Well, hello,
I'm actually on time this week instead of a few days late - what's wrong with me.....
Anyway, here's another one-shot - another tag this time. Very ususual for me as well - I think this is only the third or fourth tag I've ever written.
Anyway, hope you enjoy.
Thanks to the usual suspects - Chasidern for another awesome banner, and Ziggy for her red pen corrections - LOL. Thanks, girls.
And standard disclaimers apply - don't own them, but oh, how I wish.......
Jules
A Hundred Possibilities –
by MizpahThere were dozens of different ways the scenario could have played out, and Dean relives them one by one...Tag to 5.06 I Believe The Children Are Our Future, and contains spoilers for all of Season 5 up to and including that episodeDean looked around as they followed the kid to the kitchen. His searching gaze took in the standard well-worn decor – tacky seventies wallpaper, homemade curtains at the window, dishes left to dry on the edge of the sink, refrigerator covered in photographs and notes. A coloured pencil sketch caught his eye and he moved closer, only vaguely aware of his brother’s fumbling attempt to engage the kid in conversation as he slid the paper from under the magnet pinning it to the fridge door.
It was a child’s drawing of a bearded figure with wings and a pink tutu – and it perfectly matched the description of the toothless victim’s mystery attacker.
Flipping the sketch around, Dean walked the few steps to his brother’s side and held up the paper for the boy to see. “Did you draw this?”
The kid nodded. “That’s the tooth fairy.”
Dean glanced down at the drawing, a faint smirk curling his lips. “That’s what you think the tooth fairy looks like, huh?”
“Yeah. My dad told me about him.”
The elder Winchester shot a meaningful glance at his sibling and gave a tiny nod in response. He was pretty sure they had a winner here... “Huh.”
Jesse’s puzzled gaze flicked between the brothers. “What? Didn’t your dad tell you about the tooth fairy?”
“My dad?” Dean gave a short, half-hearted laugh as Sam shifted uncomfortably next to him. “My dad told me different stories.”
His grin widened as he laid the paper aside. If the kid only knew what kind of stories his dad had told him...
“Well, the tooth fairy isn’t a story,” the boy replied adamantly.
Dean looked at Sam once more before returning his attention to the kid. “What do you know about itching powder, Jesse?”
“That stuff’ll make you scratch your brains out!”
The hunter nodded briefly, his eyes flicking to his brother. Just like the babysitter... “Pop Rocks and coke?”
“You mix them and you’ll end up in the hospital. Everyone knows that.”
Sam shifted again, sliding his hands deeper into his pockets. Dean knew his brother was putting the pieces of the puzzle together just as quickly as he was. Pursing his lips, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the lethal joy buzzer, deciding that he might as well go for broke. He was certain he’d found their trickster. Slipping the buzzer onto his finger, he held it up for the boy to see.
Worry crept into Jesse’s earnest gaze. “You shouldn’t have that.”
“Why not?” Dean asked innocently.
“It can electrocute you!”
Licking his lips, Dean pulled out all the stops on the hard sell. “Actually, it can’t,” he declared, flashing Jesse a sincere smile. “It’s just a wind-up toy. It’s totally harmless.” He dropped his gaze briefly to the deadly toy before looking back at the wide-eyed boy. “Doesn’t even have batteries.”
Jesse blinked. “So it can’t shock you.”
Dean shook his head. “Nope. Not at all. I swear.”
The boy stared long and hard at the buzzer as he processed the new information. Finally a glimmer of acceptance showed in his eyes. “Oh....okay.”
The shorter hunter’s smirk returned as an idea popped into his head. He was pretty damned sure he’d convinced the kid that the buzzer was harmless, so it couldn't hurt to have a little fun with the thing.
“I mean all it does is just shake in your hand. It’s kinda lame.” Dean watched Jesse’s eyes as he began to move his hand. “See?”
Without a second’s hesitation, he reached across and pressed the buzzer against Sam’s chest.
The taller Winchester instantly convulsed, a strangled grunt bursting from his lips as a thousand volts coursed through his body. Limbs jerking uncontrollably, blue sparks flying from his hair, fingertips and open mouth, Sam was flung back against the sink. He hung there for a breathless few seconds before sliding to the floor, a betrayed look on his rapidly paling face.
Dean froze in horror, his arm outstretched, the deadly toy still sparking on his finger. As Jesse let out a panicked scream, the hunter threw the buzzer across the room and lunged for his fallen brother, landing hard on his knees by Sam’s side.
“I told you! I told you they could kill you! I told you!” Jesse clutched at his hair, his stricken eyes never leaving the hunters. “I told you!”
His heart pounding like a trip-hammer, Dean ran trembling hands over his brother’s still twitching frame. “Sam – oh, God – no, no, no...”
Sam’s eyelids fluttered closed, one last breath rasping from blue-tinged lips.
“No, no, no – stay with me. Sammy, stay with me! Sam!” Panic clawed at Dean’s throat as he searched frantically for a pulse beneath his brother’s clammy skin. “Call nine-one-one,” he threw over his shoulder, rolling Sam onto his back before placing both hands over the younger man’s heart. “Jesse! Call nine-one-one! Now!”
Turning back to his brother, Dean began CPR. “I’m sorry – I’m sorry – it was supposed to be a joke. Stay with me, Sam – please, you gotta stay with me. I didn’t mean it – I didn’t mean it. Sammy...God, please...”
