I Didn't Mean It
Times when Dean unintentionally hurt his brother.
Author's notes: This was rather hastily put together last night whilst on call, and as a result I haven't had much of a chance to polish it up for you, so I apologise if anything is amiss with the plot. Also, many thanks for all your support and wonderful reviews so far. They truly are most appreciated and I hope this latest story in the series continues to meet with all your Limp Sam needs.
Warning: Quite Sam-centric. My way of giving back what I hear Season 4 has taken away. Fairly dark, but I have read much, much worse, and for those of you who have a Sammy-bondage kink this is definitely for you!
Soul Man.
Dean forgets to pick his brother up from school, leaving Sam vulnerable, alone, and open for the attentions of a strange predator…
Dean 18, Sam 14.
(Many thanks to Devon99 for the plot bunny.)
Standing at the side of the road, Sam huffed and turned up his collar against the cold wind and rain. Glancing at his watch for the hundredth time, he shook his head in despair and started walking. It was the last thing he needed. Walking home in the rain, soaked to the skin, sneakers squelching as he trudged along and just to add to his woes a large truck swept by uncaring of the tidal wave it's tyres stirred up and washed over the already miserable teenager.
He knew it wasn't cool to even think it, after all he was a young adult, a hunter, tough, fully trained in unarmed combat and could disassemble and clean an AK47 assault rifle blindfolded. But he still thought it.
He so wanted to cry right about now.
This was the third time in less than a week that Dean had forgotten to pick him up after school. The first and second time Sam had called him on it and all he received for his troubles was his brother's typical sarcasm and 'it'll do ya good to walk.' Or 'ya need some fresh air anyways'.
Sam grimaced as the cold wind pressed his sodden shirt to his body, his jeans clinging to his legs like barnacles to a ship. There wasn't much he could do about it, so he resumed his trudging, head bent against the elements, rain water dripping off his chin.
It was the tingling feeling in his back, as though someone was watching him hard enough to bores holes in his skin that made him turn suddenly, anxious eyes darting round and studying the road in front and rear.
The only sound was rain drops hitting leaves and running off to fill the ruts and cracks in the broken tarmac. Nothing else.
And not another soul on the road. Just Sam.
Sam swallowed nervously. Just because he couldn't see any sign of trouble didn't mean there wasn't any; something wasn't right. In fact, something hadn't been right for days.
He knew he was being stalked, could feel the other's anticipation and excitement, could almost hear the blood pumping through veins hot with need. Sam hadn't said anything to his father; he would have laughed at him. Hell, Sam felt like laughing at first, thinking his over active imagination was playing tricks on him, but the feeling grew until it was all he could think about. He'd tried to tell Dean, but his brother just shrugged it off as some school girl's crush, a poor misguided classmate that wanted to get in Sam's boxers. In any case, Dean's own attention was completely taken up with the fairer sex of late, and in order to avoid being sick Sam was steering clear of the bedroom whenever Dean had company.
But right now he wanted to run. Run home, dive under the covers and not bother coming up for air.
"Hey son! You got the time?"
Sam turned to face a tall handsome guy in his late forties, dark hair with grey flecks, and dark brown eyes.
"Uh sure…" Sam didn't stop to think that the question was hardly very original; he didn't stop to wonder that the man had appeared from nowhere.
And he should have done.
He should have questioned everything about the stranger with the smile that didn't reach his eyes, eyes that were small with a predatory gleam of wanton intent. But he couldn't because that's how glamour spells work, hiding truth and reality but showing a friendly face with a harmless demeanour, and a completely innocent request.
"It's just passed…" Sam didn't even get to finish. A sharp pain in the back of his head and he was plunged into darkness, his school pack thudding to the ground.
The stranger chuckled gently, catching his prey before he pitched face first into a puddle.
"Can't have you getting muddy my little one." He gazed at the youngster lying unconscious in his arms and smoothed the dark, damp hair back from the kid's face. Smiling, the stranger cooed over his latest captive, his slight Eastern European accent evident. "Soooo pretty, so innocent. Knew it the first moment I saw you. I can't wait to taste you."
Backing up from the road, leaving the kid's pack where it fell, eyes sweeping around nervously, the guy moved with swift, sure and graceful steps, carrying the boy through the trees to a plain black van with windows tinted dark as midnight, well hidden from the road.
Sliding the door closed after him, he set about securing Sam with handcuffs and duct tape, all the while grinning gleefully.
Finishing on the kid's ankles, the stranger sat back to admire his latest victim.
Sam lay on his stomach, head to one side, wrists handcuffed tightly at the small of his back, and tape wound round his head several times, firmly sealing his mouth.
The guy frowned at the small cut leaking blood from the back of the boy's head. He hadn't meant to hit him that hard.
Can't damage the goods, no. No, I wouldn't like it if the goods were hurt. Not yet.
Reaching for the first aid kit and with a gentleness that would have surprised Sam had he been awake, the stranger cleaned and disinfected the head wound then covered it with sterile gauze. By the time he finished, his captive's eyelids were fluttering and a small moan escaped the duct tape.
Can't let you see me, no, not like this, no…
The spell was wearing off, he could feel it. It just wasn't strong enough, but with his new victim it soon would be again. His dark hair was slowly turning back to white, his smooth skin turning to wrinkles and age spots developed on the backs of his hands.
Grabbing a bandana from the glove compartment he wrapped the material over Sam's eyes, tying it tightly at the back of his head. The kid was stirring, trying to move and as his breathing picked up, heavy panicked breaths through his nose, it was clear he'd figured out he was tied up. The stranger watched with amusement when the prisoner began to struggle against his bonds, trying to cry out for help through the duct tape, and thrashing his head around to get rid of the blindfold.
"I really wouldn't bother if I were you boy." The stranger's voice sounded like an old tree creaking in the wind, and Sam stilled his movements. "You're going nowhere. You belong to me now."
Got to savour this child; he's special. But just one taste, just one, yes. Just to see me through...
He leaned over the boy. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance young Sam, however brief it might be. My name is Xavier, and whatever power you carry will be mine one day soon."
Xavier ran a finger down the side of Sam's face a fingernail nicking the soft flesh at the base of the boy's neck; Sam jerked and whimpered in shock. Swooping in, tongue darting out, Xavier licked and sucked at the tiny cut, moaning softly at the sweet, delicious young blood.
The boy resumed his struggles and tried to wriggle away, but Xavier reached out and grabbed his upper arms, rolling him onto his back. Sam grunted in discomfort as his cuffed wrists were crushed beneath him. Xavier climbed on top and straddled his captive, sucking harder at the kid's neck, hands wound in the damp hair holding Sam's head in place.
Sam's struggles became frantic and he screamed into the duct tape, panic rolling through him in waves. He couldn't seem to get enough air in through his nose, his heart pounded like a road drill and he began to feel dizzy and light headed. With a final muffled moan Sam passed out, head lolling limply in his kidnapper's grip.
