Soulless Justice 4/?
Title: Soulless Justice
Rating: pg-13 for some violence and language
Warnings: Spoilers for season 6
Word Count: ~2060
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! Sorry for the wait!
The combination of the words and the soothing ministrations quickly had Sam falling back to sleep.
The older hunters sat by protectively as a soft light shined through the blinds, casting a glow on Sam’s pale face. The men were stiff from the hard, old chairs with which the hospital furnished their rooms. Neither had gotten much sleep as the noisy hustle and bustle of the hospital echoed outside the closed door. Yet none of it mattered as both Dean and Bobby noticed Sam was starting to wake.
His nose twitched at the nasal cannula, and his brows furrowed at the dull ache thrumming through his body. Through his muddled brain, he could hear familiar voices encouraging him to open his eyes. Despite his better judgment, he pried his tired eyes open. Something was blocking the harsh light from assaulting him. As he regained more of his senses, he realized it was his big brother.
“Hey,” he croaked.
“Nice to see you back with us kiddo,” Dean said around a small smile.
“Thanks,” Sam said, trying to clear his throat. “Water?”
“Sure thing bud,” another voice in the room said.
Sam turned towards the sound to see Bobby pouring water into a cup for him. He gratefully took the object and smiled towards the older hunter.
“Feeling any better this mornin’?” Bobby asked.
Sam mentally took stock of his body while he relished the coolness of the liquid against his sore throat. “A little.” His voice had strengthened some thanks to the water. “My leg aches, and my head still feels kinda fuzzy.”
“Just from the drugs kiddo. They had to pump you pretty full of them to go diggin’ round in your leg for that bullet,” Bobby gently told Sam. “Ya got lucky if ya...”
“How so?” Sam quietly interrupted.
“The bullet didn’t go in too deep. They didn’t have to do surgery on you at least.”
“Oh…that’s good then,” Sam mumbled.
“You ok dude?” Dean asked, the worry obvious in his voice.
“It’s just…what are we gonna do now?” Sam stared up at his brother and father figure with tired, sad eyes.
“We are going to take care of things while you get some more rest, Sammy,” Dean sternly said.
“But Dean…”
“Sam, you have busted ribs, an infected knife wound to your shoulder, and a bullet hole in ya leg. You ain’t exactly gonna be up to workin’ kid,” Bobby’s gruff voice spoke up from the other side of the bed.
Sam sighed. “So what’s the plan?” The other hunters shared a look. “Come on guys…I deserve to know what’s going on. I mean, I’m the one whose ass in on the line here.”
“We really don’t know yet,” Dean huffed. “Sheriff has been keeping an eye out for Drake, but she hasn’t had any leads yet. Best we can guess is the bastard is laying low. He’s got to know you are in here and that you have people around you 24/7. He seems smart enough to know that much at least.”
“Has he been around your place Bobby?”
“I’ve got one of the neighbors keeping watch. Told ‘em I was having issues with a burglar, and he had hurt one of my nephews. As of this mornin’ though, no one’s been snoopin’ around the place.”
“Ok.” Exhaustion was written all over Sam’s face and leaked into his voice.
“Listen,” Dean began, “don’t worry about that right now Sam. You just get some more sleep and focus on getting better. We’ll keep an eye out on everything until we can figure something out. Ok?”
“I guess…”
“Sam…” both Dean and Bobby warned at the same time.
“Ok, ok! I got it!” Sam shifted down under the blankets of the hospital bed. “Thanks guys.” His eyes slid shut before Bobby or Dean had the chance to respond. Instead, the two moved back to their seats to keep watch.
SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN
The infection raged war against Sam’s tired body, keeping in the hospital for days. The fever combined with the blood loss and pain had left Sam completely drained. He could barely muster up enough energy to smile at the doctor handing over his release papers. He was excited to finally be away from all the poking and prodding, he really was. But right now, all he could honestly think of was crawling back under the covers…preferably in his room at Bobby’s.
