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Title: Sam and Dean's Ghostly Adventures
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13?
Words: 705
Warnings and tags:Show level violence/hurt, casefic sort of, crack, unbetaed, poor research on my part
Summary: Sam fights ghosts to save Dean
"Dean!" Sam screamed as the ghost slammed his brother against the wall.
"Behind you!" Dean called, a flash of bloody teeth. Sam ducked and rolled out of the way, just missing the killing touch of another ghost. Fuck, fuck. There were now two on him, three. A pac.
Sam dashed through the dark house's angled corridors, frantically searching. They stepped right into it, no investigation, no EMF reader - the second they were inside the house, they wre running for their lives.
The entire house was thrumming with sirens, Sam couldn't say whether they were intended to warn them or against them. All he could see was Dean's face, Dean being erased from existence, done.
Nothing worked against these ghosts. As Sam ran - a flicker of memory, maybe something Dad said when they were kids, said to Dean - - the ghosts are tied to orbs. Nothing would work, no salt, no iron - nothing unless he managed to find the orb.
Behind him he could hea r furniture crashing, the thud of a body - hitting the floor, flesh, reverberating through Sam's legs. Knee against the floor, then the body. Sam wished, not for the first time he'd never gotten clean. Not if the price was losing Dean again. Not again. Couldn't live through that again, not again. Wouldn't get a dog next time, wouldn't ever stop.
He put the bitterness into running, the desperation. He was a tiny bit faster than the ghosts, and that margin was the only hope he and Dean had. Sam took a sharp turn at a run - to find himself in a small passage - and from its other side, was approaching a ghost. There was nowhere to run, nothing left.
Then Sam realized, between him and the other side of the passage, there it was - a glowing round orb. If only he could reach it before the ghosts touched him, he could buy them some time. Could buy Dean some time to run outside - but Dean wouldn't, not unless Sam was there to make him.
Sam flung himself at the orb and crashed into the approaching ghost midair. The orb was gone. In a moment suspended in time, world took a breath, and the ghost exploded and shriveled into nothing but its burning eyes. Sam rounded on the ghosts behind him, perusing them down the corridors, back to Dean. The ghosts fled before Sam, frozen to Sam's touch and melting under it. Sam would have been terrified at his power had it not been for the ache in his chest, Dean -
The power of the orb was pulsing through him, he could hear his own steps remaking the house on his way to Dean.
Something in this new knowledge made Sam stop in his track. Something - in the house. He would need something.
Wouldn't be able to help Dean without it.
A space opened up before him, the way they walked in, but different. And casually set there, waiting - the gift of life. Small red fruit in the dark light.
Maybe ghost fruit. It could be a mistake. But could also be the only thing that could help.
Sam grabbed it and sprinted to Dean, back to Dean.
Vanquished the last ghost, pulling it off of Dean without thought. "Dean! Dean" Sam grabbed for a pulse, a gleam of recognition in Dean's eyes.
Dean's body was pliable, warm in Sam's arms, but here was no reaction, no echo of Sam's erratic breaths.
"Dean, please, Dean" Sam was whispering, "please".
Nothing.
Sam pushed the fruit between Dean's lips, its skin breaking against Dean's teeth, red. A breeze rose around them, sun-ripened tart and sweet, sticky hands at the back seat, Dean's lips at night in summer. The tips of Sam's fingers at the dip of Dean's neck as Dean's eyes blinked back, wide, and Dean's heart was beating again.
"Sammy", Dean looked up at him, bare to the quick, then Dean was smiling, "Sammy", he was removing the cherry pit from his lips, "You know I can tie a knot in one of these babies with only my tongue?"
"Dean", Sam was on him, damp faces soft under stubble, under rifts and years, fruit lingering on their tongues, between their grins.
"Thanks for giving me your cherry, Sammy" Dean was mumbling into Sam's hair.
Why couldn't it have been a watermelon.
