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Dean had ditched school early so he could do a walk through of the town he was staying in. It was around 6:45 now; the sun was going down and Dean wanted to get back before it got dark. He walked slowly down the street, and pulls something out of his jean pocket. Dean looks down and smirks, feeling satisfaction of crumpling a sheet of paper in his hand and tossing the homework he had been given into the nearest trash can. It clatters to the bottom and Dean continues on, sticking his now free hand into his pocket and rubbing his finger across his army knife. The cold hair rustles through the utility coat that’s over his plaid shirt. His looks down and sees his other hand fingering the necklace Sam had given him 4 years ago. He’s never taken it off. Dean walked up the street into the motel’s driveway and grabbed the key out of his pocket once he got close enough to their room. But a crash from inside made Dean sprint the rest of the way there plunge the key into the hole, turn it, (almost breaking the lock) and shoving the door open with so much force he almost broke it off the hinges. “Don’t you ever do that again!” John screamed. Dean looked, seeing a table flat on the floor, it’s contents littering the carpet of the motel. Sam was backed into a corner, looking up in fear but Dean could see the spark of defiance in his eyes. John was towering over him, sticking a finger in his little brother’s face. “Dad!” Dean yelled, “What’s going on?” John’s head snapped towards his older son, his eyes narrowed and angry, his face beet red, his veins almost popping out. Dean almost took a step back from the glare, and he marveled at how Sam looked him right in the eye. “This little-” John spit. Dean never let him finish. He looked Sam right in the eye who had been staring at his brother with pleading eyes. Dean spoke calmly, only concerned with his brother’s safety. “Sammy, are you ok?” Sam nodded weakly, trying to speak, but John wouldn’t have it. John slammed his hand into the wall next to him, making Sam flinch. “Good thing he’s ok! He almost got himself killed! I told him not to leave the room!” “You left the room?” Dean asked in shock, turning on his brother with a glare, “It’s after 6 Sam, you know the rules.” “I had to,” Sam whined quietly, not daring to meet his brother’s gaze, totally contrasting the way he glared right back at his father’s, which scared Dean more. That kid had such a resilience. “Sam, what were you thinking?” Dean said weakly, rubbing his forehead, just relieved that his brother was safe. “I’m sorry but-” Sam started. John lashed out, gripping the Sam’s shirt and shoving him against the wall. Sam bit his lip so hard, sucking a rushed breath in through his nose, that blood started to well up from his lip and get to the point where it almost collected in a full drop to trickle down his chin. Dean tensed, unsure of whether not to intervene; that might make things worse. “I can take care of myself,” Sam hissed at their dad. “No you can’t Sam!” John yelled, “You can’t! Dean and I have to drag your butt around, always look out for you- do you even want to be in this family?” Sam’s face screwed up in anger and hurt. Dean put a hand on his dad’s shoulder, dismayed that John always came back to that stabbing point. John shook him off and continued to glare at Sam who was breathing hard, seemingly ignoring the hand that was tightening on his shirt. “You just want to go to school, live a normal life, but this is your family,” John hissed. “Dad,” Dean snarled, “I think he gets it.” “He never gets it,” John snarled, shoving his brother against the wall harder, making Sam wince in pain but not dare let out a cry. Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw his father’s right hand come back and Dean tensed. Sam saw it too, and his eyes flicked to Dean before back at the fist that was coming down, panic setting in as he squeezed his eyes shut and braced for the hit that looked like it would land right across his cheekbone. And with that, Dean let out a low growl and lunged forward, shoving himself between the two of them, and he caught his father’s fist before it could hit Sammy. In the big commotion their father had lost his grip on Sam’s shirt and Dean saw his brother lean heavily on the wall, weak and scared. “That’s enough,” Dean glared at his father, shoving his fist away, “I said that’s enough.” He stepped protectively closer to Sam, shielding him with his bigger frame and even sticking a hand out across Sam’s chest as if their father would go for him again to finish his act of discipline. “He learned his lesson,” Dean said firmly. John was fuming and he and Dean glared at one another. Sam was trembling behind him; Dean could feel his hand slightly tugging on Dean’s jacket. Dean glared harder than he ever had, infuriated with his father. John, knowing he wouldn’t get past Dean without a fight, and knowing that enough was enough, took one more look at Sam before turning around. Dean stayed in front of Sam until his father stormed into his room and slammed the door shut. Once the tremor was gone from the force their father had slammed the door with, Dean let out a shaky sigh and turned around to face his brother. He knelt on one knee, gripping Sam’s arms and looking into his eyes. “Are you ok?” Dean asked. Sam nodded firmly, without missing a beat, “Yes.” Dean looked into those soft brown eyes and felt his heart hurt for his brother. Sam was biting his lip, his hair swept messily across his forehead, trying to hide the tears Dean knew were pricking and stinging his eyes. He was so young and so innocent, and so hurt by his dad’s words, even though he would never show that in front of their father. But Dean saw it now- in the way his voice didn’t quaver because he was determined not to let the sadness show. The way he would meet Dean’s eyes with shame. The slouch of his shoulders… Dean nodded and stood, unsure of what to do. He desperately wanted to hug his little brother, but didn’t feel it was the time after that incident. He gave Sam an affectionate rub of his hair and nodded toward their shared bedroom. “Go get some homework done, nerd,” Dean tried to lighten the mood, smiling at Sam, who didn’t return the favor. Dean’s gaze flicked to his father’s room that had the door firmly closed and he sighed, his fists balling up at his sides. He spoke calmly for Sam so that he wouldn’t worry, “I’m gonna talk with Dad, ok?” “Ok,” Sam said quietly. He turned and started to walk towards their room, his feet dragging along the floor. Dean reached out once he was a couple feet away and flicked him affectionately in the back, making Sam turn his head and smirk a bit. Dean smirked back, glad that he had put a smile on his brother’s face, even if it was small. He waited until Sam was in the room and motioned for him to shut the door. Sam hesitated, and stood in the doorway but Dean gave him a look and repeated the motion. Sam shut the door and Dean waited a minute to make sure he didn’t try and sneak out to come and listen. When no movement came, Dean felt it was safe to approach the closed door of his father’s room. When he tried to open the door he found the handle wouldn’t budge and Dean sighed. He knocked. No answer. Dean rubbed his forehead with the back of his palm and spoke loud enough that his dad could hear him. “We need to talk. Do I need to get my pick or can you open the door dad?” Silence for a second and Dean almost turned around to get his pick (he had been serious) when he heard a slight shuffle of footsteps and the door opened. His father glared at him, leaving the door open big enough that Dean could clearly see him, but not fit through. “I’m not that small, Dad,” Dean joked. His father, clearly not having it, roughly yanked the door open and crossed to the other side of the room. Dean raised his eyebrows and walked in, closing the door behind him. There was a second of silence as John sat down on the opposite side of the bed with his back to Dean and he started cleaning his pistols. “I can either wait here until you’re done or we can talk and I’ll leave sooner,” Dean said angrily. His father threw the gun down, almost making Dean flinch and he turned harshly, “What Dean?” “Why would you say those things to him?” Dean asked. “Because they’re true,” John hissed. “No, they’re not. You’ve decided them. Not Sam. And keep it up, and he might actually leave. And I’ll never forgive you,” Dean shot back. “He was careless,” John said, with fire in his eyes. “Was he?” Dean snarled, “Where were you, Dad?” John flashed him a glare but Dean didn’t back down. Usually he obeyed his father, and listened to him, and he rarely raised his voice at him. But this...this was about his brother. And Dean would chose Sam’s side every single time. “I ran out,” John said in gritted teeth, “Thought someone was going through the Impala but it was just some stupid kids. I thought I heard a noise further off so I grabbed the salt gun and went to go check it out.” “Yeah? And then what?” Dean asked. “I’m creeping towards the gutter, ready to fire and Sam had run out after me after I specifically told him to stay inside. Screaming about something in the gutter and that he needed me to get inside. So I dragged him by his ear back to the motel and then you came home.” John seemed confident in his story but Dean was rather pissed. “Don’t you dare pin this on Sam,” Dean said calmly, “this was your fault.” “Careful Dean,” John warned. “No.You be careful. Sam is already smarter than both of us. I bet he did his homework on the hunt and found something out,” Dean guessed. That kid was a genius, giving Dean fact after fact for every hunt they had been on, always wanting to help. Dean shook his head, “He saw his dad walking out into a possible death trap and ran out to save you. Sam’s young and inexperienced but he’s sure as hell not stupid. He didn’t run out after you for fun dad. He knew something. But you’re too busy rubbing all that leaving crap in his face to care. It’s like you want him gone!” “Of course not. I need to protect him,” John says. “Well, you’re doing a heck of a job!” Dean shouts, “Sure. Protect him by practically daring him to leave? What’s wrong with you?” “Be careful what you say, son.” John’s now standing and he walks around the edge of the bed. But this time, Dean steps right up to him. It’s one of the rare moments of courage he has, fueled by rage and motivated by the fact he was defending his brother. “You hypocrite. I hunt. I kill. I obey every single order you give me,” Dean says through gritted teeth, “But when it comes to Sam? If anything happens to him? I’m out. Because that’s my brother. That’s Sammy. That’s my Sammy. If he gets hurt? I will personally drag his butt as far away from you and your demon crap as I possibly can and get him in a good university where he can have a normal life. Because that’s what he deserves. And I can promise you that.” Dean meant every word of what he was saying. He would do anything for his brother. And he’d do anything to keep him out of danger. Unfortunately, they’re whole life was danger. “Me, I’m a hunter. But Sam…” Dean nodded in the direction of the room he and his brother shared and shakes his head looking at his dad sadly, “he deserves more than this. But for right now, he’s stuck with us. This is his life. And maybe it will always be. Then teach him. Stop pushing him away.” Dean shifted his position to make eye contact with his father, “You owe him that.” John hadn’t said anything and he still didn’t. His gaze was curious with a slight flicker of fear and shame. It was that small glimmer that made Dean realize he had said enough. Dean’s voice had been slowly getting louder and he realized he was shouting by the end, his hands clenched into fists, his face red, his chest rising and falling quicker than usual. He set back on his heels, realizing he had been leaning over his father and standing higher as he spoke. Dean ended with a cold, “And of you can’t protect him, I will. Because that’s my job, and that’s my brother. No one hurts my Sammy.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before he raised a steely glare on his father, who’s expression had now changed to complete shock as if now the wheels in his brain were turning and he remembered the outburst and shouting. Dean heads for the door and almost reaches for the handle and stops. The memory flashed in his mind. His father’s right hand coming back in a fist. Sam winces and squeezing his eyes shut- waiting for the pain. It would have been right across his face… Dean turned around and stormed a few steps back to his father who for the first time, took a step back from him. Dean realized how harsh the look must be that he was giving his dad, the best part being that he didn’t even care. “So if you ever,” Dean said quietly, “lay a hand on him like that, like you almost did…” Dean trails off but his look says it all. His dad knows exactly what he means. Dean nods at his father fiercely, his chest rising and falling abnormally fast, takes another deep breath and doesn’t say another word. He turns on his heel and walks out, slamming the door behind him.Sam was sitting on his bed, literally twiddling his thumbs when suddenly the door opens and his older brother walks in. Dean looks mad and Sam had heard muffled shouting from the other room, yet surprisingly the majority of the yelling was Dean’s voice. Dean, who rarely raises his voice against his father. Sam stands up, setting his back straight as Dean steps further into the room and closes the door softly behind him. “What did he say?” Sam asked nervously. “He didn’t get to say much,” Dean admitted, smiling shyly, almost shocked with himself. “What did you say?” Sam asked. Dean crossed the room silently and sat on his bed. Sam, unsure what to do, stood there awkwardly, waiting for his brother to talk. Then Dean did something slightly unexpected. He patted the spot beside him on the back and Sam cautiously walked over and sat down next to him. “I told him that it was my job to care of you. And that I always would. And that I can’t have him throwing all that crap in your face about leaving because...I can’t lose you Sammy.” Dean looks down and Sam catches his eye. He’s surprised to see they’re filled with tears. Tears in the eyes that are always so fierce. Tears in the eyes that never cry. “I can’t lose you either Dean,” Sam said softly. Dean looked over at him, “You figured something out didn’t you? That’s why you told dad not to go outside? That’s why you ran out after him?” Sam nodded slowly, “I think they’re ghouls. I asked around at school today and the last two killings had been at 7 o’clock. They lead you out and then they take you. I looked up the blueprints of the town when I got home...and the sewers led to every spot of the kidnapping. So I just thought…” He trailed off and hung his head in shame. Dean bumped him with his shoulder, “You’re a smart kid, Sammy. That’s what I told Dad. I knew you figured it out.” Sam looked up hopefully and he smiled a bit, “You did?” “Yeah,” Dean said. He rubbed Sam’s hair, messing up his part but it didn’t look like Sam minded. “It wasn’t your fault Sammy. You might have saved Dad’s life,” Dean pointed out. Sam felt a little better after that. He nodded before they returned to silence. This time Sam was the one to break it. “Thanks, Dean,” he said quietly. Dean nodded, giving a quick glance at his little brother before returning to silence. As they sat there, Sam realized how similar they were. Their heads were both cocked in the same way, and they had both been staring across the room at roughly the same spot. Their mouths were set and their hands were in the same position: in between their slightly spread out knees that they were resting their elbows on. Sam nearly jumped as Dean suddenly got up from the bed and knelt down in front of Sam. His brother gripped his shoulders and looked into his eyes; Dean had always been taller so they were just about level now- Sam a bit taller because of the bed. Sam looked into his brother’s eyes, unsure of really what to do. Then Dean pulled him forward with a low voice, almost unheard, like he cleared his throat while he said it so it wouldn’t sound too affectionate, “Come here.” Sam gladly slid the rest of the way off the bed and wrapped his arms around his brother, one of the few meaningful times he got to hug him. Dean was still on his knee and he pulled Sam down into his chest, wrapping strong arms around him, one across his back, one cupping the back of Sam’s head, his hand calmly combing his floppy mess of brown hair. In his brother’s arms Sam felt safe and protected, and he smiled, burying his face into Dean’s rough jacket. They stayed like that for a second before Dean cleared his throat, gave him one quick squeeze and then straightened, holding Sam out at arms length and nodding. “No chick flick moments Sammy,” Dean winked. Sam grinned. Dean smiled, the anger Sam had once seen in his eyes fading away, and completely gone as he tousled Sam’s hair affectionately. “I will always defend you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you ok? Not while I’m around. Nothing’s getting to you,” he said firmly. Sam’s lip curled weakly and his voice was hoarse and scratchy when he spoke quietly, “Promise?” Dean looked him dead in the eye. Sam remembered how he many times Dean had saved him. Whether it was on a hunt, or defending him from bullies at school, or standing up for him against his father. Just now, stepping protectively in front of him as if to shield him with his body and catching his father’s arm before he could hit Sam. He saw the fury in Dean’s eyes and he heard it in his yells. So he believed Dean with all his heart when his older brother said, “I promise.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sam walked back with Dean to the car. A plan was already forming in his head. His heartbeat sped up and his hands were shaking but he forced himself to steady his breathing and act like everything was ok.
