Fic: "Let Me Be Your Shelter" 1/2
Title: Let Me Be Your Shelter
Rating: K+
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Word count: ~5700
Summary: Sam gets into trouble while waiting for his big brother outside a bar. Hurt!Sick!Sam and Protective!Bigbrother!Dean. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.
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Sam pulled the hood of his sweatshirt tighter around his head, and shuddered in the chilly autumn air. He peeked out from beneath his messy bangs and, through the drizzling rain, stared at the battered wooden door in front of him. The door was lit up by a blinking neon sign saying 'BAR' - although the 'R' in the sign had stopped being illuminated a long time ago. It was a shabby place to say the least and, under normal circumstances, Sam would have stayed as far away from that place as possible. However, Dean was in there somewhere, and that gave Sam all the reason in the world to be near the place.
Sam shouldn't have been standing in the rain, unprotected and waiting for Dean though. His big brother had specifically told Sam to wait in the Impala while he went inside the bar to talk to an associate of Dad's. Dean had been a bit vague about the details - having told Sam to get some rest instead of bothering with Dean's errand. What Sam did know was that Dad had called Dean earlier that day and told him to meet with this man to pick up something for the hunt he was working on. The brothers were supposed to drive straight to Sheridan, Wyoming after this to reunite with their dad - having only stayed behind in a motel room in a small town in Idaho because Sam was nursing a nasty cold. The youngest Winchester had picked it up during a ghost hunt where an angry spirit had dragged him through a muddy field. Dean had put rock salt through it and Dad had salted and burned its remains but, by then, Sam had already been covered head to toe in cold mud. The consequences had been inevitable, and Sam was soon laid up in bed.
John Winchester had not been a happy camper with the prospect of having to start the next hunt alone, but Dean had insisted that Sam's health came first (which Sam was immensely grateful for). Besides, their dad had agreed it was a better solution for his boys to be a bit delayed rather than risking that Sam's cold developed into pneumonia. Although Sam hated feeling like a disappointment in his father's eyes, he'd secretly enjoyed the past few days without their dad around - with him and Dean being able to just be brothers and not having to worry about the next hunt for once. They'd spent most of the days watching rented movies, with Sam wrapped in a blanket and nestled against Dean's side. All good things came to an end though, so when Dean's phone had gone off on the fifth day, in the middle of 'Pulp Fiction', Sam knew it was time to return to reality.
Sam suddenly sneezed and then groaned miserably. He swept a sleeve-covered hand underneath his running nose, shivered once more from the cold, and buried his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. Dean was gonna kill him if he got sicker because of this, but Sam just couldn't stay inside the car any longer. Not when Dean was supposed to simply walk into the bar, pick up the item and return to the car a few minutes later. That's what he'd said he would do, at least. However, Dean had been gone twenty-three minutes (Sam had counted) before Sam got so worried that he had to leave the car and go look for his brother.
Sam got up on his tiptoes and peeked through the grimy windows to try to seek out his big brother - yet, it was impossible to get a good enough look. The bar was dim and smoke-filled but, although Sam thought he saw a glimpse of a leatherjacket resembling Dean's for a second, he couldn't be certain it really was Dean he spotted.
Moving away from the window, Sam once again looked at the entrance of the bar. Worried about his big brother or not, Dean would not be happy if Sam went in there. Contemplating whether or not to do it anyway, Sam startled when the door was suddenly ripped open, and a group of men staggered out onto the street. Sam pressed himself back against the building, buried himself deeper into his hoodie and bent his head slightly until his floppy hair hid his face. He watched the men warily through his bangs as they noisily interacted with each other, being mindful of every detail as a hunter should be.
"Study your opponents. Any detail could be important - and possibly save your life later" Dad had said numerous times - the words now resonating in Sam's ears as he looked at the men in front of him.
There were five of them. Men. Somewhere in their late twenties - early thirties. And they were buzzed. Their staggering movements and noisy conversation gave it away - not to mention the beer bottles a couple of them were carrying. Two of the men waved their goodbyes and disappered down the street, while three of them stayed behind.
