Soulless Justice 2/?
Title: Soulless Justice
Rating: pg-13 for some violence and language
Warnings: Spoilers for season 6
Word Count: ~2100
Summary: When Castiel calls, Dean leaves a very tense Bobby with Sam in hopes the two will talk things out. A hunter seeking revenge just might make Bobby put his anger aside…Set after 6x11. Hurt!Sam, Protective!Bobby, Dean, and Cas.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed! I was really excited by the response this has gotten so far!
Neither Bobby nor Sam had any idea of what was about to come….
Glass shards splattered everywhere, biting into Sam and Bobby’s skin. The hunters shook off the shock enough to attempt to dodge the offending objects as much as possible. The hunters hunkered under Bobby’s large wooden desk, both frantically searching their memory as to where weapons were hidden in the room. The sound of shotgun cocking and a chilling voice from outside stopped them dead in their tracks. “Winchester! Get your ass out here now!”
Bobby saw a shiver run through Sam’s tall frame as the young hunter tried to process what was happening. “Ya know who it is?”
“No,” Sam said as he tilted his head towards the shattered window. “It must be somebody I met while I was…”
“Damn.”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed. I hate this…
With a determined look, Sam pushed himself off the floor and began walking hunched over towards the broken window. Bobby’s hand gripping his bicep was the only thing to stop him from putting himself in front of the window.
“What the hell are ya doin’ ya idgit?!?”
“The guy wants me, not you,” Sam said as if it was the simplest thing in the universe.
“So? You just gonna hand yourself over to him?”
“Bobby, I’m not going to let you get hurt because of something I did. Not again. I’m going.”
Sam tried to shake off Bobby’s hand, but the older hunter’s grip only tightened.
“The hell you are!” Although not completely ready to forgive Sam, the anger around Bobby’s heart was slowly starting to melt. He pulled Sam back down to a sitting position next to him on the floor. “You don’t even know who or what the bastard is yet! So we are gonna sit here and figure out somethin’ to do about this whole damn thing before ya start goin’ off to get yourself killed! Got it?!?”
“Yes sir,” Sam gulped. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of the thing outside not being human.
“Good.” Convinced Sam was staying put, he finally let go of his arm.
Sam thought for a few minutes, silently biting on his lower lip before speaking. “Then use me as bait.”
“Have you lost ya damn mind? Do ya have any idea what that brother of yours would say if he was here?!?”
“I know,” Sam said with exasperation. “But what other option do we have? We can’t exactly call the sheriff in on this since we don’t know what we are dealing with yet. So I’m not seeing any other option here!” Sam let his frustration at everything leak into his voice….Bobby, his guilt, and now this…
“Fine,” Bobby snapped back. “You go out the front and try to find ‘em. I’ll go out through the back and try to get the drop on ‘em while ya distract ‘em.”
Sam nodded, grabbed his gun, and slowly rose from the creaky hardwood floor. Bobby followed. They moved towards each part of the house with stealth, remaining hunched over to prevent the guy or thing outside from see them. Sam reached the front door and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He heard Bobby crack open the back door of the house.
With his left hand, Sam opened the door; his right hand firmly held the gun. He edged his way onto the porch, staying and close to the house as possible. He looked towards the yard filled with stacked heaps of junked cars and parts. Everything seemed completely normal, except everything just felt completely wrong.
Sam stepped away from the porch, knowing that whatever was after him had to be hiding amongst the wreckage littering Bobby’s junkyard. It left Sam little option. He kept close to the stacked cars and held his gun at ready. He had no idea where Bobby was, which worried him more than anything; with the way his luck had been, he would end up shooting Bobby rather than what they were searching for.
Gravel crunched under his books and dust clung to his jacket. The air seemed to grow colder; Sam’s breaths puffed out in little clouds. But most of this went unnoticed as Sam tuned his senses towards finding whatever hid out in the yard.
Sam’s body was pressed against a rusty blue Crown Vic stacked on top of a Station Wagon moments later when he suddenly felt himself being pulled backwards and his gun leaving his grasp. The sharp edges from the car’s broken window cut through the fabric of his jacket, biting into the skin underneath. His breath was knocked out of his lungs as he was flung down onto the tattered leather of the front seats.
