Fic: Let The Flames Begin
Title: Let The Flames Begin
Author: twivamp92
Character(s)/Pairing: Sam Winchester
Theme: Theme 3- Paranormal State
Prompt: 3o: Fire
Rating: PG-13. swearing, angst, the usual.
Disclaimer: Boys belong to Kripke. Title name belongs to Paramore
Summary: It was too bad Dean forgot to check the stove he was just using on his hurry to get across town to the party.
Word Count: 1824
Warning/Author Notes: Teen!Chesters. Sam is 11, Dean is 15. As always, any and all mistakes are mine. And yeah...I totally went overboard on the wordcount, sorry x]
"Go to sleep, Sammy. I’m just going to the store real quick, kay?” Dean told his gullible 11 year old brother, who quickly nodded at him; the hero worship clear in his eyes, showing that anything Dean said to him would automatically be deemed as the truth and nothing but.
Dean made sure he was tucked in, ruffled his hair and closed the bedroom door behind him, grinning.
And just like that, Dean Winchester got his little brother into bed and was able to sneak off to Julie Adams’ party.
He knew it was wrong to lie to his brother, but this was Julie Adams, the hottest, most popular, and easiest senior at his current school; and she had invited him, even though he was only a sophomore. Even though, hello, he was Dean Winchester -- so of course he had to go.
Too bad he forgot to check the stove he was just using on his hurry to get across town to the party.
**
Sam’s dream world had gone up in flames, literally.
One second, he was dreaming he was back home in Kansas, smiling and laughing with a woman whose face was just hidden from his view by the shadows, but was grinning just the same. And then the next second, she was gone, her grip on his hand loosened as she was ripped away from him and pinned to the ceiling, fire erupting from around her, flames licking at her skin as they consumed her and everything around.
Sam could feel his lips moving, forming screams of protest and fear, but no sound came out. All he could hear was the roar of the fire, burning away at everything he had ever wanted in life.
Sam shot awake, gasping for breath, tears silently streaming down his face. The dream was real, too real. He could still feel the stifling heat; still smell the smoke all around him.
“D-Dean...?” He called out in the dark, expecting his brother to appear by his side instantly as always. But nothing met his call but silence and the ever present smell of smoke.
“Dean.” Sam called out again, squinting around the dark room, eyes landing on the empty bed besides him.
Sam instantly shot out of bed and ran to the door, hissing as his hand met the unusual heat radiating off of the metal doorknob.
When he swung the door open, the smoke slammed into him, filling his lungs and making his eyes water. He coughed and squinted his way out into the small motel room they were currently living in. “D...DEAN!” Sam yelled out through coughs and gasps for breaths. He pulled his shirt over his mouth and nose like he was taught to, but it didn’t make much difference.
Sam knew he should run out of the room and call 911, but Dean had to be in there. He said he was only going to the store, which meant that he must’ve come back hours ago.
Sam looked over to the small kitchenette and saw the fire erupting from the small stove, the curtains nearby already on fire, and spreading to remaining motel room.
The bathroom Sam thought to himself as he launched himself across the room and to the bathroom door, ignoring the pain in his hands again as he turned the knob and barged in, finding the room empty.
“Dammit, Dean...” Sam mumbled to himself before turning back around and staring in horror as the fire continued to consume everything in its path.
Without thinking about it, Sam ran back through the fire, shutting his eyes against the flames that licked at his skin, singeing the fabric of his clothes.
He ran to their room and grabbed their duffels, shutting the door behind him and flicking on the light. He shoved random clothes and weapons and books into the bags as the flames continued to tear through the motel, smoke covering every inch.
His mind was reeling and he couldn’t get the oxygen he desperately needed, but he kept going, body on autopilot and moving to do one thing: escape.
The flames were now surrounding the doorway to his bedroom and the doorway to leave. He was gasping for breath, tears blurring his vision as the smoke burned his eyes.
Dean...where are you...help. He mentally begged as another coughing fit erupted from him, stealing away what little oxygen he had left, making his knees buckle out from under him.
Dean...
**
Dean was currently sitting with Julie Adams in his lap, a position he was loving up until a minute ago, until something just felt...off.
“Dean? What’s wrong, you okay?” She asked as she ran her manicured nails through his short spiky hair, leaning in closer.
“Um...yeah, sure.” He said, shaking his head a bit to clear it before looking back up at her and smirking before claiming her lips as his.
He continued kissing her until the feeling of unease became too much to bare. He pulled away, smiling apologetically as she frowned.
