Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this and Gredelina1 for all your help and support.
Chapter Nine
The drive to Missouri was tense. Sam plotted out the route for them, announced he had found a good spot for them to lie in wait for the doctor, and then lapsed into silence broken only occasionally with muttered Enochian. Dean bore it in silence for a while and then he asked, "What are you saying?"
Sam turned incredulous eyes on him. "I'm asking him about his day. What the hell do you think I'm saying, Dean?"
"I don't know," Dean said quietly. "I'm sorry." He was aware that it had been an insensitive question. Curiosity had gotten the better of him though. If Sam had wanted him to know what he was saying, he would have spoken in English.
Sam shook off his apology. "I'm telling him I'm getting him back," he said.
Thinking maybe Sam was opening up a little, he asked, "Does it help? Talking to him I mean."
"No," Sam said bluntly. "I don't think he can even hear me."
"Then why do you do it?"
"Because it's all I have," he said. "There's the smallest chance he can hear, and I want him to know I haven't given up."
"Have you told him about the Mark?"
"No," Sam said with a sigh. "He never told me about Cain or the Mark. He told me everything else. He told me about Lilith and all the other demons, all the terrible things he had done, but he never told me about this, so he obviously never wanted me to know. I think he was ashamed, so I don't want to make it harder for him by telling him I know."
"And what about when he comes back and sees it?"
Sam shrugged. "I have to hope it's gone before then."
Dean bit his bottom lip. He didn't think getting rid of the Mark was going to be that easy. Castiel had said as much. He had a very real fear that the Mark was something that was there for life. His hope was that when Sam got Lucifer back, he would be back to how he had been before—love-struck, happy, disgustingly cute with his lover—but he wasn't confident. This was as open as he had been with Dean for weeks, and yet it was still just a shadow of what they'd once had together.
Sam glanced at the map displayed on his phone. "Take the next exit."
Dean turned on the blinker and they left the highway.
They drove along a long road sparsely spotted with large, gated houses, and Sam directed them to stop at a stretch of untended fields. "This'll do," he said.
Dean hadn't even cut the engine before Sam was out and walking around to the trunk. He popped it open and rooted through the contents. Then, with a sound of triumph, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a pistol.
"What are those for?" Dean asked.
Sam looked almost amused but his tone was flat as he answered. "Do you think she'll sit quietly in the backseat if we ask her nicely?"
Dean hadn't really considered that aspect of it. He guessed he should have known that kidnapping was going to involve some form of violence.
"We're not shooting her!" he growled.
"What good would that do us?" Sam asked curiously. "We need her alive if she's going to get us into the vault."
"No shooting anyone?" Dean checked.
"No shooting," Sam confirmed.
He tucked the gun into the back of his pants and the handcuffs in his pocket and then leaned against the side of the car.
"Now what?" Dean asked.
Sam rolled his eyes. "We wait for a garish Hhummer."
Dean bit down the annoyed retort at Sam's superior tone, knowing it would do no good anyway. It might even make Sam take off on his own to do this.
Sam stared pointedly at the end of the road, waiting for a flash of a car on the horizon. Suddenly, he stepped forward and said, "Here she comes. Get on the ground."
"What?" Dean asked.
Sam sighed impatiently. "How do you think we're going to make her stop?" He glanced back and sighed, irritated. "The hell with this." He drew back a fist and before Dean could vocalize a question, he had been socked in the stomach by his brother. He folded forward, gasping for breath and trying not to puke. Then he felt a blow on the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground, consciousness deserting him.
As Dean folded forward, Sam brought his clasped hands down on the back of Dean's head. Dean dropped hard before Sam had a chance to ease his descent. He quickly turned away and checked the progress of the approaching truck. It was close but not close enough for her to have seen what he'd done. He bent down and pressed his fingers to Dean's throat. His pulse was strong and steady; he was just unconscious. He would probably be pissed when he woke up, but that was nothing new lately.
When the sound of the truck's engine was close, slowing, he straightened and rushed into the road with his hands raised above his head. "Help!" he shouted.
The Hummer pulled to a stop on the side of the road and the driver's door opened. The woman that climbed out was pretty in a too-groomed way. She rushed towards them as Sam started speaking in a panicked voice. "Help me! My brother just collapsed. I don't know what's wrong with him. He was fine a minute ago." As he spoke, he hurried back to squat at Dean's side and laid a hand on his forehead. He was willing Dean to stay out as long as this took, or at least to be smart enough to play along. "I can't get a signal on my cell to call an ambulance."
"Reception can be spotty here," she said. "I'll check mine."
"Thank you," Sam said gratefully.
