![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Five Times Dean Was Truly Afraid
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Fandom: SPN
Rating: PG (language)
Category: Dean/Sam (gen)
Words: 1,593
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: Vague for 2.03
~1~
He’d promised.
He’d promised.
“Sam!” Dean called raggedly, his Father’s voice running through his head.
You stay in the car and watch out for Sammy, in case it circles back
Dean had gotten worried.
Dean had made Sam promise to stay in the car while he went across the field when their Father hadn’t returned for an hour.
He’d been gone all of five minutes and when he got back to the car, the door was sitting open and Sam was gone.
Gone.
“Sammy!” Dean tried again, panic now colouring his voice. His heart was beating rabbit-quick and he felt sweat spring up on his upper lip. Dean swiped at it with the back of his hand.
“What?” Sam emerged from a stand of trees a couple of feet away, doing up his belt.
“What? What? Where the fuck were you?” Dean demanded, only now relaxing his grip on the pistol in his left hand.
“I had to take a piss. Geez,” Sam grumbled, launching himself into the back seat and digging around until he came up with his book, head disappearing behind the cover.
Dean leaned into the car and wrenched the book out of Sam’s hands, tearing it into pieces with a frustrated yell. It was either that or drag Sam from the car and shake him until he rattled.
On the way home, Sam complained bitterly about the destroyed book, his Dad asked him why he had to always annoy his brother and Dean just let it all wash over him.
~2~
He paused in the doorway of the motel room while Sam slung their bags into the trunk. It looked like he was surveying the room, making sure they hadn’t forgotten anything, but really Dean was taking measured breaths.
”I moved it…”
With his mind.
Sam had moved something with his mind.
Missouri had given him a lot of crap, but as they were leaving her place back in Lawrence, she’d grabbed his hand and had waited for Sam to move out of earshot.
“You look out for him, you hear,” she’d said and Dean had furrowed his brow.
“I always-“
“No, you don’t understand. You look out for him.” There was something in her expression that had made an icy tendril of dread curl up Dean’s spine. “There may… there may come a time where he doesn’t… rightly know what he’s doing.”
Dean had laughed and shrugged her off but now…
You look out for him…
~3~
“Stupid son of a …” Dean was grumbling as he forced his way through the crowds.
They were at a club, a seedy back alley place that a couple of local teenagers had gone to and had never made it home and now Dean had lost sight of Sam in the press. Fingers caught on his shirt and jacket as he elbowed his way through the thronging mass and quickly the trailing touches were becoming rough grabs.
Dean, on instinct, started throwing elbows, ducking and weaving.
“Sam!” he called, his voice lost in the thumping music. Despite the crowd he should have been able to see Sam still, head and sometimes shoulders above the rest but there was no sign.
Something caught his ankle and Dean went down onto his hands and knees. He felt a boot press into his shoulder, trying to force him the rest of the way down and he rolled sideways instead, coming up in a crouch. A hand came out of nowhere and raked bloody furrows into his cheek and that was when Dean stopped playing nice and started throwing punches.
Something solid came out of the darkness and Dean arrested its arc, a hairs breadth away from his temple. He twisted up and sideways viciously, yanking the object out of the attacker’s grasp and found he had hold of a tire iron.
Still the music played on.
Still bodies writhed around him.
Dean started swinging. There were harsh cries and he felt blood spatter his face and arms, but whenever he cleared a path, more bodies filled it. There was laughter now around him, something hard caught him in the chin and his head snapped back, grey washing his vision for a few seconds.
Dean knew if he went down again, he wouldn’t be getting back up.
He turned, trying to orient himself, but with the crush around him and how often he’d gotten turned around, he couldn’t pin point the door or the way he’d come.
Too many… too many…
Dean knew his Father would have kicked his ass for just strolling right on in to a situation where the number of enemies was unknown. He’d thought they would have blended in, done a little recon and then gotten out to make a plan but he knew now that had been stupid. He and Sam had been pegged as soon as they’d stepped through the door.