After Sam signed all the forms and the instructions were given, a nurse came in with a wheelchair for him. With Dean’s help, he eased off the bed and sank into the chair. Dean followed beside him, not commenting on his lack of complaining. Under most circumstances, Sam would be complaining about the chair and asserting his ability to walk on his own. Not today…today he was grateful for the assistance. Although the bullet hadn’t gone into his leg very far, it had weakened the muscles so that walking on it was out of the question. Sam had to hobble around with a crutch. His arm remained in a sling, lying close to his chest. The knife may not have hit anything vital, but the infection had wrecked havoc on the shoulder.
The nurse finally pushed him through the sliding doors of the hospital and the bright sun welcomed on the other side. Bobby stood a few yards away with the Impala already running. The backseat had been made up for him; pillows sat up against the door and a blanket had been laid across the seat. Sam inwardly cheered for all of it.
“There you go sweetie,” the nurse said kindly. “Let’s get you settled so your brother and uncle can get you home. Sound good?”
“Definitely,” Sam sighed. He smiled gratefully at the nurse as she helped Bobby and Dean get him carefully into the car. “Thank you ma’am.”
“Of course dear. And,” the woman reached into a pocket in her scrubs, “here is my card.” She smiled broadly as she handed it over to Bobby. “If you boys need anything at all, just call me hun.”
Bobby blushed but took the card. Both Sam and Dean suppressed the laughter that threatened to escape. “Thank you ma’am,” Bobby managed to mutter.
“Please, call me Lori. And call me if you need anything. I may not be a doctor, but I know about as much as one.” She pointed towards the card in Bobby’s hand. “Has my cell on there, so you’ll be able to reach me just about any time.”
“We appreciate it Lori,” Dean chimed in. “We’ll definitely give you a call if something comes up. Won’t we
Bobby?” Dean sent his best shit-eating grin at Bobby.
The older man wanted to glare daggers at Dean, but refrained from doing so since Lori was still looking up at him. “Yeah, we sure will. Thanks again ma’am.” Bobby was still blushing as he turned away and moved into the passenger seat of the Impala.
Dean took off down the road, driving as carefully as possible so as not to jar his injured brother. When they stopped at a red light, Bobby promptly smacked him upside the back of the head.
“Ow! What the hell Bobby??”
“You know exactly what that is for ya damn idgit!”
Sam could only laugh from the backseat as his brother did his best to play stupid and Bobby scowled at him the rest of the way home.
SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN
Once back at the salvage yard, Dean pulled as close to the steps as possible, not caring about the mud that would be coating the Impala. Bobby climbed out of the car with a shotgun held firmly in his hands. After unlocking the door, he moved to keep watch while Dean half carried Sam inside the house. With one final glance around outside, Bobby followed the boys in and locked the door.
Inside, he found Sam lying on the couch, catching his breath from the walk from the car. “You doing ok kid?”
Sam nodded his head. “Just sore.”
“Need anything?”
Before Sam could answer, Dean walked back in the room with a glass of orange juice and a few pills.
“Already taken care of, Bobby,” Dean said.
Sam gratefully took the juice and the medicine. “Thanks.” He leaned back against the worn cushions of the couch. “You see anything Bobby?”
“No…everything looks bout right, for now at least. Your brother and I will take turns keeping an eye out. See if we can catch ‘em. Have a feelin’ he’ll be showin’ up at night.”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed and rubbed at his eyes.
“Come on Sasquatch,” Dean said as he moved towards the couch. “Let’s get you into bed.”
“I can just stay here. I don’t really feel up to climbing the stairs.”
Dean knew it had to be pretty bad if his brother was actually admitting to that. He reached down and grasped Sam’s good shoulder. “Bobby fixed up the guest room down here for ya. You’re going to take the bed, and I’ll crash on the sofa in there when I’m not keeping watch.”
“Thanks guys. I really appreciate it. I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.”
Bobby walked over to Sam as Dean hoisted him from the couch. He drew the younger man into a small embrace. “Not your fault kid,” he whispered into Sam’s ear before letting him go. Sam smiled up at Bobby, and then shuffled off towards the bedroom with Dean’s assistance. Bobby picked up his shotgun once again, checked it, and then cocked it quickly. His face was cold with anger and determination. No one is hurting my boys…
SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN
The locked clicked under masterful hands. The lock pick kit was tucked back into old jacket before the door was pushed open. It creaked slightly, but not enough to warn the inhabitants to his intrusion. His gun was held out in front of him as he searched for anyone that would get in his way. Nothing mattered to him at the moment. No one could stop him from his mission. He would find Sam Winchester, the bastard that had ruined his life, and finally put an end to everything.
