Keep Each Other Human Final Chapter
"Has it been five minutes yet?" Sam looked ready to slide down the wall.
Pulling his brother's arm over his shoulder, Dean let Sam lean on him, taking most of his weight. "Close. I'd say a few minutes more." His torso was killing him. Damn tube. Sam couldn't be feeling any better.
"Kay." Sam's head rolled toward Dean.
"Stay with me. We got to make a long run." Dean nudged Sam back with his own head.
"Yeah, gotta run."
The sound of feet slapping cement, running, a group of people, clapped outside the door, then angry shouts, orders to "round them up", more rushing footsteps. The noise grew farther and farther away.
That was their cue. "Now, Sammy." Dean pulled open the door, stuck his head outside into the vacant hall. "Let's go," he whispered, and half-dragged, half-carried his sibling into the hallway. Their luck was holding. He heard a guttural shriek—had to be Meg eliminating her targets. Dean couldn't help hoping the shriek belonged to Chatty Ron, but he didn't stop for details, just dragged his brother who was stumbling more than walking, down that hallway.
Third door, third door. Here. Not willing to lose his grip on Sam, Dean kicked the door, relieved when it flew outward, and hauled his kid brother out into the night. His knees nearly buckled, seeing the tan truck right there. Right freaking there. With a surge of energy, he practically carried Sam the few yards over to the passenger side, wrenched it open, and shoved Sam inside. Flying around to the other side, pulling out the keys, he slid onto the bench and shouted "Hail Mary!" as the engine revved to life just as several demons slammed out of the hanger door, rushing toward them.
Shoving the gear into Reverse, Dean punched the gas and the truck sped backwards into the field. Dean hit the brakes, pushed up into Drive and fishtailed around, looking for the road. There. Heading toward it, he left the demons and the hanger in a cloud of flying grass and dust.
Dean tore down the old country road, putting as much distance as he could between them and the demons that were sure to be following. The wheels spun out, skidding and sliding across the dirt. The truck bucked up, hitting a particularly nasty bump and Sam flew off the seat, hitting his forearms on the dash.
That must have jolted him to full consciousness. "Dean!"
"You all right there, Sammy?"
"No!"
"Yeah, alright." Dean eased up on the accelerator, glancing in the rearview mirror. So far there weren't any headlights behind them, but that wouldn't last. They had one little pig sticker between them and more than a dozen demons on their tail. "Sam, look around. Check out the glove box. Maybe we'll get lucky."
Without questioning, Sam dug into the glove box, throwing insurance papers and the truck manual to the floorboard. He found gloves . . .
"Huh."
Dean took his eyes off the dark road to glance over. "What?"
"Oh, just a, a small Bible. One of those travel versions."
"And?"
"Just ironic." His voice was low, coated in exhaustion. "Some demon's been driving around with a Bible and didn't know it."
Dean grinned at that. He needed something to grin at. "Okay. Any weapons? Guess it'd be too much to ask for a demon to be riding around with a box of salt."
Sam shook his head. "Nothing. Well, there's this." He pulled a tiny silver cross, a bookmark of sorts, from between the scripture's pages and wrapped the chain around his wrist, palming the little trinket.
"Great. That's so not helpful. Try the floorboards."
Sam bent over, searching around, and the engine sputtered, the truck slowing, the backend scraping sideways.
"No no no no no, Sweetheart. Don't die on us now. Shit!" Dean slammed the steering wheel with his hands when the engine died and the truck spun out to a rapid stop.
The brothers looked at each other, how royally screwed they were passing across their features when Dean heard engines. He twisted around, seeing the dark shapes. Shit! They'd been followed the entire time by vehicles without lights on.
Dean turned to his brother. "Sam. We got to get out of the truck. You hide. I have the knife. I'll distract them and when they get out of one of those cars, you get in."
"No, I'm not leaving you."
"That's not the plan." Dean's tone was a whining grumble. "Drive straight toward me and I'm jumping in."
"Oh." Sam's grin was quick and flashing. "That's never going to work, but I like it."
"Okay, then. Are you able to—Sam!"
The passenger side door yanked open and all Dean saw was his brother flying out the door. "Sam!"
Dean lunged after him, the hilt of Meg's knife already in his palm and coming out of his belt. It flashed in the moonlight as he jammed it into the back of the demon punching his brother. The demon hissed and turned and Dean plunged the blade into him again, spinning the guy away into the darkness as he pulled the knife free.
Grabbing onto Sam's shirt, he heaved him up and got him running, well stumbling mostly, but they were moving into a field. God, they were out in the middle of nowhere. He needed a town. Needed a phone. Needed Sam to be safe and whole.
Shouts called behind them. "They went that way." "Over there." "Spread out."
Light played over shadow to their left, gleaming like a flat mirror within the tall grass. Moonlight playing over water. A pond of some sort.
