sam to such an extent that it felt like he was hyperventilating.
The room began spinning again in a sickening turn almost like he was being sucked down a drain. Air was hard to suck into his lungs until he closed his eyes and felt no more.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Sam.”
He twitched in response, groaning as he slowly became aware.
“Come on, Sam. Don’t hog the damn bathroom.”
Scrunching his face, Sam moaned as he opened his eyes.
His mind felt fuzzy as he stared at their bathroom ceiling. What was he doing on the bathroom floor? What time was it even?
Rolling over to his stomach was a bad idea. His head decided to remind Sam exactly why he was laid out, incapacitated on the floor.
He felt his stomach turn until he was retching.
“Are you- Are you puking in there? Gross, man, I’m going to use our spare bathroom. Me and Crowley are going out to do something for a bit; I’ll be back shortly.”
Sam heard his brother’s boots stamp across the floor, and he almost wanted to cry out for help or beg Dean to stay.
“De…” Sam coughed on the accumulation of saliva in his mouth and groaned.
He had never felt more defeated in his life than he did now, lying next to a pool of his own vomit, begging his big brother to come back when he knew in his heart he was already drifting away.
The worst of all: it was all his fault.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The vomit was a bit tricky to clean, especially when Sam felt like the inside of his brain was being torn apart.
He did his best to ignore the stench and scrubbed to the best of his ability. He didn’t want Dean to come home and discover the mess and draw the wrong conclusions. It was way too easy to anger his brother nowadays, and Sam didn’t want to get drawn into that, least of all today.
When black spots began to dance across his vision, Sam decided to lie back down in hopes of getting rid of his migraine.
Sam wasn’t sure when exactly he dozed off, but he woke briefly when he heard Dean move around the bunker. The comforting pattern of his brother removing his jacket and keys, going to the bathroom real quick, and sliding his boots off coaxed him back into sleep before he could register just how bad things had gotten.
~*~*~*~*~*~
A sharp pain lanced through his abdomen, making him gasp. Sam moaned and did his best to breathe through the pain, but it didn’t seem to let go of its hold. Cramps began to assault his stomach, making his ribs hurt from how tight his muscles were seizing.
Squeezing his eyes closed, Sam was horrified to discover tears beginning to leak out.
This is bad. Moaning in pain, Sam held his stomach and did a blind grab for his phone on the nightstand.
“Urg…” Sam grunted as his hand connected with the nightstand harshly, sending the contents on top skidding across the floor. “No,” Sam moaned out in despair. Opening his eyes again, Sam shakily removed his tight grip around his stomach and lifted his shirt up. Dark purple and blue bruises peppered his left side in an array of patterns. He didn’t have long to stare at them, or wonder how he got them, before his head began to join in the assault.
The tension and anxiety was(were) making his blood pressure rise, thus ratcheting his migraine up to an 11 on the pain scale.
Dean. He needed Dean. It was the last thing he registered before he succumbed to darkness again.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Awareness came back to him slowly.
Sounds and smells filtered through his unconscious, which made him breathe slowly so as not to overwhelm his senses. Sam moaned as he tried to open his eyes, but he could only manage to open them to a sliver.
What he saw first was his brother.
The relief that flooded him at that moment was so palpable he was sure he could reach out and touch it if he tried.
The pain of earlier is(was) forgotten as he watched his brother pitter around the room. Dean was efficient, yet silent as he left the room for a moment then returned with a cold washcloth in hand.
Closing his eyes as Dean approached, Sam sighed when the cold washcloth was then set atop his eyes and forehead. The cold numbed the ache that was beginning to settle behind his eyes and soothed him into a restful sleep.
He couldn’t mistake the feeling of Dean softly talking, however, or his hand gently brushing against his arm.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Sammy?”
Sam mumbled something unintelligible and winced when his brother pulled his eyelid back to shine a light on his pupil.
“Sorry, didn’t realize you were awake,” Dean apologized.
Sam took a second to blink rapidly to be able to see clearly before his brother finally came into focus.
Dean leaned over him with penlight in hand, looking every bit concerned and worried. His stubble was a lot heavier than when Sam saw him last, if anything it seemed like a full-fledged beard at this point.
“You look like shit,” Sam rasped out, surprised at how rusty he sounded.
Dean snorted and then closed his eyes as if relief coursed through him when Sam spoke. “Thanks a lot, asshole, you too.”
It was something in the way Dean spoke that concerned Sam. Furrowing his brows, Sam tried to figure out what exactly happened to cause Dean to be so wound up.
“What happened?” Sam asked as he tried to push himself up in bed, not his bed as he noted the different comforters.
His arms were more shaky than he first imagined, however; Dean wound up having to help him up the rest of the way to a sitting position.
“You don’t remember?” Dean questioned with a look of disbelief.
“Not really.” Sam shrugged, trying to catalog whether anything felt off or hurt in any way.
Dean snorted again, but this time he looked angry. Sam was left confused, trying to figure out how he angered Dean this time.
“I almost had a heart attack, Sam, finding you unconscious in your bed. I swear, if I had…” Dean bit off another curse, shaking his head. That was when Sam realized that Dean wasn’t angry at him, but at himself.
The previous day’s events quickly began to flood his consciousness as he remembered his headache from hell that just wouldn’t go away. “Dean…” Sam began, intending to not only apologize but set his brother straight. It wasn’t his fault; the sole blame lay on Sam himself for not doing something sooner.
“Don’t,” Dean bit off harshly.
Sam watched as Dean settled in the chair he kept in his room, and his worn boots found their way onto the edge of the bed as he propped his legs up. Sam waited a few minutes before Dean started speaking again.
“It’s my fault. I was out busy with Crowley doing my best to ignore you and what you said, but it turns out you needed me, and I wasn’t there.”
“Dean, it was my fault, Not yours. I’m my own person, and I’m sorry my words hurt you, but I’m a grown man and have responsibility over myself. I should have told you that something was wrong way before it got so bad.” Sam twisted his hands in the sheets before he continued. “I-I get that you’re pissed at me, and that’s fine, I suppose, but I never wanted you to stop being my brother. I will always need you, okay? But you have to understand that I’m an adult now, and after everything we’ve been through? Those needs change, Dean, but the sentiment behind it stays the same.” Taking a big breath, Sam waited in anticipation for Dean to respond. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, so much so that Sam was sure Dean could hear it.
Dean swallowed a few times before he started to speak. “I can’t say I’m not hurt because I am, but I’m sorry I let you down. I’ve been a pretty shitty brother as of late, and I’m sorry for that.”
Sam cracked a smile. “We’re a sad bunch, aren’t we?”
Dean laughed, but it sounded watery to Sam’s ears. He hoped his words had gotten across to Dean.
Sam watched as Dean scrubbed a shaky hand down across his face before frowning.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Dude, I really need to shave.”
With that, Sam felt as if maybe everything would be alright.
The End