When they pass by the first Florida state sign, Samās lungs shrivel into the size of raisins. His fingers fidget themselves over his knees, until they settle into balled fists around the fabric of his jeans. He tries to mentally tell himself that heās just being stupid, that itās been nearly ten goddamned years since he was anywhere near this god-forsaken, piece-of-shit state and that everything is fine--just fine. But if he has to look over into the driverās seat just to reassure himself of that, no one would be privy to it, except for himself.
Dean had told him that theyād be in out, that itād be a piece of cake hunt, that theyād be back home before he knew it--no harm done. The case file was spread out on the table, the news articles of cannibalistic murders all over the Pinecrest, Florida area, highlighting Deanās sense of urgency. And in response, Sam moaned and groaned, trying to get his way out of it--even tried scouring the internet for a bigger case closer to the bunker, but his results came up empty again and again. Of course when that failed, Sam tried to fake food poisoning, tried for a full eight hours to convince his Brother that they could just call another hunter to take care of it. But eventually Dean called him out on his bullshit, sitting down on the edge of Samās bed and gently squeezing his shoulder, knowing without having to hear it, what the huge charade was all about. He was quiet for a second, but then proceeded to tell Sam that it was just a simple Rugaru hunt, that theyād be in and out and on their way back to the bunker in no time.
Less than half a day later they hit the road and Samās been taking shallow breaths ever since. His heart squeezing tighter as it sinks further into his pelvis with every city sign they fly by, the map on his phone indicating that Pinecrest is just a breath away from the place-that-shall-not-be-named. The back of his neck breaks into a sweat, his molars worry a nasty sore into the side of his cheek, and his eyes pace endlessly back and forth between the windshield and Dean. As though, if he doesnāt keep an eye on his Brother, heāll just up and disappear into thin air.
āQuit worryinā,ā Dean coaxes, sensing Samās growing anxiety in the passenger seat. āItās fine, Sammy--I promise.ā
āI know itās stupid, Dean. I mean, the practical part of me knows that, but you have to understand what it was like to...to have to live through that. I ca-- I canāt do that ever again.ā Samās words hang in the air between them and they look just as horrible as they feel to say.
Deanās hand reaches over and tangles itself effortlessly around Samās. Deanās thumb soothingly makes circles on the back of Samās hand, before giving a gentle squeeze. āI know, Sammy. Sorry you had to go through that back then, but you gotta know that was so long ago and Iām here, right here. Nothingās gonna happen, no funny business.ā
āThe sooner we can gank this son-of-a-bitch, the sooner we can get out of here.ā Sam clings to Deanās words of encouragement and gives a soft squeeze back to Dean.
āI never meant to be so bad to you, one thing I said that I would never doā¦.ā
A distant sound, almost song-like hangs in the air as Sam trailsĀ behind Dean. Both of their guns are firmly pitted against the palm of their hands, up and pointed, ready for whatever may greet them. Thereās a hallway before them and itās pitch black at the end, but it seems to go on forever. Strange noises sound within the darkness before them and both of their backs stiffen with anticipation.
āOne thing led to another, we were young, and we would scream together songs unsung.ā
Samās chest squeezes tightly as his ears begin to make out the words of a song he swore he never wanted to hear another day in his life. He stops in his tracks, his raised hand falling to his side, finger still on the trigger. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut and tells his mind to knock it the fuck off, thereās no time for this highlight reel through one of the darkest times of his life. And when he finally opens his eyes again, the darkness before him seems even more menacing, the shadow of his Brotherās body barely detectable.
He tries to make a sound to catch Deanās attention, but Dean just raises his left hand and points him further into the hall. The hunter instinct in Sam has his feet pacing forward again, the claws in his stomach digging deeper with every step he takes. Something from Deanās left catches his attention and Sam watches as Dean raises his left hand and tells him to hold up, before he disappears from the hallway. Samās ribs constrict even tighter as he swears worryingly under his breath, āJust-in-and-out, my assā¦ā
āSon-of-a-bitch!ā Dean shouts loudly, his gun firing off on the tail of his words.