There was another stinging scratch, just above his right eye and Dean blinked as blood blurred his vision. Dean kept swinging but his shoulders were burning, arms aching with the effort. Laughter still echoed, bodies pressing in on all sides.
“Sam,” Dean breathed as pain exploded in his left cheek and he lost his footing. He went hard onto his knees and there were kicks and punches raining down on him.
The hair on the back of Dean’s neck stood on end, just before he felt something brush over him. It was like a warm breeze that ruffled his hair and smelled of caramel and oranges, a weird blend that had always meant Sam to him.
Suddenly he felt cool air and looked up. He was kneeling outside the club and Sam was on his haunches in front of him, touching tentative fingers to Dean’s face.
“You okay?” Sam asked, canting his head.
“Yeah I… you?” Dean asked, noticing that Sam was covered in something dark from head to foot, his hair standing up in sticky spikes.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Sam smiled, the expression exhausted.
“What just-“
“We got separated. I… found you.”
Dean looked at Sam for a beat. Sam’s eyes were large, a silent plea in them.
Please don’t ask.
“Okay Sammy, okay,” Dean sighed, letting Sam help him to his feet.
He carefully didn’t look at the way the club’s back door was bent nearly off its hinges and how there was a pale hand just inside, trailing out into the dirt of the alley.
~4~
Dean waited for Gordon to leave and then pushed Sam into the middle of their hotel room.
“Shirt off, now,” he ordered and Sam raised an eyebrow at him.
“Dean, what-?”
“I’m not kidding. You were held in a vampire nest and you want me to take your word for it that you were completely untouched?”
Sam just blinked at him.
Dean rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. “Don’t make me wrestle you to the floor and strip you,” he sighed and he saw the moment Sam finally got it, that he wasn’t kidding.
“I told you-“
“Sam, now!” Dean barked again, taking a step towards him and Sam put up his hands.
“Okay, fine,” he growled and stripped off his t-shirt, holding his arms wide. “Satisfied?”
Dean didn’t speak, just advanced on Sam, running hands over his chest in short, efficient swipes and then grasped Sam’s head, tilting his head back and forward. Dean moved around to his back next, hands spanning Sam’s shoulder blades and then running the length of his back down to where the arch of his spine disappeared beneath his jeans.
“Pants,” Dean barked and when Sam sighed, cuffed him in the back of the head. Sam unbuckled his belt and tossed it across the room, then unzipped his jeans and let them fall off, stepping sideways and out of them.
“Did I say stop?” Dean asked, rounding to Sam’s front and crossing his arms. Sam looked down at his boxers and then back at Dean.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“A vampire can bite you in the ass as easily as in the neck,” Dean said, snapping his fingers impatiently.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Sam grumbled, shucking his underwear and then folding his arms to mirror Dean, glaring.
Dean made a quick but thorough inspection and then stepped back.
“Satisfied now?” Sam demanded.
“Not quite,” Dean said.
“What now-“ When Dean dropped his shoulder and grabbed Sam; it was so unexpected that Sam spent a few precious seconds being bewildered when he should’ve been fighting. Dean slung Sam over his shoulder, grunting with the weight and then barreled straight for the motel room door.
He tossed Sam outside and then ducked back, locking the motel door just as Sam hit it from the other side.
“You are dead!” Sam yelled.
Dean leaned against the door, breathing heavily. Okay, so it was hilarious, but he also needed a minute.
Vampires had waltzed in and taken his brother and he’d had no idea.
As the very naked Sam pounded on the door, Dean breathed.
~5~
“Don’t you let it kill me.”
Dean had never feared for his own safety. For some reason, he figured he’d been born without the facility for it. Some would call it false bravado, but Dean didn’t mourn its absence.
The only time he knew fear was when his family was threatened.
“Daddy, please.”
As he felt the wounds open up in his body, the black pain sliding through him, all he thought about was no, he couldn’t leave Sam alone with it.
