[fic] supernatural: deep in my senses i know
Title: Deep in my senses I know
Summary: The day he got desperate and saw Alien Raiders was the same day he got in the car that morning and couldn't find Dean.
Dean: We still got to see the new "Raiders" movie.
Sam: Saw it.
Dean: Without me?
Sam: You were in hell, Dean.
-- Monster Movies
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There was an aquarium next to the line he was in at the Best Buy, holding an iDock and a credit card for Ben Scully.
Sam was in line because he had to be, because if he shattered another cassette tape in a fit of denial and loathing he'd drive off the next cliff. He felt the sound go out as he looked at the tank expecting Dean to be on the other side, lips smashed against the glass making faces (come on hurry up I'm bored Sammy), scaring the luminous fish and maybe some of the customers but it was Dean. Sam remembered Dean never caring what other people were thinking. He remembered that perfectly.
But the day (five days later) he got desperate and saw Alien Raiders was the same day he got in the Impala that morning and couldn't find his brother. For five minutes Sam couldn't breathe. And then he was frantic, looking everywhere for him. Dean wasn't in the diary of receipts or the peanut M&M shells caught between the seat and arm rest. He wasn't in the imprints on the worn steering wheel. Sam sat back in the seat and strained for that familiar scent (safety, family), for a sign Dean hadn't faded away at some point, gone like a ghost after burned bones (could see the push of Dean's lower lip in a lighter's glow but not how he dropped the lit match -- if he flicked it, threw it or let it drop). But despite keeping the windows up and never using the air conditioning, in only three months Sam lost him (did nothing, let him be torn away and ripped apart) all over again. And even when he turned off his phone to block out Ruby when he sat in the dark theater, heard the audience laugh at a preview about an old man trying to fulfill his late wife's dream in their flying house, he couldn't remember exactly how Dean's laugh was different from theirs, specifically how it sounded when his brother's mouth was stuffed full of popcorn beyond reasonable consumption as his teeth ground and his cheeks smacked to drive Sam nuts. How Dean poked him in a certain away with a greasy, buttery finger he knew Sam couldn't ignore (if you poke me with that thing one more time I'm gonna break it in half / yeah okay Sammy you try that hey you want some?) and that was it.
He barely made it past the security cop killing Spooky the smart ass before he couldn't stand it anymore, clumsily shoved his way out past knees belonging to couples and groups and friends and maybe even siblings (fuck why did he have to be so large and tired and awkward and who he was) until he shoved out the doors under the hell's red EXIT. He braced himself on his knees outside the building, struggling to breathe in the humid night air. It was thick, it stuck in his throat and filled his lungs. He thought he was going to throw up. Some woman stopped and touched his shoulder asking him are you all right, are you having a panic attack?, and he just looked at her veiny hand before making his way to her eyes bookended by crows feet, clinging to her pupils as if she could make his dreams come true. He thought how she was human, been so long, Ruby's hands were hard like smooth marble, couldn't remember the scrapes, scars and imperfections of Dean's hand (had he been getting crow's feet at his eyes?) and then Sam was backing up. His mouth gaped like the fish in the aquarium (hey Sammy look I'm Nemo, no wait -- Mine? Miiine mine mine! Dude those things were the best part of the whole damn movie). He was unable to speak, unable to breathe, finally gave up leaving the old couple behind him saying I think he's sick, dear, that kind of sick. He made it to the Impala and unlocked the door with shaking, desperate fingers, and shame pouring down out his eyes.
He collapsed in the seat with five month old receipts and melting peanut M&Ms tight in his fists, squeezing for any drop of Dean to come back. His knuckles turned white, but for all his efforts he got nothing. The well was dry. He didn't know his heart would still have pieces left to break, but then, Sam was incredibly shitty psychic.
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Summary: The day he got desperate and saw Alien Raiders was the same day he got in the car that morning and couldn't find Dean.
Dean: We still got to see the new "Raiders" movie.
Sam: Saw it.
Dean: Without me?
Sam: You were in hell, Dean.
-- Monster Movies
--------------------------------------------
There was an aquarium next to the line he was in at the Best Buy, holding an iDock and a credit card for Ben Scully.
Sam was in line because he had to be, because if he shattered another cassette tape in a fit of denial and loathing he'd drive off the next cliff. He felt the sound go out as he looked at the tank expecting Dean to be on the other side, lips smashed against the glass making faces (come on hurry up I'm bored Sammy), scaring the luminous fish and maybe some of the customers but it was Dean. Sam remembered Dean never caring what other people were thinking. He remembered that perfectly.
But the day (five days later) he got desperate and saw Alien Raiders was the same day he got in the Impala that morning and couldn't find his brother. For five minutes Sam couldn't breathe. And then he was frantic, looking everywhere for him. Dean wasn't in the diary of receipts or the peanut M&M shells caught between the seat and arm rest. He wasn't in the imprints on the worn steering wheel. Sam sat back in the seat and strained for that familiar scent (safety, family), for a sign Dean hadn't faded away at some point, gone like a ghost after burned bones (could see the push of Dean's lower lip in a lighter's glow but not how he dropped the lit match -- if he flicked it, threw it or let it drop). But despite keeping the windows up and never using the air conditioning, in only three months Sam lost him (did nothing, let him be torn away and ripped apart) all over again. And even when he turned off his phone to block out Ruby when he sat in the dark theater, heard the audience laugh at a preview about an old man trying to fulfill his late wife's dream in their flying house, he couldn't remember exactly how Dean's laugh was different from theirs, specifically how it sounded when his brother's mouth was stuffed full of popcorn beyond reasonable consumption as his teeth ground and his cheeks smacked to drive Sam nuts. How Dean poked him in a certain away with a greasy, buttery finger he knew Sam couldn't ignore (if you poke me with that thing one more time I'm gonna break it in half / yeah okay Sammy you try that hey you want some?) and that was it.
He barely made it past the security cop killing Spooky the smart ass before he couldn't stand it anymore, clumsily shoved his way out past knees belonging to couples and groups and friends and maybe even siblings (fuck why did he have to be so large and tired and awkward and who he was) until he shoved out the doors under the hell's red EXIT. He braced himself on his knees outside the building, struggling to breathe in the humid night air. It was thick, it stuck in his throat and filled his lungs. He thought he was going to throw up. Some woman stopped and touched his shoulder asking him are you all right, are you having a panic attack?, and he just looked at her veiny hand before making his way to her eyes bookended by crows feet, clinging to her pupils as if she could make his dreams come true. He thought how she was human, been so long, Ruby's hands were hard like smooth marble, couldn't remember the scrapes, scars and imperfections of Dean's hand (had he been getting crow's feet at his eyes?) and then Sam was backing up. His mouth gaped like the fish in the aquarium (hey Sammy look I'm Nemo, no wait -- Mine? Miiine mine mine! Dude those things were the best part of the whole damn movie). He was unable to speak, unable to breathe, finally gave up leaving the old couple behind him saying I think he's sick, dear, that kind of sick. He made it to the Impala and unlocked the door with shaking, desperate fingers, and shame pouring down out his eyes.
He collapsed in the seat with five month old receipts and melting peanut M&Ms tight in his fists, squeezing for any drop of Dean to come back. His knuckles turned white, but for all his efforts he got nothing. The well was dry. He didn't know his heart would still have pieces left to break, but then, Sam was incredibly shitty psychic.
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