Title: Divided We Stand

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: A not-so-simple salt and burn reminds the Winchester brothers that they always work better when they watch each other's backs; something they've both been forgetting lately. Post 8x08 "Hunteri Heroici" hurt/comfort!Sam/Dean

Author's Note: A note to reviewers: If you don't log in, I can't respond to you. Lol And no, to answer "Curious" whoever you are, I haven't changed my writing style. Not that I'm aware of, other than leading off with angst and taking a pot shot at Dean first for a change but I'm fixing that. *snort*

Beta'd by the Always Awesome JaniceC678 - Friend and Muse's co-conspirator

**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~

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"Ow." Sam ran a hand through his hair, dislodging more dust and sand and set himself coughing again until it settled. He looked around curiously and found himself lying in the narrow space between two large, old metal pipes. He checked his watch, having to blink to clear his vision, and stared to find he'd been out cold for over an hour.

"Ok, not good," he grumbled and ran a hand over the back of his head. He hissed out a breath as his fingers brushed over a sizeable bump. It brought with it a wave of nausea that left him hunched over and breathing through his nose in an effort to not give in. He didn't even want to imagine what the smell would be like in the small space. When his stomach finally stopped attempting a revolt, he carefully pulled his legs under him and tried to stand. Sam used the pipes on either side of him for leverage as his head swam dizzily and it took several moments to realize that he could hear a strange sound coming from above him. Sand began to sluice down into the hole and Sam looked up as a dark shadow appeared at the edge to loom over him.

"Oh, crap."

Chapter 3

Sam dropped back to his knees and tried to get his gun out. His arm tangled with the bag, he lost his balance and landed back on his backside and then looked up as a strange chittering sound came down to him. A moment later, the shadow jumped from the ledge to land between Sam's spread legs with a thump.

"Holy…crap," Sam said in surprise and stared at the large river otter that was now staring back up at him. He grinned and then laughed, letting go of his gun to look at the creature. "You're Sutro Sam, aren't you?" Sam had done his research, including finding many mentions of a river otter that had adopted the Sutro baths as its home and was often spotted in and around them by visitors. Someone had named it 'Sam' and he had opted to not tell Dean about it, imagining the teasing he would have received. "Uh…hi. It's your fault I'm down here, you know."

The dark head tilted, gleaming wetly in the sun from above and blinked black eyes at him.

Sam chuckled. "Ok, so I wasn't exactly graceful about it. Right; and…I'm talking to an otter. So, not concussed at all then." Sam snorted softly and got back to his feet. He wobbled and looked up. The roof of the room was just above his head. He took hold of the edge of the hole and had to stagger out of the way when more of the ground above crumbled down in on top of him.

"Dammit," Sam groaned and then he looked down in surprise when Sutro Sam darted over to rub against his leg. The otter peered up at him and then ran over the rubble and under one of the large pipes. Sam snorted, stared, and then shook his head when the otter's head popped back out to look at him and then scampered under the pipe again. "Seriously?" Sam walked unsteadily over and then got down on his hands and knees to look underneath. "You're gonna 'Lassie' me outta here?"

Sam chuckled as he bent and had to get practically on his belly, but he managed to wiggle under the pipe and out the other side. He pulled his bag around and fished inside it for the flashlight, pulled it out, and flicked it on. "I am never telling Dean about this. Ever."

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Dean drove slowly past the museum with a wary eye on the police cars and the ambulance out front. Lisa had obviously been found and he wished he could tell someone how she'd died, but of course, all that would get him was a prison sentence, more than likely. He drove the Impala around and behind the building, parking beyond a stand of dumpsters to hide the car. He climbed out and shouldered his bag as he looked up the fire escape on the back of the building. He knew the window up there led right into the storeroom and hoped all the excitement had moved away by now. He didn't want anyone else to end up like Lisa, not if he could help.

He jumped the few feet up to the bottom of the fire escape and quickly climbed to the top to crouch by the window. Dean looked in and scowled. The window was to the side of the store- room and he couldn't see anything but a wall of shelves in his way.

