Fic: Five times... 3. December 2005 - He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Idiot Brother
Title: Five Times Dean Was Saved. And One Time He Wasn't. Part 3
Author: felisblanco
Fandom: SPN
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam
Word Count: 1846
3. December 2005 - He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Idiot Brother
It’s pain and it’s dark and it’s every nightmare he can think of crashing down on him the instant he wakes up. He tries to move and he can’t. He opens his mouth to yell out Sam’s name and there’s no sound. He can smell sulfur and dirt and taste blood in his mouth but that doesn’t tell him anything. It’s the way most days smell and taste anyway. He knows he still has his hearing because he can hear his own heart pounding in his chest and his ragged breathing getting quicker and shallower.
Sam! Where is Sam? Sammy!
Time passes. He knows it only by counting his heartbeats, trying to calm down his breathing. Trying to think. Where is he? What happened? Why the fuck can’t he fucking move!?! God, where is Sam? If something has happened to Sammy he’ll never forgive himself. He doesn’t know what brought this on but it doesn’t matter. It will be his fault. It’s always his fault.
Something warm and soft suddenly brushes against his arm and he’d yell if he could. Was that a rat? He hates rats. Please God, don’t let it be a rat. Where is Sam?
Where the fuck is Sam!?!
There’s a groan and then the brush changes into pressure as fingers tighten around his arm. “Dean?”
Oh thank God. He can’t answer but he feels tears running down his cheeks and he doesn’t care, doesn’t fucking care because Sam is here and he’s alive and the sound of his voice is the sweetest sound in the whole world.
“Fuck, I must have passed out. Dean, you awake? Dean?”
Yes. I’m awake, I’m here and something’s wrong. Something is seriously fucked up and I can’t do anything. We have to get out of here. You… You have to get out of here. Sam, please. Go. Leave.
The fingers move up his arm and across over his face, slipping on the tear tracks and hovering over his eyes. He fights the instinct to close them, blinking rapidly instead to let Sam know that he’s conscious. His breath hitches, sharp intakes of air that make him dizzy.
“Dean, hey. Hey! Calm down. Don’t try to move, ok? You’re hurt. You got some drugs in you and… It’s ok. Everything’s gonna be ok. We just need to find a way out of here.”
There’s a rustle and then the side of his body goes cold and he realizes that Sam must have been pressed up against him. He didn’t even feel it. What the hell is wrong with him? Drugs? What kind of drugs? Sam? Sam, talk to me!
“Ok, I think…” Sam’s voice comes from somewhere behind him. “Yes! Finally. It’s a door. I’m gonna try and get it open. Just stay with me, Dean. Don’t space out again. You scared the shit out of me.”
Space out? What does that mean, ‘space out’? He just woke up. Didn’t he?
There’s the sound of metal scratching against metal and he doesn’t need any light to know Sam’s hunched by the door, picking the lock with his master thief kit. Good, they really need to get out of here. He strains his ears, listening for any sounds that indicate they’re not alone. He’s trying to remember where they are, what the hell they were doing, but it’s all a big blank. His whole body aches, burning as if acid’s bubbling its way through his skin. One side of his head has a cold patch, pounding in rhythm with his heart. Experience tells him it’s a wound, bleeding sluggishly, the cold in this place, wherever they are, probably the only thing keeping it from gushing. Suddenly there’s a low click and a sliver of light crosses the darkness.
“Dammit! I got the lock open but there’s a chain. I need to break it open, Dean. Ok? It’s gonna be loud and if they’re out there they’re gonna hear it. So we need to be quick. You understand?”
Of course he fucking understands! He also understands that he’s fucking paralyzed and he can’t move his fucking pinky, let alone run out of here.
What’s the plan, wiz kid? How the hell are you planning on playing this?
“So I’m gonna break down the door and then I’ll carry you out of here. Ok?”
Carry me? What are you, the Hulk? I’m too heavy. You can’t… Just get out of here. Fucking save yourself. Remember when I said you were a selfish bastard? Yeah well, be that now. Shoo. Go. Get out of here.
“Stop bitching and just go with me here, ok? I know what you’re thinking, Dean, and it’s not gonna happen. I’m not leaving you here.” Sam snorts and the sound echoes in the silent room. “Beside if we get out of here you’ll owe me like forever. I can’t believe you got us into this shit, Dean.”
What shit? What did I do?
“OK, here we go.”
He hears Sam take a deep breath and then there’s a loud crash and suddenly the room is flooded with light so bright he slams his eyes shut. By the time he manages to open them again he’s already flung across Sam’s shoulder, head and limbs dangling awkwardly. He feels like a rag doll, if a rag doll was made up of nothing but pain and humiliation.
