Dean Winchester was a good parent, an exceptional one. He'd been one of those blessed few individuals who instinctually knew how to raise a child, even as a child himself. He'd learned and practiced, honed his skills as he'd done with hunting. But the fact remained he'd have been an excellent parent no matter what the situation, no matter the age thrusted onto him. He knew Sam's every nuance without even looking at him, Dean wasn't even completely awake and he'd tuned into his young brother. Relief flooded over him, through him, feeling Sam's presence.
So it was plain to him when he woke up…came to…Sam sat beside him, hip pressed against Dean's side. Dean even knew, without looking, exactly how the kid was sitting, knees pulled to chest, arms wrapped around his legs, glaring at something beyond Dean, shivering slightly and not because he was cold. As he drifted more toward consciousness Dean realized he used Sam's flannel for a pillow and Sam's jacket was draped across his shoulders.
Other sensations beyond Sam, knowing Sam was there and alive filtered into Dean's brain. He ached. From the bruises across his chest and back, from the hard, cold cement he slumped over, from the black eye he was sure he had. He ached. Cracking one eye—the one going to sport a shiner soon—open, Dean groaned, lifted one arm, dropped it over his face, finger tips brushing Sam's arm.
Sam shifted beside him. Dean knew Sam was watching him like a hawk. He knew the expression Sam wore, heard the soft, sharp intake of his brother's breath when Dean winced from the movement.
"They hurt you Sammy?" Dean's throat was scratchy and raw, splinters of pain caught and pulled as he tried swallowing. He felt the quick shake of Sam's head reverberate through them both. Tapping Sam's arm lightly, Dean held up his free hand, in the next instant was pulling himself up against Sam's grip. He almost stopped the groan from getting past his lips. Arms resting across his knees, Dean took a few deep breaths, tried not imagining what Sam's expression meant he must look like. The kid's eyes never left him. Inhaling and blowing puffs of air out his mouth, he straightened briefly before leaning on his knees again. "Look at me and tell me they didn't hurt you."
Sam watched him patiently, the meaning of Dean's words filtering into his eyes. "No, they didn't. A few punches, that's it. Good thing you got here to save me and all."
Rubbing Sam's shoulder for a few seconds with the back of his hand, Dean felt Sam immediately relax. "Yeah, boring night, nothing else to do." Stretching around Sam, Dean took a better look at their surroundings. The room had a chilling resemblance to a prison cell. There was nothing other than them, the framework for two cots, a sink and toilet in a cement ten by ten room.
Yeah, this day was looking better and better.
Gingerly rolling his shoulders, that not being so bad, he moved on to pushing his arms back and forth. Those movements progressed to twisting his torso side to side, making him groan and cough a bit. He'd taken a few good hits to his ribs, but there didn't appear to be anything broken, just bruised and abused.
Using Sam as a brace Dean pushed sluggishly to his feet, flexing and bending his legs on the way up. Sam's hand stayed under Dean's elbow, steadying him until he straightened completely, exceeding Sam's reach. Sam sat, looking up at him, his face a mixture of expectation and anger. Dean had been the one getting beat on and Sam looked horrible, he wondered what was wrong with that scenario. Suspicions bubbled through him, threatening to erupt out of his mouth if he wasn't careful, that more happened to Sam since Dean last saw him than the kid might ever let on.
Moving around the room for distraction as much as to loosen his stiff, achy muscles Dean ventured a glance to what lay beyond the barred door. A long corridor stretched for several hundred yards on either side of their 'room' both sides lined with more cells, a few dozen on each side Dean reasoned. Some were empty, some weren't, mostly the doors stood open.
Grasping the bars Dean gave a gentle shake. Locked. His moving about drew attention from the other 'inmates' in the corridor, other cells. One man cracked a toothy grin at Dean, pointed past him to Sam and made lewd gestures. Dean started to flip him off, thought better of it and turned around, back to the bars.
"Did you see any-"
"Why the hell did you do it?" Sam cut him off, voice deep and harsh, nostrils flaring, breathing hard. He stayed rooted to the floor, tremors jerking across his shoulders, arms.