He was still begging ten minutes later when the paramedics dragged him away from Sam’s lifeless body. * * * * *
Dean gasped and jerked awake, hands flailing out in panic. Struggling into a sitting position, he freed himself from the tight cocoon of blankets wrapped around his body before turning towards the second bed, his heart hammering against his ribcage. A familiar coverlet-swathed mound topped by a tousled mop of hair met his frantic gaze and he slumped in relief, reaching up to scrub a shaking hand over his face.
“Just a nightmare,” he whispered raggedly. “Just a nightmare.”
Swinging his legs over the side of the mattress, Dean pressed both feet carefully to the worn carpet. Not trusting his body to hold him up just yet, he settled for resting elbows on knees while he watched the gentle rise and fall of his brother’s ribcage.
It was just a stupid nightmare, he repeated silently to himself. That was all. It hadn’t happened that way at all. The buzzer was a harmless toy. Jesse had believed him. Sam was okay.
Wasn’t he?
Fear sent icy tendrils down Dean’s sweat-soaked back. Clambering ungracefully to his feet, he wobbled for a moment before taking the two short steps to the other bed. He stretched out a trembling hand to grip his brother’s blanket-covered shoulder.
Sam woke immediately, his eyes widening in alarm when he spotted the dark figure looming over him. One arm swept out in an automatic reflex, knocking Dean’s hand away an instant before his sleep-fogged brain recognised the familiar outline of his big brother.
“Dean? What the hell?”
Clearing his throat in embarrassment, the elder hunter straightened up, his gaze bouncing around the darkened room. “Uh – s-sorry. I uh – just...”
“Are you all right?”
“What? Yeah. I’m fine.” Dean took a hesitant step back, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. “I just – I was – needed the bathroom.”
Sam’s face scrunched in disgust. “So – what – you were just gonna piss on my head?”
“What? No!” Catching the brief look of worry and sorrow that flitted across his brother’s shadowed features; Dean stretched out a placating hand. “No, I – I was just – was just gonna – gonna ask you – where’s – where’s the bathroom?”
Silently raising one arm, Sam pointed to a door in the opposite wall. He watched his brother weave unsteadily towards it and disappear inside, a worried frown furrowing his brow once the elder man was out of view. Dean had looked shaken, like something bad had happened.
Propping himself up on one elbow, Sam flicked on the bedside lamp and scrutinised the room, finding nothing out of place. Their duffles hung from the bedposts, salt guns resting against the nightstand between the beds, Sam’s handgun and Dean’s favourite bowie knife under their respective pillows. The salt lines and wards placed about the room remained undisturbed, as were the empty pizza box and two laptops sharing space on the small table under the window. There was no evidence of anything that might have spooked his brother.
The hunter’s frown deepened. Casting a glance towards the bathroom as he heard the toilet flush, he waited for his sibling to re-emerge. Maybe Dean would tell him what was wrong once he’d calmed down a little.
Yeah, right, Dean willingly caring and sharing? With me of all people? Sam thought bitterly.
I believe in unicorns, too. Dean tugged open the door and stepped back into the main room, throwing a brief look at his brother. Swallowing hard, he made his way across the floor, straightened the tangle of blankets and dropped wearily into bed, pulling the covers up to his waist.
“Dean?”
The elder hunter snapped off the light. “What?”
“You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Just got a little disoriented in the dark is all. Go back to sleep.”
“Right.” Sam let slip an exasperated sigh before rolling over, putting his back to his brother.
A few tense minutes later, the younger man’s respirations slowed and deepened, and Dean chewed on his lower lip as he stared up at the ceiling, mulling over the day’s events in his mind.
The damned hunt had gone seriously south, and Sam had been quieter than usual when they’d finally pulled away from the Turner farm earlier that evening. Deciding to pull in somewhere for the night, Dean had headed for Mitchell and found a motel, figuring to get a few hours rest before making an early start in the morning. They were both beat, and Sam...
Sam was hurting.
Heaving a soft sigh, Dean turned his head to study the blanket-covered lump in the opposite bed. He’d seen the wounded look in his brother’s eyes when Castiel had confronted Sam about his choices. And he’d spotted that same look again while Sam had told Jesse the truth about who and what he was. But more than that, there had been an undercurrent of something else to that look. Dean hadn’t bothered to ask his brother what was worrying him, because they were still not completely at ease with each other these days, not after everything that had happened. But he had wondered whether Sam was still pissed about the buzzer thing.
But no, he reasoned, it was deeper than Sam just being pissy about a stupid joke. It was more like...
Betrayal.
Dean wiped a light sheen of sweat from his forehead as details of the nightmare played themselves out in his head. He could still see his brother’s eyes fill with hurt, before the light faded from the hazel orbs forever. Shivering, the elder hunter tugged the blankets higher, burrowing down into their comforting warmth as he flipped onto his side facing Sam’s slumbering form.
Just a nightmare, he reminded himself. Maybe a little residual guilt over the pain he’d caused his brother.
I’ll make it up to him, Dean vowed silently.
Get him somethin’ special for breakfast. It’ll be okay.He watched his sleeping sibling, his eyelids gradually growing heavier. Finally, the hunter relaxed against the mattress as sleep overcame him.
* * * * *
Sam shifted again, sliding his hands deeper into his pockets. Dean knew his brother was putting the pieces of the puzzle together just as quickly as he was. Pursing his lips, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the lethal joy buzzer, deciding that he might as well go for broke. He was certain he’d found their trickster. Slipping the buzzer onto his finger, he held it up for the boy to see.