God. If they get out of here alive he’s never gonna hear the end of this. His eyes are slowly adjusting to the light and when the ride gets even bumpier he sees steps multiplying behind them as Sam runs up the stairs.
Wow. Ok, his brother is freakishly strong. And from this angle he’s got a really nice ass. Which is such a disturbing thought he’s very happy he has these drugs, whatever they are, to blame for it.
They must have been in a basement because suddenly they’re squeezing through a narrow doorframe, Dean’s head whipping to the side and slamming into the wood.
“Sorry! You alright?”
Just peachy, dude. Having the fucking time of my life.
This experience could only be more perfect if he was naked. He’s not, right? Right? Oh God, please don’t let him be naked! He tries to turn his head to see his arm but he’s still totally paralyzed and all he can see is his right hand and onwards up to his elbow. No sleeve. Nothing.
Ok, no need to panic. He’s probably only wearing a t-shirt, that’s why. Yeah. Because seriously, why would he be naked? In a basement. With his brother. Who is thankfully wearing clothes. What the fuck were they doing down there anyway?
“Shit! I think they’re coming. Where’s the car? Where did they put the fucking car?”
Hey, no cursing his girl! And what does Sam mean ‘Where did they put it?’ Sam let some strangers drive his car? They better not have put a scratch on his baby!
“Oh thank God.”
They’re running through some woods now, yellow and red leaves twirling in their path. Then Sam comes to a halt and Dean’s being swung down and around so fast his head is spinning. He blinks to find himself staring up at the roof of the Impala, the leather backseat comfortably familiar underneath him. Sam is slamming the door and fumbling with the keys, spitting out curses Dean would have sworn his little brother didn’t know. College, huh?
“Come on, come on. Yes!”
The car starts with a roar and Dean mentally pets her. He can hear voices yelling, closing in on them and he has a brief moment of panic, imagining them pulling up guns and shooting at them. If they put a single hole in her he’s gonna kill them! Ok, he’s probably gonna kill them anyway, whoever they are, for doing this to him, but if they damage his car… well, it won’t be pretty.
But they’re moving and there are no gunshots, just Sammy laughing with glee and Dean can see out of the corner of his eye that Sam’s waving his hand out the window, no doubt showing them the finger.
“You alright back there, man? I figure we’re about thirty minutes away from the motel. Need to patch up your head and then I think we better get the hell out of here.”
What? Is he kidding? Flee like dogs with their tails between their legs? No way! He just needs to get this damn poison out of his veins and then he’s ready to kick some serious demon ass. Or whatever they were. What the hell happened anyway?
“I swear, Dean, the next time a blonde bimbo promises you a threesome with her Swedish twin, don’t just follow her like a drooling dog in heat. Think. And check your glass for roofies. If I hadn’t followed you you’d be the star of some gory snuff movie right now.”
Huh?
“Yeah, ok, so I hadn’t counted on being caught but it was a bit hard to stay quiet when they were just about to shove a ten inch dildo up your ass.”
What!?!
“I’ll call the cops from the motel. Enough evidence there to put those sickos away for a long time. Oh and sorry about your clothes, man. You cold? I’ll get the blanket out of the trunk as soon as I’m sure they’re not following us.”
Oh God. He really is naked! And apparently he’d been kidnapped by some sex-crazed porno freaks! And they wanted to…
Ten fucking inches!?!
He tries desperately to turn his head, to catch Sam’s eyes in the mirror. No luck. What did they do to me? His breath quickens again, nausea traveling up his throat. An image of a row of gangbangers, lining up to rape him, flashes before his eyes and it seems so real that for a moment he’s sure he’s remembering. No. No way. Nonono…
“Hey, it’s okay. Relax. They didn’t do anything. Except pump you full of drugs. Some Viagra/roofie/whatever cocktail. Not sure what it is that’s keeping you schtum but I’d love to get my hands on that. You haven’t been this quiet since… forever. Blessed silence.”
Sam laughs but it’s shaky and Dean can hear the anger and relief in his voice.
“It should wear off soon enough and then you can thank me for saving your pretty ass, bro.”
Thank you for saving my pretty ass, bro. Thank you for being freakishly strong and carrying me out of there like a fricking girl. Thank you for never mentioning this again ever, ok? Do we have a deal? Sammy? Sam?
“By the way, I’m going to mock you forever for this, just so you know.”
Damn.
“Yeah.” Sam laughs again, a bit more lightly this time. “Gotta say though, Dean, you did make a pretty hot porn star. If ever we find ourselves short of money we know what to do.”
Haha. Funny. You just wait until…
Wait a minute. Did Sam just say…? Huh.
“Especially considering… you know. Seriously, man, that Viagra not wearing off yet? Because that looks positively painful.”
Oh God! Please kill me now.
