Pure

During 4.21 -When The Levee Breaks, spoilers up to there... AU in which Castiel cannot bust Sam out of the panic room, and Bobby comes with a plan B for Sam's addiction… includes blood-thirsty Sam, ever-giving Dean and some strong Hoodoo magic. Rated M for the language and eventual slash, incest, non-con… the whole nine yard.

A/N: 4.21 was one of the saddest episode for me, I cannot handle it when the brothers are so harsh to each other. I decided to write my own version; but it somehow ended up even harsher than the canon! I am afraid angst is in the boys' destiny =(

Special thanks to OnlyWishedYouKnew, for super-fast betaing.

Chapter1- Bleeding me

Sam's screams faded long ago but unfortunately it was not the good sign Dean was waiting for. Sam was losing his connection with this world, with his life. He was slipping into a deep coma from which, Dean was afraid, he might not wake up. His addiction was stronger than they anticipated and Dean was now seriously considering Bobby's warnings that his brother might not ditch this addiction without losing his life.

After they had caught Cass' treachery and stopped him before he could let Sam free, Dean was more hopeful; thinking –no, praying- that their luck finally turned. However, his brother's torment was not getting any less, but only more. Dean knew he could not let him die like this, regardless of what he had said earlier, yet did not know how he could prevent it. He was seriously thinking about aborting this cold turkey detoxification when Bobby walked in the room, in a strangely good mood:

"I knew it!" He was grinning like a kid in the candy store.

"What's that?" Dean let a beam of hope lurk in him.

"I finally found a healer who might help Sam" Bobby explained, "A Hoodoo priestess, she is THE top dog when it comes to cleansing casts."

"Are we gonna ask help from a witch now?"

"Oh don't be such a dick! She ain't no witch, she is a healer. Apparently she helped many addicts all over the country and, most importantly, right now she is only 2 hours away, in an addiction clinic."

"So you are saying that the demon blood is in the renewed NA substances list?" Dean was skeptic; he was tired of running after false hopes.

"Stop whining and go get her now!" Bobby demanded. He was aware of Dean's pain but his own was no different. He hated seeing the youngest Winchester in a coma which was induced by their so called treatment. Sam was lying unconscious almost a week now and every time he looked at him, Bobby saw that shy 4 years old boy; clenched to his brother when the first time John had brought them to him. He could still picture the Sam's –blond back then- head buried in books half his size… the smile radiating from his cute face when he had solved a puzzle… the sorrow he could not conceal when his father and big brother had left him for yet another hunt… Bobby loved Sam more than he could admit, and there was no way he would let him die. No matter what Dean had said.

Bobby squeezed the older brother's shoulder with understanding. Dean got the address and left the house without saying another word. Even if it was a false hope, he needed to get away from the house and 4 hours' drive in his baby is the best he could get right now.

xxx

"Fucking garrulous bitch!" Dean grumbled driving back. He had had to spend more than an hour trying to explain their problem to the old witch. For some reason Bobby had forgotten(!) to mention the language barrier. The old lady was speaking a language Dean was not aware of its existence and her translator/granddaughter was away for a concert in Minneapolis. After the initial trial –and severe failures- to describe the demon-blood addiction, Dean had given up explaining the problem. Luckily, the witch was more into the money than the addiction type she was supposed to cure, and had accepted to come with him. Everything had been alright till she had started matchmaking for her granddaughter with her very, very limited English. She did not stop even for a whole minute during the 2 hours' drive which was quite surprising since her vocabulary contained less than 100 words at max! She kept talking about her precious little granddaughter while shoving her pictures in front of Dean's eyes, not considering the little technicality that a driver was supposed to see the road. Dean hated witches.

"Here you are! What took you so long?" Bobby asked opening the door. He was going to tease Dean a bit longer but the "I'm so pissed off!" expression on the young man's face stopped him.

"I hope you can speak healer, Bobby. Otherwise we have to wait till the little princess is back from her precious concert."

"I can't speak Yoruba either." said Bobby, shrugging his shoulder. "But don't think we are gonna have a chat with her. We are going to show her Sam, and let her do her mojo."