Worry crept into Jesse’s earnest gaze. “You shouldn’t have that.”
“Why not?” Dean asked innocently.
“It can electrocute you!”
Licking his lips, Dean pulled out all the stops on the hard sell. “Actually, it can’t,” he declared, flashing Jesse a sincere smile. “It’s just a wind-up toy. It’s totally harmless.” He dropped his gaze briefly to the deadly toy before returning his attention to the wide-eyed boy. “Doesn’t even have batteries.”
Jesse blinked. “So it can’t shock you.”
Dean shook his head. “Nope. Not at all. I swear.”
The boy looked long and hard at the buzzer as he processed the new information. Finally a glimmer of acceptance showed in his eyes. “Oh....okay.”
The shorter hunter’s smirk returned as an idea popped into his head. He was pretty damned sure he’d convinced the kid that the buzzer was harmless, so it couldn't hurt to have a little fun with the thing.
“I mean all it does is just shake in your hand. It’s kinda lame.” Dean watched Jesse’s eyes as he began to move his hand. “See?”
Without a second’s hesitation, he reached across and pressed the buzzer against Sam’s chest.
The taller Winchester instantly convulsed, a strangled grunt bursting from his lips as a thousand volts coursed through his body. Limbs jerking uncontrollably, blue sparks flying from his hair, fingertips and open mouth, Sam was flung back against the sink. He hung there for a breathless few seconds before sliding to the floor, a betrayed look on his rapidly paling face.
Dean froze in horror, his arm outstretched, the deadly toy still sparking on his finger. As Jesse let out a panicked scream, the hunter threw the buzzer across the room and lunged for his fallen brother, landing hard on his knees by Sam’s side.
“I told you! I told you they could kill you! I told you!” Jesse clutched at his hair, his stricken eyes never leaving the hunters. “I told you!”
His heart pounding like a trip-hammer, Dean ran trembling hands over his brother’s still twitching frame. “Sam – oh, God – no, no, no...”
Sam’s eyelids fluttered closed, breath rasping from blue-tinged lips.
“No, no, no – stay with me. Sammy, stay with me! Sam!” Panic clawed at Dean’s throat as he searched frantically for a pulse beneath his brother’s clammy skin. “Call nine-one-one,” he threw over his shoulder, rolling Sam onto his back before placing both hands over the younger man’s heart. “Jesse! Call nine-one-one! Now!”
Turning back to his brother, Dean began CPR. “I’m sorry – I’m sorry – it was supposed to be a joke. Stay with me, Sam – please, you gotta stay with me. I didn’t mean it – I didn’t mean it. Sammy...God, please...”
Ten minutes later, the paramedics shouldered him roughly aside and took over, working frantically to keep the younger hunter’s damaged heart beating. Dean knelt on the floor a few feet away, hands clenched into fists as the EMT’s shocked his brother back to tenuous life. Struggling to his feet, Dean kept out of the way while the paramedics prepared Sam for transport and strapped him onto the gurney. He followed them outside and ran for the Impala, throwing himself behind the wheel as the siren started wailing.
“Be okay, please be okay...” he muttered continuously, eyes glued to the rear of the ambulance, oblivious to the rest of the traffic as he followed the speeding vehicle through the streets. “Sammy, please be okay...”
It seemed to take forever to reach the hospital. Finally the emergency vehicle roared into the ER entrance, the black Chevy veering off to skid into a nearby parking space. Dean flung himself from the car, not bothering to lock the doors before sprinting to the back of the ambulance. Impatiently he tugged the doors open and peered inside, only to meet the sympathetic gaze of the older EMT as the man peeled an oxygen mask off Sam’s face.
“I’m sorry, son. We lost him on the way. There was nothing we could do.”
Dean felt as if someone had just sucker-punched him in the gut. Sagging at the waist, he clutched the door in a white-knuckled grip, his gaze falling to his brother.
Sam lay on his back, shirt open to expose his chest and the livid burn mark running down the left hand side. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling of the ambulance, mouth slightly agape, his features still wearing a look of hurt and betrayal even in death.
“No, no, no...”
“I’m sorry.”
“No...” The rest of the world greyed out, his vision tunnelling down to his brother’s pale, lax face. “No...oh, God...no...”
Dean slowly sank to his knees.
“SAM!”* * * * *
Dean twitched, eyes rolling rapidly beneath closed lids as his respiration sped up. Tossing his head from side to side on the sweat-drenched pillow, he murmured his brother’s name before falling back into a deep sleep.
* * * * *
“I mean all it does is just shake in your hand. It’s kinda lame.” Dean watched Jesse’s eyes as he began to move his hand. “See?”
Without a second’s hesitation, he reached across and pressed the buzzer against Sam’s chest.
The taller Winchester instantly convulsed, a strangled grunt bursting from his lips as a thousand volts coursed through his body. Limbs jerking uncontrollably, blue sparks flying from his hair, fingertips and open mouth, Sam was flung back against the sink. He hung there for a breathless few seconds before sliding to the floor, a betrayed look on his rapidly paling face.
Dean froze in horror, his arm outstretched, the deadly toy still sparking on his finger. As Jesse let out a panicked scream, the hunter threw the buzzer across the room and lunged for his fallen brother, landing hard on his knees by Sam’s side.
“I told you! I told you they could kill you! I told you!” Jesse clutched at his hair, his stricken eyes never leaving the hunters. “I told you!”
His heart pounding like a trip-hammer, Dean ran trembling hands over his brother’s still twitching frame. “Sam – oh, God – no, no, no...”
