Thankyou so much for all the lovely comments. I didn't realise how many chapters it would take me just to get here, but to know that people are enjoying it means a lot : )
SIX DAYS
Sam yet again glanced over at his brother instead of watching the road ahead. The other was huddled in the passenger seat, his face turned defiantly away from Sam to stare out of the side window, deep within his own thoughts. He had spoken so few words to Sam since the younger man had finally managed to track him down the previous day, and was showing no signs that that was going to change any time soon.
Sam thought for a moment, then reached his long right arm so he could cover Dean's left hand with his own larger one. He meant it to be taken for support, for acknowledgement that words didn't matter as long as his brother knew he was there, but Dean flinched at the touch, glanced down and removed his own hand immediately to lay across his own right knee and out of reach of Sam when he was driving.
The younger man sighed but he couldn't blame the other. He might have an idea of what had happened the last few days, but he would probably never truly know. And he wasn't sure that he would ever want to.
This last week had seemed one of the longest of his life. They had returned from talking to Ash with new hope that they could find the yellow-eyed demon, and Sam had new hope that now he knew Dean was being watched he would be able to keep him safe. Just as long as his brother would actually tell him if he saw anyone around. But he was hopeful that if he kept on enough at him, and kept a far better eye on Dean as well, then he would be safe from that man. For the first time since their dad had died, he had gone to bed that night in an optimistic mood.
A mood that had only got better when Dean had followed his instructions without complaint for the first time and joined him in the small bed. He had even not grumbled when Sam had wrapped himself around him, but instead had actually put his own arms over his brother's and held them even tighter to him, almost as if afraid that that might be the last time he ever would. Sam had been wondering about it when he was falling asleep, but he would wait and ask in the morning….
Only to find that Dean had gone. At some point in the night he had taken the old car and left, to god knows where and for why.
Sam had awakened, surprised and more than a little annoyed to find himself alone in the bed when he had given specific instructions to his brother to wake him. He had hurriedly dressed and run outside, determined to help Dean finish the Impala. Only to find it in a far worse state than it had been the day before and no sign of his brother.
Bobby had come running at the sound of his panic. "They've taken Dean! They've smashed the car and taken Dean!" He was already back in the house, finding his weaponry: as many guns and ammunition as he could. "Dean's gone!"
"I know he has, Sam." Bobby's quiet voice stopped him in his tracks. "But he hasn't been stolen from you. The old car's gone. He said he was going last night."
"What? What are you talking about? And what the hell's happened to the Impala: it's….."
"That was your brother last night. He…had more than a few issues he needed to work through and that's the only thing he could take it out on. He said he'd be back as soon as he could."
Sam was pissed. His language was as bad as his mood, and he wasn't going to apologise to Bobby for what he said to him about trust, and how he was responsible for Dean not the old man, and how he shouldn't be backing Dean up because it wasn't his place any more, but all with a few more words involved. And Bobby stood quietly and sadly, and took all of his abuse.
Then Sam had tried to call Dean on his phone, but his brother had turned his off, and instead he had thrown a few things around the small bedroom, and tried to call Dean again, and sworn some more and determined to do something to get his brother under control. How dare he just go off somewhere: wasn't he worried at all by being watched? What the hell was he thinking? Sam just couldn't understand it at all.
Then because he couldn't do anything, and didn't know what to do anyway, he had ignored Bobby for the rest of the day and instead had spent the entirety of it on his laptop trying to trace any sign of the car, or any symbol or emblem or anything matching that man's ring that he could think of, and trying Dean's cell phone at least twice an hour, every hour.
Finally he had pulled across the box with the dagger and began to research about the weapon.
Bobby had been sitting at the table watching him by this time. He could tell the exact moment that he made the connection between its arrival and his brother's disappearance.
Sam had been muttering away to himself in vicious frustration: "Look at the price of something like this! This is rare! Even a new copy is in the hundreds... how could dad ever have afforded something like this? And who could he have called in favours from? Nobody liked the man: he'd fallen out with everyone! I never thought I'd miss him as much as I do, but, the man was a bastard. Lying to me about Dean like that. Using him as a trade for..."
