Landing (2/2)

Warning: contains violence and brief descriptions of extreme pain

( x )


By the time he saw light again, Oscar’s tears had stopped once more. The human opened his hand and let Oscar roll harshly onto a new surface, where he lay exhausted for an extra second. The metal was cool to the touch.

“Just a mark for this one,” the gruff human announced. That led Oscar to notice the other human in the room.

“Got it,” they said. It was a much meeker human, but they were no less terrifying. Oscar could only see their back so far as they fiddled with something opposite where he lay. He brushed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Even curiosity was a foreign emotion now. All he knew was fear and resignation.

The room was fairly small, by human standards. Oscar sat on a metal workbench that took up most of one wall. The man who’d carried him in leaned against the frame of an archway leading out one way, a bored look on his face. Another archway led out directly across the room, a trek of several minutes for Oscar but barely two strides for a human.

He didn’t have his climbing hook or his bag, not since Noriko took it away. Oscar didn’t even entertain the notion of trying to climb down. He had nowhere to go.

There was a lamp illuminating where he sat, but Oscar frowned at the human who had his back turned, working away at something on another workbench. There was a faint orange glow over there.

When they turned, they held a long metal rod in one gloved hand. Oscar’s eyes widened and he tried to scoot backwards on the table as the other human’s eyes fell on him. It only took them a few steps to saunter over, smirking down at him.

“Lord, he’s a little one. He’ll barely fit,” they mused. The human’s free hand left their side and descended towards Oscar’s cowering form, and he squeaked in terror. The hand might have blocked the sight of the tool they held in their other hand, but it couldn’t erase the memory of the heat haze coming off of it.

“N-no, please!” Oscar begged, but a finger and thumb pinched around him. He pushed at them, but they turned him over as if he hadn’t moved at all. He squirmed and kicked the best he could, but he was no match.

The human had done this before. Their hand settled over him, their heavy thumb pressing his legs down into the cold metal table. Other fingertips pinned his upper arms down, and his elbows didn’t have a good angle to try and push them away. Oscar’s face was pressed into the table and he could only see the human out of the corner of his eye. A fingertip shoved the hem of his shirt up and the cold air chilled his back like a hundred little needles.

There was a movement of glowing red in the corner of his eye. Warmth replaced the cold.

And then agonizing heat and pain replaced everything. Oscar screamed.

His voice was thready and broken, and he swore his skin sizzled as that hot metal made contact. His mind, in a panic, could only focus on the pain and the contact of the metal on his skin. It didn’t even last a second, and yet he felt like several minutes went by before there was nothing touching him but the table beneath him.

“What the hell?” the gruff human said. Oscar didn’t even flinch. He lay there, suddenly more exhausted than he’d ever been in his life, with his head pounding and his back stinging in the open air.

“I … The rod cooled off,” the smaller human stammered. Their voice was muffled by the throb of pain in Oscar’s head and on his back. “Must … must not have heated it up enough.”

“Well, now his mark’ll be uneven unless you’re more careful,“ the gruff human warned. “We can just hope Carson don’t notice. Just take care of it.”

“Right,” the other human said.

Oscar could hear more metal clattering behind him. He wanted to push himself up and at least try to crawl to safety. Instead, his muscles did nothing but quiver after all the strain. He blinked a few tears away and they fell onto the table. Even hearing those footsteps cross back toward him couldn’t convince his body to run.

The hand returned, pinning him down like before. Oscar finally struggled, but he was even weaker than before. This time, when the radiant heat reached him, it was like it clawed right into the first burn before the red-hot metal actually touched him. His scream pitched upwards. It was too much.

Another eternity with that hot metal against his skin went by. Then, just as the human removed it and cool air swarmed over it, Oscar lost consciousness again.

Sneak Peek!

In celebration of reaching ten stories for Brothers Apart, this story is a special edition. It brings in a new set of characters that I’m very excited for everyone to welcome into the BA universe!

A Lich of Sense arrives officially on December 11th.


Over the last hour, Dean’s movements had become more sluggish, his snark slowing down compared to normal. Sam could feel a pang of fear whenever he caught sight of Dean’s arm. His brother had tied a tourniquet to slow the bleeding while they were walking, but the red stain had continued to spread.

Dean was weakening, and there was nothing he could do.

“Dean, how–” Sam’s query was cut short when the massive hunter suddenly dropped down, going to a sit with his legs crossed. He leaned back against a tree, closing his eyes to the silence of the forest.

