Down in the Underground Chapter 8
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CHAPTER 8
"You didn't salt and burn her?" Bobby yelled as they pounded up the stairs.
Dean growled. "Wasn't time! I didn't have the salt!" He'd left the can in the cabin when he'd gone after Sam and fully planned on going back to finish the job once Sam was well. So much for that plan. "Sammy!" He hit the top of the stairs, Bobby at his back and bolted down the hall to the bathroom door.
"Dean!" Sam's voice came, choked, through the door and Dean kicked it open, drawing his knife.
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Sam leaned heavily on the shower wall, weakness sapping all the strength from his limbs but he refused to end up sitting in the bottom of the tub for Dean to come find him. He was tired of being helpless. He reached down and turned off the water. It had only been a few minutes but it felt good all the same and he pulled the curtain wearily open, taking a few breaths before stepping out. "Dammit." His hand on the wall kept him upright as he swayed. He pulled his boxers and sweats off the toilet and sat heavily to put them on. He definitely didn't want any help getting dressed this time. He wished he hadn't forgotten socks, he thought, feet cold on the tile floor. He stood and took slow steps to the door, mindful of the dizziness still threatening and wanting to reach his bed all by himself for a change. As he twisted the knob, pulling the door open, the smell of Lilacs filled the air. Sam looked up from his feet and gasped.
"No." Sam's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Yes." Liz stood in the door, very much alive despite the wide red stain on the chest of her shirt and the dirt clinging to her body and hair. She thrust a hand out, slapping it to Sam's chest and he felt his legs go out from under him and fell backwards to the floor. "You should have finished the job, Sam." She stalked into the bathroom and pushed the door shut behind her. She knelt over him, watching him struggle to move and smiled; pleased. "I'm old Sam. Not so easy to kill me for good." Liz put her hand on his bare stomach and laughed softly as he threw his head back in agony, gasping.
Sam couldn't breathe. Her hand on his stomach sent waves of sharp pain through him, stabbing into his legs and arms and up into his head. "God!" He got between clenched teeth and fell boneless with relief when she took her hand away.
"I don't need knives to hurt you, Sam." Liz crawled over him, hovering above his chest with her face in front of his. "I was going to leave you alive and play with you for a few decades but now I think you'll just have to die." She leaned back, straddling his hips and pulled her hands down over his bare chest. "Be a shame not to enjoy you just a little first though, don't you think?"
"N…no." Sam gasped, fighting the paralysis. Dean's voice called his name and Liz's head whipped around to the door.
"Ah here he comes." Liz looked back to Sam with murder in her eyes. "I owe your lovely big brother something, Sam. Don't go anywhere. You'll want to see this." She stood and faced the door as footsteps pounded outside, slid to a halt. Dean called his name again.
"Dean!" Sam choked out around the tightness of his throat, trying to warn him.
The door burst suddenly inward. His brother stood in the door, fury on his face, knife in his hand. Before Dean could even move, Liz lunged forward with her hand outstretched. Sam watched in horror as her hand contacted Dean's stomach, blood welling around the knife points of her nails.
"Gah!" Dean cried out and hunched around the pain, his blade dropping to clatter on the bathroom floor as Liz's fingers twisted in his gut, digging in further and robbing him of speech. He wrapped his hands around her wrist trying to pull her hand away.
"Dean?" Bobby was at his back but unable to get in the room. Dean was blocking the door. "Move, son!"
Dean's knees gave out. He dropped to the floor with a thump still holding Liz's wrist as her blood covered fingers emerged from his stomach.
"No!" Sam shouted. The paralysis lifted as terror for his brother flooded through him. It gave him strength and he rolled to the side, his hand wrapping about the hilt of Dean's knife. He pulled himself up with the sink and turned, stabbing the blade into Liz's chest where Dean had in the Underground. At the same moment, a second blade slid into her back as Bobby loomed up behind her, rage in his green eyes. Liz screamed and gasped between them. Her hands reached out and wrapped around Sam's biceps, nails biting into the skin. Sam twisted the knife, grunting with the effort and smiled grimly down at her as the life left her eyes again.
"I've got her, son. Let go." Bobby told him and took Liz's weight from Sam. Bobby dragged her out into the hall. "Take care of Dean. I'll finish this. Now."
"Dean?" Sam fell to his knees and turned his brother over in his arms. "Dean talk to me."
"Can't." Dean hissed softly, his hands clutched at his stomach covered in too much blood, eyes squeezed shut. "Hurts."
Sam reached a long arm up and pulled the towel down to them. "Move your hands, Dean." He said and pushed at Dean's hands. "Dean I need to see." Sam pried Dean's hands up, shifting them aside and tugged his shirt away from his stomach and gasped. "Shit." It was bad. There were five small punctures in the smooth skin of Dean's stomach the size of Liz's fingers. Each one bled quickly as Sam hastily folded the towel and pressed it to his stomach. Dean gasped, curling in around the pain. "Sorry."