Continued in May 2006 - Saved By a Yell
Author: felisblanco
Fandom: SPN
Characters/Pairing: Dean, Sam
Word Count: 1846
3. December 2005 - He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Idiot Brother
It’s pain and it’s dark and it’s every nightmare he can think of crashing down on him the instant he wakes up. He tries to move and he can’t. He opens his mouth to yell out Sam’s name and there’s no sound. He can smell sulfur and dirt and taste blood in his mouth but that doesn’t tell him anything. It’s the way most days smell and taste anyway. He knows he still has his hearing because he can hear his own heart pounding in his chest and his ragged breathing getting quicker and shallower.
Sam! Where is Sam? Sammy!
Time passes. He knows it only by counting his heartbeats, trying to calm down his breathing. Trying to think. Where is he? What happened? Why the fuck can’t he fucking move!?! God, where is Sam? If something has happened to Sammy he’ll never forgive himself. He doesn’t know what brought this on but it doesn’t matter. It will be his fault. It’s always his fault.
Something warm and soft suddenly brushes against his arm and he’d yell if he could. Was that a rat? He hates rats. Please God, don’t let it be a rat. Where is Sam?
Where the fuck is Sam!?!
There’s a groan and then the brush changes into pressure as fingers tighten around his arm. “Dean?”
Oh thank God. He can’t answer but he feels tears running down his cheeks and he doesn’t care, doesn’t fucking care because Sam is here and he’s alive and the sound of his voice is the sweetest sound in the whole world.
“Fuck, I must have passed out. Dean, you awake? Dean?”
Yes. I’m awake, I’m here and something’s wrong. Something is seriously fucked up and I can’t do anything. We have to get out of here. You… You have to get out of here. Sam, please. Go. Leave.
The fingers move up his arm and across over his face, slipping on the tear tracks and hovering over his eyes. He fights the instinct to close them, blinking rapidly instead to let Sam know that he’s conscious. His breath hitches, sharp intakes of air that make him dizzy.
“Dean, hey. Hey! Calm down. Don’t try to move, ok? You’re hurt. You got some drugs in you and… It’s ok. Everything’s gonna be ok. We just need to find a way out of here.”
There’s a rustle and then the side of his body goes cold and he realizes that Sam must have been pressed up against him. He didn’t even feel it. What the hell is wrong with him? Drugs? What kind of drugs? Sam? Sam, talk to me!
“Ok, I think…” Sam’s voice comes from somewhere behind him. “Yes! Finally. It’s a door. I’m gonna try and get it open. Just stay with me, Dean. Don’t space out again. You scared the shit out of me.”
Space out? What does that mean, ‘space out’? He just woke up. Didn’t he?
There’s the sound of metal scratching against metal and he doesn’t need any light to know Sam’s hunched by the door, picking the lock with his master thief kit. Good, they really need to get out of here. He strains his ears, listening for any sounds that indicate they’re not alone. He’s trying to remember where they are, what the hell they were doing, but it’s all a big blank. His whole body aches, burning as if acid’s bubbling its way through his skin. One side of his head has a cold patch, pounding in rhythm with his heart. Experience tells him it’s a wound, bleeding sluggishly, the cold in this place, wherever they are, probably the only thing keeping it from gushing. Suddenly there’s a low click and a sliver of light crosses the darkness.
“Dammit! I got the lock open but there’s a chain. I need to break it open, Dean. Ok? It’s gonna be loud and if they’re out there they’re gonna hear it. So we need to be quick. You understand?”
Of course he fucking understands! He also understands that he’s fucking paralyzed and he can’t move his fucking pinky, let alone run out of here.
What’s the plan, wiz kid? How the hell are you planning on playing this?
“So I’m gonna break down the door and then I’ll carry you out of here. Ok?”
Carry me? What are you, the Hulk? I’m too heavy. You can’t… Just get out of here. Fucking save yourself. Remember when I said you were a selfish bastard? Yeah well, be that now. Shoo. Go. Get out of here.
“Stop bitching and just go with me here, ok? I know what you’re thinking, Dean, and it’s not gonna happen. I’m not leaving you here.” Sam snorts and the sound echoes in the silent room. “Beside if we get out of here you’ll owe me like forever. I can’t believe you got us into this shit, Dean.”
What shit? What did I do?
“OK, here we go.”
He hears Sam take a deep breath and then there’s a loud crash and suddenly the room is flooded with light so bright he slams his eyes shut. By the time he manages to open them again he’s already flung across Sam’s shoulder, head and limbs dangling awkwardly. He feels like a rag doll, if a rag doll was made up of nothing but pain and humiliation.
