Hello all. Once again thank you for taking the time to read and review this story, and I would once again like to apologize for how long it's taken me to post this chapter. Truth be told I wasn't going to write another chapter because I was kinda stuck on where to go with it, but you guys wanted me to write another, so I did. So, here we go another chapter, long overdue chapter.
Another state away like he said, still doesn't feel nearly far enough, but right now Sam needs a bed that's not the backseat of the car, so he stops. It is nearly two in the morning, and honestly, he's exhausted with the driving and all, but he knows his big brother duties are nowhere near done for the night.
" Alright Sammy boy, let's get you into a real bed," Dean says as the Impala stops in a motel parking lot. He turns reaching behind the bench seat to give Sam a soft shoulder pat.
Around an hour or less after his roadside puke show. Sam took the offer of stretching out in the back and attempt to get some sleep. " M' kay " Sam mumbles, but makes no effort to so much as open his eyes.
Dean gets out and heads to the motel office in order to get them a room for the next two days, figuring it's smart to move on after that. Upon returning to the car Sam is still in the back with a blanket draped over him, so Dean opens the door for him and asks," Need help?".Sam nods, his cheek rubbing against the car's leather seat, just by accepting help that clues Dean into how crappy Sam feels. "Alright, c'mon."
The older brother spins around and sits on the edge of the seat so Sam can climb onto him easier. Sam props himself up then gets on his knees before circling his arms around Dean's neck. Sam rests his warm cheek on his brother's shoulder. With a grunt, that's more for dramatic effect than the actual lifting, Dean hoists Sam up, looping his arms with the kid's dangling legs; so they aren't hanging anymore. The blanket that Dean had covered Sam with earlier slides off onto the car's floor.
They make their way to the room, which is located on the ground floor in the far corner. Even with the extra weight of a twelve-year-old on his back, it doesn't bother him. When he gets to the chipped green painted door of their room, he jams the key in the knob and twists it before using his foot to nudge it open.
For the most part, the room is just like any other motel room, with the patterned wallpaper, the various floor stains, and the warn furniture they're so familiar with- yep home sweet home. Dean peels the covers from the bed furthest from the door; the one closest is reserved for the defender a.k.a him. He turns his back to the bed, bending backward slightly and unhooking Sam's entangled fingers from each other. "Easy does it", he grunts lowering his brother as carefully as possible. Sam lays with his face to the wall and his back to Dean, starting to drift again, as his brother slips both untied shoes off Sam's feet; tossing them to the floor. The older brother takes a seat next to the younger with his back pressed against Sam's, " How we feelin'"
Leaning over his body, so Dean is now able to see Sam's face, on one elbow, he brushes sweaty bangs out of the way of a rarely seen forehead; only then feeling the heat coming off him. Great, a fever, well that's Sam for you, one thing goes wrong and everything else follows suit, for him, it's never just a cold, or just a bug, or just a brutal beating from his father.
" M' hot." Sam half groans half whines.
"Yeah.", tell me something I don't know. Dean sighs combing his fingers through his short hair, " How 'bout the pain, rate it"
The younger brother shifts in place," Like a seven", he says with his eyes squeezed closed.
The kid's pain tolerance will always impress Dean, any other person, kid or not, would be crying in pain if they were in his shoes. " Alright, hang tight.", Dean pats Sam's knee.
First off, he needs to find Sam some meds, that won't make him puke his guts out of course; however, the problem with that is they left the first aid kit at the house, with John. Dean goes through the room in search of anything that could help, but comes up with nothing; because why would anything be easy. Returning to his brother, Dean rotates Sam carefully out of his curled up position to his back. " I gotta go on a supply run, get you some medicine for the pain and fever". He unzips the hoodie to help- even if not that much- cool Sam off. " I'll be right back.", he says standing and starting to walk away, but is stopped when there's a pull on the sleeve of his leather jacket.
Sam shoots up so fast that you'd think he's in no pain at all and grips his older brother's jacket as if it's life itself. Dean first looks at the hand holding him back, then the fever-glazed eyes it belongs to. There's no exchange of words needed, Sam's face tells him everything, please don't leave me, not again.
Dean then turns around fully, causing Sam to crash back into the headboard with relief, his grip on Dean never loosening. Dean crouches down, putting his hand on top of Sam's smaller wrapped up one, " Ten minutes.", he's looking Sam directly in the watery pleading eyes, so that he knows he's making a vow, " Ten minutes, I promise that's it.". Really can Dean blame the kid for being so clingy, the last time he'd left him on a short supply run, well...everything went to shit.