Sam’s eyelids fluttered closed, one last breath rasping from blue-tinged lips.
“No, no, no – stay with me. Sammy, stay with me! Sam!” Panic clawed at Dean’s throat as he searched frantically for a pulse beneath his brother’s clammy skin. “Call nine-one-one,” he threw over his shoulder, rolling Sam onto his back before placing both hands over the younger man’s heart. “Jesse! Call nine-one-one! Now!”
Turning back to his brother, Dean began CPR. “I’m sorry – I’m sorry – it was supposed to be a joke. Stay with me, Sam – please, you gotta stay with me. I didn’t mean it – I didn’t mean it. Sammy...God, please...”
“Dean.”
Dean’s head snapped up at the familiar deep voice, relief flooding through him. “Cas! Help me!”
The angel cocked his head to one side; blue eyes alight with confusion as he studied the hunters. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Don’t just stand there! Help me get Sam to the hospital, damn it!”
“But isn’t this what you wanted, Dean? You said you were done with ‘that son of a bitch’. Did I not hear you correctly?”
“What? No...”
“You told me you were glad to be free of your family.”
“No, I didn’t – I didn’t mean it. I didn’t...”
“He was always a burden to you.”
“No. No, it wasn’t like that, it wasn’t...”
“Even if I could help him, I would not.”
Dean stared in horror at his friend. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “W-what?”
“He brought about the end of the world. This is a fitting punishment for his sins.”
“No. No, he didn’t sin, he didn’t – he was sold out! You know that as well as I do!”
“He made his choice. It was the wrong one.”
“He didn’t have all the intel!”
Castiel eyed the young boy cowering in the corner as he drew the demon-killing knife from his belt. “One demonic freak down, one to go,” he quipped, moving determinedly towards Jesse’s small form. “Don’t worry Dean, I don’t mind batting cleanup for you.”
“NO!”* * * * *
Jerking awake for the second time that night, Sam frowned, trying to figure out what had disturbed his slumber.
“Saaaamm.”
The younger Winchester sighed worriedly as the hoarse whisper floated from the darkness. It sounded like his brother was in pain. Throwing the covers back, he padded across to the other bed and placed a hand on the elder man’s shoulder.
“Dean.”
“Saaam. Nooo, nooo...”
Sam flicked on the bedside lamp and studied Dean’s pale face in concern. “Dean, what’s wrong?”
Dean mumbled a string of words that Sam couldn’t understand, his eyes scrunched closed. The taller hunter suddenly realised that his sibling wasn’t calling out to him, but caught in the grip of a nightmare.
“Dean, wake up. Dean!”
“Noooo...”
“DEAN!”
The slumbering Winchester didn’t respond.
Reaching out, Sam rested his palm against Dean’s forehead, feeling the heat radiating from the shorter hunter’s skin. “Fever. Man, what’s going on with you?”
Sam grabbed a bowl from the kitchenette, filled it with cool water and set it on the nightstand. Hurrying to the bathroom, he switched on the light, snatched a washcloth from the vanity unit and returned to his brother’s side, dipping the washcloth into the cool water. Gently he began bathing the sweat from his brother’s face and neck.
“Dean, you gotta wake up. Come on, dude, snap out of it.”
Dean groaned, his hands twitching as the nightmare pulled him further down.
* * * * *
“I mean all it does is just shake in your hand. It’s kinda lame.” Dean watched Jesse’s eyes as he began to move his hand. “See?”
Without a second’s hesitation, he reached across and pressed the buzzer against Sam’s chest.
The taller Winchester jerked in shock, a strangled grunt bursting from his lips as he felt the buzzer’s vibration directly over his heart. Reeling back, he stared at his brother in stunned disbelief. Dean grinned, holding the offending item aloft.
Sam swung around, giving vent to an outraged snort as Jesse grinned at their antics. Looming over his shorter brother, the hazel-eyed hunter glared at his smirking sibling.
Dean quickly turned to face the amused young boy. “So, what did you say your name was?
“Jesse.”
“Jesse.” Dean nodded. “We’ll be in touch, Jesse.”
Inclining his head, he led his fuming sibling to the door. As they reached the porch, Sam shouldered past him and stalked down the stairs, his body practically vibrating with anger. Dean caught up to him halfway along the path.
Sam’s chest heaved. “Dude,” he began, holding out both hands, fingers slightly crooked as if he wasn’t sure whether to take a swing at his brother. “What the hell?”
“I had a hunch and I went with it.”
Turning to face his brother, Sam gave the older hunter an incensed glare. “You risked my ass on a hunch?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re fine...” he began, just as Sam pressed a hand to his chest. “Sam?”
Sam’s face paled. He hunched over, his features twisting in agony. “Oh, God...”
An icy finger of fear traced its way down Dean’s spine. “Sam?”
Gasping for breath, the taller hunter sank to the ground, his eyes wide.
“De...” Sam croaked, hands clawing at his tie.
“Sammy?” Dean dropped to one knee, reaching out to grasp his sibling’s shoulders.
“Can’t – breathe...heart...”
“No, no, no...”
Sam’s lips turned blue. “Guhhhhhh....”
“No! NO!” Frantically Dean flipped his brother onto his back, tugged off the constricting tie and threw it aside. “Sammy, stay with me!”
The younger man’s hands fluttered helplessly before falling limply to his sides.
“NO!” Positioning his hands over Sam’s heart, Dean started compressions. “Hold on, Sam, hold on!”
