Summary: A rough school, an angry gang, and violent retribution leave Dean broken. Can his family find a way to bring him back from his dark world? Hurt/angst Dean and Sam. Teenchester. AU. RATED M.
Don't own any rights to the Boys, songs, or Ridley James' Brotherhood AU.
This story steps outside the bounds of Brotherhood approval and is not approved of by the Brotherhood creators. If you do not wish to delve into a dark story of violence, rape and torture that in any way involves Brotherhood characters, then please do not read this story.
After Chapter 13 was posted, the Brotherhood creators expressed a wish to the community that future stories involving the Brotherhood avoid the topics found in Dragonfly. Dragonfly is all but written and a revamp to exclude the Brotherhood would be most difficult at this point. Not impossible, but difficult enough that I choose not to do so and can only offer apologies to Brotherhood fans who have found offense, and to the creators of the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood creators and I have talked. I offer this disclaimer as some measure of a compromise to prevent further upset to those involved with the Brotherhood fandom.
I do not condone in any fashion, the abuse, violence, rape, torture, etc. that occurs in this story. That such things occur in the world we live in is horrifying. The aftermath of such deeds lasts a lifetime for those affected, both directly and as collateral damage. I wish I could say many of the sorts of events I've depicted in Dragonfly are an exaggeration of reality, but unfortunately, I know better. I really didn't mean for the brutality the boys experienced to be the focus, but rather how the victims and family deals with these terrible events and the psychological impact events like these can have. This is a disturbing topic and some readers may find it beyond what they care to read. My writing is graphic in some scenes though I try to be as light-handed as I can, when I can.
This disclaimer will prefix every chapter.
Rating: M. Warning. Some chapters have very mature themes of violence, torture, rape, murder, and attempted suicide.
Thank you all for your wonderful reviews of previous chapters! Thanks to my beta for her excellent suggestions! This chapter has been a real battle to get right and my beta didn't have a chance to re-review it, so any typos, etc. are all my fault. Sorry it took me soooo long to get this chapter up!
See my bio for updates on progress of my stories. Enjoy!
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Breaking the Wings of Dragonflies
Chapter 12
Welcome to the city
Welcome the gritty concrete
Where cons and creeps sweep sweet, pretty young girls off their feet
Off the Avenue, off the beaten path
Cops walk the beat and clash with the bad bloods
—Redefined, Cross Movement
Then:
March 18th, Deidersville, Illinois
Sam stood at the mouth of the alley and watched for the police, drinking sparingly from the opened bottle of water the clerk had used on his hand. He'd taken off the gun holster and stuffed it into the bag of supplies from the mini-mart, hoping the cops wouldn't notice it. His face was damp from when he'd tried to wipe the blood from his face, and that dampness only made him colder. The blood on his outer layer of clothes had frozen in the cold, stiffening the material. Even wearing three layers of shirts he was still freezing in the growing darkness.
Where are the cops? Sam thought, his frustration and fear mounting. If they didn't show soon, he'd go in again and try to pick the Dementors off one by one. This time he couldn't let his emotions get in the way. No matter what they were doing to Dean, he'd have to stay hidden. If he'd been smarter the first time, he'd have backed away, called the cops, returned, and shot Juarez from the shadows. If he'd done that, maybe he could have gotten Dean out and maybe Dean wouldn't have a broken leg. But they were raping his brother! Sam couldn't just stand by and watch them do that to him! …And what might they have done to Dean since Sam escaped?
His head snapped up when he saw the flashing lights of three cop cars approaching. Thank God, Sam thought, relief filling him as he waved the first police car down.
Inside the police car, Officer Jelena pointed out the kid by the alley. "That's probably the brother," he checked his notes, "Sam."
"Kid looks like he's taken a beating, too," Officer Tull said as he made the turn into the alley and stopped the car.
Jelena rolled down the window, almost wincing as the cold air hitting his face. The kid had blood in big and small splotches all over his clothes and his face was bruised in multiple places. Jelena figured the rest of him probably was too. "You Sam?" he asked, his breath turning to white vapor.
"Yes, sir. I can show you—"
"You need to let us handle this, Sam. We've got your directions to your brother. We'll get Dean out."