Xavier suddenly pulled back, dropping the unconscious boy like a hot stone as he stared at his own hands. Already the skin was changing, brown spots fading, elasticity renewed as once again the youth spell swept back into his body. Xavier smiled, feeling lighter than he had in years. He'd taken the blood and souls of much younger boys but never had it worked so fast before.
I knew I'd made a good choice in this one. Maybe I'll keep him around a little longer, if this is what just a few drops of his blood is capable of.
He gave the boy a thorough once over, checking his pulse, making sure he could breathe easily, and sealed the cut on his neck with a piece of gauze and medical tape. Satisfied that his captive was otherwise healthy, Xavier slid behind the steering wheel, turned the key in the ignition and smoothly the van pulled away. He chuckled when he glanced in the wing mirror and saw the Impala pull up at the side of the road, the young guy in leather jacket, scruffy, worn jeans and Megadeth T-shirt, leaping out and staring frantically up and down the road. Xavier could feel the brother's panic and guilt even as he sped up, increasing the distance between Dean and his unconscious little brother. He'd been watching this family for days, knew what they were, but this had been too good a chance to pass up; Xavier would drain the boy of his blood, steal his soul, dump the body, and no one would be any the wiser.
Maybe I should have taken them both. No, too greedy, no, one's enough…this one's more than enough.
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Shit! Sam's gonna kill me.
"Sorry sweetheart, gotta go."
Dad's gonna kill me.
"I'll call ya later."
"But Dean…" the pretty blond crossed her legs, skirt riding up to reveal silky smooth skin that made Dean feel like chewing on his own fist. "Doncha wanna finish what we started the other night?"
It was the pretty pout that almost persuaded Dean to stay, but his kid brother was out there waiting for him in the rain, and already Dean was an hour late.
"Ah…'nother time. Rain check?" He glanced up at the heavily laden rain clouds with a small grin at the pun. Several inches had already been dumped on the small community in the last few hours and it looked like it had settled in for a long stay.
The girl shrugged and appeared to sulk until Dean leaned over and gently grasped her chin, pressing a chaste kiss to her full firm lips.
"Don't frown. Wind changes an' your face'll stay that way, and we wouldn't want that now would we." He grinned and kissed her again. "I'll see ya tomorrow night."
Winking at her when she smiled back, Dean hitched up the collar on his leather jacket and ran through the pouring rain, jumped behind the wheel, and set out to catch up with what he was certain to be a wet, scowling and extremely pissed off little brother.
Dean smirked. He'd make it up to him, buy him pizza, and maybe let Sam choose the movie tonight. Dad was at the library, sweet talking the old lady there into letting him look at the microfiche of newspaper articles dating back the last half century, which meant he was likely to be there long after closing. So Dean was on babysitting duty tonight, not that he really minded all that much. His little brother might be a geek but he was also pretty cool, and Dean hadn't been spending nearly enough time with him lately.
His grin faded as he approached the school entrance and Sam wasn't there. Dean had told Sam to wait for him and was forbidden to attempt the long walk home, but after an hour of standing around in the cold and rain, Dean couldn't blame him. After all, it was one way of keeping warm and he could soon pick him up on the way through.
Dean watched the road carefully whilst the windshield wipers swept across the glass and dumped rain water over the hood, but there was no sign of Sam. His frustration warred with concern, and soon lost the battle when Dean spotted a familiar looking object at the side of the road.
Heart sinking, Dean pulled the car over and left the engine idling as he raced round the hood and picked up the sodden school pack. Sam's school pack.
"Shit!" Dean's head swivelled to and fro, his eyes rapidly sweeping the area for any sign of his kid brother. "Sammy!" He stumbled forward, desperate for something, anything… "Sam!"
He barely registered a black van pulling on to the road from a side track a mile or so ahead, as his panic grew, eyes widened, movements quickened, he searched the immediate area. He checked the ditches on the sides of the road in case his brother had been the victim of a hit and run, but drew a blank and Dean wasn't sure if he felt relieved by that. He examined the ground closely for footprints, and eventually found two sets in the mud. It was a confusing mess but Dean soon formed a rough theory in his mind as he followed one set off the road and into the trees. Sam, and Dean recognised his huge footprints, had been approached on the road. Whoever it was had come out of the undergrowth, but the footprints returning to the tree line appeared deeper, as though the owner was carrying a heavy burden.
Tears welled up in Dean's eyes. He knew what, or rather who that burden had been.
"Sammy where are you?"
Refusing to let his fear dictate to him, Dean went back to the footprints and followed them into the trees, this time going all the way through until he reached a clearing on the other side. The footprints halted abruptly at a set of large tyre tracks and Dean just knew his kid brother had been abducted.
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"So how long?"
Dean shrugged at his father's question. "Could be anything up to an hour. I was running late again." He glanced at John's face, unable to read his expression. "I forgot I was picking him up tonight."
John said nothing, just crouched and stared at the tyre tracks, frowning deeply.
"We're talking about some kind of van or truck, but I'm gonna go with van. Easier to hide Sam from anyone that might be passing by." He kept his voice neutral for Dean's sake, not wanting the kid to panic any more than he already was, but in truth John was pretty much on the verge of a full blown hissy fit himself right now. "Must've subdued him somehow, may be knocked him out."
"Yeah." Bobby Singer's voice made both Winchester's turn to face him. "I came prepared." He held up a large medical kit. "Just in case."
John nodded at the implication. "We got less than twenty four hours, after that the chances of finding Sam alive will start to fall, and the odds are already stacked against us." He gritted his teeth at his own words when he felt Dean tense up beside him. "You sure you saw nothin' else? No other cars on the road, no one out walking a dog?"
"No n…" Dean blinked as something came back to him. It was a long shot but… "Dad there was van. Black with tinted windows pulling on to the road a ways ahead of me." He started walking then broke into a run, following the tyre tracks out of the clearing. Dean sped up when he saw the main road ahead, doubling his efforts, and crashed to his knees on the roadside, sobbing miserably. His brother had been right there. Whilst Dean was picking up the school pack, Sam was being bundled into that black van by some monster, and Dean had just missed him.
"Dean, its ok son." He felt his father's hand squeeze his shoulder and got to his feet, uncaring of the wet mud on his jeans.
"No it's not Dad. He was right here." Dean raised his tear-stained gaze to John's face. "Sam was right here, may be hurt and in danger and that…that bastard…" he choked back another sob. "I'll just bet he was laughing at me, probably looked right at me and knew who I was. Sam told me days ago he felt watched. What if it's the same person?"
John let that sink in for a second and tamped down his anger. Yelling at Dean wouldn't help them find Sam and it would only waste precious time.
Bobby stood by watching silently as John tried to console his oldest son.
