Untitled for rince1wind - 2/2
"The hell?" Dean frowned. And then the lights flickered.
"Oh, Dean. I'm actually really glad you're back," Natalie murmured. And then her eyes turned black. Dean cursed. "Can you imagine my surprise? I was just taking a normal, boring vacation in a town so boring the people don’t even notice a demon around. I mean, really," Natalie rolled her eyes. "What do you have to do to get noticed around here?" She asked.
"Oh, I dunno," Dean said, slowly reaching for his gun.
"Uh uh uh," Natalie crooned, and with a twist of her hand, sent Dean flying across the room and slamming into a wall. "It's not polite to disturb a lady when she's talking," Natalie chided.
"Sorry 'bout that," Dean said through gritted teeth and pulled himself back to his feet. "You see a lady around, you let me know."
"Funny," Natalie smiled. "It sure did brighten up my day a little. Finding the Winchester brothers as my very own vacation entertainment package."
"Yeah, well. Glad we could help," Dean said, and pointed his gun at the possessed woman.
"Oh, come on, Dean. You're not going to shoot poor Natalie, are you?" The woman smiled and slowly made her way towards Dean. "She's in here," she said, running her hands along her body, "She has no idea what's going on."
"You know, I actually heard that speech before," Dean said, "You demons aren’t too original, are you?"
"Well, I'm sure you've heard this before, too," Natalie said, eying Dean like he was a piece of candy. She walked right into his gun and leaned in closer, close enough to whisper in his ear. "There's only one Winchester brother we're interested in, and honey, you ain't him."
Sam was pounding the door with everything he had, but it didn’t do much good. Dean looked at the door, but couldn’t do much about it. Not right now, anyway.
"You sure 'bout that?" He asked, stalling for time. "I'm usually very popular with the ladies."
"Oh, I'll bet," Natalie smirked. "Congratulations," she added.
Dean frowned. "For what?" He asked.
"For learning a new skill," Natalie answered, and turned away from him. "I hear a lot of people would love to learn how to fly. This is your chance," she said, and sent Dean flying in the other direction - right at the large window overlooking the muddy back yard.
The window that broke into countless little sharp shards as Dean flew through it and down a three story drop.
"Well, I'm definitely going to have some great vacation stories now," Natalie said, satisfied. "Quit that pounding Sammy, you're gonna hurt yourself," she called out to Sam. "I want in on the fun," she added with a smirk, and allowed the door to swing open.
***
Sam stumbled in, hand still raised as if to keep hammering on the door. One quick look around the room made it clear to him that something was missing.
"Dean?" Sam cried, and Natalie started laughing.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Sam. Felt a little too crowded in here, so Dean decided to take a little… curtain call," she said.
Sam raised his gun at her and, without turning his back on Natalie, moved over to the broken window and peered outside.
It was raining again, the moon hidden under a dark blanket of clouds. The only light outside was coming from the building itself. It was hardly enough to see anything by. The scarce light reflected off the broken glass surrounded… something. It was too hard to tell, what with the rain and the mud and the darkness. Anyone else might have just written it off as a rock or a large dog lying in the mud. But Sam would recognize his brother everywhere.
"Dean!" Sam cried, leaning against the broken window and trying to see better, trying to see his brother move, trying to see Dean get up and tell him everything was okay. That a three story drop was nothing to him.
That he wasn’t lying there in the mud, dying. Or worse.
But Dean didn’t move. He didn’t call out to Sam saying he was okay. He didn’t call out saying he was hurt.
He was just lying there in the mud, glass scattered all around.
"Guess he didn’t figure out the flying thing after all," Natalie noted, peering out from the window. "Oh, well."
"You think this is funny?" Sam asked, full of rage.
Natalie shrugged. "Should have seen the look on his face," she smiled.
"I'm going to kill you," Sam promised.
"Such big words from someone who can't even scratch his own nose," Natalie clicked her tongue, and with a flick of her wrist, pinned Sam to a wall.
Sam tried fighting it, straining every muscle he could, but there was no use. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t help Dean.
"You know, Sam, you are going to make me a very powerful demon," Natalie said.