"Why did I do what? Sammy…what the hell? You think this is my fault?" That hurt. It wounded more than any hit Dean had taken earlier in the fight. Sam blamed him for this? Blamed Dean for leaving him in the car, alone? Dean's head swam, the nausea he'd felt earlier returned with a vengeance, slamming through him. Sam blamed him!
In a blur of motion Sam was off the floor, in front of him, right up in his face. Out of sheer reflex Dean shoved against his brother's shoulder, moving him away from the bars.
Sam shoved back, Dean stumbled a few steps to regain his footing.
"Why'd you do it?!"
That just pissed Dean off, it wasn't like he'd done anything on purpose, or even something he'd not ever done before, leaving Sam sleeping in the locked car. Feeling the last vestiges of Sam's seemingly never ending hero-worship of him suddenly slipping away, leaving Dean empty, his temper flared in a way it rarely did. Hitting Sam's shoulders hard enough to not only move him away, but force him to the farthest corner of the cell.
"It's not like I haven't left you for five minutes in the car asleep before. Christ, Sam, how the hell could I know? You think I'd do that if I had even a clue? You think that hasn't been eating me up?"
Sam stilled, blinked at him, jaw dropped, shook his head a fraction. Whatever retort he might have had obviously vanished from his head. "You think…" His words stumbled, expression changed at once, the anger dropping away. "Dean, none of this is your fault. I never considered thinking that." The sincerity in Sam's voice eased the hot knot in Dean's middle.
"Then what are you pissed at me for?"
Fury snapped back to Sam's face, though not as intense. Dean watched his brother struggle to maintain control, quell the emotions simmering just under the surface. Sam's eyes darted between Dean and the activity in the corridor beyond the locked door. Completely freaked, Sam wasn't thinking things through, being totally rational. Dean saw it plain and clear.
"Why'd you do it? Go in there? I don't need you fighting battles for me…why'd you let them beat the crap out of you?" Sam's words rushed out between harsh, ragged pants. Fists clenched, eyes wide and moist, he jittered from the strain of keeping control.
"They didn't exactly give me a lot of choice Sam. It was fight or else. And I didn't let anyone beat the crap out of me."
"I saw…" Sam's eyes again flicked to some point behind Dean, he swallowed. "I saw them Dean, there were three of them, and I saw…" Again Sam's eyes were pulled from Dean to the corridor.
Dean glanced over his shoulder, but no one was there.
"It's not like I can't hold my own in a fight." Sam stammered out the last words.
"Sam, they told me go in there and fight or they'd make you suffer, kill you. They grabbed you, us both, on purpose, for some game. It was a fist fight, that's it. Hell, I've had worse—" He stopped when Sam's attention again swung to somewhere outside their cell, another convulsive swallow. This time Dean turned fully, went to the door, looked up and down the corridor. Several men were there, in groups of twos or threes, watching without actually watching them. Turning back to Sam, moving around so he kept the corridor in his peripheral vision, keeping his voice low, "I've had worse in bar fights, hell they didn't even have a chair to crack over my head."
"I saw three of them descend on you! I didn't even know if they'd killed you till they brought you here." Sam was shouting, upper lip bouncing into a snarl.
Taking a few steps forward, closing the distance between them, Dean laid a hand on each of Sam's shoulders. "How much did you see?"
"Enough." Sam growled out, his shoulders were tense as a bow ready to snap. He blinked in rapid succession for a few seconds.
Dean tightened his grip. "Sam. I won."
Jerking back, shaking, pulling a few deep breaths, Sam stared at him. "You wa—"
Dean gazed back placidly. "I won Sammy."
"But," Eyes again flipped to the corridor, then back to Dean, a few more jerky breaths before Sam's breathing settled to something closer to normal. "B-but I saw…they carried you in here, unconscious."
Pulling one hand away from Sam to rub at the back of his neck, Dean gave him a lopsided half a smile. "About that. They told me as long as I played along, fought, you'd be safe, and we'd stay together. The guy from the bar, Marlin, threatened all sorts of things Sam if I didn't, and I believed him. They wanted me to fight, but those guys would have killed you. So I did. When it was over I was taken out the same door you were. And you were nowhere to be seen, and I got," he shrugged a bit, "Annoyed. Ended up getting knocked out."
