Girl!Sam update - ficlet
Title: The Nightmare (why yes, I suck at titles ;)
Author: Jen
Rating: PG
Characters: Dean, Sam
Spoilers: Season 1 thru The Benders
Summary: Basically, this takes place right after the episode The Benders. It's pretty much brother/sister interaction.
A/N: Watching the previews of this weeks episode reminded me of this little ficlet I wrote at the end of season 1 when I had just started writing this series. Hope y'all enjoy :D
Dean came out of the motel bathroom and was surprised to find Sam already in bed. He was surprised because if it wasn’t for the occasional nap in the car, he wouldn’t know if Sam actually slept. The nightmares were bad enough, but since the visions had started, things had gotten even worse. He usually fell asleep to the sound of Sam typing on the laptop or some has-been celebrity hocking kitchen appliances or exercise equipment or whatever. The latter had brought on a disturbing dream that involved George Foreman, Chuck Norris, and Leeza Gibbons. He’d love to burn that image out of his memory.
He couldn’t really tell for certain if she was already asleep, but he wasn’t about to ask her. If she was sleeping, he wasn’t going to risk waking her up. He figured her body must have finally decided it had had enough and overruled that damned stubborn streak of hers.
He’d planned on sharpening his knives before turning in, but decided against it. Sam was generally a light sleeper and even the soft rhythmic sound of blade against stone had the potential of rousing her. No, the knives could wait till morning. He pulled back the covers of his own bed and slipped between the cool sheets as he switched off the bedside lamp. The slow cadence of his sister’s breathing quickly lulled Dean into a peaceful sleep of his own.
**************************
“No.” The murmur was soft and breathy, barely audible in the stale air of the motel room.
“No.” This time it was more urgent, more forceful, but it had yet to rouse the room’s other occupant.
“No!” The voice was now firm and commanding, but with a slight edge of desperation.
“Dean!”
The panic-filled scream had him bolting from his bed and next to Sam in an instant. Her eyes were still closed, but tears were escaping and trailing down the sides of her face. He gently shook her and tried to speak in a soothing tone. “Sam, wake up. Sammi.”
“Dean!” Sam’s eyes shot open, and she launched herself at her brother, the shock and ferocity of the embrace nearly knocking him backwards.
Sam was shaking with the force of her sobs and the arms around his neck were clinging so tightly he couldn’t pull her back to see her face. He rubbed her back and began whispering comforting words in the hopes that she’d calm down enough to talk. “Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you Sammi.” He shifted into a more comfortable position so that he was sitting on the bed. Sam didn’t loosen her grip and so he pulled her onto his lap.
The minutes ticked by and though the tears were beginning to subside, Sam’s hold on her brother didn’t loosen. Dean had taken to rocking and shushing her because words were failing him. Whatever she had dreamed about had terrified her, that much was obvious. He tried again to pull away so that he could see her face, and this time she let him. He kept one arm around her as he pushed damp hair from her cheek.
“Sammi, what is it? You can tell me. Was it a vision?” Sam didn’t answer. “Another nightmare about Jess? What?”
Sam’s voice sounded raw. “No. It…it wasn’t a vision. I can tell the difference now. It was a nightmare.” Tears began streaming down her face again, but this time they were silent tears.
Dean had figured it was a nightmare about Jesse. It had been awhile since the last one and he guessed she was probably due. He was a bit surprised by the intensity of her reaction though. The nightmares were always upsetting, but this was the worst one yet. She usually gathered herself pretty quickly, and she didn’t seek comfort from him. The way that she had clung to him was really worrying him.
Sam laid her cheek against his already damp shoulder and for a moment, Dean was reminded of a six-year-old Sammi, a Sammi who sought her big brother out in the middle of the night when she had a nightmare. Dean had sometimes wondered why she had come to him rather than Dad, even when Dad was home. But it was probably because he was always there. Dad was sometimes gone for days at a time, and Dean was always there.
Dean searched for the right words. He wasn’t very good at it, but he was going to try. “I know how much you miss Jesse. And I know part of you blames yourself for his death. But it’ll get better, I promise. They aren’t coming as often now, right?”
“It wasn’t Jess.” Sam whispered.
Her voice was too low and Dean missed what she’d said. “What?”
Sam took a deep breath and tried again. She lifted her head to look her brother in the eye. “I said the nightmare wasn’t about Jess.”
Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion. He had assumed it was about Jesse because of Sam’s hysteria. She had watched the man she was supposed to marry burst into flames above their bed. That was enough to give anyone nightmares for the rest of her life. If it wasn’t about Jesse, Dean realized it must be about their father. They had been searching for months now and still had no idea where he was or even if he was trapped somewhere, dying. “Dad.” It was a statement, not a question.
Sam just shook her head, and he waited for her to find her voice again. After a moment, she looked up and said the last thing he was expecting. “It was about you, Dean.”
Sam took advantage of her brother’s shocked silence to continue. “Do you realize how many times you could have died, and almost did, this past year?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “There was the wendigo, a pagan god, and crazy hill people…. You were electrocuted, and then I saw Max kill you. Not to mention what I did in the asylum.”
Dean started to protest the last one, but Sam pressed on. “In my dream…Dean, in my dream, every single time…” her voice trailed off into a whisper “you died.”
Dean shook his head. “But I’m not dead Sam. I’m fine.” He smirked. “And if you won’t take my word on it, just ask our waitress at that diner across the street.” Dean’s attempt at levity fell flat.
“I spent four years alienating you and Dad because of a stupid misunderstanding. I keep thinking about all the time I wasted being hurt and angry. What we do is dangerous. If I lose you-“
“Not gonna happen, so don’t even think about it. We’re a good team, remember.”
“Yeah.” At that moment Sam realized she was sitting in Dean’s lap. She stood up quickly. “I think I’d better go wash my face.” She noticed the large wet spot on Dean’s left shoulder. “Sorry about your shirt.” she said awkwardly.
“Yeah, well, it’s your turn to do laundry anyway.” Dean grinned, effectively easing the tension in the room.
************************
Dean changed into a new t-shirt while Sam was in the bathroom. He was already back in his bed with his eyes closed when she came out. She walked around and sat down on the edge her bed facing Dean’s. She seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth.
Dean didn’t even open his eyes as he lifted the blanket in invitation, and Sam didn’t hesitate as she slipped beneath it. She turned her back to his chest and he let his right arm drape around her.
Sam couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so safe.
“G’night Dean.”
Dean couldn’t remember the last time…
“’Night Sammi.”
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Author: Jen
Rating: PG
Characters: Dean, Sam
Spoilers: Season 1 thru The Benders
Summary: Basically, this takes place right after the episode The Benders. It's pretty much brother/sister interaction.
A/N: Watching the previews of this weeks episode reminded me of this little ficlet I wrote at the end of season 1 when I had just started writing this series. Hope y'all enjoy :D
Dean came out of the motel bathroom and was surprised to find Sam already in bed. He was surprised because if it wasn’t for the occasional nap in the car, he wouldn’t know if Sam actually slept. The nightmares were bad enough, but since the visions had started, things had gotten even worse. He usually fell asleep to the sound of Sam typing on the laptop or some has-been celebrity hocking kitchen appliances or exercise equipment or whatever. The latter had brought on a disturbing dream that involved George Foreman, Chuck Norris, and Leeza Gibbons. He’d love to burn that image out of his memory.
He couldn’t really tell for certain if she was already asleep, but he wasn’t about to ask her. If she was sleeping, he wasn’t going to risk waking her up. He figured her body must have finally decided it had had enough and overruled that damned stubborn streak of hers.
He’d planned on sharpening his knives before turning in, but decided against it. Sam was generally a light sleeper and even the soft rhythmic sound of blade against stone had the potential of rousing her. No, the knives could wait till morning. He pulled back the covers of his own bed and slipped between the cool sheets as he switched off the bedside lamp. The slow cadence of his sister’s breathing quickly lulled Dean into a peaceful sleep of his own.
**************************
“No.” The murmur was soft and breathy, barely audible in the stale air of the motel room.
“No.” This time it was more urgent, more forceful, but it had yet to rouse the room’s other occupant.
“No!” The voice was now firm and commanding, but with a slight edge of desperation.
“Dean!”
The panic-filled scream had him bolting from his bed and next to Sam in an instant. Her eyes were still closed, but tears were escaping and trailing down the sides of her face. He gently shook her and tried to speak in a soothing tone. “Sam, wake up. Sammi.”
“Dean!” Sam’s eyes shot open, and she launched herself at her brother, the shock and ferocity of the embrace nearly knocking him backwards.