"But we now have new info." John insisted. "We know where he was hiding, laying in wait and because of that we also know what vehicle he was driving."
"Not a lot to go on Dad."
"No? How many black vans with tinted windows you seen round here lately?" John raised an eyebrow as Dean thought about that.
"Just that one." Dean nodded slowly. "So we ask around."
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The slow pull to consciousness wasn't a pleasant experience, but what was worse was waking up and not knowing where in hell he was. Sam didn't move for a long time, feeling too weak and drained to do much more than just lay there in the dull light.
Blinking and realising he was no longer gagged or blindfolded, curiosity eventually got the better of him and he managed to sit up slowly and carefully, sighing with relief when he also discovered that the handcuffs had been removed and he could move freely….right up until the manacle at his ankle pulled the chain tight with a metallic clink. He gave it an experimental tug but the chain was welded to a loop embedded in the cement wall.
Speaking of which, a closer inspection of his surroundings revealed that he was sitting on a mattress on the floor of some kind of basement; the only light came from some dim and pathetic light bulb at the top of the stairwell. Sam could just make out the basement door in the shadows cast by the tiny bulb and didn't need to be told it was securely locked.
Fear suddenly slammed into him, squeezing all air from his lungs, as he realised that his clothes were different. He'd been wearing jeans and a T-shirt under his denim jacket, but now he was dressed in dark grey sweats, feet bare, and all his personal effects missing. Including his watch.
Including his cell phone.
Shit!
A loud click-clunk had Sam scuttling backwards, pressing himself as close to the wall as he could, and almost praying he could disappear through it. Loud, slow footsteps descended the stairwell and Sam shivered with apprehension as someone came into view and stopped. The silence was just as unnerving and Sam suddenly found himself blinded by light.
A flashlight. That's all it was. A very powerful flashlight. A couple of chinks and something was placed on the floor next to his mattress; it looked like a plate of bread and metal mug.
Blinking up at the guy, Sam opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. His throat was too dry and sore and he really didn't have much energy.
"You need to eat. Keep your strength up." Sam recognised the strangely accented voice as the man who called himself Xavier, the guy who had kidnapped him. "If you don't you will become worthless to me, and I will no longer wish to keep you alive."
Sam swallowed nervously. "Wha…what do you want with me?"
Xavier crouched down, setting the flashlight upright so that its beam shone on the ceiling. Sam could see Xavier's face now and something just looked…wrong. He was older, so much older.
"You see. Yes, you do." Xavier nodded and smiled. "Youth. I need your blood to stay young, to reinforce my spells…and eventually, my sweet boy, I will take your soul." He sounded sad and apologetic and that made Sam feel sick. But now his voice took on an edge of excitement and enthusiasm "You are so different from all the others, your blood so sweet and powerful; I've never tasted anything like it. I want to keep you alive as long as possible Sam, just to savour the experience, but you will die I'm afraid. It is unfortunate but that's the way it has to be."
Sam stared at him wide-eyed. Did the guy just expect him to sit there and accept his fate? Was he insane?
"What are you?"
Xavier grinned as he stood and headed for the stairwell, leaving the flashlight on the floor. "I'm a Soul Man."
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Hours had passed and they still hadn't made much progress. No one in the small town could recall seeing a black van with tinted windows, and Dean slumped against the Impala, trying to reign in his fears. His Dad was still speaking with the local law enforcement, pretending to be a journalist working on an article about gas guzzling cars and their effects on the environment. Bobby was talking shop with the chief mechanic at the garage, and Dean had just finished up at the bar. He felt so tired but couldn't bring himself to take a break, not with Sam missing. Dean tried not to think about what could be happening to his brother right now and decided to go grab the strongest cup of coffee he could find.
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Sam turned the flashlight so he could actually see what was on the plate. It looked like a sandwich of some description and his stomach complained loudly at being empty when there was perfectly good food sitting there waiting to be devoured.
But was it good food? Could it be drugged? Poisoned?
Sam shook his head at that. Xavier had made it plain he wanted him alive and in good shape. He shuddered when he recalled the reason why and touched a hand to the bandage on his neck. That he remembered quite plainly, being fed off.
"Need to eat if I'm gonna escape," Sam glanced at the metal cuff on his ankle with a frown. "Though how is a good question."
He shrugged and picked up the sandwich, taking a huge bite and chewing slowly. It was actually really good. Roast beef and fresh salad with just a touch of mayonnaise; one of Sam's favourites, and he chewed with a little more enthusiasm until there wasn't one crumb left. Sam gulped back the contents of the mug, which was just plain old water, washing down the sandwich.
Now that he felt a little better Sam picked up the flashlight and began exploring his prison at the end of the chain. Which the exception of his corner, the basement was filled with all kinds of crap; old furniture, a 1940s style typewriter, and even an old sewing machine.
He swept the beam over the rest of the room, not entirely sure what he was looking for. A weapon may be, or something to get him out of the ankle cuff.
Someone must have been watching over him because a dull gleam caught the light in the corner of the room and he moved closer.
"No way!" He breathed quietly, unable to believe his luck. It looked like a paperclip. A small smile worked its way on to Sam's face.
Laying down on his stomach and stretching out as best he could, Sam reached for the small clip. It was just out of his reach and Sam tried harder, wriggling and stretching a little more, grunting with the effort, muscles cramping up…
…and suddenly he was there, his fingers curling round his very own key to freedom.
Not giving himself any time to relax and get his breath back, Sam eagerly pulled open the paperclip and began tackling the lock on the manacle. A tiny click and it popped open, releasing Sam's ankle, and he climbed to his feet, running up the stairwell as quietly as he could.
Listening at the door for any sound of movement, Sam gripped the paperclip and slipped it into the keyhole, expertly manoeuvring his makeshift lock pick and tentatively feeling his way round. Another few seconds and the lock gave a loud clunk and Sam winced, holding still for a minute to see if he'd attracted the Soul Man's attention.
Sam snorted quietly. Soul man? Did he think he was being funny? What a jerk!
It seemed he was clear and Sam eased the door open, keeping his ears strained for the slightest sound and peering through the small gap.
So far so good.
He slipped silently out of the basement and crept along a dark hallway, and right at the other end was the main door to the house. Or as Sam saw it, his door to the outside world.
Moving quickly and silently, Sam was soon lifting the latch and sliding out into the night. Running swiftly across the ill-kept lawn, he studied the neighbourhood. It was nothing like the small town the Winchesters and Bobby had been staying in and Sam wondered just how far away Xavier had taken him from his family.
These houses had seen better days, paint peeling off the guttering, tiles missing from roofs and rotting verandas with broken down porch swings. Xavier didn't seem the type to settle for such squalor but then Sam didn't know him very well and really had no desire to.
Crouched and waiting to make a run for it, Sam eyed a few passing cars, noting that there was no vehicle in the Xavier's driveway.