“I told you.”
Dean twisted around, to see the young antichrist standing calmly near the edge of the porch.
Jesse nodded towards the fallen hunter and smiled smugly. “I was right. Those things can kill you.”
“NOOOOO!”* * * * *
Sam chewed on his lip as he continued to dab the sweat from his brother’s face. “Dean, come on, man, wake up. You’re scaring me here.”
The elder Winchester moaned in his sleep, rolling his head towards the sound of Sam’s voice. “S-sam...”
“I’m right here, man.”
“Sam...no...”
Sighing in frustration, Sam dipped the washcloth into the bowl and wrung it out before running it repeatedly over Dean’s clammy skin.
“Come on, Dean, snap out of it. Dean, wake up, damn it!”
* * * * *
The taller Winchester instantly convulsed, a strangled grunt bursting from his lips as a thousand volts coursed through his body. Limbs jerking uncontrollably, blue sparks flying from his hair, fingertips and open mouth, Sam was flung back against the sink. He hung there for a breathless few seconds before sliding to the floor, a betrayed look on his rapidly paling face.
Dean froze in horror, his arm outstretched, the deadly toy still sparking on his finger. As Jesse let out a panicked scream, the hunter threw the buzzer across the room and lunged for his fallen brother, landing hard on his knees by Sam’s side.
“I told you! I told you they could kill you! I told you!” Jesse clutched at his hair, his stricken eyes never leaving the hunters. “I told you!”
His heart pounding like a trip-hammer, Dean ran trembling hands over his brother’s still twitching frame. “Sam – oh, God – no, no, no...”
Sam’s eyelids fluttered closed, one last breath rasping from blue-tinged lips.
“No, no, no – stay with me. Sammy, stay with me! Sam!” Panic clawed at Dean’s throat as he searched frantically for a pulse beneath his brother’s clammy skin. “Call nine-one-one,” he threw over his shoulder, rolling Sam onto his back before placing both hands over the younger man’s heart. “Jesse! Call nine-one-one! Now!”
Turning back to his brother, Dean began CPR. “I’m sorry – I’m sorry – it was supposed to be a joke. Stay with me, Sam – please, you gotta stay with me. I didn’t mean it – I didn’t mean it. Sammy...God, please...”
“A joke, huh, Dean?” A familiar, smug voice cut across the hunter’s frantic pleas. “That was a hell of a good one. That’ll slay them in the aisles. Oh, wait – I think it just did.”
Dean looked up at the black-suited angel in disbelief. “How – how did you find me?”
“A little bird told me.” Zachariah smirked before casually waving a hand. “Now, about this joke of yours.”
Sent reeling by the angelic shove, Dean found himself pinned to the wall and struggled futilely against invisible bonds, his frantic gaze on his brother’s unmoving chest.
“I gotta say,” the angel continued, walking around Sam’s tall frame. “Sammy here doesn’t seem to get the punchline. Or did he die laughing?”
“You son of a bitch! Help him!”
Zachariah came to a halt near the younger Winchester’s left hip. “Help him? Now why would I do that, Dean? He’s just excess baggage we don’t need. Sammy’s served his purpose. Past his use-by date, you might say.” The angel’s smirk grew into a feral grin. “We don’t need him any more. We just need you.”
Sick horror flooded the green-eyed hunter’s gut.
“Or we could just give what’s left of him to Lucifer, while the meat’s still fresh. Then you won’t have a reason to keep saying no to Michael, and we can finish this thing.” The angel plucked at his borrowed body. “And I can finally shed this disgusting, smelly shell once and for all.”
“You God-damned son of a bitch!”
“Now, don’t get all bent out of shape. You knew right from the start it had to be this way,” Zachariah cautioned, wagging a finger at the stricken human. “You were just doing your duty, right? Like your daddy told you. Obedient. A good little soldier. You couldn’t save Sammy, so you killed him. Now you can get on with your destiny. Be who you were meant to be. Michael’s vessel. The hero of the apocalypse. Make both fathers proud.”
Dean’s jaw dropped. “No...” he whispered brokenly. Suddenly the force pinning his body fell away and he stumbled forward, feeling as if his heart was being crushed inside his chest.
“Hey, did you hear the one about the guy who started the apocalypse? He got a real buzz out of it in the end.” Zachariah snickered, stirring Sam’s lifeless body with the toe of his shoe. “A real buzz. Get it?”
Dean sank slowly to his knees, his horrified gaze never leaving his brother’s face. “No.....no, no, no...no...”* * * * *
“SAM!” Dean suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, startling the younger man.
“Holy crap!” Sam quickly dropped the washcloth and grasped his brother’s heaving shoulders. “Hey, hey, hey! It’s me, I’m here, I’m right here. It’s okay.”
Dean’s frantic gaze searched his sibling’s face as his hands came up to grasp Sam’s wrists. “S-sam?”
“Yeah.” Licking his lips, the younger hunter felt the tension leave his body. “It’s okay. Must have been one hell of a nightmare, huh? You all right?”
The green-eyed Winchester shuddered, releasing his grip. Glancing away, he cleared his throat before getting shakily to his feet. He staggered to the bathroom without a word, slamming the door behind him.
Sam’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Gathering the bowl and washcloth, he carried them to the counter top and emptied out the water, leaving the items in the sink. He filled a glass with fresh water and placed it on the bedside table before retreating to his own bed to wait for his sibling.
