Dear all,
thought it was about time we had a chapter mainly dedicated to the brothers themselves and how they're both dealing with this latest bomb I've dropped on them.
Hope it isn't too pathetic and mushy, but please let me know if it is.
Regards,
ST.xxx.
A Debt Paid Part 10
Sam was really trying to think hard now. He couldn't believe how things had turned out.
Dean had fallen into a fitful doze a short while ago, but Sam was struggling. It wasn't that he couldn't sleep, just the opposite. He refused to sleep, scared that he wouldn't wake up again.
Sam had been scared a lot in his young life but never like this. Oh he wasn't scared for himself so much, well, may be a little. But he was absolutely terrified for Dean. Sam had heard the fear in his brother's voice as he'd explained the current situation. He'd seen the pain flash in Dean's eyes before he looked away, but there was something else there.
Sam knew what it was; guilt. Dean was blaming himself for all this, and if self-loathing was something the Winchester's were good at, then Dean was a fucking master. PhD even. From the University of Self-Hate, probably in some shit hole like Detroit.
What the fuck am I saying? Sam thought to himself smothering a laugh. I guess that toxin's really kicking in now. Never thought being poisoned would be like going on the happy juice.
His thoughts went back to Dean, and he lifted himself up a little to stare at him. His brother was stirring and muttering, his eyes moving rapidly around beneath the lids, and occasionally he frowned deeply. Dean still held Sam tightly to him, as though keeping him there would in turn keep him alive, keep him from falling.
Smiling sadly, Sam gently eased out of Dean's grip amazingly without waking him. Struggling to his feet and swaying dangerously, Sam staggered away already missing the warmth of his brother's embrace.
But he had to go. Somewhere. Away from here.
He didn't want Dean to have to watch him die, not like this.
Sam limped along as silently as he could into the forest, not really knowing what he was doing or where he was going. Already he was starting to lose his train of thought and could no longer remember what he was trying to accomplish. He stopped and leaned heavily against a tree, breathing fast. The right side of his abdomen hurt as his liver complained, but his leg was worse.
What am I doing again? Something about leaving Dean, not letting Dean see me….
"Dean?" He whispered aloud, unable to find the strength to yell.
Christ! Where is he? Is he alright?
Gotta find Dean….
In the gloom of the forest and the rapidly approaching night, Sam thought he saw someone moving through the trees and panicked.
He thought he heard someone call his name, but wasn't sure.
Backing away, he turned and tried to run, but in the growing darkness he didn't see the deep gully and plunged headlong into it.
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Skunk was on first watch and lay in the shadows, assault rifle cocked and ready, though the team wasn't really expecting any trouble tonight. Sadler won't be ready to come after them yet, though it paid to be prepared.
It was starting to get cold and he was glad of the extra layers he was wearing.
He liked this kind of duty, which was a rarity amongst his kind. Most found it intensely boring, rather like those whining private detectives when they describe their job on stakeout as unglamorous. It required a lot of patience, which was something Skunk had in truck loads. The job of explosives expert was not a career for the hot-headed.
At least not for long, he chuckled to himself. But he liked the quiet of the forest at night; it was one of the few times in his long career that he had any form of peace, so he was determined to make the most of it.
Skunk was just about settled when he heard a noise behind him. He glanced back to the clearing still bathed in dim firelight, and spotted one of the Winchester's getting to his feet. Skunk frowned a little when he realized it was Sam.
"He's not supposed to be up and around." He muttered to himself. "Perraps he's gone to splash his boots."
The younger brother seemed to be having some trouble staying upright, then made he's way out of the clearing.
Skunk glanced over to where he team mates were catching some shuteye, and picked up a pinecone.
Clink went straight from REM to being fully awake as soon as the pinecone hit him.
"What it is Skunk?"
"Sam. Looks like he's answering a call of nature. Just thought I'd warn you 'cos he's having trouble standing."
He pointed to where he's last seen the lad.
Clink nodded and quietly made his way over to Dean, who was just starting to awaken. Clink sped that process up by the heavy application of his elbow to Dean's ribs, who gasped for a second and then blinked rapidly, looking wildly around him.
"Sam?" His eyes came to rest on the Corporal. "Where is he? What's going on?"