He casually stuck his hand out, getting Dean’s attention, “Hey didn’t dad once face a shifter in San Antonio?”
Dean shook his head, “It was Austin, and it turned out not to be a shape-shifter, it was a thought form. A physic projection. Remember?”
No. Sam didn’t remember. He knew it was a shifter. But he shook his head and winced like he realized his mistake and shrugged, “Oh, right.”
Then he tossed Dean the keys rather quickly with a short, “here you go.”
Dean snatched them playfully out of the air with his arm and bent down to open the trunk. Sam walked around the side of the Impala until he was out of side and put his hand slowly behind his back to grab his pistol. His fears had been confirmed. Dean had grabbed the keys with his bad arm. His fingers brushed the tip of his gun and Sam silently pulled it out, before taking a breath and creeping around the other side of the car.
He lunged out, cocking the gun in one fluid motion, “Don’t move!”
Dean looked up from the trunk and was slightly surprised to see the gun.
“What have you done with him?” Sam snarled angrily, only concerned with his brother’s well being at the moment.
Dean looked at him cautiously, his hands raised in surrender, a look of believable bewilderment on his face, “Dude chill, it’s me.”
Sam almost laughed with no humor and he grit his teeth and shook his head, “No I don’t think so.” He was ready to pull this trigger, but the shapeshifter was the only one who knew where Dean was so he couldn’t kill him just yet.
Sam forced himself to keep the grip on the pistol and he snarled for the second time, “Where’s my brother?”
Dean almost laughed and he looked at same incredulously, “You’re about to shoot him!” Dean put his hands out like he was trying to comfort him, “Sam, calm down.”
Sam kept the gun leveled and spoke articulately, “You caught those keys with your left. Your shoulder was hurt.”
There was a flicker of something- Sam couldn’t figure out what- that rippled across Dean’s face and Dean quickly shrugged it off, “Yeah, it’s better. What do you want me to do, cry?”
That was such a Dean thing to say. It made keeping the gun leveled harder for Sam but he forced his arms not to shake.
Sam repositioned his hands; they were getting clammy and shook his head, “You’re not my brother.”
Dean nodded cockily at that and put his hands up again, “What don’t you pull the trigger them? Hm?”
Sam gripped the gun, rethinking everything, but still keeping the gun trained on Dean- not Dean. The shifter. The shapeshifter, who knew where Dean was-
“Cause you’re not sure,” Dean said convincingly.
Sam shifted his hands again.
“Dude you know me!” he spluttered, spreading out his hands.
Sam shook his head, pleading almost, that he would stop making this harder, “Don’t.”
Dean stared at him for a minute and Sam’s finger was shaking on the trigger.
He saw too late. Dean’s hand was gripping one of the metal rods they had stored in the trunk and he swung, catching Sam’s arms that held the gun. The pistol fell out of his hands and Sam jerked to the side, trying to regain his balance but now there was a fist coming at him before he could even blink-
Dean’s fist caught him right across the head and instantly everything went black as Sam crumpled to the ground.Sam blinked, immediately rousing himself, his head twitching as he opened his eyes and curled his fists in panic. His hands were tied firmly behind him. He felt something rough against his throat and realized he couldn’t breathe properly, courtesy of the rope looped twice around his neck, preventing him from moving his head more than left and right. He tried to lean forward and all the ropes tightened. Sam felt two more, one wrapped around his chest and one around his torso. When he tried to go even an inch forward his breath was cut off and he took a raspy gulp of air before shoving his head up against the pole so he could intake air.
Sam steadied his breathing and had just began to look around, the rough rope making his neck raw. He could already feel the rope burns.
But suddenly there was a noise and Sam turns slowly so he wouldn’t cut his skin. His heart skips a beat and a smile almost breaks out onto his face. Dean walked in, meeting eyes with him. There’s something in the back of Sam’s head, a gut feeling that tugs at his heart and sends warning alarms throughout his whole body that makes him uneasy.
Neither Dean nor Sam talk as the older brother approaches his younger. Dean’s holding a long length of rope and he looks down at Sam, biting his lip in thought.
Then Sam braces.
He heard the slow suck in of breath from Dean and he leaned to one side, bringing his right hand across his body. He knows what’s coming, and he knows the slap is going to be harder because of the shapeshifters enhanced strength.
Sam squeezes his eyes shut, and finally feels the hit, right across the side of his face, causing him to exhale a cry of pain as Dean’s fist makes contact.
His head whips to the side, skin already bruising on the cheekbone. The rope had burned into his neck from the friction the whiplash had caused. Sam groans, and he shoves his head into the pole, biting his lip and breathing hard to deal with the pain from the blow. The shapeshifter Dean had casually walked away after the blow, not at all phased that he had hurt Sam.
“Where is he?” Sam asks through gritted teeth, “Where’s Dean.”
The shapeshifter sets the rope down on the nearest flat surface and rummages through a dirty duffle bag. He starts to walk over and gives Sam a smirk. The smirk looks way too similar to Dean’s usual playful grin.
“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Dean taunts, “I’d worry about you.”
Sam turns his head, his gaze following his brother across the room. Sam’s unphased by the threat. All he cares about is that his brother is ok.
“Where is he?” he snarls.
The shapeshifter turns and looks him right in the eye, “I don’t think you really want to know.”
Sam glares daggers at him, his eyes filled with fury, his mouth curling up into a snarl.
Dean breaths out a small laugh, “I swear, the more I learn about you and your family…”
Sam’s brow furrows and he’s about to ask what that means but then he sees the shifter reach down the neck of his shirt and pull out a necklace- the necklace Sam had given Dean when they were kids.
“Take that off,” he says weakly.
“Can’t,” the shifter says, fingering it the way Dean would when he’s in deep thought, “it’s how I access the memories.”
“You take it off,” Sam repeated, trying to lean forward but stopped by the rope. He swallows down a sob, “that belongs to my brother.”
“Yeah...well...” the shifter nods innocently. He pauses for a bit, grimacing and clutching his temple, “man, he’s- I’ve sure got issues with you.”
Sam pushes up against the pole behind him, closes his eyes as if that will block out his brother’s taunting voice.
“You, you got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I,” Dean spread out his hands and smirked, giving a little laugh that was way too similar to Dean’s usual matter, “I had to stay home. With dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own?”
Dean’s face screwed up with hurt and he narrowed his eyes, “But he needed me. Where the heck were you?”
Sam had had enough and he snarls, “Where is my brother?”
“I am your brother,” Dean smiles.
“No...you’re not him,” Sam shakes his head.
Dean smiles a bit, an unsettling smile and slams his hands down on the sides of the wooden crate Sam had been sitting on. Sam flinches, the vibration sending a shock up his spine from the pole pressing against his back. Dean nods, pursing his lips in fury, towering over his little brother who shrinks despite his will.
“If I’m not him, then why did you flinch? Is it to real for you,” Dean winks, “Sammy?”
Sam grits his teeth, “Don’t call me that.”
“Oh I’m just getting started,” Dean smiled. “Deep down I’m just pissed. You got to leave. I was stuck with dad. Heck, I did everything dad asked me to and he ditched me too. Left me, to watch over you. Always have to watch out for you. You know I would leave you on the side of the road if I could right?”
“Shut up,” Sam seethed, “that’s a lie.”
“You’re a freak. You never wanted any part of this anyway. You took everything from me…” Dean trailed off, standing straight again and looking down at Sam, “after everything I did for you.”
“Where’s Dean!” Sam bellowed.
The punch came faster than he had anticipated, and it hit him right in the face, slamming his head back against the pole.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long, long time Sammy. All those times I say I love you, or I’d die for you, you know it’s all a bunch of crap, right?”
Sam bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. This isn’t Dean, he reminds himself, Dean would never do this.
“Don’t say that to me,” Sam says, his voice cracking in an almost pleading manner, “Don’t you say that to me.”
“It’s true,” Dean shrugs, “you’re a disappointment. An annoying brat who tags along and gets in the way. That’s all you are, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”
Sam lets out a low growl that gets choked down by a sob. Dean smiles at the noise of success and he claps Sam on the shoulder.
“Well good talk Sammy. I feel like I got a lot off my chest,” Dean breaths a loud exaggerated sigh.
Sam is holding back tears that are stinging at his eyes.
“Sorry Sam,” Dean walks over and ruffles his hair, “Guess the truth hurts.”
“You’re...not...my brother,” Sam gasps out, trying to jerk away from the hand affectionately messing up his hair like his brother loved to do. He only succeeded in getting another rope burn on his neck and cutting off his oxygen when the rope tightened around his throat.
“Yeah but those words still stung right?” Dean winced sympathetically before breaking into a grin. He leans forward again, and Sam turns away. There’s suddenly a hand yanking on his brown curls, fingers twisted in his hair, forcing his gaze to return to his brother who locks eyes with him and smiles. It’s not a Dean smile though. And his eyes...don’t have the same look to them. Dean always had a warm look in his eyes, even when he was furious with Sam, especially when they had been younger, there was always a comfort and warmth to even his glares. These eyes were cold and that made staring at them easier.
“Did I hurt your feelings?” Dean sticks out his lower lip, laughing.
“What did you do to him?” Sam hisses through gritted teeth.
“Always worried about your brother Sammy...think you can protect him? We’ll see.”
He lets go of his grip on Sam’s hair and thrusts his head back, sending it smacking into the pole. Sam sucks in a breath and blinks back pain, glaring at the shapeshifter that is staring down at him.
“We’ll see what happens,” Dean says again, before he cracks his knuckles, “man this skin has its perks. This might hurt. Night Sammy.”
Sam lets out a choked cry, and the first tear falls. That was the biggest blow yet. He glares up at his brother, daring him to do it.
Dean brings his fist back and swings, catching Sam right across the head and knocking him unconscious, his mop of messy hair hanging over his eyes as he slumps against the ropes. When Sam finally regains consciousness he immediately tries the ropes again. He curses when they still don’t loosen and then the hairs stand up on the back of his head as he hears someone muttering. There’s coughing from behind him and then comes a voice.
“That better be you Sam and not that freak of nature.”
Dean. Sam laughs, relieved to hear his brother’s voice and know he’s ok.
“Yeah it’s me,” he says, still choked by the rope around his neck, “he went to Rebecca’s. Looking like you.”
He hears shuffling and then Dean’s voice is no longer muffled, meaning he probably got the sheet off.
“Well he’s not stupid. He picked the handsome one,” Dean teases.
Sam rolls his eyes, “Funny.” He turns his head and looks over at his brother who’s walking towards him, rubbing his wrists.
“Come on Sammy-” Dean glances at him, before he does a double take, realizing that Sam hasn’t gotten out of his ropes. His older brother’s at his side immediately, looking over the knots that must have been way more complicated than Dean’s.
Dean meets his eyes and his gaze flickers to his jaw- the spot where the shifter had hit him. Sam knows he has a busted lip, bloody nose, and a bruise, not to mention probably a concussion from how many times he hit his head or had been knocked out within the last couple hours. Dean reaches up to cup his face and Sam flinches. Dean recoils, his hands shaking with anger.
“That son-”
“It’s...it’s ok,” Sam murmurs.
“What did he say to you?” Dean demands, reaching behind him to undo the first set of ropes around his torso. Then he works on the ropes around Sam’s hands.
“Doesn’t matter,” Sam groans as the ropes dig into the cuts around his wrists from the rough burns. Dean winces, muttering encouragement and working faster, his fingers flying. When he’s done with that Sam reaches up trying to loosen the rope around his neck.
“I got it Sammy,” Dean says softly, and he undoes that one as well.
Sam gasps, falling forward and Dean catches him in his arms. Sam’s shaking and he hugs his brother hard, burying his face in Dean’s shirt, not at all caring that it’s childish. Dean holds him tight, protectively wrapping his arms around him, one hand gently cupping the back of his head.
“Whatever he told you…” Dean’s voice broke.
“I know,” Sam said softly. “Promise?”
“Promise,” Dean said, helping him up. He held Sam firmly by the forearms, holding him out shoulder length and locking eyes with him. Sam breathed a sigh, glad his brother was here. Dean always saved him.
“God Sammy, I’m so sorry. He jumped me and then-” Dean cursed himself.
“It wasn’t your fault Dean,” Sam said honestly.
Dean stabs a finger towards Sam’s bruises jaw and bleeding lip and nose.
“That is my fault.”
“It wasn’t you,” Sam protested.
“I’m supposed to protect you Sammy. Not let someone who talks, acts and looks exactly like me, heck basically is me, hurt you!” Dean yells. Sam realizes how angry he was. Dean’s chest was rising and falling rather fast and his nostrils were flaring. His eyes were filled with pure fury.
