I'm back on it, the fics to be finished are underway and they're all getting a polish. This is for simpler times. Not just for the Winchesters, but back when I was 13. Season one ofcourse.
Summary: Wendigo. Sam's driven on finding John but is he missing something that could end up hurting him? Hurt Sam. Big bro Dean! S1
Warning: Boo you whore, I own nothing. I just swear and drink a lot, the odd smoke.
Disclaimer: I don't think I own my own sanity half the time.
One more thing...enjoy!
"Sam, you know we're going to find Dad right?" Dean looked earnestly over at his younger brother slouched against the Chevy. He wasn't openly saying anything but Dean could tell with the brooding eyes and silent stare into nothing look Sam had going on, just what, or who he was thinking about.
"Yeah." Sam sighed. "But until then, I'm driving." He glanced across to Dean, a small wan smile playing on his lips.
Dean shrugged and tossed him the keys.
Except maybe he shouldn't have driven at all.
Just two hours into the drive Sam wasn't coping so well.
Dean took the chance to grab some sleep whilst Sam took the wheel, on the rare occasion that Sam did drive Dean intended to get as much out of it as he could. His head ached like a bitch and he was looking forward to the pull of warm sleep. Dean let himself lean back into the seat and the familiar pull of the cars engine rocked him into a peaceful slumber.
That was until he woke up to grab a comfier position and saw Sam squinting at the road, pale and shaking and fisting the steering wheel so hard it was a miracle he could steer at all.
"Sammy?" Dean blinked, sleep being shook from his mind as the brother instincts took over and he was awake, alert, on edge, trying to find out why Sam looked so...shitty.
Sam gasped, his eyes doing the wide what-I-wasn't-doing-anything gawk to them and he pushed himself to look relaxed back into the seat.
"You're awake." Sam graveled. Eyes blinking again as if he couldn't clear them.
"Yeah, man...you should pull over, I think you need some sleep more than me." Dean was already checking ahead on the road they were on, hands reaching for the indicator.
"Nuh...it's...it's fine. It's fine Dean." Sam gripped the wheel tighter.
Dean frowned and watched his brother. He had a bad feeling about Sam.
The pinched lines around his mouth and eyes, the way his eyes almost forced themselves to shut and the heavy...almost pained breathing.
"Yeah...you said that. Pull over man." Dean sat up stiffly. Next motel, he was stopping, they both needed some down time.
"Okay." Sam said, more withdrawn than usual. When the car came to a stop, he just sat there...like a damn zombie.
"Sam? You sure you're okay?" How long had he been asleep anyway? Sam wasn't this spaced when they set off.
Sam swallowed and closed his eyes, a frown on his brow. "Yeah, I think so."
Dean's eyes widened and downright stared at Sam.
"You thin-Okay. Alright, you move over. I'm driving and we're taking the next place with a bed."
Dean had to drag Sam over to move him and even then it looked painful, he was beginning to think the paramedic missed something back in BlackWater.
Sam sagged back in the passenger seat, a sigh escaping his lips as he closed his eyes.
"Forget it, next place with a roof." Dean muttered and hit the gas.
Turns out, that was about ten minutes down the road and with a double room paid for, for a week. Sam was getting sorted the hell out.
"Sammy, hey? Man? Wake up."
Dean patted Sam's face and two very unaware uneven pupils blinked up at him.
"Okay Sam. We're getting you inside." Dean grunted. His own hurts and bruises well and truly forgotten.
Sam groaned as he was pulled up, walked with uncoordinated legs as Dean held on to him, or he held on to Dean, he wasn't sure until the cold stopped and the light and something soft was under him.
Sam bent down, his head in his hands on the bed and Dean stood in front of him.
"Okay, you start explaining or-"
Dean looked down to the hand he was pointing at Sam...it was...
Sam looked up, wincing. "What?" He whispered.
"Sam...there's blood on my hand."
"What? Ar-are you hurt, Dean I-"
"No. Sam, it's not mine."
Sam had about three seconds to look up with his best confused face.
"Uh...Dean...I don't feel so g'd."
Sam tipped back, his eyes rolling as he paled and Dean rushed forward to shake Sam.
Dean cupped Sam's back and the nape of his neck and felt...
"Sammy, you stupid son of a bitch." Dean sighed, pulling his hand back a new red. "Why didn't you say something?"
Dean tilted Sam's body and probed up, gently feeling through Sam's matted hair until-
"Aw, shit." Dean grunted.
Sam winced as Dean touched the tank sized tear on the back of his head.
"Yeah...and I'm letting you drive again."
Dean packed the gauze and pressed it in place, sought about the saline and the disinfectant, even the morphine (whiskey) and the stitches. It seemed like this would need them.
Sam moved beneath him and two pale slits opened as Sam looked up.
"What...are you d'n to m'head?" Sam tried to bring his arms up to move the ache in his head.
"Fixing it. Sam, don't touch it. You sit for hours in the car and you don't tell me you're bleeding all the way? Did you not get checked out by the paramedics on purpose or something?"
Sam frowned at Dean's raising voice. "It was...wasn't a big deal. Fell through...the, the mine shaft."
"You fell? You hit your head? You fell down a freaking mine shaft, bleed for hours and not bother to tell me? What part of that was a good idea huh?"
Dean wasn't all too gentle in his administrations, but he wasn't mad at Sam, he was just pissed and worried and- how could Sam not share something like this?!
Sam gave a small, high smile. "F-found you didn't I?"
"Yeah well, If I hadn't of found this:" Dean pressed the gauze tighter than he needed and Sam groaned. "You'd be bleeding to death or we'd be wrapped around a tree."
There was a beat and Sam looked down.
"Sorry." Sam whispered, his eyes shut.
Dean sighed. "Yeah I know. Hey, can you sit up in a sec? I might need to stitch this."
Sam pulled a face, made a sound at the back of his throat.
"I know, if it's not too deep we can get away with the glue."
Dean slowly pulled Sam up, let him lean against his chest as he checked out the gash just under Sam's hairline.
"Dean" Sam swallowed, pinched face. "Do you think we'll find Dad?"
Dean paused, a few clues coming together and squeezed Sam's shoulder.
"Try not to worry about that right now. Sooner or later we'll find him or he'll find us. We just have to take care of ourselves on the way...okay?"
He felt Sam give the smallest nod.
"Just, promise me next time you'll tell me if you're hurt? Dad can wait, alright? We're no good to him dead."
Sam breathed out. "Yeah."
Dean felt Sam expand his lungs and release the breath again.
"The glue should be fine."
He felt Sam relax.
This he could handle, so he wasn't Dad, but he could still fix his little brother.