I am so sorry for the delay. I wanted this posted last night but then we had a massive power outage. I also apologize because I said this would be the last chapter, but the chapter got so long I'm breaking it in two. So the fourth and final chapter will be posted sometime this weekend as I am still tweaking. This is unbeta'd so please excuse the mistakes. And thank you Trasan for your input!

Surviving Detroit

Chapter 3

Dean's heart was pounding, his hands shaking as he knocked on the wooden door. "Sam? Sammy? it's me… Dean." He waited then glanced at Bobby, icy cold slithering down his spine at the eerie quiet. He lifted his hand to knock again, wondering if the monk had been wrong about Sam being in this room… but then stopped, his fist a breath away from the door.

"What's wrong?" Bobby started to ask but Dean held up his other hand to quiet him; something was off. Didn't feel right.

It wasn't anything he could put his finger on, but –

His fist dropped, slipped around his lower back to curl around the handle of Ruby's knife. He slowly pulled it out, fully focused on the door in front of him. He listened hard.

There!

Something.

A soft thud.

But enough.

He knew, as certain as his own name, that his brother was in that room… and that Sam was not alone.

And then the door was yanked open and Dean found himself face to face with another monk.

A monk with black eyes!

"Well, Dean-O," the demon smirked at him, then glanced past him at Bobby. "Bobby. Looks like the whole gang's here. Come on in, boys, Sam's mighty anxious to see ya!"

Horror stuttered his breathing. Meg was here. With Sam.

Swallowing hard, Dean stepped inside the small room.

And then he saw his brother, tied to a bed, blind-folded, gagged and his horror was replaced with fury. This bitch was going down.


Meg was fuming. This should have been a simple in and out. Dean and Bobby being here was definitely going to complicate things, thanks to the pretty little knife she could see griped in a furious looking Dean's hand.

She'd actually been watching Sam since he was yanked out of hell. Waiting until she was certain she could take him out, unsure of just how powerful he might still be.

It had been an amusing vigil, seeing the pathetic way Sam hung around that house, skulking in the shadows, watching Dean and his replacement family. The despair and longing that rolled off Sam made her start to consider this mission a mercy killing.

The vestiges of hell that clung to the young man encouraged her patience. Knowing it was his 'shining' that made him susceptible to their continued influence; the lingering remnants of Azazel's taint and the demon blood kept him cloyed in torment, a tangible reminder that Sam Winchester was still dangerous.

But the reward? The satisfaction of getting to watch Lucifer peel the flesh from his body? That drove her determination. For that, Meg would drag Sam back to hell, personally.

Big brother and gruff buddy Bobby might complicate things, but they were not going to stop her. Sam was supposed to be in hell, and hell was where he'd be going, but why not have a little fun first?

"I really wish you hadn't come here," Meg put as much remorse into her voice as possible. "This isn't what it looks like." She loved how Dean fought to pull his gaze away from his trussed up brother to look at her. Ooh and the anguish she could see on his face. And then it was gone. Brief and fleeting, schooled behind a perfect Winchester mask.

Yup, this was going to be lots of fun.

"Oh, really?" Dean snarked, ever the wise-ass. "And what does it look like?"

"Like I have your baby brother tied down to a bed. And not for a night of the usual fun." She missed the good old days of being a blond bimbo; the monk-ey suit was making it harder to flirt.

"Okay then, I'd have to say that's exactly what it looks like."

Meg loved the way Dean growled as his fingers flexed on the handle of the knife. She knew the only reason he hadn't lunged at her yet was because she was currently twining her fingers in Sammy's hair. They both knew Sam'd be dead before Dean could make even halfway across the small room. Sam tried to yank his head away but she just gripped him more tightly.

Behind Dean, Bobby glowered at her.

Time to ramp up the joy.

"This isn't your brother," she threw it out there. "It's a demon." Dean glanced down at Sam briefly, then back up at her. She wanted to smirk at the shadow of doubt she saw on his face. This was too easy.

"A demon?" the muscle in Dean's jaw clenched. "This how you treat all your kin?"

Sam struggled on the bed again. She tightened her grip and he stopped with a muffled whimper. Poor baby, did she actually tear hair this time?

She chuckled. "Oh, honey, he isn't anything like me…" She paused for dramatic effect and enjoyed the way Dean tried to keep his eyes on her but they kept returning to his trapped brother. "This isn't your brother anymore, Dean. Sam Winchester is dead… This," she gave Sam's head a cruel shake, "is a monster. An abomination, that even hell didn't want."

Meg could smell the sweat of Sam's tears as they dampened the blind fold. Poor kid was shaking as they both knew that big brother was buying this, hook, line and sinker.

Of course once this was all over and she'd killed Sammy, she'd let Dean know it was the real Sam all along. Oh, it was so much fun being her.


No,

Sam was trembling as Meg claimed he was a demon, no!

Demons lie, he told himself, they lie… but sometimes they tell the truth

Bucking against Meg's painful grip, Sam needed to let Dean know that, no matter what else he was now, Sam was still Sam. He was still Dean's brother.

He felt the blindfold loosen as she yanked hard on his hair and he stilled, an unbidden whimper gasping into the gag. Then as the demon continued to taunt Dean, Sam moved his head slightly from side to side, further working the restraint down.