It took Sam a few moments to recover, shoulders slightly shaking from the terror of the ground dropping out from under him. It gave the effect of being trapped in free-fall, with no seatbelt to secure him in place. Dean had never done anything like that without warning, or making sure Sam was secure.

“Dean, you alright?” Sam asked worriedly once he caught his breath again. The huge hunter was paler than normal, his lips a brighter pink against the whitened skin.

A green eye cracked open, searching out Sam. “Yeah, Sammy. I’ll be okay. Just… gotta rest for a bit…”

Worry spiked in Sam even more. It wasn’t like Dean to just rest like this… not on a case… and with his injury beyond Sam’s ability to handle, Sam couldn’t risk Dean dropping off into a deep sleep. Most of the time, Dean was an extraordinarily light sleeper, waking at the smallest noises around him (like Sam, arguing with his father by Dean’s laptop that first time they’d met up again), but other times nothing could budge him, come hell or high water.

Standing precariously on his perch, Sam shoved roughly against Dean’s cheek. It was clammy to the touch, ratcheting Sam’s worry up another notch. “C’mon, Godzilla. No falling asleep. You have townspeople to terrify.”

This elicited a grumble from the hunter, but nothing more. Thankful that Dean was still responsive, Sam started to climb down the long sleeve to where Dean’s hands were folded on his lap.

He had an idea.

So far, Dean has only been knocked out and tied up with Sam around. This will come up in the future, though. Good ways for Sam to help out big bro would be carefully talking Dean through an injury if it’s too big for Sam to handle, keeping Dean from slipping into sleep when he might have a concussion, even taking a bullet out of a wound. His hands are the perfect size to slip in and grab it.

Sam hasn’t hurt Dean yet, either physically or emotionally. The closest is Dean having to see Sam afraid of him after the events of Taken. Even Sam’s hurt by those automatic reactions, he just can’t stop them.

The Cat

BA Canon: No

Timeline: After The Schism of Fire and Water

Original Post: Sam Verses Cat ( you wanted Dean, here he comes! This will be a little bonus prompt )


( Part 2 of 2 )

Dean shoved the plates and silverware set up on the table out of his way, gently laying Sam down on a dishcloth. “Hang on, Sammy,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of that for you.”

Sam groaned, trying to sit up. “Dean…” he gritted out. “Cat…”

“I took care of it. Don’t worry, it can’t reach you, pint-size.” Carefully, Dean pushed on Sam’s chest, forcing him to lie still. “Just give me a minute. I need to grab supplies.”

Sam sagged back down, letting Dean take over. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a second Dean panicked until he saw the small chest move up and down. Only then did he get up. Supplies… he needed supplies. He hadn’t brought supplies in with him. Something to disinfect the slashes, something to wrap them up with. It would be impossible to give Sam stitches.

Shoving away the panic welling in him, Dean opened up the door again. The cat was waiting outside and tried to shove its way past him. Angrily, Dean grabbed it by the scruff of its neck. He locked the cat up in the kitchen. The people who owned the house would be back soon enough, they could let it out.

The bathroom next to the kitchen had a first aid kit. He grabbed it and ran back to the dining room. Sam was still slumped down, only this time he was unconscious. Dean cursed under his breath.

With great care, he removed the jacket Sam had on, wincing at the slashes that raked the back. Another jacket down for Sam…

Dean gently dropped it to the side, then had to take off the tiny t-shirt his brother had on. He maneuvered the small, fragile arms so they didn’t get caught as he stripped it off. Sam’s body was limp as Dean held him up, shifting his brother so he was lying facedown on the hand.

Four bright red lines stretched across the hunter’s lean back. Blood caked every part of him, more welling up as Dean watched. Hurriedly, he pressed a wet rag against the cuts, wiping off the blood and covering them up while he got an alcohol pad ready. “This is going to hurt,” he warned his brother’s unconscious form before pressing it against the cuts.

Knocked out or not, Sam writhed in pain at the contact. Dean bit his lip, forcing himself to not move. He stroked it down the cuts, cleaning off more blood and sterilizing the wounds. Dabbing a wet paper towel against Sam’s back cleaned off the rest of the blood before he decided to try wrapping it.

With one hand occupied, Dean had to use his teeth to rip the gauze and start unraveling it. Once he had enough, he put a sterile cloth against Sam’s back and began to steadily wrap the gauze around the other hunter, trying to avoid making it too tight. He sighed when he was finished, carefully checking his work to make sure he’d covered the full injury.

Sam started to shiver, from cold and blood loss. Dean cupped him against his chest. “It’s okay, Sammy. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”


( Part 1 )


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