He couldn’t leave Sam alone with the monster.
By:
kellifer_ficFandom: SPN
Rating: PG (language)
Category: Dean/Sam (gen)
Words: 1,593
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, no money!
Spoilers: Vague for 2.03
He’d promised.
He’d promised.
“Sam!” Dean called raggedly, his Father’s voice running through his head.
You stay in the car and watch out for Sammy, in case it circles back
Dean had gotten worried.
Dean had made Sam promise to stay in the car while he went across the field when their Father hadn’t returned for an hour.
He’d been gone all of five minutes and when he got back to the car, the door was sitting open and Sam was gone.
Gone.
“Sammy!” Dean tried again, panic now colouring his voice. His heart was beating rabbit-quick and he felt sweat spring up on his upper lip. Dean swiped at it with the back of his hand.
“What?” Sam emerged from a stand of trees a couple of feet away, doing up his belt.
“What? What? Where the fuck were you?” Dean demanded, only now relaxing his grip on the pistol in his left hand.
“I had to take a piss. Geez,” Sam grumbled, launching himself into the back seat and digging around until he came up with his book, head disappearing behind the cover.
Dean leaned into the car and wrenched the book out of Sam’s hands, tearing it into pieces with a frustrated yell. It was either that or drag Sam from the car and shake him until he rattled.
On the way home, Sam complained bitterly about the destroyed book, his Dad asked him why he had to always annoy his brother and Dean just let it all wash over him.
He paused in the doorway of the motel room while Sam slung their bags into the trunk. It looked like he was surveying the room, making sure they hadn’t forgotten anything, but really Dean was taking measured breaths.
”I moved it…”
With his mind.
Sam had moved something with his mind.
Missouri had given him a lot of crap, but as they were leaving her place back in Lawrence, she’d grabbed his hand and had waited for Sam to move out of earshot.
“You look out for him, you hear,” she’d said and Dean had furrowed his brow.
“I always-“
“No, you don’t understand. You look out for him.” There was something in her expression that had made an icy tendril of dread curl up Dean’s spine. “There may… there may come a time where he doesn’t… rightly know what he’s doing.”
Dean had laughed and shrugged her off but now…
You look out for him…
“Stupid son of a …” Dean was grumbling as he forced his way through the crowds.
They were at a club, a seedy back alley place that a couple of local teenagers had gone to and had never made it home and now Dean had lost sight of Sam in the press. Fingers caught on his shirt and jacket as he elbowed his way through the thronging mass and quickly the trailing touches were becoming rough grabs.
Dean, on instinct, started throwing elbows, ducking and weaving.
“Sam!” he called, his voice lost in the thumping music. Despite the crowd he should have been able to see Sam still, head and sometimes shoulders above the rest but there was no sign.
Something caught his ankle and Dean went down onto his hands and knees. He felt a boot press into his shoulder, trying to force him the rest of the way down and he rolled sideways instead, coming up in a crouch. A hand came out of nowhere and raked bloody furrows into his cheek and that was when Dean stopped playing nice and started throwing punches.
Something solid came out of the darkness and Dean arrested its arc, a hairs breadth away from his temple. He twisted up and sideways viciously, yanking the object out of the attacker’s grasp and found he had hold of a tire iron.
Still the music played on.
Still bodies writhed around him.
Dean started swinging. There were harsh cries and he felt blood spatter his face and arms, but whenever he cleared a path, more bodies filled it. There was laughter now around him, something hard caught him in the chin and his head snapped back, grey washing his vision for a few seconds.
Dean knew if he went down again, he wouldn’t be getting back up.
He turned, trying to orient himself, but with the crush around him and how often he’d gotten turned around, he couldn’t pin point the door or the way he’d come.
Too many… too many…
Dean knew his Father would have kicked his ass for just strolling right on in to a situation where the number of enemies was unknown. He’d thought they would have blended in, done a little recon and then gotten out to make a plan but he knew now that had been stupid. He and Sam had been pegged as soon as they’d stepped through the door.
