DISCLAIMER: Not Mine!

His brother was missing. Dean had gone out to get supplies, and simply vanished. For the past twenty four hours Sam had called Dean's cell, the messages he left at two ours gone had been curious. At four hours they had become pissy. By morning they had been angry, anger turned to worry, worry to pleading. He knew for a fact Dean was in trouble. Hurt or taken, again.

Sam found the car unlocked and abandoned in front of a filthy diner with a mud parking lot and rotting steps. He flashed Dean's picture to the waitress and the cook, but they looked at him blankly, denying that they had seen his brother. He knew they were lying. After all, it takes one to know one.

Sam bided his time and waited. The diner was his only lead, and he would get the information he needed one way or another. He stood in the shadows and watched the staff lock up and chat briefly before heading to their cars. The bus boy, or dishwasher, whatever he was, stood in the lot on his cell phone after everyone else had driven off. Sam smiled at his luck.

The boy had been a fountain of information. Dean had come in and ordered, flirted with the ladies, then left with two large men. He hadn't waited for the food, even the extra pie he had ordered. The boy knew their names, Earl and Sonny. Their addresses and where they worked. The boy had gladly spilled his guts while staring down the barrel of a shot gun.

Sam swung by both addresses, but the houses were dark. He headed for the warehouse where they worked and saw their cars in the lot. This was just too easy. He tucked the Impala between buildings and kept to the shadows,covertly looking for any signs of where his brother could be. There were no security guards, no locked fences. It was dark and deserted as only a hick town could be at 9PM. He easily forced a window and vaulted through.

Old fluorescent lights flickered overhead, and Sam drew his gun. He felt for the flask of holy water in his pocket and continued to scour the building for Dean.

He paused hearing a noise and focused on it. A woman crying, pitiful sobs like the world was ending. Following the sound he began to hear voices, arguing, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Sliding to the edge of the door, he looked in the cavernous room. A woman was curled against the wall beaten bloody. The bruises weren't new, they had already blossomed purple and black over her face and arms, but the blood was fresh.

One of the men approached her, kicking her in the side yelling "Whore!" She curled in on herself continuing to sob.

He turned to the sound of his brother's angry voice.

Dean's arms were tied over his head to a metal joist. He was a mass of bruises and blood. "You feel like a big man, hitting the little lady? Oh, your Momma must be so proud of you." Dean mocked, drawing the big man's attention and earning him a fierce punch to his ribs then his face.

An immaculately dressed man sat with his feet up, watching the show. He leaned forward and prodded the man. "He was the one who made your wife into a whore, you saw them together, they were mocking you." His eyes glowed black.

The man again turned his fury on his wife.

The older of the warehouse workers stood staring at Dean, the blood on his knuckles attested to the fact that he had already joined the party.

"It was your daughter at the diner Earl, don't you wonder what he would have done if he had gotten her alone. If he leaves here, he will go right back there, and she will do whatever he wants. He has that effect on women. Brings out their inner slut."

"I didn't do anything to anyone, he is a liar." Dean said gasping for breath.

"There is only one way to end this. We all know it." He handed the younger man a wicked ten inch bowie knife.

Sonny approached his wife and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back.

Sam knew where this was headed and shot a round of rock salt into the mans back. He dropped like a stone, knife clattering to the floor. It wouldn't kill him but it would hurt like a bitch. He flew into the room and tossed an arc of holy water at the demon running the show. He yelped in agony and smoked out of the possessed body. The man dropped to his knees then teetered over.

Dean struggled against his bonds but they wouldn't budge. Sam swung the butt of the shotgun at the older man, catching him squarely in the temple. He staggered back and fell back over his friend in a tangled heap.

Sam picked up the knife on the floor and hacked at Dean's restraints.

"Bout time." Dean said smiling. "RUN." he said to the cringing woman. She did.

Just as Dean's arms dropped, he saw the demon's vessel draw out a hand gun and aim it at Sam's back. Dean shoved his brother hard and he listed to the left. Dean jerked as he heard the shots, then felt the bullets rip into him. He remained standing, feeling numb and stunned. He looked down at Sam, he wasn't hit, thank God.