He waited until the clack of her heels had moved away and then he rose smoothly and pulled the gun from the back of his pants. He crept behind her as she leaned into her car and rooted through her purse. He clapped one hand over her mouth and pressed the muzzle of the gun into the back of her neck.
"Are you Doctor McElroy?" he asked in a low voice. "Nod or shake your head."
She nodded.
"Good. Now, put your hands behind your back."
She slowly withdrew her hands from her purse and brought them to the small of her back.
"I'm going to remove the gun," Sam said. "If you try to do anything dumb, like try to run or scream, I am going to shoot you in the foot. It won't kill you, but it'll hurt. Understand?"
She nodded again and Sam removed his hand from her mouth and tucked the gun under his arm while he cuffed her hands together. He turned her and saw tears swimming in her eyes. He felt like an asshole, but it was what needed to happen for him to get the Blade.
"Now, we're going for a ride. Are you going to behave if I put you in the front or do you need to go into the trunk?"
"Who are you? What do you want from me?"
"No speaking unless I say so, please," Sam said mildly. "Are you going to behave?"
She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Good." Sam tugged her arm. She stumbled but Sam held her up. He opened the front passenger door of the car and watched as she backed into the seat and then pulled her legs inside. He slammed the door and then turned his attention to Dean who was still prone of the ground. He bent and slapped his cheeks. "Wake up, Dean!" Dean's head jostled but his eyes remained closed.
With a sigh, Sam opened the back door and hefted his brother up and onto the backseat. He had to bend his knees to be able to close the door. When Dean was in, albeit uncomfortably, he slammed the door and walked to the Hummer. He grabbed the doctor's purse and then bent to the front left tire. Using the tip of his switchblade, he pressed down on the pin to let the air out of the tire, and then, satisfied that anyone seeing the abandoned vehicle would believe she'd gotten a flat and walked to one of the houses for help, he went back to the Impala and climbed in behind the wheel.
He tossed the purse onto the floor of the backseat and tucked the gun under his leg then started the engine and pulled out onto the road. He glanced to the side and saw the doctor was visibly shaking. He thought he should probably reassure her that she wasn't going to be hurt, but he didn't want to devalue the threats he'd already made.
"This won't take long," he said instead.
She whimpered and he rolled his eyes.
"We're just going to take a trip back to your office, pick something up, and then I'll let you go."
She squeaked as if she was about to speak and then caught herself.
"What?" he asked.
"We don't keep cash in the office," she whispered.
"Didn't think you would. I want something else I heard you have. It's technically not even stealing, as it belongs to me already." His hand came absentmindedly to the mark on his arm and rubbed as he described the blade he was looking for.
He'd checked the location of her offices on his phone when they'd been driving to town, and was confident he would be able to find it. Nothing said pathetic quite as much as your abductor asking for directions.
They were almost there when he heard a moan on the backseat. "What the hell?" Dean groaned.
"You okay?" Sam asked. "Need me to pull over so you can puke?"
"No," Dean said testily, pushing himself upright and looking around. Sam watched him in the rearview mirror as his eyes fell on the doctor sitting awkwardly in the front seat with her hands cuffed behind her back. "What the hell have you done?"
"This is Doctor McElroy," Sam said easily. "She's going to help us out."
Dean drew a deep breath that was apparently supposed to calm him, but it did nothing for his tone as he asked, "Did you hurt her?"
"No!" Sam said irritably.
"Did he?" he asked the doctor.
She cast Sam a nervous glance and he said, "You can talk to him. He'll never shut up if you don't."
"He pressed a gun into the back of my neck and handcuffed me, but he didn't hurt me."
"I'm sorry about this," Dean said apologetically. "Neither of us are going to hurt you. We just need your help."
"He said we have something of his," she said.
"I guess you do," Dean said thoughtfully. "As soon as he has it, we'll let you go."
The woman was clearly terrified, and Dean felt like an asshole for allowing her to be involved in this, but it was what they had to do to get the Blade, Lucifer and therefore the real Sam back. They really had no choice.
Sam drove them to a pair of heavy gates and pulled up beside a keypad console. "What's the code?" he asked.
"It's eight-eight-one-five, but you… you need a card, too," she said.
Sam scowled. "It better not be in your purse."
"It's in my jacket's inside pocket."
Sam reached over and pulled open her jacket then rooted inside, pulling out a card that looked like the sort they'd used to unlock hotel doors in the past. Sam leaned out of the window and slid the card into the slot then entered the number. There was a beep and the gates opened.
"How much security are we facing?" Sam asked.
"The card and code will get you to the vault, then there's two guards."
"Armed?" Dean asked.
"Yes."
"Awesome," Dean groaned.
Sam shrugged. "We'll handle it."