"Hope you are right" Dean said while getting a cold beer from the fridge. He really needed one.

xxx

It turned out that Bobby was right. After seeing Sam -and way too much touching, in Dean's book- the healer immediately started her demands. She was good on explaining her needs in spite of her lack of vocabulary. Where the hand gestures were not enough, she drew crude cartoons to make her demands clear. Luckily most of the ingredients she required were with her; in those heavy bags that Dean had to carry in and out of Impala while cursing at their weight. After preparing some mixtures with the herbs she asked them to build a fire in Bobby's yard.

"Isn't she supposed to do, I don't know, stuff to Sam? What is she doing here in the yard?" Dean asked; he did not trust witches.

"You got me" replied Bobby, "all we can do now is pray she can do it right." He understood Dean's doubts; but Bobby needed this hope… their only hope, Sam's only hope.

The old woman was now in a trance; staring right into the flames. Her chanting turned into a tribal song and she was rocking side to side with its rhythm. Every now and again, the fire was bursting into flames; but she was sitting there indifferently as if in an important conversation. After a while she got up, put out the fire, walked towards Bobby and with her broken English said:

"Horry!"

"Hurry what?" Dean jumped in, "What happened?"

"Time no much…no much… horry…"

"OK" Bobby intervened, "Tell us what to do."

The healer tried to explain:

"I make mediciony. You find blad. Horry!"

"That's quite explanatory!" Dean mocked despite Bobby's disapproval.

"You mean blood? What blood? Sheep, cow, cat…" Bobby asked.

"No, no shep. Kid bload. You find kid, I make mediciony"

"Whoa, lady! I am not gonna let you bleed a kid for your witchcraft." Dean was getting angry. He knew trusting a witch was a bad idea from the beginning. He repeated himself using simple words so that she too can understand:

"No kid blood. No kid!"

The healer shook her shoulder indifferently, and murmured:

"Horry… no time."

"Are grownups not OK?" Bobby asked. After using both his arms to describe a kid and a grown up man, the healer finally understood their concern:

"Cleen bload OK. Puere bload. Kid bload, puere." She summarized her concerns.

"Huh, if all she needs was clean blood, why was she asking for kid's blood? I am telling you these witches are not trustworthy Bobby. The only thing she need is some freaking blood not from a demon but she…" The healer cut Dean's words in panic:

"No deemon! No deemon! Cleen bload, puere!" she kept yelling. "Horry."

"OK, OK freaking witch. We got it, no demon blood, but clean, pure human blood." She left them where they are and walked toward the house as fast as her old legs allowed. Bobby shared a nervous look with Dean and asked:

"You know, maybe we should …"

"You are not seriously thinking of giving Sam a boy to bleed, right? Right!" Dean was getting really annoyed. "I prefer him to suck that fucking demon whore instead."

"No, of course I am not thinking of giving him a kid. What do you think I am? I was going to suggest angel blood. She said clean blood and ..."

"Angels… seriously? Those dicks? Do you really consider them clean?"

"We can ask Anna. She is, well… different?"

"No Bobby…! Never…! I don't want Sammy to get tainted with another fucking creature. What the witch needs is pure human blood, no demon, no magical shit in it. I will give my blood, being next of kin that's the only meaningful thing to do."

"Yeah. You are right, I guess." Bobby agreed. "Let's check what she needs for the medicine. Apparently we don't have much time."

"When did we have plenty of time?" Dean grumbled while walking after Bobby.

xxx

At the time she was done with the preparations, the healer looked like a walking corpse. Dean could never imagine how much energy –OK, not witches- healers put into their spells. It took her the whole night to prepare a powder mix, with constant chanting and crazy spells. Now she was trying to explain how to use it to Bobby using her childish drawings. Bobby made a gesture to Dean when they were done. She was still murmuring something about 'hurrying up' and 'clean blood' but Bobby stopped her; making her understand that everything was under control. She quit talking but Dean could not decide whether it was because she finally got what Bobby said or because she was so beaten up that could not really argue any longer. Dean tried to help her to go to her bed by holding her arm, but realized the old woman did not have enough energy to even lift her foot. He, then, just got her into his arms as if she was an oversized baby and carried her up to her room. She was already asleep when he put the blanket on her.

When Dean was back downstairs, Bobby was waiting for him with the healing powder on his hands.

"Are you sure about this Dean?" he asked one last time.

"What kind of a question is that? Of course I am sure!"

