Title: Share and Share Alike (1/1)
Author: Silverkitsune1
Summary: Dean will do anything in his power to protect Sam.
Rating: PG. Gen.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of their respective characters. No money is being made from this.
Spoilers: All of season one, but this is a slight AU
Author's Notes: A big thank you (as always) to my beta Christie. A huge hug also goes out to the entire consandcritters LJ community whose comments are golden. They really helped shape this.
"Another mile and we're there, Sam."
Sam moved, and the action caused Dean's balance to shift and then be lost.
"Stop squirming!" Dean ordered sharply. Dean made several quick side shuffle steps as he fought to stay upright with his heavy load. "Seriously, dude. You want to hit the dirt ass first or something?"
When both his footing and his equilibrium were regained, Dean hitched Sam higher on his shoulder, a position that was more comfortable for the both of them, and squeezed his brother's ankle.
"Just one more mile, Sammy," he said softly, picking his way across the uneven ground. "Just one more."
The last leg of the trip took them downhill into a valley that was sheltered by high peeked mountains. There was a hum to the place, a string of low rumbling notes that hit Dean deep in the belly. It was not a pleasant feeling, or an unpleasant one, but it made Dean feel as though not all was in balance in this neatly scooped out piece of land. He wondered if Sam could feel the hum as well.
When Dean first found the valley he'd almost fallen in the transition between the thickly wooded forest and the smooth slope of the hill was so abrupt. Now he easily trotted down the slope, hoping over boulders and side stepping tangles of weeds with a sureness of footing.
He could see the cabin up ahead, an island of wood and glass in a sea of hip high grasses and wildflowers that looked gray and purple in the moonlight.
"Dad's fine, by the way," Dean said. "He'll be pissed as hell when he wakes up tomorrow, but he'll wake up."
There was no response from Sam, and Dean lengthened his stride moving quickly through the long stemmed grasses.
The cabin was just as Dean had left it, Spartan looking and clean. There was a refrigerator in the corner, a wooden table with two chairs in the center and a quilt covered bed pushed to the far wall.
He dropped Sam onto the bed and, predictably, the mattress sagged under his little brother's weight.
"Stay here," Dean said heading towards the refrigerator. It was an unnecessary order.
The blast of icy cold that hit Dean when he opened the freezer door felt good against his skin, and he paused to inhale the crisp empty smell. Like the cabin, the freezer was practically empty. A case of unopened Coronas occupied the right corner, and four red packets of blood took up the left. Dean grabbed one of each before closing the door.
He dropped the blood packet into the sink to thaw, then pulled the top of the beer off with his teeth and spat the cap across the room.
Dean winced at the sight of his brother's large frightened brown eyes. There was anger in the gaze, as well, and the two emotions rippled and shifted one replacing the other at quicksilver speeds. Dean looked away, and his free hand rubbed the back of his head.
When he'd pulled the bandana in-between Sam's teeth, his knees pinning the younger man's arms to the bed in the motel in god knows where, Colorado, he'd known what he was doing. Any misgivings had been silenced at the sight of his father, an unmoving lump in the other bed. Dean could have been anyone, anything, breaking into the room in the middle of the night to steal Sam away, and instead of being at the ready his father was asleep.
It wasn't his dad's fault. John was only human, and while he also carried the title of hunter being human still meant there were a great number of talents John would never master. John would never be able to move like a cat, all sinew and shadow through the dark nights. He'd never find himself able to snap doors off their hinges with his bare hands, or pick his way through an inky black darkness without the help of a light. He'd never be able to track his prey through smell alone, and he would never be able to hear the panther soft footsteps of every creature that went bump in the night before it struck. To expect that from anyone was insanity. However, to Dean, this hadn't been anyone, this had been his father, the one other person Dean trusted Sam's safety to, and that trust had evaporated under a symphony of soft snores. Now all Sam had to look out for him was Dean. It somehow wasn't enough.
That crystal clear revelation was what kept Dean moving. It was what made Sam's muffled whimpers bearable, and what made the look on his father's face when he'd seen Dean's eyes glow flat and yellow in the lamp light hurt less. Now it was what allowed him to sit on a sagging mattress in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, and finish the job he'd begun. Part of protecting his brother meant making sure that Sam had the means to protect himself. What better way to accomplish that than to make him stronger, faster, better than the things in the world that might hurt him?
He ran a hand through Sam's hair, but the younger man jerked away.
Dean rolled his eyes. He grabbed the chain of the handcuffs that bound his brother's wrists and tugged him closer. "Stop being a drama queen."
Sam raised both eyebrows at him, and cocked his head to the side.
"And stop looking at me like I'm going to eat you," Dean continued, his fingers making quick work of the gag's knot. Once he had it free Dean bunched the cloth in his hand.
"I know you're not going to eat me," Sam said, gag gone, glare still in place.
"Good."
"But I'm not drinking any of it, Dean."
"Sam-"
"No. I know what you're doing, and it's not going to happen." The glare was suddenly replaced by deep desperation, and a glassy look that Dean was afraid might be the start of tears. "Dude, I'm not going to leave you. You don't have to do this to make me stay. I know what happened, and we can figure something out."
"I'm not doing this to make you stay, Sammy," Dean said gently. "I'm doing this to protect you."
"I don't need you to protect me!" Sam cried. "Not like this. I won't do this."
Dean slipped his hand under Sam's chin, his index finger feeling out the pulse point. The beat was slow, steady, like that of a man in a deep sleep.
"You've already done it, kiddo."
"What?"
Dean held the gag in his lap, and he lifted it up for his brother to inspect. The edges were a cheerful orange sherbet color, but the center, still damp with Sam's spit, was stained a dull red.
"I soaked it before I went to get you," Dean said. "I'm sort of surprised you didn't notice the taste. You've been swallowing my blood for the last couple of hours."
Sam's face twisted, and then his expression crumbled. "Oh god."
"It's not going to hurt," Dean soothed, laying his hand on Sam's shoulder. "You're just going to fall asleep for a little bit. This stuff is practically a date rape drug, it knocks you out so fast."
Sam shut his eyes, and his teeth worried away at his lower lip.
"You'll be hungry when you wake up, but I've got dinner covered," Dean said with a nod to the sink. "And don't freak out on me, because I didn't drain anyone dry for your first meal as a new man. I stole them from a blood bank."
"Dean-," Sam started, but the rest of the words never came.
"It's going to be fine, little brother," Dean said. Cupping Sam's chin he once again rested his fingers under Sam's pulse point. "I'm right here."