Dean's lighter is in Sam's other hand, it had been in Dean's pocket along with the car keys. He's gonna have to carry things around in a Sammy-proof safe from now on. The problem is that Dean taught that kid everything he knows and he could probably break into anywhere.
"Fire is pure," Sam says, he sounds like he's reciting it, "She says it'll be fine. I'll be warm and clean. Always."
Dean clenches his fists, trying to think, his little brother has strapped himself to a bomb with every intention of triggering it. "Who's she, Sam?"
"Mom," Sam tells him, Dean had guessed so, "I know she's not real but, but she is, you know? She's in my head but she's a memory, one I lost, so she's real in a way, right?"
Sam looks so desperate, his eyes are pleading, he just wants Dean to understand. Well, tough luck on that one.
"The only things here that are real are me and you and the fact that you are about to set yourself on fire," Dean says clearly, "Do you hear me?"
"It's okay, Dean," Sam repeats, but he's crying. He frowns, glancing between Dean and the nothingness beside him. Dean is getting through to him. Before Sam can do or say anything else, Dean lunges forward and pulls Sam into his arms.
"See, now if you use that lighter then we're both going up," Dean says. Sam drops his head onto Dean's shoulder and cries.
"Why are you doing this? Why?" he asks.
"Because I'm not staying in this crap-fest of a world without you, okay?" Dean tells him, he clutches at Sam, runs his fingers through his soaked hair. "Okay?"
"Okay," Sam sobs and Dean hears the jar and the lighter thud against the ground, then Sam's gloved hands clutch at his back. They stay like that until Sam doesn't seem able to hold himself up any loner and Dean lowers him to the ground and holds him tight. Bobby's car rolls around the corner and he hops out, staring at the two of them.
"What's going on?" he asks worriedly.
"We're good," Dean says, "We need to clean Sammy up."
Bobby helps him manoeuvre Sam inside and they settle him into a warm bath. Sam's still shuddering, mumbling under his breath, his eyes are drooping and he seems half-asleep as Dean scrubs him clean.
"What happened?" Bobby asks. It's clear from his voice that he already has an idea, the evidence was clear when he'd arrived.
"We need to lock everything down, Bobby," Dean says, his voice catches in his throat, "We need to fix him."
He pulls Sam's soaked head to rest on his chest and holds on tight.
RE: FILLED: Cold Flesh 3/3
"Fire is pure," Sam says, he sounds like he's reciting it, "She says it'll be fine. I'll be warm and clean. Always."
Dean clenches his fists, trying to think, his little brother has strapped himself to a bomb with every intention of triggering it. "Who's she, Sam?"
"Mom," Sam tells him, Dean had guessed so, "I know she's not real but, but she is, you know? She's in my head but she's a memory, one I lost, so she's real in a way, right?"
Sam looks so desperate, his eyes are pleading, he just wants Dean to understand. Well, tough luck on that one.
"The only things here that are real are me and you and the fact that you are about to set yourself on fire," Dean says clearly, "Do you hear me?"
"It's okay, Dean," Sam repeats, but he's crying. He frowns, glancing between Dean and the nothingness beside him. Dean is getting through to him. Before Sam can do or say anything else, Dean lunges forward and pulls Sam into his arms.
"See, now if you use that lighter then we're both going up," Dean says. Sam drops his head onto Dean's shoulder and cries.
"Why are you doing this? Why?" he asks.
"Because I'm not staying in this crap-fest of a world without you, okay?" Dean tells him, he clutches at Sam, runs his fingers through his soaked hair. "Okay?"
"Okay," Sam sobs and Dean hears the jar and the lighter thud against the ground, then Sam's gloved hands clutch at his back. They stay like that until Sam doesn't seem able to hold himself up any loner and Dean lowers him to the ground and holds him tight. Bobby's car rolls around the corner and he hops out, staring at the two of them.
"What's going on?" he asks worriedly.
"We're good," Dean says, "We need to clean Sammy up."
Bobby helps him manoeuvre Sam inside and they settle him into a warm bath. Sam's still shuddering, mumbling under his breath, his eyes are drooping and he seems half-asleep as Dean scrubs him clean.
"What happened?" Bobby asks. It's clear from his voice that he already has an idea, the evidence was clear when he'd arrived.
"We need to lock everything down, Bobby," Dean says, his voice catches in his throat, "We need to fix him."
He pulls Sam's soaked head to rest on his chest and holds on tight.
END (I am so sorry this was 10/10 depressing)