Supernatural - The Beast Within -

-(This is still work in progress, all feedback welcome)-

The old house was run down and smelled of timber rot when Dean entered through the squeaking backdoor.
It was a quiet weekday and the whole neighbourhood was either at work or just didn't care about the intruder on this bright morning. The house looked seriously abandoned from the outside and the neglect continued inside. The kitchen sink was filled with piles of old dishes and pans and pots. The garbage had not been emptied in weeks and rats had found their way in. Dean stepped on a few cockroaches on his way to the living room and cursed this rundown place. The pale sunlight was filtered through rotten curtains and the inside looked dusty and eerie like a misty day. Dean listened out for the smallest noise, a sign that a person or anything else was in the house but the guy that lived here, that he and Bobby had hunted down, did not mention any partners. To this point Dean wasn't sure the old guy had even given him the right address before he crossed him over to hell, but it was the only hope he had left to find his little brother Sam Winchester. It had been 6 months since Sam disappeared and this was the only real clue he had left. Everything else had proven to be a dead end.The floorboards squeaked under Dean's weight and drew his attention to the basement. Dean looked down and decided he would check the basements first, then the attic.He found the door in the kitchen soon after he had moved the kitchen cupboard, containing only a few old china mugs. This must be the right house, he thought, why else would someone block this door. Of course it was locked but Dean did not want to kick it in, in case there were stairs behind it. He had done this before without thinking and falling down 12 steps isn't as much fun as in the movies. He pulled a lock pick set from his pocket and picked the padlock on the bar the old guy must had installed over the width of the door. After the second attempt it was open. He moved the bar and opened the door carefully. A horrible stench hit him in the face and he had to concentrate hard not to throw up. The heavy maglite in one hand the gun in the other, Dean carefully took one creaking step at a time, alert not to trip after all. Again, he caught site of the usual vermin in the corner of his eye, but he tried to be prepared for what lay ahead. His heart was beating fast and the smell was vile, but at least it didn't smell like a decaying body, so maybe there was still hope if Sam had been trapped down here all this time. Dean tried not to think about his past 6 months down in this hole, just kept moving forward. He decided that it was time to make himself known.

"Sam? Sammy?" he whispered carefully into the smelly darkness, but there was no response, though he thought he had heard a rattling sound somewhere.

"Sam, are you here?" he whispered again, but slightly louder.

There was this rattling noise again, it reminded him of a heavy chain. Dean turned around a few times, investigating the dark corners over and over again.

"Sam, are you here? Answer me damnit" Again, rattling! Where did it come from?

He had thought it was an old pile of rags before, so Dean had missed the shapeless mess in one corner. Carefully he stepped closer, his gun sharp, just in case it wasn't his brother there, but just another poor, maybe insane soul, or even a demon. As he came closer Dean more and more recognised the legs and arms of a human being who used his hands to cover his head for protection. The body was trembling, probably in fear. Dean wasn't sure it was his little brother curled up there though, or maybe he hoped it wasn't him after all. He could not imagine the state he must be in. Whoever it was he was not wearing any clothes and his pink skin was covered in dirty streaks. His hair was long and frizzy and hadn't been cut in a while.

"Sammy?" He asked again, his voice trembling slightly and cautiously he put one hand on the person's shoulder. The body shrugged away from the touch and tried to curl up in an even smaller bundle.

Dean sighed and ran his hand over his own mouth in a gesture that usually indicated that he was rethinking his strategy. What should he do? How do you reach out to someone that scared? How do you make a person feel safe? He decided that whatever he did he couldn't possibly make it worse, so he stretched his hand out again, this time towards the face to get a better look at the person. Gently he pushed one hand and some hair aside and his heart stopped for a moment as the boy that shyly blinked into the bright light of his torch, was indeed his little brother Sammy Winchester.

"Oh god, Sammy!" He put the torch on the floor, leapt forward and hugged his brother as tight as he could, no matter what; he just had to, even though he smelled like a garbage bag.

He pushed the wild hair aside to see the familiar face in the shady light. Sam looked disorientated and estranged, as if he didn't recognise who Dean was.

"Let's get you out of here, little brother." Dean announced, his arm around Sam, trying to help him up. It was then, that he finally felt the metal collar around Sam's neck.

"Oh tell me this bastard did not chain you up like a freaking dog down here!" Dean grumbled. "What else he do to you?"