"Won't do you any good when I kill you," Sam spat, and started reciting an exorcism.
Natalie shook her head, her arms crossed across her chest, and slowly walked over to where Sam was still struggling to get free.
"Now why would you go and spoil our fun?" She asked, and then stuffed a hand-stitched doily down Sam's throat.
Sam choked and gagged on the old doily, but there was nothing he could do about it.
"Good," Natalie said. "You know, it's very impolite to disturb someone who's talking. Now, where was I?"
Sam shot her a seething glare.
"Oh, right," Natalie said, "Little Sammy Winchester is going to be my ticket to the top," she added.
Sam tried talking back, but it wasn’t the easiest thing to do with a dusty doily shoved down his throat. Natalie smiled at his attempts, and got far too up close and personal. Sam flinched when her hand slithered down his arm and onto his belt buckle.
"Oh, come on, don’t be shy," she murmured in his ear, "Your brother certainly didn’t mind."
Sam started the exorcism again, because doily or not, he wasn’t going to give this bitch the satisfaction.
"Anyway, you are the ace up my sleeve, if you know what I'm talking about," Natalie whispered in his ear. "I give you to Azazel, and I'll have my pick of everything I ever dreamed of." She pulled the doily out of Sam's mouth. "You know, you and I can still have some fun before he gets here," she offered, "I don’t suppose you'll have much fun after he does."
"Go to hell," Sam spat.
"After you, sweetheart," Natalie shot back, and shoved the doily back in his mouth. "Oh, hey, you mind lending me some blood?" She asked, "I really should have just slit Dean's throat, but this was funnier," she said, and pulled out a pocket knife.
Sam shot a string of curses at her that would have made his brother proud. Unfortunately, the gag in his mouth prevented the demon from understanding them.
Natalie got into Sam's personal space again, and touched her knife to his throat, making Sam freeze. "You know, you are a pretty specimen," she noted, "It would be a shame to bleed you dry, so stop with all the wriggling, would you?"
Sam glared at her as her knife traveled down his neck and onto his chest, scraping his skin. Natalie smirked and gave him a little kiss on the cheek.
"Don’t worry, Sam. I'm not gonna kill you, I'll just take enough to…" she stumbled. "Huh." Pulling back, Natalie scratched her head. "Forgot the challis," she explained. "Be a dear and hang on for a couple of minutes, would you?" She asked, standing on the tips of her toes to pat Sam on the head. She smirked again, and then left the attic.
Sam struggled as hard as he could, but just like the cabin in those woods, back when the Demon was wearing his father's skin, Sam could not break free.
He focused everything he had on just trying to move, just trying to free himself long enough to get to his brother.
The thought of Dean being tossed out the window like an unwanted rag doll, the thought of his brother lying in the mud, hurting, bleeding. The thought that Dean might already be dead tore at Sam's heart.
He cried out in frustration, choking on the doily, and banged his head against the wall. This was ridiculous. He'd done this before, he'd used his powers. Why couldn’t he do it again?
"So nice of you to have waited," Natalie said when she walked back into the room, a soup bowl in hand.
Sam frowned at the bowl.
"I know, I know," Natalie said, "Not much of a challis, but hey, it works," she shrugged. "Now where were we?"
With one precise movement, she cut Sam's arm, letting the blood drip into the soup bowl.
"Aw, look at that," she murmured, "So red and tasty." She dipped her finger in Sam's blood and then put it in her mouth, sucking the finger clean. She closed her eyes in delight. "No wonder you're the toy surprise," Natalie said softly.
Sam frowned at that.
"Well. I'll just make a quick phone call, and then you and I can chat, okay?" Natalie asked and started chanting over blood.
Sam swallowed hard and choked. He tried coughing, but with his mouth gagged, it only made things worse.
"Quiet," Natalie snapped at him, before going back to her chanting.
The gunshot caught both Natalie and Sam by surprise.
The blood-filled soup bowl in Natalie's hands was now no more than broken pieces of ceramics, the blood staining both Natalie's clothes and the floorboards.
"We didn’t really get the chance to talk much before," Dean growled, "I meant to tell you you were a real bitch."