"Easy mate," Clink placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Looks like your brother decided to go for an evening constitutional. Thought may be you'd want to keep an eye on him, make sure he's ok?" Clink could have done this instead but didn't think that would be appreciated by the brothers. He handed over a small maglite, "just in case."
Pocketing the flashlight, Dean nodded gratefully. "Which direction did he go?"
Clink pointed.
"Thanks man." The Corporal nodded and watched as the older Winchester scrambled up and ran out of the clearing. Clink decided to stay there until they both returned.
A few minutes after Dean left, the Doc appeared, her long purposeful strides suggesting that her sense of humour had packed its bags and run off with the milkman. She stopped when she saw Clink and noticed a certain lack of Winchester in the surroundings. She raised an eyebrow awaiting an explanation.
The Corporal kept it as short as possible given the mood she was in.
"Sam's gone for a leak and Dean's keeping an eye on him Sir."
The Doc nodded distractedly then bent down and started rummaging through her pack, pulling out virtually everything in there. "Where is it?" She muttered to herself. Then she seemed to find what she was looking for and her agitation waned to be replaced by relief.
Clink regarded the Doc with a strange look on his face, then turned back to the small fire, occasionally adding more fuel, though not much. Just enough to keep the fire going for Sam's sake; he'd need it when he got back to stave off the cold.
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Sam found himself rolling down a steep incline for quite a long way, his body taking rather a battering from the terrain, including a painful whack on the head. Finally he hit the bottom of the gully and came to rest face up in a muddy stream, and lay there stunned.
Sam blinked and tried to move but his wounded leg screamed in protest at the insult, having already pushed it too far today, so he stayed where he was. Then he felt the cold of the stream water seeping into his clothes and tried again. This time, with a loud gasp of agony, he pulled himself free of the mud with a grotesque sucking noise.
Sam groaned as he dragged himself a few feet back up the slope, then looked up wincing in pain. There was no way he was getting back up that without help.
His ribs hurt, breathing hurt, hell just thinking hurt!
Where the fuck am I? Where's Dean? His thoughts were jumbled and it was scaring him.
Sam laid his head back and frowned, feeling cold and tired.
Eventually, wondering why he hadn't thought of it before, he succumbed to blessed nothingness.
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Desperately searching the forest with his eyes, Dean whirled around trying to find some trace of where his brother had gone.
He was soon rewarded when he spied someone leaning against a tree, and recognized his brother's form in the dark.
"Sam?" But as Dean started towards him, Sam backed off, turned, and then disappeared from sight with a loud thump.
Shit! Dean started running. It seemed to take forever to get there but soon he was standing at the spot he'd last seen his brother.
Carefully taking a few steps around the area, he found the reason for Sam's disappearance. Remembering the small maglite Clink had lent him, he pulled it out of his pocket and shone it down the incline.
It was a deep ditch and Dean was pretty certain that his dying brother was down there some where. It would have been funny if it weren't so damn tragic.
Carefully climbing down the side, holding the maglite in one hand and using his other to keep his balance, Dean wondered what the hell Sam had been thinking coming out here by himself. But then, with the toxin working its way through his little brother's system, may be Sam hadn't been thinking at all.
These thoughts kept Dean busy for the next few minutes, holding the panic at bay.
May be Sam just needed to stretch his wounded leg… (Why didn't he wake me?)
May be Sam needed some time alone to come to terms with all this: it had been a hell of a day, and then to be effectively told he was dying, with no cure……
Dean came to a sudden halt, his blood running cold at next the thought.
May be Sam was running from him.
It wouldn't be the first time he'd pulled a stunt like that to protect his older brother. And Dean had to confess that he hadn't done such a bang up job in coping with Sam's pending death, especially when relaying the news to the poor guy.
Sam hated to see Dean suffer.
Oh god. That's it! He was leaving me so I wouldn't have to see him die.
Dean frantically sped up his descent.
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Terry strode up to the Doc with a dangerous glint in his eye. She was reading down a list of notes and sorting through some labeled Ziploc bags. His eyes widened, anger almost boiling over.
"You take those with you on every mission?" His voice was low and deadly.
The Doc looked up at him, not in the least bit worried by his tone. "As a matter of fact I do. I've never had to use them since that first time, of course. I always rely on modern medicine" She was back to using that bored-sounding voice that meant she'd made up her mind and wouldn't budge.
