THE HUDDLE - Chapter 5/6
Title: THE HUDDLE
Author: Leigh Ann Wallace
Rating: PG-13
Genre/pairing: Gen
Characters: Sam & Dean Winchester, John Winchester
Word count: 1948
Summary: I loathe summaries. Suffice it to say that Sam gets on the wrong side of the local football hero and things go bad.
Spoilers: (if applicable) No spoilers. Pre-series
Warnings: (if applicable) Some Language and violence
Disclaimer: Pretty clear I don't own anything to do with Supernatural. Written out of love and passionate obsession.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"What are you doing with that?" Dean said quietly, not moving.
Sam looked down at the gun, then back up at his brother. "I don't -" He hesitated, the fury in his eyes somewhat dampened by puzzlement. "Mind your own business."
"You are my business, Sammy. Right now, you're the only business I've got." Looking closely, Dean saw the rapid rise and fall of Sam's chest, the spots of color high up on his cheekbones and the pallor underneath that color.
Stepping forward, moving slowly, Dean put his hand on the gun. Sam resisted at first, then, reluctantly, let his brother take it.
Dean stuck the .45 into his belt.
"What were you gonna do? Walk into the school and blow the bastards away?" He put a hand on Sam's forehead. Sam jerked away.
"Knock it off!" he ordered sharply. "I want to check your temperature. I don't want to have to take your dumb ass back to the hospital."
Too accustomed to obeying his brother's orders in matters of his health, Sam subsided and let Dean check him out.
"Not too bad," Dean decided, finally. "Did you take your meds?"
Sam looked at the floor and Dean frowned. "Do you want to go back? Where in hell are they?"
Head still down, Sam motioned to the bureau. Dean saw the bag, still unopened, on top of it. He opened the bag, pulled out the pills and, after getting a glass of water from the bathroom, watched Sam down them.
"Drink all of it," he instructed. "Gotta keep you hydrated."
Sam obeyed. He looked, Dean decided, a little less likely to go out and shoot up the town now. He motioned to the bed and Sam shook his head fretfully.
"I don't want to sleep. I'm tired of sleeping." He pushed past Dean and went to the living room, his brother behind him.
Once there, he swung around, listing to the side a bit, and glared at Dean.
"Those bastards aren't going to get away with this!"
"Damned straight they're not," Dean gave Sam a hard smile. "When Dad gets back -"
"No!" Sam half-shouted. "Not Dad! Not you! This is mine!" He staggered a little bit and Dean caught him, lowered him to the worn couch, where he lay panting and glaring up at him.
"Sam, look at you. You're in no shape to take on one of those assholes, much less the whole crowd."
"In a few weeks -"
"I don't care how fast you heal, you take on eight guys, you're just going to end up back in the hospital," Dean said flatly.
"I don't want all eight." Sam laid his head against the back of the couch. "I just want one." He sighed, his meager supply of strength exhausted. "Shit."
Dean sat down next to him, gently smoothing sweat-damp hair away from his brother's face.
Sam looked at him wearily. "Sorry about the whole dick thing, Dean."
Dean smiled. "It's okay." He glanced down at the .45, still tucked into his belt. "What was up with the gun?"
Sam shook his head wearily. Dean nudged him. Nudged him again.
"OKay, fine. I was dreaming," he said reluctantly. "About what happened." Rage flickered in his eyes. "They had me down on the damned ground and they were all over me, kicking and punching. It was pretty bad."
"So, what, you were going to go and blow them all away?" Dean asked lightly, trying to hide his own fury.
"It wasn't like that - I don't really remember," Sam said, frowning. "I woke up when you came into the room. I guess I was sleepwalking."
"You haven't done that in years!" Dean said, surprised. "Jeez, you just woke up with the .45 in your hand?"
Sam nodded.
"Hmm." Dean thought about it and then shrugged it away. "Well, can't say I blame you. I'd like to ventilate 'em, too." He poked Sam in the shoulder teasingly. "But you know what Dad says."
"'No killing humans,'" Sam quoted, smiling. It was a small smile, but the first one Dean had seen in days. "I'm pretty sure that's racial discrimination."
"I agree. We should try to talk Dad into adding assholes to the approved hit list."
That got a by God laugh out of Sam, which was great, even though it was accompanied by a wince as he grabbed his stomach.
"Shit, don't make me laugh!" he wheezed.
"No promises, dude," Dean grinned. "Listen, are you hungry?"
Sam started to shake his head, then paused, surprised. "You know, I think I am."
"Pizza? Or KFC?"
Sam shook his head. "No, I don't think I can handle that yet."
"We got soup," Dean suggested.
"That sounds good."
"What kind?"
Sam shrugged. "Whatever."
"I'll go heat some up for you. Then I'm going to head out, pick up something for me." Dean looked at him. "You going to be okay for a few minutes? I won't be long."
Sam gave him an impatient look. "Dean, come on. What am I, five?" Before Dean could take a shot, Sam went on, "How about we watch a movie when you get back? My choice," he added.
Dean shook his head emphatically. "No way, man. I am not in the mood for some chick flick."
Sam scoffed. "I was thinking "Terminator."
"Now there's the Sammy I know and love." Dean gave Sam's head a violent noogie. "Be back in a minute with your soup."
