trial by fire
Jun 19, 2013 21:41:42 GMT -5
Post by klada on Jun 19, 2013 21:41:42 GMT -5
He can't breathe.
At least, he can't until he chokes up another spot of blood into his hands, and Sam meticulously washes away the evidence so that Mary and Dean won't have anything to look at. Dean knows, of course, but Sam refuses to let his family carry him. He is not a burden to be carried like a cross on the backs of his brother anymore. He's not weak, he can take care of himself and once the trials were over and hell was sealed off he would be fine.
At least, he hoped he would be fine.
But there was only so long that Sam could go before they figured out that he'd been lying to them and neither of them were going to be pleased.
For the moment, Sam didn't have to hide it anymore. They had gone out. Mary was getting groceries, Dean was chasing another lead, and Sam had opted to stick around the bunker. Left alone to hack up his lungs over the kitchen sink. It's almost like he has the childhood flu all over again. His bones ache, and he can't shoot a target on the shooting range, let alone an angry monster that would be foaming at the mouth to kill one of the Winchester boys. Of course, he hasn't told anyone that yet. Hopefully they haven't noticed that he can't hold himself up for very long without shaking, or stumbling, or something of that nature.
Sam shifted his weight against the kitchen sink, moving his arms away from the sides of it but in the process he separated himself from the only thing besides his legs that had been holding up his body weight. Just like Dean, he is tired of holding up his own body weight, even if he has a stubborn attitude to keep fighting these forces that he can't even see. Except now its not a force that's going to rip apart his brother, it's a virus that has slipped into his blood system and he cannot figure out how it happened.
He knows how it feels to have the ground slip out from underneath him though.
Sam reached out a hand to grab for the sink, to prop himself up. But the world (or, mainly the bunker) is getting slimmer in his field of vision and Sam falls anyway despite his best efforts to stop it.
Sam wakes up when he hears the door open, but he's still a pile of limbs on the floor. It was all too fast to figure out if he has simply fallen, or actually fell unconscious for a couple of minutes. Truthfully, its probably the second one, since he doesn't actually remember hitting the ground.
But he's fine. He's really fine.
At least, he can't until he chokes up another spot of blood into his hands, and Sam meticulously washes away the evidence so that Mary and Dean won't have anything to look at. Dean knows, of course, but Sam refuses to let his family carry him. He is not a burden to be carried like a cross on the backs of his brother anymore. He's not weak, he can take care of himself and once the trials were over and hell was sealed off he would be fine.
At least, he hoped he would be fine.
But there was only so long that Sam could go before they figured out that he'd been lying to them and neither of them were going to be pleased.
For the moment, Sam didn't have to hide it anymore. They had gone out. Mary was getting groceries, Dean was chasing another lead, and Sam had opted to stick around the bunker. Left alone to hack up his lungs over the kitchen sink. It's almost like he has the childhood flu all over again. His bones ache, and he can't shoot a target on the shooting range, let alone an angry monster that would be foaming at the mouth to kill one of the Winchester boys. Of course, he hasn't told anyone that yet. Hopefully they haven't noticed that he can't hold himself up for very long without shaking, or stumbling, or something of that nature.
Sam shifted his weight against the kitchen sink, moving his arms away from the sides of it but in the process he separated himself from the only thing besides his legs that had been holding up his body weight. Just like Dean, he is tired of holding up his own body weight, even if he has a stubborn attitude to keep fighting these forces that he can't even see. Except now its not a force that's going to rip apart his brother, it's a virus that has slipped into his blood system and he cannot figure out how it happened.
He knows how it feels to have the ground slip out from underneath him though.
Sam reached out a hand to grab for the sink, to prop himself up. But the world (or, mainly the bunker) is getting slimmer in his field of vision and Sam falls anyway despite his best efforts to stop it.
Sam wakes up when he hears the door open, but he's still a pile of limbs on the floor. It was all too fast to figure out if he has simply fallen, or actually fell unconscious for a couple of minutes. Truthfully, its probably the second one, since he doesn't actually remember hitting the ground.
But he's fine. He's really fine.