Fic: Vengeance (4/9)

[jedisapphire]

Chapter III: Desperation

Chapter IV: Talking

Dean didn't struggle as he was dragged away. There were two men lugging Sam after him, and as long as he and his brother were being taken to the same place, he wasn't going to argue.

He was hauled down a long corridor to an open door. The men threw him inside and backed away so that the men holding Sam could get to the door. Dean scrambled to his feet, but he was too late to ease Sam from their grip, and he flinched when he heard the thud of Sam's head hitting the floor as the men dropped him.

"You want to go a little easy on him?" Dean demanded, dropping to his knees by his brother. "He's banged up enough as it is."

The men laughed, and one said, "Not like he's got much longer to suffer anyway."

Seething, but knowing that trying to escape would only lead to pissing Owen off and probably making him hurt Sam more, Dean waited until the man had shut the door and shot the bolt before he bent over his brother and patted his cheek.

"Sammy?" he said gently. "Come on, Sammy, look at me." Sam mumbled something, turning his face into Dean's palm. Dean couldn't help a little smile at that. "Come on, kiddo."

Sam's eyes opened to half-mast. Dean managed to grin at him, although the pain in Sam's face was heartbreaking.

"That's my boy. OK, kiddo, you're going to have to work with me a bit. I'm going to get you up, get you settled, and then I'm going to check how badly you're hurt. OK?"

"Dean," Sam mumbled.

Dean took it for the agreement it was and got to work. He went slowly - there was no way to do it without hurting Sam; there wasn't an inch of unmarked skin for Dean to put his hands on - but he wanted to spare his brother as much pain as he possibly could.

It took fifteen minutes, but in the end Dean managed to get them into a relatively comfortable position: Dean on the floor with his back to the wall, Sam securely held to him with his shoulder - the least injured part of him - resting on Dean's chest and Dean's arm slung around his waist.

"Still awake?" Dean murmured, smiling when Sam mumbled assent. "Good boy. You want to open your eyes for me?"

Sam flinched, but he opened them.

And then he flinched again, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face into Dean's collarbone.

"Hey," Dean said, running a hand through Sam's hair, simultaneously soothing him and checking for head injuries. "What's wrong?" Sam shook his head. Dean wished to God he could hold his brother closer, but Sam was hurt. "Come on, Sammy. Please talk to me."

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, so softly Dean had to strain to hear it. His voice was hoarse; he must have wrecked it screaming. The thought made Dean want to cry. "I'm trying… Can't… help it."

"Trying what, Sammy?"

"Not to see… him… Trying, Dean… but he's there." A tiny sob, muffled in Dean's collar. "S-s-sorry… After th-they… started -"

"Hey." Dean stilled his hand, letting it rest on the back of Sam's head. "Who's there? Lucifer?"

"I'm sorry," Sam choked. "T-trying to… but so… so much like… the Cage… and -"

"Sam," Dean said sharply.

Sam subsided with another choked-off sob.

Dean rubbed his brother's head, remembering his own words the previous night.

You know what's worse than being drunk, Sam? Seeing Lucifer everywhere.

Dean couldn't believe he'd said that.

Yeah, way to go, Dean. Next time they're having the Brother of the Year Awards maybe you'll get the Lifetime Achievement for Sucking.

Dean opened his mouth to apologize and then shut it again.

Sam was hurting, partly because Dean had hurt him, partly because Dean hadn't been there to help when those sons of bitches had come after him. He was in pain, and he was very naturally having trouble keeping his head straight, and thanks to Dean he was feeling guilty about it all.

I can't trust you to have my back.

Sam always had his back. Always.

Dean, on the other hand… He couldn't even touch Sam's back right then because it was covered in bloody lacerations because Dean had been more focused on nailing a girl than on being there for his brother. And he'd lashed out at his brother, his Sammy who'd only been trying to help him, who was so strong Dean didn't even have words for it, who was dealing with the after-effects of almost two hundred years of being tortured personally by Lucifer all by himself because Dean was too busy moping to be any good.

And Dean had made Sam feel weak.

Oh, yeah. Joke of the century, right there.

Dean rested his cheek on Sam's head. He had a lot to apologize for, and a lot to make up for, but this wasn't the time to burden Sam with Dean's guilt. He could grovel later. Right now, Sam needed him to be strong for both of them.

"It's OK, Sammy," Dean murmured. "It's OK. I know you're trying. You're doing great, kiddo. I'm so proud of you. Don't worry about Lucifer. I'm here. He can't get you while I'm here."

Then Sam started to full-on sob, tears wetting Dean's shirt. Dean held him and rocked him and whispered to him and wondered how the hell anyone could have brought themselves to hurt his baby brother.

Sam was Sam, so it didn't take him long to settle down. Then he apologized again, which made Dean feel even more of a heel.

"Shhh," Dean murmured, picking up Sam's injured hand. Sam flinched, but he didn't say anything as Dean carefully touched and wiggled his fingers. They were dislocated, and Sam's hand was too swollen for Dean to fix it. He needed to get his brother to a doctor.

Dean lowered Sam's hand to rest on his knee. "Better?" he asked after a minute. Sam nodded into his shoulder. "I'm going to shift you around a little - I need to see what else they've done to you. I'll try not to hurt you, but I have to see how bad it is."

"OK," Sam mumbled.

Dean sat Sam up and triaged him as quickly and carefully as he could.

Sam had been badly beaten, probably whipped. Dean could feel a couple of broken ribs, and the way Sam winced when he ran a light hand over his chest meant there were some bruised ones, too.