"I saw them, those men, all over you. I didn't know anything. I thought they'd beaten you to death."
"I don't think that's in the plan. There were no weapons."
Sam glared at the floor, a brief glance out the door before his gaze dropped again. "What is this?"
"I don't know Sam." Dean's fingers tightened around his brother's neck, he gave a gentle shake, squeezed until Sam's eyes, round and worried, met his. "But, Sammy, we play along, follow the rules until we figure a way out. Agreed?"
The glare Sam leveled at him made Dean tense. "You're just going to get beat up." Sam's words hissed between clenched teeth.
"If that's what I have to do until we get out, yeah, I am. Cause right now I don't know what else to do, and we need to find a way out. If that's what it takes to be sure we both get out in one piece and alive, yeah I will. And you're going to goddamn shut up about it."
Sam was angry, and Dean was happy he couldn't shoot fire from his eyes or Dean would be barbeque about now. Sam could be as angry as he wanted, Dean didn't give a shit just then. At least angry meant alive.
"But first, we're gonna need to find a way past that locked door." Dean grumbled.
Fishing in his jeans pockets, Sam pulled out his lock picks, holding them up. Offering Dean a shrug, one corner of his mouth curling up for an instant, "I locked us in."
It was Dean's turn to be stunned. For the first time since he and Sam had gone into that bar Dean cracked a true grin. "Good job!" Taking a few deep breaths. "All right, we do this like we do anything else. Collect our information, and we'll need supplies, food, water," waving one hand half heartedly at the cement floor, "Maybe a pillow or two." Holding one hand up, palm out, Dean caught the lock picks tossed at him out of the air.
Checking the corridor, no one had moved around much, Dean threaded one arm through the bars, a few deft turns and their door popped open. He tossed the picks back to Sam. He wanted Sam to be able to lock himself in the cell if they were separated again. The look Sam gave him, picks dangling off his fingers told Dean he didn't agree. Inhaling deeply just to keep from slapping that look right off his brother's face Dean met Sam's stare. "Sam, I can't fight them and you. Please. We need to be together on this."
Eyes moving to the floor again, Sam immediately relented. "Sorry. I guess fighting each other gets us nowhere. I didn't mean…it's…this is…"
"Don't worry about it." Dean's words skittered to a stop when the color drained from Sam's face, his eyes slipped from Dean, to behind Dean then back again. Turning Dean was barely able to conceal his surprise and keep from taking a step back.
"Come with me." Marlin filled the small doorway.
Dean stared him down, careful to keep any emotion from his eyes, his voice. "Why?" He heard, was acutely aware of Sam moving up behind him. Of how the kid's breath quickened ever so slightly.
At once on the alert Dean wondered what transpired between Sam and Marlin between their stop at the bar and now. Marlin had said, done something to drive a spike of fear through his brother, Dean felt it radiate off Sam to flow along his shoulder blades, down his back. Dropping his arms so they hung loosely at his sides, Dean took one step sideways putting himself between Marlin and Sam, feet planted firmly.
"Ya did good, wasn't so difficult now was it?" Marlin folded both arms over his barrel chest, talked to Dean, but let his stone cold gaze settle on Sam.
Dean suppressed the ripple wanting to course down his back, spread to his extremities.
"Let's take the tour."
A quick glance back to be sure Sam was with him, Dean nodded.
Marlin's arm shot out, hand reaching for Sam's cheek. "He stays."
Simultaneously Sam's head jerked back, a harsh sound grumbled from his throat. Dean's forearm came up, colliding forcefully with Marlin's angling the man's hand down and back. Sam stood stock still behind him. Dean felt the slight shift in Sam's stance, felt him tense up. What threats Marlin levied against Sam he was unsure, but he had a good idea.
"I won. He goes with me." Dean's voice even, his gaze never wavered from Marlin's.
"Suit yourself." Marlin said with a shrug.
Another brief glance back at Sam, Dean nudged his side to draw his attention away from Marlin. Dean gave his brother a look that read, stick close. The look Sam offered back was a more than plain, no shit.
