Where it Hurts, Supernatural, Wincest, Part One
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Where It Hurts, Part One (not sure of how many)
Characters/Pairing: Sam, John, Dean, implied Sam/Dean, implied Sam/Other
Rating: NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 042 Sink
Word Count: 3112
Summary: Six months have passed since Sam's ordeal as the prisoner of Kendall Garrett. While John Winchester hunts for the bastard, Dean tries to hold Sam together while Sam slowly sinks under the pressure
Warnings: Very, very Dark Fic. This is a follow on to "The Good Son". The overall story will involve torture and rape. This is Part One. I'm thinking this will be in 5 or 6 parts.
"The Good Son" can be found:
First Part Here,
Second Part Here
Third Part Here
Fourth Part Here
Last Part Here
This is my ninth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
“Dean?” Sam’s voice was small, fragile in the dark.
Not now, Sammy. Dean thought as he rounded the corner where he’d last seen his brother. The hunt was already not going well, and for Sam to have a relapse now…
“Dean?” A little more urgent, more pained. Dean cursed under his breath and stepped into the room, immediately understanding his brother’s distress. The room was pitch black, no windows letting in ambient lighting from the streets, no sounds. Dean swallowed and stepped into the room.
“I’m here, Sammy,” he said softly, listening now for Sam’s position. Carefully, he turned on his light and swept it across the floor in front of him. “We need to get out of here, okay? I need you to come to me.”
“Can’t.” Dean’s light finally found him, huddled on the floor near the wall. Dean made his way over to him and squatted in front of him, one hand on his knee.
“Sammy, it’s okay. It’s all okay. I’m right here.”
Sam’s hand came up, shaking, and landing on Dean’s. It was a start. The nightmares were going to be bad tonight, Dean knew from experience. Six months after the hospital had finally released Sam, he was much better, but he was skittish and gun shy, which was something Dean wasn’t accustomed to.
Physically he wasn’t nearly a hundred percent, and Dean probably shouldn’t have brought him on this hunt, but Sam had insisted. “Come on Sam, let’s call it a night.”
Dean brought the light up to his brother’s face, and Sam instantly looked away. “Okay.”
With a sigh, Dean switched his grip from Sam’s knee to his hand and stood, drawing Sam with him. “This ghost isn’t showing its face tonight anyway.”
Sam was quiet in the car, refusing to even look at Dean. It was the silence maybe that frustrated Dean the most. It was brooding and dark and it meant Sam was somewhere in his head that Dean knew wasn’t good for him. Worse, Dean didn’t know what to say or do to draw him out.
“You want to get some pizza?” He asked as they neared the motel they were staying at. “I could swing by-“
“Not hungry.” Sam said, glancing at Dean briefly before turning to look out the window again.
“You have to-“ Dean stopped himself as he saw Sam stiffen. Demands and commands had never been the best approach with his little brother, and since Garrett they were sure to bring one of two responses. “I’m sorry. I worry. You haven’t eaten all day.”
“Not hungry.” Sam said again. Dean nodded and drove the rest of the way in silence. Sam was slow getting out of the car and when Dean reached out to him at the door to their room, he pulled away.
“Will you take your pills at least?”
Sam looked like he wanted to argue but the look on Dean’s face stopped him and he nodded. “Good. I’ll get you a glass-“
“I’m not a child or an invalid, Dean. I can do it myself.” Sam said, his voice quiet, but hard. Dean closed his eyes and sighed.
When it was like this there wasn’t much Dean could do or say, just wait for the nightmares, the tears and the ultimate apology he insisted Sam need never offer. Dean kicked off his boots and jeans and stretched out on his bed, waiting for Sam to come back from the bathroom to turn off the lights. Sam hesitated between the beds, as if trying to decide which one to chose, then chose the empty one. Dean sighed again and turned off the light, knowing sleep wasn’t going to come easily.