"Hey!" One of them, the tallest one in the bunch, said and waved the other two closer. "How much do you need?"
"Just a bag." A bulky, bald guy answered.
"Make it two." The third one, a chubby guy with tattoos, chipped in. "How much?"
"300." The tall one revealed. "It's good stuff."
The bald man reached into his back pocket and pulled out some cash. He gave the tall man the money, and Sam saw a couple of small bags with what looked like white powder exchange hands. Drugs. They were selling and buying drugs. Sam got an uneasy feeling in his stomach, knowing that he was witnessing something he should stay the hell away from. He suddenly wished he'd just stayed in the damn car, but he couldn't exactly run back to the car and lock himself inside it now. Not as long as the men were still there.
Sam closed his eyes for a second and willed himself to stay still and remain calm.
Try to stay invisible.
Don't draw attention to yourself.
If they don't know you're there, they'll leave you alone.
It all worked very well. None of the men seemed to have noticed him and, to Sam's big relief, they were soon moving away. However, the three men had barely taken more than a few steps away from the bar, before a sneeze snuck up on the thirteen-year-old and broke free before he had a chance to stop it. Almost immediately, the men turned around and looked straight at Sam.
"The hell?" One of them exclaimed as he caught sight of Sam.
"You spying on us, kid?" The bald man growled and Sam shook his head, pressing further back against the wall.
Sam desperately searched for a way to escape these men but found himself surrounded by them in a second.
"Huh?" The third man, the tattooed one, spit out and tore the hood away from Sam's head. "What did you say?"
"N-no." Sam stuttered out, wide eyes blinking up at the drunk man in front of him. "I-I didn't see anything."
"He's just a scrawny little boy." The tall man huffed. "He's not gonna tell anyone. Isn't that right, kid?"
The last part was more a threat than a question, and Sam swallowed hard before nodding his head.
"Is that so?" The tattoed man, who still had a tight grip of the hood of Sam's sweatshirt, asked and narrowed his eyes at Sam. "Maybe we should beat him a little around, make sure he stays silent."
The bald guy lit up a cigarette and blew smoke into Sam's face. Sam started coughing, eyes watering, and the bald man smiled grimly at him.
The youngest Winchester knew how to fight. What he hadn't learned from his dad, he'd been taught by Dean, and Sam often sparred with his big brother. That had come in handy when defending himself and others from bullies during the years, but this was a different matter. Sure, if push came to shove, Sam would be able to throw in a few good punches - but there were still three of them and one of him. And they were all older and a lot bigger as well.
"He looks thirsty." The tattooed guy said, lifted his bottle of beer over Sam's head and started pouring the liquid down Sam's hair and face.
The youngest Winchester sputtered and spit as some of the beer made it into his mouth, and he gagged against the foul taste. The three men laughed and two of them high-fived. Sam hoped they'd had enough of this game by now and would leave him alone, but his heart sank as a second beer made its appearance. This time they held his head back so that as much of the liquid as possible could make it into his mouth and nose. Sam coughed and sputtered, had a really hard time breathing, and he struggled against the hold the men had of him. Kicking his legs desperately, Sam managed to kick one of them on the shin, and swung a right hook that connected with someone's jaw. The men he'd hit cried out and Sam found himself momentarily released from their hold. He tried to make a run for it but someone got a hold of the back of his sweatshirt and pulled him back.
"You little shit!" The bald guy shouted, and Sam cried out in pain as the guy burned Sam's wrist with his cigarette.
The tallest one of the men tried to capture Sam against his chest, but Sam elbowed him in the ribs and punched the bald guy right on his nose, before attempting to make a run for it again. He'd only taken one step though before a well-placed kick knocked him off his feet and Sam face-planted - face smacking mercilessly against the hard ground. Pain shot through a couple of Sam's fingers from the way he'd twisted them during his descend, and his face throbbed from where it had collided with the ground. Someone grabbed a hold of him and roughly turned him onto his back, and Sam saw the tattooed guy looming above him with a raised beer bottle in his hand - ready to strike.
"Hey! You get away from him, you son of a bitch!" An angry voice suddenly roared.