There was another stinging scratch, just above his right eye and Dean blinked as blood blurred his vision. Dean kept swinging but his shoulders were burning, arms aching with the effort. Laughter still echoed, bodies pressing in on all sides.
“Sam,” Dean breathed as pain exploded in his left cheek and he lost his footing. He went hard onto his knees and there were kicks and punches raining down on him.
The hair on the back of Dean’s neck stood on end, just before he felt something brush over him. It was like a warm breeze that ruffled his hair and smelled of caramel and oranges, a weird blend that had always meant Sam to him.
Suddenly he felt cool air and looked up. He was kneeling outside the club and Sam was on his haunches in front of him, touching tentative fingers to Dean’s face.
“You okay?” Sam asked, canting his head.
“Yeah I… you?” Dean asked, noticing that Sam was covered in something dark from head to foot, his hair standing up in sticky spikes.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Sam smiled, the expression exhausted.
“What just-“
“We got separated. I… found you.”
Dean looked at Sam for a beat. Sam’s eyes were large, a silent plea in them.
Please don’t ask.
“Okay Sammy, okay,” Dean sighed, letting Sam help him to his feet.
He carefully didn’t look at the way the club’s back door was bent nearly off its hinges and how there was a pale hand just inside, trailing out into the dirt of the alley.
Dean waited for Gordon to leave and then pushed Sam into the middle of their hotel room.
“Shirt off, now,” he ordered and Sam raised an eyebrow at him.
“Dean, what-?”
“I’m not kidding. You were held in a vampire nest and you want me to take your word for it that you were completely untouched?”
Sam just blinked at him.
Dean rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. “Don’t make me wrestle you to the floor and strip you,” he sighed and he saw the moment Sam finally got it, that he wasn’t kidding.
“I told you-“
“Sam, now!” Dean barked again, taking a step towards him and Sam put up his hands.
“Okay, fine,” he growled and stripped off his t-shirt, holding his arms wide. “Satisfied?”
Dean didn’t speak, just advanced on Sam, running hands over his chest in short, efficient swipes and then grasped Sam’s head, tilting his head back and forward. Dean moved around to his back next, hands spanning Sam’s shoulder blades and then running the length of his back down to where the arch of his spine disappeared beneath his jeans.
“Pants,” Dean barked and when Sam sighed, cuffed him in the back of the head. Sam unbuckled his belt and tossed it across the room, then unzipped his jeans and let them fall off, stepping sideways and out of them.
“Did I say stop?” Dean asked, rounding to Sam’s front and crossing his arms. Sam looked down at his boxers and then back at Dean.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“A vampire can bite you in the ass as easily as in the neck,” Dean said, snapping his fingers impatiently.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Sam grumbled, shucking his underwear and then folding his arms to mirror Dean, glaring.
Dean made a quick but thorough inspection and then stepped back.
“Satisfied now?” Sam demanded.
“Not quite,” Dean said.
“What now-“ When Dean dropped his shoulder and grabbed Sam; it was so unexpected that Sam spent a few precious seconds being bewildered when he should’ve been fighting. Dean slung Sam over his shoulder, grunting with the weight and then barreled straight for the motel room door.
He tossed Sam outside and then ducked back, locking the motel door just as Sam hit it from the other side.
“You are dead!” Sam yelled.
Dean leaned against the door, breathing heavily. Okay, so it was hilarious, but he also needed a minute.
Vampires had waltzed in and taken his brother and he’d had no idea.
As the very naked Sam pounded on the door, Dean breathed.
“Don’t you let it kill me.”
Dean had never feared for his own safety. For some reason, he figured he’d been born without the facility for it. Some would call it false bravado, but Dean didn’t mourn its absence.
The only time he knew fear was when his family was threatened.
“Daddy, please.”
As he felt the wounds open up in his body, the black pain sliding through him, all he thought about was no, he couldn’t leave Sam alone with it.
He couldn’t leave Sam alone with the monster.