Notes:I don't know why Pacman. I'm sad, wanted to write something silly. Also it turns out that while (probably?) the version I played for research gave me an extra life for that cherry, it changes from version to version and that is not even an official possibility? so - yeah, sorry to purists.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13?
Words: 705
Warnings and tags:
Summary: Sam fights ghosts to save Dean
"Dean!" Sam screamed as the ghost slammed his brother against the wall.
"Behind you!" Dean called, a flash of bloody teeth. Sam ducked and rolled out of the way, just missing the killing touch of another ghost. Fuck, fuck. There were now two on him, three. A pac.
Sam dashed through the dark house's angled corridors, frantically searching. They stepped right into it, no investigation, no EMF reader - the second they were inside the house, they wre running for their lives.
The entire house was thrumming with sirens, Sam couldn't say whether they were intended to warn them or against them. All he could see was Dean's face, Dean being erased from existence, done.
Nothing worked against these ghosts. As Sam ran - a flicker of memory, maybe something Dad said when they were kids, said to Dean - - the ghosts are tied to orbs. Nothing would work, no salt, no iron - nothing unless he managed to find the orb.
Behind him he could hea r furniture crashing, the thud of a body - hitting the floor, flesh, reverberating through Sam's legs. Knee against the floor, then the body. Sam wished, not for the first time he'd never gotten clean. Not if the price was losing Dean again. Not again. Couldn't live through that again, not again. Wouldn't get a dog next time, wouldn't ever stop.
He put the bitterness into running, the desperation. He was a tiny bit faster than the ghosts, and that margin was the only hope he and Dean had. Sam took a sharp turn at a run - to find himself in a small passage - and from its other side, was approaching a ghost. There was nowhere to run, nothing left.
Then Sam realized, between him and the other side of the passage, there it was - a glowing round orb. If only he could reach it before the ghosts touched him, he could buy them some time. Could buy Dean some time to run outside - but Dean wouldn't, not unless Sam was there to make him.
Sam flung himself at the orb and crashed into the approaching ghost midair. The orb was gone. In a moment suspended in time, world took a breath, and the ghost exploded and shriveled into nothing but its burning eyes. Sam rounded on the ghosts behind him, perusing them down the corridors, back to Dean. The ghosts fled before Sam, frozen to Sam's touch and melting under it. Sam would have been terrified at his power had it not been for the ache in his chest, Dean -
The power of the orb was pulsing through him, he could hear his own steps remaking the house on his way to Dean.
Something in this new knowledge made Sam stop in his track. Something - in the house. He would need something.
Wouldn't be able to help Dean without it.
A space opened up before him, the way they walked in, but different. And casually set there, waiting - the gift of life. Small red fruit in the dark light.
Maybe ghost fruit. It could be a mistake. But could also be the only thing that could help.
Sam grabbed it and sprinted to Dean, back to Dean.
Vanquished the last ghost, pulling it off of Dean without thought. "Dean! Dean" Sam grabbed for a pulse, a gleam of recognition in Dean's eyes.
Dean's body was pliable, warm in Sam's arms, but here was no reaction, no echo of Sam's erratic breaths.
"Dean, please, Dean" Sam was whispering, "please".
Nothing.
Sam pushed the fruit between Dean's lips, its skin breaking against Dean's teeth, red. A breeze rose around them, sun-ripened tart and sweet, sticky hands at the back seat, Dean's lips at night in summer. The tips of Sam's fingers at the dip of Dean's neck as Dean's eyes blinked back, wide, and Dean's heart was beating again.
"Sammy", Dean looked up at him, bare to the quick, then Dean was smiling, "Sammy", he was removing the cherry pit from his lips, "You know I can tie a knot in one of these babies with only my tongue?"
"Dean", Sam was on him, damp faces soft under stubble, under rifts and years, fruit lingering on their tongues, between their grins.
"Thanks for giving me your cherry, Sammy" Dean was mumbling into Sam's hair.
Why couldn't it have been a watermelon.
Notes:
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