Before Sam had time to register what was happening, a strong body was on top of him, pressing him back down onto the seats. The man’s jaw was firmly set, and unbridled hatred practically flowed off the man. His knees pushed painfully into Sam’s ribcage. The man landed punches across Sam’s face, splitting his lip and bruising his cheek.
“What…” Sam forced out.
“Shut up,” the man snapped back. He moved his hands to Sam’s throat. “You don’t get to talk you son of a bitch.”
Sam tried to buck the guy off of him, but his hands only tightened around Sam’s throat. Spots began to dance across Sam’s vision, and his lungs burned. He was close to unconsciousness when it abruptly stopped. The man slid off of him with a pain filled grunt, landing across the floorboard of the car. Sam coughed roughly as the air returned to his lungs. Sam’s vision slowly cleared so that he could see Bobby standing in front of him, the butt of his shotgun held firmly in the air near where the man’s head was seconds earlier.
“Sam! Can ya hear me?”
“Yeah,” Sam rasped out between coughs. After a few minutes he accepted Bobby’s hand and was pulled into a sitting position. He leaned to the side and spit blood out of his mouth. Concerned flickered across Bobby’s face before the stoic look he had been wearing for the past week became firmly set once again.
“Recognize him?”
Sam looked to the floor and shook his head.
“Didn’t figure ya would. Let’s get him inside. We’ll put him in the panic room and run the usual tests. See what we’re dealin’ with here.”
Sam nodded again and pushed himself out of the car. He swayed when his feet hit the ground; Bobby’s calloused hand steadied him. He sent a grateful smile towards the hunter, but Bobby didn’t respond. He only reached back into the car to haul the man out.
SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN
The trek to the panic room was slow goings. Exhaustion combined with the muscled guy weighed heavily on Sam. Bobby ended up pulling more of the unconscious bastard onto his shoulder than Sam. By the time they finally made it to the living room, Bobby pushed Sam towards the couch. He dragged the guy to the basement and into the panic room by himself.
Upstairs, Sam dropped down onto the couch with a sigh. He slowly slid out of his torn and bloodied jacket before stretching out across the couch. He closed his eyes as the soreness started to make itself known. Minutes passed, and he was close to sleep when Bobby returned to the room and tossed an ice pack on him. The coldness of it startled him, but he gratefully accepted it.
“I reckon the bastard’s human,” Bobby said as he took the chair opposite the couch.
“I was afraid of that,” Sam mumbled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
"It means that I must have done something to him while my soul was on vacation in hell,” Sam snapped. A look Sam took as anger crossed Bobby’s face. “Sorry, Bobby,” he sighed. “I’m just tired.”
Bobby stood from the chair and reached for a blanket that sat on the back of it. He tossed it to Sam. “Then get some rest. I got ‘em tied up downstairs so he won’t be going anywhere soon.” Then, just as he had done hundreds of times before, Bobby gently laid his hand on Sam’s shoulder before heading towards the stairs. The small gesture brought tears of hope to Sam’s eyes before he allowed them to close and sleep to overcome him.
SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN
Sam awoke hours later with a start. A loud clanging noise emanated from below him and sent his instincts on fire. He rose from the couch and grabbed his hunting knife from the table. Sam spared a glance towards the stairs, but it seemed as if Bobby had not woken.
The journey to the panic room was made quick thanks to the adrenaline now pumping through Sam’s veins. Once at the heavy metal door, Sam opened the peephole before walking into the room. The man appeared to still be tied to the chair, but he had somehow tipped it over. Sam sighed and opened the door. The guy may be trying to hurt him, but Sam figured he had just brought it on himself and didn’t want the guy to suffer any extra.
As Sam approached the toppled chair, he thought the man had knocked himself unconscious in all the fuss. He grabbed the legs and back of the chair and carefully righted the fallen piece of furniture. He was about to check the ropes holding the man down, when he suddenly found himself flat on his back with hands at his throat yet again and his knife flying out of his reach.
“Gah,” Sam moaned.
“Should’ve checked the ropes first,” the man smiled. “Never thought I’d see you get soft.”
“What?” Sam managed to rasp out of his constricted throat.
“After what you did…” His hands tightened around Sam’s throat. “You have the nerve to question me?”