Perhaps he's gone out for the evening?
No such luck. A large calloused hand clamped over Sam's mouth and he was dragged backwards against a solid chest, arms pinned to his sides as he struggled uselessly. The guy was frighteningly strong and soon had Sam tightly restrained in his arms.
"Shouldn't have done that boy." Xavier whispered in Sam's ear, tightening his hold and eliciting a muffled whimper from his captive. "I've been watching you for days, waiting for my chance to take you. I'm not letting you go so easily after all I went through. No. Never."
Sam was effortlessly lifted off his feet and carried back inside the house, the front door slamming shut like a tomb. He could barely breathe and Xavier made it all the worse for him by pinching off his nose between thumb and forefinger. Sam's eyes bulged as he tried desperately to suck air into his already burning lungs and figured this was it. Xavier was going to kill him right here and now.
So distracted and weakened by the lack of oxygen he barely noticed that Xavier had ripped the gauze off his neck, re-opened the wound with his tongue and began sucking. Hard. Sam blinked and tried to squirm free, earning a low chuckle from the guy. This time round Xavier didn't pull any punches, just widened the cut with his teeth, tearing at Sam's flesh. The kid would have screamed into Xavier's hand but he had no air left and Xavier still hadn't released his nose.
Sam's eyelids slid to half mast and he stopped struggling, having run out of reserves, just hung limply in Xavier's tight embrace, listening to the obscene sucking and gleeful grunting as Sam's blood was consumed with relish.
Xavier only took so much, just enough to leave his captive weak and unable to fight, but it tasted, felt so damn good. Partially suffocating the boy had sped up his heart rate, making it easier to access the pulsing red liquid. He relaxed his hold on the kid who would have slid bonelessly to the kitchen floor without Xavier to hold him up.
But Xavier was still mad as hell. He'd nearly lost the fine prize he'd been waiting for all his life, and suddenly it no longer mattered to him if the kid was damaged in some way, just so long as he lived. Dragging the semi-conscious boy out of the kitchen and down the hallway, Xavier opened the basement door and pushed his captive inside, nudging him until Sam rolled down the stairwell.
The kid didn't even cry out when his leg snapped, didn't utter a sound as his head smashed repeatedly into wooden step after wooden step. He just came to rest, sprawled out on the basement floor, now completely unconscious.
Xavier stood at the top of the stairwell, his sharp, white hot temper already starting to cool.
Oh God, what have I done no? No! Not right!
And that's when he knew he was in trouble. Having had a taste of his blood, Xavier was starting to care about the kid.
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John left the sheriff's office trying not to build up too much hope. No one had seen a black van with darkened windows in this town, but in a town a few miles over it was a different story. Someone driving a vehicle matching the van's description had been pulled over for a broken tail light; the sheriff couldn't go into specifics but John caught a glimpse of a name on the computer screen when the officer's back was turned.
Xavier Romanov, aged 88, recently moved to the area, renting a house in the South East side of the town. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to get a full address as the sheriff turned back to him with two steaming mugs of coffee, and they continued their discussion about fast cars and exhaust emissions.
John frowned as he headed towards the bar where he planned to meet Dean and Bobby. The guy was 88; could he really have abducted Sam that easy? The kid was skilled in tae kwon do so it was highly unlikely, but it was the only lead they had right now, and it was always worth checking out the unlikely. Time was running out and they had to move fast.
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When Sam came round he found himself back under restraint, sitting up and leaning against a wall. His leg was throbbing in something close to pain but he couldn't reach out to check it. The handcuffs were back on, securing his wrists behind him, and so were the gag and blindfold, though he noted with some relief that the gag wasn't tape this time. Just soft material pulled tight between his teeth. He shifted sluggishly, his body refusing to fire on all four cylinders and he grunted in frustration.
"Don't try to move," Xavier's softly accented voice came at him from close by, making Sam jump with nerves. "Aside from being tied up again, a measure I didn't wish to take but you forced my hand, your left leg is broken. You...fell down the basement steps. I have splinted and bound the limb but you must keep it still. The reason you can't feel too much is a combination of my feeding off you last night and the morphine I've just given you. You'll find it will all settle down in a little while."
Sam just moaned weakly in response, unable to do much more.
"I'll be back later with some soup; it'll help build your strength back up."
Another small moan, though Sam really wanted to flip the guy off. He vaguely heard footsteps retreating up the stairwell and the thud of the door being shut, and Sam knew he was all alone.
That feeling came back.
He really fucking wanted to cry about now. Was this guy some kind of vampire? But that didn't feel right. Not in the true sense of the word.
Sam wondered if his family were out looking for him, if they were scared for him or just plain angry for disappearing on them. Dean was probably tearing his hair out right now and blaming himself for this, his father and Bobby would already be knee deep in the hunt and not yet noticed his absence. It worried Sam that he couldn't for the life of him remember what the hunt was for, but then he wasn't exactly in the best of shape and it didn't really matter.
Deciding there wasn't much else he could do, Sam slumped down on the mattress and tried to get some sleep.
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Xavier released the spell on his appearance shortly before exiting the van. He found that people round here tended to respond well to some sweet little old man, and it made getting what he needed much easier.
The local convenience store was tiny but well stocked and Xavier pulled tins of soup from the shelves and added a loaf of bread. Smiling at the cashier, Xavier chatted away with the young girl about the weather, how pretty she was looking today, and how if he were a few years younger he'd be showing her a good time. She giggled prettily at the old man's flattery, patting his arm and thanking him.
Strolling out to the van and dumping his groceries inside, something caught his eye. A black Chevy Impala cruised into town and Xavier ducked out of sight, recognising the driver immediately. Sam's brother. Following on behind, was a large black truck driven by the boy's father which Xavier squinted at in admiration. He had to give this family their due; they certainly had good taste in cars.
Xavier grimaced at the old heap driven by the family friend however and disappeared inside a book shop, pretending to browse through some old angling magazines at the back.
So they'd tracked him this far. It surprised him, he had to admit; he knew they were good, but still…
It was time Xavier and his young prisoner got the hell outta dodge.
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Bobby had kept an eye on the black van whilst Dean and John scouted the nearby stores for the owner, but it seemed the old codger had disappeared into thin air.
Scratching the back of his neck Bobby scanned the parking lot, the storefronts and finally settled his gaze back on the van just as the owner showed up.
And judging from his behaviour Bobby was more than convinced he was responsible for Sam's disappearance. Xavier Romanov kept sending furtive glances all around whilst he unlocked the van, as though worried someone was going to catch him in some illegal act.
Something weird was going on. Bobby blinked and could swear someone younger had been flickering in and out, the elderly man disappearing for a few seconds. And suddenly Bobby knew what they were dealing with.