"The thing is… he is supposed to drink it directly from your body… suck your blood from your flesh." Bobby explained; his discomfort was clearly visible.

"Like a freaking vampire, huh?" Dean's eyes sulked accompanying a bitter smile. Why did his baby brother always end up with freaks, all the time? Even saving him was freaky! "Like a fucking vampire!" he repeated quietly. But he was not going to turn back now. "I am not gonna let him do this thing to anyone else. And I am sure not gonna let him die like this." His voice was determined.

"OK. The main idea is -if I understand it correctly- that we cut you enough to bleed, sprinkle this powder on the cut and let Sammy drink as much as he can. The main thing is to keep feeding him as much as he wants." He gave a concerned look at Dean. "Ready?"

Dean just nodded and walked to the panic-room, to his brother. He cut a slit on his arm, deep enough so that his blood immediately pooled around the cut. Bobby sprinkled the healing powder on the wound.

"Damn!" Dean jerked with the unexpected pain; the powder burned his flesh like acid salts. "This shit burns like hell!"

"Stop bitching like an old lady" mocked Bobby; a failed attempt to lighten the mood in the room.

"Bobby…" He did not know how to say. "Can you please… not watch?" Dean asked his eyes on the floor. Bobby understood. He was not too keen to see the boy sucking his brother's blood anyway.

"I'll be right outside. Just call me if you need anything."

After Bobby had left the room, Dean got close to his brother. Sam was lying still, soaked in his sweat, barely breathing. A pain, much sharper than the one on his arm, filled his heart. His Sammy was dying...

"Everything is going to be all right little brother." He pleaded, trying to convince himself rather than Sam. He brought his arm close to his brother's mouth and asked gently, "Come on Sammy; hope you'll like it." Dean smeared his blood over Sam's mouth. For a while nothing changed in Sam's condition, but gradually he started to show some signs that he was alive. He slightly opened his mouth, searching for more blood and slowly sucked his brother's arm. With every drop he swallowed, Sam appeared to have more energy. After a little while, he was sucking so hard that Dean felt his flesh was tearing out, being pulled into the powerful mouth. His cut was throbbing with pain and definitely swollen big time with the persistent pressure Sam kept applying. Suddenly, he felt Sam's tongue poking into his open wound, searching for more blood. The pain was getting heavier than Dean could handle.

"Easy Sammy, easy boy…" he begged. But Sam's tongue kept pushing into the violated cut, dragging the burning powder deep into his already abused flesh, elevating Dean's torment. Sam was devouring him with a great appetite; but Dean could not pull his arm back. He just could not take away the only thing that made his brother look alive for more than a week. He gritted his teeth and sucked it in, as a good soldier. All of a sudden, Sam stopped sucking. Dean realized in horror that his brother could not breathe; Sam's mouth was filled with some dark and gooey liquid. He was desperately trying to cough to get rid of it. Dean panicked. He needed to lift his brother up so that Sam could spew the goo, but Sam's arms were fastened to the bed and were not allowing him to rise.

"Bobby, Bobby!" he cried in panic while trying to get his brother free. Bobby stormed into the room and, without losing time he started working on Sam's other arm. They raised Sam in seconds. The black goo was now coming from the young man's nose as well as his mouth, making it impossible for him to inhale some air.

"Come on Sammy, you can do this. Come on boy… my boy… Sammy, I got you Sammy, I got you" Dean was frantic, tapping his brother's back to help him cough, holding him still through the painful spasms. After minutes of struggle finally Sam caught his breath, spat every last bit of the goo out and fell down to the bed like a stone. He was so quiet that for a moment Dean thought he lost his brother. But Bobby felt his pulse:

"He is still with us boy. Don't worry."

"What the hell was that Bobby? What the hell! He was choking on my blood?"

"I don't think this mess is your blood boy." Bobby explained while poking the goo on the floor. "I think your blood made his body really uncomfortable for the demon bitch's stuff." He squeezed Dean's arm to offer some comfort. "He'll go through this Dean. He is a strong young man."

Dean looked at his worn-out brother. He nodded in disbelief. Sam looked even worse than he had been before the blood treatment.

"Come on boy, let's tend your wound. It looks terrible." Dean looked at his arm; the slit he had cut was now almost twice in size, swollen and completely discolored.

"Yeah, let's do it."