"Dammit," he sighed and eased the window open, surprised to not find it locked. Dean climbed through the window to the top of a sturdy shelf just under it and listened. There was nothing. If the police had been in the room, they'd left and all was silent. He climbed down the shelf and dropped to the floor softly and then it struck him that he couldn't just blow away the spirit if it manifested. The police and anyone else still in the building would hear.

"Son of a bitch," Dean swore softly. He considered climbing back out and then remembered one of the aisles they'd passed in the store room earlier. He smirked and started quickly up the center aisle; keeping his ears tuned to the doors at the far end while he reached into his pocket and turned his EMF meter on. "Just give me thirty seconds you asshole," Dean whispered as he jogged down the aisle toward the front. The weapons that had been thrown at them earlier still lay on the floor only now they sported little yellow, numbered markers. Crime scene photos, Dean surmised. It took a large effort on his part not to open those doors and look around, see if Lisa had been taken care of. Dean shook his head and looked down an aisle on his left with a smile.

Hanging on one wall of the aisle was a display of turn of the century fireplace tools; all iron. Dean grabbed one of the pokers just as the EMF in his pocket began to whine and he narrowed his eyes, going back to the aisle. "Alright, you son of a bitch. Let's dance."

Dean figured the spirit had to know who he was by now. This would make the ninth time he and Sam had found some of his bones and torched them. He was worried about Sam and had to push that thought away as the meter reached a fever pitch. At least if the ghost was here trying to kill him, it wasn't off trying to kill Sam, and in Dean's mind, that was all that mattered. Dean turned down the aisle holding the box with Magnus Dunlevy's hands. He tossed his bag to the table and then turned to pull the wooden box from its home. He let it hit the table with a thump and felt the air around him become frigid and his breath puffed out in front of his face.

He took hold of the small lock on the front of the box and tore it loose. It was more for show than actual security, and he tossed the lid open. Dean grabbed the salt out of his bag and upended it over the skeletal hands. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine and turned instinctively, swinging the antique iron poker. Magnus' spirit stood behind him. He was Dean's height, with a head of unruly black hair and piercing blue eyes that glared death at him as Dean swung. The iron rod swept through the center of his chest, dispersing the ghost with a dull roar, at least for the moment.

"Suck it, asshole," Dean growled and turned back to the box. He poured the last of the salt on the bones and then dug into the bag for the lighter fluid. There was a rattle from the box and Dean looked over at it. "Crap!" he shouted in surprise as one of the articulated hands flew out of the box and bony fingers clamped around his throat. Dean staggered back and banged into the shelves behind him while the fingers dug into his neck and tried to strangle him.

Dean dug his fingers under the bones and pried the hand loose. He sucked in a breath and slammed it back into the box. "Son of a bitch!" He grabbed the lighter fluid and squirted it into the box while he held the wriggling hands down. He dropped the can and dug his Zippo from his pocket while he wheezed and coughed with a healthy respect for what Sam was constantly going through considering how often things seemed to go for his brother's throat. The flame sputtered to life as Magnus' spirit appeared beside him and Dean dropped it into the box with a grin while he pulled his hand clear at the same moment.

"Sayonara, asshole!" Dean stepped away and waited for Magnus to be kicked out. He wouldn't be banished with his skull still intact, but there'd be nothing to hold him in the museum anymore. Dean's grin faltered because that meant the irate spirit would be tossed back to Sutro Baths with Sam and the need to defend the only piece of himself remaining. "Shit. Shit!" Dean pulled out his phone while Magnus suddenly smiled at him and drew a finger across his neck and then he was gone, blinked away. Dean cursed again under his breath as he dialed. He should have realized what was going to happen before lighting up the bones. The earlier events with Lisa dying in his arms must have thrown him more than he had realized. Not that any great alternatives readily sprang to mind, but he should have figured out SOMETHING before sending the thing straight for Sam.

Dean cursed as Sam's phone went to voicemail yet again and fear dropped into his stomach like a weight. "Dammit!"