Reluctantly Sam lets go," Okay", he says his voice vibrating a little. Yet still in the back of his mind he can't help but think that without Dean there something, anything could happen to him, but what's ten minutes.
" Goodman."
Dean stands again, then heads for the door, " Don't open the door for any reason, not even for me, 'cause I've gotta key.", he dangles the keys from his index finger, waits for Sam's nod, then heads out.
He decides to take a much-needed walk, backtracking to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy they passed on the way in. The three-ish minute walk there is silent with no other nightwalkers. The words what now repeating in his head like a mantra. What now, what now what now? If they stay in one place for too long, then they risk being caught, but at the same time, everything they need is two states over. The credit cards, the weapons, save for their personal pocket knives, and Dean's gun, their clothes, were left behind so eventually, the money they have will be spent, then what? Sure Dean can always hustle some pool, or poker, or whatever else but that doesn't always work. They've escaped from John for now, but what happens if, no when he catches up to them, bad things that's what.
Dean walks into the pharmacy, already knowing exactly what to get. It takes a minute to find everything in this unfamiliar store, but he still manages to get in and out in five minutes give or take. Another few minutes later he's back at the motel, he stops at the car first to grab one of his spare t-shirts for Sam since all that he's wearing is a hoodie right now, then goes back to the room. He finds no surprise when he walks into a sleeping Sam. The grey hoodie once on the boy's slim frame is now held in Sam's arms with his face buried in it, and the top sheets and cover are thrown on the floor beside the bed. With plastic bags in hand he Dean goes to sit next to Sam, pulling off, then chucking his jacket to his bed in the process.
When Dean sits, the bed dips causing Sam to look up at him with eyes open to slits, " D'n, you b'k?", he mumbles
" Yep," Dean reaches into the bag making a crinkling sound. " And I've got the sick Sammy arsenal". He fishes a small white bottle with a red label out, " Tylenol.", he shakes it then sets it on the nightstand, " Gatorade", he puts it next to the Tylenol, " And just in case you're hungry, crackers.", the box goes next to everything else.
Sam props himself up on both elbows before Dean drags him up from under his armpits into a full sitting position. " What color Gatorade?" Sam asks, fisting his tired eyes unable to see for himself through the darkness.
The older brother tugs the bedside lamp's chain, realizing how dark the room is, " Obviously I got blue, you dope," he jokes, " it's the only one you like."
Sam stretches out his hand at the bottle, " Good", he huffs in an almost chuckle, waiting for it to be handed to him.
Dean takes hold of the bottled blue liquid and cracks it open, " Small sips, we wouldn't want it to come back up.", he warns before handing it off.
Sam takes it with both hands, the liquid almost seeming too heavy for him in his weakened state. As directed he takes one small sip and swallows it once, twice, three times. The moment of truth, if Sam gulps one more time, something's coming up; something always comes up on the fourth swallow. The younger sibling nods, knowing what Dean is waiting to find out, he gives a thumb up; the all clear. Once he's sure the Gatorade isn't going to make a reappearance Sam takes another, slightly larger sip. As he does so Dean pops the Tylenol open, the shakes one tablet into his palm.
" Okay, now try it with this.", he holds it between his thumb and index finger and waits for Sam to take it.
Sam eyes it, " sS'not gonna make me sick is it?" ' cause that would suck.
Dean smirks, " No, it's not as strong as what they gave you at the hospital."
Sam, with complete trust in his brother's reassurance, fills his mouth with a small amount of blue liquid, flicks the white tablet in, then gulps as much he can fit- making his cheeks puff- before downing everything. He swallows three times, then burps.
The burp puts Dean on high alert " Good?" he questions.
Sam wipes his upper lip dry with his forearm, " Think so." , hope so.
The older brother takes the black ACDC t-shirt that he got from the car and presents it balled up to the younger, " Here, we uh, left all our stuff with...him, and you don't have a shirt, so…" Usually, Dean would make fun of Sam's scrawniness when he is shirtless, that litter the kid's body, old and new, make him feel so uncomfortable, but the bruises, he just wants them to go away, so covering them is the next best thing. And he Sam knows must feel vulnerable, exposed this way he would
Sam takes the shirt and scrunches it up to the neck hole so that can slide it over his head with a bit more ease. When he gets it over his head, needing to duck his head down more than usual as a way to make up for not being able to raise his arms too high, he tries to slip his arms through, wincing in pain when he has to raise it. He manages to do one himself, and probably could have done the other, but Dean intervenes, pulling his arm and bent elbow through. The shirt is big on his skinny body and slightly drapes below his waist, but despite the size, it makes Sam feel safe because it's Dean's. Dean can't help but feel bad that he doesn't have any other, more comfortable, unbloodied, ripped pants for Sam to change into, but he's doing his best; too bad his best isn't good enough.