Dean finally emerged from the bathroom, turning off the light before he stepped through the door. Avoiding Sam’s worried gaze, he downed the water in a few gulps and set the empty glass back on the nightstand. He sank onto the bed, grimacing at the feel of damp sheets beneath his thighs.
“You all right, Dean?”
“I’m fine.”
Now who’s lying, Sam wondered bitterly. “You sure? You had a fever, and you couldn’t wake up. Doesn’t sound all that fine to me.”
“I said I’m fine,” Dean growled hoarsely. Seeing his brother flinch back as if struck, he felt a stab of guilt go through his gut. “I’m fine,” he repeated, softening his tone. “Just – reliving old crap, you know? Hell stuff. I’m fine. Really. Go back to bed.”
Sam looked doubtful, but gave a reluctant nod before settling back down.
Dean switched off the bedside lamp and climbed into bed, giving a ragged sigh as he stretched out. He could feel the weight of his brother’s stare in the darkness and grimaced, thankful that Sam no longer pushed for him to talk like he used to do in the old days.
Sometimes he missed those days. “Sammy?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. You know – for the water.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Lying in the darkness, the elder Winchester listened to his brother’s quiet, steady breathing for over an hour before finally succumbing to the dubious lure of slumber.
* * * * *
“Hey, Doc – is he...”
“He’s resting.”
Dean fidgeted, glancing up and down the hospital corridor before meeting the doctor’s concerned gaze. “And?”
“The electrocution triggered a heart attack. Pretty massive, I’m afraid. His heart – it’s damaged.”
A cold hand squeezed Dean’s own heart. “How damaged?”
The medico slowly shook his head; his dark eyes alight with sympathy. “We’ve done all we can. We can try and keep him comfortable at this point. But I’d give him a couple of days at most, maybe a week.”
“No. No, no, no, there’s – there’s gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment.”
“We can’t work miracles. I really am sorry.”
Dean watched in stunned silence as the physician walked away. A week – his brother had a week to live. All because of a stupid joke. Running a hand over his face, the elder Winchester walked slowly down the corridor to a room at the end, pausing for a moment before stepping inside. He nervously licked his lips as he came to a halt at the end of the bed, his worried gaze roaming over his sibling.
Sam glanced up from the tiny television he’d been watching, letting the remote control slide from his hand. “You’re... right,” he croaked breathlessly. “Daytime tv...sucks.”
Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Dean glanced out the window for a brief moment. But like a magnet, his gaze was drawn back to his brother’s pallid face. Sam’s cheeks were sunken, as if death was already claiming what little life remained. Dark circles ringed glassy eyes, dull chestnut hair hung in lank strands around his face and his hand shook as he tried to reclaim the remote.
Bending swiftly, Dean picked up the device and placed it gently between Sam’s icy fingers. “I talked to your doctor.”
Sam blinked slowly in acknowledgement, turning his head back towards the television screen. “Fabric....softener...teddy bear....gotta hunt....”
“Sam.”
The younger man sighed. “It’s...okay.”
Dean felt a wave of anger. “It’s not okay.”
“What...you...wanted.”
“What? What the hell are you saying?”
Sam gazed sadly at his brother. “Free...of me.”
“No. No, that’s not true.”
“You said...I could never....make up....for what...I’ve...done. Never...be...forgiven.”
Shaking his head, Dean felt the sting of tears in his eyes. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I...know....what I...did...unforgive-able. You said...I’d be....monster. My...choice. This...” Sam twitched his fingers. “What...I....deserve.”
“No, it isn’t. Stop talking like that.”
The younger man gave a bitter smile. “You...said...you’d...hunt me. Didn’t...expect...slow death. Thought...be...quick...merciful. Should’ve...known.”
“Known what?”
“Revenge.”
Dean went cold all over. “You think I did this to get back at you for what you did?”
Sam shrugged, coughed, and fought for breath, his free hand tightening convulsively around the edge of the blankets.
Stepping to the head of the bed, Dean snatched the oxygen mask from the wall and positioned it over his brother’s face, twisting the valve with a quick snap of his wrist to get the air flowing. The younger man’s ragged gasping gradually began to ease and he relaxed against the pillows, his eyes sliding closed.
Dean ran a hand over his face. “It wasn’t revenge,” he murmured softly, leaning over his recumbent sibling. “It was just a stupid joke. I wanted to make you jump.”
“Succeeded,” came the muffled reply.
“Sam, I’m sorry.” The elder hunter swallowed hard as he straightened up. “I’m so sorry.”
“Forgive...you.”
Nodding once, Dean cleared his throat and turned towards the door. “I’m uh – gonna go get some coffee. I’ll be right back.”
Sam weakly rolled his head towards the window, and the sunlit world beyond the confines of the hospital room. “Won’t...ask...you to...forgive...me,” he whispered.
Dean hesitated in the doorway, a shiver running down his spine.
“Know...you...can’t...”
The shorter Winchester turned back as the heart monitor’s annoying beep changed to a continuous tone.
“Sam? No, no, no!”
Dean stared in horror at the flat lines scrolling across the screen before switching his gaze to his brother’s still form, and the broken, lost look frozen for eternity on his face.
“SAM!”* * * * *
Dean gasped and jerked awake, hands flailing out in panic. Struggling into a sitting position, he freed himself from the tight cocoon of blankets wrapped around his body before turning towards the second bed, his heart hammering against his ribcage. A familiar coverlet-swathed mound topped by a tousled mop of hair met his frantic gaze and he slumped in relief, reaching up to scrub a shaking hand over his face.
