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The Leaky Tap.

Written by Fletty.

Drip, Drip-Drip, Drip…Drip…

The constant dripping was starting to annoy him. No, not just starting. It'd been ticking him off now for what seemed like forever. But according to his watch, he'd only been stuck in here listening to it for about six hours now. Listening to it was almost worse than when Dean had first awoken in here with his booming headache.

Dean stood up and again started kicking furiously at the door. And once again, he gave up in frustration. Steel bars would do that to you.

"Hello?" he yelled. "Is someone there? Sammy! Can you hear me?" He waited a moment then hit the door once again in frustrated anger. "Come on! What am I here for?"

Dean felt helpless. Definitely bored, but he couldn't handle being helpless. He looked around him, again searching for something that wasn't there. Looking for something that he could possibly use to help him make his escape. But there was nothing.

"Help! Can anyone hear me? Sam!" Only silence greeted him in return. Silence besides the continuous dripping.

He sank to the ground feeling defeated for now. He turned and leaned against the cold bars of his cell. His head was jumbled with thoughts.

Where was Sam? Was he okay? Was he safe? Was he even still alive? Dean wished terribly that Sam was out there now, looking for his older brother. But somehow, he knew that he wasn't.

Sam had been badly hurt. So was he being held captive too? Was he here in the same building? But wait a second… Where was here? How did Dean even get here?

Dean couldn't really remember.

Drip…Drip-Drip…Drip…

He was locked in a make-shift cell, in what appeared to be a small basement. The surrounding walls and floor were dark coloured bricks, and he couldn't see any windows.

There were stairs on the far side of the room leading upwards, but he couldn't see the door at the top. There was an overturned bucket against the wall nearest to the stairs and a tiny sink was stuck to the side wall. Dean could see his jacket lying on the floor next to the bucket. But that was it.

There was no other furniture.

Oh, if only he had his jacket! He had paperclips in his jacket pocket, but without them he couldn't pick the lock. Dean stared across at it, concentrating really hard on the jacket in the hopes that maybe it would move towards him. Wishful thinking.

A single light hung from the far side of the room, thrusting shadows into the far corners of the room closer to Dean, teasing him. The darkness was playing tricks on him.

When he was younger, he used to be brave for Sam against the dark, but he'd always been slightly afraid. He knew what hid in the shadows.

That incessant dripping was still there! He began to lightly pound the back of his head against the bars in time to the drips.

He was starting to go crazy, stuck in this tiny room. The mental fatigue was also beginning to hit him painfully. What with worrying about Sam, their safety and Dean's captors. What were they going to do with him?

Dean's head hurt. He rested his head gently in his hands, giving him small relief from the pain. But Dean's head still assaulted him with out-of-control thoughts.

Who was, they, anyway? Was Dean even dealing with the supernatural here? Somehow Dean doubted that. But then, why would someone take him?

Dean sighed. Sammy. He tightly clenched his fists together. He really hoped that Sam was okay.

Oh, he was gonna hurt whoever put him in here!

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the ringing sounds in his ears by trying to think back to what had happened before.

He'd woken up in here. The last thing he could remember was being with Sam, standing outside the motel they were currently staying at. They'd been in town for a rogue spirit that had taken to picking on little boys, tormenting them as they were walking home from school. It'd taken a few days to locate the grave, but they'd finally been able to salt and burn the damn thing. They'd gone to their usual diner for an early meal, then Sam had driven them both back to the motel for some well-earned sleep before they moved on.

It was then that things started to go fuzzy…

"You shouldn't have provoked her."

"Why not? Come on Sam; admit it, that kid Tony had it rough."

"How so?"

"Being haunted by the girl-next-door? That's just stupid!"

"It wasn't his fault that she chose him to follow home that day, Dean!"

"Yeah, but it's funny!"

Sam grinned at his brother as he pulled up in front of their motel room and was first to get out and walk towards their front door. Dean opened the passenger car door, still chuckling at the thought of a 16-yr-old boy being stalked by a 12-yr-old dead girl.

As soon as Dean stood up, he knew that something was wrong. His vision suddenly went blurry, and he felt himself walk around like a drunken man. As Sam was unlocking the front door, Dean was several feet behind him.