“I….don’t…remember….”
“That’s rich Winchester. You mean to tell me you can’t remember the day you ruined my life?!?”
“Guh…”
“Well, let’s take a nice stroll down memory lane, shall we?” He let go of Sam’s throat to reach for the knife Sam had lost in the scuffle. He ran the blunt side of the cold blade down Sam’s cheek and throat before turning the blade and slicing across Sam’s t-shirt clad chest. “Your grandfather recruited my son and me to help you two out on a hunt for Succubus. Only, you neglected to fully disclose the details of your plan to us.” He cut up to Sam’s shoulder; the blood ran down onto the cold cement of the floor. “You decided my son was the perfect bate, only you didn’t give him a head’s up to that!”
The knife was pushed deep into Sam’s shoulder. He gasped at the pain, but kept conscious.
“Because of you, my son can never hunt again. When that bitch got wise to us, she messed him up. Doctors don’t expect him to ever be able to walk again. And that is all thanks to!”
The memories started to flash behind Sam’s eyes. He could see a young hunter standing beside scantily clad woman. Her eyes looked him up and down while her hand trailed across his muscled chest. Then everything changed. Something forced her eyes away from the man, and the seductive look quickly turned to anger. His own image and Samuel flickered across his vision before it was overtaken by the sounds of screaming and images of blood…
A painful twist of the knife brought him back to the present. He screamed as the knife slid in deeper.
“Look….I can’t…can’t explain what I did. But I swear, I am so sorry and should never have…”
“That’s right! You shouldn’t have! And now,” he pulled the knife out, “you are going to pay!”
Sam could see the man about to plunge the knife down into his chest. The blood loss and bruising had left him too weak to knock the guy off of his body. He was close to giving up when he heard the sounds of the door at the top of the steps creak open. The hunter on top of him cursed under his breath before pushing himself off of Sam. The knife remained in his hands, but before he made a dash out of the room he kicked hard into Sam’s abdomen.
The contents of his stomach threatened to make an appearance, and his breath was stolen from his lungs. He could just make out the sounds of yelling and banging before he fell into the bliss of darkness.
Next Chapter
Rating: pg-13 for some violence and language
Warnings: Spoilers for season 6
Word Count: ~2100
Summary: When Castiel calls, Dean leaves a very tense Bobby with Sam in hopes the two will talk things out. A hunter seeking revenge just might make Bobby put his anger aside…Set after 6x11. Hurt!Sam, Protective!Bobby, Dean, and Cas.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed! I was really excited by the response this has gotten so far!
Neither Bobby nor Sam had any idea of what was about to come….
Glass shards splattered everywhere, biting into Sam and Bobby’s skin. The hunters shook off the shock enough to attempt to dodge the offending objects as much as possible. The hunters hunkered under Bobby’s large wooden desk, both frantically searching their memory as to where weapons were hidden in the room. The sound of shotgun cocking and a chilling voice from outside stopped them dead in their tracks. “Winchester! Get your ass out here now!”
Bobby saw a shiver run through Sam’s tall frame as the young hunter tried to process what was happening. “Ya know who it is?”
“No,” Sam said as he tilted his head towards the shattered window. “It must be somebody I met while I was…”
“Damn.”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed. I hate this…
With a determined look, Sam pushed himself off the floor and began walking hunched over towards the broken window. Bobby’s hand gripping his bicep was the only thing to stop him from putting himself in front of the window.
“What the hell are ya doin’ ya idgit?!?”
“The guy wants me, not you,” Sam said as if it was the simplest thing in the universe.
“So? You just gonna hand yourself over to him?”
“Bobby, I’m not going to let you get hurt because of something I did. Not again. I’m going.”
Sam tried to shake off Bobby’s hand, but the older hunter’s grip only tightened.
“The hell you are!” Although not completely ready to forgive Sam, the anger around Bobby’s heart was slowly starting to melt. He pulled Sam back down to a sitting position next to him on the floor. “You don’t even know who or what the bastard is yet! So we are gonna sit here and figure out somethin’ to do about this whole damn thing before ya start goin’ off to get yourself killed! Got it?!?”
“Yes sir,” Sam gulped. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of the thing outside not being human.