“He took me. Then he took my identity. Then if that wasn’t enough, he took my car. That little-” Dean composes himself, then he points at Sam, “but I’m not tracking him down for those reasons. When I put a silver bullet in his heart, it’s gonna be because he took my brother. No one hurts you and gets away with it. So I’m gonna rip his lungs out,” Dean promises. He takes a breath and then walks for the door. Sam was standing there in shock.
“You just gonna stand there looking like a statue or are you gonna help me beat the crap out of this jerk?” Dean asked.
Sam grinned, “Coming.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dean and Sam limped for the car. Sam ducked out from underneath Dean’s arm and grabbed a fist full of his jacket, slowing leaning him against the car until he was propped him up against the trunk. Dean grasped his arm weakly and nodded, clapping him on the shoulder. Sam gave him a small, supportive smile and then said,
“I’m gonna get our stuff, stay here ok?”
“Sammy-” Dean choked tasting blood in his mouth while he held his side with his other hand, “Be careful.”
Sam nodded, pursing his lips and giving him another small smile.
Dean let out a sigh, gritting his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut and pounded his fist into the trunk of the Impala. He immediately regretted it and winced, rubbing the smooth car that he thankfully didn’t dent,
“I’m so sorry, Baby.”
Dean took a shaky breath again and then spit out blood, wincing in pain. That last hunt had taken too much out of him, and one of the demons had gotten away. Dean raised a trembling arm and ran a hand through his dust coated hair, picking out a cobweb from when he had explored the basement of that shack in the woods. He heard a noise behind him and turned. It was his dad, limping toward him and Dean stood straighter and cut the look of pain off of his face immediately.
“Dad, you ok?” Dean asked, clearing his throat to stop it from quavering.
“Fine son. Just fine,” John said. There was an unsettling grin on his face. Dean tensed, knowing something was wrong. He froze.
His voice was weaker and he asked, “Dad?”
“Yes, Dean?” John said, about 2 feet from him.
Dean gulped, looking over John warily. Something wasn’t right.
“Christo,” Dean said softly.
“Too bad John had such smart kids,” he said, wincing slightly. His father’s eyes went black.
Dean’s yell died in his throat as his eyes widened. Before he could react he was picked up and thrown into the gravel. Dean hit the ground hard, rolling, and he cried out in pain. He staggered to his feet only for his dad to run at him again and grab his collar, holding him up as he punched him in the ribs. Dean coughed up blood and tried to block his next punch but a fist came whipping around from out of nowhere and hit him square in the jaw.
“SAM!” Dean yelled, before he was shoved into the gravel again. He tried to crawl forward but his dad dragged him back, kicking him in the side and flipping him on his stomach.
John straddled Dean on the ground and covered his mouth with a bloody hand, “Don’t count on your little brother coming to save you. Isn’t it always the other way around? I asked you to protect him, Dean. That’s your one job. And you’ve failed just about every time.”
Dean shoves his dad’s hand off of his mouth and growls, “Shut up.” He opens his mouth and yells again, “SAMMY!”
John hit him across the face and Dean’s head whipped to the side. He groaned, scrunching up his nose and squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to push the pain away. Spots were blurring his vision and Dean felt his bloodied and bruised face already starting to swell. He yells in anger and screams Sam’s name again, his voice breaking and cracking.
“And now you’re just calling him into danger? You really are a bad son.”
That did it in for Dean who snarled, fueled by anger and adrenaline as he received a burst of energy, bit his father’s hand that was trying to choke him, and locked his leg over his father’s back. Dean kicked down and surged up with all of his might, flipping his dad off him, a move that Sam had done on him back when he had first reunited with him. The move worked just as well and Dean made a mental note to thank his brother as he got the upper hand and in doing so, grabbed the gun that was on John’s waistband. He shoved his dad off him and kicked the ground to get a few feet away before he leveled it straight at his father’s heart.
Just then Sam burst out from the woods, breathing hard; he had been running ever since he heard Dean’s shout. Sam takes one look and his face turns to horror. But he’s not looking at John, he’s staring at Dean.
“Dean, what are you doing?” He shouts.
Dean glares at his brother, hoping his bloodied face and his father’s black eyes would explain for him. But when looks back at John, his father’s eyes are normal and he’s holding his side on the ground and putting a hand out, as if that will stop the bullet from the gun his son is pointing at him.
“Sam! Sammy, thank God, Sam, help me-” the demon pleaded with Sam, who immediately stepped forward to their seemingly hurt father.
“Shut up!” Dean seethed, “Sam, it’s not Dad.”
“What do you mean it’s not Dad?” Sam spluttered.
“It’s a demon. Sam, please, you’ve got to believe me,” Dean pleaded.
“Sam, it’s me,” John said weakly, “Sam, help me.”
“Don’t you move a muscle,” Dean barked at Sam, who heard the fear and anger in his tone. Sam immediately froze. Dean didn’t lower the gun and he locked eyes with Sam, “Sammy, trust me. Get behind me. Now.”
“Sam, don’t listen to him, he’s crazy!” John yelled.
“Sam!” Dean shouted, “Sammy, please.” He locked eyes with his brother, pleading. “Trust me, Sammy. I’m your brother. Trust me. Please.
Sam looked like he wanted to cry. His head was on a swivel, back and forth between the two. Finally he spoke weakly and hung his head, “I’m sorry, Dad.”
He hurried over, skidding in the gravel and helped Dean to his feet. Dean breathed a sigh of relief and then stepped in front of Sam protectively, determined to not let this demon hurt his brother. He still hasn’t lowered the gun.
The demon touched a cut on his lip from an uppercut Dean had gave him and looked at the blood on his finger before he laughed.
“That’s gonna leave a mark on your daddy, not me,” he said darkly.
“I’m sure he’ll manage,” Dean snapped back.
John smiled and shrugged, getting up from the ground. He spit blood out of his mouth and laughed his eyes turning black again as he cracked his knuckles and stretched out his neck,
“Well, well, well, it’s a nice family reunion.”
“Let our dad go,” Sam snarled from behind him.
John bit his lip, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He looked up and put his hand out and Dean heard a cry of pain as the air moved behind him.
“SAMMY!” He turned and saw Sam had been forced up against a tree. His little brother was shoved a foot off the ground with a strangled scream. He struggled, but soon his legs and arms were forced to his sides and Sam was breathing hard, straining against the invisible grip. Dean turned back with murder on his face, “Let him go!”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” John asked innocently, “You shoot me, you shoot your father,” he reminded him.
Dean snarled and cursed, desperately trying to keep his finger from pulling the trigger. He knew that was dad, but that was also his brother in pain up against the tree. That was Sam in pain. His Sammy.
Dean snarled calmly, “Let Sam go.”
John rubbed his chin, “No.”
He leveled his hand again and this time Dean was the one picked off his feet and thrown backward into the next tree over.
“Dean!” Sam yelled, straining against the grip the demon had on him that pinned him against the tree. He went limp after an exhausting struggle and a yell through gritted teeth.
John clasped his hands, “Well, that was fun. Dean, drop the gun.”
“Not a chance.”
Dean kept his hand gripped firmly around it and he shook his head. He couldn’t move; he was pinned against the tree, every inch of his body pressed against the wood, his hands at his sides, but his left fist was still gripping the gun.
“Dean, I don’t want to have to break fingers.” John raised an eyebrow.
“You crack me up,” Dean said, “pun intended.”
John sighed, “That’s right, Dean, you’re a tough one. Lucky for you, I know your weak spot.”
Just then Sam cried out in pain next to him. His brother arched his back against the tree and let out a scream. Blood started to appear on his shirt as a large scrape made its way down his chest.
Dean dropped the gun in horror, shouting, “Stop! Stop it!”
Sam gulped down a sigh of relief as John stopped whatever he had been doing. His brother glared at their father before he forced his head up against the tree and muttered, “That’s your play? Use me to get to Dean?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” John shrugged. The gun that Dean had dropped flew into his hands and he walked over to Sam.
“You get away from him,” Dean seethed.
“Nice try, Deano,” John winked.
He walked up to Sam and put an elbow on Sam’s chest, intentionally digging it in the gash he had just made. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and took a shuddery breath, undoubtedly in a lot of pain.
“Stop it!” Dean yelled.
“How’s it going, Sam?” John asked, twisting his elbow in the cut, making Sam swallow another scream. He finally let the yell out, gasping for breath after the strangled cry of agony before he shut his mouth, his nostrils flaring.
“Not going too well, huh?” Their father frowned sympathetically as Sam shook his head and made small noises of pain.
“Sammy?” Their father asked again and Dean felt his heart being squeezed by a cold fist that he had to watch helplessly. When Sam didn’t answer John raised his eyebrows.
“Is that how you treat your father?”
“You’re not my dad,” Sam said weakly, shaking his head and lowering it until it slumped against his chest.
John brought his hand back and slapped Sam hard across the face, ”Look at me when I’m talking to you!”
Sam flinched, sucking in a breath through his nose, his jaw more defined as he grit his teeth. Dean had to wince too; that was way too believable and accurate.
“You show me respect. Understand?” John snarled. Sam winced and closed his eyes.
“Now what do you say to me?” he asked the shaking younger Winchester. Sam didn’t answer. He took a shaky breath between gritted teeth.
“What do you say to me, son?” John demanded.
“Stop it,” Dean seethed.
“What do you say?” John yelled.
“Yes, sir,” Sam said weakly against his will.
Dean bit his lip, feeling his brother’s pain like his own and he growled, his hands curling into fists.
“That’s enough!” Dean yelled, “Leave him alone!”
John flicked his fingers over his shoulder and Dean got slugged in the stomach, his ribs aching. He wasn’t even able to double over because he was pinned to the tree and his hands grew into fists as the demon possessing their dad continued to taunt his brother.
“Sam, I have to say, I’m disappointed in you. First you left, and man was I glad to see you go. To get that pain in the butt useless, shameful, disappointment of a kid out of my life,”
“Shut up,” Sam pleaded, “Don’t you say that to me.”
“And I thought you would be out forever. But then Dean dragged you back in. And he doesn’t want you either. You’re a burden. You’re useless. You think he likes worrying about you every day, saving your little sorry-”
“I said leave him alone!” Dean roared.
Sam was biting his lip so hard, his hands in tight fists, so tight his knuckles were turning white. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut but Dean saw the tears slipping through.Sam was trembling, shaking his head, no doubt wishing he could clap his hands over his ears.
“Because you’re worthless Sam, you hear me? You got Mary killed, you’ve almost gotten Dean and I killed. Because you’re worthless.”
“I didn’t kill Mom!” Sam screamed, “I didn’t….I didn’t kill Mom.”
Dean yelled at his father, “That’s enough! Stop it! There’s two of us you know. And I’m over here you dirty son of a-”
“You want to know why I’m talking to Sam this time?” John said, at Dean’s side in less then two seconds. He was suddenly whispering right in Dean’s ear, making him flinch,
“Most demons pick on you. How Daddy doesn’t appreciate you, or how Sam’s the favorite. I thought I would, mix things up a bit. If I go for Sam, I kill two birds with one rather painful stone. Sam takes what I have to say to heart, and you...well you can’t stand seeing Sam in pain, can you?”
Dean snarled, “I’m gonna kill you.”
John ruffled his hair, “Good luck with that, son.”
He was back over to Sam now tried to turn his head away but their dad reached out and grabbed his chin, turning it roughly back,
“Not so fast, Sammy boy, eyes on me,” John digs the knife into his chin, and makes several cuts along his cheekbone and exposed neck as he talks, each one invoking a yell of fury and struggle from Dean.
“You’re a monster, Sam. You can’t protect anyone.”
Sam grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut again as the blade leaves a slit in his cheek.
“Sammy!” Dean roars before he glares at his father, “Leave him alone!”
“Can’t protect your dad, couldn’t protect Jessica, got your mom killed, can’t protect yourself...and most importantly, you can’t protect your weak spot.”
John taps Sam lightly on the nose with the flat of the blade, making him wince, “Dean.”
Sam looked sideways at Dean, and Dean could see his little brother’s chest rising and falling faster, his whole body shaking.
“You leave him alone,” Dean snarled. “Sammy, it’s gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok.”
Sam was shaking and he looked at Dean with fearful eyes.
“Are you gonna save him Dean? No? What are you gonna do?” John taunted.
“I’m gonna send your butt back to hell that’s what I’m gonna do. Get away from my brother,” he snarls.
John turns and glares at Dean.
“You call that a threat?” John snarls, getting up close and personal with his black eyes.
Dean growls back, “Yes.”
John laughs, dragging the knife down Dean’s stomach, “I’m terrified.”
“No!” Sam screams, “Dean!”
Dean lets out a howl as a line of red streaks down his chest and pain erupted throughout his body, nearly drawing him unconscious. Come on, Dean, he thinks, you’ve gotten hurt worse than this. The pleading scream from Sam hurts more than the blade.
“Stop it! Stop! Dad, please stop, please. I’m the one you want to hurt. I’m the one…not Dean...” Sam sobs.
“Sam, keep your trap shut,” Dean commands through gritted teeth. The knife splits his skin again and Dean lets out another scream through gritted teeth.
Their dad has a disturbing smile on his face fingers the knife and turns towards Sam, “One more round? Or I only need one alive...Dean, I guess it will just be you and me.”

“Dean…” Sam says weakly, his fearful gaze on his brother, begging him to save him.
“Dad! Dad, no. Ok? No. That’s Sammy. You can’t hurt Sammy. Dad, please don’t. Fight it. You’re stronger than him. I know you would never hurt me. And I know darn well you wouldn’t hurt Sammy. Please dad, it’s us…” Dean says weakly.