All the colour suddenly drained from the young man's face. Bobby thought he was going to collapse as the last vestige of youthful naivety was ripped away from him. "Dean's the trade for this, isn't he?"His voice had suddenly gotten barely louder than a whisper. "My dad traded my brother for a night, or longer, with a man like that man for this...thing. That's where Dean's gone, isn't it? Isn't it, Bobby? Why the hell didn't you tell me? Why didn't he?"
The expression of sheer horror on his face would remain with Bobby for the remainder of his life. "Oh God, where has he gone, Bobby? I've got to stop him! We could give the dagger back..."
The old man sighed. "I suggested that already, Sam. But he said it was too late, that their part of the deal has been done. Even if we threw the thing in the trash, they had done their part! Dean just wanted to get his part over with..."
"And you just let him go, Bobby?!"
"I didn't want to, Sam. I hate this. I hate the thought of... But he knew the moment he opened that package. He knew he didn't have a choice or they'd be coming here..."
"There must be a return address! We could send it back! Say it never got here! Where's what it came in?"
"There was nothing, Sam. It was hand-delivered. Right outside the door there. They know Dean got the dagger alright."
Sam stared at him. Bobby would never forget that expression for as long as he lived either.
"Are you telling me... they came right to the door?" This was said in a definite growl of anger that Bobby felt through his entire body. "To here? What about the dog, I thought he was a guard dog?"
"They drugged him. And he's old and wary of everything after that demon bitch threw him across the yard and broke his leg."
"But they came here? Right up and into the yard and here? They could have bust in, right into the house! My god, I've been afraid of monsters all my life, and all along it's been fucking humans that are after my brother and I can't protect him from them!"
"He doesn't want you to, Sam. He wants you to stay out of it and be safe."
"Like I'm gonna do that, Bobby! Are you? Now you know about him? Are you going to stay out of it?"
"No Sam. No I'm not." The older man lowered his head. "And I tried to stop him, wanted him to tell you, but he was worried they'd come for him anyway and you'd try and get in the way." He paused, felt tears prick as he sighed. "I'd hoped it was over when you registered him. Probably so did he. And then that damned parcel arrived and... God knows what he must have been thinking about it all."
"That's why he smashed the car up last night." Sam flinched suddenly at another thought, and if it were possible, paled even more to an almost grey colour. "He let me hold him last night, Bobby. As if he knew he might not be coming back. I've got to find him, Bobby. And I've got to find a way to stop this. How do I stop this, Bobby?"
"Hold him how, Sam? Never mind, it don't matter. I don't know, Sam, but we will. And once he returns, we'll find a way to keep him out of the hands of those men and to keep him safe."
But it had been another six days before they finally heard from Dean.
Six days that neither of them had hardly eaten or slept during, and were both too afraid to say out loud what they had been each secretly dreading. In the end, it was just a simple text to Bobby's cell phone: Back in a couple of days, tell Sam not to worry.
Sam immediately had been frantic.
"He would have come straight back if he could have, not texted. He's hurt and laying up somewhere so I don't know how bad he is." He was already fiddling with his laptop as he was speaking, his long fingers flying over the screen faster than Bobby could watch. "Damn it, Dean Winchester, if you've turned your phone off on me again, I swear I'm gonna... There!"
"What's that, Sam?"
"GPS signal. From his phone. It's locating him."
"I thought you needed a password to do that? Surely only Dean would have it? How did you...?"
"Oh I hacked into his phone months ago. He's in California! Can I borrow your van, Bobby?"
"No, but you can drive us."
"I'm telling you he's hurt, Bobby. I might have to stay with him a while."
"Then you'll need someone else to drive his old heap back. I'm coming Sam. No argument."
It had been a long, hard, best part of a twenty-four hours straight drive through the night to get there. Sam kept checking the satellite signal, but Dean, or his phone at least, hadn't moved in the meantime. They followed it to California, then eventually the grid on the screen had magnified into a county, then a road map of a town, until by the next evening they had followed it straight to a small motel where there found the old car parked.
Bobby went to make enquiries at the desk.