“Good.” Convinced Sam was staying put, he finally let go of his arm.
Sam thought for a few minutes, silently biting on his lower lip before speaking. “Then use me as bait.”
“Have you lost ya damn mind? Do ya have any idea what that brother of yours would say if he was here?!?”
“I know,” Sam said with exasperation. “But what other option do we have? We can’t exactly call the sheriff in on this since we don’t know what we are dealing with yet. So I’m not seeing any other option here!” Sam let his frustration at everything leak into his voice….Bobby, his guilt, and now this…
“Fine,” Bobby snapped back. “You go out the front and try to find ‘em. I’ll go out through the back and try to get the drop on ‘em while ya distract ‘em.”
Sam nodded, grabbed his gun, and slowly rose from the creaky hardwood floor. Bobby followed. They moved towards each part of the house with stealth, remaining hunched over to prevent the guy or thing outside from see them. Sam reached the front door and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He heard Bobby crack open the back door of the house.
With his left hand, Sam opened the door; his right hand firmly held the gun. He edged his way onto the porch, staying and close to the house as possible. He looked towards the yard filled with stacked heaps of junked cars and parts. Everything seemed completely normal, except everything just felt completely wrong.
Sam stepped away from the porch, knowing that whatever was after him had to be hiding amongst the wreckage littering Bobby’s junkyard. It left Sam little option. He kept close to the stacked cars and held his gun at ready. He had no idea where Bobby was, which worried him more than anything; with the way his luck had been, he would end up shooting Bobby rather than what they were searching for.
Gravel crunched under his books and dust clung to his jacket. The air seemed to grow colder; Sam’s breaths puffed out in little clouds. But most of this went unnoticed as Sam tuned his senses towards finding whatever hid out in the yard.
Sam’s body was pressed against a rusty blue Crown Vic stacked on top of a Station Wagon moments later when he suddenly felt himself being pulled backwards and his gun leaving his grasp. The sharp edges from the car’s broken window cut through the fabric of his jacket, biting into the skin underneath. His breath was knocked out of his lungs as he was flung down onto the tattered leather of the front seats.
Before Sam had time to register what was happening, a strong body was on top of him, pressing him back down onto the seats. The man’s jaw was firmly set, and unbridled hatred practically flowed off the man. His knees pushed painfully into Sam’s ribcage. The man landed punches across Sam’s face, splitting his lip and bruising his cheek.
“What…” Sam forced out.
“Shut up,” the man snapped back. He moved his hands to Sam’s throat. “You don’t get to talk you son of a bitch.”
Sam tried to buck the guy off of him, but his hands only tightened around Sam’s throat. Spots began to dance across Sam’s vision, and his lungs burned. He was close to unconsciousness when it abruptly stopped. The man slid off of him with a pain filled grunt, landing across the floorboard of the car. Sam coughed roughly as the air returned to his lungs. Sam’s vision slowly cleared so that he could see Bobby standing in front of him, the butt of his shotgun held firmly in the air near where the man’s head was seconds earlier.
“Sam! Can ya hear me?”
“Yeah,” Sam rasped out between coughs. After a few minutes he accepted Bobby’s hand and was pulled into a sitting position. He leaned to the side and spit blood out of his mouth. Concerned flickered across Bobby’s face before the stoic look he had been wearing for the past week became firmly set once again.
“Recognize him?”
Sam looked to the floor and shook his head.
“Didn’t figure ya would. Let’s get him inside. We’ll put him in the panic room and run the usual tests. See what we’re dealin’ with here.”
Sam nodded again and pushed himself out of the car. He swayed when his feet hit the ground; Bobby’s calloused hand steadied him. He sent a grateful smile towards the hunter, but Bobby didn’t respond. He only reached back into the car to haul the man out.
SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN
The trek to the panic room was slow goings. Exhaustion combined with the muscled guy weighed heavily on Sam. Bobby ended up pulling more of the unconscious bastard onto his shoulder than Sam. By the time they finally made it to the living room, Bobby pushed Sam towards the couch. He dragged the guy to the basement and into the panic room by himself.
