[Prudery]

Hope you guys like it. Please don't bash like the last one. Warning: Mild language.

"Sammy, can you hear me?" The frantic tone was heard as if it was through water, murky and hard to understand. He didn't bother to open his eyes as he felt himself being pulled out form underneath the fallen barn door. What had caused it to fall? He couldn't remember anything. The only thing that he was sure of was that he was in pain, and lots of it. The cold ground pressed itself against his back as Dean laid him down. Quick and gentle hands pulled at his shirt, letting in the frigid air.

"How bad is he?" Bobbys voice asked somewhere far away.

"Nothing deep, but at least half the skin's been torn off." A blanket was pulled around him. He felt an arm slide under his legs and shoulders, the ground pulling away from him. Sam pulled his head into Deans chest, feeling like a little kid as he relaxed in his arms. Pride was the farthest thing from his mind as Dean slid into the back seat with him. Words were becoming even harder to discern as the car started. His head slid to the side as the car tuned sharply. New blood ran down the side of his face. Dean shifted him so he was deeper in his arms. "You're gonna be okay Sammy, we'll take care of ya." If the circumstances had been different, Dean would have earned a nice welt on his shin. But it was different right now, and Sam held onto the words tightly.

Deans arms held him still as the car twisted back up the highway back to the city. Sam passed in between reality and illusions freely, neither feeling better than the other. He wasn't sure how much time had passed as the car slowed and stopped completely. He bit his tongue as a groan rose up in his throat. Dean pulled him out of the car and shifted him against his chest. Had he always been this strong? Sam didn't remember him being able to just pick him up like this. He heard Bobby say something about blood loss as the door was slammed behind them. Dean laid him down on a bed. The two tense voices moved back and forth from him to some other part of the room. Bags zipped open and shut and bottles thunked against the table next to him.

Soon someone was cutting his shirt off. He guessed it was Dean, Bobby wouldn't be so gentle. Alcohol felt like acid as it touched the raw and bleeding skin. He gasped and clamped his mouth shut. He heard Dean mumble an apology as the sting traveled down his torso, leaving a trail of pain wherever it went. His mind became even more confused as he felt more and more blood seep out of his body. Someone rolled him over onto his stomach, smashing his bruised head onto the pillow. The cuts must've been deeper on his back, because the alcohol burned as if someone was cutting him open. His teeth clamped down on the fabric in front of him as someone pressed harder on his back. "This might hurt a little Sammy." The words barely sunk in as excrushiating pain blasted through his torso. The pain became too much. Consciousness faded out of him, ending it all.

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Sam grasped the sheets that were pulled up to his chin and yanked them off. Sweat made the fabric stick to his clammy body. He choked in air as he stared up at the blank ceiling. How long were these dreams going to haunt him? Was four months after the transformation too short a time to get rid of them? He could still see the faces in front of him. They taunted and laughed at his fear. Their words hit hard, tearing apart every defense he had ever put up around his heart. Past and present pain was thrown in his face. The time his dad died. The time he saw his mother get killed. The time Dean was killed by hellhounds and he went to hell. The time the two people he trusted the most locked him in the demon panic room to go through everything alone...

Tears slid down his face regardless of the fact that he was mentally beating himself for letting them get through. The faces laughed. The malicious sound sent chills up his spine. More and more memories swarmed in front of his eyes. The past was here to haunt him, and it was doing it well. Not even Dean was here now.

He was alone. He was scared. And the ghosts of the past were here to destroy him.

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What happened? Sam thought. Just a second ago he had been alone, about to fade away into panic and despair. Now someone was rocking him back and forth and saying something near his ear. He shoved as many thoughts as he could away and listened to the voice. No words were distinct, but he knew Deans voice automatically. They were skin on skin from the torso up, aside from the many bandages that covered Sams body. His ragged breathing moved Deans arm up and down. Sam became aware that as he was panting he was nearly yelling about the things he had been seeing. Dean put a hand over Sams mouth, quieting his panicking tone.

" 'S okay Sammy. None of that is going to happen again." He whimpered quietly. Never had he felt so terrified of what he had gone through before. Never had he wanted Dean to hold him tighter either. Never had the memories made him want to shove a knife in his gut before. A cool hand trailed itself down his face. He froze at the touch, his body stiffening completely. Dean carefully moved his head farther up on his chest, still talking quietly. "You can relax Sam, nobody's gonna hurt you while I'm here." His muscles remained clenched in knots throughout his body. Dean rubbed his neck muscles with one hand. The other holding him tightly as his body shook.

"Gotta leave." He mumbled.