"They recognised him. Arrived here five days ago. Paid straight up for a week. Went off in a smart black limousine that evening, they couldn't see who was in it. They saw the limousine again early yesterday but didn't notice if he's returned yet. Room 12a on the first floor. I've got us a room further along."
Sam picked the lock of door marked 12a while Bobby stood guard.
Bobby had had a long hunting career, and Sam a short intense one. They had both seen some terrible things that would haunt them for probably the rest of their lives. But neither had been prepared for entering that room.
The smell of stale blood had hit them the moment they entered. The beams of their flashlights had revealed Dean to be beneath the covers on the bed. Sam hurried to check his pulse and was relieved to find him alive but as near to being unconscious as it was possible to get. An open container of maximum strength, over the counter, pain-killers on the bedside table was probably part of the cause of that.
While Bobby hurriedly counted how many were missing from the bottle, Sam was pulling the sticking sheets down from his brother's back. He had winced and looked up at Bobby, his eyes wide with horror.
They had both studied the bruises and dark welts that once again Dean was covered in: there were vivid ligature marks around his neck and wrists where it looked as if manacles and, Bobby had felt his stomach twist and lurch inside him, it looked like a tight collar of some sort as well had been used to restrain him. He had obviously been snake-whipped as well as beaten. But there had been nothing done that would permanently mark the skin; nothing deep enough to cause a scar; nothing that a slave-owner could sue for damage to his property for: whoever it was that had done this had been in complete control and knew what they were doing.
Sam hesitantly pulled the sheets lower: the staining on the bed and Dean's clothes showed where the aroma of blood was coming from. Bobby felt bile start to rise uncontrollably as he not only took in the scene on the bed, but also the expression on the younger man's face as he visualised what had been taken as 'payment' for that dagger. Suddenly the fate of the yellow-eyed demon that had killed their mom and dad, as well as his girlfriend, was looking safe in comparison to what was to come to the man that had hurt his brother.
Sam had motioned for him to return to the door where they had conversed in whispers.
"I don't think he's overdosed, Sam. They're just strong meds, but he looks like he needed them."
"I'm not going to try and move him, Bobby. I'll see how he is when he wakes up. I'm staying here with him."
"I guessed you would, boy. I'll bring you some food."
"No. I just want to see he's okay first. I... thanks, Bobby. I'm sorry for how I've been, I didn't mean to say all those things..." Sam hesitated but then couldn't hold his anger inside any longer. "I'm going to get this bastard, Bobby."
The older man had studied his face: he could suddenly see John in the young man, he had the same single-minded hatred in his eyes. Bobby could only pray that he wouldn't throw away everything else that he had as his father had done, just to get revenge.
"You and me both, Sam. Text if you need anything."
Sam had closed and locked the door behind the older man and shrugged off his shoes and enough clothes to climb into bed with his brother, ignoring the stained and sticky sheets without a single thought about them. All that mattered was that he be in physical contact with Dean and to try and reassure him somehow that he wasn't alone anymore.
His brother stirred a little as his long arm wound round his waist. "Sam?" The other could hardly hear him, his voice was so cracked and pained.
"Shush. Yeah, it's me. As soon as you're well enough, I'm gonna kill you. But now just go back to sleep."
"Sammy, I ..."
"Shush, don't you worry: I'm going to find who did this and take care of them."
"No, Sam." Dean was trying to wake himself up enough to argue. "This was dad! He made the deal. You're not to do anything. You're mine to protect, and I'm telling you to let it go."
"Go back to sleep, Dean. You're safe now, I'm here." He had tightened his arms, pulled Dean's battered and bruised body to his chest and felt him relax with the warmth and the contact between them. Soon Dean was breathing regularly again as healing sleep once more overtook him.
Sam had watched him for a long time, scared of looking away in case this had just been a horrific dream that he had found him and not reality. Eventually he had nuzzled Dean's ear with his lips before trying to get some sleep himself: "And you're mine to love," he had finally responded. "And as for letting this go? There aint no way in hell!"