A Soul Man. A form of witch that only maintained their powers by drinking the blood of the young, finally consuming their souls at the last stage and completing the spell. One soul could last them an average of five years before they started searching for their next victim, preferably healthy and almost always a budding psychic. Soul Men were often fairly ancient – Bobby was willing to bet he could add on another couple hundred years to Romanov's quoted age easy - and as they aged they spent more of the stolen energy on keeping their young appearance through a glamour spell, needing more and more as time moved on. It wasn't real but it could fool a person into thinking it was. Also, Soul Men weren't immortal but they were hideously strong, all of which explained how he'd managed to get the drop on Sam.
And there was only one thing that would kill them. Consecrated iron rounds.
Without taking his eyes off the old guy, Bobby flipped open his cell and made the call he'd been dreading.
There was a strong possibility that Sam was already dead, but Bobby conveniently forgot to mention that to the Winchesters.
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When Sam woke up again, something had changed. For a start his wrists were now cuffed in front of him, giving him a little more freedom, but he was also wrapped in a nice soft, warm blanket.
"You were cold. Can't afford for you to fall ill." Xavier pulled the cloth from Sam's mouth, but left the blindfold in place. "Open your mouth."
"Please…let me go…" Sam wasn't above begging by now and just wanted to go free. He was desperate to see his brother; he'd missed Dean so much these last few months as it was, what with Dean's ambition to screw his way through the entire child-bearing female population of America, but right now Sam needed to see his face and hear his voice.
"I said open. Don't make me force this soup down your throat; it is rather hot and I wouldn't want you to burn your mouth." Though the guy's voice was soft there was a hard edge to it.
Sam nodded wearily. He knew that once a threat was issued Xavier would make good on it if Sam didn't do as he was told. He opened his mouth obediently.
The chicken noodle soup tasted good and Sam had to admit that in spite of everything, Xavier was taking good care of him. The only times he'd been rough on him was during his capture and after the escape attempt.
Sam just couldn't figure the guy out.
He accepted a few mouthfuls of bread and greedily drank the offered water, until Xavier warned him to slow down in case he was sick. Sam had a truck load of questions for his abductor but it became clear that Xavier wasn't interested in providing answers, because as soon as Sam finished his meal the cloth was gently shoved back in his mouth and tied at the back of his head. He was startled when an arm slipped round his back, another sliding under his knees and he was lifted up, still encased in the blanket, and cradled against Xavier's chest. The fresh gauze on his neck was removed and Sam tensed just as that familiar awful sensation came. Xavier was feeding off him again though it didn't hurt as much as last time, but Sam began to panic as he grew light headed and whimpered into his gag; Xavier was taking too much, on top of what he'd already taken from Sam the previous night.
Sam pushed at him weakly with his cuffed hands, silently begging him to stop, but finally, to Sam's relief, the feeding session was over and then he was moving.
"Your family came looking for you today, asking questions about me, and showing photographs of you to people in the street." Xavier heard Sam's breath hitch slightly as he carried him carefully up the basement steps. "I cannot allow them to find you. We leave tonight."
He said no more on the subject and what was Sam supposed to say to that anyhow? Sure? Ok, let's go? How 'bout you set me down here with my cell phone, and you leave town?
Except of course he couldn't say anything, see anything and couldn't fucking move!
Part of that was soon remedied when the blindfold came off. Sam blinked at the over harsh light then focussed his attention on the black van with darkened windows, and his heart sank. Obviously, Xavier had carried him into the garage through an interior door because Sam would have noticed the change in air temperature if they'd gone outside. And besides, it would be too risky to carry a bound and gagged prisoner out the front door for all the world to see.
Sam ran his eyes over the van one more time. It would be almost impossible to see through the glass; his family could walk right by and never know he was there.
The sliding door stood open, silently waiting for its human cargo. Xavier set the boy down inside, then grabbed his cuffed hands and threaded a length of chain through, padlocking it in place. Sam's eyes tracked the chain, following it to a large piece of hardwood that was firmly fixed to the floor of the van, and sighed in despair. He wasn't getting out of here under his own steam that was for sure. Xavier was taking no chances on Sam escaping again, though it was rather a moot point with the broken leg and all.
His captor adjusted the blanket upwards, tenderly brushing Sam's hair out of his eyes, and smiled sadly.
"I will try to make you as comfortable as possible but the journey will be long; I can't risk exceeding the speed limit, not with you on board." He watched as Sam's eyes widened, fixed on the syringe and needle. "Relax boy. This is just a small dose of morphine to keep the pain at bay. Understand?"
Sam nodded, blinking hard. Now that he mentioned it, his leg was starting to make itself known again and Sam really didn't want to spend the next God knew how long in agony. But he still watched the needle suspiciously, wondering if it was just Xavier's way of keeping him quiet during their travels.
"I'll leave off the blindfold for now." Xavier explained as though giving Sam some sort of reward for not kicking up a fuss so far. "But the gag must remain I'm afraid. If you woke up whilst I was refuelling you could attract someone's attention."
But Sam's eyes were already drooping under the influence of the morphine.
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"Bobby where are ya?"
"I'm right outside the bastard's house. Can ya see me?"
Dean peered over the top of a garden wall and squinted into the darkness. He smiled grimly. "Yep, I gotcha."
Bobby was hiding in the shadows of a large oak tree, watching the house. At the other end of the street and hidden out of sight John was waiting in the truck just in case Romanov managed to get through once Bobby and Dean stormed inside.
Dean's heart was in his throat as he waited for the signal. He hadn't eaten or slept properly since Sam went missing, unable to swallow anything down into the volcano pit that masqueraded as his stomach these days.
God Sammy please be ok.
Sam was never walking home from school ever again. Sam was never walking to the store alone ever again. Sam was never going outside to empty the trash ever again.
Sam was never going anywhere on his own….ever again.
As soon as Sammy was back with him, safe and sound, he was going to have a permanent shadow in the form of his older brother. Dean had already forgotten about the blond waiting for his call; the gorgeous legs and tempting cleavage had faded from his list of priorities. The only person he could think about right now was Sam, and he hoped like hell his little brother wasn't hurt or mistreated in anyway.
"What the…?"
"Bobby?"
"Dean move! The garage door just opened; he's taking off!"
"Fuck!"
Dean leapt over the wall, weapon drawn and raced at full speed towards the house, but the van was already screeching out the driveway and heading off.
"Damnit!" Dean carried on running after it, his heart telling him that Sam was inside. The van disappeared round a bend in the road and Dean sent a note of thanks heavenward that his father was waiting not far ahead. A loud squeal of tyres had Dean picking up speed as he rounded the same bend, and sure enough John's truck was parked across the road, blocking the van's passage.
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Xavier swore loudly when he realised the house was under surveillance by Sam's family, and stomped his foot down hard on the throttle. They'd hidden themselves well but Xavier's quietly muttered revelation spell had exposed them. Though if he'd thought about it, he might have wondered where the boy's father had gotten to.