Sam closed his eyes in relief at seeing Dean standing on his feet, but it didn’t stop him from worrying. Dean looked like shit warmed over. His face and arms were bleeding, and there were still shards of glass in some of the cuts. Sam knew though, that he couldn’t see the real damage. Not yet. Not with mud covering Dean from head to toe. Not with mud in those cuts. Not with the way Dean's left hand hung limply by his side.
Sam knew his brother better than anyone else in the world. He knew Dean wouldn’t stop until the demon was gone and they were both out of danger. He also knew the only reason Dean was vertical at the moment was because he had to rescue his little brother yet again.
"Dean," Natalie said coolly. "Not really one to take a hint, are you?"
"Oh, I take a hint alright. Do you?" Dean bit back.
"Come on, you don’t really think a gun is going to stop me?" Natalie sneered.
"What this?" Dean raised his gun, and Sam was terrified to see his brother's hand shaking. "Nah, this was just for the effect," Dean went on, and then tossed the gun away. "This, though, this will work," he added. He grimaced in pain as he reached into his coat pocket and took something out.
"What, are you going to bore me to death reading me from your diary?" Natalie scoffed.
"I don’t know, could work," Dean replied, and started reading.
Sam didn’t even need to hear the words. He recognized his Dad's journal the moment Dean took it out of his pocket.
"Oh, come on," Natalie rolled her eyes. "Your brother tried that before. Lotta good that did him," she noted.
Dean didn’t miss a beat. He kept stumbling over the Latin, ignoring Natalie's taunts. Sam tried warning him, tried calling for him, but all he managed was choking on the damn gag again.
Dean noticed though. He kept chanting as he made his way to Sam and removed the gag from his mouth.
Natalie twitched as she fought the exorcism. "I am going to flay your skin off and wear it," she promised in a voice full of hate. Dean didn’t even have the time to look up at her before he was flung across the room and smashed against a wall.
Dean fell to the ground in an unconscious heap, but Sam never lost a beat and carried on with the exorcism until a puff of black smoke rose from Natalie's mouth and shot out the broken window, and Natalie's unconscious body fell to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut.
With the demon gone, Sam was now free of its hold. He rushed over to his brother, checking for pulse. He closed his eyes in relief when he found a pulse and sent out a prayer of thanks to anyone listening. Slapping Dean's cheeks to rouse him, it took longer than Sam was comfortable with getting Dean to come to.
"Dean?" Sam asked apprehensively.
"The bitch gone?" Dean asked in a small voice.
"Yeah," Sam answered.
"Good," Dean said, closing his eyes again. "I'm just gonna take a little nap."
Sam was about to reply when red and blue lights reflected on the wall across from the broken window. Sam frowned and quickly got to his feet, moving over to the window. He cursed at the sight of two police cars pulling in.
"Damn it," Sam cursed and rushed over to his brother. "Come on, Dean, we gotta get outta here."
"Five more minutes," Dean mumbled.
"No, now," Sam pressed, and tried getting Dean to his feat.
"Ow! Shit! Sam," Dean breathed, now completely awake.
Sam grimaced in sympathy. "Broken ribs?"
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, just breathing through the pain.
"Dean, we don’t have time. The cops are right outside," Sam urged.
Dean cursed. "The hell are the cops here?" He asked.
"I think the woman called them. Or the demon did," Sam suggested. "Doesn’t matter. They're looking for you, we have to get out of here. Can you walk?"
"If I have to," Dean replied.
"Well, you have to," Sam said.
Dean cursed again. Sam helped his brother up, half-carrying him down the stairs. They could hear the police car doors creak open and close.
"Dean," Sam started, but didn’t go on.
"We're screwed," Dean breathed.
"Just give me a moment to think," Sam said, pushing his hair away from his face.
"She's the sheriff's niece, Sam. And right now she's lying in the attic covered in blood. You really think we have time to think?" Dean snapped.
"Well, what do you suggest we do?" Sam snapped back.
They both froze at the sound of the front door opening.
***
"Stupid idea," Sam muttered through gritted teeth. "Stupid, moronic, idiotic…"
"Worked, didn’t it?" Dean cut him off.