"But—" the boy started to protest.
"You need to stay out of the way and let us do our job, son. This alley can be hard to spot. You can help your brother most by staying here and waving down the ambulance when it gets here, okay?"
"Yes, sir," the boy said reluctantly and stepped back to the sidewalk.
The kid looked like he was about to cry, but they couldn't take the time now to comfort him; they had to get to his brother. Time wasn't on their side to begin with, if Sam had been right about how long the Dementors had been working his brother over. After they'd gotten to his brother and secured the scene, they could bring Sam inside. Jelena prayed it wasn't going to be for Sam to identify his brother's body. Going up against a gang—and the Dementors, no less—meant securing the scene was probably going to be a bitch.
Tull drove the car slowly down the alley, watching for movement in the parking lot ahead of them. The headlights shone onto the disturbed snowfall and red glistened, intermixed with the white crystals. "Looks like it may have started here," Tull said.
Jelena already had his gun out and was scanning the shadows for movement. Tull parked the cruiser to help block in the green Cadillac. Stepping out of the car, Jelena cautiously approached the Cadillac, shining his flashlight inside. There was blood in the backseat and the ignition looked like it had been hot-wired.
Tull took the lead as the four officers from the other two cruisers joined them. They approached the warehouse's pedestrian door. The officers lined either side of the doorway as Tull opened the door. Its screech seemed to echo in the night. Gun held at ready, Jelena stepped inside the warehouse and scanned the immediate area.
"Clear," he said softly and his partner joined him, followed by the others. The six officers moved silently, using the directions the boy had given dispatch to navigate the warehouse. They had each turned their radios down as low as possible and still hear if dispatch called.
Tull shouted, "Police, freeze!" when two teens came out of the shadows. The gang members immediately broke into a run, each going a different direction.
"We got 'em," Olvera told Tull as she and her partner took off after the boys.
Tull turned to the others. "We're getting near where the kid should be. Spread out and watch yourselves. No heroics. These are the Dementors we're talking about and they aren't afraid to shoot."
A few minutes later, Jelena saw a naked teen tied to a chair and three gang members taunting him. "Police!" Jelena shouted as he stepped out. The three gang members bolted. "C-20, three headed your way," Jelena said into the radio. "I've located the injured teen."
Hearing the pound of footsteps behind him, Jelena spun, ready to shoot.
"Dean!" Sam cried and, ignoring the startled officer and his pointed gun, ran to his brother's side. Dean was barely conscious; syringes littered the floor around the chair and Sam saw the numerous needle marks in Dean's arms.
Jelena exhaled in relief but cursed the kid for entering the scene. Who knew how many of the gang were still inside the building. Tull and Benton came out of the shadows and joined Jelena.
"Dean, can you hear me?" Sam begged and pulled off Dean's blindfold.
Dean whimpered and tried to draw away.
"It's Sammy. It's Sammy. I'm here. You're going to be fine."
Sam vaguely heard one of the officers say he'd stay with the boys and the resulting footsteps as the other police officers moved out in search of the gang members.
"Sammy," Dean sobbed. "No, Sammy, no!" he wailed softly.
"I'm here, it's okay." Sam gently placed his hands on either side of his brother's swollen and bruised face and turned it toward his own. "I'm here. I'm right here. C'mon big brother, come on. I'm here."
"Sammy?" Dean whispered, the name slurred and almost unrecognizable. His left eye was lost in swollen flesh and the right eye barely a slit. "I heard you screaming. I heard you. He said—he said--"
"I'm fine," Sam said emphatically, as much to reassure himself as to reassure Dean. "The police are here. We're safe. I'm going to get you untied now."
"They've handcuffed him, Sam," Jelena said. "I'll make sure the ambulance brings in a cutter for them.
Sam continued to ignore the cop and instead looked over at the table where his and Dean's belongings were scattered. He ran over and snagged his pocketknife and lockpicks. When he turned back around, he saw Jelena kneeling in front of his brother, his fingers on Dean's carotid. Sam wanted to yell at the cop to leave his brother alone, but told himself the cop wasn't hurting him, he was trying to help him. Moving to the backside of Dean, Sam pulled out the lock picks he'd brought and it took him only a few seconds to work the inside mechanisms and unlock the cuff on Dean's shattered arm. Sam grimaced at the trickle of blood as he pried the cuff from his brother's badly swollen flesh, but the bluish haze of the mangled hand began to look less blood deprived. Sam turned to the other cuff and, after picking its lock, angrily threw the cuffs away from his brother.