John turns, his eyes still black, “Good try, son-”
Then he knits his eyebrows in concentration. His hands clench and he cracks his neck, shuddering. Dean watches, spots threatening to close up his vision but he won’t let them because he sees Sam clenching his fists, cut up with nicks that are bleeding, wincing and makes small noises of pain. The whimpers he hears stabs his heart more than the blade had and Dean pleads for his dad to keep fighting the demon inside of him. Once he’s let go he’s running straight for Sammy. All Dean cared about was his brother.
Dean watches as the demon concentrates, as if he’s having an internal struggle and he feels the invisible grip on him loosen and he falls a foot towards the base of the tree.
“Come on, Dad,” Dean grits his teeth, watching as his father slowly gains the upper hand on the demon, and the blade he had been holding, wet with Dean and Sam’s blood drops to the ground.
Their dad opens his eyes, and they are no longer black. He’s still frozen, his fists clenched, his brow set in concentration. When he speaks again, his voice is shaking but firm.
“Let go of my boys.”
Sam falls first, and lands limp on the ground. Dean has to break the hold on him, because he figures his dad rightly used all his energy to break off from Sam. Dean finally is released by his own efforts, which he does with intense concentration of just moving his left fist. Once he does, it’s like a chain and everything snaps, and Dean hits the ground. He clutches his bleeding chest and runs for Sam, sliding to the ground beside his brother.
“Sammy!”
Sam weakly grasps Dean’s arms as he pulls his little brother towards him. Sam’s shaking and Dean brushes sweaty hair away from his brother’s face and cups his head with his hands as it lolls backward.
“Sam!”
“‘M ‘kay,” Sam slurs, blinking hard. Dean breathes a sigh of relief as he locks worried eyes with his brother.
“Dean, I can’t hold him long. Hurry.”
Dean and Sam look up and see their dad trembling, his knuckles white. John slowly sinks to his knees and Dean springs into action.
“Sammy come on,” he urges, pain flaring in his chest as he grabs his little brother’s collar and forces him upright. Sam’s gripping his jacket and he’s gripping Sam’s and they both stagger to the trunk of the Impala.
They work without talking. They both know what the other is doing and what to do. Dean had just grabbed a salt gun when he gets choked by his collar that’s suddenly yanked backward.

He lets out a cry of warning before his arms windmill backward and he’s thrown to the ground.
“Dean!” Sam cries out, trying to grasp his arm and missing.
John stands over Dean, and he smiles with black eyes before turning on his brother. Sam’s eyes widen and he backs into the car, his eyes flicking to Dean, and then to the trunk where there’s another salt gun.
Dang it, Dean thinks, must be a strong demon. Dean sees the demon reach for Sam and in that split second, he doesn’t think, he just grabs his father by the leg and twists.
“Sorry dad,” Dean snarls as he yanks his dad back by his pant leg, giving Sam enough to time to scurry around and continue to rummage through the trunk. Dean staggers to his feet and tackles the demon to get him away from his brother. Dean punched his dad across the face and rolled away, spraying holy water at him, hoping it would do something. He just winced and kept coming. Dean ducked the first punch and put him in a headlock.
“Sam!” he yelled, struggling to keep his dad in the hold, “Whatever you’re doing-”
The demon flipped him and Dean slammed into the ground with a small, “Son of a- do it faster!”
John elbowed Dean across the face and Dean got angry.
“You can be mad at me later, Dad,” Dean groaned. He kicked his dad in the groin and slammed his knee into his head before using momentum in a roll to get him off. Dean gasped on the ground and got to his feet slowly, wiping blood from his mouth and putting up his fists again.
John snarled and went for him again, getting in a nice uppercut to the jaw and then a hit across the eye. Dean reeled, his arms whirling as he tried to regain his balance with one eye already swelling shut. John took that opportunity to find the knife he had lost on the ground and pick it up.
“Oh no,” Dean muttered.
Then Sam came out of nowhere, just as John ran for Dean, tackling them both to the ground. The knife clattered away and John kicked Dean in the groin while they were down. Dean groaned but then he saw John elbow Sam hard across the face and Dean got angry, sinking his fist into his dad’s stomach. John turned, his eyes black and he raised the knife that was in his other hand.
Dean just had time to think, crap, before he brought it down.
The blade sank deep into the grass as a hand grabbed Dean’s collar and pulled him back. That was Sam, his hand firmly gripping a handful of Dean’s jacket as he yanks him backwards, and continues to pull, pulling him so hard with strength even Dean doesn’t have that he actually can stumble to his feet. John is inches behind him, and then Sam stops running, holding Dean upright, his hands still fisted in Dean’s jacket.
“Oops,” Sam says cockily, his body angled in front of Dean’s, but he can still see his brother’s smirk.
The demon looks down into the devils trap he just walked in to.
Sam’s breathing hard, his hands covered in black spray paint which is what litters the grass.
The demon laughs, clapping, before he raises his hands in surrender, “You’ve got me.”
Dean shoves Sam off of him with a quick, “I’m good, get off me,” before he becomes a big brother and straightens his Sam’s coat. “You ok?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Sam says weakly, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Good.” That’s all Dean says before he takes a step in front of Sam, eager to not appear weak to the demon, and also wanting to be the one protecting his little brother, not the other way around. Sam seems to understand this and he stands directly behind Dean’s right shoulder, his left one brushing his jacket.
Behind him, so Dean can protect him, but right there, in case he had a chance to protect his brother.
“Sam?” Dean announces, “Exorcise this freak.”
“Happy to,” Sam says, his voice still raspy, but he starts the Latin chant.
When John first screams, Dean just winces. It’s Sam who falters. He stumbles on his words and looks up shakily at the sound of his father in pain.
“Sammy? Keep reading,” Dean says firmly.
Sam miserably looks down again and continues speaking, his voice shaking this time. But the demon had seen his reaction and now the screams of pain weren’t just inaudible screams, but-
“Sam! Sam, please! Stop! Please it’s me! It’s your father, Sam- stop!”
Dean saw Sam crying and his heart hurt for his brother. Sam weakly whispers, “Dad- I- I-”
“It’s not Dad!” Dean yells at him. “Christo!” He bellowed at the demon who hissed in response, John’s eyes turning black.
That seemed to give Sam a little more confidence as his voice got slightly louder, but Dean had to put the nail in the coffin. He stood in front of his brother and held his shoulders firmly, “Sam, it’s not Dad. Eyes on the book, Sammy, I’m right here. Keep going, I’ve got you.”
Sam seemed comforted by that and his voice grows stronger, chanting the latin faster, as if eager to get it over with. He yells the last 5 words and Dean turns around, gripping Sam’s jacket and forcing him backwards. Sam has dropped the book and his grasping Dean’s arm with one hand and the back of his coat with the other.
John opens his mouth and screams, and a torrent of black explodes out of him like a fountain. Dean shelters Sam protectively and when the scream is finally done and the black smoke disappears, they both creep forward to the edge of the circle.
“Dad?” Dean calls, motioning for Sam to stay where he is.
Their father opens his eyes and groans, “Yeah it’s me.”
“Prove it,” Dean says.
Their father nods, “Good thinking. Christo,” he sighs. “Not a demon.”
He slowly gets up and steps out from the circle and Sam breathes a sigh of relief.
Dean steps forward and clasps his father by the shoulder, “Sorry, Dad. I got a few good lickins.”
“Hey I got you back. Nice eye,” his father says grudgingly, “You’ll live?”
Dean smiles weakly, used to those kinds of apologizes, “Yeah I’ll live.”
His dad nods at him and smiles before he claps him in the shoulder again, “Good.”
Their dad then turns to Sammy and his expression changes. It softens, it’s more gentle- all in all, an expression Dean has yet to see.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” his dad says weakly.
Sam smiles quickly and shakes his head, “It wasn’t you.”
Their father nods, “Demons know how to get to people. None of it was true.”
Sam nods back, “I know.”
Dean puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder. He knows his brother’s in pain, and he knows the words hurt him. He also knew his brother was smart enough to not let that show in front of their father.
“Let’s go Sammy,” he said. “We’ll see you back at the motel dad?”
“I’m actually gonna take off. There’s an old friend I have to check up on in this area, and I promised I’d swing by.”
“You’re leaving?” Sam said quietly. “Again?”
“You boys are doing fine on your own. We’ll be in touch.”
“We just saved your life. You just had a demon possess you and torture us and now you want to ‘take off’?” Sam spluttered, laughing with no humor.
“What do you think this job is Sam?” Their father snapped back, ”It happens.”
Dean realized that although Dad was more soft on Sam, they butt heads way more than he ever had with Dean.
“Typical,” Sam scoffs.
“Sammy,” John starts.
“Yeah whatever,” Sam said, walking back to the Impala, “We’ll see you around I guess.”
“Sam!” their father called, reaching to grasp his jacket. Sam yanked it out of his grip and continued walking.
Dean saw it in his dad’s eyes. He was about to yell at his brother, threaten him to come back, or make some parallel about Sam walking away. Dean put a hand on his father’s chest and stepped in front, blocking his view of Sam. In the background he heard the car door open, and then slam shut and then Dean knew it was safe to explain himself.
“He’s just overwhelmed, Dad,” he lied. To be honest, Dean was pissed too. Sam was right. What was their dad’s problem? Whenever they found him he’d just leave again. But Dean could bundle all that up and control himself. He could follow the order because this was his father speaking. If his dad wanted him and Sammy gone, he’d be gone with a ‘yes sir’ and a quick nod. But Sam...seeing him hurt and fighting back gave Dean confidence. His dad was full of crap and he knew it.
Dean was usually on the middle- well close to the middle. John may have think differently, but Dean always had Sam’s back. Never would he take his father's side over his brother.
“That was a lot, Dad,” Dean offered, “Don’t be too hard on him. You know Sammy, he doesn’t like it when you leave and frankly, neither do I. It’s a bunch of crap and you know it. But it’s just bad timing, that’s all.”
John flashed him a single glare that Dean just absorbed and then his dad surprisingly backed down and he nodded, gripping Dean’s shoulder, “Keep your phone on Dean. I’ll be in touch. And watch out for Sammy ok?”
“Yes sir,” Dean promised, getting a firm handshake and a nod. He bit his lip and forced a smile, “Always.”
“Good,” his dad said, smiling at him, his eyes wrinkling. He looked like he wanted to say something else but never did. It’s just a simple thank you, Dean thought, or an I’m sorry. But no. Neither were given. Dean turned and straightened his jacket before he walked back to his Impala. Dean was shaking as he walked back, his feet kicking up gravel, but he immediately controlled himself as he slid into the driver’s seat. Sam was fuming in the passengers.
“What did he say?” his brother said lowly, but still curious.
“To take care of you,” Dean said, looking over at Sam.
“Mhm,” Sam nodded, clearly annoyed.
But Dean looked and saw Sam’s knee drumming on the floor of the Impala, and his fingers clenching. Dean didn’t start the car yet and he finally sighed.
“Sammy?”
“What?” His brother snarled, misdirected anger coming off in waves that Dean didn’t take offense to. Sam backed down and returned his gaze to his hands- clenching and unclenching.
“Sam!” Dean said louder.
“What?” Sam spluttered.
“Go!” Dean said, shaking his head.
Finally Sam cursed, undid his seatbelt, opened the door and walked briskly towards John who turned at the sound of his younger son walking toward him. Dean couldn't remember any other time that Sam did this that didn’t lead to a fight. He would storm out of the car, Dean would curse as well, before he too jumped out of the car to follow his brother and run to defend him. Sam would be telling their dad off, calling him out on his flaws- something Dean never had the strength to do. Dean would always step in front if their father threw punches- which had happened as a little kid on more than one occasion. Dean had taken more than a few hits to defend Sammy, which left his little brother distraught he had caused Dean to be hurt but Dean was ok with being hurt as long as Sam wasn’t.
Dean couldn’t think of a time that Sam had stormed out of the car and he hadn’t gone after him. Except now. This time was different. Dean stayed where he was.
Sam and John met face to face. Dean couldn’t hear what they were saying but Sam hung his head, words were exchanged and John finally hugged him when they both had said their piece. They broke away and John nodded at Dean through the window. Dean nodded back.
Sam got back in the car- well after Dean locked it so he couldn’t open the door and then slid in, a little less angry than he was before.
“What did he say?” Dean asked.
“To take care of you,” Sam said, putting on his seatbelt and grinning.
Dean rolled his eyes, “Yeah, whatever, Sammy.”
Sam laughed and nudged him in the shoulder as Dean shoved the key into the ignition and stepped on the gas. They left their father’s car in the rearview mirror. A couple minutes later, Dean posed a question.
“Sammy?”
Sam looked over from the window, eyebrows raised, “Yeah?”
“When you first came out of the clearing...you had a choice. Me or dad. You trusted me. Why?”
“Because you’re my brother, Dean. I trusted you,” Sam shrugged.
“You trust Dad,” Dean said. It was almost a question. Did he trust Dean more than he did their father?
Sam nodded slowly, “Yeah, but…” He trailed off.
Dean didn’t want to pry so he set his hands on the steering wheel and set his eyes on the horizon. He didn’t say another word. Sam did though.
“If I had to trust one person in the whole world it would be you Dean. I had a split second to trust someone. I trusted you. Dean… I think I could live without dad. But I can’t live without you.”
Dean didn’t know what to say to that. He looked over at Sam, who’s turn it was to stare straight ahead. Dean smirked, trying to cover up his happiness. He failed and smiled, putting out a hand to ruffle Sam’s hair because he knew he hated it. Sam laughed and shoved him off, but he was smiling too.
“Can’t live without you either Sammy,” he said finally.
Sam looked over at him and Dean met his gaze, his eyes gleaming with pride and happiness.
Then Sam smirked.
“Thought the rule was no chick flick moments?” he asked innocently, earning a whack in the chest from his scowling brother.