The man ran at Dean with a knife in his hand and tackled him to the floor. Sam howled furiously and picked the little man off his brother as if he weighed nothing. Two well placed punches and the man was an unconscious. Sam tossed him away and dropped to his brother.

"We gotta go, can you walk?" Sam grabbed the arm Dean offered him and pulled him to a standing position. Sam's head turned to the sound of a cell on speaker phone lying near the little man.

911 what is the nature of your emergency, hello, 911 are you there? We are dispatching fire and rescue to your location...Hello, is anyone there?

"Son of a bitch." Dean mumbled.

Sirens blared as he leaned back against the alley wall. He eased his head around the corner of the building and saw patrol cars, fire trucks and ambulances lining both sides of the street. Crime scene tape was already cordoning off the area around the warehouse entrance, crime scene investigators taking pictures of the bloody concrete walkway.

Dean's blood.

He held him up, nearly supporting his full weight with the injured man's arm pulled over his shoulder. "Hey, you still with me?" Sam said, still scanning the street. When there was no answer, he swung his head to look at his brother. Dean's head was lolling back, his face nearly unrecognizable from the swelling and bruises. Fresh blood trickled down and dripped off his chin.

Sam stumbled as Dean fell lax in his arms. An older man drinking from a brown paper bag walked by the alley and caught sight of the boys. "Get a room." he said, laughing at his own joke.

He needed a plan. They needed to get away from the carnage as fast as they could, but Dean needed help. The hospital was out, at least for now. They would be looking for gunshot wounds, and his brother had two. The Impala was blocked in by rescue vehicles, and dragging an unconscious bleeding man into it would draw attention to them they didn't need.

He dragged Dean deeper into the alley and forced the lock on the first door they came to. Sam listened briefly before hauling his brother's dead weight into the darkened storage room. He could hear people going about their business in the main part of the building, and just hoped they would stay away until he had time to think.

He seated his brother with his back in the corner, propped up by the walls. Pulling out Dean's lighter he flicked it on and surveyed their hiding place. He squatted down next to his brothers unconscious form and began to check him for injuries.

He ripped open Deans shirt to check the two oozing holes, one in his shoulder, and one on his bicep. He reached around the back of his arm and was relieved to feel an exit wound. Tipping him forward, he was not able to find one for the shoulder wound. Damn, that would have to come out. He wadded up pieces of the shirt and put pressure on the wounds.

"Dean, Come on man, you gotta wake up." He needed more light. "Hey, come on dude its not that bad, you've been worse and taken down a demon, nows not the time..." Sam stopped speaking when he heard the rattle in his brothers chest. He coughed weakly and blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth.

This was bad. He may have to risk the police and call an ambulance.

Sam stood and pulled the gun from behind his back, sliding toward the door leading deeper into the building. Light crept under the bottom and if he listened very closely he could hear people talking, smell food...maybe it was a restaurant, or a bar. He could feel the heavy base of Three Day's Grace reverberating on the floor.

"Thanks Vince, I'll see you Tuesday,." he heard a woman say, the the distinctive jingle of a door shutting. "You three, here's the cooler bag, pack it with ice and grab some of this for the trip. Driving over night is a great idea, if you've slept...which you haven't."

"Mom, its a six hour drive I think we'll live." he heard another young woman say.

"Humor me." "I'm gonna lock up. Do you girls have everything you need?" a trio of "YES" answered her. "Ok , I don't know what I will do for a week with you gone, but I'll figure it out." "sunscreen girls!"

The door was heard again followed by the sound of keys and several dead bolts being thrown. The lights dimmed, the music shut off and he heard the sound of glass on glass.

Dean roused and let out a pained moan, and began to cough in earnest. Sam turned as his brother slid from the corner to the floor rolling into a fetal position.

"Hello?" he heard, a split second before the door in front of him slowly began to open. Flat against the wall, he watched as dim light spilled into the room, casting her shadow on the floor. He could see she carried a weapon before he heard the distinctive cock of a shot gun. She pushed the door and the triangle of light expanded, revealing Dean's battered and bleeding on the floor.

She reached for the light switch and rushed to Dean, carefully rolling him onto his back. "Oh my God! Hey, Hey are you OK? She leaned over and placed her ear over Dean's mouth, then placed two fingers at this neck searching for a pulse. Sam let out a breath when she set the shotgun down and turned back to his brother. "Its alright honey, I'm gonna get you help."