"S-Sam?" he slurred slowly, the dizziness starting to make him feel uneasy.

Sam turned around, confusion written on his face as he watched his brother slowly stumble towards him.

From his new, intoxicated state, Dean suddenly saw movement from inside the apartment.

"SAM!" he shouted, but it was too late. A loud, resounding thud could be heard as a baseball bat came swinging down. Sam was hit hard on the back of the head. Blood could be seen seeping steadily through his dark hair. As Dean stared to where Sam lay sprawled on the ground, Dean's body suddenly felt so heavy he had to lean on the car for support.

His world spun around him.

He knew that he needed to get to his brother, to check that he was alright, but his brain was giving orders to an almost non-responsive body. He seemed to move so slowly!

He didn't understand what was going on.

Although he hadn't seen anyone come out of the apartment, he suddenly heard rapid footsteps on the gravel behind him. He turned and swung wildly, but before he could get his sighting focused, he saw bright stars as something hard came down upon his head.

Then all Dean saw was black.

Drip…Drip…

Dean's head was foggy; this continuous tap was beginning to consume him. The tiny noise was maddening! Pounding into his head like a drummer's beat just before a hanging. Dean felt totally spent. All he wanted to do was sleep. Then…

A sound! Dean froze, listening. The creak of a door opening! The echo of footsteps reverberated down to Dean's welcome ears as someone stalked down the stairs.

Dean bounded to his feet; he was wide-awake now. He waited impatiently for them to reach the bottom of the stairs. He really wanted to know who held him hostage. He really needed to know what had happened to Sam. If Sam had been seriously injured, then there was gonna be a beating!

His breath coming light and quick in the stuffy basement, he watched as… a man and woman came striding around the corner. The man stood facing Dean in his cage, while the woman silently sat down behind him on the overturned bucket.

Dean focused on the male. He wasn't even a big man. He had a receding hairline and was slightly overweight. His hands were clasped behind him.

How on earth did these two capture Dean? And manage to hurt Sam? It was preposterous!

Dean stared murderously at the little man.

"Who are you? Where's my brother?" he demanded.

The man smirked. "You needn't worry about him anymore."

Sudden fear sparked up inside Dean. "What have you done with him? I swear, if you hurt him…"

"I'm not here to answer your questions. You're here to answer mine."

"Then get to the point! Why am I here?"

The man hesitated then looked intently at the young man standing defiantly in the cage. "Why did you kill her?"

Dean was mystified. "What?"

"You heard me!"

"Yeah, but I'm having trouble believing ya! I haven't killed anyone!"

"We saw you! You killed our baby girl!"

Slight recognition came across Dean's face. He lowered his voice and said calmly, "I didn't kill her."

"We saw you standing at her gravesite! We watched you burn her!" Furiously, the short man revealed what he'd been holding behind him.

A Cattle prod.

"Were you her parents? Her father?" Dean asked, eyeing the electric stick apprehensively.

"Of course I bloody well was!" The man cried and waved the stick menacingly towards Dean. "Why did you kill her?"

"I didn't kill her. I sent her away. She was terrorizing the neighbourhood." Dean spoke in a pain-staking, calm manner.

"You should have left well-enough alone!"

"I'm sorry for your loss, but there was nothing I could do!"

"You killed my baby girl!"

Dean sparked up. "Listen, I didn't bloody kill her! In case you hadn't noticed, she was already dead!"

The man had been marching back and forth, staring at Dean like he was a lamb to the slaughter, but then all of a sudden he lurched forward. The prong was shoved through the bars of the tiny cage. Dean tried to back away, but in such a minute area it was hard to avoid.

"Arrgh!" His painful screams filled the small room, almost resonating off the walls. His whole body was on fire! He fell to the floor, the prod still attacking him at his side. His eyesight wavering, he tried to stay conscious, to come to terms with the pain, when it suddenly stopped. He lay exhausted for a few seconds.

His whole body tingled, but he wanted to face both the man and his possible, impending death, in the eye again. With enormous effort, he struggled onto his knees, lifting his head up to look at the man.

But instead, his eyes landed on the female. She was the one now standing over him, holding the prong.

He involuntarily flinched as she moved.

Dean didn't really think he could cope with that sort of pain again.