Before the tattooed man could even as much as move a muscle, he was knocked to the ground by one piece of furious Dean Winchester. Sam heard the sound of punches being thrown and slowly sat up to see if Dean needed help - while at the same time trying to stop the flow of blood from his bleeding nose.
Dean didn't need help. Not at all. By the time Sam sat up, the tattooed guy was a bloody mess on the ground, the tall guy was sent flying into the side of the nearest car and, although the bald man tried to keep Dean in a chokehold, Sam watched as his big brother broke the hold, threw the bald guy up against the wall and started punching his face.
"Dean!" Sam called as he struggled to get back on his feet. "Stop!"
Dean, however, didn't seem to have heard Sam at all as he continued to punch the man - which scared the hell out of Sam. He had never seen his big brother this furious before.
"Dean, please!" Sam begged and grabbed his brother's arm before Dean could throw another punch. "Stop. Please stop. You're gonna kill him."
Dean turned his head and looked down at Sam. He was breathing hard and his face was still contorted in anger but, by the look of his little brother, his features softened and he slowly lowered the arm Sam was clinging to.
"Sammy." Dean panted out, immediately released the man he'd been beating the ever-living shit out of, and pulled Sam into his arms. "Jesus, kiddo. You alright?"
Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's midsection and tried to hold back tears. He felt far from okay but knew that everything would be alright now that Dean was there. His big brother didn't wait for Sam to answer his question though. He just wrapped Sam up in his arms and lifted him off his feet - completely ignoring the three men on the ground (who were more or less still breathing) and carried Sam to the car.
Carefully lowering Sam into the passenger seat of the Impala, Dean closed the door and quickly went around the car before sliding behind the wheel.
"Here." Dean said, gently pushed Sam's head back and placed a bandana against Sam's bloodied nose. "Keep pressure on that."
Sam carefully nodded his head and used his right hand to pinch his nose through the bandana - the fingers of his left hand still aching as they rested in his lap. Dean turned the keys in the ignition, bringing the car to life, and the brothers were soon back on the road. Luckily right before the cops showed up outside the bar they'd just left behind.
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Part 2
Rating: K+
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Word count: ~5700
Summary: Sam gets into trouble while waiting for his big brother outside a bar. Hurt!Sick!Sam and Protective!Bigbrother!Dean. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.
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Sam pulled the hood of his sweatshirt tighter around his head, and shuddered in the chilly autumn air. He peeked out from beneath his messy bangs and, through the drizzling rain, stared at the battered wooden door in front of him. The door was lit up by a blinking neon sign saying 'BAR' - although the 'R' in the sign had stopped being illuminated a long time ago. It was a shabby place to say the least and, under normal circumstances, Sam would have stayed as far away from that place as possible. However, Dean was in there somewhere, and that gave Sam all the reason in the world to be near the place.
Sam shouldn't have been standing in the rain, unprotected and waiting for Dean though. His big brother had specifically told Sam to wait in the Impala while he went inside the bar to talk to an associate of Dad's. Dean had been a bit vague about the details - having told Sam to get some rest instead of bothering with Dean's errand. What Sam did know was that Dad had called Dean earlier that day and told him to meet with this man to pick up something for the hunt he was working on. The brothers were supposed to drive straight to Sheridan, Wyoming after this to reunite with their dad - having only stayed behind in a motel room in a small town in Idaho because Sam was nursing a nasty cold. The youngest Winchester had picked it up during a ghost hunt where an angry spirit had dragged him through a muddy field. Dean had put rock salt through it and Dad had salted and burned its remains but, by then, Sam had already been covered head to toe in cold mud. The consequences had been inevitable, and Sam was soon laid up in bed.
John Winchester had not been a happy camper with the prospect of having to start the next hunt alone, but Dean had insisted that Sam's health came first (which Sam was immensely grateful for). Besides, their dad had agreed it was a better solution for his boys to be a bit delayed rather than risking that Sam's cold developed into pneumonia. Although Sam hated feeling like a disappointment in his father's eyes, he'd secretly enjoyed the past few days without their dad around - with him and Dean being able to just be brothers and not having to worry about the next hunt for once. They'd spent most of the days watching rented movies, with Sam wrapped in a blanket and nestled against Dean's side. All good things came to an end though, so when Dean's phone had gone off on the fifth day, in the middle of 'Pulp Fiction', Sam knew it was time to return to reality.