“Sorry, Jewels, but I really gotta get home,” he told her as he pushed her off of him and practically ran to the door, ignoring her words of protest behind him.
Once he was outside of the house, the feeling inside of him continued to grow into full on fear, making him run faster than he ever thought he could, old battered sneakers smacking against the pavement as he pushed his body as fast as he could go. He knew something was wrong, that something had happened to Sammy, he just hoped he wasn’t too late.
When he turned the corner for the motel’s street, the smell hit him; smoke and fire and burning. It was all Dean could do to keep standing once he saw it. Memories of his childhood flooded his brain and blurred his vision; his mind reeling.
His dad screaming.
Sammy crying.
The fire as his baby brother’s room went up flames.
“Take your brother outside as fast as you can, Dean. Go!”
Sammy.
“SAM! No!!!” Dean yelled as he forced his body to move, to get to the room and find his brother before it was too late.
As Dean got closer, he saw other residents crowding around, some clutching phones, others crying, but mostly staring in horror. Dean vaguely heard the sound of sirens in the distance accompanied by screams of protest as Dean made his way into the room, screaming his brother’s name at the top of his lungs.
This was fate’s ironic way of fucking with him, and he knew it.
But he didn’t care. He was a Winchester, a hunter, and hunters defied fate all the time. He was determined to do it again.
Dean’s fear turned into hysterical anger as looked around, finding no trace of Sam or of any of their belongings. Without a second though, Dean turned and fled from the room just as the ceiling began caving in. Dean didn’t pay it or the crowd any attention as his eyes darted to the wooded area nearby and he took off once again.
Once he breached the tree line he began yelling again, voice hoarse from yelling and crying.
That’s when he spotted him.
There, resting against a tree, and surrounded by duffel bags, was Sam.
“Sammy...” Dean whispered as he ran over to his baby brother, and knelt beside him, taking in his appearance. Ash dusted his hair, smoke smudges on and around his face, and edges of his clothes were burned away. His breathing was raspy and his eyes were hooded over, but he was alive and that was all that Dean could hope for.
**
An hour later Dean was pacing the small waiting room of the hospital, cell phone clutched in his hand as he waited for his dad to come back.
He couldn’t believe how close he had been to losing Sam, all because he decided to go to some stupid party. He highly doubted he’d be forgiving himself any time soon.
To say that his dad was angry would’ve been an understatement, but he knew he deserved it, so he took the verbal berating without question.
Dean knew dad was scared, terrified even. Winchesters and fires just didn’t mix, and Dean knew it would be a long time before he trusted himself to use the stove again.
“Dean Morrison?” Dean looked up when the doctor called the name of his current alias and he walked over, anxiety and fear clear on his face.
“Your brother inhaled excessive amounts of carbon monoxide and we’ve found traces of cyanide in his system. He is currently being given pure oxygen and will be required to stay for observations for the 48 to 72 hours. He is also being treated for minor burns on his hands, arms, and feet."
"He is very lucky to be alive, Mr. Morrison. If he had stayed in the room much longer, or if it had taken longer to get here, his condition could be much worse. But, as of right now, he is stable, and should make a full recovery.” The doctor told him with a slight smile.
It took Dean a moment to respond, his brain trying to process all of the information he had just been given.
Words like cyanide and burns and lucky and stable standing out in his mind.
“C-can I see Sammy?” He asked quietly.
The doctor nodded and told him the room number. He had to use all of his will power to keep from running down the hall.
When Dean walked into Sam’s room, he nearly broke down at the sight. His baby brother had needles and wires sticking out of him, machines all around beeping out of sync, hands wrapped up in bandages, and a mask over his face feeding him oxygen.
He walked over and sat in the chair besides the bed, gently taking Sam’s hand in his and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming or crying, he wasn’t sure which one yet.
“D’n...”
“Sam? You awake kiddo?” Dean asked quietly, his question being answered by Sam's barely there hand squeeze.
“Sammy...I’m so sorry I lied to you...I’m so sorry I left. I should’ve listened to Dad...I should’ve stayed, been with you...”
“Dean...s’ok.” Sam rasped out, his eyes fluttering as he struggled to stay awake.
“I won’t ever let this happen again, Sammy, I swear.”
Sam nodded, a little jerk of his head, “I know” he whispered, squeezing Dean’s hand again before exhaustion won out.
That was when Dean swore to himself that no matter what, he would always put Sam first; always protect his baby brother from anything that tried to hurt him.
Parties and girls didn’t matter, looking cool and pretending he was normal didn’t matter, all’s Dean needed was a knife in his boot, a gun in his waistband and his brother and father at his side to matter.