Just a bit more and then he could see -

And the first thing he saw was Dean.

His brother. His big brother; standing at the foot of the bed, glaring at Meg, then looking at him.

But Dean didn't see Sam, the older man's gaze was fleeting as it skittered down Sam's long body then back to Meg, not looking at Sam's face.

Dean…

Hot tears of frustration and despair burned Sam's skin, soaking the displaced blindfold as Meg's words about him being an abomination struck close to home.

No, Dean, he tried to scream. Please… don't believe her!

Then Dean started to laugh.


"Oh, that's a good one," Dean chuckled coldly. "An abomination, huh? Something even hell doesn't want? If that's so, than what are you doing here? You're a demon, Meg, not a bounty hunter." His eyes narrowed as he focused all his attention on her. "No way… Taking the time to truss a guy up? That's personal. Blindfold? Gag? You're afraid of him." He paused, squaring his shoulders and hardening his glare. "This ain't no demon, Meg. This is Sam. My brother."

"And if you're wrong?" the demon challenged.

"And if we're wrong," Bobby spoke up, his voice bolstering Dean's conviction. "We'll take care of it. Our way."

A slight groan was the only warning they got when, suddenly, the heavy wooden cross hanging over Sam's bed fell forward, hitting Meg across the back and knocking her to ground under its sheer weight.

Dean lunged, Ruby's knife flashing, burying it deep in the demon's back.

Noise. Light. The smell of sulfur, then Meg was gone.

Finally.

It was over.

A soft moan twisted Dean's attention back to the bed. Blood leaked from Sam's nose as he harshly panted beneath the gag. No, Dean corrected as he moved towards his brother. Not over. Just beginning

Dean's hands were shaking as he carefully undid the knot on the gag, then finished sliding the blindfold down. Sam's eyes were closed and as they slowly opened, Dean found himself holding his breath and chanting pleasedon'tbeblackpleasedon'tbeblack.

Then hazel, bloodshot but clear, were gazing up at him and Dean felt like he could finally breathe again. "Sammy?" hopefulness cracked his voice but he didn't care. His brother had been dead, had fallen into hell-

A small smile curled the edges of Sam's mouth, his eyes shone.
Behind them Bobby coughed softly and said something about getting the Elder.

Dean vaguely noticed him leaving the room.

"Dean," Sam finally said, the name a soft sigh that had them both grinning. Then Sam winced as his tried to move.

"Oh shit, sorry!" Dean quickly fumbled to get the rest of the ropes untied. His face darkened when he saw the angry rope burns on his brother's wrists as he got the first, then second one untied. Death was too easy for that bitch. "You know, this is awfully crappy of you," he spoke as he worked. "Here I was planning on beating the crap out of you as soon as I found you, then nursing you back to health, but seems like I gotta do the nursing first!" He meant it as a joke as he loosened the knots on his brother's ankles, but the way that Sam stiffened on the bed told him that maybe things were a bit too raw yet for joking.

Sam worked his jaw for a moment then managed, "I'm so sorry..." He pushed himself up on his elbows.

Dean paused in his task, the last knot almost undone and had to ask. He needed to know. "Why, Sammy? Why didn't you find me? You could have called." The accusation was clear. It hurt.

"I did find you," Sam leaned down and pulled the last knot loose himself, then carefully sat up, his long legs swinging over the bed. "But..."

Dean waited a moment, when his brother didn't continue, he straighted up and asked. "But what?"

"But, oh man, Dean," Sam shook his head and snorted, his eyes down on his hands. "It all sounds so lame now. I was stupid... I thought you'd be better off, you know? I had no idea how I even got out of hell. It was like one moment - there," he swallowed hard at the memories, "the next outside Lisa's house watching you."

The muscle in Dean's jaw worked and he nodded for Sam to continue when Sam looked up at him.

"I still don't know how I got back... or why and I was afraid-" he snorted bitterly. "It doesn't matter what I was afraid of, I just - I thought it'd be better this way. For a little while anyway."

Dean was silent as he listened to his brother. Hurt and anger warred with compassion. He sorta understood though and wondered what he would have done if things had been different.

"And I just didn't want to see anyone else get hurt," Sam added quietly. "Least of all you, or Lisa or Ben."

"What about you?" he asked his little brother.

"What about me?" Sam looked at him in confusion.

"I didn't want to see you get hurt either," Dean glanced away, blinking
quickly. "It killed me thinking you were in hell. Every day, Sammy, every day."

"I know," Sam was back to watching his hands. They trembled where they lay folded in his lap. "I'm sorry, Dean. I don't know what else to say."

"How about you don't ever do that again? Either of it – the dying or the hiding from me?" Dean offered, too relieved to have Sam back to stay angry over this.

Sam looked up so quickly, the grateful hopefulness on his face was almost painful to see. It reminded Dean of a young Sammy who'd just been given another chance when he was sure he'd done something to make his big brother hate him forever. Yeah, thought Dean quietly, like that would ever happen.

"Dean," he started to say something, probably about not having control over the dying part, but then clamped his jaw shut and gave a curt nod instead.

It wasn't everything… but for them? It was enough.

TBC