"Please don't hurt them," she begged.
Sam's lips pressed into a thin line.
"We agreed," Dean reminded his brother. "No shooting anyone."
"Fine," Sam huffed like an eternal teen, pissed at the world.
Dean and the doctor both breathed a sigh of relief and Sam rolled his eyes, as if he couldn't understand what the issue was. Dean supposed that, in his current state, he really didn't.
They drove to the main door and Sam parked in the spot marked for the doctor. Dean climbed out and opened the doctor's door. She looked afraid and didn't move until Sam had stepped up beside him.
"We're going to take the cuffs off now," he said. "If you try to run or alert anyone to what's happening, you'll regret it, understand?"
"You said you wouldn't shoot," she said tremulously.
"I did," Sam agreed. "But I know all kinds of ways to hurt someone without a gun. You much of an actor? Do any amateur theatre in college?"
She nodded. "A little."
"Good. Now you're the lead. We're private buyers and you're giving us a tour. Anyone we meet better be convinced of that, okay?"
"I can do that. There shouldn't be anyone but Matthew and David though. There's usually only additional security on site after hours."
"Then it'll be even easier for you," Sam said.
He pushed her forward and unlocked the cuffs at her back. She brought her hands in front of her with a hiss of pain. Dean had been cuffed and tied up enough times to know how much your muscles burned after being trapped in the same position too long.
"Come on then," Sam said impatiently. "Let's get going."
She got out of the car and Sam slammed the door closed behind her. He handed her the keycard and gestured for her to open the door for them. Her hands shook slightly as she entered the code and the door clicked open.
Sam gestured her in and they looked around. There was a desk opposite the door where he guessed a receptionist would usually be seated. It was empty now though. There was no sign of anyone else there at all.
"Which way?" Sam asked.
She nodded to another door and said, "This way," as she walked towards it. They followed her though it and another until they came to a place with glass walled rooms.
He looked inside, certain that at any moment they were going to meet someone working late or one of the aforementioned security guards, but there was no one. They came to another door, a heavier and more secure one than they had met so far, and the doctor came to a halt.
"This it?" Sam asked.
"Yes, the security guards will be through here."
"Then put your game face on," he said. "We're eclectic millionaires, remember, that you're showing your best bits to."
She nodded and swiped the key through the panel and entered a code. The door swung open automatically and Sam walked through. There were voices and what sounded like a televised baseball game on.
They entered and Dean saw a room with a small television balanced on a filing cabinet. Two men were there and they were facing away from the television, looking at the door.
"Doctor McElroy," the larger of the two said. Dean could see muscular arms beneath the white cotton of his dress shirt. "We weren't expecting you back till tomorrow."
"Hi, Matthew," she said. "I forgot that I had a prearranged appointment with these gentlemen. They're here to look at the Windsor collection with a view to a purchase."
Both security guards eyed them curiously. "I see."
Sam sighed and said, "Is this going to take long? We do have a plane to catch."
"Of course not, sir," the doctor said. "Right this way."
"Would you like us to accompany you?" the second guard asked.
Sam looked him up and down disdainfully. "I don't think your expert eye will be necessary. We know what we're looking for."
They seemed offended but also less suspicious. They were obviously used to dealing with asshole buyers.
"If you would follow me," the doctor said, leading them to a door at the other side of the room. Sam raised his head arrogantly and Dean tried to imitate him as he followed them into the second room. The door clicked closed behind them and Dean looked around. The room was lined with shelves of neatly labeled plastic gray boxes.
"Good job," Sam said. "You get the Oscar."
She laughed a little shakily. "Thanks."
"Now, which box is it?" Sam asked.
"G-4.8."
Sam scanned the shelves, but Dean found it first and called to Sam, "I got it."
He pulled it from the shelf and set it on the steel table in the middle of the room. He unlatched the lid and opened it to reveal a cloth wrapped bundle. Dean reached to lift it out, but Sam pushed his hand away. He opened the coverings and Dean saw a long blade formed of a bone with a leather wrapped handle. Even without knowing the history behind it, Dean would have known it was ancient. Its history was etched into every inch of it.
Sam reached in slowly and gripped the handle. He froze, his eyes wide and pupils dilated, and his knuckles whitened.
Dean laid a hand on his arm and felt his muscles tensed like rocks. Then he flinched as there was a burst of static as red light passed from the handle up his arm to just below his elbow. Dean could see it beneath the sleeve of his shirt.
"Hey!" he said. "You okay?"
Sam's jaw was tensed but he nodded.
"What's going on?" the doctor asked.
Neither Sam nor Dean answered her at first. Dean watched carefully as Sam's jaw slowly relaxed and his eyes returned to normal.