Racing down the road, he could see Dean sprinting along after him and grinned. No way would the older brother catch up with him now…
Quick reflexes and decent brakes prevented him from piling into the side of the big black truck parked askew on the road. Xavier drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and was about to reverse up but a loud rumbling from behind had him turning in his seat to see Bobby's vehicle blocking his final escape.
Xavier popped the lid on the glove compartment and removed a Browning 9mm. Leaping into the back of the van, he quickly released the padlock keeping Sam chained to the floor and snatched the drugged boy up in his arms just as the sliding door was yanked open.
"Don't make me use this," Xavier spoke quietly and Dean froze at the sight of his brother, gagged and bound, with the barrel of a pistol wedged firmly against his temple.
"What've you done to him?" Dean's gaze swept over his seemingly unconscious little brother, eyes hardening when they took in the splint. "What the hell happened to his leg?"
"That was regretful and should not have happened." Sam's captor seemed genuinely concerned but Dean couldn't give a damn. "He tried to escape and I had to take action to ensure he wouldn't attempt it again."
Dean tried to stop himself but the words just spilled out of their own accord. "You sick bastard! You broke his leg?"
"T'was an accident I assure you…"
"What? You had to hurt him? You couldn't have just drugged him instead?" Dean yelled still unable to stay quiet. His brother was frighteningly pale, breathing a little too shallow for comfort and Dean was beginning to despair. In his peripheral vision he could see his father moving silently across the open road to the van, but sliding out of view to the opposite side, effectively aiming for the van wall directly at Xavier's back.
Xavier's form flickered between young and old, young and old, as his power began to deteriorate. He'd need to feed again soon and if he didn't he would lose Sam, and his family would kill him. Keeping his hostage in place as a human shield, Xavier lowered his mouth to Sam's neck, teeth pulling at the bandage and never taking his eyes off Dean. The slightest move the older boy made meant a regretful punishment for the younger brother.
"What the fuck are ya doin' to him? Leave him alone!" Dean watched helplessly as Sam's eyes fluttered open. The Soul Man had latched on to Sam's neck and began to feed, still managing to keep the pistol jammed against the boy's head. Sam bucked weakly against his captor, whimpering in pain. Xavier's one regret was hearing the boy suffer and wished he'd given him a larger dose of morphine since the last one was already wearing off. But now it was time.
Xavier pulled back just enough to whisper "I'm sorry Sam, but it's either you or me."
And went back to take one final drink before he would take Sam's soul.
Hurry Dad! Dean wanted to shoot the bastard right there and then but couldn't risk hitting his brother, or Xavier squeezing the trigger on the Browning. All he could do was wait until John was in position…
"Sammy!" Dean sobbed as Sam's pleading eyes fell on him, slightly unfocussed and filled with pain. "Just hold on!" But he could tell that his little brother was dying.
Sam's eyes began to dull, the light fading, but he kept his gaze stubbornly on Dean, mouth working round the gag as if trying to speak.
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He had no idea if this was going to work; they were all working well beyond the realms of the original planned rescue attempt, like an actor without a script, and the strain was beginning to show. John closed his eyes, ear pressed firmly to the metal and concentrated all his efforts on listening. He had to get this just right, accurate to within a millimetre or Sam would die. And judging by the heart rending muffled words coming from the van, it would have to be quick because Xavier was obviously feeding off his youngest, and probably for the last time.
Taking a deep breath and placing the muzzle of the high powered, custom built shotgun to the side of the van, John squeezed the trigger.
The loud boom was deafening, consecrated iron tearing through metal, sinew and bone, and John was thrown backwards by the recoil, hitting the ground shoulder first. He winced and got to his feet, racing round the van just as Bobby jumped out of his truck.
Dean was pulling the cloth out of Sam's mouth, having already picked the lock on the handcuffs. Both boys were dripping with blood and brain matter but that wasn't the most disturbing part.
"Bobby, call 911." John climbed up inside the van and knelt next to his sons, pushing Xavier's body aside. Dean cradled Sam gently in his arms, tilting his head back to make breathing easier on the poor kid. Sam looked shocking, face virtually bloodless and lips tinged with a distressing blue. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest accompanied by a hitched wheezing noise in his throat convinced John the boy was even alive.
Placing a hand over Sam's forehead, John whispered words of comfort meant for both his sons, then caught Dean's eye. "Ya did good son. Tough call not to open fire on the bastard, but ya did good."
Dean held his gaze for a long moment before turning his attention back to his brother. "Wouldn't have come to this if I'd picked him up from school when I was s'posed to." He muttered sadly, eyes glistening with moisture. "He could still die."
"Uhuh." John nodded his own eyes suspiciously bright. There was no point in lying to him and Sam did look close to death. "But on the other hand he might live."
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Watching Sam sleep was significantly less boring than Dean thought it would be. But then, he was still euphoric over the fact his little brother was going to live, in spite of having been drained of almost every drop of blood.
That was no exaggeration according to his doctor, almost every drop of blood, and Dean's own arm throbbed in remembrance of the blood donation from hell. He smirked when he thought that somewhere in the hospital Bobby Singer was recovering from a dead faint, though in all honesty Dean felt grateful the old man insisted on donating another pint.
The medical staff was still in a state of shock that Sam was alive at all but kept up the professional front as they'd whisked him away to radiology for a scan, then emergency surgery to fix his leg.
The leg in question was now encased in a proper cast and raised up on some pillows, but its owner had yet to sign in with the rest of the family. Dean stroked Sam's cheek, glad to see a trace of colour making its way back, the tube running under his nose delivering badly needed oxygen. His body had gone into shock at one stage, Sam nearly crashing and needing artificial respiration to keep him breathing but that scary machine was gone now, probably plugged into some other poor bastard desperately clinging to life.
John, once he'd given a few pints of his own blood, had taken care of the police, more or less telling the truth about the whole situation. The only thing he left out was the fact Xavier had lied about his age somewhat – ahem - and was actually a kind of witch that needed blood to survive and keep up his powers. The police just assumed the guy was a lunatic that got his kicks from kidnapping young boys and drinking their blood; John hadn't seen the point in correcting them.
Dean's gazed sharpened when Sam's eyes started moving around under the lids, eyebrows twitching in a semi-frown.
"S'ok Sammy. You can wake up now." Dean whispered and started smiling at the barest slither of blue-green catching the dim light of the reading lamp. "That's it buddy….hey, welcome home."
Sam finally blinked awake but immediately shifted in a panic, trying to scramble away.
"Whoa! Take it easy kiddo," Dean got out of his seat and perched on the bed, holding him still and running a soothing hand through Sam's hair as his eyes darted about frantically, "You're safe here, Xavier's gone. Remember?"