Sam lay in the dark listening to his brother breathing. The light from the outside lamp lined the window and Sam had left the bathroom light on, though he’d closed the door. He felt weak and silly. His stomach churned as he remembered the dark that had swallowed him, the thoughts in his head, the voice that had slithered out of its hiding place to drop him to the floor.
He was less than worthless to his brother like this, and it frustrated him. He’d suggested that Dean move on without him a few weeks before, and Dean’s response had been intense. Sam sighed and rolled to his side, his back to Dean. His hand rested on his thigh, just above the mark that his captor had left on him. ”To remember me by” he had said. As if Sam would forget anytime soon.
He sighed again and tried to close his eyes. In the dark he could sometimes feel the hand, sliding over his skin, claiming him. No matter how he tried to go back to what passed for normal, everything had changed. Even his relationship with Dean was different. Not that that had ever really been normal.
Sam knew he was frustrating Dean, and the concern in his brother’s eyes whenever Sam sank into the darkness was touching, but it didn’t help. Dean wanted to be out hunting Garrett, but didn’t want to expose Sam to the danger that came with that. So they wandered, hunting minor hauntings and Sam sank slowly away from Dean and into the dark place that Garrett had created.
He sighed again and forced his eyes closed. He could feel the pills working their magic, pulling him toward sleep. Marshalling his breathing, Sam let go and surrendered to sleep.
“Welcome home, Sam. I’ve waited for you.”
Rumbling laughter shook him. The voice filled his ears, his head. Hands in the dark held him, touching his naked body.
“You didn’t think I would let you go that easily, did you?”
Hands gripped his chin, tilting his head to the side as if examining him. “Does your brother know what I did to you? Does he know that I know what a dirty boy you are?”
The hands traveled over his body now, knowingly cataloguing each mark they had made, each scar, until they came to the brand on his inner thigh. “Does he know that you belong to me, Sam?” Fingers traced the letters of the mark, gentle, almost loving. “Mine. Always.”
Dean woke to the distressed whimpering that told him this was one of the nightmares that centered around the mental torment Garrett had forced on Sam, not the physical. When it was physical the whimpers were screams and the uneasy tossing was frantic thrashing. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, watching for a minute before he sighed and stood.
Sam was sweating, his face grimacing. Dean crawled onto the bed, laying himself out beside his brother, face to face. His hand started on Sam’s head. It was the one part of his body Garrett hadn’t abused, the one place Dean knew he could touch Sam and not have it feed the nightmare. His fingers stroked gently over Sam’s forehead, brushing the hair away and exposing the smooth skin. As he moved down to his cheek, Dean pressed his palm to it, his thumb moving to stroke over Sam’s lips. They were chapped and rough.
“Sammy.” He whispered it, almost not even making any sound. “I’m right here, Sammy.” Dean moved his face closer, letting his breath touch Sam’s face. “Right here. Come back to me.”
Sam whimpered and shifted closer to Dean, his hands moving to capture Dean’s hand. “Dean,” he breathed and Dean sighed.
“Yes, Sammy. Right here.”
Sam’s eyes didn’t open, but Dean got the impression he had shifted out of the nightmare. Sam’s hand gripped his. “Stay.”
“Not going anywhere, Sammy.” Dean pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead. Sam turned, pulling Dean’s arm over him and settling in to a deeper sleep with his back pressed to Dean’s chest. Dean closed his eyes and settled in for a long night.
Sam was gone from the bed when Dean woke. The sound of the shower told him where his brother had gone and Dean stretched. A glance at his watch told him that it was nearly 9:30. His cell phone buzzed, rattling on the nightstand before he reached for it. The caller ID indicated his father’s number. Dean flipped his phone open. “Dad?”
“Yeah. How’s Sam?”
Dean made a face. “The same. Nightmares. He’s not eating. We had a relapse last night on a hunt.”
“I told you he isn’t ready.”
“You know Sam. He insisted.”
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere in New Mexico.”
“Good. Don’t wander too far. I’ve got a lead.”
