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Talking You Down (and Back Up Again)
4.19 needed more, and you all know it!
Title: Talking You Down (and Back Up Again)
Author: Blu (BluAlbino)
Characters/Pairing(s): (Gen) Sam, Dean
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for 4.19
Summary: Sam's losing blood, and consciousness. Dean keeps him awake.
Disclaimer: Not mine…
The thing about having your wrists slit was, after the first twenty minutes of unbearable, burning pain, everything starts to go numb and foggy. Sam forearms still ached, deep in the bone, but the dizziness was a bit more worrying at the time.
"Dean," Sam said, leaning against the passenger side door, trying to hold the cloths tight over his cuts, but his hands felt too light, like they were made of paper and crumbling under the liquid assault.
"Hold on, Sammy," Dean said, pressing the car as fast as he could. One of them, Sam couldn't remember who's responsibility it had been, had left the med kit back at the motel, and Dean couldn't stitch Sam up without any thread, and they were driving really fast, fast enough to make Sam feel weightless and empty and floaty. "Stay with me, Sam."
"Where'm I goin'?" Sam asked, annoyed.
"You're goin' off, man," Dean replied, eyes never coming off the road, tone low and soothing.
"I'm not." Sam tried to sit forward, but it proved a bit too much. He slumped back in the seat.
"Take it easy, Sam," Dean said, voice shooting halfway into 'worried as fuck' but staying firmly grounded in 'soothing and non-threatening'. "You lost a lot of blood." Not much to argue with there. Sam closed his eyes.
"Dean, keep talkin'. Don' wanna fall asleep."
"What should I talk about?"
"Dunno," Sam said, feeling the creases in his forehead form. "What you were doing before you got there?" He doesn't have to look to tell that Dean just gave him the patented 'pissed older brother' look.
"One of those things buried me alive in a tomb." That was the end of that conversation.
"What about..." Sam wouldn't even try this if he wasn't grievously injured, and thus safe from the wrath of Dean, "mom?" He could practically hear Dean clenching his jaw.
"What about mom?" Dean asked a second too late to sound natural, voice strained.
"Anything."
There was a long pause before Dean finally said; "she loved to sing."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Always singing these weird old country songs that dad and I couldn't stand, but she had a good voice." He paused. "One time, dad got her to sing Kansas." Dean said reluctantly.
"What song?" Sam croaked.
"Carry on wayward son." And that was the end of that conversation, because they were at the hotel.
___
After they gave Adam his Winchester funeral, the next day, because Sam had lost a bit too much blood to dig a body out of a tomb through a broken skylight, Dean told Sam that he was just like John.
Sam hummed Kansas in the car on the way home, just to remind Dean that he's not.
~FIN
Title: Talking You Down (and Back Up Again)
Author: Blu (BluAlbino)
Characters/Pairing(s): (Gen) Sam, Dean
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for 4.19
Summary: Sam's losing blood, and consciousness. Dean keeps him awake.
Disclaimer: Not mine…
The thing about having your wrists slit was, after the first twenty minutes of unbearable, burning pain, everything starts to go numb and foggy. Sam forearms still ached, deep in the bone, but the dizziness was a bit more worrying at the time.
"Dean," Sam said, leaning against the passenger side door, trying to hold the cloths tight over his cuts, but his hands felt too light, like they were made of paper and crumbling under the liquid assault.
"Hold on, Sammy," Dean said, pressing the car as fast as he could. One of them, Sam couldn't remember who's responsibility it had been, had left the med kit back at the motel, and Dean couldn't stitch Sam up without any thread, and they were driving really fast, fast enough to make Sam feel weightless and empty and floaty. "Stay with me, Sam."
"Where'm I goin'?" Sam asked, annoyed.
"You're goin' off, man," Dean replied, eyes never coming off the road, tone low and soothing.
"I'm not." Sam tried to sit forward, but it proved a bit too much. He slumped back in the seat.
"Take it easy, Sam," Dean said, voice shooting halfway into 'worried as fuck' but staying firmly grounded in 'soothing and non-threatening'. "You lost a lot of blood." Not much to argue with there. Sam closed his eyes.
"Dean, keep talkin'. Don' wanna fall asleep."
"What should I talk about?"
"Dunno," Sam said, feeling the creases in his forehead form. "What you were doing before you got there?" He doesn't have to look to tell that Dean just gave him the patented 'pissed older brother' look.
"One of those things buried me alive in a tomb." That was the end of that conversation.
"What about..." Sam wouldn't even try this if he wasn't grievously injured, and thus safe from the wrath of Dean, "mom?" He could practically hear Dean clenching his jaw.
"What about mom?" Dean asked a second too late to sound natural, voice strained.
"Anything."
There was a long pause before Dean finally said; "she loved to sing."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Always singing these weird old country songs that dad and I couldn't stand, but she had a good voice." He paused. "One time, dad got her to sing Kansas." Dean said reluctantly.
"What song?" Sam croaked.
"Carry on wayward son." And that was the end of that conversation, because they were at the hotel.
___
After they gave Adam his Winchester funeral, the next day, because Sam had lost a bit too much blood to dig a body out of a tomb through a broken skylight, Dean told Sam that he was just like John.
Sam hummed Kansas in the car on the way home, just to remind Dean that he's not.
~FIN