"Dean?"
"Yeah, bro?"
"I meant what I said," Sam said, eyes grave. "About you and Dad."
"Hey, I get it," Dean raised his hands in surrender. "You're driving. But I got your back."
Sam nodded in satisfaction.
On the way to the kitchen, Dean stowed Sam's .45 in the closet with the rest of the hardware, and locked the door. No sense in taking chances.
"Don't get your panties in a twist, Harris," Randy said contemptuously. "Nothing's going to happen."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because the Chief already spoke with my dad. They're taking care of it."
"He was hurt pretty bad," Alex protested, unconvinced.
"Asshole's already out of the hospital," Randy scoffed. "Couldn't have been that bad."
Alex was silent for a minute, then, "The coach is pissed. I've never seen him like that before."
"I have." Randy laughed dismissively. "He'll get over it. Listen, practice is on for tomorrow, 4 o'clock."
Alex didn't answer and Randy's anger came blasting through the phone. "You better freaking be there, Harris!"
Alex mumbled a reluctant affirmative and Randy clicked off.
Tossing his cell onto the bed, Alex pulled his shirt up, twisting to see the array of bruises spread across his torso. They'd started to fade at the edges, but the centers were still an impressive combination of blue and black. Damn, that Cade could hit!
"You deserve worse," Alice said from the door of his bedroom.
Jerking his shirt down, Alex spun around, eyes flashing behind his twin sister to make sure his parents hadn't seen his bruises. "Get out of here, Allie."
Ignoring that, she came into the room and shut the door behind her.
"Sam is my friend, Alex," she said reproachfully. "Why did you do it?"
"He's fine, Allie. Don't make a big deal out of it."
"He's my friend," she repeated. "He tutored me last semester. He's the only reason I passed algebra. You knew that. So why? Just to stay in good with that creep Randy Travens?"
He flushed angrily and turned away. "Leave me alone."
"Alex, Sam almost died."
He snorted. "Oh, come on. Randy says he's out of the hospital already." He parroted Travens' words. "How bad could it have been?"
"Alex." She touched his arm, looked into his eyes. "I found him that night."
Her twin froze.
"I saw what you guys did to him. I don't think I'll ever forget what he looked like. How much pain he was in." She drew a deep, shaky breath . "He had to have surgery, Alex. Christa Creedy told me he had to have part of his spleen removed."
Alex drew in a sharp breath.
"She said -" Allie hesitated, hating to say this, hating that it might be true. "She said that someone had him down on the ground and - tried to kick him to death."
At that, he looked into her eyes involuntarily, flinched at what he saw there.
"How - how did you find him?"
"I heard you talking to Randy on the phone that night. I didn't know exactly what had happened, but I heard enough to scare me. I went to the school and found him in the field."
"You called the police?"
"911."
"What, um, what did you tell them?"
"I told them I was out walking and found him." She watched as he visibly relaxed. "I lied, Alex. For you."
"Thank you," he said awkwardly.
"Don't thank me yet, Alex. I haven't decided yet what I'm going to do."
Alarmed, he said, "Allie -"
"He almost died," she said again, near to tears. "Don't you get that? Don't you care?"
"I'm your brother," Alex said desperately." That should count for something."
"It does. It counts a lot." Alice's eyes were dark with pain. "I love you. Damn it, you're part of me."
Hand raised, he took a step toward her. She shook her head, tears standing in her eyes.
"No. You beat a helpless boy almost to death. And all you care about is if you get caught! I am so mad at you!"
Alex started to protest, then shrugged and turned away from her. "What do you know."
A tear slid down Alice's cheek. She wiped it away. "I know that ever since you joined that stupid team, you've turned into a bully and a jerk," she said harshly. "And I know that you know that what you did was wrong, or you wouldn't be trying to hide it from Mom and Dad! I'm ashamed of you. I'm ashamed to be your sister."
Choking back a sob, she wheeled and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Soup eaten, Sam half-dozed on the couch, waiting for his brother to return. 'Terminator' was queued - he just hoped Dean would get back before he fell completely asleep. He wanted to spend time with his brother. The last week had been so bad, so hard - he needed time to relax, to try to get back to normal. He wanted to get rid of some of the anger that still crowded him.
The phone rang and he pulled himself around, awkwardly hooking the receiver off the table next to the couch. "Hullo?"
"Hey, asshole."
Sam stiffened, recognizing Travens' mocking voice.
"What's the matter, Cade? Can't talk? Hey, I hear they had to open you up the other night. Took your spleen out, right? Well, spleen's not all that important. You can do without."
Hand tightening convulsively on the receiver, Sam remained silent.
"I bet you wish you'd taken me up on my offer, huh, Cade?" Travens continued. "Come on, now, don't be shy. Time we got things straightened out."
"Randy," Sam said quietly.
"You ready to take care of my homework now, Cade?" Randy laughed. "I don't think I'll need to pay you now, though - "
"Randy." A beat. "I'll be coming for you."
Dead silence on the other end of the line, and then, "Come ahead, asshole."
Dial tone.
Sam sat up. After a long, tense minute, he jumped to his feet and threw the phone across the room; it smashed against the wall. Clutching his abdomen, he glared across at the wreckage.
"You son-of-a-bitch! I'm coming for you."