Dean sat up. “Garrett?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Texas. I’ll know more in a few days. I want you close if I catch up to him.”
“Just tell me where.” Dean could almost picture his father nodding on the other end. “I mean it Dad. I want a piece of this bastard.”
“I know.”
There was silence then before Dean heard his father draw a deep breath. “You look after him.”
Dean nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
As Dean hung up the phone, Sam emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, his wet hair a mess. “Who was that?”
“Dad.”
“Where is he?”
“Texas.” Sam looked at him for a moment, as if he was going to ask what their father was doing in Texas then he shook his head. He turned his back to Dean to rummage through his bag. Dean’s eyes moved over the skin Sam very seldom left bare anymore, picking out the scars that had come from before Garrett, and each of them left by Garrett’s hand. “Want to get some breakfast?”
Sam nodded and pulled a t-shirt on over his head. “I want to go to the hall of public records to get some more information on that house.” His voice was slightly muffled as he pulled the shirt down.
“Good idea.” Dean agreed. He was willing to follow Sam’s lead and ignore the set back the night before, especially knowing he could be getting his hands on Garrett soon. Maybe once they’d caught up with the bastard, Sam could start to put this behind him. Maybe he could find his way up out of the darkness then. Dean got up to pull on his jeans so they could head to the diner for breakfast, hoping this was a meal Sam would actually eat, and not spend an hour pushing the food around his plate while he brooded.
The hall of records yielded a possible location of the body of the man whose ghost was haunting the old boarding house, where local legend said that the woman who ran the place had poisoned those who came to stay. Dean tried to convince Sam to stay behind at the hotel, but his brother simply shook his head and loaded his shotgun with rock salt. As they approached the house, Sam put his hand on his brother’s knee.
“I need to say something.”
“Don’t apologize.” Dean said with a note of warning in his voice.
“No, not that.” He bowed his head, his long bangs falling into his eyes. Dean resisted the urge to brush them aside. “Not…like that anyway. I-I need you to know…” He paused and looked out the window before turning to Dean. His eyes were dark and filled with an all too familiar pain. “Last night, in the house…it was…when I walked into the room and the door shut…I…”
Sam closed his eyes. Dean didn’t move despite wanting to just pull his brother to him and hold him. “Sammy, you don’t have to-“
“Yes, Dean, I do. If I don’t…it’s just going to keep swallowing me and maybe the next time I won’t find my way back out.”
Dean’s breath caught in his throat. The idea that Sammy might sink so far away that he couldn’t come back was like a blow to his stomach. His hand fell on top of Sam’s and he waited for him to continue.
“It was like a vision, that…intense. Only…not about someone else. It was as if I was there all over again. I could feel…” Sam swallowed and looked away.
They’d never really talked about what had happened. Dean knew in the most clinical way what the fucking bastard had done, but that didn’t begin to touch the reality of it. Sam was so broken when he’d found him and all he could do was hold the pieces together. The fear and the rage had taken up all the space he had, and he couldn’t think beyond them to the details. The details hadn’t mattered while Sam was lying in his lap, quivering in fear and relief and pain, chanting his name as if it was all that held him to reality.
Sam’s hand turned, his fingers threading through Dean’s. “He told me you left me.” Sam finally said, his face turning back toward Dean’s. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes. “He told me that you and Dad had left town, that you were happy I was gone.”
“Sam-“
“No, let me finish.” His voice was firm and Dean had to bite his lip to keep from stopping him. “I-I didn’t believe him, Dean. A part of me never believed him. A part of me knew you’d find me.”
Dean waited in the silence for what Sam hadn’t said. It took his brother a long time and when he spoke, his voice had lost its firmness. It quavered. “There was a part of me that did though. A part of me that gave up.”
Sam’s face was streaked with tears now, something akin to shame blushing his face. He looked so young and vulnerable and Dean reached out with his free hand to wipe at the tears. “Sammy.” It wasn’t an acknowledgement of the pain, or a reproach against the fear. It was a caress, the inflection making Sam’s eyes close.