Dean couldn't speak. The pain was just too much. His hands went to Sam's, alternating between holding on to them and trying to push them away and make the pain stop. Sam spoke softly to him, Dean's head pillowed in his lap, trying to soothe him and kept his hands firmly in place; keeping pressure on the wounds. Dean didn't cry out, Sam could have handled that. No, his big brother whimpered, small short gasps of pain as he tried to roll to his side in Sam's arms and fold around their hands on his stomach. Sam's heart broke. Dean did not whimper. Ever.
"I've got you." Sam told him. "You're gonna be ok. Just hold on." Fear was stealing his breath, made him gasp. The now familiar sensation of suffocation began to steal over him and he shook his head. "Dammit not now." Sam growled and fought to keep Dean on his back. He could feel the pounding of Dean's heart through his hands pressed to the towel, pressed to his stomach. A small pool of blood had collected on the tiles beneath them as Dean panted and gasped, moaned and finally his whole body relaxed into Sam. "Dean?" His brothers' hands slid away from his to the floor and panic seized him. "Dean!" Sam dropped his head in front of Dean's face and heard the beautiful sound of harsh breaths dragging in and out. "Stay with me, Dean."
Sam heard the sound of running feet and Bobby skidded into the bathroom a moment later, first aid kit in hand as he dropped beside them. "Bobby? Where is she?" Sam needed to know.
"Lightin' up the night out back." Bobby replied with a grim, satisfied smile. "Now let's see what she did to our boy." Sam pulled his hands away as Bobby lifted the towel carefully. "Bitch." He muttered, regarding the wounds in Dean's stomach. Five perfect holes, all still oozing though not as badly as they had been to lose that much blood. His gut twisted looking at Dean's lax, pale face; lines of pain pinched around his eyes even in sleep. "Think you can help me get him to the bedroom? Get him up in the bed?" He regarded Sam critically as the boy nodded quickly. His face didn't look much better than his brothers but Bobby figured the boy would pass out before abandoning Dean. "Ok, let's get him up. I'll get his legs."
They carried Dean down the hall and into the bedroom, setting him gently on the bed beside Sam's. Bobby got his feet up and shot an arm out, stopping Sam's buckle to the floor. "Ok, Sam. Back to bed."
"No, he needs…I can help." Sam argued but found himself being pushed into his bed anyway.
"You need help boy now lay still and let me deal with this." Bobby turned back to the older brother and opened the first aid kit on the bed. "I'll stitch him up. Stop the bleeding. Bob can check him over when he gets here. Shaman sorta means emergency medic too on the Rez." He used holy water and antiseptic to clean the wounds and other than a few moans, Dean stayed blissfully out for it. He was stitching the third hole closed when Dean finally tossed his way back to consciousness. "Stay still. I'm not done." Bobby put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Where's the bitch?" Dean growled, ready to get up and fight her again even though his stomach felt like it was on fire.
"Dead and gone by now." Bobby assured him. "Now stay still dammit or I'll sew your belly button to your elbow."
"Sam?" Dean ignored him and twisted to see around him.
"Oh fer cryin' out loud." Bobby rolled his eyes to the ceiling for patience. "He's fine! He's right there. Sam say somethin' before he climbs over there."
"Dean. I'm here." Sam smiled when Bobby moved so his brother could see him. "I'm good. Stop being difficult…let Bobby fix you up."
Dean lay back, closing his eyes and twitched when he felt the suture needle bite into his skin. "Just two more. Almost done." Bobby clipped the thread and stitched the fourth and fifth as fast as he dared, trying to shorten the agony he was causing the boy. He settled a gauze pad in place over Dean's stomach and taped it down, pressing firmly once and Dean's hands quickly replaced his.
Dean held his hands over the fire in his belly and rolled to his side facing Sam. He sighed softly, just for a moment, savoring the comforting hand that rubbed along his back a few times before Bobby stepped away, tidying up the kit. "You boys stay." Bobby fixed them both with a stern look. "I'll be back. Just wanna check on the bonfire."
"You alright?" Sam asked his brother. Dean managed to give him a disgusted look.
"I'm peachy." Dean replied in a rough voice, soft as he tried not to move his stomach muscles. He held both hands protectively over the thick bandage taking shallow breaths. Each one sent a stab of pain through him. He rolled to his back, trying to alleviate it and groaned. "Damn I hate that bitch." He gasped. He heard the springs on Sam's bed move and then felt him sit beside him. "Hey, supposed to stay in your bed." He whispered and got a snort in reply.
