Darkness
Chapter Three
Dean slowly withdrew the Sgian Dubh from the waistband of his jeans and gripped it tightly in his trembling hand as he faced the creature that was once his brother. The words of the Di' Rhalian reverberated in his head and his broken body hummed with the need to finish the grim task that only he could. He felt the familiar thrill of the hunt flood his disciplined muscles and bit back the dichotomous disgust that hunting his own flesh and blood churned in his belly.
He raised his gaze to meet his brother's and the cold, cruelty of Sam's once warm, hazel eyes threatened to destroy him where he stood. Faltering, he could not keep the pain of what he must now do from his face and he watched in horror as his brother, seeing his torment, laughed out loud.
"You think you can actually do this, Dean?"
Sam slipped his jacket from his broad shoulders as he squared up to his reluctant combatant.
"You really think you can bear to spill my blood?"
Cold laughter echoed emptily around the makeshift arena as the imposing figure before him steadily advanced. Without warning, Sam's open palm snaked out, striking Dean's left shoulder hard spinning him back, tumbling him backwards over an old oil drum. The older man gasped as the jarring impact caused pain to flare mercilessly from a recent dislocation. Cursing softly beneath his breath he struggled to rise, biting back further signs of weakness. Delight flooded Sam's disdain filled face as he watched Dean struggle.
"What does your pathetic little ritual say..?"
Sam feinted towards his brother again, mocking him, chuckling as he backed away.
Silently, with wounded jade locked onto cruel hazel, Dean sidled defensively, the black knife raised to Sam's eye line as he held his throbbing left arm tight against his chest.
"How does it go, Dean? "So shall the Vessel of Light take up the Sgian Dubh and, with the black blade, let flow the crimson river that will wipe away the evil from the heart of Man"? That's it, isn't it?"
Sam's raised eyebrow taunted disrespectfully.
"Well, come on then..."
Sam goaded, spreading his arms wide, thrusting his chest wantonly towards the blade.
"Come fulfil your destiny, Vessel of Light!"
The sneer was infuriating but Dean held his ground, too experienced at baiting an opponent himself to fall for the trap. He circled carefully, looking for the right opening. He knew his opponent was in better shape than he and in a knife fight Sam had always benefited from his longer reach. If he was to achieve his objective he needed to be calm and keep his head. Anger would only make him careless and he knew he would likely get just the one chance.
Sam snarled, tired of Dean's over cautious hesitation. He had imagined this would be more challenging, more fun but it was proving too easy. He changed tack and cruelly used his knowledge of his brother's grieving heart against him.
"What? Cat got your tongue? Not like the great Dean Winchester to sit back and suffer in silence. You too scared, Dean? Don't wanna risk hurting your baby-brother? Always has been your job to look after me, hasn't it?"
He watched the muscle above Dean's jaw contract and knew he was touching a raw nerve. "Think you've got what it takes to make me bleed? But you swore to protect me, Dean, swore to keep your baby brother safe."
Sam's sing-song whine filled the air between them, each word cutting a little deeper, leaving the older brother's anguished soul raw and bleeding
"Haven't done a real bang up job of it though, have ya, Dean?"
They circled like prowling beasts as Sam smiled obscenely.
"What protector worth his salt would allow this to happen?"
Dean growled low in his throat, hot, acidic guilt churning in his gut at Sam's words.
"And not only that but you dragged your friends into this, too. How many of your pathetic hunter clan have died, Dean? How much of their sweet blood has your carelessness let me taste?"
Dean's mouth opened but no response came out as his grip on the knife unconsciously tightened. He saw before him the faces and twisted, defiled bodies of the dozens who had died in this war. And their untimely loss threatened to overwhelm him.
Sam watched the horror of his words assault his brother and delighted in his provocation.
"Well one more won't matter will it, Dean? I think that after I've finished with you, and you are broken to my will, then I'll have you dispatch that useless old man, Singer. It'd be ..."
The threat to Bobby was enough to tip Dean over the edge and his explosive charge took Sam off his feet as his shoulder savagely punched into the younger man's solar plexus, slamming him to the hard floor in a tumble of long legs and flailing arms. All thoughts of a careful, planned, precise attack washed away by the fury that coursed through his veins.
Brutal blows slammed repeatedly into kindred flesh, landing thick and fast as the months of pent up frustration and hatred finally overflowed. Punching, kicking, biting, gouging, base instinct replacing their exacting training as they tore frantically into each other.
The end of the world battle reduced to a scrabbling, hatred-fuelled bar room brawl.