“I-I begged, Dean. He…I gave him what he wanted.”
Dean disentangled his hand from Sam’s and lifted it up to meet his other, holding Sam’s face in his hands. His kiss was soft, gentle. “It kept you alive, Sammy. It kept you alive until I could find you.” His voice was tender, more like Sam’s voice than his own. He kissed Sam again. “And I did. I came for you. I found you and I’ve got you.”
Sam opened his eyes and Dean could see they had cleared a little bit. There was more of his brother in them than he’d seen in a while. “Now, what’s say you and me go kill us a ghost?”
Sam smiled and nodded. “Okay.” He was a little shaky getting out of the car, but by the time Dean had popped the trunk, Sam was reaching in for his shotgun and a shovel. All business, he checked the load and hefted the shovel over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“You drive.” Dean tossed Sam the keys and circled around the Impala to the passenger door.
Sam slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine, his hand automatically reaching for the radio volume to turn it down. He smiled sheepishly at Dean as he realized he’d already turned it down the night before and buckled his belt. “Where to?”
“East.” Dean said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Dad said he wanted us close. He’s in Texas, so we head toward him.”
“Did he say why?”
Dean frowned at his phone and tried to avoid the question.
“Dean?”
“Huh? Oh, no, not really. You know Dad.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Sam headed them out to the highway. “This should take us down to I-10. We can take that east.”
Dean nodded and flipped his phone closed. “That sounds good. Mind if I catch a nap?”
Sam shook his head and Dean smiled. “Wake me when it’s time to eat.”
Sam rolled his eyes and slapped at him playfully. “Sleep, doofus.”
Dean woke when the car jerked underneath him. He’d been vaguely aware of Sam’s phone ringing, then the car had flown sideways. He opened his eyes in time to see them very narrowly miss get plowed under a semi, as Sam stared blankly, his phone held to his ear. “Sammy, what the fuck?”
Dean wrenched the wheel to pull them back onto the road and into their own lane. Getting Sam’s foot off the gas wasn’t as easy and he had to resort to using one hand to steer, while his other pulled Sam’s foot from the gas and applied the break.
“Sam?” He threw the car in park and sat up, taking the phone from Sam’s stiff hand. There was laughter as Dean lifted it to his ear.
“Still coming to the rescue Dean?”
Garrett. Dean knew that as sure as he knew his own name. “You sick fuck-“
“Careful, Dean…How is my Sam?”
Dean’s eyes flicked over his brother. His throat constricted at the possessive. “I am so going to enjoy killing you Garrett.” Dean pressed the button to end the call, turning so that he could look at Sam. “Come on Sam. Look at me.”
Sam’s eyes stared straight ahead, his pupils blown, his face white. Dean’s fingers stroked over his face, while he whispered his brother’s name. “Sammy, it’s over. He’s gone.”
Sam turned a little at that, though his expression didn’t change. “Dean…”
“Yeah, Sammy, I’m here. I’m right here.”
He opened his car door and climbed out, kicking a tire in frustration before he moved to the driver’s side door. “Shit!” It took him some time to get Sam up and out of the car, but once he was moving, Sam was pliant enough and Dean was able to get him into the back seat where he curled into a fetal position. “Damn it Sammy.” Dean stalked around the car in frustration, then stopped cold. He reached into the seat where he’d dropped Sam’s phone.
The last call was still displayed, 915-721-4031. The area code was familiar, but it took him a minute to place it. When he did, he dropped the phone back on the seat and climbed in to the driver’s seat, his finger’s already dialing his father’s number on his own phone. “El Paso. The son of a bitch is in El Paso.” That’s all he said, hanging up and throwing the phone down beside Sam’s. He knew it could be a false lead, Garrett could have called from a cell phone from anywhere in the world, but somehow, Dean knew Garrett was taunting them. He wanted them to know where he was.
Now they did. And it didn’t matter what Garrett wanted. Dean was going to make him hurt.