"You know how sad it is…that I'm better off…than you are?" Sam said on short breaths, fighting the lack of air but unable to watch his brother suffering. "Roll over." He pushed gently at Dean's hip until he did with a groan. Sam put a hand on Dean's back and started rubbing in slow circles.
"Dude." Dean growled at him. "I'm not nine. Knock it off."
"Shut up. Not thinking…about your gut right now…are you?" Sam smirked when Dean only growled again in response and kept up the circles. When Dean had been nine, he'd taken on three bullies, eighth graders who'd had it in for him at barely six. Dean had given better than he'd gotten but had ended up with a boot in his stomach. The bruise had been hideous and the only way he'd gotten to sleep for days had been if his baby brother rubbed his back and took his mind off it.
In spite of himself, Dean began to drift to sleep to the slow, gentle pressure of his brothers' hand on his back and he was so never telling anyone about this little interlude. Sam put all his attention into his hand, using it as a focus against the tightness in his chest and the scratching sounds behind him that he knew were not really there. He was not going to take another trip on the hallucination train if he could help it. He was so intent on not falling apart again he didn't hear Bobby come in until he felt the hand on his shoulder.
Sam jerked hard, gasping and would have toppled from the bed if not for Bobby's steadying hand. "Hey, kid. It's just me. Let's get you back to your own bed." Bobby helped him up. He was pretty sure he still had the goofy smile on his face that had snuck out when he'd walked in and seen his boys. He was glad Sam seemed too out of it to notice. He settled the younger Winchester back in his own bed. "Get some sleep, boy." Like Dean, Sam rolled to his side so he could see his brother and let his eyes drift closed as Bobby covered him.
Bobby pulled a chair over and sat, propping his feet up on Sam's bed with a watchful eye on both. "Idjits." He said fondly and checked his watch. Eleven hours yet to wait.
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"Breathe, Sam. Dammit." Bobby pulled him up, holding his shoulders and gave him a shake. He was struggling for every short breath. "It's not real." Sam nodded, he understood but it didn't help. He was dying. There was no getting around it. His eyes rolled in his head. He saw Bobby's mouth moving but couldn't hear the words over the rushing in his head.
"Bobby?" Dean groaned awake and rolled stiffly to his other side. "Shit." He cursed seeing Sam in the grip of another episode. He let his legs drop off the side of the bed and pushed up with one arm, using the other to brace against his stomach as he sat up.
"Dammit boy, stay down." Bobby said, exasperated but Dean didn't listen and he shook his head. It had only been eight hours since Liz had shown up for her encore. Nowhere near long enough for Dean to be moving again.
"I'm ok." Dean said stiffly and stood. He cradled both hands over his stomach, rubbing lightly to try and relieve some of the pain as he took the three steps to Sam's bed. He bumped Bobby's arm and sat next to his brother. He cupped one hand around Sam's face, noting the bluing lips and panicked look in his hazel eyes. "Sammy, look at me."
Sam's world was narrowing down to nothing when Dean's face swam into view. He was confused. It couldn't be Dean. Dean was lying on the other bed, near death because of him. He'd let himself be captured by Liz. Dean had been so concerned for him he hadn't finished the job properly and that was on him too. He'd been too weak to stop her gutting his brother. He deserved to die. Dean wasn't really there.
"Yes I am, Sammy. I'm right here." Dean ignored the gnawing pain in his gut to use both hands as Sam muttered, seemingly unaware he was speaking aloud between weaker and weaker gasps for air. "Come on, dammit. Breathe!" Sam shook his head.
"Dying." Sam whispered. His head would have dropped if not for Dean's hands. He saw the panic rise up in his brothers eyes, saw Bobby looming over his shoulder equally afraid and couldn't understand why. He didn't deserve to live. The voices were back, echoing in his ears. The loudest voice speaking to him, telling him he was right, it was time to let go, time to stop hurting the people he loved. His eyes closed.
"No! Bobby?" Dean was frantic. Sam shuddered one last breath in and out and then went still.
"Lay him down!" Bobby pushed Dean gently away, mindful of his wounds. "Gotta do mouth to mouth or he's done. We gotta get him awake!"
Dean hunched away from the bed, arms crossed over his stomach and watched as Bobby tilted Sam's head back and started breathing for him. "Dammit, Sammy don't you do this." Dean whispered. He went to his knees beside the bed; the pain lancing through his stomach and terror that he was watching his brother slip away stealing his strength. Not like this, he thought. He was supposed to save him. That was his job and he was failing. He reached out and took Sam's hand in his, squeezing hard. "Come back, Sam."
"Bobby?" A man's voice called from downstairs. Bobby's head jerked up.