"I…" Sam swallowed hard, shaking with blatant fear. "Where…" He couldn't seem to finish a coherent sentence, his breathing coming in short gasps as though he'd just been running a marathon.
"Ssshhhh Sammy, look at me." Dean cupped Sam's face and gently forced his frightened eyes to lock with his. "Listen to my voice ok? Can you hear me?"
Still shaking, Sam's nod was a jerky almost out of control movement and Dean continued talking softly, constantly reassuring his little brother he was safe.
"You're in a hospital. Perfectly safe here. Your leg's broken but they've fixed you up and you'll be as good as new in no time." Another quick smile. "Not to mention you got some of my awesome blood so don't be surprised if you show a superhuman trait, like getting a date with a hot nurse."
Sam's mouth began to curl up into a smile at that, but Dean could tell he was still badly frightened. His next words confirmed it.
"Don't leave me? Pl…please?" He whispered back, tears gathering in his eyes. "Ssssso sc…scared. He t…told me I was g…gonna die…an…an' he w..wouldn't st…stop feeding…" Sam's shaking grew more violent if at all possible, his words broken and distorted as he struggled to breathe through the panic.
"It's ok Sammy. I've never leaving you again, I promise." Dean shifted round so he could hold Sam close and gently rub his back; resting his chin on Sam's scalp he prayed that some of his words were getting through. "I'm sorry kiddo; it won't happen again. From now on you're gonna hafta put up with me haunting your every move 'cos I just aint ready to let ya outta my sight."
At first he didn't think Sam had heard him but then the quietly spoken "good, I won't mind that at all" made him smile.
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"Here ya go," Dean handed back the other crutch. He'd wrapped some thick wadding round the palm rests so his brother wouldn't develop anymore blisters on his hands. Sam smiled shyly and whispered a quiet thankyou, before hobbling across the room testing out the 'custom' job as Dean proudly put it.
"Well? How's it feel?" Dean studied his brother trying not to look too worried though he was constantly worried about him these days.
"It's great. It really works." Sam flashed him a genuine happy smile and Dean relaxed a little. It was good to see that dimpled smile, however fleeting, though the time it spent on Sam's face was growing longer. "Thanks Dean."
"You're welcome little bro."
Sam still jumped whenever someone came barging abruptly into the room, and he hated sleeping with the bedroom door shut. Sam refused pain killers when he was first released from hospital, too afraid that they'd knock him out and Xavier Romanov would freely stalk his dreams. Dean soon managed to talk him out of that, assuring him that the pain killers were just there to take the edge off.
He was a far cry from normal, still suffering from post-traumatic stress and the nightmares that came with it, but after finally telling John, Dean and Bobby about his ordeal in captivity, no one could honestly blame him. Was even amazed the kid had bounced back at all.
But that was his Sammy; never could keep him down for long. Dean gently teased him, just big brother stuff, coaxing the odd chuckle out of him, and generally taking charge of Sam's recovery. He took the doctor's advice seriously about getting back to normal but letting Sam set the pace, and Dean was pleased with the result. Day by day, little by little, he was gradually getting his kid brother back.
The brothers had cleared the air a little too, which helped. Dean couldn't apologise enough and Sam put a stop to it with a small lecture of his own. He explained that Xavier claimed to have been watching him for some time, waiting for a chance to take him. If it hadn't it happened on the road there would have been numerous other opportunities, maybe when it could've be harder to trace him, and Sam was just glad they found him in time.
John eased Dean's burden by not bringing up the matter of leaving Sam waiting outside the school, effectively offering him up to Xavier on a plate. Dean had enough to deal with right now and John saw no benefit in stepping on the point and deepening his guilt trip. He'd taken the boys back to Bobby Singer's salvage yard, seeing as it was the closest base nearby. Pastor Jim Murphy had been informed and was currently making his way across country to offer his counsel. John knew Sam was looking forward to his visit and hoped his son would find the answers he needed to put Xavier to rest for good.
No one talked about why Sam had been chosen or why he'd been kept alive; as Bobby had pointed out the victims tended to be young and psychic, but so far Sam hadn't shown any signs of the latter. All Sam knew was that Xavier had thought his blood special, and wanted to keep him alive because of the sheer power it gave him.
It set off alarm bells in John's head but he wisely kept that to himself. At first he'd thought it was something to do with Sam being a universal recipient, as the doctor explained when everyone was frantically donating to keep Sam alive, and could take pretty much any blood type. But John wasn't so sure now; something was niggling at him and it would be many years before he even had a clue.
Still, Sam was alive and his brother was helping him in all the ways that were needed. John had to be grateful for that.
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"Hello Sam." Pastor Jim waited in the doorway for permission to enter the bedroom, where Sam was seated at the window, crutches on standby, and a small frown on his face. "May I come in?"
"Uh…sure." Sam's smile was sad and confused, and the Pastor's heart went out to the youngster in his troubled times.
"How are things round here? Bobby's cooking improved at all?" Jim grinned when Sam smirked.
"Nah, same as always."
"Oh dear. Still, at least he's consistent."
"Yeah, he still either undercooks or outright burns the food." Sam started to relax a little under the Pastor's watchful eye. "Dean doesn't seem to mind though."
"Your brother'll eat anything; he's a talking garbage can on legs." Jim nodded in amusement and Sam chuckled his agreement.
They both sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments but Jim could sense the youngster had something on his mind. He didn't have long to wait.
"Pastor Jim? Can I ask you something?"
"Sure Sam. You can ask me anything, ya know that." he smiled. "So long as it's not the one about where babies come from."
Another quick genuine smile and Sam was truly relaxing.
"Uh…" Sam was picking nervously at his fingernails. "One thing I don't get about Xavier. He was always so….I dunno how to describe it….gentle? He never let me starve or go without water, and apart from when I tried to escape he looked after me, made sure I wasn't in any pain. Why bother going to such lengths? He was going to kill me anyhow, even told me that right from the start, so why did I matter so much to him? I was just another meal."
Jim thought about that long and hard before answering as honestly as he could.
"Not all Soul Men, or even Soul Women for that matter, are born evil. Most live normal lives and die in the natural course of time, refusing to take an innocent life for their own ends. And some, and I believe Xavier to be one of these, never wanted to become a part of it, but were somehow forced into such a way of life. All it takes is one soul and you're hooked on the power, the glamour of it all. It's like an illegal narcotic; one taste and you become a slave to it." Jim watched the expressions crossing Sam's face and nodded to himself. The kid was beginning to understand. "I don't think, from what you've told me, that Xavier liked what he was doing, even hated having to kill in order to survive. There's a fair chance he'd once been an extremely kind and giving human being, but once he got a taste he couldn't go back and made up all kinds of excuses to justify his actions in his own mind."
Sam's frown deepened, sad eyes seeking Jim's. "You mean we couldn't have found a way to save him?"