"You do realize our prints are all over the place, right? Not to mention Natalie saw us," Sam pointed out.
"If she's even still alive," Dean mused, "Oh great. Another murder charge against me. Henricksen would love that."
"Would you shut up and get in the car before someone hears you?" Sam hushed him. "Can't believe we jumped out a window," he muttered, shaking his head.
"Hey, first time didn’t kill me. I doubt jumping out a first story window would," Dean remarked, limping heavily.
"Give me the keys," Sam snapped.
Dean frowned. "Why?"
"Because you look like you're about to pass out, and I don’t really want to fly through the windshield, that's why."
Dean didn’t even argue. He just let out a breath and fished around his pocket, producing the car keys and tossing them over to Sam. "Time to put this town in the rear-view," he said.
"Actually, we have to swing by the motel first."
"Why?"
"Because," Sam said, and turned the key in the ignition, "I'm still not sure you don’t have a concussion, you still have glass all over you, and all our stuff is still at the room."
"We'll get new stuff," Dean said.
"You need to clean up. There's mud all over you, and you're all cut to hell, man."
"I'll just clean up at the next motel, when it's safe."
"You probably need stitches," Sam pushed.
"Yeah," Dean relented, "But there's a first aid kit under the seat. We could just stop somewhere and you could stitch me up."
"My computer's in the room," Sam insisted.
"I'll get you a new computer," Dean said. Sam glanced over at him. Dean would recognize that look everywhere. He sighed. "What did you do?"
"I forgot my wallet," Sam said in a small voice.
Dean ran a hand over his face and flinched when he accidentally touched an open cut. He pulled a small piece of glass out of it, tossing it out the window.
"By the way," Sam said, "You got tossed around the room."
Dean looked at his brother without understanding.
Sam shrugged. "I'm just saying," he said, keeping his eyes on the road. "We did have a bet…"
Dean punched his arm. Hard.
"Sam?"
"You're really hurt aren’t you?" Sam asked worriedly, "Your five year old girlfriend hits harder than that, man."
Dean punched him again, wincing as the movement disturbed his broken ribs. "Next time there's a case in a museum?"
"Make sure it's about haunted weapons?" Sam guessed.
"You bet."
***
Dean barely had the strength to get out of the car. He felt like… well, he felt like he'd been tossed out a window. Twice.
"You okay, man?" Sam asked.
Dean didn’t even bother to answer.
"Just get in the shower, and I'll pack up our stuff," Sam said.
Dean's only reply was a grunt as he limped heavily towards the bathroom.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay in there?" Sam asked apprehensively.
"Sam, I'm not letting you in the shower with me," Dean said gruffly.
"Well, call if you need anything," Sam relented as Dean disappeared inside the bathroom.
He was out a moment later. Sam looked up from where he was packing their clothes.
"Maybe you should pop my shoulder back in first," Dean said, "I can't get my shirt off."
Sam nodded, helping Dean to the bed. "You okay with this, man? I don’t want to give you anything before you get in the shower."
"Just give me some liquor," Dean said.
"I don’t know," Sam muttered, "Drugs and pills are a bad idea."
"So's falling out windows," Dean breathed. "Dude, my duffle, outer pocket. I've got some whiskey in a flask."
Sam frowned, but brought the alcohol anyway. He waited until Dean managed a sip and then popped his shoulder back in without warning.
Dean spat out the alcohol, crying out in pain, and cursed for a full minute.
"You okay?" Sam asked.
"Sonofabitch," Dean breathed.
"Go take a shower. We need to clean these cuts out or you'll get an infection."
"Urgh," Dean groaned, "Just shoot me."
"And give the cops more reason to come after us? I don’t think so. Go take a shower or I'm coming with," Sam threatened.
Dean looked like a zombie making his way to the shower, but he looked halfway decent coming out, and the time he'd spent showering gave Sam the chance to get all their stuff into the blue Honda they "borrowed".
The sky was pinking up by the time Sam had finished cleaning and stitching all of Dean's cuts. He made a mental note to stop at a drug store as soon as possible, because Dean was already developing a fever.
Dean was asleep, passed out from the pain over an hour ago. Sam was tempted to just let him sleep. After all, they hid the car and no one was looking for them specifically yet.