Sam's legs gave out. He dropped.
"No no, keep going, just a few more steps."
"To where?" Pain caked Sam's tone.
"Come on." Dean circled his arms around Sam's stomach, hauled him up, herded him forward until their legs were splashing in water. "Be careful, don't know how deep it is, but get into the middle."
The pond was small, barely a few yards across on all sides. Sam stumbled, went under, but was back up in moments, sitting on the bottom, water lapping around his chest and knees. "Dean, how is this going to help?"
Dean stood at the water's edge, the glinting blade outstretched. He looked back over his shoulder. "Still got that cross?"
"Yeah?" Sam lifted his hand where he'd wrapped the delicate chain. "Dean . . .?" His head cocked. "God, you're brilliant."
"Never doubt that. Well, get to blessing."
Sam slapped the tiny cross down into the water and began reciting the prayer to make holy water. As the first demons came at him, Dean lost the anchor of Sam's voice. He became a flurry of motion, stab, jab, keep moving, keep the attackers off balance. When he kicked out, sending a demon tumbling into the water, and that demon screamed, skin bubbling and hissing like steam, Dean knew Sam had completed the prayer.
Another demon came at him and Dean let him come, pulling the guy with him as they fell backward into the water. The demon shrieked, thrashing as Dean held him under until the body stiffened and a roar of black smoke plumed up into the night sky. Dean shoved the floating body away.
Staying low, Dean moved to the pond's center toward his brother. The remaining demons had smartened up, staying at the edge of the water.
Dean flinched as Sam grabbed his arm.
"Sorry," Sam said. "Are you hurt?"
The welts on his chest hurt like a mofo. "No, I'm okay. You?"
"I'm alright." Which was as big a load of crap as Dean had just told him. Sam had barely made it across the field, was still feverish and recovering from days worth of beatings without nourishment. Yeah, he was alright. The demons began pacing the pond, circling like hyenas. There were about nine of them. Dean wished they'd stop moving so he could get in a direct line between them and Sam. They couldn't enter the water, but they could still throw knives. Not wanting to hit Lucifer's vessel was probably the only thing that had kept them from that. He only hoped none of them went back for a gun. Or even a rope. If the situation was reversed, Dean would just lasso their asses out of here. He seriously hoped these lackey demons were lackeys because they didn't have too much going on in the attic.
For now, the demons seemed ready to just wait them out. Which was a pretty awesome plan considering he and Sam had nowhere to go.
He felt Sam shiver. The kid was resting his head on his knees, long wet hair totally obscuring his face. The fact that he wasn't keeping an eye on the demons was a clear indication of how ill Sam was.
One of the demons stopped pacing, gripped another by the shoulder. "Go get the car, drive it into that puddle and we'll lift them out." Dammit. There always had to be at least one demon who could think on his feet. Crap. The pond was shallow. Driving a car over them could actually work. The demon ran off into the dark.
Dean shook Sam, cautioning, be ready, get alert. Sam barely moaned, but didn't lift his head. Craptastic.
The shrill of an engine turning over hummed through the air. Headlights snapped on, moving, then turning straight for them. Dean shifted up into a crouch. Only one thing he could do. Pull the demons out of the car into the water and hope they didn't grab him and Sam first. They didn't have a lot of options.
The headlights moved closer, bright in Dean's eyes. A flapping gust of air whirled by. The car abruptly stopped. The dark silhouette of a dude in a flat-shouldered trenchcoat stood at the driver's side door just before the demon sailed through the window to cartwheel through the air.
As rapidly as the angel appeared, he disappeared, materializing at the water's edge, angel killing blade in one hand, other palm pressed against the smart demon's forehead. Smoke spiraled out of the throat like a mini cyclone. Cas moved like contained lightning. One, two, three more demons were pulled one by one from their hosts.
Castiel's fluid motion was a rare thing of beauty. Though it appeared the angel didn't need any help, Dean ran out of the water anyway, plunging Meg's knife into a demon coming up behind the nerd angel.
"Enjoying yourself there, Cas?"
"Actually, yes." The angel didn't even sound winded. "Killing demons is enjoyable."
They fought back to back, taking all comers. And suddenly they found themselves without any new opponents. Without stopping to catch his breath, Dean ran back into the pond. He hadn't heard a sound from Sam and that worried him. He found his brother floating on his side, face half in the water.
"Sam!" He pulled the kid up, supporting his head at the same time he shook him. "Sam, come on!" He could see his brother's chest rising and falling, clearly still breathing.
Cas appeared right behind Dean, crouching over his shoulder to peer at Sam. "Is he well?"
"No, he's about as far from well as you can get," Dean ground out. "I really wish you still had your healing angel juice."
"For what it's worth, Dean. I wish that as well."
"Yeah, well . . ." Wasn't much they could do about that. "Sammy, wake up."
