A Moment After Hell
Title: A Moment After Hell
Author: celebelei
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Summary: In the episode Wishful Thinking, Dean has a nightmare and Sam asks him about it. This is my version of that scene.
Screams. Red, blinding pain burning him. Metal hooks tearing through his skin, blood flowing and flowing until he thought he was going to bleed out and then still more blood.
No escape.
Other disfigured shapes around him, begging for mercy or help or anything to stop the agony. He cried out for Sammy. His voice was scratched and broken, the very effort of making that pathetic sound overwhelming. Another hook slammed out of nowhere, ripping its way through skin and muscle with a sickening squelch and making him scream.
Sam, he thought in his mind. Please help me, I can’t take it anymore, it’s too much. I can’t…
Dean’s eyes snapped open. His heart was trying to beat its way out of his ribcage and his breathing was shallow. Sam watched him silently when he sat up and rubbed his face with his hands and wiping away the cold sweat on his brow.
“It was only a dream, Sam,” Dean sighed when he could still feel Sam’s eyes boring into the back of his head, like he was trying to read his thoughts.
“It’s always ‘just a dream’, Dean,” Sam sounded pissed off.
Dean turned to look at Sam who had the famous ‘hurt puppy’ -look going on. Sam had pestered him about his dreams a million times before, but had never gotten anything out of him. Dean just didn’t want to talk about it. Talking wasn’t going to change anything.
“Well, it was a dream. A friggin’ weird one, is all.” Dean more or less snapped. He was getting seriously annoyed. Sam slumped his shoulders in defeat and didn’t say anything. Then he got this odd little smile on his face, but before Dean could wonder the reason, it fell from Sam’s lips.
“Yeah? Clowns or midgets?”
The laugh escaped from Dean’s throat before he even realized it. It just burst out and echoed around in the small motel room they we’re staying in. It was the first time, Dean realized, since he returned from Hell that he was actually laughing, for real.
Sam was watching him with a soft smile, obviously pleased with himself for making Dean laugh like that.
Still chuckling, Dean got up from their bed and walked up to Sam who was sitting by the small coffee table across the room. Dean ruffled Sam’s hair and scratched behind his ear while Sam hummed in satisfaction and sneaked his arms around Dean’s waist.
“You’re the one who’s afraid of clowns, Sammy,” Dean said smiling when Sam rubbed his nose against the faded tee covering Dean’s chest.
“So it was midgets?” Sam’s voice was muffled against him.
“Leprechauns. Freaky little dudes, I’m telling you.”
Sam’s giggle tickled his stomach while Sam’s long fingers slipped under his shirt, gliding along his lower back, causing him to shiver.
“So you’re okay?” Sam lifted his head to meet his gaze, his eyes darkening a little bit when one of his fingers dipped inside the waistband of Dean’s jeans. Want stirred inside Dean, making his eyes match the shade in Sam’s.
“Yeah, Sammy. I’m okay.”
And this time, he actually meant it.
*
Commets are loved. :)
Author: celebelei
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Summary: In the episode Wishful Thinking, Dean has a nightmare and Sam asks him about it. This is my version of that scene.
Screams. Red, blinding pain burning him. Metal hooks tearing through his skin, blood flowing and flowing until he thought he was going to bleed out and then still more blood.
No escape.
Other disfigured shapes around him, begging for mercy or help or anything to stop the agony. He cried out for Sammy. His voice was scratched and broken, the very effort of making that pathetic sound overwhelming. Another hook slammed out of nowhere, ripping its way through skin and muscle with a sickening squelch and making him scream.
Sam, he thought in his mind. Please help me, I can’t take it anymore, it’s too much. I can’t…
Dean’s eyes snapped open. His heart was trying to beat its way out of his ribcage and his breathing was shallow. Sam watched him silently when he sat up and rubbed his face with his hands and wiping away the cold sweat on his brow.
“It was only a dream, Sam,” Dean sighed when he could still feel Sam’s eyes boring into the back of his head, like he was trying to read his thoughts.
“It’s always ‘just a dream’, Dean,” Sam sounded pissed off.
Dean turned to look at Sam who had the famous ‘hurt puppy’ -look going on. Sam had pestered him about his dreams a million times before, but had never gotten anything out of him. Dean just didn’t want to talk about it. Talking wasn’t going to change anything.
“Well, it was a dream. A friggin’ weird one, is all.” Dean more or less snapped. He was getting seriously annoyed. Sam slumped his shoulders in defeat and didn’t say anything. Then he got this odd little smile on his face, but before Dean could wonder the reason, it fell from Sam’s lips.
“Yeah? Clowns or midgets?”
The laugh escaped from Dean’s throat before he even realized it. It just burst out and echoed around in the small motel room they we’re staying in. It was the first time, Dean realized, since he returned from Hell that he was actually laughing, for real.
Sam was watching him with a soft smile, obviously pleased with himself for making Dean laugh like that.
Still chuckling, Dean got up from their bed and walked up to Sam who was sitting by the small coffee table across the room. Dean ruffled Sam’s hair and scratched behind his ear while Sam hummed in satisfaction and sneaked his arms around Dean’s waist.
“You’re the one who’s afraid of clowns, Sammy,” Dean said smiling when Sam rubbed his nose against the faded tee covering Dean’s chest.
“So it was midgets?” Sam’s voice was muffled against him.
“Leprechauns. Freaky little dudes, I’m telling you.”
Sam’s giggle tickled his stomach while Sam’s long fingers slipped under his shirt, gliding along his lower back, causing him to shiver.
“So you’re okay?” Sam lifted his head to meet his gaze, his eyes darkening a little bit when one of his fingers dipped inside the waistband of Dean’s jeans. Want stirred inside Dean, making his eyes match the shade in Sam’s.
“Yeah, Sammy. I’m okay.”
And this time, he actually meant it.
*
Commets are loved. :)