Bobby brought his first aid kit, cleaned and bandaged Dean's arm. Before they were finished, they heard Sam's whimper.

"Sammy" Dean jumped next to his brother, removed his wet hair from his face. "I am here Sammy." But Sam could not answer.

"He needs more Bobby!" Dean yelled, and without losing any time cut a –bigger this time- slit on his right arm.

"Maybe we should take turns…?" Bobby was asking; then realized Dean was already over with it. He did not continue the argument; he knew that Dean would never allow anyone to do this other than himself. Dean did not bother to answer; his concentration was focused only on his brother.

"Thanks Bobby. I'll let you know if I need anything." Dean managed to say between his teeth, when Bobby was done sprinkling the powder. The fucking thing was burning crazy.

As soon as Bobby left the room, Dean put his arm on his brother's mouth, letting his blood wet Sam's dry lips one more time. After tasting the first drop, Sam caught his brother's bleeding flesh and immediately started sucking as if he was dying of thirst. Dean was ready for the pain from the last experience, but apparently Sam's appetite grew since then. He was almost chewing his brother's arm to increase the blood flow using his lips, tongue, teeth, and kept exploiting Dean's already aching flesh.

"Easy Sam… Sammy, easy man! Easy Sam…" Dean was trying to reach his brother to let him realize the situation he was in, but his words were not reaching his Sammy.

"Damn it Sam!" Dean screamed when Sam sunk his teeth into the wound while pressing Dean's arm onto his mouth with both of his -now free- hands. Bobby called from outside with concern:

"Is everything all right Dean?"

"Yeah… I'm good" Dean managed to communicate. The throbbing sensation in his arm was getting worse every second and Dean did not know how much longer he could allow his brother to abuse him like this. But before long, Sam was in another coughing span, spitting black goo.

After it was over Dean helped Sam to lie down. His brother was gone again. Sweat, blood and the dark smudges of the goo were covering his pretty face and hair; making him look even weaker than he actually was. Dean cleaned his brother's face gently; caressed the persistent hair to unveil the tired face and put a very gentle kiss on his forehead.

"We have to take care of that arm boy." Bobby walked in the room pointing Dean's abused arm, "Otherwise it might go south." Dean only nodded without removing his gaze from his brother's face.

"Feel so guilty Bobby…" Dean finally broke the silence. Bobby gave him a curious look while patching the wound.

"I was angry at him because he was fooling around with a demon. But I am such a hypocrite, Bobby! This is what we all did; his family, the 'bright(!)' examples in front of him. It started with mom, then dad and I continued the family legacy of dealing with demons. But when he went after our footsteps, I made him feel like he is the freak!"

"Come on Dean," Bobby intervened "he hooked up on demon blood, boy. It ain't the same thing."

"Yeah, as if it is way worse than selling his soul!" Dean bawled; but realized his mistake right away. "Sorry I did not mean to yell at you. It's just… I'm angry at myself. I sold my soul, Bobby… I left my brother here alone, with the horrible guilt to carry -I know that guilt, I know it very well. Not to mention I started the freaking seal-breaking frenzy while I was down there… and now I am getting angry at my brother because of what? He hooked up to demon blood instead of blue label."

"This was not on you Dean. He is a grown man; he can make his own decision. It was HIS choice."

"Yes, of course… Other than the fact that when he was just a baby, a fucking demon got into his nursery and infected him with his damn blood… yeah, it was all his choice alright."

Bobby did not answer. Although he had not seen what exactly was going on here while he was waiting outside, he had a pretty good guess. And he was sure that the image of his blood-sucking brother was playing numbers on Dean's mood right now.

During the day Sam went through the feeding/coughing cycle 4 more times. Dean's arms were covered with knife cuts and abused tissue. But he was happy since Sam clearly looked better. The amount of dark liquid coming out of him was getting less and less with each feeding cycle. And also during the last feeding, Dean's pleadings must have reached to Sam's ears since he actually had gone easy on his brother.

Dean was tired beyond measure; he was drained both physically and emotionally. Bobby had brought him some food and tons of juice so that he can feed between the treatments; however the constant smell of blood in the room was not letting him indulge the nutrients. He lay next to his brother, ready for the next sign to cut himself and bleed into his mouth. But sleep gradually took him into its soothing arms. It was, for a change, a dreamless sleep.

TBC…