Terry huffed in frustration. "Doc…"
"Are you about to suggest that risking my life to save yours back then was a bad move? Not worth it? Are you that ungrateful?" She slipped from bored to almost catatonic.
The Sarge nearly lost it there and then. "What the fuck are you talking about woman? Of course not!"
She looked at him again. "Exactly Tel. I'm not letting Sam die for that same reason. Those lads are worth the risk."
"Doc you have a wonderful gift, but it carries too many risks, and not just to your life if it goes wrong." He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice sounding tired now. "If you perform that cleansing spell, particularly on someone like Sam Winchester then you may as well just light a big supernatural beacon on Mount Everest and invite all the occupants of hell to a cheese and wine party. With us being the cheese and wine!" His tone was getting angry again.
The Doc put up a hand to stop him. "If this works as well on Sam as it did on you all those years ago, then Sam should be fit enough for us leave as soon as we've packed up." She stared at the Sarge, willing him to let it go. "We can be at the RV point and away before Sadler figures out where we got to."
"Doc, Sadler's already begun sweeping the area for us. Give him another a few hours and he'll have our trail."
"Then we haven't much time to lose then. Right?" The Doc was grinning smugly, knowing she had him there.
"You really are a stubborn bitch."
"So they tell me. Oh and Terry?"
"Yeah."
"That's "stubborn bitch SIR" to you."
"Right sir."
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Dean swept the maglite around him, stepping and sometimes sliding down the incline at a dangerous rate. Looking down he realized that he'd almost reached the bottom, when he thought he saw something in the flashlight beam. Swinging it back round, Dean squinted into the cave-like gloom of the gully until he found him.
Sam was lying on his back deathly still, his face turned away from the light beam.
"Sam!" Dean scrambled over the edge of the muddy stream towards his brother, running a few feet up the slope to where Sam lay. Dropping to his knees, he gently grabbed Sam's shoulders and shook him. "Come on Sam! Wake up buddy!" Checking his neck he found a pulse that was far too weak for Dean's liking.
"Sammy" Dean growled, as he placed his palm on Sam's chest, feeling for the rise and fall that suggested he was breathing. There was a rise and fall, but it was only slight and shaky.
"Come on Sam don't do this to me." He whispered pulling Sam into his arms and getting no response. "Please? Stay with me little bro. Stay with me..."
Dean wept silently, not wanting his brother to hear him should he wake up.
But Dean knew that Sam wasn't waking up again. He was too far gone now.
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Clink approached Terry and nodded respectfully to the Doc.
"Sarge, they should've been back by now."
Terry reacted instantly. "Get Bastard off his fat lazy arse and put 'im on stag with Skunk. Clink stay nearby and keep low. Maintain radio silence just in case. Come on Doc." Clink nodded and headed off.
Terry and the Doc made their way out into the forest, the Doc carrying her precious "equipment".
With red filtered flashlights held out in front of them they started tracking the Winchesters. It didn't take long before they found the trail; Sam had obviously been too out of it to bother covering his tracks.
The Doc and Terry had adopted a five meter spread and were making good progress when the Doc let out a low whistle. Terry looked up sharply and silently made his way over.
"This must be where Dean caught up with him." Terry nodded at the Doc's statement and swung his torch around, and spotted the gully.
"This way," and the two of them made their way down, not daring to call out. If Sadler had caught up with them sooner than they'd thought then advertising their presence wouldn't be a wise move. They only hoped that Sadler wasn't responsible for the brother's disappearance.
Pretty soon, Terry and the Doc found them.
Dean was cradling Sam in his arms, head down and rocking to and fro. When the torchlight picked him out, he raised his tear-stained face and looked at them with cold, hard despondence in his eyes.
"If you've come to say your goodbyes you're just in time. He doesn't have long."
"He's still alive?" Terry asked hopefully.
At Dean's nod the Doc flew into action. Setting down her torch, she grabbed the Ziplocs and started making preparations. She handed Terry some strange looking candles and he planted them in the ground around the brothers.
"Dean, come away from Sam. This is too dangerous for you." The Doc was speaking as she was preparing.
Dean watched her in confusion, shaking his head. "I'm not leaving him."