Sam didn't look directly at Dean or answer him. Dean felt so angry and if the old man hadn't already been dead for a few days, he would make sure he'd suffer a long and painful death. Of course Dean had no tools on him, and didn't want to leave Sam again, to get a cutter from the trunk of the Impala parked in an empty side street. He couldn't leave Sam, not just now that he had just found him, as he lay frightened and shivering in his arms, in desperate need for his protection.
He warned Sam before he shot a few times to break the chain, which seemed to surprise and scare Sam a little. As Dean did not bring a blanket he took his own Army Jacket off, worrying about dry-cleaning later, wrapping it around his little brother, barely covering his tall naked body. When they were little, Dean always took care of his younger brother and at times Dean had seen more of his brother than he wished he had. Right now, none of this mattered. He put one arm around Sam's shoulder and helped him out of this hellhole. It took a while to get him upstairs and Dean prayed that the water hadn't been disconnected to the house yet.He had no time to wonder about Sam's state of mind when he sat him down in the grubby old tub. Dean opened the tabs and the pipes started crying and moaning as if they house had a soul that was in pain, like Sam, but who had been strangely quiet the whole time. Sam kept his chin rested on his chest and his arms slung around his legs. He looked so miserable that it broke Dean's heart to see his little brother like this. Dean wanted to tell him that he was so sorry he hadn't found him earlier and that he had left no stone unturned to find him, but he wished it hadn't been that long. He wanted to take the pain from him, but didn't how how, so instead, he tried to keep his usual game face up, he new that Sammy would appreciate that more, than being pitied.

Finally the faucets spat out rusty water and eventually it ran clean, it also warmed up a little, so the boiler must have come back to life as well. Dean rinsed some of the dirt down the plughole, then closed it and let the tub fill up, while he left the bathroom to give Bobby a quick call.
As he paced up and down the corridor, Dean told Bobby, that he found Sammy and that he was alive, yet not sure how okay he was and that he looked "broken somehow". Bobby told him to be gentle with Sam and to keep a low profile and that they should try and get to his place as soon as possible.

When Dean finally returned, the tub was nearly full. He shot forward to close the tabs before the tub could overflow. Sam seemed to be caught up in his own little world at the moment and who could blame him. Dean folded up the sleeves of his checked shirt and found a sponge that almost smelled clean and would do for now. He also found a bar of soap and gently he started rubbing the dirt out of Dean's face, squeezing clean water out of the sponge, trying to wash Sam's frizzy hair. When they were little he always cut his little brothers hair when they were on the move. Usually he took a plastic bowl or colander, placed it on his head and simply cut around its rim. He wondered if he should go downstairs and look for a clean one but doubted that he would find anything but rusty scissors in the kitchen drawers. He decided it was worth the try.
"Here Sammy, try and wash the dirt off and I'll also get you your clothes out of the car." he tried to produce a smile that would reassure Sammy that he would take car of him like he used to, that he was safe again, but his brother didn't look at him.

"Don't go anywhere again, okay"

Somehow he doubted that Sam would.

His steps soon disappeared downstairs and were followed by some distant rummaging sounds and passionate cursing from the kitchen. Sam hesitantly looked around the old bathroom with its cracked tiles and slowly reached for the floating sponge by his feet. His knees were scabbed over from sores he had developed over the months in the basement He slowly moved the sponge over one arm and watched the dirt on his skin only slowly disappear. He was so grateful for his brother Dean who had finally found him and rescued him from the basement, but he wasn't sure if that was also the right thing to do. Little, if nothing did Dean know of the past 6 months that had slowly driven him to the brink of insanity. The old man had good reason to lock him away like an animal, maybe even to put the collar on him. Sam reached for the metal ring around his neck. He remembered his screams and protest when the old man came to him one night and put the collar on him, then the chain that would tie him to a 2 feet radius. The old man had treated him like shit all those months, like an animal, until Sam was sure he was one, until he saw what the old man had seen in him all along.

Dean returned and pulled Sam back from his thoughts. Finally Sam looked up wearily and spotted a bowl and some scissors in Deans hands and his rucksack over Dean's shoulder.

"Thank god we carry towels my brother. Everything in this stinking place is dead, even the towels. Here, wear this for a minute" he said and quickly placed the bowl upside down on Sam's head. Sam looked at Dean as if he was the insane one.

"Okay, now hold still" Dean announced and Sam didn't dare to move an inch while Dean worked his way through his thick filthy hair.

"It's no Toni&Guy cut, but it will do" he smiled as he finished the last bit off.

"Thanks" Sam finally managed to say. The words came dry from his throat and it sounded like he really had to think hard to remember how to speak.

"Sure"

"I mean.."

"I know Sammy, I know. Look, I brought you your stuff, there are towels in your backpack, will you be ok on your own for a bit or do I also need to dress you like I used to until you were 12?"

Sam pressed the sponge against his knee and nodded. He didn't get the joke. Dean padded Sam's head and gave him a compassionate look.

"Ok, shout if you need anything, ok?"

"Ok"

-(TBC)-