Retribution and Breaking Points Chapter 5/5
TITLE: Retribution and Breaking Points
RATING: NC-17
CHAPTER: 5/5
WORD COUNT: This chapter: 3841, Whole Story: 14748
DISCLAIMER: Don't own them, only playing with them
SUMMARY: When A Drink and a pool game turn into retribution, Sam must race against time to find his brother.
Well, here it is. Final chapter. Let me know what you think. There is a sequel.
Sam was up as dawn started. As the sun’s rays had barely started to warm the earth, Sam repeated the previous morning’s routine and was back in the Impala, tearing through the streets of this little town before 7AM. Dean was dying. Sam didn’t know how he knew, he just did. Dean was dying so Sam didn’t have time to waste. He had 5 more back roads to search and he prayed that he would find Dean, still breathing, at the end of one of them.
********
Dean woke to his body being hauled upright. His arms were once again chained and he was roughly picked up and hung from that damn hook again. He couldn’t breathe properly; it hurt too much to do it. A shallow breath was all his battered body could take and even that was difficult. Dean’s vision swam as he opened his eyes. He could see her, touching things that were on the table. He could faintly hear someone moving around behind him. He knew that they were tired of playing games. He knew that this time they were going to break him, permanently. Sophia hadn’t even turned around when he felt the burning of the hot poker against his arm, and he let out a scream. When he said he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory he didn’t mean this. He didn’t care anymore, didn’t want to be brave. Sophia moved and he got a good look at her toys. His heart sank. They weren’t going to kill him, at least, not outright. They were going to torture him until he couldn’t take it anymore. They were going to torture him until his body gave in and he died.
He felt the chills racking his body. He nearly laughed out loud. With everything that was about to happen, and had happened, he was worried about the fact that he had a fever. He knew that, even with a fever as high as the one he had, it unfortunately wouldn’t kill him before they were through with him. Sophia turned to him, holding the hunting knife. She smiled at him before handing it to whoever stood behind him. He felt the tip of it rest at the base of his neck, directly above his spine, then felt it slice into his flesh, following the line of his spine right down to his tailbone. He felt the warmth of his blood trickle down his back. He knew that they were only toying with him. The cuts weren’t going to be deep, just enough to bleed a little, to hurt a lot. They wouldn’t even scar. Dean felt her slice just above the waistband of his jeans on his stomach. He moaned in pain this time, too tired to yell, to hoarse to scream. He felt them carve him up until he was almost ready to pass out. Then they stopped.
He let his eyes slipped closed in the brief respite from the torture being inflicted on his battered body. He could feel the pull of the darkness waiting for him, and he hoped against everything else, that this time when the darkness took him, it would be the last time. Sorry Sammy, Dean thought, I tried. I tried to fight, tried not to give in, but it’s so damn hard to keep doing this. I’m so tired Sammy. You’ll be ok; you can go back to school, go back to normal. Find another girl; get your white picket fence and your 2.5 kids with the family dog. Be the hotshot lawyer you always wanted me. You never needed me anyway. You could always look after yourself; it was me that needed to look after you. Only because I never really knew anything else. I hope you’ll forgive me kiddo, if I’m not here when you find me. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that Sam would find me, even after everything the hallucinations told him. He knew, in the light of day, with his rational thoughts overriding the emotional ones, that that’s what they really were; his worst fears come to life in the form of hallucinations. He knew that the water he was given had to have something in it, but when that was all you were given to drink, and stomaching food was out of the question, hallucinations were, really, the best of the worst. Dean knew that Sam would find him; it was just a matter of when, and if his baby brother would find him fast enough.
He breathed a sigh of relief, just before he felt the scorching pain of the fire poker in his back. He felt one on his left arm, just down from the other one; he felt them on his chest, on his stomach. He writhed from the pain and the last thing Dean heard was Sophia’s cold laugh as he slipped into the awaiting darkness.
********
Sam had searched every back road he could find. Not one of them had churches, or even remains of churches. Sam had hit a brick wall. He was lost, he didn’t know what to do. So he drove. He drove up and down every street this little town had, hoping to find what he was searching for.
********
Dean woke to a vision of Sam staring at him, smirking. His lips twisted in a way Sam’s should never be. “Nice to see you finally found your potential Dean. How’s it feel to know you’re only good as a whipping boy?” Sam’s laugh echoed off the walls as he disappeared, morphing into his father. “We’ll, you’re all tied up, aren’t you boy. Maybe this is how I should have punished you as a kid. Seems to work better than making you run 10 miles.” His father morphed into his mother. “Mistake,” she whispered to him. “Never should have happened. Didn’t need you, I had Sam.” Dean closed his eyes against the images, but he couldn’t block out the noises. They just layered on top of one another, until one word was echoing around his head, yelled by 3 different voices: “WORTHLESS!”