God. If they get out of here alive he’s never gonna hear the end of this. His eyes are slowly adjusting to the light and when the ride gets even bumpier he sees steps multiplying behind them as Sam runs up the stairs.
Wow. Ok, his brother is freakishly strong. And from this angle he’s got a really nice ass. Which is such a disturbing thought he’s very happy he has these drugs, whatever they are, to blame for it.
They must have been in a basement because suddenly they’re squeezing through a narrow doorframe, Dean’s head whipping to the side and slamming into the wood.
“Sorry! You alright?”
Just peachy, dude. Having the fucking time of my life.
This experience could only be more perfect if he was naked. He’s not, right? Right? Oh God, please don’t let him be naked! He tries to turn his head to see his arm but he’s still totally paralyzed and all he can see is his right hand and onwards up to his elbow. No sleeve. Nothing.
Ok, no need to panic. He’s probably only wearing a t-shirt, that’s why. Yeah. Because seriously, why would he be naked? In a basement. With his brother. Who is thankfully wearing clothes. What the fuck were they doing down there anyway?
“Shit! I think they’re coming. Where’s the car? Where did they put the fucking car?”
Hey, no cursing his girl! And what does Sam mean ‘Where did they put it?’ Sam let some strangers drive his car? They better not have put a scratch on his baby!
“Oh thank God.”
They’re running through some woods now, yellow and red leaves twirling in their path. Then Sam comes to a halt and Dean’s being swung down and around so fast his head is spinning. He blinks to find himself staring up at the roof of the Impala, the leather backseat comfortably familiar underneath him. Sam is slamming the door and fumbling with the keys, spitting out curses Dean would have sworn his little brother didn’t know. College, huh?
“Come on, come on. Yes!”
The car starts with a roar and Dean mentally pets her. He can hear voices yelling, closing in on them and he has a brief moment of panic, imagining them pulling up guns and shooting at them. If they put a single hole in her he’s gonna kill them! Ok, he’s probably gonna kill them anyway, whoever they are, for doing this to him, but if they damage his car… well, it won’t be pretty.
But they’re moving and there are no gunshots, just Sammy laughing with glee and Dean can see out of the corner of his eye that Sam’s waving his hand out the window, no doubt showing them the finger.
“You alright back there, man? I figure we’re about thirty minutes away from the motel. Need to patch up your head and then I think we better get the hell out of here.”
What? Is he kidding? Flee like dogs with their tails between their legs? No way! He just needs to get this damn poison out of his veins and then he’s ready to kick some serious demon ass. Or whatever they were. What the hell happened anyway?
“I swear, Dean, the next time a blonde bimbo promises you a threesome with her Swedish twin, don’t just follow her like a drooling dog in heat. Think. And check your glass for roofies. If I hadn’t followed you you’d be the star of some gory snuff movie right now.”
Huh?
“Yeah, ok, so I hadn’t counted on being caught but it was a bit hard to stay quiet when they were just about to shove a ten inch dildo up your ass.”
What!?!
“I’ll call the cops from the motel. Enough evidence there to put those sickos away for a long time. Oh and sorry about your clothes, man. You cold? I’ll get the blanket out of the trunk as soon as I’m sure they’re not following us.”
Oh God. He really is naked! And apparently he’d been kidnapped by some sex-crazed porno freaks! And they wanted to…
Ten fucking inches!?!
He tries desperately to turn his head, to catch Sam’s eyes in the mirror. No luck. What did they do to me? His breath quickens again, nausea traveling up his throat. An image of a row of gangbangers, lining up to rape him, flashes before his eyes and it seems so real that for a moment he’s sure he’s remembering. No. No way. Nonono…
“Hey, it’s okay. Relax. They didn’t do anything. Except pump you full of drugs. Some Viagra/roofie/whatever cocktail. Not sure what it is that’s keeping you schtum but I’d love to get my hands on that. You haven’t been this quiet since… forever. Blessed silence.”
Sam laughs but it’s shaky and Dean can hear the anger and relief in his voice.
“It should wear off soon enough and then you can thank me for saving your pretty ass, bro.”
Thank you for saving my pretty ass, bro. Thank you for being freakishly strong and carrying me out of there like a fricking girl. Thank you for never mentioning this again ever, ok? Do we have a deal? Sammy? Sam?
“By the way, I’m going to mock you forever for this, just so you know.”
Damn.
“Yeah.” Sam laughs again, a bit more lightly this time. “Gotta say though, Dean, you did make a pretty hot porn star. If ever we find ourselves short of money we know what to do.”
Haha. Funny. You just wait until…
Wait a minute. Did Sam just say…? Huh.
“Especially considering… you know. Seriously, man, that Viagra not wearing off yet? Because that looks positively painful.”
Oh God! Please kill me now.
Continued in May 2006 - Saved By a Yell