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Sam stopped and leaned against the pipe on his right. It was dusty and stuffy under the ground where he'd fallen and it was making his head swim thanks to his concussion, and he was fairly sure he was the lucky recipient of a minor one at least. He smiled in a bit of a daze when he felt the river otter's head bump into his hand where it dangle beside him.

"I know. I'm moving," Sam told him wearily. The otter had been leading him on for at least fifteen minutes along the pipe with Sam's flashlight the only illumination. He was muzzy enough from his knock on the head to not even be sure what direction they were going, but he was damn sure what Dean would say if he knew his little brother was taking directions from a river otter.

"Kick my ass," Sam muttered and started moving again. "That's what he'd do." He smirked when the otter seemed to huff out a dismissive sort of breath and took the lead again. "Right. Keep…keep moving." He crawled after the otter. "Hey, Sam! Wait up!" Sam snorted, highly amused at yelling his own name despite the general crappiness of his situation. At least he wasn't too badly hurt and didn't seem to be in any sort of imminent danger of death, so that was a plus.

His voice echoed back to him along with Sutro Sam's peculiar chittering, and Sam looked up to see a larger room ahead with a taller, man-sized ceiling. Sam stepped down out of what he now realized was a service tunnel into the room and into an inch of water. He could heart it dripping and shone his light along the walls to make them glisten wetly. He found his otter guide rolling happily in the water in front of him and then spotted a door beyond.

"Nice." Sam smiled and crossed the room, unsteady on his feet but careful not to accidentally step on Sutro Sam. The door was old wood, and the handle broke off with a crack with Sam's first pull. "Well, hell." He frowned down at the suddenly chittering otter. "Don't laugh at me, dude."

Sam rested his aching head against the door for a moment and then sighed. He pulled his knife from the back of his belt and started digging into the door around where the handle had been mounted. The wood was softened with water damage and age and it made it easy to chip it away in chunks until he could reach the latching mechanism inside with his fingers. He got just enough to purchase to unlatch it and pull. The door opened with a loud squeal of hinges that went straight through his head with pain and left him leaning in the open door for a moment while he caught his breath. He felt the otter wind around his ankles and opened his eyes to look down.

"Don't suppose…you could carry me?" Sam asked and snorted when the animal just stared up at him. "Right. Stupid question." Sam aimed his light through the door and found a stair carved into the stone that quickly wound out of sight. He suddenly realized he hadn't tried to call his brother and fumbled his phone out of his pocket. He turned it on and groaned. "No bars. Of course." Sam shoved it back in his pocket and started up the stairs with Sutro Sam keeping pace beside him. He vaguely wondered at the obvious lack of fear the creature had of humans and how it actually seeming to be enjoying his company. He had the passing thought that maybe the otter had been fed or cared for by people when it was young, but the effort of just staying on his feet was taking most of his attention and he decided it didn't matter. He'd take help where he could find it.

"We…we run into my brother…m'callin' you Lassie, ok?" Sam rolled his eyes at himself. "Nothing personal." His humor fell away as he climbed with the knowledge that they likely wouldn't be running into Dean any time soon. Dean wasn't coming; not unless Sam managed to screw up any worse and his big brother had to come finish the job for him. He sighed and stopped, leaning his head on the cold stone to take a minute and catch his breath. He didn't want this to be another item on the list of things where Dean felt Sam had failed him. He wasn't sure he could take much more censure from his big brother about his shortcomings.

Sam had the things Dean had said in Kearney, Missouri, playing on a permanent loop in his head. He tried to tell himself it had only been the specter talking, but he knew that was a lie. The specter had simply given voice to the things that his big brother was already thinking. He'd heard far too many of them before and after the incident. It still hurt, having that bitch Ruby and the whole demon blood thing thrown back in his face. Yeah, he'd been wrong, but he'd paid for that mistake over and over and over again through 180 years of torture at the hands of Michael and Lucifer in the cage, and again in the aftermath of getting out. There'd been a time when Dean would have let it go, would have agreed that Sam had more than paid the price for those transgressions and more…so much more. But now…none of it seemed to count for anything anymore, nor did any of the rest of what they had shared and gone through together growing up and in those years before it all went bad…a lifetime of love and loyalty and caring, of shared good times and horrible times, all seemingly meaningless to Dean now.

