Sam is hurt in a car accident with the Impala after "Lucifer Rising". He thinks it'll be another thing that Dean's mad at him about, but Dean takes care of his brother.
It's the irony of the whole situation that gets him.
There they are, driving like madmen away from the Holy Ground of the chapel where he opened the door for Lucifer, Dean's hands vise-like around the steering wheel and then...
He wakes up and wishes he hadn't. The engine of the car is still ticking every now and then, obviously not yet cooled down. Other sounds overshadow the oppressing silence. An owl is hooting in a distance, questioning. Mocking. It is answered by another owl, farther away. It's like they're talking and Sam doesn't feel so alone any more.
But he is alone. The driver seat is empty. The door wide open, hanging slightly askew. When they crashed, the impact must have twisted the hinges badly. Sam thinks it's funny that every time something bad happens to them, the Impala seems involved. Dean must be pissed. His baby suffers as much from their job, as they do. To bad he can't be repaired with some spare parts
( ... )
Sam falls down the steps and ends up with a concussion. The concussed Sammy lets loose with the fact that he thinks Dean hates him now and doesn't love him anymore. Dean convinces him otherwise and takes care of Sam when he gets sick.
Re: Part 1/3rejenerationAugust 29 2009, 13:04:09 UTC
-grinning- For never doing one of these before, you did it _perfectly_, IMHO! Slurry Sam and a sweet and caring and ridiculously present Dean are FTW. Excellent job! ♥
Unbound Part 2moonshaydeAugust 29 2009, 16:18:07 UTC
"Dean."
Dean glanced down at his hands and feet, giving them a shake for good measure. His eyes found Sam. "What's this?"
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" He jerked his hand, frowning when it didn't break loose. "You getting kinky on me, Sammy?"
Sam let the misplaced humor go. He had no desire to play Dean's little verbal sparring matches. Not when he literally had twenty minutes left with his brother.
When Sam never responded, Dean moaned and closed his eyes. Beneath the rope, he struggled, rubbing so hard against the mattress and the binding that Sam was afraid he would prematurely break one of the infected boils. Finally, he opened his eyes. "You got to let me go, Sam. I got to go."
"I can't. You're infected."
He shook his head. "I'm not sick, man. Just let me go." He squirmed again under the restraints, a light sheen of sweat now forming over his skin. "Come on, I got to go. I need to go
( ... )
Unbound Part 3moonshaydeAugust 29 2009, 16:19:19 UTC
The Impala spun its wheels over the dusty roads. The dirt kicked up like a dust storm, not only obscuring his view, but also leaving a fine coat of brown all over the finish of the car. The Impala was a mess but Sam didn't care
( ... )
Comments 408
Stanford era: Sam left. Dad left. Somehow Dean's gotta suck it up and do the job by himself.
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There they are, driving like madmen away from the Holy Ground of the chapel where he opened the door for Lucifer, Dean's hands vise-like around the steering wheel and then...
He wakes up and wishes he hadn't. The engine of the car is still ticking every now and then, obviously not yet cooled down. Other sounds overshadow the oppressing silence. An owl is hooting in a distance, questioning. Mocking. It is answered by another owl, farther away. It's like they're talking and Sam doesn't feel so alone any more.
But he is alone. The driver seat is empty. The door wide open, hanging slightly askew. When they crashed, the impact must have twisted the hinges badly. Sam thinks it's funny that every time something bad happens to them, the Impala seems involved. Dean must be pissed. His baby suffers as much from their job, as they do. To bad he can't be repaired with some spare parts ( ... )
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(Angst-level of your choosing. You don't have to go all Croatoan--though you can if you like)
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Dean glanced down at his hands and feet, giving them a shake for good measure. His eyes found Sam. "What's this?"
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" He jerked his hand, frowning when it didn't break loose. "You getting kinky on me, Sammy?"
Sam let the misplaced humor go. He had no desire to play Dean's little verbal sparring matches. Not when he literally had twenty minutes left with his brother.
When Sam never responded, Dean moaned and closed his eyes. Beneath the rope, he struggled, rubbing so hard against the mattress and the binding that Sam was afraid he would prematurely break one of the infected boils. Finally, he opened his eyes. "You got to let me go, Sam. I got to go."
"I can't. You're infected."
He shook his head. "I'm not sick, man. Just let me go." He squirmed again under the restraints, a light sheen of sweat now forming over his skin. "Come on, I got to go. I need to go ( ... )
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(also, my very first comment fic ever! I hope this is okay and even close to what you were hoping for).
A Layman's Guide to Middle English
"Fuck. Fuckfuckfucking fuck."
"Uh...you okay there, Dean?"
"Fucking McFuck fuck!"
"Dude, seriously..."
"Fuck!"
"English, dude."
"Fuck is English. They say 'fuck' in Beowulf. If it's in Beowulf it's totally English."
"Anglo-Saxon, actually."
"Do not fucking start with that whan that aprill shit, Sam."
"The droghte of marche hath"Sam ( ... )
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The boys are really screwed now. Only they would have an argument on language in a situation like this. Classic boys.
Thanks so much.
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