The Benders: Epilogue, 1/1, PG-13, Supernatural

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Hokay, there will be no Her Saving Grace this time around; sorry, prompt just didn't fit. But I have my very first Supernatural fic that DID fit, and strangely enough, very well at that.

Title: The Benders Epilogue
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1 of 1
Fandom: Supernatural (Dean and Sam; no Wincest)
Prompt: #45 - Argos for tamingthemuse
Disclaimer: I own neither boy *sobs* and I sure as hell don't own the show. Except as a season 1 DVD set. Yum.

Word count: 1239

Summary: The epilogue to the creepy ass episode where Sam and Dean have to deal with people hunting people. Sort of answers the question of "What exactly happened while Dean was tied up in the house thinking?" Bit of emotionally hurt!Dean.

Warning to everyone: I'm a bit on the tired side; I've been on my feet for most of today, and this is my first fic with Dean and Sam (writing them), so if they seem a bit out of character...well, I don't think they are, but if you see any blatant mistakes, you holler. I'll hear you.

Indiana still isn't anything to look at, really. Especially this part of it. But they're not anywhere near where the scarecrow god almost got Dean, and they're certainly far away enough from Minnesota, where people, honest to goodness people, humans, hunt humans. For fun.

Dean grits his teeth and feels his fingers tighten on the wheel. Freakin' psychos, all of them. Two of them got loaded into a SWAT van, heavily bound, one of them was pulled out of the house kicking and screaming (little bitch was lucky Dean hadn't killed her on his way out of the house), and one of them was dead. He knew; they'd hidden in the side shrubbery, waiting to see them get hauled out. Sam had wanted to go, and get the farthest he could from the property, but Dean had stayed. Needed to stay, needed to see them hauled off by the cops.

And Sam, for once in his life, hadn't objected or argued with Dean. He'd stayed right behind him, and Dean had felt his presence, known that if he'd reached behind, he'd have placed his palm into a solid stomach. His brother's stomach. The stomach that could've been blasted apart by a bullet.

He glances over at his brother, who's sleeping soundly against the window. He knows it's sleep and not unconsciousness, because the breathing is steady, and Sam's in the car with him. It strikes Dean then that Sam only really sleeps when they're in the car or when Dean's with him in the hotel room. It's not one of those things where Dean thinks that's the only time his brother sleeps because he's not there the other times; he knows. Knows that when he leaves and Sam says he'll take a nap, he'll still be up when Dean comes back from getting dinner or research or whatever the hell he'd left for in the first place. Knows there'll be an excuse of some type, that he thought he had an idea, he forgot to check something on the computer, anything that means he wasn't sleeping. Dean gets it, and it stirs something within him at the thought: his brother feels safe in his presence.

It's only fair: Dean really only feels comfortable and secure when he knows Sam's right beside him, behind him, or leading the way.

The only time Dean wouldn't be comfortable with Sam around was if Sam happened to be six feet beneath him.

His chest tightens, and he forces out the shuddering breath he's been holding in ever since they left the rotten old place where he'd found jaw bones hanging as wind chimes. Those people were seriously screwed up. And they'd almost killed his little brother.

He'd thought they had. He'd been forced to pick between Sam and the cop as to which one they'd hunt, and he'd picked Sam. Without a doubt, he'd known that Sam could take these rednecks on and kick their asses. He'd worry, yeah, but Sam was more than capable of fending for himself.

Then the man had turned to his son and told him to not let Sam out, to just shoot him in the cage. Dean had pulled and heaved against the ropes, fear and sudden panic shooting through him as he'd tried to get free. Sam was supposed to go free, supposed to be given a chance, and that was the deal, wasn't it?

The gun had been loaded and taken towards the door, and cold fear had turned into hot rage. He'd shouted at them, that if anything happened to Sam, if he even had a scratch on him, Dean would kill them all, so help him. Don't you touch him. He'd kept shouting until he was hoarse, and then the father had punched him and told him to shut up.

That was when he'd heard the gunshot. “Your brother's already dead,” the father had drawled, grinning before he'd called out to his son. Dean hadn't heard him call; all he'd heard was the gunshot going off again and again in his head. Sam was dead. Sammy was dead. Sammy. Dead in a cage because Dean hadn't been able to protect him. Had let him go out alone in the parking lot when he'd known there was something wrong in the neighborhood, and he'd felt sick to his stomach while his chest had twisted into knots that refused to release. Sammy was dead.

The two remaining men had left then, leaving him alone with the messy haired little bitch. She'd grinned and snickered and had played with the poker for a little while, but Dean hadn't cared. All he'd heard was the gunshot, and all he'd seen was Sam (Sammy) on the ground, blood seeping through his clothes, eyes closed forever. Dean hadn't cried, but his eyes had burned, and everything had gone blurry until he'd blinked and let the tears roll down his face.

Then the door had opened, and Dean had raised his head slowly, before his eyes had widened, sending waiting tears down to trail across his cheeks. “Sammy?” he'd breathed, and his brother had grinned. A little blood from a cut on his forehead, shirt and pants stained, but he'd looked better than Dean had felt, and that was enough for Dean. His brother was okay, he was safe, and the knots in his chest had released so fast the breath in his lungs had gone out in a relieved sigh that was heavy and trembling.

Then the little bitch had snarled and leapt forward at Sam, and Dean had yanked hard on his bindings, sending him and the chair down sideways, and his legs and the legs of the chair into her path. “You know, I think I could've taken her,” Sam had told him, grabbing the still ranting child and stuffing her into the nearby closet. “You didn't need to crush your arm for that.”

“Trust me, it was damn well worth it,” Dean had told his brother, before Sam had helped him free. He'd have gotten up on his own just fine, but Sam had offered him a hand up, and if Dean had gripped it a little extra hard and hadn't let go right away, Sam hadn't said anything.

Lights flash ahead, and Dean automatically turns into the parking lot. At the sudden jumble of the difference in cement Sam stirs and wakes up, blearily blinking his eyes. “Wha're we?” he mumbles, and Dean glances around.

“Argos, Indiana,” he tells his brother, parking the car in front of the office. “I'll be right back, okay?”

“I know,” Sam murmurs, his head already lying back down against the window. Dean stops at that, car door open and his left leg already on the cement. He turns and glances over at his brother, whose eyes are closed, but not forever. He's safe, not going anywhere without Dean, and that's just the way Dean wants it.

Because he's sure as hell not going anywhere without his brother.

He stares at him for a few more moments, before sliding out of the seat and closing the car door behind him. The motel isn't anything to look at, and the clerk is an old man who looks bored out of his mind, and there's a radio inside playing some sort of teenie-bop crap, and yet Dean still smiles, because everything's okay. He's got his brother, and that's all he needs.

~Nebula

Comments

[umbralillium.livejournal.com]

*cackles and rubs hands together gleefully* I told my fam about us batting ideas back and forth at Busch Gardens and they said we're a menace together, we feed off each other. ^________^

always headstrong and trying to save the other That's why Faith is right behind Skin on my list of Favorite Season One Episodes. Oooh, wait until Crossroad Blues is aired, then he'll understand. Amber Benson this week! *GLEE!* That death scene at the end of AHBL1 just kills me. Oh my gosh. I knooooow! I was all ready to have a good cry, 'cause OMGNOSAMMY! then Dar had to go and be a BOY. *growls* But, my brother aside, Dean made that scene. God. *sniffles just thinking about it*

*snicker* Welcome, baby! MWAH! ILU!