Sam shook himself before he gave in to the emotion he felt threatening to overwhelm him and pushed away from the wall. Cas had taken the insanity in his head but not the memories, and sometimes thinking about them was all it took to make them swallow him again. "Nope. Not going there." He pushed the distant sound of chains and screams to the back of his mind and started up the stairs again.

He was holding himself up with the wall by the time he reached the top of the stairs and breathing heavily. Sam put his shoulder to the door he found at the top and pushed it open. "Crap!" Sam staggered back into the top of the stairs with his arm over his face as sunlight glared in and drove fresh pain through his abused head. He slid down the wall and rested his head on his knees, not moving when he felt Sutro Sam rub his head on his arm. "M'good," Sam mumbled. "Just…need a minute." Ideally, he knew he should be laying down somewhere, if not having his head scanned. Head injuries were one of the things they didn't play with, but he wasn't exactly in a position to go rushing back outside, across the basin, and up the bluff and then drive.

"Dammit." Sam reached a hand down and pulled his phone out again. He turned it back on and this time smiled with relief at the sight of the signal bars. There were three missed calls from his brother's number and Sam quickly dialed him, holding the phone to his ear while he kept his head down and waited for the pounding to stop.

"Sam? Where the hell have you been?" Dean's angry voice came through the phone and rang in his ears.

Sam immediately tossed what he'd been about to say - come help me. I'm hurt. "Sorry. Haven't been able to get a signal for a while." He pushed himself slowly up the wall, making himself stand and look out the door into the daylight again. It started an instant headache behind his eyes, but he ignored it and stepped outside to look around. "Made the mistake of trying to cut across the basin." He snorted softly even as he squinted in the light. "The ground is not stable out there. You alright?"

"I'm fine." Dean said and his voice was still contained anger; still livid that he'd let Magnus kill Lisa in front of him…but there was something in Sam's voice that made him pay attention. "You ok?"

Sam sighed. "I'm fine. I'm near the cave now," he said, spotting the dark opening yards away and he started toward it. "Give me an hour maybe and I'll find the skull."

"Watch your ass, Sam," Dean said, suddenly serious, his worry-fueled anger dissipating back into pure worry again. "I torched the bastard's hands, but he was pissed. He, uh…the curator's dead."

Sam sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. "Dean…I'm sorry." Guilt swept through him and he understood the anger in his brother's voice now. If he hadn't suggested they split up, he would have been there to help, to watch Dean's back like he was supposed to. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm good. Cas patched me up." Dean told him and checked his watch. "I'm heading to you. You should just wait for me."

"I'm…I'm fine, Dean. I can do this." Sam held a hand over his eyes against the light and aimed for the cave entrance. It stung knowing that once again, someone else had watched out for Dean, though it hurt a little less knowing it was the angel and not the vampire. Cas, at least, was family, no matter how broken he sometimes was. Besides, in their tiny circle, broken was practically a rite of passage. "I'm heading into the cave now."

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean yelled. "You do not get how pissed off this ghost is!"

"I can figure it out," Sam said, keeping his calm and sighed with relief when he stepped into the shadow of the cave. The relief was so great he swayed for a moment and had to slap both hands out to the wall to steady himself.

"Sam? What's goin' on?" Dean called out, clearly worried that his brother had been attacked.

"Nothing. Don't cross the open ground when you get here." Sam leaned against the wall. "Go around or you'll fall through. I'll see you when you get here. Hopefully have the skull taken care of by then." Sam cut the call off before Dean could yell at him again and blew out a breath. He really didn't trust Sam anymore, not even for a simple salt and burn.