Sam got out of the room and walked over to the main office to get himself a cup of coffee. It was lukewarm at best, but it was caffeinated, which was good enough for the moment.
He almost dropped the Styrofoam cup when he noticed the police cruiser pulling into the parking lot.
Cursing, Sam quickly made his way back to the room. He left the door open and rushed over to his brother. "C'mon Dean, time to go," Sam said and slapped Dean's thigh.
"Wha?"
"We gotta get out of here," Sam urged, "Now."
"Five more minutes," Dean mumbled.
"Cops are right outside," Sam said, and that was enough to get Dean moving.
They were almost free and clear when it happened. Almost made it out without anyone noticing. They were by the car, Sam was helping Dean into the back seat when -
"Why do you have so many bandages on your face? Are you playing dress up?"
Dean groaned, letting his head drop.
"Can I play too? My Mom got us these really cool band-aids. They have Disney princesses on them!"
"Sam?" Dean pleaded helplessly, unable to look at the little six-year-old in pigtails and pink plastic boots.
Sam smiled, eyes darting towards the cops making their way out of the main office, along with the night manager. "Um, listen, kid, we're not really playing dress up," he said.
The girl frowned. "Then what are you doing? And where's your car?" She asked, hands over her hips with her stuffed doll dangling by her side.
Sam was an excellent liar. He had a pretty decent poker face, could make up stories in the drop of a hat. Unfortunately, none of them came to mind at the moment.
"Hey, Debbie," Dean cut in, but that only made the girl's eyes narrow.
"Darlene," the girl corrected with emphasis.
"Right," Dean drawled and smiled what he thought was a hundred megawatt smile, but looked more like a five megawatt smile, what with all the cuts and butterfly bandages to his face. "Darlene, 'cause you're a real darlin'," he said and winked.
Only Dean Winchester could have made that line work.
Sam actually rolled his eyes when Darlene blushed and beamed at Dean.
"So listen, Darlene, me and my buddy here, we really have to go to work."
Darlene frowned again. "But you're all scratched up," she said.
"Right," Dean said, leaning heavily against the car, his busted ankle throbbing. "Well, see, that's because last night, my friend and I saw a kitty stuck up in a tree and we helped it down."
"The kitty scratched you?" Darlene asked, her eyes as big as saucers.
"It was just scared," Sam intervened awkwardly, and quickly turned so his back would block both himself and his brother from the cop's view.
"Can I play with the kitty?" Darlene asked.
"Dude, we gotta split. Now," Sam said in an undertone.
"You know what? Why don’t you come play with it after we get back from work," Dean suggested.
"You're leaving?" Darlene asked in a small, extremely high pitched voice, and attached herself onto Dean's leg.
Dean winced in pain. "Sam, get her the hell off me," Dean bit out.
"We're coming back though," Sam lied. "You'll play with the kitty when we get back, okay?"
"Promise?" The girl asked, and damn if her eyes didn’t triple in size and got all watery.
"Sure," Dean lied, and it was only a testament to how much pain he was in. Dean hated lying to kids.
"See you later," Sam said quickly, shoving Dean in the car and quickly making his way to the driver's seat.
"Okay! Bye!" The girl called and waved just as the cops made it to Sam and Dean's room. Sam cringed, putting the car in drive, and drove out of there so fast he splattered mud everywhere. He just hoped it'd missed the little girl.
He could see the cops in the rear view mirror, thought, and the word crap had lost its meaning a few precious minutes ago.
"Hey, Sam?"
"You want me to turn back so you can have one more tea party with your girlfriend?"
Dean glowered at the back of his brother's head. "Should've choked you with a quilt when I had the chance," he growled.
Sam smiled and kept on driving.
***
A/N/N: The prompts I used were: Dean should be quite badass. He gets injured pretty badly somewhere along the way doing something breathtakingly tough. Sam is, of course, pretty badass himself… and Sam and Dean have to leave somewhere fast to deal with an emergency. They're slowed down by a couple of women (or a man and a woman), both of whom fancy Dean, and something has to be done quick to get out of there (the little girl was one, Sam was the other…)