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Far Away
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Morning came swiftly as Sam slowly began to wake up. He shuffled in his bed and stretched, arching his back up as he did so and rolling his shoulders. Opening his bleary eyes, he blinked a couple of times and looked around the lightened room. His gaze almost immediately fell on his brother’s empty bed; the covers had been thrown off hastily and lay in a tangled heap around the bottom.
“Dean?” He called out, a lump forming in his throat as he thought about his brother’s current condition.
When there was no reply he pulled himself up from his bed and glanced around the room one more time, taking in every tiny detail, ears straining for noises. That was when he heard the faint sound of rushing water and relief washed over him as he walked over to the bathroom door to listen more closely. Water was running; the shower was on which meant he’d very nearly over reacted. He was just so Goddamn worried.
With an exhausted sigh, Sam moved back over to his bed and sat on the edge, elbows resting on his knees and head in his hands, “What are we gonna do?”
Didn’t matter how fan they ran, how well they hid, the supernatural just kept coming after them. Sure, probably didn’t help that they killed every paranormal bastard that they could aim their guns at or chant a ritual at but still, surely someone out there could cut them a break? But wallowing wasn’t going to do much good.
He raised his head and found his eyes drawn towards the nightstand. Curiosity wept through him as he spotted the silver lighter that he was pretty damn positive hadn’t been there the previous night.
“Dean…” He breathed, “What the hell are you playing at?”
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The shower was cool and relaxing, easing tensed muscles and washing away fears from dreams that he really wanted to forget. He needed the downfall of pounding water, it was an escape if only for awhile and had the complete opposite effects that fire had. Water - the enemy of fire, friend to the burned. And even though he hadn’t burned, he’d felt the pain and the heat and that made water his friend.
Leaning his head against the wall he looked down at his abdomen and noticed for the first time since the burning that he had a thin white scar running across his skin. If it hadn’t been for the fire the wound would have been worse, he knew that. The wound should have killed him but the determined fire that had just refused to burn him had distracted the demon. And now the wound looked like it had barely ever been there… the wonders of supernatural injuries.
“Should be dead…” Dean closed his eyes and turned his face up into the stream of water, “Should have died a long time ago.”
He ran his hands through his soaking wet hair and down to his neck, where they rested for a moment as he worked out the kinks from his tired muscles and worn bones.
“Dean?” Through the haze of thoughts, he heard his name being called. Sam was worried about him, he had a right to be but Dean just wanted some peace, some time to himself that didn’t include a mother-henning younger brother and freaky dark dreams with a fire woman and the demon.
So he didn’t answer, couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice above a whisper. Sam would figure it out that he was in the shower, he didn’t need to tell him. He just wanted to be alone for a few minutes longer.
It wasn’t until he thought about keeping some warm water for Sam that he decided to shut off the shower and climb out to dry down and get dressed. He wiped away the fog on the mirror and stared into his reflection, questioning it, questioning himself. Tired eyes held no answers and so he sighed and opened the bathroom door.
Almost immediately Sam looked up at him, “You look better.”
“Liar.” Dean grumbled, “But I do feel it.”
“You do?” Sam asked, but in that tone that implied it was a trick question.
Trick questions needed trick answers, or just avoiding ones, “You know I could really use a coffee.”
“Dean… you’re hiding something.” Sam jumped in.
“And what makes you think that?”
Sam opened his mouth and closed it almost immediately after, trying to keep his eyes off the lighter on the nightstand, “I’m just worried.”
You’d be even more worried if I told you about my dream. Dean thought, grabbing his coat from the back of one of the chairs.
“Woah, where are you going?” Sam asked, instantly standing up and taking a step toward his brother.
“Told you. I want coffee.” Dean eyed Sam whilst he pulled his coat on, “Besides, I’m not the only one hiding things. You’ve either found something or you were told but you know something.”
Sam froze, mind reeling with memories of what the Demon had said, “What are you talking about?”
“You… I can tell with you. All this worry, you’re bad but there’s no reason for you to be this bad. Something’s got you really worried…”
“Oh, you mean besides the Demon now being interested in you as a prize and the fact that you can’t burn and you’re ill, in fact I bet you’re still running a fever, and you’ve been having nightmares. Yeah… can imagine how I wouldn’t be worried about that.”
Dean looked away from Sam’s face, immediately feeling guilty for his paranoia. It wasn’t fair, jumping down Sam’s throat, taking his anger out on Sam… he didn’t want to do it, just found he couldn’t control it. He’d been thinking about Sam’s behaviour and was so positive that his younger brother was hiding something, but now… now he just felt bad for accusing him of such a thing.
“Sam…” He started, fingers winding their way around the Impala’s keys in his pocket.
“I know.” Sam sighed, throwing a forgiving but still heated look at his brother, “Bring me back something strong.”
Dean smiled sadly and nodded, slipping quietly from the room. He breathed in the fresh warm air from the outside and brought his hands up to his face, quickly scrubbing it. Water gently dripped from his still wet hair but he didn’t care, he just needed to be out. Claustrophobia, paranoia… he was losing it. Spiralling. In his mind he could the distance growing between him and Sam because of the anger and hidden truths. He hated it.
“Damn it.” He swore, moving from his comfortable position outside the motel door to a more comfortable position inside his precious black baby, “What the hell am I doing?”
His eyes lifted up to the roof of the Impala and as he turned the key to start the engine he called out, angry, frustrated, “What the hell have I done? You must be laughing your head off at the game you’re playing but I’ll tell you one thing – I sure as hell don’t think it’s funny.”
The engine roared, echoing Dean’s fuming rumble, “Angels my ass!”
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Last time Dean went for provisions by himself he’d ended up kidnapped by a demon groupie… Sam just hoped that there was no chance of that happening ever again. He stretched once more before taking a seat at the table and pulling his laptop towards him. At the touch of a button, the thing was powering up and Sam tapped his fingers against the surface of the table as he waited.
What could have been passed off as an irritated and impatient trademark was just Sam’s way of thinking. Fingers tap tap tapping whilst his eyes stared off into the distance and the laptop booted up. He went over that night again and again but turned up with nothing new. And he went over the past few weeks again and again but still turned up with nothing.
Was this thing recent? Like Sam’s whole precog deal? Or had it always been there, lying dormant? Same could have been said about Sam’s ability, dormant like a sleeping beast waiting to be woken. Far too many questions and not enough places to find answers.
Was there a second demon? It’s not like there weren’t plenty out there but surely it would be uncommon for two completely separate demons to target the same family? Was it genetic? Did ‘freak’ run in the family?
Sam groaned and wiped a hand across his forehead, stopping just above his left eye, rubbing gently to relieve built up tension, “Maybe Dad pissed someone off and got us cursed… maybe Dean pissed someone off and got himself cursed.”
But what type of curse would stop you from burning?
“It hurts him though…” Sam whispered to himself, “Fire still hurts him… maybe its revenge… Or maybe it’s a good thing.”
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