Sam looked down when Sutro Sam scurried into the cave and stopped to look at him. "Don't imagine you know where the old guy's vault was?" The otter tilted its head to look at him and then ran back out. Sam heard a splash as it dove into the pool and nodded. "Ok. On my own. I can do this." He turned back into the cave and started down the sand-covered floor.

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Dean stared at his phone for a moment as he drove and then shoved it in his pocket. He wasn't an idiot. He'd raised Sam. He knew every damn sound he'd made, and a year in Purgatory dulled his skills, yeah, but he still knew the sound of his brother hurting. Sam was hurt and not damn well telling him.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled because worrying about Sam was the last thing he needed after having to watch Lisa die. It pissed him off that his little brother didn't trust him enough to tell him he'd been hurt - enough to hide it, to not even mention it. That was generally Sam's default when he knew damn well he needed to stop. "Dammit, Sam." Dean coaxed more speed out of the Impala as he sped toward the Baths and his brother and hoped that he would get there before Magnus Dunlevy took matters into his own ghostly hands again. He had a brief flash of himself under the specter's control and the things he'd said, and he knew then why Sam was keeping more and more things from him; Dean hadn't exactly given him a reason to think he cared much lately. In fact, honestly trying to look at it from Sam's perspective, he had practically gone out of his way to make Sam think he didn't.

The Impala ate up the miles on the road, and still it took him an hour to reach the Baths and the sun was just started to set behind him as he climbed out of the car next to Sam's and went for a look over the edge. "Holy crap," Dean breathed as he looked down into the now shadowed basin below. His eyes scanned the ruins, spotting the pool, the ocean beyond and then focused on the darker shadow among shadows to his right that must be the cave entrance.

Dean pulled his shotgun out of the trunk and a flashlight and headed for the stairs. At least here, he didn't have to worry about someone hearing a gun going off and calling the police down on him. He remembered what Sam had said on the phone and stayed to the side, keeping one hand firmly on the rail as he moved quickly down the face of the bluff. He had to turn the flashlight on quickly with the sun hidden behind him and throwing him into gloom. "This is gonna suck once it's pitch dark. Shit," Dean grumbled as he raced down as quickly as he dared. He stumbled several times when a step crumbled under his foot and heaved a sigh of relief at the bottom.

Dean looked across the basin to the cave entrance and then at the ground itself between him and it with his brother's warning in his head. "Don't cross the basin." He considered ignoring the warning and then remembered - Sam was hurt and not talking about it and had been clear to warn Dean off crossing the open ground. "Dammit." He opted for the long way and jogged off around the perimeter of the ruins.

It was a much longer route, not just taking the easy way across, and Dean internally seethed with the delay. He ventured out onto the open ground once, but beat a hasty retreat back to the cliff wall when he felt the ground actually give under his feet. It had the effect of telling him what had likely happened to his brother. He looked out over the smooth sweep of open space more carefully in the dim light, finally spotting the darker spot of what was most likely a hole in the otherwise uniformly grey expanse. The voice in the back of his head that he hadn't been listening to much lately told him Sam had sounded a little dazed…concussed dazed…and Dean picked up the pace wondering what other injuries Sam was hiding and/or ignoring. "Crap, Sammy…" It was little more than a whisper.

Dean stopped outside the cave entrance and caught his breath. He played his flashlight along the ground and saw tracks leading inside. He stepped into the darkness and couldn't hear anything. "Sam?" he called and listened again. "Dammit." Dean shined the light along the floor and followed his brother's tracks. Thirty feet on, he splashed into shallow water and his brows rose, wondering if the cave actually flooded at any point. "Sam!" He stopped when he almost passed another tunnel on his left and knew that's where his brother had gone.

"Sam? Answer me, dammit!" Dean entered the tunnel and found a narrow, tight set of stairs cut into the very rock itself and leading up. His shoulders brushed the walls on either side of him in the tight space "SAM!" Dean winced with his own voice echoing back to him in the confined space. He stopped, bracing his hands on the walls when he thought he heard something from above. He listened intently and then burst into a run. He could hear voices raised, shouting, and one of them was his little brother's.

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To Be Continued…