FROM BAD TO WORSE
DISCLAIMER:
You know the rules; I own no rights at all to do with SUPERNATURAL!
STORY SUMMARY:
They were heading to Tennessee on the trail of a werewolf; but on the way Sam gets ill and has to be hospitalized. With Sam in good hands and recovering, Dean continues on to Tennessee to hunt the werewolf, but when he fails to return, Sam now recovered sets out on a desperate hunt of his own to find his brother.
AUTHORS NOTES:
I apologize for my tardiness in getting this chapter written and posted. I had all good intentions of having it up before Christmas. (The best laid plans of mice and women). My sister and beta informed me it's been 5 weeks since I posted chapter 6, eek. They don't call this time of year the silly season for nothing. I hope it was worth the wait?
Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 6 and to all the new readers who put FROM BAD TO WORSE on alert.
So Sam made the great escape from the hospital and not a moment too soon as Dean is in big trouble. Here's chapter 7, enjoy.
Beta as always is msokiedokie.
Chapter 7
The bored looking motel receptionist's face brightened when he came in. She looked him up and down an appreciating smile lifting the corner of her sulky mouth. She told him that she hadn't seen Dean since yesterday morning and room service said his bed hadn't been slept in when she went in to clean this morning. She also told him that Dean had paid for the room for four nights, which meant that he had every intention of staying there and being around while Sam was in the hospital. As Sam turned to leave she said, "Hey stretch, I'm off soon, how about you take me out to lunch?"
Sam politely told her he had a prior engagement adding. "Some other time." God I sounded just like Dean.
Making sure no one was around he picked the lock on room 7. The room was tidy with just a few of Dean's things around. There was a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt folded neatly at the end of the bed closest to the door. Old habits die hard; at least they did with his big brother. Probably out of habit Dean had taken a room with two beds and as always had taken the bed closest to the door. Always keeping himself between possible danger and his little brother. The folded clothes were Dean's usual sleeping attire, obviously folded by the cleaning staff, because there was no way Dean had left them like that they usually sat in a crinkled heap on or under the bed until he pulled them on the next night. Sam's laptop was on the table still in the laptop sleeve half a dozen papers with the research of the werewolf hunt shoved in beside it. On further investigation Sam found both his and Dean's khaki duffle bags in the bottom of the wardrobe and Dean's toiletry bag open on the vanity in the bathroom, but there was no Dean and no weapons bag.
So Dean wasn't at the motel, of course he wasn't that would be too easy; and when have things ever been easy for Winchesters? Wherever Dean was he had all the weapons with him.
A feeling of utter exhaustion and weariness overcame him. He felt feverish, dizzy and sick he pulled the chair out from the table and sat down carefully, running shaking hands through his hair he sighed, dropping his head into his hands as he rested his elbows on the table. He didn't need to be a genius to know Dean had gone on to hunt the werewolf, alone. Stupid, stubborn bastard. He went alone even after he'd promised me he would wait until I was out of hospital. Sam's eyes fell to the table and the dog-eared corners of the sheets of A4 paper poking out of the laptop sleeve; he pulled them out and scanned the research.
After reading through the research his energy returned with a rush of adrenaline surging through his bloodstream, he quickly gathered all of their belongings from the rooms double checked to make sure he hadn't left anything behind piled it all into the trunk of the stolen Taurus and headed west towards Tennessee Sam thought he knew where his brother was, at least he knew where to start looking. He was going to find Dean.
----- FBTW -----
"I'm not giving any interviews to the press about this, so you've wasted your time coming down here." Sheriff Washington said as he thrust Sam's press ID back at him.
"But sheriff the public have a right to know what's going on here, if I could just have a few words, if I go back to my editor without a story he's gonna fire me, I need this job, please sheriff." Sam gave him that look the look Dean called his puppy dog eyes.
Mike Washington looked into the pleading sensitive hazel eyes of the young man in front of him, before examining him critically. High spots of color on his cheeks accentuated how pale the rest of his face was, the kid looks ill. Mike thought about the stolen vehicle report that Adam had put on his desk an hour ago. Mike dragged his eyes away from Sam's face glancing over Sam's shoulder through the window onto the street beyond. "Alright, take a seat in my office I'll be with you in a minute." The sheriff said motioning towards the open door behind him.
Sam gave a grateful nod of his head and made his way slowly past the sheriff and into the office.
Sam lowered himself into the chair in front of the desk unbeknownst to him the very chair Dean had sat in yesterday. He could hear the hushed tones of sheriff saying something to the deputy. At any other time Sam would have realized that he'd made a stupid critical error and the sheriff was suspicious. With shaking fingers and a blue and white handkerchief Sam dabbed at the perspiration lining his forehead and his upper lip.
