AU Missing Scene for ELAC
Sam watched for as long as he could stand it. Stood in the doorway and watched as Dean took a crowbar to the car he loved more than...well, probably more than almost anything in the world except Sam, now. Sam watched blow after blow, and at something like fifteen he lost track because he was out the door, running toward his brother. Sprinting toward Dean, who saw nothing except the battered metal in front of him and possibly not even that.
He couldn't tackle Dean, not right out of the hospital, days after almost dying, but he couldn't let this continue, either. It was like watching Dean slit his own wrists...he couldn't stand by and watch this. Coming at Dean from behind, Sam wondered if he was about to get a taste of the impala's treatment, but Dean was surprisingly pliant once Sam grappled with him. With no more than a second's worth of struggle, the crowbar dropped from Dean's hands, and Sam was able to pull the two of them back and down, against the shell of an old wreck, with a minimum of force.
He kept his grip tight, holding Dean's body fiercely against his, reaching down to grab hold of Dean's wrists to keep him immobilized. There was nothing he could possibly say, so he just muttered nonsense: shh, it's okay, take it down, man, gonna be okay. Dean's shuddering breaths shook them both, and Sam propped his chin on the top of Dean's head, still half-crooning low senseless comfort.
When Dean slumped still in his arms, Sam thought for a second that he'd fallen asleep. It was a curiously sweet thought: Sam could remember many nights falling asleep in Dean's arms, and it almost fixed something to think that he could give this back. Gently, he leaned forward to look at Dean's face, and then his grip tightened thoughtlessly.
"Dean! Hey, man, come on--" Dean's eyes were rolled up, his mouth open slightly, face slack, and for a terrifying second Sam interpreted the sudden silence the wrong way, remembering the fear of losing Dean and translating it to this moment, with Dean's heavy body unmoving in his arms. "Jesus, Dean!"
A second check revealed that Dean was breathing after all, and Sam felt like he could resume respiration himself. "Hey," he called again, bringing one hand up to tap lightly at Dean's cheek. Glancing over Dean's body, Sam couldn't see any tell-tale bloodstains...with luck Dean hadn't reopened any wounds. Things just got to be too much, maybe. Trust Dean to make it as tough as possible.
"Come on, man, wake up."
Lashes fluttered against the dark shadows under Dean's eyes. "Sa-y?"
The slurred question was enough to lift another suffocating layer of fear.
"Yeah, dude, it's me. Wake up."
"Sam," Dean muttered again, this time as if reassuring himself, and he sighed as he let his head fall back more heavily on Sam's arm.
"Oh no. Come on, Dean, I'm not carrying you back to the house."
But Dean was out for the count, and Sam wondered if he could even manage to lift him...it wasn't so long since Sam had been in a hospital bed himself.
Settling back into the shadows, he pulled Dean more securely into his lap and looked over at the battered trunk of the impala. "He's gonna hate himself for that," Sam said, half to himself and half, no matter how little he cared to admit it, to the car.
He chuckled, not surprised to find that his throat was thick with tears. "Well, his first punishment can be finding out that he fell asleep in my lap, huh?" Lowering his head, he rested his temple against Dean's forehead and sighed. Dean was breathing slow and even, his ribs rising and falling against Sam's chest. His body was warm, no signs of shock, and for a second Sam could even pretend that things were alright...if he kind of squinted and tilted his head.
He should stay on guard, watch over Dean in this uncharacteristic moment of weakness. But the world had shattered, and the only thing Sam had to cling to was in his arms. Of couse, it probably wasn't the way any expert would suggest they achieve 'closure'...trust Dean to get in touch with his feelings with a crowbar.
Dean sighed in his sleep, something sibilant and soft, and Sam knew he was being called on: follower and talisman and brother, all at once. "I'm here, Dean," he answered, as he always should have. What was left of his world was safe in his arms, at least for now, and the rest slipped away as he inevitably followed Dean into sleep.
As awful as everything had become, some things didn't change.
He couldn't tackle Dean, not right out of the hospital, days after almost dying, but he couldn't let this continue, either. It was like watching Dean slit his own wrists...he couldn't stand by and watch this. Coming at Dean from behind, Sam wondered if he was about to get a taste of the impala's treatment, but Dean was surprisingly pliant once Sam grappled with him. With no more than a second's worth of struggle, the crowbar dropped from Dean's hands, and Sam was able to pull the two of them back and down, against the shell of an old wreck, with a minimum of force.
He kept his grip tight, holding Dean's body fiercely against his, reaching down to grab hold of Dean's wrists to keep him immobilized. There was nothing he could possibly say, so he just muttered nonsense: shh, it's okay, take it down, man, gonna be okay. Dean's shuddering breaths shook them both, and Sam propped his chin on the top of Dean's head, still half-crooning low senseless comfort.
When Dean slumped still in his arms, Sam thought for a second that he'd fallen asleep. It was a curiously sweet thought: Sam could remember many nights falling asleep in Dean's arms, and it almost fixed something to think that he could give this back. Gently, he leaned forward to look at Dean's face, and then his grip tightened thoughtlessly.
"Dean! Hey, man, come on--" Dean's eyes were rolled up, his mouth open slightly, face slack, and for a terrifying second Sam interpreted the sudden silence the wrong way, remembering the fear of losing Dean and translating it to this moment, with Dean's heavy body unmoving in his arms. "Jesus, Dean!"
A second check revealed that Dean was breathing after all, and Sam felt like he could resume respiration himself. "Hey," he called again, bringing one hand up to tap lightly at Dean's cheek. Glancing over Dean's body, Sam couldn't see any tell-tale bloodstains...with luck Dean hadn't reopened any wounds. Things just got to be too much, maybe. Trust Dean to make it as tough as possible.
"Come on, man, wake up."
Lashes fluttered against the dark shadows under Dean's eyes. "Sa-y?"
The slurred question was enough to lift another suffocating layer of fear.
"Yeah, dude, it's me. Wake up."
"Sam," Dean muttered again, this time as if reassuring himself, and he sighed as he let his head fall back more heavily on Sam's arm.
"Oh no. Come on, Dean, I'm not carrying you back to the house."
But Dean was out for the count, and Sam wondered if he could even manage to lift him...it wasn't so long since Sam had been in a hospital bed himself.
Settling back into the shadows, he pulled Dean more securely into his lap and looked over at the battered trunk of the impala. "He's gonna hate himself for that," Sam said, half to himself and half, no matter how little he cared to admit it, to the car.
He chuckled, not surprised to find that his throat was thick with tears. "Well, his first punishment can be finding out that he fell asleep in my lap, huh?" Lowering his head, he rested his temple against Dean's forehead and sighed. Dean was breathing slow and even, his ribs rising and falling against Sam's chest. His body was warm, no signs of shock, and for a second Sam could even pretend that things were alright...if he kind of squinted and tilted his head.
He should stay on guard, watch over Dean in this uncharacteristic moment of weakness. But the world had shattered, and the only thing Sam had to cling to was in his arms. Of couse, it probably wasn't the way any expert would suggest they achieve 'closure'...trust Dean to get in touch with his feelings with a crowbar.
Dean sighed in his sleep, something sibilant and soft, and Sam knew he was being called on: follower and talisman and brother, all at once. "I'm here, Dean," he answered, as he always should have. What was left of his world was safe in his arms, at least for now, and the rest slipped away as he inevitably followed Dean into sleep.
As awful as everything had become, some things didn't change.