She stood and turned directly into Sam's chest.

He had to admit, she fought like a wild woman, he was punched kicked, bitten, even head butted, but she was in her 40s, and Sam was 28 and a mountain trained in hand to hand combat.

"I'm going to uncover your mouth, but if you scream, I'm going to stop you. Do you understand me?"

The woman nodded but looked at him with fury, not fear. Any other time he would have admired that, but not now, not tonight with his brother bleeding out.

"What did you do to him you bastard?" she spat at him, struggling again against his hold. He squeezed the woman's upper arms just tight enough to be a threat, and she stilled. "Look, he is gonna die if we don't call an ambulance, you just go. There is money under the register, take it and run. Let me get him help. You made your point, he has been hurt enough. It'll be murder, do you want that?"

"I didn't hurt him he is my brother." " No hospitals, he wouldn't...we can't. We just need to get out of here, I'll take care of him. I've seen worse he'll be fine." "Look, I don't want to hurt you, we will just be here until I can get to my car."

Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean who hadn't moved from his back. He saw deans hands were blue, his eyes now totally swollen shut, and his breathing was shallow and wet.

"I don't have time for this." Sam said, grabbing a roll of duct tape from a shelf and wrapping it around her wrists. "Do I have to cover your mouth?" she nodded no as he sat her against the wall, kicking away her discarded sawed off.

With the overhead lights on he got his first clear view of his brother since he carried him in. It was so bad. His hands hovered over him not knowing where to start.

"Dean, hey." he said frantically. "Hey I gotta get your shirt off, I'm so sorry."

"Let me help." the woman said. " P!" he screamed at her, as panic blossomed in his chest.

"Look, I've been a nurse for years," she said in a slow calming voice. " If you aren't gonna call anyone and you don't want him to die, like right now, we need to get that bleeding stopped. You've got to watch his airway, with his face bashed up like that something could be swelling in there, you just don't know."

"You have a first aid kit?" he said, really looking at her for the first time. Sure enough she was wearing black scrubs with Kim Christian RN embroidered on the front. When she nodded he hauled her to her feet and headed through the door. He surveyed the room seeing a long lacquer bar curving against the wall, with maybe two dozen tables scattered around a line of pool tables. As they passed through, Sam tore the phone out of the wall and tossed it on the floor. He wanted no surprises. He could see the flashing of the police cruisers still reflecting on the buildings outside. Damn. Couldn't one thing go right today?

He grabbed the kit and a bottle of 151 as they headed back to his brother.

"We need to get him off the floor, its concrete and dirty. Its also cold as hell." she said.

Sam looked around the room and saw that all the tables could be seen from the front window, with the exception of the three to the left of the bar. He pushed her onto a bench then shoved the tables end to end, the tested their steadiness. The sound of Dean's wretching drew her back to her feet. Sam ran to him and turned hm onto his side so he wouldn't aspirate and drown on the bloody mess he was bringing up.

"Get his legs." Sam said, but noticing her hands were bound, he said "Never mind'. He pulled Dean into a seated position and lifting him, under his arms, tearing off the rest of his shirt. He backed into the Bar and eased him onto the white cloth covered tables. Deans head limply fell to the side.

"So your brother's name is Dean."

"Ya." he looked up and her hands were held out to him in front of her, still bound in duct tape. He reluctantly cut the tape.

"What happened?"

Sam ignored her.

"We need hot water, do you want me to get it or are you going to?" she said. "Get the stack of towels near the tap too, and that duct tape." She said to his retreating back.

Dean stirred on the table, opening his swollen eyes to see a blurry figure leaning over him.

"Ellen?" he whispered? No Ellen was dead. "Where's Sammy?"

"No, honey, my name is Kim. Your brother is here, we are gonna patch you up OK?"

Dean nodded no. He didn't want to be fixed up, he wanted to be left alone. Everything hurt. He tried to move but it felt like there were knives impaling him to the ground along his whole left side. He gasped and then choked from the pain, causing more dark blood to ooze out the corner of his mouth.

Sam rushed to him balancing the basin of water and put his hand on his brothers chest. Relief flowed over him.

