Hello everyone and thanks for tuning in for another chapter! I hope you will enjoy and feel free to drop me a line to let me know what you think. I'm not sure if another chapter will be out before Santa comes to town so I would like to wish you all Happy Holidays! Thanks for reading! :)
It happens in the blink of an eye yet to Dean the scene seems to play out in slow motion. He can't focus. He can't seem to make his body react. It's like he has been split into two different entities. He finds his mind is filled with memories. Of all kinds. Hunting. With Sam. Laughing. With Sam. On the open road. With Sam. He catches movement beside him and blinks to try and lift the fog, the memories that invade his mind. Sam is there, he holds a knife and a container of blood. Questions flood Dean's brain. What? Blood? Why does Sammy have blood? Dean feels his mind click back into gear. The mind of the other man who shares his body now shows itself. Right. Blood. I want blood. I need blood. And Sam is going to give it to me? He is bringing it to me? No, that's not right. Something does not fit.
Dean's heightened senses tell him in an instant. The pungent aroma that makes him gag and wrinkle his nose tells him. This blood, it is not the delicious, thirst quenching remedy that he seeks, it is bad. Poison. Tainted. Dean realizes that Sam is not holding the liquid that will help him, he grips the blood that will hurt him. But, why does Sammy want to hurt me? Why? But. Wait. Sammy? He stabbed me? But. Why? Dean thinks about it for a moment more and it becomes crystal clear. Right. Because he hates me. I am a monster.
Sam doesn't say a word while he watches the confusion and disorientation flash across Dean's face. His brother looks lost, unsure of what has happened to him and what is about to happen. Sam takes the chance to act so, while his eyes remains on Dean's face, he pours some of the contents of the container into his hand. In one quick and fluid motion, Sam lifts up the fabric of Dean's shirt and presses his bloodied palm into the other man's open wound.
Any thoughts that had tumbled inside Dean's mind cease instantly, replaced by the burn, the seething pain and heat that erupts wildly within his side. He clutches at the wound and reaches out to grab Sam for support. He watches his brother easily sidestep his attempts and he goes down in a heap of agony. Not again. That is the next thought that infiltrates Dean's confused mind. Shit. He can feel the poison seep into him, it runs through his veins and saps him of his strength and power. Shit. Stupid hunters.
Satisfied that Dean will not be able to lunge at his throat any time soon, Sam steps back and takes a moment to gather his wits. He was very close. Close to being the lowest on the food chain just a moment ago, and he sure the hell does not want to find himself in that position again. For the first time since he resurfaced from the depths of the cage, Sam thinks it may have been actual fear that ran through him while Dean had a vice grip on his throat. Then again, he can not remember what it is that fear feels like.
Samuel slowly opens his eyes and gazes upon another not to be believed sight. His two grandsons. His own flesh and blood. One stands above the other, both are bloodied and bruised. Dean lays on the floor, an obvious knife wound displays itself across his side. He moans and groans and clutches and claws at his wound. Sam stands in silence, one hand drips blood from its digits to the floor below, the other holds both a blade and an empty container. Shit. Samuel sees the unmistakable outline of bruises on Sam's neck. Bruises that look to be in the pattern of a hand print. Samuel shivers at the thought. Sam's neck, Dean's hand. Man, it has been one hell of a night for these boys. "Sam, are you okay son?" The older man notices the turn of Sam's head towards him and a silent affirmation as to his condition displayed through a nod. Sam approaches him, offers an arm, and with his aid, Samuel slowly rises to his feet. He wavers slightly and the instant formation of a nasty headache reminds him that had Dean clocked him but good. He doesn't remember much after that but, by the condition of the two Winchester boys, he knows he must have missed one hell of a show.
"Samuel, you should get that damn cure set up, we need to get it into him before he has another go at us." Sam watches the older man shuffle off and begin to combine all the ingredients. It looks like nasty shit. He moves his gaze from Samuel to Dean. He really wants this night to be over. Sam feels a flash of anger towards the man sprawled out on the floor. He drags Dean across the ground to the chair that he had occupied earlier. The younger brother bends down, picks up the ropes that lay discarded on the floor, but stops at the sound of Samuel's voice.
"No Sam. Do not restrain him. This is not going to be a pleasant experience for your brother and I am not sure how his body is going to react. Best to leave him loose."
Sam looks to Samuel as he makes his way back to the brothers. He has a cup of the cure in his hand and a look of determination on his face. "Samuel, he has already gotten loose twice and I do not want to risk having another confrontation with him. He had me by the throat Samuel. He was going to kill me. He was so strong. So set on getting to the blood. My blood. He... it's just. He isn't Dean. I don't trust him. Not right now." Sam sees his grandfather's gaze soften slightly. "Let's just get him secured on the chair Samuel, it will be safer. For all of us."