The battle flowed back and forth for endless minutes as each brother took advantage and pounded the other into temporary submission and all the time Dean tried to bring the Sgian Dubh into play only to have Sam evade the fatal blade. The older man felt panic encroaching. He was weakening and fearful desperation began to clutch at his heart.
Sam drove his fist deep into Dean's gut and was rewarded with a stilted gasp as the older man curled in on himself, arms wrapping protectively around his lower abdomen. Sam scrambled to his feet, twisting to ram his boot hard into his brother's ribs, Dean rolled from the force of the blow, crashing up against a pile of packing crates, and black spots burst before his eyes as the hard wood again knocked the breath from his labouring lungs. Gasping, he struggled to haul in a breath as, slumping back; he tried in vain to recover his guard.
Sam towered over him, sucking in deep breaths but otherwise appearing unharmed, pitiless eyes gazed down on the injured form, like a cat playing with a mouse. A tight smile crossed the callous features as an agonised groan escaped from between the bloodstained, parted lips. Slowly, Sam drew back his leg, taking careful aim and this time the downed hunter heard a sickening crunch and he felt his ribs crack under the blow.
Dean groaned, face creased in pain as he pressed his hands into his side and gasped breathlessly on the floor at his brother's feet.
Sam backed away, staring down contemptuously as he circled, breathing heavily.
"Had... enough... bro?"
He aimed another precise kick, the heavy leather drawn as if by a magnet to a still healing gash high on Dean's upper thigh. Unable to stop himself, a low moan of pain joined the flood of fresh blood as stitches ripped open and the pale denim bloomed crimson in the dappled light.
Sam's smile never reached his cruel eyes as he paced casually up and down, running his eyes slowly, almost lovingly over the damage he had inflicted on the weakly moving figure huddled before him.
"Oh, come on, Dean. That all you got? Come on, bro, make me proud!"
"Fuck...you..."
The younger man's derision rallied the struggling man and Dean gasped, pulling shakily to his knees, as he raised his head up to keep an unsteady eye on his quarry.
"Dean...such language! I'm shocked."
Sam laughed mocked his brother's pain as he bent to grab a length of iron pipe from the dusty floor and made once more for Dean. He swung the metal dangerously as he approached. Dean dropped instinctively, pivoting on his hip and drove hard into Sam's knee with both feet. The tall hunter toppled to the ground, grating noises coming from his knee as he fell, but he held fast to the pipe, slamming it down hard on Dean's hand where it grasped the Sgian Dubh, as he fell.
Agony flared in Dean's smashed fingers as the pipe knocked the knife away from his grasp and he cried out against the litany of pain his battered body was enduring.
Despair and panic threatened to overwhelm him. He had to finish this, he could feel his strength failing and he didn't know how much more he could take. He had to recover the knife. It was his only hope. He rolled in the dirt, desperately tracking the blade to its resting place.
Forcing himself beyond the pain, Dean half crawled, half dragged his protesting body towards the corner, where his prize lay mocking him from amongst a pile of scattered debris. His hand closed about the hilt only to have his plan thwarted by Sam's full weight landing on top of him, pressing him to the dusty floor. He writhed beneath his brother, desperately trying to reach with his shattered hand for the skittering blade. But it was just out of reach!
Bracing his boots against the concrete floor he gathered his strength for one last surge, using his superior muscle power to arch his body, twisting at the same time to throw his brother off him. Once free, he lunged and his broken fingers touched the tip of the blade, dragging it toward himself, the words of the ritual howling for completion in his head.
Sam rolled to a halt against the press of machinery crowding their combat zone and looked on in wide eyed horror as Dean stretched for the knife. He was amazed at his brother's tenacity. He knew that Dean was harbouring numerous physical wounds, not to mention the mental anguish he suffered, hell he'd personally inflicted much of it, but still he came back at Sam.
It was time to end this. Whilst the physical battle and the inflicting of pain was a pleasure, Sam had now tired of it. He had better things to do than waste his time and energy with this human vermin. He took up the metal bar in both hands and, expertly weighing the balance, flung it powerfully and with deadly accuracy towards his beleaguered brother.
The bar struck Dean on the temple just as his fingers curled around the warm steel of the Sgian Dubh. The impact drove his head back painfully on his neck as the skin above his eye split and blood fountained forth. Fire flashes of light blossomed as his vision dimmed, tunnelling down towards blackness and the familiar taste of copper filled his mouth. With his eyes rolling backwards he slumped to the ground as unconsciousness claimed him, his last image that of Sam smiling as he rose and made toward him.
Chapter ends