“Just a nightmare,” he whispered raggedly. “Just a nightmare.”
Swinging his legs over the side of the mattress, Dean pressed both feet carefully to the worn carpet. Not trusting his body to hold him up just yet, he settled for resting elbows on knees while he watched the gentle rise and fall of his brother’s ribcage.
It was just a stupid nightmare, he repeated silently to himself. That was all. It hadn’t happened that way at all. The buzzer was a harmless toy. Jesse had believed him. Sam was okay.
Wasn’t he?
Fear sent icy tendrils down Dean’s sweat-soaked back. Clambering ungracefully to his feet, he wobbled for a moment before taking the two short steps to the other bed. He stretched out a trembling hand to grip his brother’s blanket-covered shoulder.
Sam didn’t stir.
Dean’s anxiety ramped up towards full-blown panic. Reaching out to switch on the bedside lamp, he turned back to his sibling and shook the younger man.
“Sam? Sam, wake up. Sam!”
Sam’s head lolled drunkenly on the pillow with the force of Dean’s shaking, but he failed to awaken.
“Sam!” Throwing the covers aside, Dean rolled Sam onto his back and checked his pulse.
No reassuring throb could be detected beneath the cold, waxen skin.
“No, no, no!” The elder Winchester frantically dialled nine-one-one; gave his location and nature of the emergency to the dispatcher and flipped the device closed. Tossing the cell onto the nightstand, he knelt on the edge of Sam’s bed and frantically began compressions. “Don’t you do this – don’t do this! Sam, stay with me!”
After the fifteenth compression, he swiftly wiped away a tiny string of drool trailing from his brother’s mouth and blew two breaths into the younger man’s too-still chest. “Come on, come on!”
Dean heard the mournful wail of a siren rapidly approaching as he began the fourth lot of compressions, and let out a relieved huff. “Come on, Sammy, don’t you give up, don’t give up. Help’s comin’.”
Tyres squealed as the ambulance skidded to a halt outside the room moments later. Leaping across the floor, Dean flung the door open and stepped aside to let the paramedics through. He trailed them to the far bed, nervously running one hand through his hair while they examined his brother.
Almost immediately the EMT’s straightened up, one of them turning towards the agitated hunter while the other slowly pulled the sheet up to cover Sam’s face.
“I’m sorry, buddy, there’s nothing we can do. He must have been dead for a few hours – rigor’s already started to set in.”
Dean stared at his brother’s sheet-draped form in horror. “No...no, no, no...”
“They’ll know more after an autopsy, but I’m guessing cardiac arrest caused by electrocution. There’s some pretty bad burns down the side of his chest. You remember hearing anything – or maybe smelled something burning like insulation?”
“No – no, no, no – no, it can’t – it was a joke...”
The paramedic frowned, throwing a confused look at his partner. “Hey, buddy? Come on, calm down now.”
Dean curled his hands into fists. “It was a joke! Just a stupid joke!”
“Shock,” the elder EMT muttered, moving to flank the distraught Winchester.
“No – no, Sammy, no...” Unable to tear his gaze away from his brother’s lifeless body, Dean sank slowly to the floor, an anguished scream tearing from his throat. “SAAAAAAM!”* * * * *
“Guh!”
Dean flailed frantically, his chest heaving with exertion beneath the sweat-soaked tee shirt as he struggled to untangle himself from the constricting bedclothes. He finally broke free and flung himself from the damp mattress, catching his balance with one hand against the wall as he spun to face the opposite bed.
The mound of blankets stirred, a familiar voice murmuring sleepily. Shaking so hard his teeth clacked together, Dean made his way the short distance to Sam’s bed and dropped onto the edge, startling his sibling into wakefulness.
“Dean? What – what the hell?” Sam knuckled the sleep from his eyes and stared at his wan-faced brother in the cold grey light of dawn. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Is your fever back?”
Dean tried to swallow, but felt his throat close up. Shaking his head in answer to Sam’s query, he dropped his gaze to stare at the floor between his bare feet. He dug his toes into the worn pile and concentrated on slowing his heart rate and respiration, feeling the comforting warmth of Sam’s hip against the small of his back.
“You uh – lost the bathroom again?” Sam ventured hesitantly.
The elder hunter straightened up, shaking his head once more.
“Uh, all right. Um – you want some coffee?”
Dean nodded. Making no move to get off the bed, he watched his brother slide out from under the blankets on the opposite side and grab the clothes he’d discarded the night before.
Quickly moving to the bathroom, the taller hunter relieved himself, washed his hands and face and got dressed, returning to the main room to tug on his socks and sneakers. “There’s a coffee shop just down the street. I’ll go see if they’re open.”
Nodding again, Dean remained silent while Sam checked his wallet.
“Hey, you got a spare twenty? I’ll get us some breakfast to go with the coffee.”
“Pants pocket.”
Reaching for his brother’s jeans lying over the back of a chair, Sam slid one hand into the pocket. Something deep inside let out a faint buzz and he jumped in shock, whipping his arm back and dropping the pants as if they had suddenly turned red-hot. Spinning around, he gave Dean a look that the elder man couldn’t quite decipher before he hurried from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Dean sat stunned for a few seconds, listening to the rapidly fading thud of Sam’s sneakers against the concrete surface of the parking lot. Finally he got to his feet and walked over to retrieve the offending jeans, turning the garment upside down before giving it a good shake. A small, round silver object bounced onto the floor, vibrating once before rolling partway under the table.