Upstairs, Sam dropped down onto the couch with a sigh. He slowly slid out of his torn and bloodied jacket before stretching out across the couch. He closed his eyes as the soreness started to make itself known. Minutes passed, and he was close to sleep when Bobby returned to the room and tossed an ice pack on him. The coldness of it startled him, but he gratefully accepted it.
“I reckon the bastard’s human,” Bobby said as he took the chair opposite the couch.
“I was afraid of that,” Sam mumbled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
"It means that I must have done something to him while my soul was on vacation in hell,” Sam snapped. A look Sam took as anger crossed Bobby’s face. “Sorry, Bobby,” he sighed. “I’m just tired.”
Bobby stood from the chair and reached for a blanket that sat on the back of it. He tossed it to Sam. “Then get some rest. I got ‘em tied up downstairs so he won’t be going anywhere soon.” Then, just as he had done hundreds of times before, Bobby gently laid his hand on Sam’s shoulder before heading towards the stairs. The small gesture brought tears of hope to Sam’s eyes before he allowed them to close and sleep to overcome him.
SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN
Sam awoke hours later with a start. A loud clanging noise emanated from below him and sent his instincts on fire. He rose from the couch and grabbed his hunting knife from the table. Sam spared a glance towards the stairs, but it seemed as if Bobby had not woken.
The journey to the panic room was made quick thanks to the adrenaline now pumping through Sam’s veins. Once at the heavy metal door, Sam opened the peephole before walking into the room. The man appeared to still be tied to the chair, but he had somehow tipped it over. Sam sighed and opened the door. The guy may be trying to hurt him, but Sam figured he had just brought it on himself and didn’t want the guy to suffer any extra.
As Sam approached the toppled chair, he thought the man had knocked himself unconscious in all the fuss. He grabbed the legs and back of the chair and carefully righted the fallen piece of furniture. He was about to check the ropes holding the man down, when he suddenly found himself flat on his back with hands at his throat yet again and his knife flying out of his reach.
“Gah,” Sam moaned.
“Should’ve checked the ropes first,” the man smiled. “Never thought I’d see you get soft.”
“What?” Sam managed to rasp out of his constricted throat.
“After what you did…” His hands tightened around Sam’s throat. “You have the nerve to question me?”
“I….don’t…remember….”
“That’s rich Winchester. You mean to tell me you can’t remember the day you ruined my life?!?”
“Guh…”
“Well, let’s take a nice stroll down memory lane, shall we?” He let go of Sam’s throat to reach for the knife Sam had lost in the scuffle. He ran the blunt side of the cold blade down Sam’s cheek and throat before turning the blade and slicing across Sam’s t-shirt clad chest. “Your grandfather recruited my son and me to help you two out on a hunt for Succubus. Only, you neglected to fully disclose the details of your plan to us.” He cut up to Sam’s shoulder; the blood ran down onto the cold cement of the floor. “You decided my son was the perfect bate, only you didn’t give him a head’s up to that!”
The knife was pushed deep into Sam’s shoulder. He gasped at the pain, but kept conscious.
“Because of you, my son can never hunt again. When that bitch got wise to us, she messed him up. Doctors don’t expect him to ever be able to walk again. And that is all thanks to!”
The memories started to flash behind Sam’s eyes. He could see a young hunter standing beside scantily clad woman. Her eyes looked him up and down while her hand trailed across his muscled chest. Then everything changed. Something forced her eyes away from the man, and the seductive look quickly turned to anger. His own image and Samuel flickered across his vision before it was overtaken by the sounds of screaming and images of blood…
A painful twist of the knife brought him back to the present. He screamed as the knife slid in deeper.
“Look….I can’t…can’t explain what I did. But I swear, I am so sorry and should never have…”
“That’s right! You shouldn’t have! And now,” he pulled the knife out, “you are going to pay!”
Sam could see the man about to plunge the knife down into his chest. The blood loss and bruising had left him too weak to knock the guy off of his body. He was close to giving up when he heard the sounds of the door at the top of the steps creak open. The hunter on top of him cursed under his breath before pushing himself off of Sam. The knife remained in his hands, but before he made a dash out of the room he kicked hard into Sam’s abdomen.
The contents of his stomach threatened to make an appearance, and his breath was stolen from his lungs. He could just make out the sounds of yelling and banging before he fell into the bliss of darkness.
Next Chapter