Once out in the corridor Dean got a full blast of the horror of the situation they were in. Surrounded by guys who looked like hardened criminals would shy away from and call them bad company, he and Sam were stuck in the worst survival scenario he could ever imagine. As they moved along, eyes followed them, eyes of men who when they looked Dean up and down made his skin crawl. Guys who when they sized up Sam, eyed him up and down made Dean shiver, his skin crawl, had him honestly considering killing anyone who came within five feet of his kid brother.
"Ya got a day before the next fight. That's how it works." Marlin said over his shoulder. "You want to eat, have water, you go there." He pointed to a small area off the main corridor. "You want to work out, go there." This time he pointed to what looked like a prison turn out yard, though the door to it stood open. "Only you."
When Sam started to say something, Marlin stopped so fast Dean nearly collided with him. He whirled on them, glared behind Dean to Sam. Dean looked between the two. Sam clamped his mouth shut, lips a thin, angry line. Dean turned back to Marlin, stared with cold eyes at the man. Marlin simply shrugged, again focusing over Dean's shoulder to Sam, gave them a smirk before swiveling around and striding along the corridor once again. Sam was close enough, Dean felt the muscles of his forearms bunch and twitch.
Dean felt Sam's eyes pierce the back of his head, "You said a fight." Sam spat in his ear. Dean dared a quick turn of his head to meet Sam's gaze, arched one eyebrow and shrugged. Sam wasn't getting it, Dean had been clear in his explanation, but Sam heard what he'd wanted to hear. He apparently hadn't wanted to hear about any more fights.
They rounded a corner, into a much narrower hall, this one merely a passageway to some other part of the complex. The walls were close enough Dean's shoulders brushed them if he leaned to one side or the other. There were no rooms, or doors along the length. Footsteps stalked behind them, coming closer, no attempt at quiet. At the instant the footsteps echoed right up behind them, Dean felt Sam stiffen, jerk to one side, growling no real words. Spinning around in time to see a hand grab at Sam's hair, his brother's reaction was fast and intense. Hitting both hands solidly against the man's chest, forcing him back a few steps, Sam surged forward, arm cranked back to strike. The stranger's fist dodged under Sam's arm, slamming into his mid-section, stopping him. Sam bent nearly in half, staggered back, gasping to pull the air back into his lungs.
Using the fact Sam was shoved back against him as leverage, Dean grabbed Sam's arm as he swung his punch, pulled him back, and propelled him into the wall. Dean wheeled around in front of his brother, everything about him projected one sentiment…Mine! "NO!" Dean snapped, harsh and low, holding out one finger, daring this asshole to try something.
Ducking the punch aimed at his face, moving Sam with him, Dean wasn't quite fast enough. The man's knuckles grazed the side of his head, just over his left ear. Black haze clouded in from the sides of his vision, his ears rung, and the narrow hall tilted sickeningly for a few seconds. Thrown off balance Dean would have fallen, but for the fact he and Sam were both jammed into the same small space. Sam's hands under his elbows steadied him. He felt Sam's heart hammering against his back, mingling with his own wildly thumping pulse.
The guy glared at Dean. Dean glared back. Taking a few deep breaths, keeping Sam securely sandwiched between the wall and himself, he repeated, "No." This time his voice was harsh and just above a whisper, nothing but pure threat.
"My mistake mate." The guy backed up a step, but not before throwing them both a cocky smile.
Marlin had stood, a few feet up the hall, watching in silence. His gaze shifted from the man, to the brothers. He turned on his heels, silently continuing down the hall.
Grabbing Sam's shoulders, Dean spun him around, shoved him ahead, pressing the knuckles of one hand into Sam's back as they went. Ignoring Sam's protested, "Hey, Dean."
"You know, when we were kids and I took you to the zoo, I distinctly remember telling you NOT to poke the bears." Dean's voice rose with each word until he barked the last few in Sam's ear.
Dean had never been so happy to walk into what appeared to be a medical clinic in his life. The door clanked shut behind him, the sound of a lock turning. For the minute at least Dean might be able to take an easy breath.