********
Finally Sam was travelling down a dirt back road, leading away from town. He’d clearly missed it the first time he’d been passed it, and nearly missed it again. It was nearing 6pm, and the sun was sinking on the horizon. Sam knew it was stupid to do this in the dark, but he had to get to Dean. He followed the road, slowly because Dean would kill him if he got scratches on his baby, for about 3 miles, finally coming up on an abandoned church. Sam knew in his gut that this was the place. It was dark and foreboding, the quickly approaching night not helping with the atmosphere. Why do all the freaks come out at night? Sam thought as he pulled the car off the dirt road, into a grove of trees, hiding it from view. The closer he got to the church, the more his instincts screamed at him that Dean was in there. He quickly, and silently, got out of the car, taking care in closing the door in an attempt to stop the normally comforting squeak, and rushed to the trunk, pulling out salt, holy water, Dean’s pistol, his own pistol, and a few extra rounds of silver bullets. He quietly closed the trunk, and on silent feet, ran through the forest until the church was in sight again. He held his breath as a woman, maybe in her late 20’s, and a man came out of the building. The man was huge. He had at least 6 inches on Sam, and was probably twice as wide. All muscle too. Dean really is good if he managed to do damage to someone that size, Sam thought as he watched the hulk get into a truck and drive away, and the woman turned and walked back into the church. Sam waited a full 5 minutes, making sure they weren’t coming back, before running from his cover towards the building. He had to get his brother out.
He quietly searched the outside of the building, noticing a window at ground level. Sam dropped onto his stomach and inched his way toward the window. He wanted to see what was inside, but he didn’t want to be seen. What he saw, when he finally got close enough, took his breath away. Dean was hanging on a hook, like a piece of meat, his hands chained together above his head. He was alone in the room. Hold on Dean Sam thought as he stood up again. I’m going to get you out. Quickly, and on silent feet, Sam rounded the side of the church, stopping at the front doors. He sent up a silent prayer to whoever had the unfortunate job of looking out for the Winchester’s, thanking them for letting the woman leave the doors open just enough for Sam to slip through them. He quietly made his way through the doors and into the church. Dean was obviously in a basement, now Sam just had to work out how to get to it. Usually there was a door in a back room that led down to the basement. Sam just had to find it.
********
Dean groaned as his shoulders once again protested holding his weight. This time is wasn’t long before he was unhooked and thrown to the ground. He didn’t even fight back this time. His family hated him, thought he was a mistake and a failure. What point was there in fighting back? Maybe this way she’d kill him quick. He watched with eyes at half mast, as she circled around him. She was toying with him, telling him how Sam must really hate him; that he hadn’t even been looking for Dean. Dean didn’t really care too much anymore, so he tuned her words out. He thought he saw movement behind her, but put it down to the pit-bull of a bodyguard that had pulled him from the hook. He thought he heard the sound of a struggle and then of something heavy hitting the ground, but put it down to hallucinations.
“So what do you think Dean, should I kill you slow, or fast?” Sophia purred. “I mean, it’s not like there’s anyone to hear you scream, and even if there was, it’s not like they’d care.” She laughed coldly, eyes dancing with hatred, sparkling with glee at the broken man laid out on the ground before her.
Dean thought he heard an answering voice before the sound of a gun firing and Sophia dropped to the ground in front of him, before passing out once again.
********
Sam made his way to the back of the church, making sure not to alert anyone to his presence. He made it to what looked to be a kitchen of some sort when he thought he heard voices. He pressed himself up against the wall, barely breathing, slowing the pounding heartbeat he could feel in his head. He heard it again, the sound of voices, this time accompanied by the sound of metal against metal. Then he heard something drop to the ground. He spied a slightly open door. He made his way over to it, spying a set of stone steps, leading to what he presumed to be the basement. As he silently made his way down the steps he heard the woman’s voice taunting Dean. He thought he heard a whimper. That can’t be Dean, can it? Dean doesn’t make that kind of noise. He’s too strong to make that kind of noise. As Sam made it to the bottom of the steps he noticed another figure leaning against the wall. Another bodyguard? Sam wondered as he drew nearer to him. He was almost on him when the bodyguard turned, spying Sam. Sam reacted instantly, a few punches and the guy was rendered unconscious. Sam lowered him down to the ground carefully, making sure no noise was made that could alert anyone, ensuring no more pain was inflicted on his brother. He heard the woman’s voice clearly now, her icy tone chilling Sam to the bone. He could see Dean curled up in a heap at her feet.
