Where to Run

Chapter Three

For a long time nothing mattered. The pain was all he could feel when he was conscious. It was worse than anything he'd ever experienced. It drove him to the brink of madness and back again. There was no escape other than the brief moments he was able to retreat to the back corner of his mind.

Instinct eventually took over and soon found a weak point in the trap. The hunters had grown careless. Pushing against it with all his might he managed to break through. Taking in deep heaving breaths he managed to stagger to his feet and run.

Out the door. Up the stairs. Through the hallway. Past the stunned faces of his captors. Out the front door, down steps, and across the wet grass. The first thing he saw was the corn field and he bolted in that direction. The tall stalks could be used as cover.

But before he could get there he heard a shout, a bang, and then a flare of pain in his side that almost dropped him to his knees. There was a strange painful tug and he was suddenly down. Another flare of pain at his other side. Shouting. He staggered up and tried to walk, but the tug turned into firey pain and he couldn't.

So they hadn't gotten careless. It was all a set up. They wanted him to run for it. He went down like a rock, and stayed down. Probably just like they planned. He heard footsteps on the grass and more shouting. It sounded almost joyful. He felt his body seize like it had many times before and he waited for the hunters to catch up to him.

He was so finished.

But then there was another bang, a scream of pain, and then more footsteps. Two shadows whisked by him, coming from the corn field. His head thumped weakly in the dirt as his body stilled. A third shadow towered over him. And suddenly it stepped over him and didn't move. Eventually he was able to move his head to see what was next to him.

It was a boot. Inches from his bound hands. Sam's eyes drifted up the boot to the leg, and then up to the… whoever it was, faced away from him. You get the picture. Finally he managed to see the person's face and he flinched.

"Now I'm hallucinating." He croaked to himself.

"You're not hallucinating, Sammy, though I wish to God you where." Had he managed to say that out loud? That voice that answered, it was so familiar... Sam let his head drop back into the dirt. "Nobody hunts or hurts my baby brother." He didn't know how long it took, but eventually the gunshots and screaming stopped.

Above him, Dean pivoted and almost stumbled – at some point Sam had grabbed onto his jeans without realizing it. Dean shook his fingers loose and Sam opened his eyes just as Dean crouched down next to him. Sam didn't have the energy to move away or flinch, even though he felt his body tremble as if it wanted to, as Dean reached out to gently touch his cheek.

"You're a mess." Sam huffed a bit.

"He alive?" A gruff voice asked from behind. Sam flinched hard this time. "Guess so. Well shit." Suddenly the owner of the familiar voice was standing just behind Dean and Sam recognized Bobby.

Before anything else could happen Sam felt his body seize and his head flew back. "Shit!" He heard someone swear and when he came to again, there where hands. Holding him down on his side. He struggled weakly in them.

"He needs to be cleaned." Another voice said as the hands let him go. Except for Dean's. They stayed. Sam felt a shiver run up and down his spine. "From what I've seen in the basement, they've doused him in salt and holy water. There where also needles and tubes. What do you humans call them…"

"IV lines?" Dean asked. There was an affirmative grunt. "Anything else?"

"Just this." There was some cursing and Sam squinted his eyes to see Castiel – and there was that shiver again – holding a thick tube.

"Salt and holy water?" Bobby finally asked. Sam groaned – they where being too loud. "He's…?"

"I've seen it before. He is just about half demon. If he just…." The voices faded a bit and then suddenly Sam felt himself moving. He squirmed in protest.

"Easy Sasquatch." Dean's voice was in his ear. "Just me and Bobby." Sam felt his arms, which had been freed at some point, swing over their heads and hands cupped under each knee. "All right, Cas? Did you find a tub or shower?"

"Upstairs. First door to the left." It felt like he was floating as they carried him and he could barely keep track of what was going on, or what they where saying. Eventually he just closed his eyes. Only to snap them back open when he felt hands pulling at the tatters of his clothing.

"No!" He squirmed weakly.

"It's okay Sammy, it's just us." Suddenly he was on the floor, his head up and upper back resting on something. The hands continued to pull at his clothing, then they reached around his back and he let out a whimper.

"We have to get these spikes out." It was Bobby. Sam held still as the hands worked. He could see Dean's worried face hovering above him. "All set." There was a clatter and Sam twisted a bit to see a pair of ugly looking arrows on the other side of the bathroom.

"Okay Sammy, I'm going to put you in the tub now. We'll be using the showerhead to rinse you off. Hopefully that'll make you feel better." Sam grunted.

"Don't bother," He tried to say. "I'm a freak, not worth it." Dean frowned above him and lifted him up. "Let me die."

"Sammy, I don't understand what you're saying. You're just garbling here pal. Hold on." He was palced in the tub and his body seized again. When he was aware again, he felt warm water running over his body.

"Let me die." He tried to say again. This time it seemed like Dean understood – he frowned.

"Not happening." He said determinedly. "I'm going to spray your face off now – close your eyes." Sam did so and held his breath as the water hit his face. It stung, but soon it was gone. "You're a mess."

"Not worth it."

"Don't say that." He was shifted and the water sprayed his back. "Bobby has the med kit ready and Cas went to have a look around. You're going to be fine." Sam shook his head weakly. "Yes you will be." Sam sighed and just let Dean do whatever he wanted.

Eventually the water shut off and he was being lifted again. He was placed on a soft surface and then Bobby was there. "He looks like hell. Come on, let's get him patched up."

Sam felt the hands poke and prod him for a while, then he felt various wounds rubbed and stitched. He didn't have the energy to protest, and didn't offer any resistance when the hands dressed him in loose pants and a tee shirt. He was settled onto a bed and he sighed a bit.

With Dean settled in a chair next to him, talking to him softy, he left himself fade.

TBC