"How the hell…?" Jelena said as he stood up, seeing the cuffs skitter across the floor.
Sam didn't respond as he began to work at cutting through the ropes binding Dean's arms to the chair. Every time he jostled Dean's shattered arm, Sam heard his brother groan.
"I'm sorry, Dean," he whispered, trying to be as careful as he could and trying not to cry. Sam breathed a sigh of relief when he got Dean free. When Sam gently moved Dean's arm to his side. Dean gave a strangled gasp and a whispered, "No, please, no."
"I'm almost done, Dean," Sam told him.
Dean whimpered and pulled back from him. "No. Don't. Don't," he begged.
Sam clenched his jaw. He needed to get the arm splinted and in a sling to help minimize any more movement to it, and so he could get the arm above the heart. Spying a wooden crate nearby, Sam dashed to it and broke out two boards. As he brought them back, along with a sheet he grabbed that was lying on one of the mattresses, he heard the cop reporting on his brother's condition to the dispatcher. Quickly ripping a long strip from the sheet, he looked at the boards then looked up at the cop. When the cop finished talking on the radio, Sam spoke.
"Officer, can you help me splint his arm?"
"We need to wait for the paramedics," Jelena said. "We could make it worse."
Sam snorted. "Don't think it can be much worse. I'm splinting it, with or without your help."
Jelena stared down at the young boy and saw the determined look in his eyes. The paramedics were going to have to stabilize that arm before they moved the teen, and anything Jelena could do to help them get the teen out faster would probably be a help. Moving to Sam's side he accepted the boards Sam held out.
"One on the front and back of his arm," Sam told Jelena as Sam shook out the twists in the strip of sheet he held in his hands.
Placing the boards as the boy indicated, Jelena held them loosely there until Sam got the sheet started around them. He tightened them just a bit. "Don't tie it too tightly, Sam. That arm may swell some more."
"I know how to splint a broken bone," Sam said, barely keeping the growl out of his voice.
After he got the sheet wrapped around the boards a few times he stopped and made sure Dean's hand was still getting blood flow. Seeing that is was, he finished wrapping the boards and tied off the sheet. Tearing off a wider piece of sheet, he quickly created a sling. He handed it to the officer and then carefully and smoothly moved Dean's arm to his chest. Dean groaned. Sam motioned to the officer and Jelena wrapped the sheet under Dean's elbow and tied it around Dean's neck.
Sam was grateful to see the officer had already untied the ropes around Dean's ankles. Sam stood back up and made Dean face him again. "You're going to be okay," Sam said firmly. "Do you hear me? You're Captain One Helluva Big Brother and you're going to be fine." Sam put all the confidence he could into his voice. He felt a slight shift in his brother's balance as Dean straightened up just a little.
"Sammy?" Dean asked again, twisting his head so he could see his brother with his right eye. His vision was all blurry and doubled and his mind buzzed with confusion as he struggled to sort out what was happening. He hurt. He hurt so badly, but the drugs that had been given to him made the pain more bearable. When the drugs wore off—he almost shuddered, knowing how much it was going to hurt when they did wear off. He really just wanted to sleep. To sleep and not wake up for several days. But he had to be strong. For Sammy.
"I'm right here," Sam said, resting his hands on Dean's shoulders.
Dean managed a slight nod. He was cold. He was so cold. "Pants. Want my pants," he mumbled.
Sam looked up at the officer. "Please, you gotta help me get his pants on. He-he can't be seen, not like this."
"The ambulance will have blankets," Jelena told Sam. "We don't want to move him. It could injure him worse," he said gently. "They'll only cut the jeans right back off him, anyhow."