“I mean, it’s not like there’s anyone to hear you scream, and even if there was, it’s not like they’d care.” Sam heard her taunt. He stepped through the door, raising his pistol filled with silver rounds as he did so.
“Yeah, actually there is.” He said before firing off 3 shots. He hit her twice in the chest, once in the head. He cautiously made his way over to Dean. His breath caught in his throat - Dean wasn’t moving.
“No, no, no, no. Dean wake up,” Sam whispered as he took in Dean’s battered body. The burns, and the cuts and bruises. He couldn’t see his back but was sure it would be just as bad if not worse. Gently Sam reached for Dean’s right side, hand ghosting over a couple of broken ribs. Dean didn’t even blink. Sam cautiously felt for a pulse, letting out a relieved sigh as the thready beat pulsed under his fingers. “Come on bro, open your eyes.” Sam watched Dean for a few seconds longer before he realised Dean wasn’t breathing. “No, no, no, no, no, no.” Sam repeated over and over again as he carefully laid Dean fully on his back on the ground and started breathing for him. “Come on man,” breath, “don’t do this to me,” breath, “wake up Dean. You can’t leave me here, not like this!” Suddenly Dean started coughing, choking on the blood making its way up his throat. Sam carefully rolled him onto his side and Dean lethargically spat the blood onto the floor.
After a few seconds, his coughing stopped and he looked at Sam. Suddenly fear flashed through his eyes and he tried to curl up into a ball again. “Dean, it’s ok, it’s Sam. It’s just Sam.” Sam spoke in a low, soothing voice; the same one you would use to calm a spooked horse. “It’s ok, it’s just me.” He repeated over and over, his hand out in a calming gesture. Dean flinched back, his back hitting the stone wall, a small hiss of pain escaping Dean’s clenched jaw.
“Sam doesn’t need me. Thinks I’m a failure, a mistake.” Dean said quietly. “He thinks he would have been better off without me, would have been better off if I’d never existed. He’d have a mom, and a dad, and Jess.” Dean’s breath hitched. “Shouldn’t have ever been born.”
Sam’s heart clenched tight in his chest. “No man, I don’t think that. I’d never think that. Mom and Jess, that wasn’t your fault. Really Dean, I don’t blame you.”
Dean just kept talking, as if his brother hadn’t uttered a word, “And I’m not smart enough, just good to be a soldier. Not even good enough to look after Sammy, nearly got him killed. I’m worthless, should just let me die. Don’t need me, nobody needs me.” Dean was rocking, his knees drawn up to his chest, despite the excruciating agony it caused, his arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth on the rough, cold floor.
Sam ran a hand through his hair. Dean really was broken. “Dean,” he tried again. “Dean man, listen to me. You’re everything to me. You’re my mother, and father, and brother all wrapped into one. If I didn’t have you, I wouldn’t be me. I need you Dean. I’ve always needed you.” Tears were flowing freely down his face as he watched his broken brother rock slowly back and forth, spewing words about being worthless and nothing. It broke his heart. Sam reached out a hand, letting it rest softly on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean please, let me at least take you back to the motel, let me clean your wounds. Let me help you.”
Suddenly Dean stopped his rocking and looked at Sam, but when Sam looked into those eyes he knew almost better than his own, he saw no recognition. “You just want to help me?” He looked confused. “Why would you want to do that? I mean I’m nothing.”
“No Dean, not nothing. Just confused. You’re tired, and sick, and confused. Your mind is playing tricks on you.”
“You just want to help me? Nothing else?” Sam saw something like hope in his brother’s eyes.
“Just want to help you Dean, that’s all.” Sam’s eyes pleaded with Dean.
After what felt like forever, with his brother staring back at him, Dean slowly nodded, and Sam let out a sigh of relief. He stood, offering Dean a hand up. Dean let out a scream when Sam grabbed his right arm, and Sam felt the cracking of dried blood, and the warmth of fresh blood under his fingers. He shrugged out of his jacket and overshirt and gently placed them around Dean’s shoulders.
********
Dean opened his eyes, rolling onto his back. He saw a guy, Sam his brain whispered to him, sitting next to him. His voice was soothing, and he didn’t look like he wanted to hurt him.