Ah. This was tricky territory and Jim knew he had to be real careful with his answer. "I think you did save him. Xavier knew what the outcome would be; your family wouldn't have let him survive after what he did to you. They would have hunted him down and put a stop to it. Xavier wasn't stupid and probably knew what kind of people he was dealing with; hunters." Jim smiled slightly. "My guess is he wanted to be caught before he killed again. Before he killed you."
He held his breath, wondering if Sam was buying it. In truth, Jim wasn't so sure himself and was merely clutching at straws, but if it helped Sam feel a little better about it then that was all he cared about.
"Ok," Sam nodded slowly. "I guess."
They talked for a while longer, about school, the bible, John's continued obsession with finding Mary's killer, Dean and his amazing bottomless pit for a stomach, and Bobby's incredibly bad culinary skills.
Pastor Jim had a particular fondness for the youngest Winchester. Sam thought deeply about the world around him, and it troubled the kid when he couldn't understand why things were a certain way. He took things to heart, held them close and didn't let go. His brother being a prime example. Sam hated that Dean still blamed himself for what happened and was constantly trying to find ways to make his big brother see things differently, to help Dean heal in the same way that Dean was helping him. And it made sense. Sam could only move on from this if the brothers moved on together.
"Sam! Getcha ass down here!" Dean's bellowed up the stairs, and added tentatively "Yellow alert!"
Jim raised an enquiring eyebrow when Sam grimaced.
"That means dinner's ready….and Uncle Bobby prepared it." Sam finished darkly.
Jim's face was a picture of sheer horror. "I don't s'pose there's any chance I could be excused…" His voice trailed off at the sympathetic shake of Sam's head. "Nah…didn't think so. Ok come on, let's getcha down those stairs."
Dean was waiting at the bottom looking a little concerned. He always did when he watched his brother attempting the stairs on that broken leg, usually stepping in to help with the last few feet. But he had more reason to be worried today, knowing that when Pastor Jim paid Sam a private visit it was usually to discuss something profound that Dean couldn't help his brother with. It saddened him but there was nothing he could do about it until Sam opened up, and the only way that would happen was if Dean backed off and gave him some breathing space.
"Come on, Sasquatch and don't forget to hold ya nose!" Dean called out cheerfully.
"I heard that ya little shit!" Bobby all but growled from the kitchen and they could hear John choking back laughter.
Sam shook his head and let his brother guide him the rest of the way, an arm curled protectively round Sam's shoulder. Pastor Jim followed on behind with a knowing smile. Sam didn't really need the help, managing just fine on his own, but Dean needed to help and Sam just let him. It was that simple.
Seated round the dinner table, all awaited the offerings with considerable dread. Sam even closed his eyes when he heard the oven door opening, and Pastor Jim muttering the Lord's Prayer under his breath nearly made him snort out loud.
"Hey dude." Dean nudged him gently, "Do we like get a stay of execution or something if we offer to do the dishes?"
Their father attempted to hide his grin. "Dean, button it!" he turned to Sam, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You ok there son?" There was more to that question than just four words, Sam knew.
"I will be Dad." Sam grinned when his father ruffled his hair affectionately.
Dean drew in a deep breath as Bobby entered the room. "Well, this is it. Valhalla awaits us."
"Easy on the blasphemy there kid," Jim whispered. "It's heaven or nothing."
Sam frowned. "How do you know about Valhalla Dean?"
"I didn't always skip class to go necking under the bleachers ya know!" Dean pretended offence but a small smile broke out. "Actually I watched the porn version of Ride of the Valkyries." He shook his head, puffing his cheeks out. "Whoa that was sweet…"
"Dean!" John's voice was a little more disapproving this time as he indicated the presence of the Pastor.
"Uh…sorry."
Bobby tutted and place a large cauldron-style cooking pot on the table and removed the lid with a flourish. "Irish stew ladies, now dig in afore it gets cold."
The table fell silent as the grave as each hunter was served up a big bowl of stew, and to everyone's surprise it actually smelled good.
Even better…
"Wow Bobby this is great! Where dya get the recipe?" Sam's spoon was already scraping the bottom of his bowl enthusiastically. Dean watched him with a sense of relief. The kid was too skinny, having lost his appetite since they freed him from Xavier so it was another item ticked off Dean's wishlist when Sam eagerly accepted another bowl of stew from Bobby. Only when his little brother was tucking in again did Dean allow himself to eat. And he had to admit, the stew was damn fine.
Of course it was Dean that started the food fight, throwing pieces of buttered bread at Sam when no one was watching.
His brother scowled good naturedly and threw them right back with unerring accuracy, landing in Dean's hair, butter-side down of course.
"Boys.." John growled a warning which was cut off by a full slice of bread thrown by Pastor Jim. The bread slid off his cheek leaving a slimy trail of butter and John just sat there chewing on his lip.
Sam and Dean watched with mild interest as their father picked up the wayward bread slice and hefted it in his hand thoughtfully. Ever so slowly, and with great showmanship, John raised his head to stare straight at the Pastor, announcing matter-of-factly "You are so gonna pay for that" and launched the bread at Jim who immediately ducked, only to be hit with another John took from his own plate.
The boys couldn't stop laughing as their Dad and Jim became a blur of arms, bread and butter, whilst Bobby just stared at them in utter disbelief.
What in hell is this? Kindergarten?
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By the time they got the place cleaned up Sam was smothering a yawn and fighting to stay awake. A glass of water appeared in front of him along with his medication: muscle relaxants and pain relievers. He smiled gratefully at his brother, red eyes ringed with tired circles.
"Come on kiddo, why don't you get some rest huh? Ya look beat." Dean had his concerned face back on and Sam hated that he caused his brother so much worry.
Sam nodded and struggled to his feet, Dean passing him the crutches and grasping his arm when he swayed slightly from exhaustion. "Let me do all the work Sammy."
Dean helped Sam up the stairs to their shared bedroom and got him settled for the night, tucking the covers round him even as the kid fought to stay awake a while longer.
"Hey Dean."
"Uhuh?"
Sam blinked tiredly. "Never thanked ya…"
Dean frowned. "What the hell for?"
"Com…coming ta get me. Knew ya would." And Sam was asleep, snoring lightly.
"You're welcome buddy," Dean replied softly and turned off the lamp.
It was to be Sam's first nightmare free sleep in ages, not that he wouldn't have bad dreams in the future but Dean and John took it as a good sign that he was finally on the mend.
But Xavier Romanov would always cast a long shadow, hovering in the back of Sam's mind, and nine years on he would be confronted by the very same question, but this time aimed at himself:
Could he be saved?
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Author's notes:
Not the best of endings I know but I was getting pretty tired by this point. This point being 4.30 in the morning and being badgered by the blasted Accident and Emergency department. AGAIN!
Hope you enjoyed it and it didn't get too boring.
Kind regards,
ST xxx