"Get up slowly!" Mike barked at them, eyes seething with anger. Cautiously, Dean began to rise, pulling Sam up with him who grunted in discomfort as his wounds were stretched. Standing, the brothers hedged their way backwards, away from the two approaching Hunters, guns still aimed at their chests. Dean stopped, glancing down behind him, heels just barely touching the edge of a Devil's trap. Looking back to the other Hunters, his jaw was set mind racing, trying to find a way of escaping.
"Get in the trap, Dean." Mike ordered, a small glint of triumph in his eyes. Dean stood still, glaring at him, refusing to step into the trap.
Gritting his teeth, Mike snarled "Fine. You have three seconds to get inside that trap or Harry's going to fill your brothers chest with iron rounds." Harry turned wide eyes to Mike, face pale but the glare he received made him nod his head quickly, focusing his wavering aim directly at Sam's heart.
Dean flared his nostrils, eyes landing on the rope dangling from one of the beams in the barn.
"One."
Focusing on it, it began to twist and curve in a serpentine motion, descending down.
"Two."
Gliding through the air and towards Harry, the rope curled back, like a snake ready to strike.
"Three."
Dean threw himself in front of Sam as the shot rang out, iron rounds clawing their way through his chest, eliciting a pained yell as the rope surged forward, length twinning tightly around Harry's unprotected throat and pulling him into the air, garbled scream of shock and fear cut off by a resonating snap, as he neck was broken.
Mike howled in anger, seeing Harry's limp body hanging from the banister, gaze vacant and jaw slack. Turning his enraged gaze back, Mike was tackled to the floor by Dean, eyes black and filled with hatred. Slamming his fists into the Hunters face, Dean shouted "Sam, get out of here!" as Mike blocked his blow and sent his own punch flying into Dean's jaw, dislodging him from his perch on his waist.
Sam lurched to his feet, swaying slightly as he became light headed. He staggered towards the doors, calling "Dean, come on!" and was about to call again when the booming echo of a gun firing went off and searing pain bloomed from the center of his chest.
Eyes falling down, Sam watched as deep red began to stain his shirt, spreading out in a darkening pool. His ears were ringing and his knees hit the floor with a dull thump, the barn tipping on its side as Sam fell.
Hearing the shot, Dean raised his head, an anguished "NO!" tearing from him as Sam's body hit the floor, blood drenching his shirt. Snarling, he slammed the First Blade between Mike's eyes, his body giving a final twitch then becoming still.
Lunging to his feet, Dean spun, black gaze landing on Jason, gun still smoking and advanced towards him. Jason aimed at Dean, firing an iron round into his left knee cap, making him stagger and leg giving out from underneath him. Snarling, Dean tried to get up, only to be shot in the leg again and fall down with a pained yell. Glaring at the Hunter, Dean watched as Jason pulled out an anti possession amulet from around his neck.
"Don't even think about smoking into me, Dean." Jason said, twisted smile on his face as he aimed at Sam. "You might wanna say goodbye to your little brother, Dean. But, then again, you'll probably see each other soon enough in Hell."
Throwing his gaze to a pale and struggling Sam, Dean's eyes returned to normal, worry, determination and another emotion swimming in them. "I'm sorry, Sammy." He muttered, before he threw his head back and smoked out of his body, twisting through the air and down Sam's throat.
Jason yelled, pulling the trigger but Dean stopped the bullet mid-flight, sitting up in Sam's body. The piece of metal fell harmlessly to the floor and Sam's eyes flitted black, as he held his hand up and sent Jason crashing into the back wall, limbs spread eagle and pinned down.
Dean grunted as Sam screamed at him, throwing himself forcefully against Dean's hold. Dean pushed Sam down, carefully climbing to his feet as to not shift the bullet in Sam's chest too much and cause more damage.
"You hurt my brother, you son of a bitch." Dean seethed, eyes blazing.