“Dean, it’s ok, it’s Sam. It’s just Sam. It’s ok, it’s just me.” He repeated the same words, the same concrete reassurances, over and over again. He held his hand out towards Dean, and Dean couldn’t help but shrink back away from it. He saw the man’s face fall slightly and he would have felt sorry for him if his back hadn’t hit the wall.
“Sam doesn’t need me. Thinks I’m a failure, a mistake.” Dean said quietly, the words his family had thrown at him reverberating around in his head. The man looked shocked. He had to get him to understand so he kept talking. “Sam thinks he would have been better off without me, would have been better off if I’d never existed. He’d have a mom, and a dad, and Jess.” Dean’s breath hitched, he wasn’t sure why he said that. “Shouldn’t have ever been born.”
Dean thought he heard the man, Sam his brain said again, talking to him, but Dean kept talking, right over the top of him. “And I’m not smart enough, just good to be a soldier. Not even good enough to look after Sammy, nearly got him killed. I’m worthless, should just let me die. Don’t need me, nobody needs me.” Dean pulled his knees to his chest, ignoring the pain, and wrapped his arms around them in an unconscious protective gesture. He started rocking backwards and forwards. If he couldn’t get the guy to understand, then maybe he’d think he was crazy and put him out of his misery.
The man, Sam, started talking again. “Dean,” he tried again. “Dean man, listen to me. You’re everything to me. You’re my mother, and father, and brother all wrapped into one. If I didn’t have you, I wouldn’t be me. I need you Dean. I’ve always needed you.” Tears were flowing freely down the man’s face. Dean had broken him too. “Dean please, let me at least take you back to the motel, let me clean your wounds. Let me help you.”
This was different. He wanted to help him? Not hurt him? Dean stopped rocking and looked at Sam. “You just want to help me?” Dean cocked his head to the side. “Why would you want to do that? I mean I’m nothing.”
“No Dean, not nothing. Just confused. You’re tired, and sick, and confused. Your mind is playing tricks on you.”
“You just want to help me? Nothing else?” Dean wanted to trust this man, Sam.
“Just want to help you Dean, that’s all.” Dean stared into the depths of the hazel eyes looking back at him. He couldn’t see any hatred, could only see concern, compassion, maybe something else he couldn’t put his finger on. The man, Sam, looked so honest, so devastated, that Dean couldn’t help but trust him. Slowly he nodded and Sam let out a breath. Sam stood, offering Dean a hand. But Sam inadvertently grabbed Dean’s right arm, instead of his hand, and Dean let out a scream. He knew they all wanted him to scream, the torture stopped once he screamed. It always did. Sam quickly withdrew his hand, looking, for all intents and purposes, like a kicked puppy. He shrugged out of his jacket and shirt and carefully laid them around Dean’s shoulders. Dean didn’t know why, but he felt at home with these clothes. He felt safe. He let Sam lead him out of the church towards an old black car. Dean felt that he should remember it, but he couldn’t quite get there. When he leaned, carefully, back into the leather, he felt waves of emotion crash over him, safe, loved, home. Dean closed his eyes, and slipped into sleep. He felt safe with this man, and right now, that was all his battered body, and fragile mind needed.
********
Dean blinked at the sunlight as they made their way out of the church. When they made it to the Impala, Sam waited for recognition to flash across Dean’s face. He was disappointed when it didn’t. He unlocked the passenger’s side door and helped Dean slide in. He shut the door and quickly made it to the driver’s side. After sliding into the car, and closing the door he looked at Dean. Dean had burrowed his way into Sam’s clothes, huddled against the door, his forehead resting on the window. Sam turned the key and the Impala growled to life.
The entire ride back to the motel Sam threw glances at his brother. Dean whimpered and mumbled in his sleep. Sam kept hearing the words ‘not good enough’ and ‘mistake’ come from his brother’s mouth. Bobby was right. Sam had gotten his brother back, but he hadn’t gotten his Dean back. The man sitting next to him wasn’t the same one who taught him how to shoot and throw knives. Wasn’t the same one who taught him to ride a bike and pick up chicks. Wasn’t the same one that helped him with his maths and science homework, the only subjects Sam struggled with and Dean excelled in, helping him keep up his GPA so he could get into Stanford. Getting his Dean back, the Dean he needed, was the next task. No way was some stupid witch taking away his rock, the axis on which his world turned. This witch wasn’t taking Dean, not without a fight. And if Sam knew how to do anything, it was dig in his heels and fight for something he believed in. The witch had picked the wrong family to deal with.