“This...this is not a- no way. Shut up. No more talking,” Dean commanded, turning up the radio. Some nice ACDC was on with Shook me All Night Long. Dean blared it and the Impala sped down the road until it was finally out of sight.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Ok, thanks Bobby. Yeah. I’ll call you when we find something,” Sam said, flipping his phone shut. He turns to look at his brother and screws his face up in disapproval.
“You’re unbelievable you know that?” Sam asked.
Dean ate another mouthful of fries in the driver’s seat and grinned wiping his hands on a napkin before tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. There’s got to be a litter of them in the backseat. He’d think with how much Dean loves this car he’d clean it up once in a while.
Dean finally responds to his previous jab at him with a simple nod and smirk, “I know. Alright Sammy boy, now tell me what we’re looking at.”
“It’s Sam,” Sam grumbled, but he secretly smiled; he was warming up to the affectionate nickname his brother had for him. He ran his thumb along the edge of the Impala’s door handle subconsciously, a nervous gesture he had done a lot- proven by the off colored spot he had made over the years.
“Yeah whatever Sammy tell me what you got nerd,” his brother said, locking the doors and pulling out of the parking lot by the drive thru.
Sam sighed and grabbed the folder he had been stuffing his research in. Papers stuck out of it like a paper mache flower.
Sam took a breath and gave him a rough recap, “Town 40 miles from here. 4 murders in the past month. Every single person killed was a survivor in the fire that took place about a year ago at the town’s church.”
“Any survivors?” Dean asked.
Sam nodded, “One. A teen. And 2 weeks ago, his parents died.”
“Is the kid connected?” Dean said through a gulp of soda. He had finished his fries and out of the corner of his eye Sam sees him sneak a look toward his own carton, resting peacefully on his lap along with a half eaten burger. Sam looks at him and Dean turns to look out the window.
Sam rolls his eyes, “Dad marked the spot in his journal, but then marked it as cleansed. Whatever was here,he must have killed it.”
“Or he didn’t and now it’s back?” Dean suggested, “did the journal say what it was?”
“No. The pages of the book were ripped out,” Sam said.
“Odd,” Dean said, stealing another look at Sam’s fries.
Sam glared at him, “Don’t you dare-”
Dean faked a lunge and Sam spazzed, lashing out and spilling fries everywhere. Sam groaned, wiping pieces of salt off of him and his papers. He looked down at the mess Dean had made.
“Really?” Sam said angrily.
Dean let out a low laugh and scooped up a fry off of Sam’s leg before eating it and grinning, “Don’t look at me! I’m not the one who had a seizure over there.”
“Whatever,” Sam said, continuing to brush himself off.
“Continue,” Dean waved his hand, finishing off his soda.
“Can you stop eating for like 5 minutes?” Sam asked, setting down his notes to look over at his brother who was gulping down the rest of his burger.
Dean took another bite while looking right at him, “No. Hey, you think after we could go back to the store and get some pie-”
“Anyway, the kid is connected,” Sam checked his notes, cutting Dean off who grumbled something inaudible.
Sam looked back up, “he was a key witness at every single crime scene. And it says he signed up to go to therapy, but then his parents died and he pulled himself out.”
Dean slides his hand up to the top of the smooth steering wheel to make a wide turn, “How old?”
“Around 17 or 18? Somewhere in there,” Sam said. No matter how much research he did on this kid it all came up fuzzy.
“So...we’re up against a teenage physic murdering his own parents?” Dean summed up.
“Hey we don’t know if it’s the kid,” Sam reminded him.
It very well could be something else and this kid was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He knew Dean was quick to jump to conclusions.
Dean shot him a look, “It’s the kid Sammy.”
“You don’t know it’s the kid Dean!” Sam exclaimed.
“Eat a fry,” Dean said, picking it up off of the passenger's seat and holding it in front of Sam’s face, “You’re not you when you’re hungry.”
“I don’t want a fry, I’m already covered in them,” Sam grumbled, pushing his hand away and shoving his papers back into the vanilla folder.
Dean held it out for a little while longer and when Sam never took it, popped it in his own mouth, “Your loss. Address?”
Sam pointed it out to him on the map he snagged from the last store they went to, “The uncle is staying there for the next couple weeks while the kid finishes school for the year.”
“Well I think it’s time we paid him a visit,” Dean smiled and stepped harder on the gas.
Sam took and ate a fry while he wasn’t looking.“I hate suits,” Dean said miserably, pulling at the collar.
“Yeah well when was the last time you’ve seen FBI agents walking around in their underwear?” Sam pointed out, buttoning his suit in a cocky fashion. He stepped up next to Dean and shrugged, frowning at Dean’s look of disapproval, “What?”
“Nothing,” Dean straightened his stupid tie and sobered his expression before he knocked. When the door opened, he raised his eyebrows and took off his sunglasses top gun style, tucking them in his pocket.
“Mr. Winston?” Dean asked.
“Yes?” the man said, his tired eyes looking them over in slight annoyance, “Look I already talked to the police-”
“We’re not police,” Sam said beside him, holding out his badge, “We’re here from the FBI sir. I’m Agent Cole, this is Agent Grey, and we need to ask your nephew a few questions.”
Dean followed suite and held out his badge as well before flipping it and putting it back into his pocket. He then took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket, looking the man over with suspicious eyes. He wore a loose white t-shirt with paint stains and splatters. His light blue jeans had a hole in them on the side, that looked old since the thread was fraying. His shoes were old and torn.
“He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. I can answer your questions if that’s ok,” the man said nervously; he knew Dean was eyeing him.
“We’d really like to-” Dean pressed but Sam cut him off, gently nudging his foot.
“That’s fine sir.”
The man nodded then opened the door and he and Sam stepped inside the house. They took a seat on the nearest couch and the uncle sat opposite them. He clasped his hands, wringing them and asking sadly.
“What do you want to know?”
Dean looked around as Sam took out his notepad.
”Can you tell us what happened?”
The living room was medium sized, and rather neat; there no signs of a psycho kid throwing people across the room. There was a side table to his right with a lamp and the kitchen looked like it was in the next room over. The stairs on the other side of the room were dark and besides their banter, the house seemed quiet.
The man rubbed a hand over his face, “Freak accident. In the kitchen cooking, my brother slipped and fell, slit his head right open with a butcher’s knife. Wife ran down to see-”
“The records say she had a heart attack?” Dean interjected, snapping his head back to pay attention.
Mr. Winston nodded, “Just found dead on the floor. EMTs couldn’t revive her in time.”
“But there were no signs of heart strain?” Sam mentioned, his voice calm and collected.
“Medical anomaly,” the man shrugged.
“That is what they’re saying,” Dean said, staring the man right in the eyes. Then he broke the eye contact for a split second and asked nonchalantly, “Did they have any enemies of any sort?”
“You don’t think someone killed them, do you?” he exclaimed.
“We have to focus on every option sir, it’s our job,” Dean said in a monotone voice.
“Well there was no one in the house!” He spluttered.
Dean raised an eyebrow.
“Except Anthony of course,” the man corrected himself.
“And where was he?” Dean asked.
Mr. Winston pursed his lips and shook his head, “Upstairs. Poor kid had to walk downstairs and find them like that.”
“I apologize sir, that must be hard for him,” Sam said, talking before Dean could.
Dean nodded, “Yes how is he handling this?”
Sam could tell he was being slightly sarcastic but the man couldn’t and Dean knew Sam resisted an urge to shoot him a look of annoyance. Sam had always pointed out that they were already toying with people’s emotions enough, at least make it believable.
“Rather well actually,” Mr. Winston admitted, “He hasn’t opened up but he’s not losing control like most kids would you know? He is just up in his room all day...thinking, I guess,” the man says sadly, out of genuine concern for his nephew.
“I see,” Dean nodded, eager to get to the good stuff.
“It’s all very,” the man rubbed his nose, “it’s not easy, out of the blue like this. You know?
“Yes,” Sam nodded sympathetically, his eyes soft, “Well thank you sir, I think that’s all we need. We’ll be in touch.” Sam stood and turned, flicking his eyes to the door for Dean. Dean glared back. There’s no way they were done. No sir.
“One more thing,” Dean asked as he stood, buttoning his suit, “The fire that happened in this town,what can you tell us about that?”
“I don’t understand how that has any rela-” Winston started.
“Just humor me and answer the question sir,” Dean said firmly.
The man flashed him a look but then sighed as if he realized who he was talking to. He looked over at Sam for help, who he obviously liked better but Sam knew Dean would murder him if he said anything so he stayed silent. The man finally gave up and raised an eyebrow, “there’s nothing much to it. Church caught fire, 5 people made it out, Anthony was one of them.”
“Did Anthony change after the fire? Like become depressed of any sort?” Dean wondered.
The man recoiled as if he was trying to recall if he had. He slowly nodded.
“Why...yes, I mean, he was always a rather energetic and happy boy, until the accident. But I suppose what do you do when you see people dying around you. And now that the survivors have been murdered and it’s just him-”
“I can’t imagine,” Dean nodded.
“Well you give him our condolences will you, and we’ll be out of your way,” Sam said, tugging on Dean’s jacket, “Agent Grey, I think we’re done here. We have what we came for.”
Dean eyed the man as he gave him a firm shake and then they headed for the door. The minute they were out, Sam sighed. They made their way to the car and Dean fumbled for his keys by the curb to unlock the driver's door. Sam made his way around the car smirking slightly.
He heard his brother’s cocky voice, “Told you it-”
Dean heard Sam cut off and he looked up over the car to see what his idiot brother was doing now. But now Sam’s face contorted in pain and he then he fell against the car,
“Sam?” Dean asked.
He heard his brother’s pained gasp and in a flash he was sprinting around the Impala, catching Sam in his arms as his knees buckled. Sam slumped in his grasp, shaking as Dean slowly lowered him to the pavement.
“Sam! Sammy? Hey, hey, hey? What’s wrong?” Dean asked urgently, cupping Sam’s cheek and looking at his scrunched up eyes.
Sam let out a yell of pain, his eyes squeezed tight as he gripped Dean’s arms, falling into his chest, his fists clenched.
“Sam!” Dean yelled, panic setting in as he held his brother tight against him as Sam shook, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
“SAMMY!” Dean shouted at his brother, shaking his shoulders.
Sam finally jolted up, gasping for breath scrambling away from Dean, his palms slapping against the pavement, his gaze unfocussed, breathing hard as he sprawled out in the middle of the road.
Dean grabbed the Impala to help himself stand and hurried over to his brother who was in the right spot to get run over at the moment.
“What the heck was that? I thought you were done with that vision crap,” Dean demanded, helping his brother to his feet and pulling him over to lean against the passenger’s side as he inspected him, holding him up by the other shoulder as he tried to calm his racing heart.
“A-apparently not,” Sam winced, “I have demon blood in me Dean, what do you expect?”
“You scared me,” Dean muttered, “What did you see?”
“Well, you told me so,” Sam gasped out, his face contorting in pain.
“That was the worst way of telling me I was right,” Dean scolded him, glaring at his brother who was still trying to catch his breath.
“We need to talk to Anthony,” Sam said.
“I don’t give a crap about Anthony at the moment. Are you ok?” Dean said firmly.
“Yeah, yeah fine,” Sam brushed him off but Dean yanked him back, keeping him in his firm grip.
“Sam! Are you ok?” He asked again.
“I’m fine Dean, I swear,” Sam said, blinking once before letting Dean help him get into the car. Dean got him settled and Sam moved his hand away so that Dean could shut the door. Once he did, his brother slumped his head against it, scrunching up his nose- a gesture that Dean knew meant he had a headache. Dean pursed his lips and shook his head, making his way back around the car and getting in. He put the key in the ignition and looked over at his brother.
“Sam seatbelt,” he said.
When Sam didn’t move, just let out an inaudible groan, Dean sighed and reached over, grabbing the belt and locking it in place around his brother.
Dean wasn’t entirely satisfied, but it was good enough for the time being. Then he pushed on the gas and went to go find the nearest motel.Dean got hungry again about 10 minutes towards the cheapest motel he was told to stay at. He pulled off into a rest stop and that’s when Sam woke.
“Hey sleepyhead,” Dean teased, still slightly concerned but determined not to show it, “I’m gonna grab a bite to eat. You want anything?”
Sam took a big breath through his nose and stretched, squeezing his eyes shut before he shook his head and undid his seatbelt.
“Let me go. I need to stretch my legs anyway and take a leak.”
Dean knit his eyebrows, “You sure Sam?”
Sam rubbed his eyes, still a little out of it, but he nodded, “What do you want?”
“Pie,” Dean said thoughtfully, but at Sam’s sigh he rolled his eyes and grumply changed his answer.
“Sandwich is good. Chips. I don’t care. Just get food.”
“Ok,” Sam said weakly. He opened up his door and stood shakily. Dean watched him walk towards the door of the store without falling over which is good sign and then watched him disappear inside. After a minute Dean got tired of silence so he turned on the radio. A little REO Speedwagon came on with Take it on the Run, and Dean turned up the volume. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and waited for his brother to come back. Maybe he would bring him pie...Sam’s head was spinning as he went into the men’s room. He had walked the isles and picked out some stuff before he felt a pair of eyes on him. He turned and saw the woman at the counter eyeing him. She had slick black hair and piercing eyes and Sam quickly turned his back, grabbing a bag of chips. He set his stuff on the chair and headed for the bathroom, eager to avoid the feeling he was being watched. He shut the door and took a breath, collapsing against the nearest sink. Sam splashed water on his face and rubbed a hand over it, blinking and trying to clear his mind. His vision finally focussed and Sam took a deep breath.
“Come on Sam, snap out of it,” he muttered to himself. After using the bathroom he went to go wash his hands, and most of the dizziness was gone. Sam felt a little bit better as he went and grabbed a paper towel. The door opened and a man walked in and Sam gave him a small polite smile and headed for the door. They both went the same way and Sam laughed slightly, muttering, “Sorry.”