Lifting his hand, the instruments and blades on the table and floor rose with the motion, hovering in the air, points facing Jason. His eyes widen in horror, mouth opening and closing as desperate pleas flowed from him.
"Dean, please I'm sorry! I won't come after you again, I swear! I'll forget everything's that's happened! Please don't kill me!" He cried, heart racing and body drenched on sweat.
"I let you go twice already. I'm not into third chances." Dean said and sent the blades flying.
Jason screamed as the blades pierced him, embedding themselves into his hands, arms, shoulders, chest and legs. Some went completely through, piercing the wall behind and pinning Jason to it. Dean lowered his hand, power receding and Jason's body dropped slightly, howling as some of the blades shifted and cut deeper into him, but prevented him from falling. Jason raised his head, sweat falling into his watering eyes and a weak "Why?" being uttered.
"Oh Jason, I'm not going to outright kill you. I'm going to leave you as you are, pinned to the wall with the blades you cut Sammy up with. What will happen is your weight and gravity will slowly pull you down, while the blades lodged into the wall behind will continue to cut you nice and slow, but when you eventually fall, you'll impale yourself on them. So, you're going to either die from blood loss or from being impaled. Either way, it will be some time before you die, try to enjoy it." Dean smirked, picking up his body and walking out of the barn, Jason's weak screams cutting off as he pulled the doors closed.
Appearing in the bunker, Dean carried his body to the shower room, depositing it in the lonely bath tub in the corner. Sam continued to pound against Dean's hold, weaker now and Dean looked down to the blood stained shirt.
"Hang on, Sammy." He said, pulling the shirt off and heading to the kitchen with the first aid kit. Cleaning the blood from Sam's chest, Dean used a pair of tweezers to tentatively pull the bullet out, pouring whiskey over the wound and grunting at the sharp sting. Carefully Dean stitched the wound shut, placing gauze and taping bandages down.
"Dean, get out!" Sam shouted feebly.
Shaking his head, Dean replied "I can't Sammy. If I leave now you'll die. I'm only staying in here long enough to heal you, then I promise I'll be out."
Sam's protests died down then, too weak to argue and knowing that Dean was right.
"This is messed up." He complained, a trace of humor tinting his words.
Smirking, Dean answered "Tell me about it. I feel like a newborn giraffe. Your legs are too damn long! I have to teach myself how to walk again."
Sam chuckled tiredly and smiling a little Dean said "Take a rest, Sam. I'll look after you."
For the next few hours Dean healed Sam as quickly as he could, popping over to various motels in small towns, filling buckets with ice from their outside freezers and appearing back in the bunker, pouring the ice into the tub containing his body to stop it from going into rigor mortis. Body finally surrounded by ice, Dean blew out a breath, excess energy making him jittery but being at a complete loss of what to do with himself. Walking to the main area, he took in the chaotic mess he had created, feeling resolved to fixing the room.
It took about two hours for him to have the room in a similar condition to how it originally was, having been distracted by flipping through some of the books and reading their contents.
Sam's stomach growled loudly, Dean noticing for the first time that he was hungry. Opening the fridge, he found it empty of anything worth eating and with a sigh he appeared outside of a random 24 hour gas station. Walking into the overly bright building, Dean picked up a basket, heading to the pastry section and throwing three pies in, apple, cherry and pecan, as well as bread, a variation of different cold meats and a 6 pack of Budweiser. The cashier, a spotted teen with braces, rung up the total and Dean handed him a couple of bills, giving him a smile that didn't reach his eyes when the kid continued to stare at the cuts and bruises on Sam's face.
Having eaten the majority of two pies, Dean relaxed back in the chair, feet planted on the table surface, eyelids drooping shut. Even though Dean didn't need to sleep, Sam's body needed rest to help recover. Swinging his legs to the floor, Dean strode down the corridor to Sam's room, checking first on his body and then flopping down into the soft mattress, thinking he would have to get the Impala with Sammy's stuff the next day.