lostt1
in
spn_heraea
Gas Station (Team Angst)
Title: Somewhere a Clock is Ticking
Author: lostt1
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1530
Spoilers: S2 Finale
Notes: Much love to __tiana__. For the prompt 'Gas Station.' Title from Snow Patrol.
Tick, Tick, Tick
Sam could measure his life in time.
He spent the first twenty-three years resenting his father and the life he forced him to live followed by one year wishing he’d had more time to make amends. Five months passed between applying to Stanford and finally finding the thick envelope in his mailbox. Another two passed before he got up the courage to actually leave. It took Sam thirty-six days to work up the courage to ask Jess out. Eight more before she said yes. Fifteen minutes spent sitting by a fire, trying to warm aching muscles. Fifteen seconds to feel the same warmth seep into the ground beneath his knees, washed away in a sea of red.
One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. Eight thousand sixty hours. Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes. Thirty-one million, five hundred thirty-six thousand seconds. That’s all the time Sam has left to save Dean.
Sam leaned against the window, the glass cool against his forehead. The world rushed by in a depressing blur of blacks and grays. Wyoming was six hours behind them, each minute weighing heavily on Sam’s mind. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the faint ticking of a phantom clock, could see the grains of sand as they emptied into the heavy bottom of an hourglass. Each minute that passed was one more minute of Dean’s life they just wasted.
Sam had no clue where to begin.
Tick, Tick, Tick
“Earth to Sam!”
Sam shot up, his knee slamming into the dashboard. He muttered a soft curse and blinked, momentarily blinded by the glare of artificial light.
Dean glanced at Sam and grinned. “You want anything?” he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the gas station.
Sam stared at his brother, slightly unnerved by how happy he seemed to be. Dean’s mouth was stretched wide with a bright smile showcasing neat white teeth, the lines around his eyes deep with humor. With every mile, his good mood seemed to grow larger. He sang along with the radio, his fingers tapping out a steady rhythm. Dean was truly happy for the first time in a long time. And Sam…
Same felt more like he was drowning, feeling ice cold water rush over his head when he was still miles from the shore.
Sam twisted his lips into what he hoped would pass as a smile but felt more like a grimace. “Just get me something to drink. Coffee.”
“No food?” Dean asked, sliding out from behind the wheel.
Sam climbed out of the car and stretched, the movement doing nothing to relieve the tension knotted up in his tired muscles. He could feel Dean’s eyes on him, watching him, suffocating him with his stare. “No thanks, I’m good.”
He hasn’t eaten in twelve hours. He doesn’t think he could keep it down if he tried.
Sam glanced toward his brother, saw his hesitation. Dean was biting his lip as if there were something more he should say, unspoken thoughts he couldn’t find the words to describe. Sam stared at the sharp line of Dean’s jaw and the days-old stubble that darkens fair skin. He watched white teeth worry the tender flesh of his lip. Sam kept his eyes low, unable to meet Dean’s gaze, not ready to see all of Dean’s secrets laid bare. To see the pain, the hope, the joy that resides there. To see the unwavering love. The love that made him give up everything so that Sam could live another day.
“I gotta…” Sam started, nodding his head in the direction of the bathroom.
“Whatever, Princess,” Dean shrugged. “Go make yourself pretty. Then we need to get back on the road. Miles to go before we sleep.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
One word. One word that meant so much more for the two of them, said everything that was best left unsaid between them. Sam choked back a sob and turned away.
One word. But at least it wasn’t the last word.
Tick, Tick, Tick
Sam stared at his reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror. He splashed cold water on his face, noting the dark shadows, the dull color of his eyes, the pallor of his skin. Jess would have said he looked like death warmed over. He figured that was a fairly accurate description.
Three days.
He had been dead for three days. Three days when his heart didn’t beat, didn’t pump blood through his veins. Three days when his chest didn’t rise and fall, pushing oxygen through his lungs. Three days when he did nothing, when he was nothing.
He had been dead for three days. Alive for two more. His blessing, Dean’s curse.
Sam ran a hand across his face, cool fingers attempting to wipe away the thoughts lingering in his mind. He leaned forward, gripping the yellowed porcelain and stared hard at the man in the mirror. He narrowed his eyes, not sure what he was looking for. He knew he wouldn’t find the answers he was looking for in the rusted out, dirty bathroom of a small town gas station.
His mind raced, each thought coming and going with such speed he couldn’t hold on to them all. He closed his eyes and hung his head, chin resting on his chest. Sam tried to clear his mind, to think of nothing more than each slow inhale, each soft exhale. In, out. In, out. He blocked out the sound of the occasional car as it rushed down the highway just outside, the steady drip of water from the leaky faucet, the skitter of a rat as it crawled around beyond the wall. He managed to block out all sounds except for one.
Tick, Tick, Tick
Sam stared at his wrist. He brushed his thumb across the face of the watch, stared at the second hand as it continued its steady journey. The watch had been a gift from Jess, a ‘you’ve done good, Sam.’ She told him that it represented their relationship, always moving, never stopping. Jess and Sam, always and forever. But forever wasn’t that long. The second hand kept its steady pace and time moved on. The promise of forever wasn’t much of a promise after all.
