OhSam Triple Play 2015!
The comm hosted this little event a couple of years ago, and as November 2 is an auspicious day for our darling Sam, today would be the perfect time to revisit this challenge. Welcome to the Triple Play 2015!
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2.) Other character: Dean
3.) H/C scenario: tornado related injuries
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The salt and burn went easy, the ghost appeared, a man in a suit standing in the grass but he crackled in the electricity of the early night and didn’t attack. Dean fired a salt blast through him anyway. Sam dropped the lit matchbook and the bones lit blue and yellow in the too still air. He’d thrown his jacket and his shirt over a gravestone, and dug in just his t-shirt, the air was so close.
“Feels like weather,” Dean said, looking up again at the night sky.
Sam may not have grown up in Kansas but he had spent enough time on the plains to know what Dean meant. Somewhere out there was a storm. The sky above them was the deep green of a bruise. Tornado weather. It was as if he could feel the air pressure dropping, a great storm cloud turning above them. He stuck his shovel in the dirt, time to fill the grave and finish this up.
Then the wind started coming up and he could smell the coming rain.
“Screw this,” Dean said. “It’s gonna come down in buckets.”
( ... )
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She bit her lip and reached down and pushed something. Dean gestured for her to lead the way.
“Why the cooler?” a guy asked.
“No windows, reinforced,” Sam said. He brought up the rear, herding.
“Won’t we effing suffocate?” a middle-aged woman asked. She was, Sam noted with amusement, smoking.
“It’s got a handle on the inside,” the girl said. No one was moving fast. Civilians were mind-boggling.
The rain had slowed. Sam glanced over his shoulder as everyone shuffled towards the back of the store. A car pulled into the lot, stopping at the pumps. He heard a sound like a train. Not so good. A girl in jeans got out and looked out into the dark.
He had it in his head that when you heard a tornado-and the classic description was sounding like a freight train-you had less than a minute to get to shelter. Already he was counting seconds in his head.
“Get them in, Dean,” he called and ran out the front door.
Outside he could hear ( ... )
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For a moment he just lay there in the warm air, listening to the beat of his heart in his ears.
“You okay?” he asked the girl tucked in his arms and his voice sounded as if he had his fingers in his ears. He couldn’t tell what was laying on top of him.
She answered something he couldn’t hear. He swallowed and his ears popped. “Don’t move for a moment, okay?” he said loudly, although he still sounded muted. He wondered if he’d ruptured his eardrums.
He slowly loosened his hold. The girl moved a little in his arms.
As best he could figure out part of the roof was laying half on them, partly held up by debris so they hadn't been crushed but he felt tangled and trapped. “Are you okay?” he asked again loudly.
“Yeah,” she said and he could tell she was raising her voice so he could hear.
“Can you wiggle your toes? Does your head or neck or back hurt?”
“I can move everything,” she said.
He braced his shoulder against whatever was on them and then ( ... )
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“SAMMY!”
His ears were still ringing but his hearing was better. “DEAN!”
The girl’s name was Suong Minh but mostly she went by Sue. She was eighteen and a senior in high school and was coming home from babysitting. Sam had kept her talking to keep her calm: emergency services were somewhat overloaded. She called her parents but they were stuck in their neighborhood by fallen trees. Lying still he hurt but not too bad (okay, his definition of too bad was probably not the average definition of too bad) but something was seriously going on because he was getting wonky. Sue turned on her phone so the screen was lit and waved it for Dean. “He’s here! He’s stuck!”
He was stupidly, irrationally grateful to see Dean, who had a scrape on his forehead but otherwise looked good. “How did you get out?” he asked.
“The roof is still held up by the back wall, like a lean to,” Dean said. “We just had to dig our way out.” Dean flicked the flashlight over the area. “Roof is not your best look.” ( ... )
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Sam closed his eyes and took deep breaths until his head felt clearer. When he opened his eyes again, Dean was looking down at him, visible in flashlight. “Sue called 911,” Sam said. Then he raised his head. His boot as sitting on a chunk of wood so his leg was raised and there was a long shard of glass sticking out of his thigh. Which was weird because it was the back of his thigh that hurt. Just some glass in his leg. Right. “Dean? Is it all the way through?”
“Yep,” Dean said. “And it’s going to stay there until the professionals pull it out.” He was pulling his belt through his belt loops.
“Good plan,” Sam said, feeling a little sick. Pull it out and he’d probably bleed like a drinking fountain. At least it wasn’t near the femoral artery.
“Next time, you lead everybody to the promised land,” Dean said. He looped his belt around Sam’s thigh above the shard.
“The promised land?” Sam said.
“Dude, it was a beer cooler.” Dean pulled the belt tight into a ( ... )
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“How long has it been?” Sam asked.
“Almost two hours.”
“Time’s jumping,” Sam said. “Like with Gadreel.”
He heard Dean’s sharp intake of breath.
“Sorry,” Sam said. “Kind of out of it.”
“It’s okay,” Dean said quietly and there was a hand on his forehead. “Just rest, okay?”
He closed his eyes again and Dean was saying, “Sam. Sammy.” He opened his eyes and red lights were splashing across everything, the sound of an EMT truck bouncing over the curb. “Sam? Come on little brother. Eyes here.”
Sam blinked at Dean. “Shock,” he tried to say but no sound came out.
“Took you long enough,” Dean growled at someone.
“There’s an entire subdivision that’s just basically matchsticks and trees down blocking the roads", said a woman’s voice. An EMT leaned over him and said, “Hi, can you tell me your name?” She had blond hair pulled back in a pony tail and looked so clean and dry.
“Sam,” he said and this time sound came out. “ ( ... )
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They were back at the Bunker three days later. Castiel had healed the post-op. “This freaking long,” Dean explained, holding up his hands.
“It was not,” Sam said. “Every time you tell it, it gets longer. It’s like a fishing story.” He preferred not to think about it.
“What’s a fishing story?” Cas asked. He was sitting at the table with Sam while Dean leaned against the counter.
“When fisherman tell stories about catching fish, every time they tell the story, the fish gets bigger,” Sam said, showing with his hands. He went back to his laptop. There was still news of the aftermath of the tornadoes all over the Internet. He clicked on a link about Hobart, hoping he could show Cas where they were. People survive in beer cooler or something.
There was his leg. And the freaking piece of glass.
“What’d you find,” Dean asked. He came behind Sam. “I WAS RIGHT! THERE IT IS!” It was Sue’s photo. The headline was NO DEATHS THREE INJURED IN HOBART and under it, Sam’s leg ( ... )
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The natural as much a threat as the supernatural, yeah. You've been in this landscape, I know; I feel it.
So great!
P.S. I wish I could clear my throat in more than 500 words, heh.
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Plus, I really enjoyed all the tornado safety information. Awesome fic! Thank you for sharing :)
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