Wrapped in Honey 46/49
Chapter 46
Dean had seen this Sam only once before. Sam, the Incubus. Sam, the monster. Sam who didn't even seem to notice the bullet in his shoulder.
Dean knew exactly what John was facing right now.
Sam lifted the other man up like he weighted nothing, hand around his throat, ready to snap his neck. Or to just slowly choke him to death. But Dean couldn't let that happen. It wasn't right.
"Sam, don't." He tried to get his attention but Sam ignored him. He laid his hand on Sam's arm, iron strands of muscle tight under his fingers, and looked him in the eye. "Sammy, please. Let him go."
Sam's eyes weren't human at all, old and cold they stared back at him but Dean stood his ground and didn't back off. Then, finally, there was something changing, as if Sam was waking up. He blinked at Dean in confusion but then let go of John who slumped to the floor in a heap. He was no danger anymore. Dean looked down at his father and felt nothing.
When Sam told him to call the sheriff, he did that but when he hung up he'd no idea what he'd just told her. John was here and she should come.
And then everything went south. Sam threw him a quick glance over his shoulder and Dean gave him a nod to indicate that he was fine and then John moved. He dove for his gun. The only thing Dean could think of was the shotgun Bobby kept at hand just in case but it was around the corner and by the time Dean reached it, he heard John yelling "Die, you freak!" and then there was gunfire. Dean sprinted back but could only watch in horror when John emptied the whole magazine into Sam.
"No!" Dean yelled and raised his own gun. They fired at almost the same time. John's chest exploded in red and so did Sam's face. Dean only wasted enough time on John to kick the gun out of his lifeless hand, not bothering to check if he was dead or not, before he dropped to his knees next to Sam. His shirt was soaking with blood, perforated by too many shots. The last one had hit him in the throat in an upward angle and the bullet had left his body just underneath his eye, leaving half his face a bloody mess.
"Sammy, no. Please, no." Dean dragged him into his lap, holding him tight. It was a miracle that he was still alive but deep down Dean knew that Sam was dying. There was no way he could survive this.
"Please, Sammy." He begged. "You can't die, not now. Not like this."
"No ...amb...bu...l'nce." He choked the words our with a gush of blood, reaching blindly for Dean. There was no point in calling an ambulance, Dean knew that. It was too late.
"Sammy." He buried his face in Sam's hair. Tears ran down his face freely while he just tried to will Sam to stay alive.
"C..call Benny." The words were almost lost in the choking but Dean heard them.
"Benny?"
"Call Ben..." Sam's voice broke and then he went still in Dean's arms.
"Sam?" Dean shook him. "Sammy!"
This couldn't be real. Sam couldn't be dead. He just couldn't.
"No, no, no. Sam!" He shook him but there was no response.
He didn't know why he reached for the phone and called Benny's number. Sam had told him with his dying breath to call him, that was the only reason he could think of.
"Yeah?" Benny answered the phone.
"He shot Sammy." Dean almost couldn't bring the words out. "He...he..."
"Dean?" Benny asked but didn't wait for an answer. "Who shot Sam?"
"My dad." He still had Sam's lifeless body in his arms, he couldn't let go of him. "He shot him. Sam is dead."
"Dean, listen to me." Benny's voice pierced through the fog in his mind. "Did he shoot him with regular bullets?"
"What?"
"Dean, this is important. Did Sam got shot with regular bullets?" Benny repeated his question.
"Yes, of course." Confused Dean looked at the gun lying near by. "What else would he use?"
"Doesn't matter." Benny seemed relived by that. "Listen to me. Sam is not dead. Do you understand me? He is not dead."
"He lost a lot of blood." Dean couldn't look at how much blood there was. He was kneeling in it. "He got shot in the face. He isn't breathing."
"That doesn't matter." Benny insisted. "Bullets can't kill him. You hear me? They can't kill him. He needs time but he will come around. Dean, Sam is alive."
Dean wanted to believe him but he was holding Sam's dead body and that was hard to ignore.
"What do I do now?" Tell me what to do.
"Is the police coming?"
"Yes." He could hear sirens in the distance. Sheriff Mills would be here very soon.
"They can't find him like this." Benny insisted. "You have to hide him."
"And then?"
"Then you wait." Benny said it as if it was obvious. "You know how you can help him coming around faster but given time he will heal on his own. But you have to hide him. Now."
Dean ended the call and wiped the tears from his face. He could do this.
He grabbed the blanket from the couch and draped it over Sam. It was easier when he didn't see the bloody mess. He rolled him into the blanket so that he wouldn't leave a trail of blood behind and then he lifted him up in his arms. It would have been easier if he'd just dragged him around but he couldn't do that, he just couldn't.
His arm protested at the heavy lifting but he gritted his teeth and carried Sam down into the basement. In the far corner he hid him like a dirty secret behind some old barrels. Then he sprinted back upstairs and dragged the rug over the spot where Sam had been shot just in time before Sheriff Mills burst through the door.