He moved the opposite direction and so did the man. Sam looked up. The man’s eyes went black and before Sam could react, his hand shot out, catching Sam around the throat and lifting him off his feet.
Sam choked, kicking his legs as he was tossed to the other end of bathroom. He hits the floor and slides to a stop, slamming into the back wall.
“What the heck-” Sam blinks and groans on the floor, and grabs the top of the sink to help himself stand up. The minute he does a fist sinks into his stomach and Sam doubles over, only to be held up by his collar and clocked in the side of the head. Sam goes reeling to the side, smacking into the mirror and he feels shattered glass cut up his cheek and blood spurt out of his nose.
He lands and the demon grabs him again, hitting him across the face and shoving him into the wall between the bathroom stalls.
“Sam Winchester,” he says, looking Sam over with a massive arm pushed against Sam’s collarbone.
“That’s me,” Sam groans, kneeing the guy in groin and grabbing the man’s head with his arms. He moves to the side and slams his head into the stall and ducks underneath, sprinting to the bathroom door. He goes stumbling out and heads for the counter where the woman looks up, rather shocked to see the state he’s in.
He grabs the counter and rasps, “There’s a man, he jumped me...call 911. Please-”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that Sam,” she replies.
Sam looks up and freezes. The women’s eyes are black too. He starts to stagger back and she grins.
“Here let me help you with that.”
She puts out her hand, palm toward him, and Sam feels himself shoot backward, right into the arms of the second demon who has emerged out of the bathroom. Sam struggles and lets out a yell, but in no time the man who is somehow a foot taller than him- Sam hadn’t realized that before, nor had he met a lot of people that much taller than him- and a lot stronger, has his arms twisted behind his back as the woman approaches.
Sam snarls and struggles in the man’s grip. She smirks slightly and pulls out a nasty looking knife.
“You even allowed to have those during work hours?” Sam says.
The woman smiles and gently touches the tip, “No not really. But for you Sam, I’ll make an acception. Where’s your brother by the way? Where’s Dean, Sam?”
Sam realizes they never saw the Impala, so they just think it’s him.
“He’s dead,” Sam said, eager for a chance to keep his brother safe. How long would it be before Dean came walking in though? How long would he wait until he would think something was wrong?
“Oh I’m so sorry to hear that,” the woman said with fake sympathy, her eyes gleaming. He knows she doesn’t believe him entirely.
“3 weeks ago. What you don’t believe me?” Sam asked, gritting his teeth, “I burned himself.”
“Who did it?” The woman asked.
“Darn, I didn’t get a chance to ask a name before I chopped it’s head off,” he snarled.
“Ah, I see. Hey, we can get off this topic if it’s too uncomfortable Sam,” she assured him, moving closer.
“That would be nice,” Sam leaned back into the man only to be shuffled forward against his will and the woman put a hand on his waist, the other hand still holding the knife.
“Let’s talk about you Sammy,” she said, bringing the knife up to brush a piece of hair away from his eyes. The blade’s sharp tip ran across his forehead, then down his cheek and under his chin.
“You’ve been, very busy I heard,” she said, before lowering the weapon and digging the tip into his stomach slightly, weak enough that it didn’t draw blood, but hard enough that it hurt. Her gaze flicked to his lips and Sam’s nostrils flare.
“Get away from me,” he snarled.
“Sammy that’s not very nice. Besides, I don’t think you’re in the position to make demands now are you?”
The hand on his waist tightens and she tugs him closer, and then the knife splits skin. Sam howls, feeling blood drip down his side and the woman laughs. Sam grits his teeth, arching his back, curling his fists in the grip of the man holding him.
“I’m sorry Sam, I just...carried away in the moment,” she said. She drags the knife down his stomach again and Sam let’s out another yell of pain. He hates how he seems to like his scream and he grits his teeth, arching his back and straining against the arms that held him in place.
“Can’t let you go just yet Sammy. We’re just getting started,” she whispers, giving him another cut, this one on his chest, cutting through the thin fabric of his shirt and laughing as Sam’s scream of pain. He glares at her, breathing hard but they both know he’s afraid.
“It’s gonna be ok Sammy. There’s no point in struggling. No one’s coming to save you,” she says quietly, brushing a piece of his hair behind his ears. Sam flinches beneath her touch and she grins. And then she leans in to kiss him.Dean had waited. He thought of every scenario that could have happened under normal circumstances of why Sam was taking this long. And when those ran out, he waited an extra 5 seconds. No motion came from the front door of the store and just like that, Dean had gotten out of the driver’s seat, opened the trunk and lifted the flap, took out a pistol and then went running for the door.
Dean walked up slowly and jiggled the handle. Locked. Dean climbed on the railing so he could peak through a small window near the top of the building and used his foot to knock on the door again. He smacked his foot against it louder.
“We’re closed!”
That was a woman on the other side of the store, and then Dean saw Sam, her hand firm over his brother’s mouth. Her eyes went black and Dean realized she was a demon. They were both demons. Her and the man holding’s Sam’s arms behind him back as he struggled. Sam’s face was bloodied and his movements were getting sluggish. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned beneath the hand covering his mouth.
Dean grit his teeth. Nobody does that to his brother. Nobody hurts Sammy.
The woman had a hand on Sam’s hip and she was holding him close to her. Her other hand was not only firm against his brother’s mouth, but there was a knife entwined in her fingers and judging from the look of pain on Sam’s face and how hard he was breathing, it made Dean sick to think she used it. He was pretty sure she did.
Dean hopped off the railing and then ran back to the Impala, grabbing a salt gun, some squirt bottles of holy water and a cross. He grabbed a can of spray paint and drew a devil’s trap at the bottom of the steps on the pavement. It was obvious but it was his best shot if he could kick one of them out the door and down the steps of the store. He heard Sam’s muffled scream of pain from inside and Dean ditched all the other plans of approach with salt and being tactical.
The scream shook Dean out of hunter mode and slapped him right into big brother mode. Someone was hurting Sammy.
Dean bounded up the steps and kicked down the door.
“Sammy!” He roared, leveling his pistol at the corner where his brother was being held hostage.
The woman broke away from Sam who gasped angrily, struggling in the grip of the man to no avail. Dean realized the woman had been kissing him and he snarled, even more mad that he had been when he first walked in.
“Dean!” Sam yelled.
Dean got a good look at his brother. Sam’s face was bloodied- a bloody nose, bruise on his jaw, a bleeding lip, black eye and cuts on the cheek and head. The woman had moved away from her makeout session in shock when Dean burst in and now he saw blood on Sam’s shirt from a deep cut. There was blood on the knife the woman was holding. Sam was breathing hard and he locked eyes with Dean, scared, relieved, and in pain.
Dean grit his teeth and snarled, “Get away from him.”
If looks could kill, both of them would be dead on the spot because nothing is scarier than the look he gave the 2 people hurting Sam.
But unfortunately, it was just a furious glare, and it was expected. The woman smiled sweetly and shot Sam a sideways look, “Ah, Dean. Back from the dead!”
“Let Sam go,” Dean threatened, “Now.”
“Or what Dean? You’ll send me back to hell? Oooo scary,” she teased.
“I’ve been there. You’re all scared of it,” he snarled.
The woman’s confidence wavered only a second and that was the moment Dean needed. He leveled his salt gun and fired. The shot hit her in the chest and she stumbled back, laughing after she winced and bit back a cry of pain.
“That won’t kill me Dean.”
“It doesn’t feel good,” Dean smirked. He fired again. She stumbled back even more and Dean strode forward. He lashed out, catching her across the jaw and she staggered, but regained her composure quicker than he intended. She snarled and tackled him and they both hit the ground. Dean elbowed her in the face and then spun on the ground, kicking her away with the back of his boot. He reached for his gun, whipping around and shooting her in the arm. She screamed and grabbed his leg, throwing him to the side and Dean sprawled on the floor. He groaned and coughed but it was his brother’s cry that got him to his feet.
“Dean!”
Dean turned and saw Sam straddled on the floor by the man getting punched in the face. Blood sprayed on the ground and the man dug his knuckle into the cut in Sam’s stomach. Sam howled in pain and the man started to grin, blood pooling from the cut.
“Sammy!” Dean roared. He started forward but got preoccupied by a fist to the face. He came back around in retaliation and punched her across the face but she just took him down with her, pinning him against the floor. Dean reached into his pocket and grabbed the squirt bottle of holy water and sprayed it right in her face, aiming for the eyes.
“Bullseye,” Dean snarled as she screamed in pain, yelling curses. He threw salt on her before he looped the cross around her neck, staggered to his feet and kicking her straight in the chest. She collapsed, retching and screaming and Dean quickly undid his can of salt and poured it around her in a circle before dumping the rest of the holy water contents from the first bottle on her back for good measure.
Then he ran for his brother, sprinting across the room. With a loud shout of fury he tackled the man pinning Sam to the ground and punched him hard across the face. Dean pushed off him, grabbed the shotgun he had dropped and let 5 rounds loose before finally stopping. The man slumped in the corner, groaning in pain and Dean knelt by his brother.
“Sam!” He yelled, “Sammy, come on...Sam!”
His brother’s head lolled in Dean’s hands as he cupped his neck. Dean’s heartbeat sped up as he looked Sam over.
“Sam! Stay with me brother, come on-” he pleaded, holding Sam against his chest, trying to sit him up. He wiped a smear of blood off of Sam’s face in fury, his other hand wrapped around his brother’s back.
Sam blinked groggily and then his gaze focussed on something behind them and he croaked, “Dean-”
Sam’s hand shot out and grabbed the bottle of holy water, and squirted it over Dean’s shoulder. The man who had been sneaking up, holding the knife in his hand, screamed in pain and fell backward, clutching his face. The knife clattered to the floor and Dean kicked it away before he let go of Sam with one hand, still holding him tight against his chest with the other hand grabbed the shotgun, sinking another round right into the man’s forehead. That should hold him.
Sam was shaking against Dean’s chest, coughing up blood, but at least he was conscious.
“Good shot Sammy,” he says softly, letting the shotgun drop so he could hold his brother’s head to his shoulder and hug him. He cupped the back of Sam’s head and hugged him hard as he slumped against his chest. Dean closed his eyes, gritting his teeth and wishing he could take his brother’s pain, pissed at himself that he let him go in alone. He got hurt because of him. A hug couldn’t fix that, but Dean hugged him tight as if it could.
Before it became too much of a chick flick moment he pulled out of the hug and roused his brother a little more, still cupping his neck. Dean looked him straight in his brown eyes and asked, “Sammy? You ok?”
“I think so. Thanks,” Sam slurred.
“It’s my job right. Take care of my pain in my butt little brother who gets jumped at grocery stores,” Dean grins sadly, looking a protesting Sam over once more before he allows him to try and stand.
“You’re rusty Sam,” he says, grabbing a fist full of Sam’s jacket and helping him rise with an arm around him.
“Yeah yeah,” Sam’s head still lolled against his shoulder and he too gripped Dean’s jacket for assurance, and he had it. His little brother was too tired and in too much pain to defend himself. Dean had just been teasing; he knows Sam had been taken off guard and not in his right mind.
“Hey it’s ok Sammy, I’ve got you ok? I’m right here,” Dean promised, letting Sam lean against him. His brother’s hand was trembling as it pressed against his side, blood dripping from his fingers.
Dean looked at the wound and then at the two demons who were limp on the floor and he snarled, tensing. Of course Sam knew exactly what he was thinking.
“It’s not that bad,” Sam assured him, but he knew how heavily he was leaning on Dean. “Yep,” Dean growled. He wasn’t going to let him get hurt again. Not while he was around.
But something in his brother’s voice made Dean’s anger dissipate. He saw how weak Sam was and how his hand gripped his jacket so tight. Sam needed him. He wouldn’t sit down and watch Dean beat up the people who had hurt him.
Dean pursed his lips, “let’s exercise these freaks and get home, ok Sammy?”
Sam nodded weakly, wiping blood from his nose.
“O-Okay.”
Dean wrapped his arm firmly around his brother, “I’ve got you Sammy. Nothing’s gonna happen to you while I’m here. Not while I’m here.”
“Mhm,” Sam mumbled, clearly not believing him.
“I’m your older brother Sammy, I can do whatever the heck I want,” Dean grumbled.
Sam looked up weakly and made a face, wincing a bit. He gave a small smile and brushed Dean’s shoulder, “You can’t protect me forever Dean,” he slurred.
Dean took Sam by the shoulders and looked right into his brother’s eyes.