"Dean, I'm here." he said. "I'm thinking this time you are gonna need the ER dude. You got a bullet still in your shoulder and I don't think you are in any condition for field surgery."

"No, No way." Dean said. "Where..?"

"A bar." Sam offered, considering the subject closed.

Sam dipped a bar cloth into the basin and sponged the blood off his brother. The wound on his arm had clotted over, but his shoulder still steadily leaked blood.

"Sorry man," Sam said, tipping the 151 over the wounds.

Dean's whole body jerked and he screamed as if someone was tearing his heart out. He dropped back to the table blessedly unconscious.

Sam quickly poured the bottle over his hand and stuck his finger slowly into the shoulder wound. He didn't need to go too far before he felt the bullet. He needed to dig it out before his brother woke up.

"Were you a medic?" the woman said. She had seen third year residents vomit at the sight of a gun shot wound, and this man had stuck his hand in without a second thought. "Ya, a medic." he said. "I need something to dig it out with. Something thin and long. You have a needle here anywhere? Any kind of sewing kit? I don't want to have to cauterize it."

When Dean began to stir, Sam reached down to the blade at his ankle, poured the alcohol over it, and dug for the bullet, trying to finish before he became any more aware. "Hold him." he said to the woman with him. The bullet popped free with a new spill of blood. He wadded up a clean towel and pressed it to the wound. "Needle?" he said to her...waiting for a response.

"I have a sewing kit in my bag, but its a cheap dollar store one." "You're welcome to it, you want me to go get it? Its right under the bar." She said hopefully.

"Press on this." he said forcing her hand over the wound. He stalked to the bar and pulled the woman's purse from underneath. He quickly dumped the contents onto the bar and was shocked to see a glock fall free with a metallic thump. "Nice." he said, unloading the clip and stuffing the weapon into his pocket. "Play with guns often?" She looked up with a guilty shrug. He grabbed the sewing kit and pulled out a needle and some flimsy black thread. He threaded it then doused it in alcohol just as Dean roused with a pitiful moan.

"Bullet's out. Gonna sew you up, try to hold still OK, it'll be fast." Sam grabbed the torn tissue of his shoulder and pulled it together, causing Dean to jerk and writhe, but he didnt pull away. Stitching clean and fast he closed the wound, dousing it again causing another muffled shout.

"Somethings wrong, there is too much blood."

"What? Sam said looking up.

"Look, she said, pointing to a growing pool below the table. The white table cloth below Dean was saturated and dripping onto the floor. "Roll him over." she said, trying to pull Dean onto his side. She grabbed his belt loop for leverage and he screamed.

"No." Dean said, pushing away the hands grabbing at him. "We're done. Sam we're done."

He rolled Dean against him, ignoring his brother's protests. "Stopppppppppppppp God stop, Sam...Sam stop it please."

Sam gasped at the ominous slick of blood under his brother. The nurse leaned over the table and yanked at the edge of Dean's pants, her hand came back bloody. She reached forward and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, trying to ease them down carefully to look for the bleed. "Put him on his stomach, there's something here."

"No, I cant...GOD Sammy knock me out!" He did gladly with a quick clip on the jaw.

Dean flopped to his belly and the two eased his clothing down just a few inches, uncovering a gaping three inch stab wound oozing on his left hip. Immediately Sam pressed a towel to it applying pressure.

"Oh God, how could I have missed this?" Sam said, full of self loathing. The wound felt wrong under his hand, he pulled back the towel and saw a telltale glint of metal before it was enveloped in a well of blood. "There's something in there." he said prodding in the hole. He pulled his hand back with a hiss of pain, blood pouring from a cut on his finger. "The blade is still in there, we need to get it out."

"Hold on." She said to Sam, running back in the storage room, coming back with a nasty pair of needle nosed pliers. She poured the remaining 151 over it before handing them to Sam and holding the wound open. Sam grabbed the metal and pulled, a 5 inch blade slid free with a slurp.

Had laying him on his back made it worse? Pushed the bade in further? No wonder Dean didn't want to be moved, that had to be excruciating. He looked up to see his captive handing him a needle threaded with pastel pink thread.

"Thanks." he said.