.
RATING: NC-17
CHAPTER: 5/5
WORD COUNT: This chapter: 3841, Whole Story: 14748
DISCLAIMER: Don't own them, only playing with them
SUMMARY: When A Drink and a pool game turn into retribution, Sam must race against time to find his brother.
Well, here it is. Final chapter. Let me know what you think. There is a sequel.
Sam was up as dawn started. As the sun’s rays had barely started to warm the earth, Sam repeated the previous morning’s routine and was back in the Impala, tearing through the streets of this little town before 7AM. Dean was dying. Sam didn’t know how he knew, he just did. Dean was dying so Sam didn’t have time to waste. He had 5 more back roads to search and he prayed that he would find Dean, still breathing, at the end of one of them.
********
Dean woke to his body being hauled upright. His arms were once again chained and he was roughly picked up and hung from that damn hook again. He couldn’t breathe properly; it hurt too much to do it. A shallow breath was all his battered body could take and even that was difficult. Dean’s vision swam as he opened his eyes. He could see her, touching things that were on the table. He could faintly hear someone moving around behind him. He knew that they were tired of playing games. He knew that this time they were going to break him, permanently. Sophia hadn’t even turned around when he felt the burning of the hot poker against his arm, and he let out a scream. When he said he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory he didn’t mean this. He didn’t care anymore, didn’t want to be brave. Sophia moved and he got a good look at her toys. His heart sank. They weren’t going to kill him, at least, not outright. They were going to torture him until he couldn’t take it anymore. They were going to torture him until his body gave in and he died.
He felt the chills racking his body. He nearly laughed out loud. With everything that was about to happen, and had happened, he was worried about the fact that he had a fever. He knew that, even with a fever as high as the one he had, it unfortunately wouldn’t kill him before they were through with him. Sophia turned to him, holding the hunting knife. She smiled at him before handing it to whoever stood behind him. He felt the tip of it rest at the base of his neck, directly above his spine, then felt it slice into his flesh, following the line of his spine right down to his tailbone. He felt the warmth of his blood trickle down his back. He knew that they were only toying with him. The cuts weren’t going to be deep, just enough to bleed a little, to hurt a lot. They wouldn’t even scar. Dean felt her slice just above the waistband of his jeans on his stomach. He moaned in pain this time, too tired to yell, to hoarse to scream. He felt them carve him up until he was almost ready to pass out. Then they stopped.
He let his eyes slipped closed in the brief respite from the torture being inflicted on his battered body. He could feel the pull of the darkness waiting for him, and he hoped against everything else, that this time when the darkness took him, it would be the last time. Sorry Sammy, Dean thought, I tried. I tried to fight, tried not to give in, but it’s so damn hard to keep doing this. I’m so tired Sammy. You’ll be ok; you can go back to school, go back to normal. Find another girl; get your white picket fence and your 2.5 kids with the family dog. Be the hotshot lawyer you always wanted me. You never needed me anyway. You could always look after yourself; it was me that needed to look after you. Only because I never really knew anything else. I hope you’ll forgive me kiddo, if I’m not here when you find me. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that Sam would find me, even after everything the hallucinations told him. He knew, in the light of day, with his rational thoughts overriding the emotional ones, that that’s what they really were; his worst fears come to life in the form of hallucinations. He knew that the water he was given had to have something in it, but when that was all you were given to drink, and stomaching food was out of the question, hallucinations were, really, the best of the worst. Dean knew that Sam would find him; it was just a matter of when, and if his baby brother would find him fast enough.
He breathed a sigh of relief, just before he felt the scorching pain of the fire poker in his back. He felt one on his left arm, just down from the other one; he felt them on his chest, on his stomach. He writhed from the pain and the last thing Dean heard was Sophia’s cold laugh as he slipped into the awaiting darkness.
********
Sam had searched every back road he could find. Not one of them had churches, or even remains of churches. Sam had hit a brick wall. He was lost, he didn’t know what to do. So he drove. He drove up and down every street this little town had, hoping to find what he was searching for.
********
Dean woke to a vision of Sam staring at him, smirking. His lips twisted in a way Sam’s should never be. “Nice to see you finally found your potential Dean. How’s it feel to know you’re only good as a whipping boy?” Sam’s laugh echoed off the walls as he disappeared, morphing into his father. “We’ll, you’re all tied up, aren’t you boy. Maybe this is how I should have punished you as a kid. Seems to work better than making you run 10 miles.” His father morphed into his mother. “Mistake,” she whispered to him. “Never should have happened. Didn’t need you, I had Sam.” Dean closed his eyes against the images, but he couldn’t block out the noises. They just layered on top of one another, until one word was echoing around his head, yelled by 3 different voices: “WORTHLESS!”