Drake’s confidence grew with each step. It looked empty, the two men who had been by Sam’s side at the hospital appeared to be away from the house. Nothing stood in his way.
He crept towards the back of the house. Drake had seen the blood seeping through Sam’s leg all those days ago; he knew there was no way the hunter could make it up those stairs. He found a door, slightly opened. The closer he got to it, the more he could see. It was obvious it was a bedroom, and Sam had to be hiding in there. Drake just knew it.
The door slid open easily. An eerie grin appeared across Drake’s face as a sleeping Sam came into view. He silently strode to the bed. Once he reached it, he mounted the bed, careful not to wake Sam just yet. He settled himself before wrapping his rough hands around Sam’s neck. As he applied pressure, Sam’s eyes flew open. Panic flashed across his face as his eyes settled on the figure on top of him. Sam struggled to free himself. His shoulder and leg burned from the actions, but Drake did not budge.
He put more pressure on Sam’s neck, cutting off most of his air. Drake couldn’t wait to see the panic flair in Sam’s eyes and the life drain from him. He looked down at Sam, excited to finally have his moment.
But instead of seeing fear and pain, Sam looked directly into Drake’s eyes. Determination and confidence was written all over his face. “You son of a bitch,” Drake mumbled quietly.
Sam smirked up at the man.
That was enough…Drake was determined to get this over with now. His hand blindly searched for his gun. Instead of finding smooth metal, his hand felt thick muscles hidden under flannel. His eyes traveled to where his hand rested. They widened as he found himself face to face with a very pissed off Dean Winchester.
Dean smirked as he grabbed Drake by the throat and hauled him off his baby brother, throwing him against the wall. He saw the butt of Dean’s gun coming towards him before everything went black.
Next Chapter
A/N: I plan on writing a lil fic of how Sam and Bobby met since I sorta hinted at that some in the last chapter.
Rating: pg-13 for some violence and language
Warnings: Spoilers for season 6
Word Count: ~2060
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! Sorry for the wait!
The combination of the words and the soothing ministrations quickly had Sam falling back to sleep.
The older hunters sat by protectively as a soft light shined through the blinds, casting a glow on Sam’s pale face. The men were stiff from the hard, old chairs with which the hospital furnished their rooms. Neither had gotten much sleep as the noisy hustle and bustle of the hospital echoed outside the closed door. Yet none of it mattered as both Dean and Bobby noticed Sam was starting to wake.
His nose twitched at the nasal cannula, and his brows furrowed at the dull ache thrumming through his body. Through his muddled brain, he could hear familiar voices encouraging him to open his eyes. Despite his better judgment, he pried his tired eyes open. Something was blocking the harsh light from assaulting him. As he regained more of his senses, he realized it was his big brother.
“Hey,” he croaked.
“Nice to see you back with us kiddo,” Dean said around a small smile.
“Thanks,” Sam said, trying to clear his throat. “Water?”
“Sure thing bud,” another voice in the room said.
Sam turned towards the sound to see Bobby pouring water into a cup for him. He gratefully took the object and smiled towards the older hunter.
“Feeling any better this mornin’?” Bobby asked.
Sam mentally took stock of his body while he relished the coolness of the liquid against his sore throat. “A little.” His voice had strengthened some thanks to the water. “My leg aches, and my head still feels kinda fuzzy.”
“Just from the drugs kiddo. They had to pump you pretty full of them to go diggin’ round in your leg for that bullet,” Bobby gently told Sam. “Ya got lucky if ya...”
“How so?” Sam quietly interrupted.
“The bullet didn’t go in too deep. They didn’t have to do surgery on you at least.”
“Oh…that’s good then,” Sam mumbled.
“You ok dude?” Dean asked, the worry obvious in his voice.
“It’s just…what are we gonna do now?” Sam stared up at his brother and father figure with tired, sad eyes.
“We are going to take care of things while you get some more rest, Sammy,” Dean sternly said.