Part Two Here
Title: Where It Hurts, Part One (not sure of how many)
Characters/Pairing: Sam, John, Dean, implied Sam/Dean, implied Sam/Other
Rating: NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 042 Sink
Word Count: 3112
Summary: Six months have passed since Sam's ordeal as the prisoner of Kendall Garrett. While John Winchester hunts for the bastard, Dean tries to hold Sam together while Sam slowly sinks under the pressure
Warnings: Very, very Dark Fic. This is a follow on to "The Good Son". The overall story will involve torture and rape. This is Part One. I'm thinking this will be in 5 or 6 parts.
"The Good Son" can be found:
First Part Here,
Second Part Here
Third Part Here
Fourth Part Here
Last Part Here
This is my ninth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
“Dean?” Sam’s voice was small, fragile in the dark.
Not now, Sammy. Dean thought as he rounded the corner where he’d last seen his brother. The hunt was already not going well, and for Sam to have a relapse now…
“Dean?” A little more urgent, more pained. Dean cursed under his breath and stepped into the room, immediately understanding his brother’s distress. The room was pitch black, no windows letting in ambient lighting from the streets, no sounds. Dean swallowed and stepped into the room.
“I’m here, Sammy,” he said softly, listening now for Sam’s position. Carefully, he turned on his light and swept it across the floor in front of him. “We need to get out of here, okay? I need you to come to me.”
“Can’t.” Dean’s light finally found him, huddled on the floor near the wall. Dean made his way over to him and squatted in front of him, one hand on his knee.
“Sammy, it’s okay. It’s all okay. I’m right here.”
Sam’s hand came up, shaking, and landing on Dean’s. It was a start. The nightmares were going to be bad tonight, Dean knew from experience. Six months after the hospital had finally released Sam, he was much better, but he was skittish and gun shy, which was something Dean wasn’t accustomed to.
Physically he wasn’t nearly a hundred percent, and Dean probably shouldn’t have brought him on this hunt, but Sam had insisted. “Come on Sam, let’s call it a night.”
Dean brought the light up to his brother’s face, and Sam instantly looked away. “Okay.”
With a sigh, Dean switched his grip from Sam’s knee to his hand and stood, drawing Sam with him. “This ghost isn’t showing its face tonight anyway.”
Sam was quiet in the car, refusing to even look at Dean. It was the silence maybe that frustrated Dean the most. It was brooding and dark and it meant Sam was somewhere in his head that Dean knew wasn’t good for him. Worse, Dean didn’t know what to say or do to draw him out.
“You want to get some pizza?” He asked as they neared the motel they were staying at. “I could swing by-“
“Not hungry.” Sam said, glancing at Dean briefly before turning to look out the window again.
“You have to-“ Dean stopped himself as he saw Sam stiffen. Demands and commands had never been the best approach with his little brother, and since Garrett they were sure to bring one of two responses. “I’m sorry. I worry. You haven’t eaten all day.”
“Not hungry.” Sam said again. Dean nodded and drove the rest of the way in silence. Sam was slow getting out of the car and when Dean reached out to him at the door to their room, he pulled away.
“Will you take your pills at least?”
Sam looked like he wanted to argue but the look on Dean’s face stopped him and he nodded. “Good. I’ll get you a glass-“
“I’m not a child or an invalid, Dean. I can do it myself.” Sam said, his voice quiet, but hard. Dean closed his eyes and sighed.
When it was like this there wasn’t much Dean could do or say, just wait for the nightmares, the tears and the ultimate apology he insisted Sam need never offer. Dean kicked off his boots and jeans and stretched out on his bed, waiting for Sam to come back from the bathroom to turn off the lights. Sam hesitated between the beds, as if trying to decide which one to chose, then chose the empty one. Dean sighed again and turned off the light, knowing sleep wasn’t going to come easily.