"Dean?" She asked after a quick look around. One of the deputies took John's gun and the shotgun, the other one was aiming at John. Dean still had no idea if the man was still alive. He was lying in a puddle of blood and Dean was pretty sure he wasn't breathing but at the moment he didn't care. The only thing he could think of was that John had lost enough blood to cover up Sam's.
"Dean, are you hurt?" The sheriff put her gun away and came closer, slowly and controlled, like Dean was a scared animal.
Why would she think he was hurt? Was he hurt? Confused he looked down at himself. He was covered in blood. Sam's blood.
"It's ..." He had to clear his throat. "That's not my blood. I'm okay."
She guided him over to the kitchen while her deputies did whatever they had to do in the study. Would they notice that something wasn't right? That was the question in Dean's mind. That and Sam wrapped in that blanket hidden in the basement.
"Where's Sam?"
"What?" Dean snapped out of his thoughts. Did she know? He felt his chest tighten but he couldn't go into a panic attack, not now. Sam needed him.
"Where is Sam?" She repeated her question. "Was he here with you?"
She didn't know. Dean breathed easier.
"He isn't here." He finally said while his mind raced to come up with a believable lie. "He needed to ... he wanted to come back tomorrow."
She nodded in understanding as if talking in half-sentences was normal.
"I could call him." She offered gently.
"No, no." Dean hurried to say but let her guide him over to a chair. They sat down. "I ... I'll call him later." Where was Sam's phone? If she called him now, would she hear it ringing in the house? He couldn't risk that.
"Okay." She eyed him closely as if she was debating if she should ask her questions or not. "Can you tell me what happened?"
Dean nodded.
You can do this. Keep it simple, you can do this.
"He kicked in the door." Dean started. "He had a gun." He paused, weighting his words. "He yelled at me, said ... stuff. The same old shit." He sight. The last thing he wanted to do was to repeat the things John had said but Jody had been here the other day as well, had taken his statement later in the hospital, he was sure she knew the kind of things John had said.
"After last time I kept Bobby's shotgun in reach." He skipped the part where Sam had attacked John. Sam who now lay in the dark cold of the basement. If he'd just let Sam kill him ...
"You shot him?"
"Yes, he wanted to shoot me but I got him first." If this wasn't self-defense he didn't know what was.
"You did good." She took some notes.
"What happened to the deputy outside?" Dean suddenly remembered the man. He hadn't come in after the gunfire and he wasn't one of the men in the other room.
"He is dead." Jody said, biting her bottom lip. "Looks like John shot him."
"I didn't hear anything." Dean frowned at that. "The TV was on but still ..."
"We're not sure yet." Jody shook her head. "He may have used a silencer of some kind."
She paused, for a moment lost in her own thoughts.
"I want to have you checked out in the hospital." She finally said. "An ambulance is on the way, you should ride with them."
"No, I'm fine." Dean hurried to say. He couldn't leave, not now.
"I would feel better if you would let them check on you." She played the mom card. "And I know Bobby feels the same. Besides, you shouldn't be alone right now."
"I won't be. I'm going to call Sam as soon as this is all over." He made a gesture in the direction of the study. Judging by the voices coming from there the two deputies weren't alone any more.
"I can't make you." She stood up. "But I'd really feel better if you'd stay the night in the hospital. Don't underestimate shock."
"I'm fine." He insisted and he was. The one who wasn't fine was Sam but he could do squat while the house was crawling with deputies and paramedics and he was pretty sure the coroner was here as well. Jody didn't let him back into the study so he couldn't tell for sure, though.
The thing she could tell him was that John Winchester was dead.
Dean sat in his chair, while the world around him was spinning in hyper drive. John was dead. He had shot his own father. He knew he should feel something but he was just numb.
Shock, Jody pointed out when he told her.
Later, he didn't know how much later, one by one the people left the house. They took John with them and nobody asked where all the bullets went or why there was so much blood. They probably didn't look too closely, the case was pretty clear.
"You sure you want to stay here alone?" Jody was the only one left. "You could come over to my place." She offered.
"Thank you but I'd like to be alone for the moment. I'm going to call Sam in a bit."
"Just call me if you need something. Anything, anytime."
"I will." He promised and then she finally left. He forced himself to stay in his chair for another five minutes, just to make sure, before he rushed back into the basement.
Sam hadn't moved and he didn't look any better. Later Dean couldn't tell how but he heaved Sam upstairs to the guest room. He cut off the ruined clothes and washed away the blood. Sam's skin was cold and clammy and the holes in his chest looked awful.
Dean tucked him in, blanket up to his chin and head resting a bit to the side so he didn't have to constantly look at the crater there. Sam still hadn't moved. He still wasn't breathing either.
Dean stood at the side of the bed, not sure what to do next.
"Don't make me jerk off over your dead body." He pleaded.
Chapter 47
Masterpost