One year.
Sam felt a knot of tension build between his shoulder blades. The leather strap seemed to constrict, pulling tight against the soft skin of his wrist. He removed the watch and looked into the mirror once more.
Tick, Tick, Tick
Sam was overwhelmed, the pressure of time threatening to drag him under. There was never enough time. Not for Jess. Not for Dean. Not for him. The tension in his chest grew. His stomach twisted in knots and Sam felt like he needed to throw up. He needed more time but the world kept right on spinning, leaving him behind. Feeling helpless, he lashed out, smashing his fist into the mirror. The glass shattered, his image cracking into a million tiny pieces.
With an angry sob, Sam let his body slump to the ground. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face into the harsh denim. The watch clattered against the concrete next to him.
A heavy knock sounded at the door. “Hey Sam, need me to hold it for you?”
Sam wanted to look up, to go to Dean and smile, to pretend nothing was wrong. He was alive, after all. But he felt frozen, his head and heart heavy, weighed down by time.
The weight of the world. Maybe. The weight of Dean’s world. Absolutely.
The door creaked as Dean pushed it open, it’s hinges protesting every inch. “Sam?”
Sam couldn’t look up. He kept his eyes pressed to his knees, concentrated on holding himself together.
“Sam?” Dean’s voice was close. Sam could hear the scuff of his boots against the concrete.
Sam. His name was barely more than a whisper. Dean’s hand brushed against his elbow, his touch soft, questioning. One touch and the walls Sam had spent the entire night erecting crumbled into dust. His body shook, wracked with angry sobs. Sam reached out and grabbed at the smooth leather of Dean’s jacket and tugged him forward. Dean toppled over, landing heavily on the ground. Sam wrapped his arms around his brother and squeezed, pulled him closer, wanting to feel the steady rhythm of Dean’s heart against his chest.
“Shhhh, it’s ok,” Dean said, his voice low and comforting. He curled his hand in Sam’s hair, twisting the soft strands around his fingers. Sam buried his face in Dean’s neck, taking every bit of comfort Dean was willing to give him. Dean pulled back, forcing Sam to look him in the eyes. “It’s ok. We’ve got time.”
Sam leaned forward, pressing his lips to Dean’s in a violent kiss. Dean’s hand wrapped around the back of Sam’s neck, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
We’ve got time.
To the side, Sam could still hear the watch ticking off every second.
One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. Eight thousand sixty hours. Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes. Thirty-one million, five hundred thirty-six thousand seconds.
Tick, Tick, Ti...
Author: lostt1
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1530
Spoilers: S2 Finale
Notes: Much love to __tiana__. For the prompt 'Gas Station.' Title from Snow Patrol.
Tick, Tick, Tick
Sam could measure his life in time.
He spent the first twenty-three years resenting his father and the life he forced him to live followed by one year wishing he’d had more time to make amends. Five months passed between applying to Stanford and finally finding the thick envelope in his mailbox. Another two passed before he got up the courage to actually leave. It took Sam thirty-six days to work up the courage to ask Jess out. Eight more before she said yes. Fifteen minutes spent sitting by a fire, trying to warm aching muscles. Fifteen seconds to feel the same warmth seep into the ground beneath his knees, washed away in a sea of red.
One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. Eight thousand sixty hours. Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes. Thirty-one million, five hundred thirty-six thousand seconds. That’s all the time Sam has left to save Dean.
Sam leaned against the window, the glass cool against his forehead. The world rushed by in a depressing blur of blacks and grays. Wyoming was six hours behind them, each minute weighing heavily on Sam’s mind. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the faint ticking of a phantom clock, could see the grains of sand as they emptied into the heavy bottom of an hourglass. Each minute that passed was one more minute of Dean’s life they just wasted.
Sam had no clue where to begin.
Tick, Tick, Tick
“Earth to Sam!”
Sam shot up, his knee slamming into the dashboard. He muttered a soft curse and blinked, momentarily blinded by the glare of artificial light.
Dean glanced at Sam and grinned. “You want anything?” he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the gas station.
Sam stared at his brother, slightly unnerved by how happy he seemed to be. Dean’s mouth was stretched wide with a bright smile showcasing neat white teeth, the lines around his eyes deep with humor. With every mile, his good mood seemed to grow larger. He sang along with the radio, his fingers tapping out a steady rhythm. Dean was truly happy for the first time in a long time. And Sam…
Same felt more like he was drowning, feeling ice cold water rush over his head when he was still miles from the shore.
Sam twisted his lips into what he hoped would pass as a smile but felt more like a grimace. “Just get me something to drink. Coffee.”
“No food?” Dean asked, sliding out from behind the wheel.
Sam climbed out of the car and stretched, the movement doing nothing to relieve the tension knotted up in his tired muscles. He could feel Dean’s eyes on him, watching him, suffocating him with his stare. “No thanks, I’m good.”
He hasn’t eaten in twelve hours. He doesn’t think he could keep it down if he tried.