Sam lay in the dark listening to his brother breathing. The light from the outside lamp lined the window and Sam had left the bathroom light on, though he’d closed the door. He felt weak and silly. His stomach churned as he remembered the dark that had swallowed him, the thoughts in his head, the voice that had slithered out of its hiding place to drop him to the floor.
He was less than worthless to his brother like this, and it frustrated him. He’d suggested that Dean move on without him a few weeks before, and Dean’s response had been intense. Sam sighed and rolled to his side, his back to Dean. His hand rested on his thigh, just above the mark that his captor had left on him. ”To remember me by” he had said. As if Sam would forget anytime soon.
He sighed again and tried to close his eyes. In the dark he could sometimes feel the hand, sliding over his skin, claiming him. No matter how he tried to go back to what passed for normal, everything had changed. Even his relationship with Dean was different. Not that that had ever really been normal.
Sam knew he was frustrating Dean, and the concern in his brother’s eyes whenever Sam sank into the darkness was touching, but it didn’t help. Dean wanted to be out hunting Garrett, but didn’t want to expose Sam to the danger that came with that. So they wandered, hunting minor hauntings and Sam sank slowly away from Dean and into the dark place that Garrett had created.
He sighed again and forced his eyes closed. He could feel the pills working their magic, pulling him toward sleep. Marshalling his breathing, Sam let go and surrendered to sleep.
“Welcome home, Sam. I’ve waited for you.”
Rumbling laughter shook him. The voice filled his ears, his head. Hands in the dark held him, touching his naked body.
“You didn’t think I would let you go that easily, did you?”
Hands gripped his chin, tilting his head to the side as if examining him. “Does your brother know what I did to you? Does he know that I know what a dirty boy you are?”
The hands traveled over his body now, knowingly cataloguing each mark they had made, each scar, until they came to the brand on his inner thigh. “Does he know that you belong to me, Sam?” Fingers traced the letters of the mark, gentle, almost loving. “Mine. Always.”
Dean woke to the distressed whimpering that told him this was one of the nightmares that centered around the mental torment Garrett had forced on Sam, not the physical. When it was physical the whimpers were screams and the uneasy tossing was frantic thrashing. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, watching for a minute before he sighed and stood.
Sam was sweating, his face grimacing. Dean crawled onto the bed, laying himself out beside his brother, face to face. His hand started on Sam’s head. It was the one part of his body Garrett hadn’t abused, the one place Dean knew he could touch Sam and not have it feed the nightmare. His fingers stroked gently over Sam’s forehead, brushing the hair away and exposing the smooth skin. As he moved down to his cheek, Dean pressed his palm to it, his thumb moving to stroke over Sam’s lips. They were chapped and rough.
“Sammy.” He whispered it, almost not even making any sound. “I’m right here, Sammy.” Dean moved his face closer, letting his breath touch Sam’s face. “Right here. Come back to me.”
Sam whimpered and shifted closer to Dean, his hands moving to capture Dean’s hand. “Dean,” he breathed and Dean sighed.
“Yes, Sammy. Right here.”
Sam’s eyes didn’t open, but Dean got the impression he had shifted out of the nightmare. Sam’s hand gripped his. “Stay.”
“Not going anywhere, Sammy.” Dean pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead. Sam turned, pulling Dean’s arm over him and settling in to a deeper sleep with his back pressed to Dean’s chest. Dean closed his eyes and settled in for a long night.
Sam was gone from the bed when Dean woke. The sound of the shower told him where his brother had gone and Dean stretched. A glance at his watch told him that it was nearly 9:30. His cell phone buzzed, rattling on the nightstand before he reached for it. The caller ID indicated his father’s number. Dean flipped his phone open. “Dad?”
“Yeah. How’s Sam?”
Dean made a face. “The same. Nightmares. He’s not eating. We had a relapse last night on a hunt.”
“I told you he isn’t ready.”
“You know Sam. He insisted.”
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere in New Mexico.”
“Good. Don’t wander too far. I’ve got a lead.”
Dean sat up. “Garrett?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Texas. I’ll know more in a few days. I want you close if I catch up to him.”