All these images were still running through Sam's mind while he was driving Dean back to Bobby's. This time when he reached out his hand to his brother he sharply slapped Dean's leg with the knuckles of his hand. Dean turned immediately to stare at him. Sam wasn't taking a refusal this time: he pointedly held out his hand and indicated for Dean to let him take his own. Dean glared but obeyed, letting Sam lace his long fingers between his own smaller ones and hold them together as one.
"In answer to this morning's: 'why did you even bother to come to find me, Sam?' I always will, Dean. Always."
There was no response at all from his brother.
"You okay?"
Dean shrugged, but didn't reply.
"Dean?" His tone was sharper than he intended: he could hardly imagine, he didn't want to imagine what the last few days had been like for his brother. He felt even guiltier as Dean sighed, swallowed a couple of times and struggled to respond.
"I'm okay, Sammy," His voice was harsh and wrecked, as if his throat was still incredibly sore inside and causing him a lot of pain. "I'm sorry, I had no choice."
"I know." It was all Sam could manage to say. He wanted to shout. A lot. But not at Dean: there was nothing to shout at him about. Well...no, not at that moment anyway. Somehow Sam was going to stop this. "Is that it? Are there any more deals I should know about?"
His brother considered: Sam sighed as he again glanced over and saw how tired and drawn he was. "I don't think so, Sam." He had to stop and try to moisten his throat again before continuing. "But... But I had forgotten that one. I just hope there's not." He paused, his thoughts consuming him. Sam saw his green eyes swim with moisture for a moment "Why did he do it, Sam? Why save me? For this? Why couldn't your dad just let me die, then you'd never have had to know about this? He could have lived. Why did he die for me?"
He winced as his brother's fingers tightened around his hand, but Sam needed him to listen: he had had the same thought ever since their dad had died and the truth had come out about his brother. And he needed Dean to understand. "He loved you, Dean. He really did! And he was so proud of you: you were his son. No matter what you think. And I'm so glad he let you live, because I couldn't be without you. Believe me on that."
"He loved me, huh?" The sudden bitterness in Dean's raw voice stunned him." Where am I sleeping tonight, Sam? Like father, like son eh?"
Sam didn't understand. He wasn't sure he wanted to understand. And he was too tired to worry about it. But he continued to hold Dean's hand tight and kept on driving as the other once more turned away to stare out of the window.
Finally they drew up outside Bobby's house. Sam parked and went to help Dean out, but he was ignored as the other painfully pulled himself to his feet.
"Let's get you inside." Sam grabbed the bags and headed for the door. He looked back and swore under his breath as he realised that Dean wasn't following. Instead he had headed off in the direction of the Impala. Sam sighed, threw the bags in through the door of the house and followed him, catching up to where Dean was standing staring at the damaged car.
"Bobby tried to repair some of it for you." Sam murmured. "But he couldn't get the dents out of there. Or there. It looks like you went at it with a crowbar or something. But we swept all the glass out, and replaced the windows…"
"Thanks." For a minute Sam thought Dean was going to fall, he hurriedly put his arm around his waist in support. Dean's eyes were once again tearful. "I never wanted you to know any of this, Sammy. Especially when I became part of the deals… I'm sorry for what I said in the car. I'm sorry for not letting you know I had to…. He should have just let me die. I wish he had."
"I'm glad he didn't. Of the two of you, I need you. Come on, let's get you inside."
"Sammy, if I really work hard on Baby, can we get out of here? Please? Just get back to what we were and get away from here?"
Sam smiled down at him. "Of course we can. But we're going to work on the car! And you're going to rest up! But Dean. You've got to tell me everything in future. Whether I like what I hear or not, I have to know, okay?"
"Okay."
"I mean it, Dean. You tell me."
"I will, Sammy."
This time he allowed Sam to help him into the house.
He managed to do as he was told for the rest of that day: he was still in too much pain to argue. But early the next morning found him once again working on the Impala, with his brother appearing an hour or so after with a few curses and threats aimed in his direction.
And a few days very hard work saw the Impala well on her way back to her original pristine shape. He noticed Sam often glance around as they worked, just checking that they were really alone this time. But at least there was no sign of anyone at all watching for now.
And if Dean should just happen to occasionally notice the sun glinting off the lenses of high powered binoculars in the distance, well then, he kept that information to himself.