That damned joy buzzer.
The elder Winchester groaned aloud. No wonder his little brother had stormed off. He recognised the look Sam had given him now. God knew he’d seen it countless times in his nightmares.
Hurt. Betrayal.
“Ah, crap.”
He had to fix this. For both their sakes.
Swiftly getting dressed, he scooped the offending item off the floor and went after his sibling.
* * * * *
He found his brother about a mile from the motel. Sam was sitting on a low stone wall bordering a meandering stream, staring at the water as the sun rose over the crest of a nearby hill.
Running a hand across his jaw as he crossed the street, Dean glanced at his sibling, noticing the tremors running through the wide-shouldered frame. He settled on the wall beside the younger man and looked out over the town, carefully gathering his thoughts.
After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”
Sam drew in a shuddering breath. “You could have killed me,” he whispered raggedly.
The elder hunter winced at the harsh croak. It sounded exactly like the dying Sam of his nightmares.
“Why, Dean? Just – just tell me why.”
Dean sighed heavily, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “It was – I don’t know, a spur of the moment thing, you know? Just a stupid prank.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew that thing killed that guy.”
Glancing sideways, Dean noted his brother’s pallid face. “I figured out Jesse was our culprit as soon as I saw the drawing. I thought you’d put it together as well once I started asking him about the Pop Rocks and the itching powder. Once I told him the buzzer was harmless, he believed it.”
A shudder ran through Sam’s frame. “You were willing to risk my life to test a theory. This time you were right. What happens next time? What if next time you’re wrong?”
Dean jolted in shock, twisting to face his brother. “Next time? What the hell are you saying – that I’m gonna throw you in the path of danger on every hunt to see whether I’m right or wrong? That I think you’re expendable?”
Sam shrugged, unwilling to meet his sibling’s eyes. “Aren’t I?”
“I don’t believe this! And you’re supposed to be the smart one.”
“Well, what the hell else am I supposed to think, Dean?” The younger man shot to his feet, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he glared at his brother. “What if Jesse hadn’t believed you? What if you’d been wrong?”
“What the hell do you think I’ve been freakin’ dreaming about all freakin’ night!” the elder Winchester shot back, his eyes wide. “I watched you die over and over again! All because of a stupid, freakin’ kid’s toy!”
Springing away from the wall, Dean pulled the buzzer from his pocket and threw it to the ground. He raised his boot and slammed the sturdy heel down onto the joy buzzer again and again, smashing the thing to smithereens. Finally he stood back, his chest heaving, and met his brother’s stunned gaze.
Sam swallowed nervously, glancing from Dean’s flushed face to the shattered remains of the toy. “You done?”
Dean looked down, grimly tightening his jaw. “Not yet.”
The hazel-eyed hunter sank back onto the wall and bit his lip.
Bending down, Dean gathered the broken pieces, then walked over to his sibling. He poured the detritus into Sam’s hand and gestured towards the stream. “Toss that son of a bitch.”
Sam complied, flinging out his hand. The fragments twinkled briefly in the morning sun before falling into the water with a series of soft plinks. Sam watched the stream carry the pieces away, his thoughts in turmoil.
Dean sighed heavily. Dusting his hands against his jeans, he settled on the wall next to Sam. “Sam, look at me.”
The younger hunter shook his head.
“Please.”
Reluctantly, hazel eyes rose to meet green.
“You’re not, and never were, expendable. Not to me.”
Looking into his sibling’s eyes, Sam read the truth in their depths. He nodded; the feelings of betrayal and hurt over the whole buzzer incident slowly beginning to fade. Things weren’t great between him and his brother, not by a long shot. But at least he felt a little more hope for their future than he had the day before.
Dean pursed his lips. “Come on, you promised me coffee.”
Sam got to his feet and started walking towards the coffee shop. A tiny flash caught his eye and he looked down, stooping to pick up a small piece of the buzzer’s casing which had eluded Dean’s sweep. Straightening up, he stared at it for a long moment before handing it to his brother.
The elder man drew back his arm and lobbed the fragment high into the air. Not bothering to see where it landed, he turned back to look into his sibling’s eyes. “Let’s go get that coffee.”
A faint smile tugged at Sam’s expressive mouth. Falling into step beside his brother, he easily kept pace with the shorter hunter as they strode back towards town.
Dean suddenly flashed a wicked grin and nudged Sam with his elbow. “Hey, I just remembered. I’ve still got that whoopee cushion. Maybe I should give Cas a call, huh?”
“Dude, you really do have the sense of humour of a nine-year-old.”
“What?”
End.Catch you next time - might be a wee bit of a break. There's nothing in the bank again, but a wet weekend's coming up so I might get a little writing time in - fingers crossed, eh?
Jules 
I always had a problem with that particular scene, thinking it was sloppy writing and totally out of character for Dean to do that to his little brother, even if he was 100% sure of his hunch. Your story made it explainable though. You totally got across that in hindsight Dean would regret his action, realising how hurt his brother was, and totally got inside his head with the nightmares giving him various scenarios of his little brother dying from the prank - rather like Sam had in his reality in Mystery Spot. Loved how you also brought Zachariah (the p*ick) and Castiel 
into his nightmares too, their reactions compounding Dean’s guilt. Also loved the scene in the hospital, so like the situation Sam found himself with Dean in Faith and also Sam dying when Dean was about to go and get coffee, again a parallel to Sam finding their dad dead in In My Time Of Dying.