Dean can hear muffled voices but can not seem to make out what they say. He is sore. Everywhere. He feels pain. Everywhere. He still lays face down and works to turn his head to try and figure out what conversation is going on around him. He can make out the figures of his brother and grandfather and they look to be absorbed in some kind of intense discussion. He can tell because Sam's shoulders are tensed up and Dean feels an involuntary shudder flow through him as his eyes focus on Sam's bloody hand. He can't remember. What did Sam do? What did he do? Is Sam okay? Gotta make sure Sammy is okay. Dean moves his hands up to his sides and attempts to lift himself up from his position on the floor. He groans and collapses back down when the pain increases ten fold. He notices his movements have now caught the attention of the other two men and he closes his eyes to block out their stares.
"Look Samuel, he's already trying to get up. It won't be long until he is back up to his vampy potential and I am not going through that shit again. So please, let me do this."
"No Sam. Look at him. He can barely move so he is no threat to us. We will get him up on the chair. We will give him the cure. Then we will have to wait and see what the results are. No restraints Sam. Not this time. He needs our help. Your brother needs us."
"Fine" Sam spits the word out hard to make sure that Samuel knows exactly how he feels about this not smart decision on the old man's part. He moves in unison with his grandfather and together they heave Dean up from the ground and place him on the chair. Samuel moves in close to Dean's face and speaks to him gently and softly.
"Dean?" Samuel waits until he sees Dean's eyes on him before he continues. "I have the cure for you. We'll help get it into you and then you will have to ride it out. It is going to be unpleasant and I am not exactly sure how it is going to affect you. We will be right here, with you, for you if you need us." Samuel does not see any sort of recognition or acceptance in his older grandson's eyes so his gaze drifts to his other grandson. To say Sam looks pissed off would be a definite understatement. "Sam. Get behind your brother and hold his arms back. This is gonna get rough."
Dean's sense of smell is in overload. The repulsive odour ravages his nose and his throat. There is no way he is going to drink that stuff. He starts to struggle as much as his body will allow. He feels a sense of panic rise up inside of him at his body's refusal to listen to his commands. The panic increases exponentially when he feels his arms be grabbed and forced behind his back. He hisses at the pain that runs the length of his side and he scrunches his eyes shut to try and stop himself from expelling the bile he starts to feel rise up from his guts.
Samuel leans in and lifts the cure up to Dean's face. He frowns as Dean begins to move his head from side to side, as he does everything to prevent the liquid from entering his system. "Dean, this is what you have been waiting for. The reason you have made it this far. Please son, open your mouth." Dean doesn't answer, just continues to squirm and fight with all he has. "Okay Sam, plan B. Hold his head still."
Sam does not hesitate. He lets go of Dean's arms and grabs his head. He looks to Samuel and watches his grandfather pry his eldest son's mouth open. Sam can feel Dean sweat under his hands. He knows he has entered ultimate panic mode. He struggles to free himself, to avoid the inevitable, to avoid the liquid that will cure him. Sam feels his brother's weak attempts to remove his hands from his head and Sam can't help but feel a grim smile pass his lips as it seems their roles have been reversed. How does it feel Dean? Sam watches Samuel tip the cup and both men seem to hold their breath. It has finally arrived. The moment that all three men have waited for. To get Dean back. To cure him. To save him.
No. Dean feels the liquid enter his mouth. The sickening taste of it makes his stomach turn, his gag reflex activate. He spews the contents out and smiles tiredly as he sees it now decorate a lovely pattern across his grandfather's shirt.
"Okay, that is enough!" Samuel looks at Sam and shivers at the controlled rage he hears laced within his words. "Samuel, let me do it." The older man is reluctant but the look in his grandson's eyes makes him move. Sam will get it done. Sam will cure his brother.
Sam appears in Dean's vision and the older brother can't help but throw him a jibe. "Hi Sammy... I am not gonna drink that shit. You can't make me." It's Sam's turn to smirk and Dean watches him lean in, hears the beat of his brother's heart in his chest and drifts his focus to Sam's throat as his brother whispers into his ear. "Poor, misguided, and entirely wrong Dean. Sorry but yes, you are going to drink it and yes bro, I am the one who is going to make you."
Sam looks to his grandfather. "Hold him and follow my lead. Don't let go." Sam pries open Dean's mouth without any remorse for the obvious pain that he inflicts onto his brother as he does so. "Bottoms up." Sam pours the liquid into Dean's mouth, clasps his hand over his mouth so he can not spit the contents out, drops the empty cup onto the floor, and pinches Dean's nose closed.
"Okay Dean, let's see how long you can hold your breath."
TBC...