“Watch me.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sam rolled over in his bed, groaning. He blinked sleepily and shoved his face deep into the pillow. Breathing heavily, he sits up and looks over at his brother’s bed, glancing quickly. Just as he goes to turn over again he stops, his brow furrowing, before he rubs his eyes and looks again. Dean isn’t there. His brother is done. His bed isn’t made; the sheets are bunched up and the pillow is hanging off the bed. It looked like Dean just got up and walked out. It wouldn’t be the first time. The day before, Dean hadn’t been there when Sam got home after going to the local library to do research. Turns out he had been hanging out at the bar. At least Sam was pretty sure it was a bar. Dean said over the phone that it was a restaurant. But then Sam heard a woman’s voice in the background that spoke sweetly, “Here’s your beer.” “It happens to have beer,” Dean added quickly. He could hear him drinking it through the speaker. Sam had shook his head, rubbing his temple. “Now if you would excuse me, I need to get back to work Sam. I’m on a tight schedule and I have numbers to get,” Dean had said. Sam had sighed, “Numbers? Girls numbers?” Dean faked offense and tsked on the other line, “You think so low of me. No. It’s an expression. Like crunch the numbers.” “That’s the expression,” Sam grinned. “Shut up Sammy,” Dean had said and then he hung up.So when Dean wasn’t there, Sam reminded himself that his brother liked to disappear a lot. He rolled over and fumbled for his phone on the side table. Once he grabbed it he scrolled for his brother’s name and clicked it, rubbing his eyes again to get the sleep out of it. It rang for a while and Sam was beginning to worry. He was about to hang up in despair, but then he heard the line pick up. “Hey,” Dean said. His voice was slightly on edge but then again, unless he was talking to a girl or talking about girls, it was always on edge. Sam yawned, “Hey. I was just making sure you’re ok- cause’...you’re not here, and it’s a little early for you to actually be awake and functional.” Dean didn’t laugh, or even chuckle. Instead he said, “Very funny Sam.” Sam thought he heard his brother’s voice break from pain, but then decided against it. Dean had cleared his throat and continued talking in a more carefree tone, “Yeah I’m looking around town for a bit. I’m onto something so it may take a while.” “Where are you?” Sam asked, keeping the phone in between his shoulder and ear while he kicked off his covers and grabbed a pair of jeans to swap his sweats with. “I don’t know the name of the place, but it’s getting all funky town up in here,” Dean laughed, but Sam knew his laugh, and it wasn’t that. This one was forced. But it was the word that made Sam feel like he had been punched. Sam froze, almost dropping the phone. There was a lump in his throat and a knot forming in his stomach. Funkytown. Oh God...no. He forced himself to stay calm and maintain his carefree and collected tone. “Nice. Well I guess...call me if you need anything? And be safe ok?” he added harshly. Dean spoke softer, “Yeah Sammy. You too.” “Alright see ya Dean,” Sam said, fake yawning into the phone. “Bye Sammy,” Dean said, his voice cracking a bit. Then they hung up. Sam immediately packed a bag and texted Bobby 3 words: Dean’s in trouble.Dean tested the ropes, peeking over his shoulder at his captors behind him. 3 vampires. He could handle this. Get back to Sammy...right? Come on Dean, he hurried himself up, what’s the plan. I’m working on it, was his response to himself. He didn’t have a plan. He hadn’t seen them coming. What he did see was the gun pointed right at Sam’s head that was buried in the pillow. His brother was sleeping soundly, unaware of how close to death he was. Dean had felt a cold hand start twisting his heart and he choked out a few whispers. ‘Don’t hurt Sammy’ He had seen the hand that clamped down over his mouth. He had seen the man’s trigger finger slightly tighten on the gun pointed at his brother when he didn’t do what the 2 men had asked. They had been so quiet as to not to wake him. Dean didn’t want him to wake up. If they wanted him, take him, as long as they didn’t hurt Sam. Wanting nothing more than Sas safety, Dean agreed the rest of the time, letting his hands be tied behind his back and letting them roughly shove in the car. He didn’t let them knock him out- that just happened. When he woke up he was tied tightly to a chair in the middle of a dark empty room, and his neck hurt like a- “Look who’s finally up,” the girl vamp purred, walking over and combing through Dean’s hair with her long nails. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, smiling, “Hi Deano.” “Hey doucho,” Dean grinned. He would have used another word, but for some odd reason he was in a rather good mood. She stuck out her lower lip, digging her nails into his scalp, enough that it was annoying, but not enough to make him wince, “Well that wasn’t nice.” “Sorry to disappoint sweetheart,” She chuckled, gently touching his cheek. Dean ducked away from the unwanted touch. “He’s got a mouth,” she raised an eyebrow. Dean nodded enthusiastically, “Everyone does. You know most people gag me because they’re tired of all my talking.” “Oh,” she asked, “but then I can’t do this.” She leaned in and kissed him, roughly grabbing his jaw. Dean pulled away from the kiss but there’s only so much he could do when the vampire lady was holding his hair and he was tied up. She pulled away finally and Dean laughed. “Never thought I would ever pull away from a beautiful girl kissing me. I think I found myself today,” he mocked. “Oh well good for you,” she retaliated, before she slapped him roughly across the face. “Passive aggressive much?” Dean grumbled, slightly shaking his head to clear the dizziness. The 2 men looked over at the sound of the slap and they started to walk over. “Angelica, be nice to our guest,” one said, hooking his finger in her belt loop and tugging her into his chest. They kissed and Dean rolled his eyes, looking away. “Get a room you two,” he called. The man looked up and grinned. “One with a sense of humor. I always like those. Let’s see if you still have it in a week.” “Oh I’ll be out of here before then,” Dean assured him, smiling fakely. “I really don’t think you will,” the man said, coming over and resting his hands on the arch of the chair, on the outside of Dean’s shoulders. “Oh yeah?” Dean played along, cocking his head, “and why is that?” “Don’t you want to know why we didn’t take your brother?” he asked. Dean tensed, his hands curling into fists. He glared harshly at the man staring down at him. “What is this, Jeopardy?” Dean snapped, but there wasn’t as much weight behind the retort as he hoped. If Sammy was involved, Dean knew to watch his mouth. He couldn’t let his little brother get hurt, especially not because of him. “We always have collateral. See, we know where your brother is staying, obviously. You make any attempt at escape,” the man’s eyes flashed and his lips curled into a twisted smile, “and we’ll kill him.” “You lay so much as a finger on my brother and you’re dead,” Dean promised, returning a twisted smile, “You hear me? I will kill you all. I will kill you all!” He yanked on his bonds, only succeeding in making his wrists raw from the rough ropes. “I like them feisty,” Angelica grinned, showing a bit of her fangs. “What big teeth you have,” Dean grinned, earning him another punch. “Don’t fight my battles for me Jack,” Angelica purred. ‘Jack’ glared at Dean harshly, his fist curled to give another punch but then he decided it against it and turned, his hand still on Angelica’s waist. He gently touched her chin, “He can’t talk to my girl like that. Where’s the rod?” Dean had been so focussed on the 2 vamps in front of him, he had lost track of the 3rd. He returned with a metal rod that was red hot on the slightly pointed tip. “That looks hot,” Dean winced, bracing himself. “Oh it is, I promise,” Jack grabbed it firmly and grinned, gripping it and stepping towards Dean. He flicked Dean’s army jacket aside so that there was only shirt. “Lovely,” Dean said through gritted teeth. Jack jabbed into the right of Dean’s chest, slightly above his shoulder blade. Dean arched his back, thrashing, letting out a yell through gritted teeth. He screamed curses at Jack, finally headbutting him in the face. He smelt his burned skin and it made him gag. Searing pain rippled through his whole body and he couldn’t help but let out a groan. Jack had recovered and he snarled, going back in for another burn. ANgelica had gone behind and pressed her weight down on his shoulders, keeping him in place as the hot metal scorched his skin. Then Jack grabbed a fist of Dean’s hair and yanked it back, before he gripped both sides of his mouth harshly turning his head- bringing the metal so close to his cheek… Dean could feel the heat coming off of it and he tried as hard as he could to lean away but being a vamp, Jack was a lot stronger and Dean closed his eyes, blocking out Jack’s unsettling grin and Angelica’s nails piercing his neck, just waiting for the pain. The metal touched is cheek ever so slightly, leaving a permanent scar through it’s touch of fire, and Dean flinched, tackling a yell of pain- There came a ringing and buzzing coming from the table a couple feet away. Dean’s eyes flicked to his phone nervously; he had noticed it’s absence from his pocket the minute he had woken up, along with a couple other things such as his knife, matches, and a couple other weapons. Jack’s grip on his mouth and chin was rough and Dean could practically feel his chin bruising. “You gonna get that? You should get that,” Dean said but his voice was garbled by the hand on the sides of his mouth. The third vamp, the one who had left to get the rod and otherwise had been silent, went over and picked it up. A smirk came over his face and he held up the phone for Dean to see. Dean glanced over since he couldn’t move his head and his heart dropped. Jack laughed, lowering the rod a bit. “Guess Sammy’s a little worried about you,” Jack teased, finally letting go with a sigh. But he backhanded Dean across the face the second he got a chance. Dean groaned, slumping in the chair and flexing his wrists, his mind whirling. “You have to let me talk to him,” Dean spluttered. Jack laughed out loud, “No way.” Dean was self conscious about how many seconds it had been ringing. This was his chance. He had to get on that phone. If Sam hung up or he didn’t answer… “Look if I don’t answer he’ll know something’s wrong. He’ll come looking for you and he’ll bring other hunters, I can promise you that.” “We’re not afraid of hunters,” Angelica spat. “Maybe not, but you’re afraid of the things they know. Like how to kill you, how to track you, how to wipe you out? I bet dead man’s blood doesn’t feel too good either,” Dean shot back. Jack was eyeing him nervously, as if debating whether or not he was right. “Do whatever the heck you want to me, just don’t hurt Sam. Now put me on the phone with my brother,” Dean reasoned. How many rings were left? Dean feared he had lost his chance. After an excruciating half a second, Jack sighed and hit accept, hiding the speaker while he hissed, “You say anything about where you are or what happened to you, this spike is going through your chest.” Dean nodded slowly and Jack stepped forward, shoving the phone against Dean’s ear. The other vampire leveled the spike, so close to the previous burn. Dean forced his tone to not sound fearful. “Hey,” Dean said, trying to sound nonchalant. He knew Sam could tell his voice was on edge. But he also knew he wouldn’t think much of it, because Dean was almost always on edge, except for when he was talking to a girl, or talking about girls. Sam yawned on the other end and spoke sleepily, “Hey. I was just making sure you’re ok- cause’...you’re not here, and it’s a little early for you to actually be awake and functional.” Dean would have laughed at the jab if it wasn’t for the circumstances and he gave a fake smile to convince the vampires watching him. “Very funny Sam.” He would have kept his tone straight but the rod gently brushed his open wound and Dean’s voice broke towards the end. He scrunched his eyes up before he opened them and glared at the third vampire who backed up a bit so not to brush his cut again. Dean hoped Sam hadn’t heard his break. Dean cleared his throat and faked a carefree and more relaxed tone, but inside he was screaming, “Yeah I’m looking around town for a bit. I’m onto something so it may take a while.” He looked up at Jack who nodded in approval. “Where are you?” Sam asked, and he heard slight shuffling from the other end. Dean took a breath, “I don’t know the name of the place, but it’s getting all funky town up in here.” He laughed to clear the tension of the dangerous feat he had committed. There was silence on the other end for only a second, and Dean knew Sam had caught on. His brother’s voice came back, and there was almost comfort in the twinge of panic. “Nice. Well I guess...call me if you need anything? And be safe ok?” Sam added harshly at the end. Those word had a double meeting. Dean found his voice to be softer and he swallowed a lump in his throat, hoping he hadn’t just sealed Sam’s coffin. He spoke gently, “Yeah Sammy. You too.” “Alright see ya Dean,” Sam said, yawning again, but Dean knew it was probably fake. “Bye Sammy,” Dean said, his voice cracking a bit. And then Jack yanked the phone away and hung up.“I don’t know Bobby,” Sam ran a trembling hand through his hair. Bobby, who was leaned against the far well with his arms crossed and a serious expression, had been an hour away when Sam called him. He had gotten there as fast as he could. Sam was pacing, his mind whirling, his hands shaking. Dean. Dean hurt. Dean seriously hurts. Dean seriously hurt because he couldn’t get to him in time. It would be his fault. “Someone must have come in while we were sleeping- “ Sam spluttered, “I don’t know why I didn’t wake up, did he put up a fight? The covers weren’t too messed up, or maybe they were, I don’t know.” He pushed a hand against his temple, afraid to stop his train of thought. He kept talking without even taking a breath. “He has nightmares sometimes so maybe that’s what it was…” “Sam.” Bobby spoke quietly but Sam ignored him, continuing on. “...or maybe he went outside and that’s when they took him but it doesn’t matter Bobby he’s gone and i have no idea where to look-” “SAM!” Bobby yelled, finally getting the younger WInchester’s attention. Sam snapped his gaze up, shocked and scared. Bobby wasn’t angry, but he was definitely serious. Bobby crossed the room in 3 steps and slapped Sam’s fists. Sam looked down and realized his palms were bleeding from clenching his nails into his hands so hard. “Gah,” Sam made a sound of pain, unsure of what to do. Blood. Dean’s blood on the ground. Because he was getting beat. Or hurt. Or worse- Bobby gripped his shoulders, snapping him out of his near anxiety attack. Sam was breathing hard, hyperventilating almost and he gripped Bobby’s jacket, looking at him with fearful eyes. “I can’t lose him again Bobby. When he went to hell and I couldn’t live with myself. I can’t do this without him- I can’t- I can’t lose him again…” Sam choked on his own words, shaking and hanging his head. Tears stung in his eyes but Sam blinked them away. He looked up guiltily, surprised to see Bobby’s face similar to his. “We’ll find him Sam, ok? We’ll find him. Dean can handle himself until we do. But pull yourself together ya idjit,” Bobby demanded, setting him straight and firm with a stare that was anything but cold, but more supportive and compassionate. Sam nodded, embarrassed and his cheeks become red as he straightened, taking a breath and nodding again, mostly to reassure himself. “We’ll find him,” Bobby said again, and that was all Sam needed to steady his breathing. He would find Dean. And he would kill anyone who so much laid a finger on his brother. But a small voice inside him told him that someone already had. “What was the job you were doing?” Bobby asked, “We’ll start there.” “We think vampires. Not sure yet,” Sam admitted, “We didn’t have much to go off of.” “Do you think that some of them found out and came for him?” Bobby suggested. Sam rubbed his chin. Something supernatural finding them before they found it? That hadn’t happened