The sheriff came in closing the door behind him, he sat behind the desk. He was a well built handsome African American with kind warm brown eyes. He reminds me of someone. "Fire away." He said.
"So the FBI is on the case?" Sam asked stuffing his handkerchief into his pocket and pulling out his note book and pen.
"How did you know that?"
"Let's just say I have my sources."
"Right."
"You spoke to agent Eastwood yesterday?" Sam was fishing to see whether Dean had been here as Sam suspected and hoped he had.
"Your sources tell you that too?"
"You could say that, agent Eastwood and I have crossed paths a few times." Sam continued before the sheriff could interrupt. "So three deaths, two disappearances cattle mutilations, a wild animal, a wolf maybe?"
"There are no wolves in Tennessee, hasn't been for a long time."
"Maybe a satanic cult?"
The sheriff looked at him strangely, before answering. "A satanic cult, only the press would think of such a thing.
"The FBI have any leads?"
"I can't divulge that information until agent Eastwood finishes his investigation."
"Come on sheriff you must have some ideas about what's behind these attacks."
"Put it this way, the FBI don't believe it's an animal and I'm inclined to agree, but it's no cult either, so if you-" He was interrupted by the buzz of the phone. He picked it up, saying, "Yes Adam."
He could hear a tinny voice coming through the line but couldn't hear what was being said. "I suspected as much, okay thanks I'll take care of it." The sheriff put down the phone stood and came around the desk to stand to the side of Sam but facing him.
At least he knew Dean had been here, if he could get the sheriff to tell him where Dean had gone from here, if he even knew. But a sudden feeling something wasn't right swamped him he had to get out of here now. Anxious to be gone he stood up quickly, too quickly.
Pain lanced through his stomach, he gasped, the sheriff's face wobbled in and out of focus, his hearing faded to a high-pitched buzzing he reached out blindly and gripped the edge of the desk to keep himself from going down to his knees. The next thing he felt was a strong hand wrapped around his forearm forcing him back into the chair. With the buzzing now fading and dissipating, he opened his eyes. When did I close them? The sheriff's worried dark face swam into focus his deep worried voice said. "You with me? Here, drink this."
Something was pressed into his hand. Sam looked from the sheriff to the small white plastic cup filled with water in his hand, the hand that trembled as he lifted the cup to his mouth and took a half dozen sips. The sheriff took the cup from Sam's hand and put it down on the desk. He leaned back against the desk crossed his legs over each other at the ankles one dark hand on either side of him lightly curled around the edge of the desk.
"So you ready to tell me the truth now, you see while we were talking I had deputy Mastrone run the plates on that car out front, seems it was stolen from outside the Mission hospital in Asheville earlier today, around the same time as one of the patients went AWOL, a certain Sam Eastwood, recovering from an appendectomy, now he wouldn't by any chance be related to an FBI agent by the name of Dean Eastwood who I spoke to yesterday, would he, Sam?" Then he added with a raised eyebrow. "That is your name isn't it… Sam?"
He'd made a rookie mistake, a mistake a seasoned hunter like himself should never have made; Sam put it down to his current compromised health combined with his worry over his missing brother. Sam looked up into the kind concerned eyes of Sheriff Mike Washington, what would Dean do? Sam had a feeling Dean would have liked the sheriff and decided to take a chance, he was going to tell the sheriff the truth, an abbreviated version of the truth, enough so he could convince the big man to help him and not throw him into a jail cell. He had to admit he needed help to find Dean and the sheriff was the last person to see his brother.
"Sheriff, I need your help."
"Why should I help you? What I should do is throw you in a holding cell."
"Please sheriff hear me out and then you can decide if you wanna help me or lock me up."
----- FBTW -----
Dean awoke to the distant sound of thunder and pain everywhere and with that the realization he was still in the barn. The worst of the pain seemed to be all across his back a prickling biting type of pain that felt like thousands of ants crawling over his back sinking their tiny pincers into his flesh. The next worst was his ankle setting up a pulsing hot throb. A throb that was matched by the one in his head, arms and shoulders, even his teeth hurt.
Dean had hoped he was in a motel bed with Sam slumbering away on the other bed and not in the barn and that had gone on before was all a God awful nightmare.
Dean groaned and reluctantly opened his eyes, knowing what he was going to see. It took a few moments for his vision to clear; his stinging gritty eyeballs seemed coated in a sticky film of some sort. The interior of the barn was darker, slithers of the last rays of sunlight finding their way through the warped boards which meant he had been unconscious for many hours.