Author: twivamp92
Character(s)/Pairing: Sam Winchester
Theme: Theme 3- Paranormal State
Prompt: 3o: Fire
Rating: PG-13. swearing, angst, the usual.
Disclaimer: Boys belong to Kripke. Title name belongs to Paramore
Summary: It was too bad Dean forgot to check the stove he was just using on his hurry to get across town to the party.
Word Count: 1824
Warning/Author Notes: Teen!Chesters. Sam is 11, Dean is 15. As always, any and all mistakes are mine. And yeah...I totally went overboard on the wordcount, sorry x]
"Go to sleep, Sammy. I’m just going to the store real quick, kay?” Dean told his gullible 11 year old brother, who quickly nodded at him; the hero worship clear in his eyes, showing that anything Dean said to him would automatically be deemed as the truth and nothing but.
Dean made sure he was tucked in, ruffled his hair and closed the bedroom door behind him, grinning.
And just like that, Dean Winchester got his little brother into bed and was able to sneak off to Julie Adams’ party.
He knew it was wrong to lie to his brother, but this was Julie Adams, the hottest, most popular, and easiest senior at his current school; and she had invited him, even though he was only a sophomore. Even though, hello, he was Dean Winchester -- so of course he had to go.
Too bad he forgot to check the stove he was just using on his hurry to get across town to the party.
**
Sam’s dream world had gone up in flames, literally.
One second, he was dreaming he was back home in Kansas, smiling and laughing with a woman whose face was just hidden from his view by the shadows, but was grinning just the same. And then the next second, she was gone, her grip on his hand loosened as she was ripped away from him and pinned to the ceiling, fire erupting from around her, flames licking at her skin as they consumed her and everything around.
Sam could feel his lips moving, forming screams of protest and fear, but no sound came out. All he could hear was the roar of the fire, burning away at everything he had ever wanted in life.
Sam shot awake, gasping for breath, tears silently streaming down his face. The dream was real, too real. He could still feel the stifling heat; still smell the smoke all around him.
“D-Dean...?” He called out in the dark, expecting his brother to appear by his side instantly as always. But nothing met his call but silence and the ever present smell of smoke.
“Dean.” Sam called out again, squinting around the dark room, eyes landing on the empty bed besides him.
Sam instantly shot out of bed and ran to the door, hissing as his hand met the unusual heat radiating off of the metal doorknob.
When he swung the door open, the smoke slammed into him, filling his lungs and making his eyes water. He coughed and squinted his way out into the small motel room they were currently living in. “D...DEAN!” Sam yelled out through coughs and gasps for breaths. He pulled his shirt over his mouth and nose like he was taught to, but it didn’t make much difference.
Sam knew he should run out of the room and call 911, but Dean had to be in there. He said he was only going to the store, which meant that he must’ve come back hours ago.
Sam looked over to the small kitchenette and saw the fire erupting from the small stove, the curtains nearby already on fire, and spreading to remaining motel room.
The bathroom Sam thought to himself as he launched himself across the room and to the bathroom door, ignoring the pain in his hands again as he turned the knob and barged in, finding the room empty.
“Dammit, Dean...” Sam mumbled to himself before turning back around and staring in horror as the fire continued to consume everything in its path.
Without thinking about it, Sam ran back through the fire, shutting his eyes against the flames that licked at his skin, singeing the fabric of his clothes.
He ran to their room and grabbed their duffels, shutting the door behind him and flicking on the light. He shoved random clothes and weapons and books into the bags as the flames continued to tear through the motel, smoke covering every inch.
His mind was reeling and he couldn’t get the oxygen he desperately needed, but he kept going, body on autopilot and moving to do one thing: escape.
The flames were now surrounding the doorway to his bedroom and the doorway to leave. He was gasping for breath, tears blurring his vision as the smoke burned his eyes.
Dean...where are you...help. He mentally begged as another coughing fit erupted from him, stealing away what little oxygen he had left, making his knees buckle out from under him.
Dean...
**
Dean was currently sitting with Julie Adams in his lap, a position he was loving up until a minute ago, until something just felt...off.
“Dean? What’s wrong, you okay?” She asked as she ran her manicured nails through his short spiky hair, leaning in closer.
“Um...yeah, sure.” He said, shaking his head a bit to clear it before looking back up at her and smirking before claiming her lips as his.
He continued kissing her until the feeling of unease became too much to bare. He pulled away, smiling apologetically as she frowned.
“Sorry, Jewels, but I really gotta get home,” he told her as he pushed her off of him and practically ran to the door, ignoring her words of protest behind him.