********
Finally Sam was travelling down a dirt back road, leading away from town. He’d clearly missed it the first time he’d been passed it, and nearly missed it again. It was nearing 6pm, and the sun was sinking on the horizon. Sam knew it was stupid to do this in the dark, but he had to get to Dean. He followed the road, slowly because Dean would kill him if he got scratches on his baby, for about 3 miles, finally coming up on an abandoned church. Sam knew in his gut that this was the place. It was dark and foreboding, the quickly approaching night not helping with the atmosphere. Why do all the freaks come out at night? Sam thought as he pulled the car off the dirt road, into a grove of trees, hiding it from view. The closer he got to the church, the more his instincts screamed at him that Dean was in there. He quickly, and silently, got out of the car, taking care in closing the door in an attempt to stop the normally comforting squeak, and rushed to the trunk, pulling out salt, holy water, Dean’s pistol, his own pistol, and a few extra rounds of silver bullets. He quietly closed the trunk, and on silent feet, ran through the forest until the church was in sight again. He held his breath as a woman, maybe in her late 20’s, and a man came out of the building. The man was huge. He had at least 6 inches on Sam, and was probably twice as wide. All muscle too. Dean really is good if he managed to do damage to someone that size, Sam thought as he watched the hulk get into a truck and drive away, and the woman turned and walked back into the church. Sam waited a full 5 minutes, making sure they weren’t coming back, before running from his cover towards the building. He had to get his brother out.
He quietly searched the outside of the building, noticing a window at ground level. Sam dropped onto his stomach and inched his way toward the window. He wanted to see what was inside, but he didn’t want to be seen. What he saw, when he finally got close enough, took his breath away. Dean was hanging on a hook, like a piece of meat, his hands chained together above his head. He was alone in the room. Hold on Dean Sam thought as he stood up again. I’m going to get you out. Quickly, and on silent feet, Sam rounded the side of the church, stopping at the front doors. He sent up a silent prayer to whoever had the unfortunate job of looking out for the Winchester’s, thanking them for letting the woman leave the doors open just enough for Sam to slip through them. He quietly made his way through the doors and into the church. Dean was obviously in a basement, now Sam just had to work out how to get to it. Usually there was a door in a back room that led down to the basement. Sam just had to find it.
********
Dean groaned as his shoulders once again protested holding his weight. This time is wasn’t long before he was unhooked and thrown to the ground. He didn’t even fight back this time. His family hated him, thought he was a mistake and a failure. What point was there in fighting back? Maybe this way she’d kill him quick. He watched with eyes at half mast, as she circled around him. She was toying with him, telling him how Sam must really hate him; that he hadn’t even been looking for Dean. Dean didn’t really care too much anymore, so he tuned her words out. He thought he saw movement behind her, but put it down to the pit-bull of a bodyguard that had pulled him from the hook. He thought he heard the sound of a struggle and then of something heavy hitting the ground, but put it down to hallucinations.
“So what do you think Dean, should I kill you slow, or fast?” Sophia purred. “I mean, it’s not like there’s anyone to hear you scream, and even if there was, it’s not like they’d care.” She laughed coldly, eyes dancing with hatred, sparkling with glee at the broken man laid out on the ground before her.
Dean thought he heard an answering voice before the sound of a gun firing and Sophia dropped to the ground in front of him, before passing out once again.
********
Sam made his way to the back of the church, making sure not to alert anyone to his presence. He made it to what looked to be a kitchen of some sort when he thought he heard voices. He pressed himself up against the wall, barely breathing, slowing the pounding heartbeat he could feel in his head. He heard it again, the sound of voices, this time accompanied by the sound of metal against metal. Then he heard something drop to the ground. He spied a slightly open door. He made his way over to it, spying a set of stone steps, leading to what he presumed to be the basement. As he silently made his way down the steps he heard the woman’s voice taunting Dean. He thought he heard a whimper. That can’t be Dean, can it? Dean doesn’t make that kind of noise. He’s too strong to make that kind of noise. As Sam made it to the bottom of the steps he noticed another figure leaning against the wall. Another bodyguard? Sam wondered as he drew nearer to him. He was almost on him when the bodyguard turned, spying Sam. Sam reacted instantly, a few punches and the guy was rendered unconscious. Sam lowered him down to the ground carefully, making sure no noise was made that could alert anyone, ensuring no more pain was inflicted on his brother. He heard the woman’s voice clearly now, her icy tone chilling Sam to the bone. He could see Dean curled up in a heap at her feet.