Thunder sounded again this time closer.
He was lying on his side on the hard packed earth, underneath him his own blood had mingled with the earth turning it into a paste that clung to his side. His manacled hands a pale blur stretched out in front of him at least he wasn't strung up any more, but the pain from the hours how many hours he couldn't guess his arms had been pulled taunt above his head in that unnatural position was a constant reminder.
His lacerated wrists were covered with blood dried rivulets of dark red snaking down his arms. His eyes followed the path of the chain attached to the manacles lifting taut and stretched to the pulley high above him.
The barn darkened further as the approaching storm drew closer, the temperature dropping rapidly.
How long would it be before she came back, he couldn't take another beating like that, it would kill him. An involuntary shiver shook his body whether from the coolness of the barn or fear he wasn't sure maybe a little of both. The uncontrolled movement lighting pain in the exposed nerve-ending across his back.
A stray ray of sunlight pierced the gloom hitting the window of the old Dodge reflecting back across the barn floor. A glint of metal caught his eye for a moment before the ray of sunlight was snuffed out there was something about six feet away from where he was lying. Dean lifted his head squinting at the object, trying to make out what it was; it looks like…, could my luck have changed for the better. Hope flared briefly then faded as he realized tied as he was even though he had more slack in the chain than before it was out of reach, unless….
Gritting his aching teeth against the inevitable pain he took hold of the chain above the manacles with both hands and lifted his himself up into a sitting position, the screaming of his back matched by the screaming in his head, nearly sending him back into blackness.
After the pain had settled to a dull roar, he braced himself for the next wave of pain that was inevitable when he moved his right leg, he looked down at the offending and offended limb and wondered could that thing really be attached to him the swollen mangled mess making him want heave, this is gonna hurt, here goes. Taking a deep breath and tensing the muscles of his thigh and calf he slid the limb over the earthen floor, the few seconds it took to get the leg pointing in the direction of the of the metal object the sun had highlighted albeit briefly left him drained and panting with the pain.
Thunder rolled over the barn rattling the shaky foundations. The storm was almost overhead. A flash of lightning lit the interior for a brief moment before he was cast back into near darkness.
When he had the other leg in position he rolled himself back onto his side and began pulling and pushing his battered body forward feet first inch by painful inch keeping his right leg as still as possible. Sharp stones embedded in the earth dug into him cutting into his thigh and hip.
Compared to the other wounds covering his body it was like a splinter and a small price to pay for a chance at freedom.
He was within a foot of his target when the chain pulled taught, damn it, I'm short.
Pulling against the manacles he stretched his left leg out yet further, wriggling his toes into the dirt, the darkness had concealed the object he now aimed blindly for he prayed he was close to the spot.
Dean was just beginning to think that he was in the wrong spot when it revealed its presence stabbing into the flesh in between his questing toes, clamping his toes around it, his back muscles burning and jumping as his back was stretched to its limit the damaged blood vessels breaking open fresh blood ran warm across his back.
With the cool thin metal firmly between his toes he pulled himself back relieving the pressure on his arms and back, he bent his leg and peered at the object, another flash of lightning showing him what he wanted to see, he sighed with relief it was just the thing he needed a hairpin, fallen from Rae-Anne's birds nest hair as she had beaten him senseless.
Now all I gotta do is get it from my toes to my hands… easy, not.
The first drops of rain pattered against the tin roof and soon turned to a load almost deafening roar as it pounded the worn rusting metal.
Electricity crackled through the air as another flash of lightning was closely followed by the loudest roll of thunder so far. The storm was right overhead.
Taking in as deep a breath as his battered back would allow, he wriggled back closer to the chain the hairpin still clamped between his toes. When he was directly underneath the pulley he bent his leg up as close to his chest as he could grateful for a naturally flexible body and strong muscles. Taking another deep breath he flicked his foot inward at the same time releasing his hold on the pin. It landed a few inches away to his right side. With a burst of adrenaline coursing through him Dean rolled onto his stomach fighting the pain and dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him then turned his head to the side and extended his head as close to the pin as he could, after a couple of failed attempts he managed to get his teeth around the pin along with a mouth full of earth. Breathing through his nose he rolled back over trying to keep his back off the earth. Much as he had earlier he grasped the chain above the manacles and using the already tortured muscles in his shoulders and arms pulled himself up and back, lifting his butt off the ground until his mouth was in line and close to his hands. I gotta do this right cuz if I drop it I don't think I've got the strength to do it a second time.
The lightning flashed almost constantly and the thunder shook the barn; the walls vibrated with its fury the rain still pounding mercilessly against the roof breaching the old metal through numerous holes hitting the earth in a constant stream and bouncing up mud-filled splashes.
Trembling with pain, blood loss and near to physical exhaustion he transferred the pin into his right hand, twisting his hand to get the pin into the lock on the closest manacle. After a bit of fumbling the end of the pin slid into the lock, a few seconds later there was click and the manacle slipped open, not stopping to celebrate his success, with his now freed hand he made short work of the second manacle. Only then did he rub at his lacerated bruised wrists, looking around the barn to see if there was something he could use as support, his eyes falling on the pile of discarded machine parts. In amongst them were odd pieces of timber.
Using his elbows and forearms he dragged his protesting pain filled body across the now mostly damp muddy floor towards the pile, passing under several small rain waterfalls. The rain water cooling the burning stinging pain in his back, diluting his blood and sending rivers of pink down his sides to mix with the mud underneath him that now coated wherever his body touched the muddy ground.
This whole escaping process is taking way too long. Dean didn't know how much time he had before that she devil came back, but it was unlikely she would venture out in this storm; he had to get out before it passed.
Finally reaching the pile he grasped the end of a piece of worn graying timber close to the bottom not able to strain and reach up too high, splinters buried themselves into his palm. He pulled hard willing the pile not to come tumbling down on top of him. The pile shifted alarmingly as the timber moved in his grip. He held his breath as he continued to pull, letting it out in a whoosh as the wood slid free, the pile remained standing. The timber piece was an off-cut about four feet long and 2x4.That will do nicely; I can also use it as a weapon if I need too.
Using the wood Dean forced himself into a crouched semi standing position; trying to ignore the lightheadedness, pain and the fresh flow of blood along his back the movement caused. Distributing his weight between the makeshift crutch and his good leg while resting the injured one gently on the ground, he took a tentative step towards the barn doors unsure for the first few seconds if his jelly legs would even support him, a white hot pain shot up from his injured ankle but to his surprise he stayed on his feet, so he took another step and another until he reached the doors, pushing on the closest one until it was open enough for him to step through resting his shoulder against the jam for a brief moment gathering himself to keep moving forward to freedom and Sam.
The rain was falling straight down in a solid sheet the stray drops gathering on top of the door frame splattering his face and muddy chest; reluctantly he shoved away from the support of the door and into the rain.
Within seconds his skin was soaked, the mud and blood coating him washing away down his shivering body. Dean lifted his face to the soothing stream, opening his mouth and letting the rain fall into it.
The rain revived him a little; he blinked the water out of his eyes, his eyelashes clumping together with moisture and looked around at his surroundings. Being unconscious when he was brought here this was the first time he had seen outside of the barn.
A flash of lightning lit up the sky and for a split second he saw in front of him and slightly to the left of the barn a farmhouse, it was a good distance away. Instinct told him the way out of here was on the other side of the farmhouse; he would have to pass it to get out of this godforsaken place.
Another roll of thunder filled the air around him. The amount of time between the lightning and the thunder was getting longer that meant the storm was moving away. Dean knew he had make good his escape while the noise of the storm and the rain still raged; as it was good cover and it was unlikely that bitch would come out in it. If he hurried he hoped to put a good bit of distance between himself and the farm before the storm moved on.
In the darkness he could only make out the outline of the farmhouse, leaning heavily on the wooden stick he took to steps towards it and then stopped dead as a rectangle of light appeared from the house and a figure was silhouetted against the light.
Dean knew it was her. Damn it too late. He pivoted on his good leg turning back to the barn using the barn as extra support he made his way as fast as he could along the front of the barn away from the house, reaching the corner he turned down the side still hugging the old boards, when he got to the juncture of the back and side wall he stopped and looked around. Which way? The lightning flashed again showing him the way. With adrenaline once again pumping through his system and without hesitation Dean pushed away from the barn and angled to his left, towards the cornfields the lightning had given up.
He had got no more than fifty yards when he heard her high pitched anger-filled yell, muffled slightly by the rain. "Noooo, Daddee, Daddee he's gone."
TBC
Will Dean in his weakened condition make good his escape? Or will Rae-Anne and Wade recapture him? Will a sick Sam be able to convince the sheriff to help in the search for his brother? If not will the sheriff arrest him for stealing the car?
These burning questions will be answered in chapter 8. So stay tuned!
Thanks for reading, please review.
Silvertayl