"Where?" Dean rubbed a little harder.

"Away."

"Where away?"

"Gone." His hand ran down to his collar bone, nearly bruising it from the amount of force he was using.

"You mean, dead?"

"No other way to get away from this." Dean sighed shakily.

"You can't do that Sam." He paused. "Who else would be here to annoy the crap out of me?" The joke didn't get a response. "Sam, there's gotta be a different solution than death." Sam stared at the ceiling, not moving aside from the tremors of his muscles.

"I can't do this anymore Dean. I just can't." His voice shook, his fear and anxiety plain. Dean sucked in an uneasy breath.

"Everything just looks bad at night Sammy. Everything is going to be fine."

"No it won't be Dean! If that were true, I wouldn't be scared out of my mind right now. I wouldn't have been for the past four months either. I just..." He buried his head in the pillow next to Deans shoulder. "Can't, take it anymore." He felt Dean pull him up to a sitting position abruptly. He got up and tossed Sam a shirt.

"Get dressed." The tone was low. He meant it. Sam watched him as he went around the room putting everything back in the bags, keeping out a few clothing items. He looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "Get dressed." He said. More authority was behind his tone. Sam slowly moved the shirt across his knees. Dean walked quickly to him and yanked it on over his head. He let Dean help him into a pair of jeans. Dean shoved his shoes into his hands and picked up the two bags. "Come on." Sam followed him silently as Dean walked out into the cold air to the Impala. Dean didn't look at him as they got in the car and drove twenty minutes out ot the edge of town. He turned off the highway out to a park, a nice sunrise viewing lot was at the end of it. Sam sat still and quiet for a time, the memories not as prominent in his head as they had been before. Dean stayed frozen in his seat, not showing any emotion or sign of speaking. The temperature dropped as the time passed slowly. Not one word was said, not one movement was made. Sam shifted, his legs were growing numb from not moving. He looked at Dean, whose face gave little to what he was thinking. He settled back, not wishing to break the silence.

A slight glow grew on the horizon, heralding the suns arrival. Dean jerked himself out of the car without warning. He motioned for Sam to follow him. He watched Dean lean against the front end of the car, his gaze to the sun. Sam stood a few feet away from him, not sure of what was going on or what the point was. Dean jerked his head at the sun. "You see that?" Sam looked.

"Mmmhmm." He turned and pointed at the mountains that were a little ways from the sun.

"You see those mountains?"

"Yeah." He turned and pulled a stack of photos out of his jacket. He laid them all out on the car. They varied. Some were of Sam and his dad, others contained the different women he had loved and cared for.
Several were of the soccer games he had played a long time ago. They all had something to say about his past, whether it be good or bad. Sams eyes wandered over each one of them, remembering and hearing the voices of people he had known in the past. His eyes wandered and stopped on a picture of Dean and him when they were little. Deans arms were thrown around Sams neck, while he had his around Deans waist. They were laughing. He ran his finger over it gently, still hearing Deans laugh.

"You see these pictures?" Sam looked at him. Deans expression was soft and caring. Sam looked back down at the photos, not wanting him to see that tears were starting to run down his face. He swallowed and turned back to face Dean. Without looking at Sam, he pulled his knife out of his jacket and twirled it in his hands a minute. He held it out to Sam, a harder look on his face. "Do what you wanted to do." Sam stared at him without speaking. Dean extended it closer to him. "You said death was the only way out. End it." They stood there for minutes, neither one of them speaking. Dean didn't put the knife away, and Sam didn't take it.

Dean reached forward and shoved it into his hand, positioning it so it pointed right at Sams chest. "One thrust and it's done. You said you were done with life, then finish it." He stared at Dean in fear and panic, but remained frozen. He looked away from him, unable to hold the gaze. His knees gave out beneath him, the result of exhaustion and fear. Dean caught him gently and picked him up, carrying him back to the car. He buried his face in Deans chest, shuddering sobs escaping his throat. He didn't notice that Dean had sat down in the car and was rocking him gently as he cried. He clung to his neck like a child, not caring in the least that he was a grown man that fought for the world. All that mattered was that Dean had him, and nothing bad was ever going to happen if he was there.


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Sam pulled a blanket up over his cold shoulders and buried his face deeper into the pillow. He opened one eye and looked around. He was back in the motel room, undressed and in bed. He pulled one arm under himself and stopped as he tried to move the other. A hand tightened on his wrist. He swerved his head around and looked at who was behind him. Dean lay half asleep next to him, gripping Sams wrist as though he would disappear if he let go. He rolled closer and adjusted his hold. Sam pulled Deans fingers loose and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He heard Dean yawn and groan as he stretched. "Mornin' Sammy." He looked over at the clock before he picked up a flannel shirt.