“Just tell me where.” Dean could almost picture his father nodding on the other end. “I mean it Dad. I want a piece of this bastard.”
“I know.”
There was silence then before Dean heard his father draw a deep breath. “You look after him.”
Dean nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
As Dean hung up the phone, Sam emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, his wet hair a mess. “Who was that?”
“Dad.”
“Where is he?”
“Texas.” Sam looked at him for a moment, as if he was going to ask what their father was doing in Texas then he shook his head. He turned his back to Dean to rummage through his bag. Dean’s eyes moved over the skin Sam very seldom left bare anymore, picking out the scars that had come from before Garrett, and each of them left by Garrett’s hand. “Want to get some breakfast?”
Sam nodded and pulled a t-shirt on over his head. “I want to go to the hall of public records to get some more information on that house.” His voice was slightly muffled as he pulled the shirt down.
“Good idea.” Dean agreed. He was willing to follow Sam’s lead and ignore the set back the night before, especially knowing he could be getting his hands on Garrett soon. Maybe once they’d caught up with the bastard, Sam could start to put this behind him. Maybe he could find his way up out of the darkness then. Dean got up to pull on his jeans so they could head to the diner for breakfast, hoping this was a meal Sam would actually eat, and not spend an hour pushing the food around his plate while he brooded.
The hall of records yielded a possible location of the body of the man whose ghost was haunting the old boarding house, where local legend said that the woman who ran the place had poisoned those who came to stay. Dean tried to convince Sam to stay behind at the hotel, but his brother simply shook his head and loaded his shotgun with rock salt. As they approached the house, Sam put his hand on his brother’s knee.
“I need to say something.”
“Don’t apologize.” Dean said with a note of warning in his voice.
“No, not that.” He bowed his head, his long bangs falling into his eyes. Dean resisted the urge to brush them aside. “Not…like that anyway. I-I need you to know…” He paused and looked out the window before turning to Dean. His eyes were dark and filled with an all too familiar pain. “Last night, in the house…it was…when I walked into the room and the door shut…I…”
Sam closed his eyes. Dean didn’t move despite wanting to just pull his brother to him and hold him. “Sammy, you don’t have to-“
“Yes, Dean, I do. If I don’t…it’s just going to keep swallowing me and maybe the next time I won’t find my way back out.”
Dean’s breath caught in his throat. The idea that Sammy might sink so far away that he couldn’t come back was like a blow to his stomach. His hand fell on top of Sam’s and he waited for him to continue.
“It was like a vision, that…intense. Only…not about someone else. It was as if I was there all over again. I could feel…” Sam swallowed and looked away.
They’d never really talked about what had happened. Dean knew in the most clinical way what the fucking bastard had done, but that didn’t begin to touch the reality of it. Sam was so broken when he’d found him and all he could do was hold the pieces together. The fear and the rage had taken up all the space he had, and he couldn’t think beyond them to the details. The details hadn’t mattered while Sam was lying in his lap, quivering in fear and relief and pain, chanting his name as if it was all that held him to reality.
Sam’s hand turned, his fingers threading through Dean’s. “He told me you left me.” Sam finally said, his face turning back toward Dean’s. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes. “He told me that you and Dad had left town, that you were happy I was gone.”
“Sam-“
“No, let me finish.” His voice was firm and Dean had to bite his lip to keep from stopping him. “I-I didn’t believe him, Dean. A part of me never believed him. A part of me knew you’d find me.”
Dean waited in the silence for what Sam hadn’t said. It took his brother a long time and when he spoke, his voice had lost its firmness. It quavered. “There was a part of me that did though. A part of me that gave up.”
Sam’s face was streaked with tears now, something akin to shame blushing his face. He looked so young and vulnerable and Dean reached out with his free hand to wipe at the tears. “Sammy.” It wasn’t an acknowledgement of the pain, or a reproach against the fear. It was a caress, the inflection making Sam’s eyes close.