Sam was shaking with the force of her sobs and the arms around his neck were clinging so tightly he couldn’t pull her back to see her face. He rubbed her back and began whispering comforting words in the hopes that she’d calm down enough to talk. “Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you Sammi.” He shifted into a more comfortable position so that he was sitting on the bed. Sam didn’t loosen her grip and so he pulled her onto his lap.
The minutes ticked by and though the tears were beginning to subside, Sam’s hold on her brother didn’t loosen. Dean had taken to rocking and shushing her because words were failing him. Whatever she had dreamed about had terrified her, that much was obvious. He tried again to pull away so that he could see her face, and this time she let him. He kept one arm around her as he pushed damp hair from her cheek.
“Sammi, what is it? You can tell me. Was it a vision?” Sam didn’t answer. “Another nightmare about Jess? What?”
Sam’s voice sounded raw. “No. It…it wasn’t a vision. I can tell the difference now. It was a nightmare.” Tears began streaming down her face again, but this time they were silent tears.
Dean had figured it was a nightmare about Jesse. It had been awhile since the last one and he guessed she was probably due. He was a bit surprised by the intensity of her reaction though. The nightmares were always upsetting, but this was the worst one yet. She usually gathered herself pretty quickly, and she didn’t seek comfort from him. The way that she had clung to him was really worrying him.
Sam laid her cheek against his already damp shoulder and for a moment, Dean was reminded of a six-year-old Sammi, a Sammi who sought her big brother out in the middle of the night when she had a nightmare. Dean had sometimes wondered why she had come to him rather than Dad, even when Dad was home. But it was probably because he was always there. Dad was sometimes gone for days at a time, and Dean was always there.
Dean searched for the right words. He wasn’t very good at it, but he was going to try. “I know how much you miss Jesse. And I know part of you blames yourself for his death. But it’ll get better, I promise. They aren’t coming as often now, right?”
“It wasn’t Jess.” Sam whispered.
Her voice was too low and Dean missed what she’d said. “What?”
Sam took a deep breath and tried again. She lifted her head to look her brother in the eye. “I said the nightmare wasn’t about Jess.”
Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion. He had assumed it was about Jesse because of Sam’s hysteria. She had watched the man she was supposed to marry burst into flames above their bed. That was enough to give anyone nightmares for the rest of her life. If it wasn’t about Jesse, Dean realized it must be about their father. They had been searching for months now and still had no idea where he was or even if he was trapped somewhere, dying. “Dad.” It was a statement, not a question.
Sam just shook her head, and he waited for her to find her voice again. After a moment, she looked up and said the last thing he was expecting. “It was about you, Dean.”
Sam took advantage of her brother’s shocked silence to continue. “Do you realize how many times you could have died, and almost did, this past year?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “There was the wendigo, a pagan god, and crazy hill people…. You were electrocuted, and then I saw Max kill you. Not to mention what I did in the asylum.”
Dean started to protest the last one, but Sam pressed on. “In my dream…Dean, in my dream, every single time…” her voice trailed off into a whisper “you died.”
Dean shook his head. “But I’m not dead Sam. I’m fine.” He smirked. “And if you won’t take my word on it, just ask our waitress at that diner across the street.” Dean’s attempt at levity fell flat.
“I spent four years alienating you and Dad because of a stupid misunderstanding. I keep thinking about all the time I wasted being hurt and angry. What we do is dangerous. If I lose you-“
“Not gonna happen, so don’t even think about it. We’re a good team, remember.”
“Yeah.” At that moment Sam realized she was sitting in Dean’s lap. She stood up quickly. “I think I’d better go wash my face.” She noticed the large wet spot on Dean’s left shoulder. “Sorry about your shirt.” she said awkwardly.
“Yeah, well, it’s your turn to do laundry anyway.” Dean grinned, effectively easing the tension in the room.
************************
Dean changed into a new t-shirt while Sam was in the bathroom. He was already back in his bed with his eyes closed when she came out. She walked around and sat down on the edge her bed facing Dean’s. She seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth.
Dean didn’t even open his eyes as he lifted the blanket in invitation, and Sam didn’t hesitate as she slipped beneath it. She turned her back to his chest and he let his right arm drape around her.
Sam couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so safe.
“G’night Dean.”
Dean couldn’t remember the last time…
“’Night Sammi.”
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