“I mean, it’s not like there’s anyone to hear you scream, and even if there was, it’s not like they’d care.” Sam heard her taunt. He stepped through the door, raising his pistol filled with silver rounds as he did so.
“Yeah, actually there is.” He said before firing off 3 shots. He hit her twice in the chest, once in the head. He cautiously made his way over to Dean. His breath caught in his throat - Dean wasn’t moving.
“No, no, no, no. Dean wake up,” Sam whispered as he took in Dean’s battered body. The burns, and the cuts and bruises. He couldn’t see his back but was sure it would be just as bad if not worse. Gently Sam reached for Dean’s right side, hand ghosting over a couple of broken ribs. Dean didn’t even blink. Sam cautiously felt for a pulse, letting out a relieved sigh as the thready beat pulsed under his fingers. “Come on bro, open your eyes.” Sam watched Dean for a few seconds longer before he realised Dean wasn’t breathing. “No, no, no, no, no, no.” Sam repeated over and over again as he carefully laid Dean fully on his back on the ground and started breathing for him. “Come on man,” breath, “don’t do this to me,” breath, “wake up Dean. You can’t leave me here, not like this!” Suddenly Dean started coughing, choking on the blood making its way up his throat. Sam carefully rolled him onto his side and Dean lethargically spat the blood onto the floor.
After a few seconds, his coughing stopped and he looked at Sam. Suddenly fear flashed through his eyes and he tried to curl up into a ball again. “Dean, it’s ok, it’s Sam. It’s just Sam.” Sam spoke in a low, soothing voice; the same one you would use to calm a spooked horse. “It’s ok, it’s just me.” He repeated over and over, his hand out in a calming gesture. Dean flinched back, his back hitting the stone wall, a small hiss of pain escaping Dean’s clenched jaw.
“Sam doesn’t need me. Thinks I’m a failure, a mistake.” Dean said quietly. “He thinks he would have been better off without me, would have been better off if I’d never existed. He’d have a mom, and a dad, and Jess.” Dean’s breath hitched. “Shouldn’t have ever been born.”
Sam’s heart clenched tight in his chest. “No man, I don’t think that. I’d never think that. Mom and Jess, that wasn’t your fault. Really Dean, I don’t blame you.”
Dean just kept talking, as if his brother hadn’t uttered a word, “And I’m not smart enough, just good to be a soldier. Not even good enough to look after Sammy, nearly got him killed. I’m worthless, should just let me die. Don’t need me, nobody needs me.” Dean was rocking, his knees drawn up to his chest, despite the excruciating agony it caused, his arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth on the rough, cold floor.
Sam ran a hand through his hair. Dean really was broken. “Dean,” he tried again. “Dean man, listen to me. You’re everything to me. You’re my mother, and father, and brother all wrapped into one. If I didn’t have you, I wouldn’t be me. I need you Dean. I’ve always needed you.” Tears were flowing freely down his face as he watched his broken brother rock slowly back and forth, spewing words about being worthless and nothing. It broke his heart. Sam reached out a hand, letting it rest softly on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean please, let me at least take you back to the motel, let me clean your wounds. Let me help you.”
Suddenly Dean stopped his rocking and looked at Sam, but when Sam looked into those eyes he knew almost better than his own, he saw no recognition. “You just want to help me?” He looked confused. “Why would you want to do that? I mean I’m nothing.”
“No Dean, not nothing. Just confused. You’re tired, and sick, and confused. Your mind is playing tricks on you.”
“You just want to help me? Nothing else?” Sam saw something like hope in his brother’s eyes.
“Just want to help you Dean, that’s all.” Sam’s eyes pleaded with Dean.
After what felt like forever, with his brother staring back at him, Dean slowly nodded, and Sam let out a sigh of relief. He stood, offering Dean a hand up. Dean let out a scream when Sam grabbed his right arm, and Sam felt the cracking of dried blood, and the warmth of fresh blood under his fingers. He shrugged out of his jacket and overshirt and gently placed them around Dean’s shoulders.
********
Dean opened his eyes, rolling onto his back. He saw a guy, Sam his brain whispered to him, sitting next to him. His voice was soothing, and he didn’t look like he wanted to hurt him.