Sam's eyes slid open. "Hey, Dean." His gaze tracked over above Dean's shoulder. "Cas?"
"Sam."
"How'd you get here? How'd you even find us?"
Dean frowned. "Yeah, how did you find us?"
"Text message."
Dean's eyes widened. "You got a text message? From who?"
Cas shook his head. "I do not know. The number was blocked."
"Meg," the brothers said in unison.
"What is that noise?" Cas looked around.
Dean pulled Sam closer to him, hearing it too, a faint clicking. He stared hard at his brother's shaking length, the trembling in his chin. Ah, hell. "That's Sam's teeth chattering."
"Can't h-help it." Sam glanced over at him, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.
"Uh, Cas," Dean said. "Wanna get us out of here?"
"Certainly." His arms came forward . . .
. . . and they were in the last hotel Dean had been in, Sam safely in his arms, still shaking as they bounced slightly on the bed from the landing.
"You transported us back to the hotel the demons nabbed me from?" Dean's brow arched.
Cas cocked his head. "Well, your car's still here."
Dean closed his mouth, then opened it again. "Oh, good point."
"Shall I transport us to another hotel?"
"No." Dean waved him off, shifting off the bed to rearrange his brother more carefully. The kid was wet and still shivering, watching him through half-opened eyes. "I doubt any demons would think of coming back here to find us. Besides I gotta take care of Sammy. Listen, Cas. Can you pop into a drugstore and get me antibiotics? And Gatorade or whatever you can find that hydrates ."
"Dean, it's late, the stores are all closed."
Straightening, Dean just looked at him.
Cas lowered his gaze. "Oh. You mean steal them." With a flutter of air, the angel disappeared.
And reappeared by the foot of the bed with a crumpled paper bag. He pulled out the big pharmacy containers pharmacists used before they counted out the pills into separate containers. Ciprofloxacin. Amoxicillin.
"Dude." Dean clapped the angel on the shoulder. "You are so our pharmacy run guy from now on."
Cas pulled out three bottles of Gatorade. Orange, red, and blue. "These will do? I was uncertain how the different hues would affect your brother."
Dean grinned at that. "They're perfect. Will you turn on the shower for me?" He thought about that. "Meaning, let the water run until the temperature is warm."
Cas nodded and disappeared. Dean knew he was in the bathroom when he heard the water running. Would it kill the Trenchcoated Wonder to walk a few steps?
"Okay, kiddo, we need to get you out of these wet clothes, and in the shower."
"No, sleep first." Sam didn't bother opening his eyes.
Dean worked the laces of one of Sam's boots, drew it off. "Nope, you're still shivering." He left the other boot on and gripped Sam beneath his shoulders to drag him up to sit against the headboard. He held out the blue and red bottles. "Drink one of these while I wrangle these sopping jeans off you. Not a suggestion, Sam."
Sam stared at the offered sports drinks, then finally took the blue one. Dean cringed inwardly. He hadn't been thinking. Not wanting to make a big thing out of the freakin color of Gatorade, he went back to Sam's other boot while Sam sipped the blue liquid.
Getting Sam to the shower took a lot of energy neither of them had to spare. Dean had stripped Sam to his boxers, and even with Castiel's help, getting Sam clean became one of those hold him upright under the spray and scrub as gently and quickly as you can ordeals. The yellowing bruises covering the kid's torso made Dean want to storm back to that hanger and burn it to the ground.
Once Sam was back on the bed—the room only had a single—wrapped tight beneath the comforter, antibiotic and pain pills taken, and wet boxers pulled off, Dean took a quick turn in the shower, spraying off mud and whatever other gunk had been in that pond water he didn't really want to think about.
He came out of the bathroom to find Castiel looking slightly perplexed at the state of his dripping wet trenchcoat. "If you have matters well in hand here, I'm going to go someplace . . . arid." With that, he blinked out in a whoosh of air.
"Yeah, you go dry off," Dean murmured and turned off the lights, easing the curtain back to let in a soft glow from the street lamp outside. Sinking into the chair, he let his gaze drift over his sleeping brother. In the future Zachariah had dropped him into, when Dean and Sam had sat at that picnic table before going their separate ways, that'd been the last they'd been together, which turned out to be the first baby step to both of their damnations. Sam lost his hope that Dean would forgive him, trust him again, and Sam had said yes to Lucifer and Dean had become a person he didn't recognize or admire much. In Chatty Ron's hanger, Sam still held onto the hope that Dean would forgive him and had looked to Dean and consistently said no . . . and Dean had been humbled.
He gained something valuable from Zachariah's warped adventure in time, and it wasn't about hoarding toilet paper. Dean would never become that cold leader of the future as long as his brother was with him because he knew as surely as his heart knows how to beat that Sam kept him human.
FIN
