Down in the Underground Chapter 9
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EPILOGUE
"I'm right here, Sammy." Dean felt tremors rocking his body. Sam grunted, moaned and his grip on Dean's arm became painful. Bobby reached over the end of the bed and took Sam's ankles, holding them firmly as he started to kick.
Sam had his eyes shut tight, panting short breaths against the agony crawling along his body. He could feel the flames on his arms, his legs, eating into his chest. He opened his eyes expecting to see the room on fire but there was nothing. He cried out and spasmed wildly. He heard Dean groan in pain, knew he had hurt him but couldn't stop his body reacting to the imaginary fires consuming him.
"Hold him down!" Bobby shouted. He didn't want the boy hurting himself.
Dean had to cuff Sam's wrists together when he started clawing at himself. "Sammy! Breathe through it. You can do this!" Sam screamed.
He knew he screamed. Sam heard his own voice fill the small room and he couldn't stop. He was burning alive. How much longer? He wanted to ask them but he couldn't form the words. He couldn't seem to get anything past the burning in his throat and chest except another scream. The pain consumed everything. There was nothing but the phantom flame charring every inch of him. He swore he could feel his skin blackening, curling and cracking; felt his bones become brittle and snap in the fires. He wondered if this was what Jess had felt; what his mother had felt.
His heart felt as though it were trying to beat its way out of his chest. The air began to seize in his lungs. Dimly he felt someone bang on his chest, felt someone tip his head back. Voices bellowed in his ears but he couldn't understand what they were saying. He couldn't remember who they were. There was nothing but the fire eating him alive. Then suddenly it was gone. The feeling of burning alive faded away and sound came back to him. He was panting for air, could feel hands resting on his legs and himself being lifted to rest against a chest; he recognized the smell of gun oil and leather as home.
"Dean." He whispered, his abused throat capable of nothing above the merest sound now.
"Sammy?" Dean leaned his head down, not sure he'd heard it. He figured he'd taken ten years off his life in the last ten minutes. "Bobby, that friend of yours and I gotta have a talk about his idea of not doin' any damage." He said angrily. Sam had stopped breathing. His heart had stopped beating. "Sam? You in there?" His brother's head nodded weakly against his chest and Dean let out the breath he had been holding. He dropped his head into Sam's hair and just sat for a moment.
Bobby patted Sam's legs and tugged the tangled blanket out from under them, settling it back on top of him with shaking hands. He understood Dean's anger, he felt it himself. Being forced to watch what Sam had just gone through…he wasn't sure he'd be sleeping for a while and wanted nothing more than the whiskey bottle waiting for him downstairs. He looked up and smiled slightly. Dean leaned against the headboard with one hand braced on his stomach and the other held across Sam's upper chest, holding him upright while his breathing slowed back to normal. Both boys had their eyes closed, relief evident on both their faces.
"How is he?" Bob stepped into the bedroom and smiled at the men on the bed. He rarely saw brothers with such a strong bond. It made him miss his own, long dead, with a bittersweet pang.
"You didn't mention just how bad it was gonna be." Bobby said accusingly.
Bob shrugged. "Knowing would have changed nothing and perhaps have made it even worse. I knew he would survive." He placed a fatherly hand on Bobby's shoulder. "You would not let it be any other way." He stepped to the side of the bed and took Sam's wrist in his hand, feeling the still fast pulse beneath his skin. "You're free of the spirit now, Sam." He saw hazel eyes through lids that slitted open before falling closed again. Bob looked at his older brother and sighed. "You are bleeding." Dean opened his eyes, raised his head and growled when the Shaman plucked his hand away from his stomach and raised his shirt. "What did this?"
"The Witch." Bobby told him and shook his head when he saw Bob was right. "I'll get the kit."
"Come, boy. This needs fixing." Bob took Sam's shoulders to move him away but Dean didn't relinquish his grip. "It's alright. He's well now. You can let him go." Bob soothed, realizing Dean was not entirely conscious.
"Not leavin' him." Dean mumbled. He felt as though he were floating, his only anchor the gnawing pain in his stomach and the feel of Sam's heart beneath his hand.
"Of course not. You do him no good if you bleed out." Bob pried the younger away from the older, settling him gently in the bed and then manhandled Dean up and over to the other bed. "Just lay down, boy. Let us fix this." He pulled Dean's shirt up and peeled the now bloody gauze away to reveal the five sutured wounds and a now purpling bruise appearing in the center.
"Is it bad?" Bobby returned and set the first aid kit beside his friend.
"No. Looks as though something hit him in the stomach, ruptured a few stitches." He gestured to where three of the wounds were now openly bleeding.
"Sam's elbow." Bobby nodded. "Caught him a good one while…"
"Yes. Unsurprising." Bob pulled the scissors out of the kit and set to removing the torn stitches gently and expertly. He quickly checked each of the punctures, noting how lucky the boy was they had not gone any deeper and pierced internal organs. Dean groaned, shifting slightly. "Hold him still please while I reclose these?" Bobby nodded and sat next to Dean's head, holding his shoulders down on the bed while the Shaman worked.
"Stay still, son." Bobby told him, reassured when Dean's movements stopped and held himself tensely beneath Bobby's hands. Looking between the two of them as his friend worked, Bobby again wondered if he could chain them down and keep them out of harms' way. He shook his head at himself with a snort of laughter. He'd be more likely to turn lead to gold.
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Five days later and Bobby was ready for his boys to get the hell out and go hunt something. Dean was chafing at being sedentary and healing while Sam paced around the house reading and staring out the windows, thinking deeply about something as usual.
"Dean." Sam wandered into the kitchen where Bobby sat with a cup of coffee and Dean stood at the sink. He turned to look at his little brother, one hand absently rubbing across his stomach.
"What, Sam?" Dean knew that look on his face. Sam wanted something he wasn't going to like.
"Dean…" Sam ducked his head, took a deep breath and looked back up. "Dean I want to visit Mom's grave."
"I'm just gonna go…fix something." Bobby said and got the hell out of dodge before Dean blew. He had a feeling the eldest Winchester wasn't going to react well. He ducked out the back door.
"What? Where the hell did that come from?" Dean stared surprised at him.
Sam sat on the edge of the kitchen table and shrugged. "Look, I just…I need to do this." He looked up at Dean. "So do you."
"No I don't." Dean shook his head firmly and turned away, grabbing a beer out of the fridge. Sometimes his little brother got the dumbest ideas stuck in his fool head.
Sam huffed an irritated breath, knowing when his brother wasn't going to be drawn into a discussion. "Fine but I do. Please, Dean." Sam stood and took the beer Dean handed him. "Just a visit. You can drop me off." He watched Dean's shoulders hunch. "Hey, I can borrow one of Bobby's cars. He's gotta have something around here running. Don't worry about it." Sam headed for the back door to go find him. "It'll only take me a day and I'll be back."
"Aw forget it, Sammy." Dean slammed the refrigerator door shut. He was unwilling to let Sam out of his sight yet, not after the events of last week. "I'll drive but I aint coming. You can go do your stupid closure thing or whatever this is. I'll stay in the car." He scowled and headed for the living room. "Such a freakin girl sometimes." He muttered under his breath as Sam smiled in relief behind him. "Go pack the car, Sasquatch."
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The end.
-Want to know what happens next? Go watch it. :D Season 2 Episode 4: "Children shouldn't play with dead things."