Summary: Sam and Dean are on a hunt for a garden variety ghost when a drunk driver derails their plans and may just change their lives forever. Sam suffers a debilitating injury and Dean is left to pick up the pieces.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I gain nothing from this story but the pure enjoyment of putting this idea out there. I don't have any power over the show, it's wonderful characters, or franchise and take no gratuity in return.
Dean rushed over to the side of the road where the sharp edge of the Impala's metallic bumper slide off of the hillside. He'd only stopped to take a leek and had made a snide remark in Sam's general direction that he'd let sleeping beauty rest while he went to take care of mans business in the dingy little rest stop bathroom. He'd barley unzipped his fly and set his plan into motion when a loud crash and the unmistakable crunch of metal colliding with metal. At first he'd thought nothing of it, a crash on the passing highway, to speed clutched truckers trying to make it to their next drop off with no sleep and too many truck stop burgers, but something deep inside him told him it was more.
Quickly Dean zipped up his tattered jeans and fled the tiny wooden enclosure, his eye's just catching the last bit of his prized Chevy Impala as it slipped off the ledge. Instinctively he looked around expecting to see Sam standing stunned at the side of the scene trying to come up with a quick story as to what happened and why he hadn't stopped it, but Sam wasn't there. A deep chill radiated down Dean's spine and his heart dropped to his knees. An instant later pure adrenaline took over and his feet propelled him towards the now steaming hood of a black Ford f-250 resting perpendicularly to where the Impala had been only moments earlier. The only sign there'd been any altercation at all; the trucks crinkled bumper and a piece of the Impala's quarter panel laying next to the broken guardrail at the edge of the parking space.
Saaaaaammmmmm! Dean screamed his voice grinding the gravel around him from its shear terror and intensity. He feared what he would see once he reached the edge. He mentally kicked himself for not checking the distance when he'd parked, but he'd been so focused on peeing he hadn't paid attention.
The driver of the 250 staggered from his door, blood trickling down his tan polo shirt. "What the hell…The man stated his eyes unfocussed. I think I hit a dam dear." At that he chucked and shook his head.
Dean could practically smell the vodka radiating off him as he spoke. He had to fight every instinct he had not to grab the bastards neck and twist putting him out of his misery for his blatant disregard for other people, but didn't as his main concern was his brother, who at the moment was nowhere in sight. The second he reached the break in the guardrail he froze to afraid he'd only see a gathering of harsh black sea rocks and a whisp of fresh Oregon ocean surf on the other side. No sign of his car and more importantly what it held inside
With a shattered breath and a prayer to the God Sam believed existed, Dean peered over the edge and practically fell to his shaking knees as the impala rested only twelve feet down nestled in a collection of sand and softened sea wood.
Dean quickly pushed past the driver of the truck and nosey onlookers ignoring the steep drop off and practically flew to the passenger side of the car. Did Sammy have his seat belt on? Was he awake? Was he ok? Everything ran through Dean's mind as he slid down the side and stuck his boots in sinking sand. The car was at a 45 degree angel propped precariously against the hill side and the ground below.
To Deans relieved pleasure Sam was shaking his head and struggling to right himself as Dean grasped the door handle and yanked it open. "Sam! Sammy", he bellowed waiting for him to give any signs he was ok. Sam had a large cut on his right temple and blood decorating his button down shirt and new pair of jeans he'd bought after the last hunt destroyed his other pair. He seemed dazed but coherent and Dean couldn't help but display the smile of relief he had all over his face. "Sammy you ok man, some drunk of piece of shit just shoved your skinny ass off the side of the hill. You scared the shit out of me, man."
Sam's eyes flew wide open at the sound of his brothers voice. They were unfocussed and sluggish, but clear and pristine. He'd felt the collision, had only a fraction of a second to react, and had tried to unbuckle his seat belt and flee the car as he felt it go over. The next thing he knew his head was pressed into the dashboard, his face was bleeding, and his brothers voice was assaulting his ears.
Sam turned to greet his brother but found something else beat him to it. There were sounds all around him, placating his stinging senses but there was no light, no shapes, no lop sided backwards grin on Deans face. Only darkness and his brother now escalating freighted voice. Invisible hands pulled him sideways and slipped him out of the car. It was then, when he knew he should have seen Deans face, that the panic out weighed the pain and he freaked out.
"Sammy what, what is it. You ok man, you're scaring me, say something man, dam it Sam what!" Dean demanded worry now dripping from every syllable. "Dean, Sam began tentatively. I, I can't see. I can't see Dean. Oh my fucking God, Dean. Sam grabbed Deans shirt with hidden strength. Dean I can's see!"
A/N: Please be gentle this is my first fanfic EVER that I've actually written down and submitted. I'm still trying to figure out the system and see if anybody even wants to read what I have to write. I would appreciate reviews for or against and would love any and all ideas or suggestions. I'm writing this on a whim so it may need some fine tuning when I'm not so tired. If you would like to read more let me know and I'll continue my story. Thanks in advance and thanks for reading!