But instead she threw the rod to one side of the room and knelt down beside him, still protected from Dean by the cell-room bars. Dean looked around quickly and saw the man standing to the side behind her, his hand lightly rubbing the side of his face painfully.

She must've slapped him, Dean realized with grim pleasure.

"Are you alright?" she asked him worriedly.

Dean laughed painfully, clutching his stomach. "No!"

"I'm sorry." She apologized.

Dean paused. "For what?"

"…For drugging you."

Dean looked at her. Then it dawned on him.

"You were the waitress."

"Yes," she replied.

"I gave you a tip!" Dean grimaced.

She stared at him, not saying anything.

"Well, I'll certainly be wanting my money back!" he joked.

"Who are you?" she flatly asked.

"Name's Dean… where's Sam?"

"Why did you do that to Caitlyn? She didn't do anything," the lady stated.

"Wrong. She was petrifying all the small boys around town."

"So you took away her life?"

Dean shook his head, strength slowly returning to him now that the shakes were disappearing. "Her life was already gone. I just sent her to the other side."

"But why?"

"...Because it's my job." Dean sat down and leant against the wall of his cage, happy to talk for once if it meant he didn't get the cattle stick prodded at him again.

A tear rolled down the lady's cheek. "We didn't want you to. We were happy to still have her in some way."

Dean brushed his hands together to get rid of the dust covering them.

He sighed heavily. Seriously, where was Sam when you needed him to talk them out of something?

Dean frowned, "Lady, whatever you're name is…"

"Karen."

"…okay, Karen. I don't know how else to say this, but we were just trying to help. Both her and the people she was harassing. A spirit with… unfinished business can sometimes spend all eternity here. Now you need time to grieve, to heal from Caitlyn's death, but her spirit being here is preventing you from doing that. And I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to do that to either myself, or my family. It's not fair on anyone. It'd just lead to a lot of counselling later on in life."

Dean gave a small grin. "We just thought we'd save you the expense bills. Besides, a memory of a ghost that you can't touch, or comfort is no proper way to remember the vibrant, young girl that I'm sure Caitlyn was."

Karen sniffed loudly and looked down at the floor as she thought about it, her cheeks going red with emotion.

"...You're right," she said softly.

"What?" the man behind her cried. "Karen! Pull yourself together! You're talking about our Caitlyn!"

"Geoff! I know I am! God, you really think I forgot? We had Caitlyn in our lives for twelve years; twelve beautiful years. Yes, it was hard when they took her away from us! But then to only see her in a form that other people don't even believe in for three whole years? Do you know how hard it is to not talk to someone about something Caitlyn said just recently? Besides our hearts, which were broken long ago; it's only been thin air; that's all that she's been filling for us lately, Geoff!"

Tears were now streaming down Karen's face as she looked up, begging to her husband. "Please, how long has it been since you thought of her as she once was, as compared to how she's been? For me personally, it's been too long. I need to move on with my life. We need to. I'm sure that Caitlyn would have wanted us to…"

She suddenly broke down in tears, curling into herself as she knelt on the floor. She looked broken; miserable.

Geoff looked around, hopelessly lost for a second, then strode over to his wife and knelt down, bringing her up for a tight hug.

Dean stood, silently watching them for a minute, allowing them to slowly pull themselves back together. Although secretly touched at this family's connection with each other, he still badly wanted his Sammy back.

At the thought of Sammy, he couldn't wait any longer. He made his presence known, talking loudly over their tears.

"Now that this issue's been dealt with, how about the more pressing ones of 'where is my brother' and 'what happens to us now'?"

Geoff quickly glanced at Dean then looked down at his wife, who quietly nodded. Geoff stood up and walked to the door of the cage, pulling out a few keys from his pocket as he went.

"We're sorry for what we did." He unlocked the door and dragged it open, letting Dean walk out. He handed Dean the keys.

"Your brother's in the attic. He was hurt briefly, but he should be alright."

"Thanks," Dean said as he snatched up his jacket and walked towards the stairs. He paused. "Are you going to be alright?" he asked them.

"Not just yet, but maybe in time…" Geoff said.

"Right." Dean stood there. Although he wanted nothing more than to just leave this house, he felt uncomfortable about leaving them like this without offering them something.