“But Dean…”
“Sam, you have busted ribs, an infected knife wound to your shoulder, and a bullet hole in ya leg. You ain’t exactly gonna be up to workin’ kid,” Bobby’s gruff voice spoke up from the other side of the bed.
Sam sighed. “So what’s the plan?” The other hunters shared a look. “Come on guys…I deserve to know what’s going on. I mean, I’m the one whose ass in on the line here.”
“We really don’t know yet,” Dean huffed. “Sheriff has been keeping an eye out for Drake, but she hasn’t had any leads yet. Best we can guess is the bastard is laying low. He’s got to know you are in here and that you have people around you 24/7. He seems smart enough to know that much at least.”
“Has he been around your place Bobby?”
“I’ve got one of the neighbors keeping watch. Told ‘em I was having issues with a burglar, and he had hurt one of my nephews. As of this mornin’ though, no one’s been snoopin’ around the place.”
“Ok.” Exhaustion was written all over Sam’s face and leaked into his voice.
“Listen,” Dean began, “don’t worry about that right now Sam. You just get some more sleep and focus on getting better. We’ll keep an eye out on everything until we can figure something out. Ok?”
“I guess…”
“Sam…” both Dean and Bobby warned at the same time.
“Ok, ok! I got it!” Sam shifted down under the blankets of the hospital bed. “Thanks guys.” His eyes slid shut before Bobby or Dean had the chance to respond. Instead, the two moved back to their seats to keep watch.
SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN
The infection raged war against Sam’s tired body, keeping in the hospital for days. The fever combined with the blood loss and pain had left Sam completely drained. He could barely muster up enough energy to smile at the doctor handing over his release papers. He was excited to finally be away from all the poking and prodding, he really was. But right now, all he could honestly think of was crawling back under the covers…preferably in his room at Bobby’s.
After Sam signed all the forms and the instructions were given, a nurse came in with a wheelchair for him. With Dean’s help, he eased off the bed and sank into the chair. Dean followed beside him, not commenting on his lack of complaining. Under most circumstances, Sam would be complaining about the chair and asserting his ability to walk on his own. Not today…today he was grateful for the assistance. Although the bullet hadn’t gone into his leg very far, it had weakened the muscles so that walking on it was out of the question. Sam had to hobble around with a crutch. His arm remained in a sling, lying close to his chest. The knife may not have hit anything vital, but the infection had wrecked havoc on the shoulder.
The nurse finally pushed him through the sliding doors of the hospital and the bright sun welcomed on the other side. Bobby stood a few yards away with the Impala already running. The backseat had been made up for him; pillows sat up against the door and a blanket had been laid across the seat. Sam inwardly cheered for all of it.
“There you go sweetie,” the nurse said kindly. “Let’s get you settled so your brother and uncle can get you home. Sound good?”
“Definitely,” Sam sighed. He smiled gratefully at the nurse as she helped Bobby and Dean get him carefully into the car. “Thank you ma’am.”
“Of course dear. And,” the woman reached into a pocket in her scrubs, “here is my card.” She smiled broadly as she handed it over to Bobby. “If you boys need anything at all, just call me hun.”
Bobby blushed but took the card. Both Sam and Dean suppressed the laughter that threatened to escape. “Thank you ma’am,” Bobby managed to mutter.
“Please, call me Lori. And call me if you need anything. I may not be a doctor, but I know about as much as one.” She pointed towards the card in Bobby’s hand. “Has my cell on there, so you’ll be able to reach me just about any time.”
“We appreciate it Lori,” Dean chimed in. “We’ll definitely give you a call if something comes up. Won’t we
Bobby?” Dean sent his best shit-eating grin at Bobby.
The older man wanted to glare daggers at Dean, but refrained from doing so since Lori was still looking up at him. “Yeah, we sure will. Thanks again ma’am.” Bobby was still blushing as he turned away and moved into the passenger seat of the Impala.
Dean took off down the road, driving as carefully as possible so as not to jar his injured brother. When they stopped at a red light, Bobby promptly smacked him upside the back of the head.
“Ow! What the hell Bobby??”
“You know exactly what that is for ya damn idgit!”