Dean takes a glance at the digital alarm clock its red numbers read two fifty. " It's late or early, or whatever, so I'm gonna get some shut eye."
" Me too." Sam slides down to the pillow under him and Dean pulls thin sheets over the kid's shoulder, " Thanks, Dean". He's not thanking him for any one specific thing, just everything.
Dean ruffles Sam's hair, " No thanks needed little bro, these are things awesome brothers like myself do"
" Yeah I know, but still thanks," he says through a yawn with droopy eyes.
Before retreating to his own bed the older brother smooths the side of the younger's hair down where it stuck every which way from where he had slept on it earlier, " Night Sammy"
" Night Dean"
Dean collapses on his not so comfortable motel the having driven a good few hours, plus the emotional exhaustion from everything else, he doesn't bother doing anything more than to kick his boots off. He doesn't know what's next, how could he, but the one thing he's sure of; the one thing that's an absolute fact is that he's protecting his kid, no matter what.
Sam opens his eyes, slowly, no longer in the motel room sleeping in the bed next to his brother's, he's on a cold blood-stained white tiled floor; back in the vacation home. He's back how and where he was before his brother came and found him, with his palm bleeding freely. It's like all of his senses are heightened, the lights brighter, the steady drip of blood to the floor louder, the tears rolling down his face wetter. He calls for Dean over and over again, praying that this isn't real. Then there is a pound on the bathroom door followed by an all too familiar rough voice, " Sam, unlock the s door goddamnit, I mean it!"
" Dad?", he manages to choke out. Oh god don't be Dad, please don't be-. The banging continues louder, harder, and more violent this time.
" Sam open up, right now! "
" No, no no!", Sam cries out. Hasn't the punching and kicking, and cutting been enough!
" No, no is not an option, you fucked up now come and face the consequences.", John shouts through the door.
Sam covers his ears and scrunches his eyes closed, " Leave me alone!" please, just go away.
At that, the door splinters open, his worst nightmare on the other side. The boy quivers as his father storms in. He tries to disappear into the wall to no avail as John comes and grips the front of his shirt and yanks him up with more force than needed. " Dean Help!", Sam screams. He knows Dean was right next to him, where'd he go.
John gives him a swift heavy -handed audible punch with his free hand, causing Sam's mouth to fill with blood. " Remember Sam, we talked about this, he doesn't want you around, your too weak, you hold him back."
"No," Sam grunts trying to pull free, with a bloody, red, and stinging face by punching and kicking at his dad's gut, but it just makes John grasp tighter, "He's my brother, he'll always want me", or at least he thinks so…
John throws his reject of a son to a sliding stop into the wall, " Well I'm your father, and I wish you were dead, hell I wish you were never born, so are you sure he wants you, I mean he did just leave you here with me." He now stands directly above Sam and brings a heavy boot down on the kid's chest. Sam starts scratching at the man's jeans in response trying to get the crushing, that's stopping his full breaths to stop. " It's time you learn." his foot raises then slams down again. John brings the gun from his belt loop and points it in Sam's direction, " And there's only one way you'll truly do that", then he pulls the trigger
" DAD, NO!"
Sam shoots up, his eyes darting open to a dark 's dripping in a cold sweat, and his ears are ringing, wet bangs clinging to his forehead. His hand is clutching his shirt at the chest as if he's trying to stop his thumping heart from leaping out. "Dad, no", he whispers this time, still not fully in the present. Rough hands clasp one arm; Dad trying to pull him away, or so he thought. " s-Stop, please" " please!" he shouts," I learned okay, I learned." He tries to twist away but the hands just double, " Dad, p-please stop", he pleads breathlessly.
The kid is in the corner of the bed with his back against the wall, his knees tucked into his chest, his head sandwiched between them, " I'm sorry", he weaps, gripping his hair at the roots between fingers, his whole body shaking. " I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorr-", he says using one hand to hit himself each time he needlessly apologies.
It isn't until he hears a firm yet soothing voice accompanied by not the smell of alcohol stinging his nose, but what he can only describe as safe, that he realizes the hands aren't hostile, " Sam". Dean holds tight to his brother's shoulders so that he can't struggle away, " Sam look at me, dad's not here, it's Dean." Dean forces Sam's hands out of his hair, and holds tight to struggling wrists, " Sam", he shouts this time, but not in a harsh way.
This time when he hears his name Sam slowly glares up at the figure before him, his body losing tension when even in the almost pitch black they lock eyes, " Dean", he sobs his voice vibrating.