"You won't be leaving 'im mate. You'll be right here waiting for 'im when he wakes up." Terry planted the last candle, and then forcibly heaved Dean to his feet. "If you want Sam alive and well, then do as she tells you." Terry pointed at the Doc who was lighting the first candles.
"What is this for fuck sake? A séance? Doesn't Sam have to be dead for that?" Dean retorted. He'd had enough. He was cold, tired and not in the mood for games.
The Doc turned to Dean, head bowed and staring at him, her eyes appearing to glow with an almost canine intensity in the candlelight. "You of all people should know there's more to this world than meets the eye." She turned back, sat on the ground and stared into the candles.
Dean stared in shock. "You're a witch?"
The Doc sighed at the interruption. "Being Christian rather than Pagan, I prefer the term natural mystic, but if you're more comfortable with witch then so be it."
"But what?..." Dean began.
Terry, who had stepped back to a respectful distance, grabbed Dean by the neck of his jacket and pulled him out of the way. He mouthed Later!
Dean swallowed hard and turned to watch his little brother lying there in the circle of candles. Fresh tears slid silently down his face.
Sam was barely breathing now as the toxin took over, shutting down his body bit by bit, and his face was now showing significant jaundice as his liver failed him.
The Doc leaned forward and gently picked up Sam's hand, closed her eyes for a second, then stood up. Her other hand produced a strange looking powder that sparkled in the dim light. It looked like crushed crystals, but not the kind that Dean had ever seen.
Slowly walking round, she allowed a small portion of the powder to fall in to each candle, which sent up a small fountain of sparks that lit the gloom of the gully. Soon all the fountains were firing and the Doc sat back down in her place, cross-legged. She picked up Sam's hand again, and closed her eyes.
It looked to Dean like one of those weird yoga classes that he'd once read about in some woman's magazine. He'd picked it up only because he was hoping to leer at some hot chicks in leotards; unfortunately, although there were chicks in leotards, not one of them was a day under eighty. He shuddered at the memory.
Terry was also watching the proceedings, but with a sense of familiarity. He'd been conscious when the Doc tried it on him, so seeing it from the outside was a whole new experience. But mostly he was watching the Doc for signs of distress or illness. He knew it wouldn't be long, because he could see the beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. This sort of spell had serious consequences for the user.
Sure enough, she let out a stifled groan and her body jerked violently. Dean shifted nervously and glanced at Terry. "She ok?" he asked in a low voice.
Terry merely nodded tightly, concern showing through the dirt on his face.
Dean watched as the Doc leaned toward Sam and appeared to be whispering to him, but he couldn't make out the words.
The fountains grew sharper, brighter, until it hurt to look at them. Both Dean and Terry closed their eyes to it, turning their heads sharply away.
Suddenly the light was gone plunging the gully into an almost-darkness.
There was a strange silence, like that before a storm, then a groan.
Dean and Terry turned back. The candles were still alight, but now Sam was sitting up and rubbing the bruise on his head.
"Sam?" Dean leapt over the candles to his brother, with barely concealed relief and concern warring on his face. Grabbing him, Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and held on tight. "Oh God Sammy, are you alright?" He leaned back slightly to check Sam over.
Sam was more than a little surprised to find himself in a bear-hug with his older brother.
"Yeah, I'm ok." He shook his head a little, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain, and winced.
"What is it Sam? You ok?" Dean had his hands at the side of Sam's head, staring at him closely.
"Yeah, I just hit my head on the way down here." Sam looked around in confusion. "What's with the candles dude? You holdin' a séance or something?"
Dean laughed at that and hugged his brother closely to him once more.
"We very nearly had to man." He breathed in Sam's ear, the strain of remaining fear still evident in his voice.
This time Sam wrapped his own arms around Dean, not knowing where he'd been but sure was glad to be back.
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"Doc!"
The boys looked over at Terry. The sergeant was seated on the ground with the Doc in his arms, shaking her gently. Her eyes were closed and showed no signs of opening. Terry's face was etched with worry and dread.
"Come on, wake up! We've got to move!"
But his friend remained silent.
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So, enough Sam and Dean for you? Not too mushy? I'd hate to demasculise (is there such a word? There is now!) the lads, not when there are other things I'd like to be doin to them.
Hurhurhurhur...