The Cast (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
random_xtras) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
randomplaces2007-02-15 02:50 am
random_xtras) wrote in randomplaces2007-02-15 02:50 am
Entry tags:
oldMal's Serenity. Love me when I'm Gone
Sam frowns and flinches away from nothing, muttering about green eggs sucking.
Dean looks up. "Hey, little brother, how ya doin'?"
Sam blinks and looks around. "Gone."
Dean comes close and kneels down next to him. "Who's gone?"
The younger Winchester pulls his long legs to his chest. "Sam."
Dean frowns. "Well, where did he run off too?" he asks. "You think we could find him?"
"Didn't run, didn't hide," says Sam tonelessly. "Gone. They killed him and he's dead."
His blood runs a bit cold at that. "How do you figure that?" he asks.
"Cut him up. Like the dragon. Cut him to little tiny pieces, and...." He threw his arms out, sending a few of his cherished dinosaurs flying. "Scattered him."
"But I found him, didn't I?" asks Dean, slightly worried.
"No, no, just the shell." He shakes his head, then lowers his voice. "Standing in the shadows/ I'm alive but I'm alone. Part of me is fighting it....." He hugs himself and rocks. "But part of me is gone."
That frown deepens if it's at all possible. "So...what do you think we can do to try and bring him back. I'm a half decent doctor..."
"He's never coming back. He's gone, gone, gone." Sam's face twists as though he's going to cry, but then his eyes go wide as though with horror.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
A howl of pain and anguish splits the air. Sam grabs his head and yells again, shaking.
"Oh #$#%$@#," comes Mal's voice from outside.
Dean grabs onto his brother's shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong." he says. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."
Sam twists away, one foot lashing out blindly and catching Dean on the kneecap before he scrambles to all fours, only to collapse a few feet away and resume the tortured howls.
"Kid, ya need any help in there?" comes the captain's voice, sounding worried.
Dean gives a cry of pain at that, dropping back, and holding his injured knee. "That...that might be a good thing," he calls. Darn that'd hurt. "Sam, you..you need to calm down."
The seventeen year old's cries only become more frantic and pained, drowning out whatever Mal might be saying.
He crawls over towards him and tries to get ahold of him. "Sam? Sam, please?"
-Watch out!- warns a female voice in his mind as his brother strikes out again. Something seems to jerk him back.
Dean backs away in time, but that doesn't mean he stays away. "Sam, stop it!" he yells.
-I don't think he can hear ye.-
"I need him to hear me, dammit."
-Well I cannot even hear him! There's nothin' but pain 'n fear.- A sea breeze swirls through the room, sounding of seals crying on rocks.
"Do I look like I care about that right now?" he snaps angrily. He gets close to him, grabbing his shoulders again. "I've got you, Sam. Please, you've gotta come out of it."
Sam's past fighting, all he can do is curl tightly and yell.
-What do yeh need me t' do?-
"Anything that makes him feel safe, feel comfortable." He looks around. "Where's Petey?"
The stuffie suddenly appears and hovers in front of his face.
Dean snatches it out of the air. "Hey look who I've got here."
Sam keeps yelling.
"Oh come on baby bro, you're gonna scare Petey."
At that moment Sam probably scares the crud out of his big brother, because his cries stop abruptly. But so does his breathing.
"Oh, God, no!" he cries, grabbing his brother up, and trying to decide whether or not to start CPR. "Get my kit!" he yells.
Sam gasps weakly, then is still again for a moment. And in the silence the slow pound of Mal's fist and his steady voice, praying or cursing, can be heard.
And Dean decides to start CPR, muttering curses under his breath. "Don't you die on me, Sammy."
Another gasp sounds as he moves him, then a whimper.
He's barely holding himself together as he grabs the case that suddenly shows up in front of him and he grabs it and uses what he can to try and bring his brother around. "Don't you leave me.." he cries,now starting CPR.
-Gone.... Gone!- Sam's mental voice is faint and shaky, as though coming from a distance.
-NO. Not gone!- insists Violet. -Pull yerself t'gether, mate!-
"God, don't do it," says Mal, opening the door and looking in. "Don't do it."
He continues with the CPR frantically, tears spilling down his face as he does, not caring about the choked sobs coming from him. "Please...Sa...Sammy..."
His brother remains unresponsive, laying limp and seemingly lifeless.
Dean continues until he simply collapses and starts weakly pounding his fists on his brother's chest. "No...no..." he sobs. "Damn you...don't...leave me..."
"@#$%&..." breaths Mal. "No @#$%& way."
And Dean's past consolation..he's past trying...
"..please...please..." he whimpers.