"Bob! Upstairs! Hurry!" Bobby spared a glance for Dean's terrified face and bent to force another breath into Sam. Steps pounded up the stairs and a moment later a tall man with long grey hair slid into the door way. He took in the situation quickly and strode to the bed, ignoring the look of warning in the green eyes of the man kneeling on the floor.
"Not good. Bobby move." Bob the Shaman set a large, leather bag on the bed and wrenched it open as Bobby moved quickly aside and dropped a supportive hand to Dean's shoulder. "How long?"
"A minute, maybe two." Bobby told him.
"Still time then." Bob pulled a small vial from his bag and uncorked it. He pinched Sam's jaw open and upended the contents into his mouth. It was smoky and thick and Dean squeezed Sam's hand harder, hoping whatever it was it would work. Bob closed Sam's mouth and laid a darkly tanned hand on his chest over his heart. He began chanting something in Navajo. It was rhythmic and hypnotic and Dean felt Bobby's hand squeezing his shoulder in time.
Dean jerked upright, hissing against the pain it caused. He'd felt Sam's hand twitch in his own. "Sammy?" Bob kept chanting and Sam's hand contracted again. "That's it, Sam. Come back!" He watched Sam's face for any sign. "What's taking so long?"
"Shush, boy." Bobby told him, as nervous as he was. He jerked, felt Dean do the same when Sam's body arched over the bed and he sucked in a great, wheezing lungful of air. Bob kept his hand in place over Sam's heart and kept up his litany of strange words until Sam collapsed back to the bed. Sam's hand closed convulsively around Dean's.
"Sam?" Dean asked and was rewarded when Sam's head rolled toward him. He was heaving for much needed air, eyes watering and wide. "He gonna be alright now?" Dean asked the Shaman.
"Soon. Do not leave him alone." Bob rose from the bed and picked up his bag. "There is no time to waste. Introductions later. I need the idol."
"You're early." Bobby stepped away from Dean and clapped the man on the shoulder. "Don't wanna know how bad you broke the speed limit. Come on. Dean?"
"I've got him." Dean rose painfully and sat beside Sam.
Bobby led his friend back downstairs and too a box on his desk. He opened it, revealing the idol within packed in salt. "Bob, how bad is this gonna be on the kid?"
Bob looked sadly at him. "He will feel it. It wont cause any permanent damage however." He picked the idol up out of the box. "We need a firepit."
"Out back. Just happen to have one I made up last night." Bobby said with a smile. "Burned a witch on it."
Bob raised his silvered brows in surprise and nodded. "That will work. We must be fast. The potion I gave the boy won't last long."
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"How you feeling?" Dean asked. His brother had curled up so far his forehead was resting against Dean's knee.
"About how you look." Sam said weakly and managed a small chuckle.
"Dude if I could move right now I'd hurt you." Dean told him with a grin and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "You breathing ok now?"
"Yeah." Sam nodded against his leg.
"Good, so you can tell me what the hell that crap was you were sayin'?" Dean gave his shoulder a shove. "None of this was your fault, kid."
Sam frowned against the denim clad leg, trying to remember what he'd been thinking before everything had gone black. "I said that?"
"Yeah you idiot." Dean rolled his eyes. "You were dead wrong. This wasn't your fault. She was a witch and she had you by the short and curlies."
"Eww." Sam laughed. "I know that. I do. I don't wanna die Dean." He said softly and felt Dean squeeze his shoulder.
"Course you don't. You're a Winchester. We don't give up." Dean said firmly, even as the knowledge their father had nagged at him. He hunched over his stomach again, clamping a hand against the bandage. "Dammit."
"You ok?" Sam raised his head, concerned.
"Yeah, I'm good." Dean said a little breathlessly. "Bitch had some serious nails."
Bobby entered the room at a run. "Boys, Bob's about to burn the idol and…" He rubbed a worried hand over his face as they looked up at him. "Sam you're gonna feel it."
"Say what now?" Dean asked, anger curling up to his face. "What exactly is he gonna feel?"
"He's gonna feel it burn." Bobby said and shrugged in apology. "He's linked to it. No way around it. It's not gonna leave any damage but it's gonna hurt like hell." He stepped to the end of the bed, ready to hold the boy down when it started. "You'll be free when it's over, son."
"When?" Sam asked, trying and failing to ignore the curl of fear in his stomach.
"Any minute now." Bobby ducked his head, avoiding the accusing look in Dean's eyes.
"There's gotta be another way, Bobby." Dean said angrily.
"There isn't, Dean." Bobby saw Sam twitch. "Don't you think I asked?" Sam gasped.
"Sammy?" Dean turned back to him. "Sammy talk to me."
"Oh god it's starting." Sam said softly and wrapped frantic hands around Dean's arm on his shoulder as heat began to lick along his body. "Dean?"
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