The older brother moves next to the younger, as tears freely fall down Sam's face; the kid clearly being too exhausted to hold them back, as he usually would. Dean pulls Sam to his side, feeling the slightly lesser heat of Sam's body, " Shhh, Sam Dad's not here, it was just a dream.", he soothes not caring that tears now soak his shirt, " It's okay"
" I don' get it, Dean, why does he hate us so much what did we do?", why does he want me dead?
" Nothing.", he answers with no now nor ever have they done anything for them to deserve the abuse John has inflicted on them over the years.
Sam curls his fingers in Dean's shirt right by the pendant he gave him years ago, " Then why does he do it, why?" Sam really doesn't get it if they did nothing why are they always punished.
" I dunno, Dad's just angry and sad and whatever the hell else, but that doesn't give him a free pass okay?"
" Angry at us?"
Dean takes a deep breath, " No, just angry." At the world, at himself. He adjusts himself so he and Sam are making eyes contact again, " So you didn't do a damn thing wrong, got that,"
He holds his brother and they adjust to positions so they are relatively comfortable, (Sam more so), with Sam in between Dean's legs, and Dean leaned against the wall. Eventually, Sam's tears stop and his hiccuping breath evens out, with the help of his brothers calming voice and the way he rubs the back of his head as he does when the kid is upset. Though he's sleep, Dean's not leaving his brother's side again tonight, just in case, so he nods off on the wall in a position that will no doubt cause him pain in the morning.
John's jaw is left agape from the surprise of what he's just heard. This unwelcomed disobedience he expects from Sam, but Dean. Does he believe any of the threats to be true, hell no. Does he think Dean will take Sam and run, no; he's too smart to do such a thing. They'll come home as instructed, begging for forgiveness, but still, no crime can go unpunished. He told them two hours, plenty of time for them to get here, and if they're on time maybe he'd go easy, maybe.
The time ticks by. Hour one passes, John is drunk. Hour two comes along, he's plastered. By the third hour, he's passed out on the couch, completely oblivious of his sons' great escape.
The sun's rays shine in through thin curtains and into his eyes wake him. Slowly he opens his eyes to gradually expose them to the light, but a pounding in his skull makes it harder. Clumsily, he sits up, then waves his hand over the coffee table until he finds the pain pills, knocking empty bottles over in the popping two into his mouth, then gulping whatever of the now warm dark amber liquid is left, he downs both tablets at the same time. John scrubs a rough calloused hand down his face and holds it over his eyes as he takes another second to gain his bearings. Once sure his legs will cooperate, he stands with a grunt. He checks the wall clock behind him, it reads seven in the morning, give or take, so he calls out, " Dean." into an empty house. The way it's said, as an indefinite command, would've had Dean in front of him in moments, had he been there, then he shouts Sam's name the same way.
The lack of response or lack thereof tells John everything he needs to know, the boys never came home, that much he knows as all their belongings are still there in the house, meaning they have no money or supplies; so how long could they possibly last on their own, Then it hits him. Bobby, he's less than an hour away, and the boys trust him, more than they would ever trust John. If they needed any help whatsoever they'd no doubt go to him. Through the dark and trash, John manages to locate his cell, flip it open, then dial. It rings a few times before Bobby's voice comes through the phone. John explains the situation, well actually a version of it which obviously avoided the way he'd decided to discipline Sam. He tells Bobby that the boys decided to take off in the middle of the night without telling him, then asked if they were there. Yes, John knows his voice is probably not as clear as it would be if he weren't hungover, but he feels that he's done an adequate job of hiding it.
Even on the other end, Bobby can tell that there's more to the story than John's leading on, but he keeps his suspicions to himself. " I haven't seen em", he dismisses, " I let you know if I hear anythin' though"
John thanks the older man before hanging up and then angrily tossing the device to the ground, " Goddamnit!"
He plops back down to the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb, taking deep calming breaths. That's when he remembered, the first thing he did when handing off his car to Dean was put a LoJack on it, Good Thinking Winchester.
Bobby has always been on the boys' side, especially against their dad. That's why he calls Dean as soon as he hangs up with their father. Yes it's early, and Dean and Sam are most likely sleeping, but he needs the full unbutchered truth because he knew what John gave him wasn't that. The first time calling it rings but goes to voicemail, so he calls again and gets an answer this time.
" Hello," The voice is way past tired, and more than slightly annoyed.
" Dean, your dad called me."
Well, there it is. If you want to tell me how I did, leave a review, or don't. And let me know if you want a chapter five or not.
Oh, and I forgot to mention this before if it wasn't already obvious, but... Supernatural and his characters don't belong to me.