before. “Possibly,” Sam nodded, “So...so what we- we find the nest and take on 20 vamps? I mean if it’s vampires, that’s where they’ve taken him right?” Bobby shrugged, “Maybe not. You’ve killed plenty of vampires in packs or even individually.” Sam groaned, sinking down on the bed with his head in his hands. Bobby was right. Then a thought popped into mind. He jumped up and fumbled for his room key and phone just in case Dean ever called- or whoever was holding him captive did. “What Sam?” Bobby asked as Sam left the room and locked it behind them, walking briskly to the front of the motel where the office was. Also where they had a computer section of recorded footage from the security cameras. “Security cameras,” Sam said breathlessly, wincing from the harsh sunlight that peaked over the towering mountains that littered their landscape. “Smart kid,” Bobby grinned. Sam smiled weakly back, grabbing the handle of the door to the admissions desk. Then Bobby grabbed his sleeve, “How did you know Dean was in trouble anyway? He couldn’t have said anything on the phone call with a gun to his head.” Sam smiled again, sad and remianscent this time. “Funkytown.” “Fudging touch me again and I’ll fudging kill ya,” Dean snarled. Angelica laughed at him, dragging the knife over his collarbone, hard enough that it hurt but didn’t draw blood. Dean hissed as she dug the knife into a patch of open skin in his arm. “We’ve really bloodied you up,” she inspected him, bruising her knuckle over a bruise on his jaw, “no more Mr. pretty boy.” “Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Dean grinned. Angelia pressed the knife into his previous cut. Dean swore, arching his back and letting out a yell of pain. He called her a not so nice name and Angelica grinned at him, dropping the knife and yanking his head to the side, exposing his neck. “No-” Dean snarled. The bite was already there, deep and bleeding, and Dean had been feeling his energy being drained as he sat here. He flinched and jerked as Angelica leaned in but she had already clamped her fangs into place. Dean choked, blinking and gasping as Angelica sucked greedily on his blood. His head was slowly dipping and it would have fallen to his chest if it hadn’t been for her hand playing in his hair and keeping it upright. The cut stung and it was the worst feeling in the world. Dean couldn’t scream or yell, or even talk as he felt his blood being drained. He struggled weakly and Angelica’s jaw finally unclenched and opened. She pulled away and Dean gasped for air, coughing and trying to stay conscious. Angelica smacked her lips, and Dean could see his blood smeared a bit on his chin. “You missed a spot,” he muttered snarkily. Angelica gave him a sarcastic smile in return. Then Jack stormed in. “You little piece of-” he shouted, cutting off the last word with a punch that made Dean groan in pain and almost topple the chair from the force. “Use your words buddy,” Dean moaned, wincing in pain, his head reeling from the hit. “His brother’s coming,” Jack snarled to Angelica. Dean resisted a grin. Smart Sammy. Genius Sammy. Jack turned his glare on Dean, “how did he know we were here?” Dean shrugged, “Let’s think about the logic. You’re asking me, beat up, tied to a chair me, who had a simple conversation on the phone that you heard that gave him no information whatsoever, why my brother is looking for me.” Jack snarled, punching him again before he roughly grabbed Dean’s chin and yanked it toward him, “Yes, yes I am.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean shrugged. Jack was fuming, his eyes flashed in anger and he backhanded Dean again across the face. “Where is he?” Angelica asked, referring to Sam. “Dustin saw him 3 minutes away. He looked like he knew where he was headed. And that was 2 minutes ago,” Jack said nervously. Dean grinned, “You scared of my brother?” Jack glared at him, “Not if we have you.” Dean froze. He froze because he was scared. Not for himself, but for Sam. He knew Sam wouldn’t try anything if Dean was involved, same as Dean wouldn’t if they threatened his brother. “But, we’ll have fun with that later. We’ve rigged a trap out front. We shoot him once, maybe the shoulder or leg, ya know. Dustin may miss though, maybe clip his dead- I can’t promise anything.” “You do that to my brother and I’ll kill you,” Dean snarled, “I’ll rip your lungs out. You make a move on him and you’re dead before you hit the floor, do you understand me?” “Crystal,” Jack grinned, before he frowned, “but how are you going to do that Dean? You’re a little tied up right now.” Dean cursed, snarling at him and yanking on his bonds, “I’ll get out. You just wait. I’m going to kill you if you lay a hand on him.” “Noted,” Jack said, his confidence obviously restored. He patted Dean on the shoulder and Dean had enough leeway to smack his head into his ear. Jack stumbled back, clutching the side of his head, dizzy. “Go to hell,” he growled at Dean, baring his fangs. “Been there, done that,” Dean grinned at him. Jack swore before he pointed at Dean, “I’ll be back. After I kill your brother.” Dean opened his mouth to shout after him but suddenly there was a rough gag looped over his head, covering his mouth. Angelica laughed behind him as Dean struggled but he was helpless to stop the cloth from being tied tightly around his head and knotted in the back. She tied it so tight Dean felt the sides tugging against his mouth, already making it sore and the pressure it had on the back of his head gave him a huge headache. “Can’t have you spoiling all the fun now can we?” Angelica whispered, turning Dean’s chair so that his back was to the door. Dean cursed at her through the gag, and despite the muffledness, Angelica knew what he said. She frowned, but did nothing as to not make noise. Dean tried to think. Sam was smart. He wouldn’t have come alone. He would have called Bobby, or other hunters. And he wouldn’t just waltz into the front door, at least not unarmed. But would he have time to shoot first at people that were waiting for him… Dean yanked at his bonds again, his heartbeat getting faster. There was a scary quietness that came over the warehouse. Dean held his breath, trying to groan through the gag, to make any type of noise. Angelica was holding the chair still, her arms draped loosely over his neck. Then complete silence. A door opened...Dean heard it and he prayed to God if he was out there, let them not kill is brother. Not Sammy. Anybody but Sammy. Sam walked silently, holding his machete at his sides. Bobby, who had been hiding in the backseat was walking with Johnson, his other hunter friend, and his wife Maria. They had been searching for this same group of vampires for 5 years after their daughter was killed by one, so they were more than happy to get revenge. The vampire had seen Sam driving just as planned and thought he was alone, speeding back to the hideout. Sam had slowed down and that’s when the Petersons joined them. They had parked a ways off and walked the last minute or two, creeping up on the abandoned warehouse. Sam prayed that Dean wasn't hurt, or dead. He couldn’t lose him again. Sam got to the door and tried the handle. Locked. Why wouldn’t it be? He picked it as quietly as he could and opened the door. Holding his machete out in front of him he slipped in and checked his 6. Nothing. Empty and quiet. Too quiet. Then he saw the gun pointed at him and the timing was absolutely perfect. Bobby and Johnson crashed through the side door they had scoped out. The distraction was all Sam needed and he ducked to the side, running along the shadows before he tackled the man that was searching for him with the gun. The firearm clattered to the ground and Sam punched him in the face. The vamp was stronger than Sam had thought and as they both got up, he came barreling at Sam who had no choice but to brace and let him tackle him. Sam cried out in pain as his back slammed against the ground. The man pulled him up and Sam blocked a punch, having to let his machete drop as the man went in again, kicking him in the groin. When he doubled over, Sam clasped his hands together, brought them to the back of the vampire’s head and slammed it against his knee. He went down. Another vampire came lunging out of the shadows and Sam sidesteps, using the man’s momentum to thrust him into the wall before kicking him in the chest. Sam ducked a punch and lashed out in a curve, catching him in the throat. The vampire choked and hissed, showing his fangs and Sam slammed him into the wall again before he grabbed his collar and flung him to the floor. The vampire got to his feet slowly but Sam was ready, punching him twice, once in the face and dealing the finally blow across the head. The man cried out, his snarl cut short, and he fell. Sam staggered back, his fists raised as the man crumpled. After making sure he was knocked out, (Sam kicked him once across the head to make sure) he bent down to grab his machete from off the floor. Once giving teh signal to Bobby to finish the vamp off and continued forward, his eyes on the room in front of him with the closed door. Dean. Sam was sure Dean was in there. It hurt being so close to his brother, yet so far. Sam turned around, his eyes scanning the shadows for movement. He heard the door open and didn’t turn around quick enough. A gun shot sounded.Dean was breathing hard, his hands in tight fists, still trying to get out of his bonds, but only succeeding in digging into his already raw wrists. Angelica was trying to not to laugh at Dean’s disparity. He heard commotion, and realized that Sam (or if there was someone with him) was taking on all of the vampires at once. Sam was a good fighter, almost as good as Dean, (although he would never admit it), but he wasn’t that good. Dean yanked on his bonds again, trying to jostle the chair and he tried to scream through the gag. Angelica put pressure on his shoulders and rested her chin on his head. Dean shook her off, cussing at her again. There came more commotion and Dean was helpless. He was thrashing, yanking on the chair. Then there came a yell. It sounded a lot like Jack and Angelica froze, snapping up. Angelica reached behind her and pulled out her gun, “I’m finishing your precious Sammy,” she snarled. “NO!” Dean yelled through the gag. He cussed, biting down on the gag hard trying to get it off, at the same time lunging forward toward her. He thrashed, he yelled, but it did nothing. Angelica ruthlessly backhanded Dean with the gun but even that didn’t stop his struggling. She smiled sweetly, her eyes flashing with fury and waved, silently creeping over to the door and slipping out. Dean strained on his bonds, letting out a loud yell. And then there was a gunshot. And a loud thud. Dean screamed again, but this one was our of fear, despair, anger, and disbelief. He let out a yell and yanked on his bonds, tears in his eyes. He felt like he had been shot himself. Everything had stopped. No. That couldn’t have been Sam. No. Sam couldn’t be dead. Dean was thrashing, choking on his own sucked in breath and sobs that had welled up in his throat. Tears were spilling over his cheeks and he cursed, letting out another yell. His voice broke and Dean was yanking on his ropes. Then the door opened and Dean turned his head as far as he could, ready to kill whoever walked in as revenge for killing his brother- the only that mattered to him. The only thing he lived for. But instead Sam stood in the doorway, leaning heavily against the wall, a long stream of blood trickling from his head and a busted lip. No gunshot wound. A bloody machete was in his hand. Dean tried talking through the cloth in his mouth, and his face flooded with relief. He felt like a million pounds had been lifted off his chest. He groaned through the gag, blinking tears away and he jerked in the chair as if to get to his brother. Sam stumbled forward, clapping him on his good shoulder. Having the physical touch calmed Dean down tremendously. “God...what did they do to you?” Sam said softly. His voice broke and Sam’s gaze was full of pain, guilt, and regret. He must be staring at Dean’s face, bloodied and bruised- his lip busted, a bleeding nose, cut on his head and black eye. And of course the shoulder, staining his shirt red, the fabric almost fusing with his skin, and the bite on his neck. But he couldn’t worry about that right now. Dean rolled his eyes and tried to speak through the gag again, but it just came out in grunts. He yanked on his left wrist, signalling for Sam to untie him and his brother obeyed, groaning in pain as he sank to his knees and started tugging at his brother’s bonds. “Hey easy Dean, I've got you,” Sam sighed contently. He sounded exhausted, his fingers fumbling with the tight ropes. Dean’s heart hurt and the minute the ropes slipped off his left hand he ripped his hand away from the chair arm and fumbled with the ropes keeping his right hand in place. Not caring how rough he was and how it just caused more cuts in his wrists, he yanked them off before he reached up and found the knot of the gag with his fingers, tugging it off harshly and whipping it down. He left it drop, taking a deep breath and felt his ankles release. Sam was still crouched and Dean lunged for his brother, grabbing his jacket in both fists and pulling him to his feet. Sam groaned in pain, wincing as he clasped his brother’s jacket back. Dean was breathing hard, just so relieved to see him, and he cupped Sam’s cheek in his hands, inspecting him, finding a cut on Sam’s head was a little more severe than he thought. Dean glared at Sam and Sam gave him a weak smile. Dean’s glad he got to see his brother’s smile again. “I-” Dean curled his hand into a fist in his brother’s jacket, speaking angrily, “thought I lost you.” “I’m ok Dean,” Sam promised before he smiled again, stronger than the last time, “and hey don’t steal my thunder. I saved you for once.” “Yea you did Sammy,” Dean said proudly. They stood across from each other, nodding, for a good 2 seconds, briefly meeting each other’s eyes. Dean's hand stayed on Sam's shoulder and cupped his neck, his big brother instincts taking over as he realized Sammy was hurt. “Come here,” Dean said roughly, after he flicked a nervous gaze around and he tugged his brother toward him, pulling Sam into a hug. Sam hugged him back, breathing just as fast as Dean was. Dean held his brother like he never wanted to let him go again. He wanted to stay there, where he could protect him and keep him safe, forever. “No chic flick moments Sammy,” Dean reminded him, clapping him on the back and clearing his throat as they pulled away. Sam grinned slightly. Dean locked eyes with him and then nodded, “Thanks Sammy. Forget anything I’ve ever said- I’m happy to see you.” “Was that a thank you?” Sam said, raising an eyebrow. “I would punch you if I didn’t have a bad shoulder,” Dean snarled, but there was no anger to it. “You’re welcome,” Sam said. He and Dean locked eyes and had an understanding. Their father had taught them to be tough, and serious. Some of the things that were said would be considered sappy if said out loud. But by the end of the telepathic conversation, both Dean and Sam knew that they would always be there to save the other, and that they would not hesitate to die for each other. Dean would protect Sam at all costs. No matter what.Sam clasped Dean on his good shoulder and tried to hook it around his neck to support him. Dean whacked his hand and glared at him. “I’m good, get off.” “Dean,” Sam said firmly. He knew his brother was hurting but wouldn’t show it. Dean was more concerned with him than himself. For once, he had to take care of him. Dean avoided his glare but Sam persisted, not blinking in case he looked up. Sam won the staring contest and Dean sighed, holding out his arm, allowing Sam to hook it over his shoulders and support him as they limped out of that room. They passed the dead nest that Bobby and the 2 hunters had made a mess of and finally came to the corpse of Angelica, a bullet hole in her decapitated head. Dean stopped, putting two and two together. Sam had shot her and then went in for the kill. “Funkytown,” Dean muttered and his fist curled, gripping Sam's jacket tighter as if he didn't want to lose him. Sam grinned, adjusting his grip on his brother, pulling him closer so he could take more of his weight. “Funkytown,” he agreed. As long as he Dean, he would be just fine.