Samās spine jolts, his stomach falling straight out of his body as his heart stops beating. āDean? What--ā But his words are cut off from his mouth when he rears around the same corner his Brother had, his feet shuffling on the floor.
To his shock, Dean lies in a heap on the floor, his right hand clutching at his chest. āDean! Hey?!ā He runs forward, his attention solely on his Brother, the rest of the world around him fading into a blur. And as the edges of reality become less and less defined, the clearer in sound that horrible song gets. Samās barely got his hands on Dean, barely has got a good look at the damage, when the screeching music gets louder than his eardrums can handle.
ā'Cause it was the heat of the moment, telling me what your heart meant. The heat of the moment shone in your eyes.ā
Deanās hand reaches for Samās shoulder, his fingers digging bruises, but the music is so loud that Sam canāt even see through the blind panic itās sent him into. His heart is stalled in his ribs and his arms shake around the heaviness of his Brotherās body, the scent of death is bold and raw around him. He tries to tell himself to breathe, but the more he tries to find focus of his breaths, the more he loses them in the noise of the music. The world in front of him blurs to white and his lungs seize with the mighty swing of desperation.
āNo-no..not again--NOT AGAIN!ā Are the only words that break free from his lips. He repeats them over and over, repeats them until his tongue feels like cement in his mouth--until he feels his body falling backwards.
The chorus of the song stretches in pitch and slows. āāCause it was the heat of the moment, telling me what your heart meant.ā And with it is an indistinguishable yell that Sam canāt quite make out.
Samās head slams against something hard and his eyes slam open, as though theyāve been closed the entire time. The minute they open, the music shuts off and the yell becomes crystal clear.
āSam-Sammy?!ā Deanās voice is rough and filled with worry. āHey--hey, there you are...there you are.ā Deanās bruising fingers move from Samās shoulder and come to cradle his face, Deanās calloused fingers sweeping loose hair from Samās eyes.
The world around Sam starts to sink in, his bedroom walls surround him, his bedside lamp on and toppled over. His legs are tangled in bed sheets and thereās an undeniable layer of sweat drenching his entire body. And then thereās Dean, alive and well, breathing and looking down at Sam like he always does when the nightmares come back again. Thereās sorrow in his eyes, but comfort in his voice when he repeats soothing lines, bringing Sam slowly back to center.
āIt was just a dream. Iām here-Iām here.ā Deanās voice lulls, his arms pulling Samās body away from the edge of the bed and aligning it next to his. Sam moves easily with Deanās instruction, laying his head in his Brotherās lap, the heat of tears stinging the back of his eyes. āItās been awhile since youāve had one this bad; couldnāt get ya to wake up.ā
Sam just clings to Deanās legs and tries to let the soothing motion of Deanās fingers smoothing his hair back, pull the rest of the dream off his body. And he wonders quietly to himself if heāll ever feel safe again, or if his life will always be in shambles--with either reality or dreams trying to take the one thing that has ever mattered to him, away.
āIāve gotcha...Iāve gotcha..ā Dean says over and over. And when Sam starts to cry, Dean doesnāt flinch, just moves his hand to Samās back and draws protective sigils. Does it even though they both know the dreams will still come, knows that if itās not this one, then it will be The Cage. Or a burning ceiling. Or angelic possession. Or any other number of things that have haunted Samās dreams over the years.
Sam focuses on Deanās voice, on the delicate movement of his fingers at his back, hoping and praying that when his eyes do close again--itāll be those things that will carry him through the fire of his mind. That theyāll plant him safely on the other side of it all, and finally let his weary mind find some much needed peace.
52 Weeks of Sam & Dean (Ao3)
buticancarryyou vs @whoaeasytiger
Prompt #30: Another Tuesday (Ao3)
See Roseās Version Ā (Ao3) Ā