“Dean, it’s ok, it’s Sam. It’s just Sam. It’s ok, it’s just me.” He repeated the same words, the same concrete reassurances, over and over again. He held his hand out towards Dean, and Dean couldn’t help but shrink back away from it. He saw the man’s face fall slightly and he would have felt sorry for him if his back hadn’t hit the wall.
“Sam doesn’t need me. Thinks I’m a failure, a mistake.” Dean said quietly, the words his family had thrown at him reverberating around in his head. The man looked shocked. He had to get him to understand so he kept talking. “Sam thinks he would have been better off without me, would have been better off if I’d never existed. He’d have a mom, and a dad, and Jess.” Dean’s breath hitched, he wasn’t sure why he said that. “Shouldn’t have ever been born.”
Dean thought he heard the man, Sam his brain said again, talking to him, but Dean kept talking, right over the top of him. “And I’m not smart enough, just good to be a soldier. Not even good enough to look after Sammy, nearly got him killed. I’m worthless, should just let me die. Don’t need me, nobody needs me.” Dean pulled his knees to his chest, ignoring the pain, and wrapped his arms around them in an unconscious protective gesture. He started rocking backwards and forwards. If he couldn’t get the guy to understand, then maybe he’d think he was crazy and put him out of his misery.
The man, Sam, started talking again. “Dean,” he tried again. “Dean man, listen to me. You’re everything to me. You’re my mother, and father, and brother all wrapped into one. If I didn’t have you, I wouldn’t be me. I need you Dean. I’ve always needed you.” Tears were flowing freely down the man’s face. Dean had broken him too. “Dean please, let me at least take you back to the motel, let me clean your wounds. Let me help you.”
This was different. He wanted to help him? Not hurt him? Dean stopped rocking and looked at Sam. “You just want to help me?” Dean cocked his head to the side. “Why would you want to do that? I mean I’m nothing.”
“No Dean, not nothing. Just confused. You’re tired, and sick, and confused. Your mind is playing tricks on you.”
“You just want to help me? Nothing else?” Dean wanted to trust this man, Sam.
“Just want to help you Dean, that’s all.” Dean stared into the depths of the hazel eyes looking back at him. He couldn’t see any hatred, could only see concern, compassion, maybe something else he couldn’t put his finger on. The man, Sam, looked so honest, so devastated, that Dean couldn’t help but trust him. Slowly he nodded and Sam let out a breath. Sam stood, offering Dean a hand. But Sam inadvertently grabbed Dean’s right arm, instead of his hand, and Dean let out a scream. He knew they all wanted him to scream, the torture stopped once he screamed. It always did. Sam quickly withdrew his hand, looking, for all intents and purposes, like a kicked puppy. He shrugged out of his jacket and shirt and carefully laid them around Dean’s shoulders. Dean didn’t know why, but he felt at home with these clothes. He felt safe. He let Sam lead him out of the church towards an old black car. Dean felt that he should remember it, but he couldn’t quite get there. When he leaned, carefully, back into the leather, he felt waves of emotion crash over him, safe, loved, home. Dean closed his eyes, and slipped into sleep. He felt safe with this man, and right now, that was all his battered body, and fragile mind needed.
********
Dean blinked at the sunlight as they made their way out of the church. When they made it to the Impala, Sam waited for recognition to flash across Dean’s face. He was disappointed when it didn’t. He unlocked the passenger’s side door and helped Dean slide in. He shut the door and quickly made it to the driver’s side. After sliding into the car, and closing the door he looked at Dean. Dean had burrowed his way into Sam’s clothes, huddled against the door, his forehead resting on the window. Sam turned the key and the Impala growled to life.
The entire ride back to the motel Sam threw glances at his brother. Dean whimpered and mumbled in his sleep. Sam kept hearing the words ‘not good enough’ and ‘mistake’ come from his brother’s mouth. Bobby was right. Sam had gotten his brother back, but he hadn’t gotten his Dean back. The man sitting next to him wasn’t the same one who taught him how to shoot and throw knives. Wasn’t the same one who taught him to ride a bike and pick up chicks. Wasn’t the same one that helped him with his maths and science homework, the only subjects Sam struggled with and Dean excelled in, helping him keep up his GPA so he could get into Stanford. Getting his Dean back, the Dean he needed, was the next task. No way was some stupid witch taking away his rock, the axis on which his world turned. This witch wasn’t taking Dean, not without a fight. And if Sam knew how to do anything, it was dig in his heels and fight for something he believed in. The witch had picked the wrong family to deal with.
.