Sam glanced toward his brother, saw his hesitation. Dean was biting his lip as if there were something more he should say, unspoken thoughts he couldn’t find the words to describe. Sam stared at the sharp line of Dean’s jaw and the days-old stubble that darkens fair skin. He watched white teeth worry the tender flesh of his lip. Sam kept his eyes low, unable to meet Dean’s gaze, not ready to see all of Dean’s secrets laid bare. To see the pain, the hope, the joy that resides there. To see the unwavering love. The love that made him give up everything so that Sam could live another day.
“I gotta…” Sam started, nodding his head in the direction of the bathroom.
“Whatever, Princess,” Dean shrugged. “Go make yourself pretty. Then we need to get back on the road. Miles to go before we sleep.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
One word. One word that meant so much more for the two of them, said everything that was best left unsaid between them. Sam choked back a sob and turned away.
One word. But at least it wasn’t the last word.
Tick, Tick, Tick
Sam stared at his reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror. He splashed cold water on his face, noting the dark shadows, the dull color of his eyes, the pallor of his skin. Jess would have said he looked like death warmed over. He figured that was a fairly accurate description.
Three days.
He had been dead for three days. Three days when his heart didn’t beat, didn’t pump blood through his veins. Three days when his chest didn’t rise and fall, pushing oxygen through his lungs. Three days when he did nothing, when he was nothing.
He had been dead for three days. Alive for two more. His blessing, Dean’s curse.
Sam ran a hand across his face, cool fingers attempting to wipe away the thoughts lingering in his mind. He leaned forward, gripping the yellowed porcelain and stared hard at the man in the mirror. He narrowed his eyes, not sure what he was looking for. He knew he wouldn’t find the answers he was looking for in the rusted out, dirty bathroom of a small town gas station.
His mind raced, each thought coming and going with such speed he couldn’t hold on to them all. He closed his eyes and hung his head, chin resting on his chest. Sam tried to clear his mind, to think of nothing more than each slow inhale, each soft exhale. In, out. In, out. He blocked out the sound of the occasional car as it rushed down the highway just outside, the steady drip of water from the leaky faucet, the skitter of a rat as it crawled around beyond the wall. He managed to block out all sounds except for one.
Tick, Tick, Tick
Sam stared at his wrist. He brushed his thumb across the face of the watch, stared at the second hand as it continued its steady journey. The watch had been a gift from Jess, a ‘you’ve done good, Sam.’ She told him that it represented their relationship, always moving, never stopping. Jess and Sam, always and forever. But forever wasn’t that long. The second hand kept its steady pace and time moved on. The promise of forever wasn’t much of a promise after all.
One year.
Sam felt a knot of tension build between his shoulder blades. The leather strap seemed to constrict, pulling tight against the soft skin of his wrist. He removed the watch and looked into the mirror once more.
Tick, Tick, Tick
Sam was overwhelmed, the pressure of time threatening to drag him under. There was never enough time. Not for Jess. Not for Dean. Not for him. The tension in his chest grew. His stomach twisted in knots and Sam felt like he needed to throw up. He needed more time but the world kept right on spinning, leaving him behind. Feeling helpless, he lashed out, smashing his fist into the mirror. The glass shattered, his image cracking into a million tiny pieces.
With an angry sob, Sam let his body slump to the ground. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face into the harsh denim. The watch clattered against the concrete next to him.
A heavy knock sounded at the door. “Hey Sam, need me to hold it for you?”
Sam wanted to look up, to go to Dean and smile, to pretend nothing was wrong. He was alive, after all. But he felt frozen, his head and heart heavy, weighed down by time.
The weight of the world. Maybe. The weight of Dean’s world. Absolutely.
The door creaked as Dean pushed it open, it’s hinges protesting every inch. “Sam?”
Sam couldn’t look up. He kept his eyes pressed to his knees, concentrated on holding himself together.
“Sam?” Dean’s voice was close. Sam could hear the scuff of his boots against the concrete.
Sam. His name was barely more than a whisper. Dean’s hand brushed against his elbow, his touch soft, questioning. One touch and the walls Sam had spent the entire night erecting crumbled into dust. His body shook, wracked with angry sobs. Sam reached out and grabbed at the smooth leather of Dean’s jacket and tugged him forward. Dean toppled over, landing heavily on the ground. Sam wrapped his arms around his brother and squeezed, pulled him closer, wanting to feel the steady rhythm of Dean’s heart against his chest.
“Shhhh, it’s ok,” Dean said, his voice low and comforting. He curled his hand in Sam’s hair, twisting the soft strands around his fingers. Sam buried his face in Dean’s neck, taking every bit of comfort Dean was willing to give him. Dean pulled back, forcing Sam to look him in the eyes. “It’s ok. We’ve got time.”
Sam leaned forward, pressing his lips to Dean’s in a violent kiss. Dean’s hand wrapped around the back of Sam’s neck, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
We’ve got time.
To the side, Sam could still hear the watch ticking off every second.
One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. Eight thousand sixty hours. Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes. Thirty-one million, five hundred thirty-six thousand seconds.
Tick, Tick, Ti...