Sam suddenly sneezed and then groaned miserably. He swept a sleeve-covered hand underneath his running nose, shivered once more from the cold, and buried his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. Dean was gonna kill him if he got sicker because of this, but Sam just couldn't stay inside the car any longer. Not when Dean was supposed to simply walk into the bar, pick up the item and return to the car a few minutes later. That's what he'd said he would do, at least. However, Dean had been gone twenty-three minutes (Sam had counted) before Sam got so worried that he had to leave the car and go look for his brother.
Sam got up on his tiptoes and peeked through the grimy windows to try to seek out his big brother - yet, it was impossible to get a good enough look. The bar was dim and smoke-filled but, although Sam thought he saw a glimpse of a leatherjacket resembling Dean's for a second, he couldn't be certain it really was Dean he spotted.
Moving away from the window, Sam once again looked at the entrance of the bar. Worried about his big brother or not, Dean would not be happy if Sam went in there. Contemplating whether or not to do it anyway, Sam startled when the door was suddenly ripped open, and a group of men staggered out onto the street. Sam pressed himself back against the building, buried himself deeper into his hoodie and bent his head slightly until his floppy hair hid his face. He watched the men warily through his bangs as they noisily interacted with each other, being mindful of every detail as a hunter should be.
"Study your opponents. Any detail could be important - and possibly save your life later" Dad had said numerous times - the words now resonating in Sam's ears as he looked at the men in front of him.
There were five of them. Men. Somewhere in their late twenties - early thirties. And they were buzzed. Their staggering movements and noisy conversation gave it away - not to mention the beer bottles a couple of them were carrying. Two of the men waved their goodbyes and disappered down the street, while three of them stayed behind.
"Hey!" One of them, the tallest one in the bunch, said and waved the other two closer. "How much do you need?"
"Just a bag." A bulky, bald guy answered.
"Make it two." The third one, a chubby guy with tattoos, chipped in. "How much?"
"300." The tall one revealed. "It's good stuff."
The bald man reached into his back pocket and pulled out some cash. He gave the tall man the money, and Sam saw a couple of small bags with what looked like white powder exchange hands. Drugs. They were selling and buying drugs. Sam got an uneasy feeling in his stomach, knowing that he was witnessing something he should stay the hell away from. He suddenly wished he'd just stayed in the damn car, but he couldn't exactly run back to the car and lock himself inside it now. Not as long as the men were still there.
Sam closed his eyes for a second and willed himself to stay still and remain calm.
Try to stay invisible.
Don't draw attention to yourself.
If they don't know you're there, they'll leave you alone.
It all worked very well. None of the men seemed to have noticed him and, to Sam's big relief, they were soon moving away. However, the three men had barely taken more than a few steps away from the bar, before a sneeze snuck up on the thirteen-year-old and broke free before he had a chance to stop it. Almost immediately, the men turned around and looked straight at Sam.
"The hell?" One of them exclaimed as he caught sight of Sam.
"You spying on us, kid?" The bald man growled and Sam shook his head, pressing further back against the wall.
Sam desperately searched for a way to escape these men but found himself surrounded by them in a second.
"Huh?" The third man, the tattooed one, spit out and tore the hood away from Sam's head. "What did you say?"
"N-no." Sam stuttered out, wide eyes blinking up at the drunk man in front of him. "I-I didn't see anything."
"He's just a scrawny little boy." The tall man huffed. "He's not gonna tell anyone. Isn't that right, kid?"
The last part was more a threat than a question, and Sam swallowed hard before nodding his head.
"Is that so?" The tattoed man, who still had a tight grip of the hood of Sam's sweatshirt, asked and narrowed his eyes at Sam. "Maybe we should beat him a little around, make sure he stays silent."
The bald guy lit up a cigarette and blew smoke into Sam's face. Sam started coughing, eyes watering, and the bald man smiled grimly at him.