-There ye are,- murmurs Violet, and Sam suddenly convulses, then falls back gasping shakily and staring at the ceiling.
Dean's eyes open shakily and he sobs again. "Sammy?" he whimpers, tears still streaming freely down his face.
"Gone...." comes the soft whisper in reply.
He forces himself up and frowns a bit. "No..not gone.." he murmurs, brushing Sam's hair back out of his face. "You're here..."
Those dark eyes just stare past him, full of horror and pain, then close as Sam's breathing falls into the deep pattern of exhausted sleep.
And he just picks him up and holds him, still crying softly. "It's okay,....." he murmurs. "I"ve got you..."
The captain's tortured, dragging steps approach, and then his hand rests on Dean's shoulder. "He gonna be alright?"
Dean looks up at that, tear filled green eyes looking tortured. "I don't know..." he whispers. 'I...don't..know.."
"You're the Doc," Mal reminds him, frowning. "Whaddya mean, ya don't know?"
Those eyes look haunted by that fact now. "I'm sorry..." he whispers, rocking slightly as he held his brother. "I..don't know..."
Mal recognizes that broken look and feels his stomach twist. "Here, bring 'im over here 'n lay 'im down."
Choking back more sobs, he does as he's instructed, being as gentle as he can. "I've...tried so hard...to protect him..."
"I know," says Mal, looking in a drawer behind him.
"I...I just.." he doesn't know..or continue, he can't...
"Better git some rest. It'll look better in the morning." He closes the drawer and turns back to Dean.
Dean frowns a bit and looks at him. "I can't sleep..." he says, though his voice is weary. "..He...I need to take care of him.."
"Y'don't sleep 'n ya really won't be able ta take care'a 'im." Mal gives him a stern look.
He shakes his head, not caring about that right now. "I've..got...just...go."
There's a quick motion from Mal, and then a sharp stinging in Dean's leg. "Really hope ya tol' the truth about what was in here." He tosses the syringe onto the counter.
He starts at that, then looks up, eyes wide and unbelieving as he stares at him for a moment. Then it starts to take effect, and he goes limp, his brother landing in his lap as he lolls unconscious against Mal.
"Need a hand here, Vi." Mal's teeth are gritted with pain, but he sighs with relief as the brothers are settled onto the med tables and covered, Dean's boots hitting the deck with a soft thump.
"I'll watch 'em," she says, hoving faintly into sight. "Ye best git some rest too, Cap."
"No @#$%&, Sherlock." He scowls at her, then turns and hobbles out of the room, shutting off the lights as he goes.
Dean looks up. "Hey, little brother, how ya doin'?"
Sam blinks and looks around. "Gone."
Dean comes close and kneels down next to him. "Who's gone?"
The younger Winchester pulls his long legs to his chest. "Sam."
Dean frowns. "Well, where did he run off too?" he asks. "You think we could find him?"
"Didn't run, didn't hide," says Sam tonelessly. "Gone. They killed him and he's dead."
His blood runs a bit cold at that. "How do you figure that?" he asks.
"Cut him up. Like the dragon. Cut him to little tiny pieces, and...." He threw his arms out, sending a few of his cherished dinosaurs flying. "Scattered him."
"But I found him, didn't I?" asks Dean, slightly worried.
"No, no, just the shell." He shakes his head, then lowers his voice. "Standing in the shadows/ I'm alive but I'm alone. Part of me is fighting it....." He hugs himself and rocks. "But part of me is gone."
That frown deepens if it's at all possible. "So...what do you think we can do to try and bring him back. I'm a half decent doctor..."
"He's never coming back. He's gone, gone, gone." Sam's face twists as though he's going to cry, but then his eyes go wide as though with horror.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
A howl of pain and anguish splits the air. Sam grabs his head and yells again, shaking.
"Oh #$#%$@#," comes Mal's voice from outside.
Dean grabs onto his brother's shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong." he says. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."
Sam twists away, one foot lashing out blindly and catching Dean on the kneecap before he scrambles to all fours, only to collapse a few feet away and resume the tortured howls.
"Kid, ya need any help in there?" comes the captain's voice, sounding worried.
Dean gives a cry of pain at that, dropping back, and holding his injured knee. "That...that might be a good thing," he calls. Darn that'd hurt. "Sam, you..you need to calm down."
The seventeen year old's cries only become more frantic and pained, drowning out whatever Mal might be saying.
He crawls over towards him and tries to get ahold of him. "Sam? Sam, please?"
-Watch out!- warns a female voice in his mind as his brother strikes out again. Something seems to jerk him back.
Dean backs away in time, but that doesn't mean he stays away. "Sam, stop it!" he yells.
-I don't think he can hear ye.-
"I need him to hear me, dammit."