Once he was outside of the house, the feeling inside of him continued to grow into full on fear, making him run faster than he ever thought he could, old battered sneakers smacking against the pavement as he pushed his body as fast as he could go. He knew something was wrong, that something had happened to Sammy, he just hoped he wasn’t too late.
When he turned the corner for the motel’s street, the smell hit him; smoke and fire and burning. It was all Dean could do to keep standing once he saw it. Memories of his childhood flooded his brain and blurred his vision; his mind reeling.
His dad screaming.
Sammy crying.
The fire as his baby brother’s room went up flames.
“Take your brother outside as fast as you can, Dean. Go!”
Sammy.
“SAM! No!!!” Dean yelled as he forced his body to move, to get to the room and find his brother before it was too late.
As Dean got closer, he saw other residents crowding around, some clutching phones, others crying, but mostly staring in horror. Dean vaguely heard the sound of sirens in the distance accompanied by screams of protest as Dean made his way into the room, screaming his brother’s name at the top of his lungs.
This was fate’s ironic way of fucking with him, and he knew it.
But he didn’t care. He was a Winchester, a hunter, and hunters defied fate all the time. He was determined to do it again.
Dean’s fear turned into hysterical anger as looked around, finding no trace of Sam or of any of their belongings. Without a second though, Dean turned and fled from the room just as the ceiling began caving in. Dean didn’t pay it or the crowd any attention as his eyes darted to the wooded area nearby and he took off once again.
Once he breached the tree line he began yelling again, voice hoarse from yelling and crying.
That’s when he spotted him.
There, resting against a tree, and surrounded by duffel bags, was Sam.
“Sammy...” Dean whispered as he ran over to his baby brother, and knelt beside him, taking in his appearance. Ash dusted his hair, smoke smudges on and around his face, and edges of his clothes were burned away. His breathing was raspy and his eyes were hooded over, but he was alive and that was all that Dean could hope for.
**
An hour later Dean was pacing the small waiting room of the hospital, cell phone clutched in his hand as he waited for his dad to come back.
He couldn’t believe how close he had been to losing Sam, all because he decided to go to some stupid party. He highly doubted he’d be forgiving himself any time soon.
To say that his dad was angry would’ve been an understatement, but he knew he deserved it, so he took the verbal berating without question.
Dean knew dad was scared, terrified even. Winchesters and fires just didn’t mix, and Dean knew it would be a long time before he trusted himself to use the stove again.
“Dean Morrison?” Dean looked up when the doctor called the name of his current alias and he walked over, anxiety and fear clear on his face.
“Your brother inhaled excessive amounts of carbon monoxide and we’ve found traces of cyanide in his system. He is currently being given pure oxygen and will be required to stay for observations for the 48 to 72 hours. He is also being treated for minor burns on his hands, arms, and feet."
"He is very lucky to be alive, Mr. Morrison. If he had stayed in the room much longer, or if it had taken longer to get here, his condition could be much worse. But, as of right now, he is stable, and should make a full recovery.” The doctor told him with a slight smile.
It took Dean a moment to respond, his brain trying to process all of the information he had just been given.
Words like cyanide and burns and lucky and stable standing out in his mind.
“C-can I see Sammy?” He asked quietly.
The doctor nodded and told him the room number. He had to use all of his will power to keep from running down the hall.
When Dean walked into Sam’s room, he nearly broke down at the sight. His baby brother had needles and wires sticking out of him, machines all around beeping out of sync, hands wrapped up in bandages, and a mask over his face feeding him oxygen.
He walked over and sat in the chair besides the bed, gently taking Sam’s hand in his and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming or crying, he wasn’t sure which one yet.
“D’n...”
“Sam? You awake kiddo?” Dean asked quietly, his question being answered by Sam's barely there hand squeeze.
“Sammy...I’m so sorry I lied to you...I’m so sorry I left. I should’ve listened to Dad...I should’ve stayed, been with you...”
“Dean...s’ok.” Sam rasped out, his eyes fluttering as he struggled to stay awake.
“I won’t ever let this happen again, Sammy, I swear.”
Sam nodded, a little jerk of his head, “I know” he whispered, squeezing Dean’s hand again before exhaustion won out.
That was when Dean swore to himself that no matter what, he would always put Sam first; always protect his baby brother from anything that tried to hurt him.
Parties and girls didn’t matter, looking cool and pretending he was normal didn’t matter, all’s Dean needed was a knife in his boot, a gun in his waistband and his brother and father at his side to matter.