Sam could only laugh from the backseat as his brother did his best to play stupid and Bobby scowled at him the rest of the way home.
SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN
Once back at the salvage yard, Dean pulled as close to the steps as possible, not caring about the mud that would be coating the Impala. Bobby climbed out of the car with a shotgun held firmly in his hands. After unlocking the door, he moved to keep watch while Dean half carried Sam inside the house. With one final glance around outside, Bobby followed the boys in and locked the door.
Inside, he found Sam lying on the couch, catching his breath from the walk from the car. “You doing ok kid?”
Sam nodded his head. “Just sore.”
“Need anything?”
Before Sam could answer, Dean walked back in the room with a glass of orange juice and a few pills.
“Already taken care of, Bobby,” Dean said.
Sam gratefully took the juice and the medicine. “Thanks.” He leaned back against the worn cushions of the couch. “You see anything Bobby?”
“No…everything looks bout right, for now at least. Your brother and I will take turns keeping an eye out. See if we can catch ‘em. Have a feelin’ he’ll be showin’ up at night.”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed and rubbed at his eyes.
“Come on Sasquatch,” Dean said as he moved towards the couch. “Let’s get you into bed.”
“I can just stay here. I don’t really feel up to climbing the stairs.”
Dean knew it had to be pretty bad if his brother was actually admitting to that. He reached down and grasped Sam’s good shoulder. “Bobby fixed up the guest room down here for ya. You’re going to take the bed, and I’ll crash on the sofa in there when I’m not keeping watch.”
“Thanks guys. I really appreciate it. I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.”
Bobby walked over to Sam as Dean hoisted him from the couch. He drew the younger man into a small embrace. “Not your fault kid,” he whispered into Sam’s ear before letting him go. Sam smiled up at Bobby, and then shuffled off towards the bedroom with Dean’s assistance. Bobby picked up his shotgun once again, checked it, and then cocked it quickly. His face was cold with anger and determination. No one is hurting my boys…
SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN
The locked clicked under masterful hands. The lock pick kit was tucked back into old jacket before the door was pushed open. It creaked slightly, but not enough to warn the inhabitants to his intrusion. His gun was held out in front of him as he searched for anyone that would get in his way. Nothing mattered to him at the moment. No one could stop him from his mission. He would find Sam Winchester, the bastard that had ruined his life, and finally put an end to everything.
Drake’s confidence grew with each step. It looked empty, the two men who had been by Sam’s side at the hospital appeared to be away from the house. Nothing stood in his way.
He crept towards the back of the house. Drake had seen the blood seeping through Sam’s leg all those days ago; he knew there was no way the hunter could make it up those stairs. He found a door, slightly opened. The closer he got to it, the more he could see. It was obvious it was a bedroom, and Sam had to be hiding in there. Drake just knew it.
The door slid open easily. An eerie grin appeared across Drake’s face as a sleeping Sam came into view. He silently strode to the bed. Once he reached it, he mounted the bed, careful not to wake Sam just yet. He settled himself before wrapping his rough hands around Sam’s neck. As he applied pressure, Sam’s eyes flew open. Panic flashed across his face as his eyes settled on the figure on top of him. Sam struggled to free himself. His shoulder and leg burned from the actions, but Drake did not budge.
He put more pressure on Sam’s neck, cutting off most of his air. Drake couldn’t wait to see the panic flair in Sam’s eyes and the life drain from him. He looked down at Sam, excited to finally have his moment.
But instead of seeing fear and pain, Sam looked directly into Drake’s eyes. Determination and confidence was written all over his face. “You son of a bitch,” Drake mumbled quietly.
Sam smirked up at the man.
That was enough…Drake was determined to get this over with now. His hand blindly searched for his gun. Instead of finding smooth metal, his hand felt thick muscles hidden under flannel. His eyes traveled to where his hand rested. They widened as he found himself face to face with a very pissed off Dean Winchester.
Dean smirked as he grabbed Drake by the throat and hauled him off his baby brother, throwing him against the wall. He saw the butt of Dean’s gun coming towards him before everything went black.
Next Chapter
A/N: I plan on writing a lil fic of how Sam and Bobby met since I sorta hinted at that some in the last chapter.