"Look, while you are sewing that up, I'm going to get the rest of his clothes off to look for any more surprises. You good with that?"

"Ya, thanks."

She eased his pants and boxers down, leaving Dean naked as the day he was born. She felt under his legs and arms, prodded the back of his head, and looked him over closely before getting more hot water to wash the rest of the blood away.

Sam saw her head to the back room and come back with a duffle, she pulled free a stethescope and listened to his lungs, then pulled a packet of betadine wipes from the side pocket with a couple of saline flush syringes and a gauze dressing. She painted the stitches on his hip with the betadine, then covered it with the dressing. She handed Sam a wipe and nodded toward the shoulder wound. Sam repeated the action and stuck a dressing over the now orange stitches.

"He shouldn't bend that hip, I have no clue how he is going to walk out of here without tearing that open."

"We'll manage, but thanks."

I have some scrubs in here, at least he doesn't have to leave commando. She said tossing the pants from her bag at Sam.

For the first time since he entered the building, Sam smiled. They were a lovely rose color.

Pounding on the front window drew their attention. Sam grabbed for her but she stepped out of his reach. A flash light shone in, the beam landing squarely on the woman. She looked at Sam, and paused for just a second, then walked calmly to the door. She threw the dead bolts and found herself facing two police officers.

"Hey Kim, what are you doing here so late?" the young officer said, scanning the room behind her.

"Just cleaning up, it was a messy crew. The girls stayed until closing then took off for Hampton Beach for a week, so I'm not hurrying." "Saw some commotion around back, whats up?"

"Some wackos beat three guys senseless. Don't know what was going on, but it was something shady, lots of blood, a set of shackles. Satanic looking crap painted on the walls. You just don't see that every day."

"Creepy, glad I missed it." She said smiling. "I'm gonna just pack up and head out, give your mom my love Kevin OK ? You two be safe out there."

"Take it easy Kim." he said.

She threw the dead bolts back into place.

"Its OK, they're gone." she said...to an empty room.

"What the hell Sam?"

"Don't bend!" "Stop it Dean, just let me slide you out. Damnit stop fighting me!"

"What the hell are you doing to me? Just let me...AAAAAAAAAAAAAArg! I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"JUST. HOLD. STILL!"

Sam physically lifted Dean from the back of the Impala and propped him facing the car. He ran over and unlocked the motel room door, then went directly to the bed to pull back the linens. He was more than a little surprised to see that Dean hadn't moved, and was leaning against the car breathing heavily.

"Do you need me to carry you?"

"Screw you Bitch."

"Jerk"

"Come on, lets get you into bed."

When the light hit him Dean squinted, the noticed with horror he was wearing rose colored pants.

"Seriously?" he said

"Your stitches are pink."

"The hell they are."

"You have pink stitches on your ass."

"Its my hip dude, and they are red from the blood I shed saving your damned life.

Sam eased Dean into the bed onto his stomach, then checked his wounds for bleeding. He felt Dean's skin, it was clammy but there was no sign of fever...yet.

He unloaded the car and passed dean a flask of Jack with a couple percocet.

'Could you eat? I could go out and get supplies."

"Isn't that where this all started?"

"Drive through?"Sam offered, which was a big concession considering how much he hated Mc D's

"Ya, OK."

"Dean. You took a bullet for me, again." he said sitting on the second bed

"So?"

"So quit it."

"No."

"How did they take you?" Sam asked.

"He had a gun on the girl, I figured I could get the drop on them. They knocked me out then it was too late." "Thanks for coming to get me Sammy. I knew you would."

"You think that was personal? I mean, the Demon smoked out the then human he was riding attacked us."

"If it is we will find out soon enough." Dean said relaxing, feeling the pain medication starting to take effect.

"Sammy."

"Ya."

"Salt the doors before you go. Oh, remember the pie. Six." he said smiling.

Sam salted the windows and the doors. He looked at his sleeping brother, and decided to tuck his gun under the pillow where it belonged. Just to be sure he pulled back the rug and drew a devils trap, then another on the ceiling over the bathroom window.

Heading out the door quietly, he felt relief watch over him. Dean was back, he was going to be OK. They were good.

He was on guard again, that thing wouldn't get another shot at his brother. He'd make sure of it.