“I-I begged, Dean. He…I gave him what he wanted.”
Dean disentangled his hand from Sam’s and lifted it up to meet his other, holding Sam’s face in his hands. His kiss was soft, gentle. “It kept you alive, Sammy. It kept you alive until I could find you.” His voice was tender, more like Sam’s voice than his own. He kissed Sam again. “And I did. I came for you. I found you and I’ve got you.”
Sam opened his eyes and Dean could see they had cleared a little bit. There was more of his brother in them than he’d seen in a while. “Now, what’s say you and me go kill us a ghost?”
Sam smiled and nodded. “Okay.” He was a little shaky getting out of the car, but by the time Dean had popped the trunk, Sam was reaching in for his shotgun and a shovel. All business, he checked the load and hefted the shovel over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“You drive.” Dean tossed Sam the keys and circled around the Impala to the passenger door.
Sam slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine, his hand automatically reaching for the radio volume to turn it down. He smiled sheepishly at Dean as he realized he’d already turned it down the night before and buckled his belt. “Where to?”
“East.” Dean said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Dad said he wanted us close. He’s in Texas, so we head toward him.”
“Did he say why?”
Dean frowned at his phone and tried to avoid the question.
“Dean?”
“Huh? Oh, no, not really. You know Dad.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Sam headed them out to the highway. “This should take us down to I-10. We can take that east.”
Dean nodded and flipped his phone closed. “That sounds good. Mind if I catch a nap?”
Sam shook his head and Dean smiled. “Wake me when it’s time to eat.”
Sam rolled his eyes and slapped at him playfully. “Sleep, doofus.”
Dean woke when the car jerked underneath him. He’d been vaguely aware of Sam’s phone ringing, then the car had flown sideways. He opened his eyes in time to see them very narrowly miss get plowed under a semi, as Sam stared blankly, his phone held to his ear. “Sammy, what the fuck?”
Dean wrenched the wheel to pull them back onto the road and into their own lane. Getting Sam’s foot off the gas wasn’t as easy and he had to resort to using one hand to steer, while his other pulled Sam’s foot from the gas and applied the break.
“Sam?” He threw the car in park and sat up, taking the phone from Sam’s stiff hand. There was laughter as Dean lifted it to his ear.
“Still coming to the rescue Dean?”
Garrett. Dean knew that as sure as he knew his own name. “You sick fuck-“
“Careful, Dean…How is my Sam?”
Dean’s eyes flicked over his brother. His throat constricted at the possessive. “I am so going to enjoy killing you Garrett.” Dean pressed the button to end the call, turning so that he could look at Sam. “Come on Sam. Look at me.”
Sam’s eyes stared straight ahead, his pupils blown, his face white. Dean’s fingers stroked over his face, while he whispered his brother’s name. “Sammy, it’s over. He’s gone.”
Sam turned a little at that, though his expression didn’t change. “Dean…”
“Yeah, Sammy, I’m here. I’m right here.”
He opened his car door and climbed out, kicking a tire in frustration before he moved to the driver’s side door. “Shit!” It took him some time to get Sam up and out of the car, but once he was moving, Sam was pliant enough and Dean was able to get him into the back seat where he curled into a fetal position. “Damn it Sammy.” Dean stalked around the car in frustration, then stopped cold. He reached into the seat where he’d dropped Sam’s phone.
The last call was still displayed, 915-721-4031. The area code was familiar, but it took him a minute to place it. When he did, he dropped the phone back on the seat and climbed in to the driver’s seat, his finger’s already dialing his father’s number on his own phone. “El Paso. The son of a bitch is in El Paso.” That’s all he said, hanging up and throwing the phone down beside Sam’s. He knew it could be a false lead, Garrett could have called from a cell phone from anywhere in the world, but somehow, Dean knew Garrett was taunting them. He wanted them to know where he was.
Now they did. And it didn’t matter what Garrett wanted. Dean was going to make him hurt.
Part Two Here