-Well I cannot even hear him! There's nothin' but pain 'n fear.- A sea breeze swirls through the room, sounding of seals crying on rocks.
"Do I look like I care about that right now?" he snaps angrily. He gets close to him, grabbing his shoulders again. "I've got you, Sam. Please, you've gotta come out of it."
Sam's past fighting, all he can do is curl tightly and yell.
-What do yeh need me t' do?-
"Anything that makes him feel safe, feel comfortable." He looks around. "Where's Petey?"
The stuffie suddenly appears and hovers in front of his face.
Dean snatches it out of the air. "Hey look who I've got here."
Sam keeps yelling.
"Oh come on baby bro, you're gonna scare Petey."
At that moment Sam probably scares the crud out of his big brother, because his cries stop abruptly. But so does his breathing.
"Oh, God, no!" he cries, grabbing his brother up, and trying to decide whether or not to start CPR. "Get my kit!" he yells.
Sam gasps weakly, then is still again for a moment. And in the silence the slow pound of Mal's fist and his steady voice, praying or cursing, can be heard.
And Dean decides to start CPR, muttering curses under his breath. "Don't you die on me, Sammy."
Another gasp sounds as he moves him, then a whimper.
He's barely holding himself together as he grabs the case that suddenly shows up in front of him and he grabs it and uses what he can to try and bring his brother around. "Don't you leave me.." he cries,now starting CPR.
-Gone.... Gone!- Sam's mental voice is faint and shaky, as though coming from a distance.
-NO. Not gone!- insists Violet. -Pull yerself t'gether, mate!-
"God, don't do it," says Mal, opening the door and looking in. "Don't do it."
He continues with the CPR frantically, tears spilling down his face as he does, not caring about the choked sobs coming from him. "Please...Sa...Sammy..."
His brother remains unresponsive, laying limp and seemingly lifeless.
Dean continues until he simply collapses and starts weakly pounding his fists on his brother's chest. "No...no..." he sobs. "Damn you...don't...leave me..."
"@#$%&..." breaths Mal. "No @#$%& way."
And Dean's past consolation..he's past trying...
"..please...please..." he whimpers.
-There ye are,- murmurs Violet, and Sam suddenly convulses, then falls back gasping shakily and staring at the ceiling.
Dean's eyes open shakily and he sobs again. "Sammy?" he whimpers, tears still streaming freely down his face.
"Gone...." comes the soft whisper in reply.
He forces himself up and frowns a bit. "No..not gone.." he murmurs, brushing Sam's hair back out of his face. "You're here..."
Those dark eyes just stare past him, full of horror and pain, then close as Sam's breathing falls into the deep pattern of exhausted sleep.
And he just picks him up and holds him, still crying softly. "It's okay,....." he murmurs. "I"ve got you..."
The captain's tortured, dragging steps approach, and then his hand rests on Dean's shoulder. "He gonna be alright?"
Dean looks up at that, tear filled green eyes looking tortured. "I don't know..." he whispers. 'I...don't..know.."
"You're the Doc," Mal reminds him, frowning. "Whaddya mean, ya don't know?"
Those eyes look haunted by that fact now. "I'm sorry..." he whispers, rocking slightly as he held his brother. "I..don't know..."
Mal recognizes that broken look and feels his stomach twist. "Here, bring 'im over here 'n lay 'im down."
Choking back more sobs, he does as he's instructed, being as gentle as he can. "I've...tried so hard...to protect him..."
"I know," says Mal, looking in a drawer behind him.
"I...I just.." he doesn't know..or continue, he can't...
"Better git some rest. It'll look better in the morning." He closes the drawer and turns back to Dean.
Dean frowns a bit and looks at him. "I can't sleep..." he says, though his voice is weary. "..He...I need to take care of him.."
"Y'don't sleep 'n ya really won't be able ta take care'a 'im." Mal gives him a stern look.
He shakes his head, not caring about that right now. "I've..got...just...go."
There's a quick motion from Mal, and then a sharp stinging in Dean's leg. "Really hope ya tol' the truth about what was in here." He tosses the syringe onto the counter.
He starts at that, then looks up, eyes wide and unbelieving as he stares at him for a moment. Then it starts to take effect, and he goes limp, his brother landing in his lap as he lolls unconscious against Mal.
"Need a hand here, Vi." Mal's teeth are gritted with pain, but he sighs with relief as the brothers are settled onto the med tables and covered, Dean's boots hitting the deck with a soft thump.
"I'll watch 'em," she says, hoving faintly into sight. "Ye best git some rest too, Cap."
"No @#$%&, Sherlock." He scowls at her, then turns and hobbles out of the room, shutting off the lights as he goes.