"Nothing you need to worry about," Sam said dismissively. "We need to get out of here."
"Yes," Dean agreed. He wondered how they were supposed to get the Blade out without the security guards noticing though. He was pretty sure there was usually more than cash exchange and carry out involved in buying from this place.
"You're going to let me go?" the doctor asked hopefully.
"We said we would, didn't we?" Sam said. "You've just got to get us out of here, and you'll be free go. You can get a cab home, right?"
She looked immensely relieved.
"Nice job, boys," Crowley said behind them.
Dean spun on his heel. "What are you doing here?"
"Wanted a progress update," he said. "Didn't expect you to have it already. You've exceeded my wildest expectations."
"I thought you couldn't interfere," Sam said.
"I can't and I'm not. I'm just a casual observer."
There was a knock on the door and a voice called, "Doctor McElroy. Is everything okay in there?"
The doctor looked from the door to Sam with the wicked looking blade in his hands and Crowley who had inexplicably, to her at least, appeared. "Fine," she said in a high voice. "We're just finishing now."
Sam sighed. "There goes your Oscar."
There was beeping as someone entered the code to the door outside, and it started to open. Dean waited with bated breath as Sam tucked the Blade back into the box and reached for the gun in his pants.
"Sam," Dean warned.
The door flew open and Dean had a glimpse of a gun before he was thrown back against the wall. His head hit hard and he heard the muffled sound of a gunshot through his ringing ears. There was a grunt of pain and then a curse. Dean shook his head and blinked to clear his vision. Sam was standing in front of him, his stance tensed. He didn't seem to notice the blood wetting the sleeve of his shirt.
"Sam!" Dean gasped.
"You really shouldn't have done that," Sam growled.
Dean pushed away from the wall and reached for him, but Sam had already launched himself forward. There was another gunshot, and the doctor screamed as Dean's heart failed, but Sam was still moving. He kicked the first guard's gun out of his hand and grabbed the second's and pointed it at the ceiling. There was a third shot and then both guns were on the floor. Sam brushed them away with his foot and then threw a punch at the bigger guard's stomach. He folded over as the breath rushed out of him and he dropped to his knees. Sam punched the other guard, and his nose spouted blood. He hands came up to his face and Sam socked him in the stomach, too. With them both on their knees, heaving for breath, Dean staggered forward and grabbed Sam's arm.
"We have to get out of here," he said weakly. The second blow to his head in as many hours had done some damage that made him feel weak and slow.
Sam wasn't listening though. He was aiming kicks at the security guards. They were grunting as the blows landed. The doctor was cowering against the wall and Crowley was watching Sam with a look of professional appraisal.
Dean reached him and wrapped his arms around Sam's chest. There was no moving him though; the combination of Sam's strength and the weakness from Dean's head injuries defeated him.
"Crowley!" he snapped. "A little help!"
With a long-suffering sigh, Crowley grabbed Sam's shoulders and yanked him back. Sam growled like an animal and Crowley chuckled. "Save something for Metatron, Moose."
Sam slowly relaxed and Crowley released him.
Sam bent to the guards that were moaning with pain. "Shoot at my brother again, shoot at anyone and I'll make sure it's the last thing you do." With a sick thunk, he slammed their heads together, knocking them both unconscious.
Dean grabbed a bandana from his pocket and fumbled to tie it around the bloodiest point of Sam's arm. "How bad is it?" he asked.
"Just a graze," Sam said confidently. "You?" He stared into Dean's eyes and sighed. "Your pupils are blown."
"I'm fine," Dean said. "Just a concussion."
Sam turned to Crowley. "Get him back to Bobby's. Now."
"What? No!" Dean said. "We need to get you fixed up. You're bleeding, Sam."
Sam ignored him. He looked at the doctor that was cowering in the corner and said, "You are going to forget everything you saw and heard tonight. You have traumatic amnesia, understand?"
She nodded jerkily. "I can do that."
"Good." He went back to the table and picked up the box containing the Blade.
"What about them though?" she asked, looking at the guards on the floor.
"I don't think they'll be able to remember their own names for a while. We don't need to worry about them. Now, Crowley, get Dean home."
When Crowley hesitated, he lifted the box in his arms and said, "Take him home or I'll test out this Blade on you."
Crowley rolled his eyes. "Since you asked so nicely, I will." He walked over to Dean and put a hand on his shoulder then turned to the doctor. "See you in six years, dear."
She looked confused, "What?"
Crowley didn't answer. He squeezed Dean's shoulder tightly and Dean felt himself being dragged away under the demon's impetus.
So… That was a new side to Sam. He was a lot of fun to write like this. How was he to read?
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx