Dean must've dozed off, because the next thing he realized, he was jolting awake. Cold and hungry, he squinted in the weak light coming in through the window.
"Are you awake?" Sam's voice was a terrible rasping sound, and Dean looked down to find Sam hadn't moved from his slouched position against Dean.
"Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep," Dean whispered. His legs felt numb, and he gingerly shifted, accidentally jostling Sam. "Sorry."
Sam wasn't paying attention to him, focusing on his shackled hands. "We need to get out of here," he muttered.
Dean watched him uncertainly. "You have any ideas?" One of Sam's hands was swollen and bruised from his previous attempt to get out.
"A few." Sam let his hands fall back down to the ground. "Help me up."
Dean looked at him dubiously. "I don't think that's possible, man. You're pretty messed up."
"You sit in that position any longer and you won't be able to move. Or run." Sam gave him a look from upside down that managed to still look commanding.
Dean touched Sam's face, not missing his brother's flinch. "You're made up of bruises instead of skin," he argued, "and lying on the ground isn't going to help that."
"I've had worse," Sam said blandly. He pushed himself up to a hunched over position, startling Dean.
"You're an idiot," Dean said, as Sam swallowed, entire body shaking. Dean gently put his hands on the least bruised places he could see and tried to support the guy.
"I need you to massage me."
Dean blinked, and tilted his head to stare at Sam. "Did you say what I think you just said?"
Sam's head bobbed up and down. "Gotta be able to move. You need to break up the stiffness."
"Dude, that sounds like a terrible idea."
"Just do it," Sam snarled.
Dean obeyed, avoiding the scabbed over welts and trying to focus on the primary joints. Older scars made awful, thick ridges underneath his palms, and Dean wanted to avoid them as well. Each wounded sound that fell from Sam's lips made him cringe, and by the end of it, Sam was panting and sweating profusely.
"You've been talking like this happened before," Dean broke through Sam's pained noises. "Is that where all these scars came from?"
From the little Dean could see of Sam's face, his brother's face become completely flat and unemotional. "Yes," came the short reply.
"What happened?"
"I was taken and tortured. Mom saved me. That's all."
Right. Maybe a change in topics. Dean shifted, his chains clinking softly as they dragged across the floor. He knelt, getting his arms underneath Sam's armpits. "Okay, easy does it."
"Wait, what are you—"
"You need to lean against something. Come on." Dean gently lifted Sam, propping them both up against the wall so that Sam's back was against his chest.
"Why are you doing this?" The question was quiet, so quiet that it almost seemed like Sam was talking to himself.
"You're my brother," Dean murmured. "And I've been missing from most of your life, so I gotta make up for lost time now."
"I sold you out," Sam said. "I've been treating you like dirt. Why—"
"Look, man, don't make me say it again. You're my brother. Plus, that selling out moment was only to make sure the vampires took you instead, don't even lie." Dean lifted up Sam's bitten forearm, examining the bite mark. It seemed swollen and red. "This hurt?"
Sam's head turned, his sharp cheekbone digging into the top of Dean's shoulder. "You're strange," he mumbled.
"Says the guy with an extensive knife collection."
"My knives are awesome." Sam's hair brushed Dean's chin. "Here's the plan." His voice stayed on the exact same low register. "The vampires will take me. When they do, I'll pretend to collapse, snag the keys, and then toss them towards you. You need to make sure they don't make any noise when you catch them. Get out of this place, and go find my mom."
In the silence that followed Sam's plan, he managed to tilt his eyes, dizzily looking up at his brother's face. Dean was pale, but thankfully still uninjured, which raised his chances of survival.
Finally, Dean responded. "That's a terrible plan. They'll drink you dry while I'm gone."
Sam shook his head, feeling Dean's thick leather jacket slide against his hair. "They want my blood for longer. They'll keep me alive."
"Sam, you can't just—"
There was a clanging noise from outside their room. Dean stiffened, curling an arm around Sam's ribs. Sam weakly tried to shove it away.
"Breakfast time." A girl came in this time, keys swinging from her fingertips. Sam remembered her taking her time, drinking with slow licks and weirdly nibbling on his arm.
Sam let himself be dragged from Dean's grip, despite Dean's protests. Barely two steps away, Sam let his knees give out, snagging the keys before his knees crashed painfully against the wooden floorboards. As the vampire cursed at him, Sam used the last of his strength to toss the keys backwards, straight towards Dean.
Dean was smart enough to rattle his chains and curse at the vampire to mask the sound of the keys. Sam nodded approvingly as he was dragged into the other room.
He bit back a whimper as his sore arms were dragged above his head, chains threaded onto a hook.
"How long are we going to drag this out?" Evan asked. He eyed Sam like he was nothing more than a piece of meat.
"Lucy, you want first go again?"
Lucy was probably the leader. Sam eyed her wearily as she approached. "If you have to feed so often, how come we haven't noticed you before?" he mumbled.
She smirked at him. "We can go for weeks without drinking. We simply drink whenever there is the opportunity to do so."
"Great." Sam could do nothing more than wiggle a little on the end of his hook. "You mind getting this over with?"
Frigid fingers swept down his back. Sam tensed automatically, but no pain followed.
"You have a lot of scars already. It would be a shame to ruin this, since someone obviously took a lot of care on your back. So James here is going to spice things up a little."
Sam had no warning before a current of electricity ran through his body.
"Writhing like a fish on a hook," Lucy said with satisfaction.
"Go to hell," Sam gasped.
She pouted at him. "That wasn't very nice." Her teeth extended, and she bit down on Sam's inside of his upper arm, forcing a yell from between his teeth. The instant she stopped drinking, the electricity came back, in a vicious pattern that seemed to have no end, until Sam was finally left feeling light-headed and barely conscious, body jerking in aftershocks.
The voices around him were buzzing, strange and distorted. "We need to save him for at least one more feeding."
"It's a pity we can't hang onto him longer. That blood . . . can you taste that power?"
"I won't need to feed for another month."
Sam felt his arms being tugged and released. He fell with little grace, body crumpling on the blood-stained floor.
"Evan, take him back in and prep the other one. We need to make sure he's in good condition as soon as this one's drained."
Sam felt almost distant from his own body as he was tugged across the floor, bound hands in the strong grip of a vampire.
There was an outraged cry, and Sam's arms were dropped. He lay still, breathing through a blood-filled mouth with difficulty.
Frantic movement surrounded Sam, and he could hear the vampires yelling, leaving the building.
There was a strange vibration, and screams.
"Well, darling, it looks like it's just the two of us."
Sam blinked through his crusty eyes, seeing the fuzzy outline of James. He had no voice to respond.
"Lucy'll be furious if I kill you now, but your blood will give me the power to take over, finally."
Strong hands lifted Sam. He weakly tried to twist, but his battered body would no longer obey his commands.
"This won't hurt for too long," James said, his voice almost soothing. "Just relax."
A stabbing pain drove into the junction between Sam's neck and shoulders. He gurgled, fingers scrabbling against the floor, but there was nothing he could do as the world began to fade.
Mary swallowed, her unease making it difficult to stay still. Beside her, Dean was also twitching, in a constant state of stress ever since he had escaped and found Mary.
"Can't we go in now?" Dean asked. "They're torturing him, drinking his blood."
"There are too many of them," Mary said. "We wouldn't be able to do anything. This plan will work."
Yells came from inside the cabin. Mary stiffened, glancing at Dean. "You ready?"
He nodded, the set of his face reminding Mary sharply of John when he had first come back from deployment.
The vampires burst out of the cabin, running through the front door in a pack.
Mary flicked the switch, and the explosion rocked the trees around them. Sam had been saving their explosives. Hopefully he would forgive her for using them up.
"Now!" She darted forward, shotgun raised. The first vampire that came along, Mary blew its head off. At least five of them had been taken out by the explosion. Beside her, Dean wielded his machete, slicing through a vampire trying to rise from the ground.
They became a sinuous team, blasting their way through the vampires in their way. Once they made it through the front door, Mary let Dean take the lead, following him deeper into the once-magnificent cabin.
Dean saw Sam first, and let out a cry of outrage. Mary snarled as well, once she saw the vampire bent over Sam, mouth latched onto his neck.
Mary wasn't sure who killed the vampire, as she unloaded two shells and Dean darted forward, hacking brutally at the vampire.
Only once the vampire was in pieces did Mary focus on her baby.
"Sammy," she cried, swooping down to press a hand down against his bleeding neck and two fingers to his carotid. His pulse was faint, barely there. Mary shuddered, assessing the rest of his wounds.
"Mom, what do I—"
Mary barely registered that Dean called her mother for the first time. She met his gaze. "Quick, get me something to staunch this flow and then get something to help carry Sam. We need to get him to a hospital."
Dean didn't argue, leaving only to return in a moment with supplies.
Mary gently palmed Sam's face, turning him to her. "Sammy, baby, wake up, please." She silently apologized, digging her knuckles into his sternum. The groan was so faint, Mary wasn't sure she actually heard it.
"There's an old sled," Dean dropped to his knees beside her. There was new blood on his hands, possibly from a vampire they had missed the first time through. Mary nodded, tying the makeshift pressure bandage tight.
Between the two of them, they managed to get Sam onto the sled, his blood staining the old wood red. Mary would have to return to the cabin to burn everything, but the only thing that mattered at that moment was Sam. The instant they got to the road, they called 911.
Mary knew death; by the time the ambulance arrived, Sam was hovering near the edge. Terror left no room for conversation as she followed behind the ambulance, Dean silent in the passenger seat.
The usual charade—filling out the forms, patiently waiting for the doctors—set Mary's teeth on edge.
"I swore it wouldn't happen again," she said. At her side, Dean's bloodshot eyes came to rest on her. "I swore I would keep him safe. But every time—" Mary clenched her fist hard enough that her nails pierced the skin of her palms.
Dean's hand came to rest on her fist, uncurling her fingers. "He'll be okay. Sam's a tough kid."
"He shouldn't have to be," Mary whispered.
Dean had no response.
A/N: I do not have the ability to write a story without hurting Sam. It is fact.