"It's noon." Dean rocked himself forward to sit up.

"Is it?" He rubbed his face. "Mmmmph, lunch time." Dean stood, stretching his head backwards and popping his back. Sam rubbed his face and walked to the window. He stared out at the bleak looking small town outside. Clouds shadowed the suns light, creating an eerie effect on the world. He heard Dean shut the bathroom door. "What're you thinkin' about?" Hius voice echoed through the door. Sam grabbed his belt off the table and threaded it through his jeans.

"Nothin'."

"bullpooop." Was the flat response. Sam bit his lip as he hard Dean flush and open the door. "I don't even have to look at you to know when you're getting moody." Sam shook his head like he wasn't making sense.

"I'm not moody."

"I want you to look in a mirror and say that again." He reached for his shoes at the end of the bed, ignoring Dean. "C'mon, you look like you're suckin' on a lemon. What's wrong?" Sam didn't look up at him. He pulled the laces tighter. He could feel Dean staring at him.

"Get dressed. We'll get some lunch. Diner down the street sound good?" He squirmed under Deans view, which didn't move an inch away from him. He sighed and pulled on his other shoe. "Why did you do that this morning?"

" 'Cause you were getting suicidal." He relaxed as Dean moved away from him, gathering his own clothes. He watched him out of the corner of his eye as Dean yanked on a t-shirt and picked his belt. "You really think I'd let you sit there and feel sorry for yourself?"

"I would've been fine."

"Bullshit. You get to that point Sammy, you don't come back. You've read all the suicide articles I have, you know, that when you get lost, you never, ever see the light of day again. I'm not gonna sit back and watch you rot in front of me. The only way you're going out is if I can't save you." Sam swallowed hard as Dean made him look him in the eye. "And I'm always gonna save you. Don't ever forget that." Sam looked down, nodding a little. Dean watched him a minute and backed off. "Where's that diner you were talking about?" Sam cleared his throat, shaking off the emotion that clouded him.

"Just a block down the street. You can see it from the window." Dean shrugged on his jacket.

"You up for eating out or you wanna stay here?" Sam stood up and took his hoodie from Dean.

"I can go." Dean tossed his keys up in the air and caught them behind his back. Sam punched him in the arm. "Showoff."

"You're just jealous 'cause you can't do it." Sam raised an eyebrow. Dean tossed him the keys. "Do it." Sam tossed them behind his back. He let them fall past his hand until they hit his shoe. He kicked them back into his hand. Dean scowled. "Damn soccer players." Sam laughed and handed him the keys.

"Hey, you could've played."

"Oh, and sprain my ankle twice like you did? Dream on."

"Jerk." Dean shut the door behind them.

"Biatch."

End.

[Malus Rune]

Well, I don't know much about Supernatural- actually, scratch that, I know nothing about Supernatural- but there's good writing in that. The atmosphere and diologue are done well. That said, there were a few lines which sounded a bit awkward to me; not many, but they were there. What might be a good idea is reading it aloud, recording it, and playing it back; see what sticks out, "smooth down the barbs" so to speak.

But overall, a well-achieved and well written first draft. So good work.

Edit: Just noticed the topic date. Wow, I feel silly, bumping an old thread just for that

This post has been edited by Malus Rune: 12 July 2009 - 06:38 PM

[Prudery]

XD Don't. I really appreciate the crit.

Can you give me an example of one of the lines you thought was off? I thought there were a few too, but I always doubt everything I write so I can't really be a god judge of it.

Thanks for reading, I'm glad you liked it.

[Malus Rune]

One example was the "Sun's arrival", I found that to be a bit of a weird choice of words. It sorta sounds a bit...shall we say...over-written, if the intent was personification it doesn't really add much to the description and it's certainly less image-painting then just the classic descriptions of rising, and stuff like that.

Then there was the new line between "Women he had loved and cared for" and "Some where soccer games...", that seemed to be a bit out of place.


Oh, and one other thing- there are quite a lot of missed apostrophies. I see a fair few "Deans" and "Sams", which should be "Dean's" and "Sam's".

This post has been edited by Malus Rune: 15 July 2009 - 05:04 PM

[Prudery]

Ohhhh, okay. I thought the wording was weird there. Got a little nutso in the head.

Those I can't do anything about. I literally spent four hours in front of the computer trying to figure them out and that was the best I could do.

Gahhhh, knew they looked odd. Thanks, I always get them confused.