The hopeful news was that it didn't look life-threatening - the poor kid was in a lot of pain, and had lost an unhealthy amount of blood, but they'd dealt with worse. The guys had obviously been more interested in hurting him than in doing him any permanent damage. If Dean could manage to pull himself together, salvage something from this utterly screwed-up day and get them outbefore any of the wounds got infected, Sam would eventually heal.

They'd be fine.

But Dean's hands were bloody now, and he didn't know if that would ever go away.

He pulled Sam back into his arms, letting his baby brother squirm until he found a bearable position. He was shivering - maybe shock, maybe the cold - but Dean didn't think it would be a good idea to give Sam one of his own shirts. They'd be too small and they might chafe the injuries.

Instead, he rubbed Sam's shoulders and upper arms, trying to get the circulation going.

Sam sighed, a little sound that made Dean smile. "You want to tell me what's going on?" he asked.

"Owen… Jacob's dad. Amy's…"

"Yeah," Dean said. "I figured. What happened to you?"

"Owen… lied."

Dean could tell Sam was having difficulty getting words out, and he hated pushing him. He had to know, though. Anything that could help him get Sam out alive, he had to know. "What did he lie about?"

"Made it sound… he was… one of… good guys."

Dean couldn't help laughing as he ran a hand over Sam's head. "Only you would believe something like that, kiddo. He came to you?"

"Yeah… Jacob first… saw him… when they… brought me… Dean, that poor kid…"

"Sam," Dean said. He didn't want to say something he'd regret, but right then, with Sam's blood on his shirt and Sam trembling in his arms, he couldn't summon up a lot of sympathy for Jacob. "Focus. What happened?"

"Sorry. Jacob called… a lot… Said he was… trouble… help… Said… hadn't killed… think that's true… I told him…"

"What?" Dean asked when Sam stopped talking.

"Wait… Said you'd be… back… Tried to call…"

Dean brushed damp hair off Sam's face. "I know you did, Sammy. I'm so sorry."

"Thought… you were… thought… something… happened…"

Dean blinked back traitorous tears. He knew exactly what Sam had thought. It was the same thing he'd thought when he'd called Sam's number and only got his voicemail. And Dean didn't have Lucifer in his head trying to make everything worse.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. It's OK. I'm here now. I'm not going to leave you… Do you know what Owen's after?"

"No," Sam mumbled. "He tried… ritual. Think… think that's… real. Ritual… for Jacob… Blood."

"He needed blood. Took your blood?" Sam nodded. "For Jacob? To make him human?"

"Mmhmm… And revenge." Sam shivered again, and Dean wrapped one arm very gently around his shoulders. "Worked… kind of."

"It worked? Jacob's human now?"

"Animal."

Dean grinned, thanking his lucky stars that he had so much experience deciphering Sam's single-word answers. "You mean Jacob can get by with animal pituitaries now?"

"Said."

"Who said? Jacob?"

"Mmhmm."

"And revenge, huh?" Dean sighed. "That was why he took you."

Sam let out a breath. "You're… not surprised…"

"Surprised? Hell, no. Are you?" Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder. "I know what I'd be doing if someone had killed you. Hell, I know what I'm going to do to Owen as soon as I've got you somewhere safe."

Sam gave a weak smile. "Knew… you'd… come."

That was almost absolution.

"Of course you did, kiddo. You're not stupid enough to think I'd let them hurt you and not do anything about it." Sam opened his mouth, but Dean shushed him. "That's enough, now, Sammy. Save your strength. Don't want you talking again unless that geek brain of yours has worked out a way we can blow this joint."

"You talk."

"Demanding little bitch, aren't you?" Dean relaxed his grip, still holding Sam close enough to reassure him - to reassure them both - but giving him room to move if he wanted to. "OK, then. I'll talk. You know what we need, Sam? A vacation." Sam raised his eyebrows and Dean shrugged. "Hey, I'm not you. You want geek talk, wait till you're well enough to do it yourself. Anyway, where was I? Vacation. How does Florida sound to you?"

"Tampa?"

Sam's eye was twinkling, and Dean couldn't help an answering snicker. "Shut up. You're not supposed to be speaking right now, especially if you're going to show such a lack of respect for your elders. Anyway, dude, the beaches in Florida…"

Dean rambled, not really sure what he was talking about and not really caring. He knew what Sam needed was the sound of his voice. The words didn't really matter.

He was halfway through the story of Sam's first word ("Dean", obviously, like there was any doubt of that) when the door opened. Dean fell silent, but he didn't react beyond tightening his grip on Sam.

Four men filed into the room, all with guns trained on the semiconscious hunter in Dean's arms.

Dean felt frustration building. If they'd been pointing their guns at him he would've risked it, but he wasn't going to chance getting Sam shot when he was already hurt so badly.

And the sons of bitches knew that, of course.

One of them grinned at Dean, revealing a gold tooth. "Not so cocky now, are you? Thinking that you shouldn't have been so trigger-happy?"

No, what Dean was thinking was that he was going to wipe that smug grin right off Gold Tooth's face along with teaching him Dean Winchester Rule Number One of Firearm Safety: Do not point your freaking weapon at my brother, moron.

He forced the anger back. He needed to stay focused, he needed to stay calm and wait for his chance to get Sam out.

"What do you want?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Boss sent us with a message. He says you have two minutes to say your goodbyes to your baby brother, and then he's coming."

Right. Screw that controlling anger thing. These guys were too dumb to get it anyway.

"Listen, knucklehead," Dean snarled, "if your boss upsets Sam, or hurts Sam, or tries to kill Sam, or does anything other than come here and grovel, I'm going to add items to the list of ways I'm going to make him suffer. And he does not want that to happen."

Gold Tooth laughed. "He said you'd say that. He also said to tell you that he's not going to kill your precious little Sammy." A heartbeat, and the man added, "You are."

Chapter V: Pain