The youngest Winchester knew how to fight. What he hadn't learned from his dad, he'd been taught by Dean, and Sam often sparred with his big brother. That had come in handy when defending himself and others from bullies during the years, but this was a different matter. Sure, if push came to shove, Sam would be able to throw in a few good punches - but there were still three of them and one of him. And they were all older and a lot bigger as well.
"He looks thirsty." The tattooed guy said, lifted his bottle of beer over Sam's head and started pouring the liquid down Sam's hair and face.
The youngest Winchester sputtered and spit as some of the beer made it into his mouth, and he gagged against the foul taste. The three men laughed and two of them high-fived. Sam hoped they'd had enough of this game by now and would leave him alone, but his heart sank as a second beer made its appearance. This time they held his head back so that as much of the liquid as possible could make it into his mouth and nose. Sam coughed and sputtered, had a really hard time breathing, and he struggled against the hold the men had of him. Kicking his legs desperately, Sam managed to kick one of them on the shin, and swung a right hook that connected with someone's jaw. The men he'd hit cried out and Sam found himself momentarily released from their hold. He tried to make a run for it but someone got a hold of the back of his sweatshirt and pulled him back.
"You little shit!" The bald guy shouted, and Sam cried out in pain as the guy burned Sam's wrist with his cigarette.
The tallest one of the men tried to capture Sam against his chest, but Sam elbowed him in the ribs and punched the bald guy right on his nose, before attempting to make a run for it again. He'd only taken one step though before a well-placed kick knocked him off his feet and Sam face-planted - face smacking mercilessly against the hard ground. Pain shot through a couple of Sam's fingers from the way he'd twisted them during his descend, and his face throbbed from where it had collided with the ground. Someone grabbed a hold of him and roughly turned him onto his back, and Sam saw the tattooed guy looming above him with a raised beer bottle in his hand - ready to strike.
"Hey! You get away from him, you son of a bitch!" An angry voice suddenly roared.
Before the tattooed man could even as much as move a muscle, he was knocked to the ground by one piece of furious Dean Winchester. Sam heard the sound of punches being thrown and slowly sat up to see if Dean needed help - while at the same time trying to stop the flow of blood from his bleeding nose.
Dean didn't need help. Not at all. By the time Sam sat up, the tattooed guy was a bloody mess on the ground, the tall guy was sent flying into the side of the nearest car and, although the bald man tried to keep Dean in a chokehold, Sam watched as his big brother broke the hold, threw the bald guy up against the wall and started punching his face.
"Dean!" Sam called as he struggled to get back on his feet. "Stop!"
Dean, however, didn't seem to have heard Sam at all as he continued to punch the man - which scared the hell out of Sam. He had never seen his big brother this furious before.
"Dean, please!" Sam begged and grabbed his brother's arm before Dean could throw another punch. "Stop. Please stop. You're gonna kill him."
Dean turned his head and looked down at Sam. He was breathing hard and his face was still contorted in anger but, by the look of his little brother, his features softened and he slowly lowered the arm Sam was clinging to.
"Sammy." Dean panted out, immediately released the man he'd been beating the ever-living shit out of, and pulled Sam into his arms. "Jesus, kiddo. You alright?"
Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's midsection and tried to hold back tears. He felt far from okay but knew that everything would be alright now that Dean was there. His big brother didn't wait for Sam to answer his question though. He just wrapped Sam up in his arms and lifted him off his feet - completely ignoring the three men on the ground (who were more or less still breathing) and carried Sam to the car.
Carefully lowering Sam into the passenger seat of the Impala, Dean closed the door and quickly went around the car before sliding behind the wheel.
"Here." Dean said, gently pushed Sam's head back and placed a bandana against Sam's bloodied nose. "Keep pressure on that."
Sam carefully nodded his head and used his right hand to pinch his nose through the bandana - the fingers of his left hand still aching as they rested in his lap. Dean turned the keys in the ignition, bringing the car to life, and the brothers were soon back on the road. Luckily right before the cops showed up outside the bar they'd just left behind.
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Part 2