Chapter Text
Sam Winchester would balk at the idea of something hurting like hell. He’d been to hell, knew it intimately. The memories of it still lived with him, they still came to him every night and wrapped around his consciousness every day, affecting every aspect, every facet of his life. Sure, he was good at pretending that over one hundred years in hell didn’t affect him, but what other choice did he have? There was always someone else that needed saving, another apocalypse that needed averting. How could he take a weekend off? How could he ever take a day? What if, in that day, someone died? That would just be another name to add to the list. Another weight on his already burdened shoulders.
So That’s how he knew that nothing on earth could ever hurt like hell. Nothing on earth came with the baggage that an extended stay in the cage did. He’d been stabbed, shot, choked, had his foot cooked extra crispy by that psycho British bitch, and everything in between. None of that compared to having his skin flayed while he watched, or seeing your own heart beating in someone else hand. That’s why, when he went down in the middle of a forest in Idaho, the jaws of a bear trap clamped firmly on his left ankle, he didn’t say it hurt like hell. It was close though.
He hadn’t been paying attention to the forest floor, it was a rookie move. Hunters, regular hunters, put traps down all the time for grizzlies in the area, but Sam had been hyper-focused on finding the werewolf that had evaded him and Dean for the last two nights. It was a huge forest, an extensive piece of land, and between the two of them they couldn’t cover even a quarter of it. They were both determined to not let it get away for a third night. So determined, it seemed, that Sam had forgotten basic survival skills.
The cold and wet of the forest floor was quickly soaking into the denim of his jeans, and he could feel mud and mulchy leaves under his hands, where he was holding himself up to inspect the damage to his leg. Under the rusted metal of the bear trap, he could see where his jeans had torn and where the vicious steel claws disappeared beneath them, grinding against the bones of his lower leg. Distantly, he thought about the fact he’d probably have to get some kind of shot after this, and he grimaced at that thought. He had no idea how long this trap had been laid out, nor the kind of bacteria that could be festering on it. Really, he should be more concerned about bleeding out in the middle of the forest, but he’d already pulled his cell from his pocket to call Dean. Who no doubt would hear the word bear trap and take off in a run that would see him across the forest before the call had even disconnected. His big brother would see to it that he got out of here in one piece, or as good as near it.
There was no way Sam would be able to get out of the trap on his own, not with the blood loss that was quickly making his arms feel like jello, and the awkward angle in which his leg lay. Part of him hated having to call for his big brother, hated that he was pulling him away from the job, but he knew that if Dean found out he had sat here with his leg encased in steel while his brother finished off a wolf, then he’d be pretty pissed at him. Probably call him an idiot.
Eager to preserve his strength, the younger Winchester lay back on the floor, with the night sky above him, a sprinkling of stars littering the midnight blue. He let his eyes drift shut for a moment so that he could slow his breathing down, and hear past the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. He had to be calm when he called Dean. He knew his brother would pick up on the sound of barely contained panic in his voice almost immediately, and that would just make him panic, and then in his panic to get to Sam, he was likely to hurt himself too. Then they would be seriously screwed. Then they’d have to actually call the authorities, and try to explain why they were hunting bears in the middle of the night. With silver bullets. Pressing number one on his speed dial, he held the phone up to his ear, and waited. Five seconds for Dean to pull the phone from his pocket, two for him to see it was Sam calling, and his brother had answered before the ten count.
“Sammy, you got it?” The tinny, gruff voice asked, making Sam cringe slightly. ‘No, Dean, I haven’t got it’ he wanted to say. ‘just screwed up the hunt again, need you to come save my ass, again.’
“No, no. I was looking, and a bear trap got me. I don’t think I can get it off myself.” Rain was starting to fall now. Big, fat drops falling onto his forehead. Like drops of blood, Jess’ blood. Falling from the ceiling of the apartment they shared, the apartment he watched burn. The apartment they were supposed to come home to, as husband and wife.
“-mmy! Hey, answer me! Don’t make me get the helicopters out!” The voice brought Sam back and he blinked a couple of times to stop seeing wooden beams and see the sky instead.
“I’m here, I’m good. I just-- Just need your help.” In more ways than one.
“You got it, Sammy. Just gotta tell me where you are, I’m not a psychic.” Not like you, you freak. That niggling voice in the back of his head was really not helping right now.
If they were on the phone to each other, then that meant they had signal. If they had signal, then Sam could send Dean his GPS location. Which meant he didn’t have to try and figure out how far from the car he was now. Pulling the phone from his ear, he blinked a couple of times until his vision focused, then clicked on deans contact picture. He had done this a billion times before, could find the little arrow emoji to send his location to his brother. Then all he had to do was lie back, not pass out, and wait for him to come.
“Done. Watch your step. Could be more traps along the way.” He spoke into the phone, not bothering to hold it back to his ear. He could hear Dean saying something back to him through the handset, but by this point Sam had already dropped the phone in to the mud. Great, that would probably be ruined. His last thought before he succumbed to unconscious, was that he’d have to get a shot and a new phone at this rate.
So much for not passing out.