Drip, Drip…Drip-

Dean spied the dripping sink to his left, and happily reached over, switching it off to finally hear its last drip. He turned to the girl's parents.

"Y'know, you really should get this tap looked at."

Geoff just looked at him a moment and nodded briefly before going back to his wife, comforting each other with their loss.

Dean turned and headed up the stairs. Reaching the ground level of the house he breathed in fresh air for a second before racing up the next two flights of stairs. Arriving at the attic door and finding it locked, he briefly pounded on the door.

"Sam!" he yelled as he jammed a key into the lock. It didn't work. Dean tried another.

Success!

He shoved open the door to see Sam, locked in a similar-looking cage to Dean's, laying face-down on the floor of the attic. He had a roughly-made bandage wrapped tight around his head.

"Sam!" Dean yelled again, racing to the door of the cage. He banged on the door to try and wake his only sibling.

The first key he tried opened the cell-door. Dean yanked it open and rushed in, kneeling beside Sam.

"Sammy! Come on, Sammy, wake up!" Dean called again. He shook him slightly. As he rolled his brother over gently onto his back, Sam stirred and opened his eyes.

"Dean?" he asked groggily. "What happened? Where've you been?"

"Waiting to see you!" Relief washed over Dean, as he slowly helped his brother sit up. As Dean briefly inspected Sam's head, he softly whistled. "Damn. Did they hurt you anywhere else?"

Sam shook his head then stopped quickly when he remembered it hurt.

"Where's the couple?" Sam asked as he realized where he still was.

"Downstairs," Dean said, helping Sam to his feet.

"Come on, Sammy, let's just go."

Looping his arm around his brother, he slowly helped Sam down the stairs. He tried to avoid putting strain on his injured side. He could still feel the lasting effects of burning pain. Nowhere near as intense, but still painful.

"Y'know, Sammy, people really need to look after cows better," Dean commented.

"Huh? Why? What happened to you?" Sam asked.

Dean grinned. "Not much. I got kinda held up."

Even now, years later, Dean was still showing false bravado towards his younger brother, always protecting him when it was needed.

Reaching the front door he pulled it open and with Sam leaning heavily on him, they limped outside. There they saw Dean's car parked neatly in the driveway.

"Oh…My…God… They drove MY CAR?!!" Dean was furious.

Sam grimaced, holding his head in pain. "Please Dean, can I hear you rant about this some other time?"

Dean glanced at him. He really did seem quite pale. "Yeah. Sure, Sammy. Stay right here. Lean against this post. I'll just be a second."

Once Dean had made sure that Sam wasn't gonna fall over, he turned and raced back inside. There, on the telephone counter next to the front door, in easy sight, were his keys. He snatched them up, swearing furiously at the couple in his head. How dare they? Couldn't they use their own damn vehicle?

As he turned to leave, he spied a wallet also lying on the counter.

It can't hurt to at least take my tip back," he argued. I was in no way happy with their service today! He paused a moment, looking at the cash left inside. Hmm…Maybe for our meals, too!

Several minutes later, the two boys were back on the road, heading towards their motel once again. They both decided to quickly empty out their room, grab some take away, and leave town. They'd both suddenly had enough of this place.

They could handle sleeping in the car.

Hey guys!! Hoped you liked my first finished Supernatural fanfiction! Seriously, I was out drinking with mates last night, and went to the bathroom. As you guessed it, there was a leaky tap! I was watching it for about 30 seconds n I got the idea for this story! I'm pretty pleased with it! I stayed up all night writing it! And I mean, all night! Hopefully I'll be writing more soon!

A couple of comments on my story, though. I seriously considered having Dean just say, plainly, "I'm sorry," as he was leaving the basement. But I thought that it was kinda out of character for him and the leaking tap comment sounded much funnier.

Also, with Dean stealing, he only took what was owed! I mean, come on, they DROVE his car!! And besides, it's not as if he hasn't stolen before. He just hasn't stolen directly from someone's wallet before! (That I know of!) I did consider writing another chapter in Sam's point of view, but we'll see how many reviews I get requesting it first, hey? Hee, hee!

Anyway, thanx for reading, and I would seriously love you if you left me a review!! Any review!! But just leave one!

Luv, Fletty!