"I don't care!" Sam yelled, straightening. His brother wanted his pants on. He understood. He understood at the visceral level why Dean wanted his pants on. He saw Dean cringe back from him and he forced himself to lower his voice so as not to scare his brother. "They aren't going to see what those bastards did to him." Turning from his brother, he spied Dean's pants where they lay on the floor near the blood-smeared table. He went over to them and snatched them up, quickly returning to his brother's side. "You've got to help me," Sam told Dean. "I've got your pants. I'm going to get them on you, okay?"
Dean gave a bare nod. "Pants. Want." God, he hurt. God was he cold. He told himself not to shiver. Shivering would only make everything hurt worse.
Sam's damned determined, Jelena thought as he moved to intercede. "Son, we don't want to move him. Let's just get some blankets on him."
Turning furious, steely eyes on the man, Sam ground out. "My brother wants his pants on. I'm going to give him that. Got it?" he snarled.
Jelena almost took a step back, the look in the younger boy's eyes frightening. A kid shouldn't have that sort of murder in his eyes. Not in a just world. In a just world, Dean wouldn't have been beaten within an inch of his life, either. Sometimes Jelena hated his job, hated seeing the things that people would do to one another, what kids would do to one another. Here in front of him was a prime example of the cruelty of the human race: the obvious torture this teen had suffered at the hands of other kids. Kids, for Chrissakes.
Sammy knelt in front of his brother, pants in hand. Jelena swore under his breath. The kid wasn't going to stop unless Jelena forcibly stopped him, and it looked like the kid would fight him tooth and nail. To make matters worse, the badly injured teen was swaying in the chair without the ropes to support him.
Ever so gently Sam began working the pants onto Dean's legs. Checking Dean's leg that had been hit with the pipe, Sam could see the hint of swelling in it but it didn't seem to be broken. Sam felt it in his gut that it was fractured none-the-less. Dean's pants were loose enough that he thought he could get the pants over the thigh. If it was broken and continued to swell, the pants would offer some stabilization.
"Sam, stop," Jelena said. "Your brother's about to fall out of the chair. You help him stay upright and I'll drag that mattress over here. We can lay him down on the mattress, get his pants on him, get his feet up, and cover him with blankets until the ambulance arrives, okay?"
The officer's sensible words cut through the fury that all but made Sam's hands shake. He could get Dean's pants on him without help, but it would be hard and he'd probably hurt Dean and himself worse in the process. Pausing, he looked up at Jelena and after a moment, relented. He set the pants aside and stood, placing his hands back on Dean's shoulders to steady his brother. "I'll get your pants on you in just a minute. We're going to get you laid down on a mattress. It won't be as hard to get your pants on you then."
"Dad?" Dean slurred.
"No, Dad's not here," Sam said. "It's Sammy."
"We. Y'said 'we'." Dean mumbled.
"A friend. A friend is with me. Don't worry, Dad'll be here soon," Sam said. Yeah. Sure he will.
Dad would be here soon. Dean let out a soft sigh. His family would take care of him. His Dad would have the morphine ready for when these drugs wore off. He'd be okay. He'd be warm. He'd be safe. Dad and Sam would make everything okay.
Sam slid his fingers over Dean's carotid. His pulse was a little fast and a little weaker than it probably should be, and Sam was stunned his brother didn't have any apparent signs of shock. Dean wasn't sweating—of course, it was cold in the warehouse, even with the portable heaters. He was confused, but that was a result of the drugs, at the very least. Maybe some of the drugs given him were keeping Dean out of shock? He recalled then that Juarez had made sure Dean got water to drink. Maybe that had helped?
Evaluating Dean's injuries, Sam knew it was going to be hard to move Dean without causing him a lot of pain, but they needed to get him on the ground and get his feet raised to help reduce the effects of shock. Dean might not have obvious signs of shock, but Sammy feared at some point Dean's body was going to start to shut down.
"You need to move the syringes," Sam told Jelena when Jelena came back with the mattress.
Jelena picked up the syringes, set them aside, then got the mattress beside Dean. When Sam started to move his hands to Dean's waist Jelena laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerked away violently and stumbled back.
"Easy Sam," Jelena said. Sam winced and his arm went protectively to his ribs. Good God, the kid's been beat up worse than I thought. He's got bruised or broken ribs, Jelena thought. "Let me lift your brother. You stabilize his neck."
"He's been moving it okay," Sam replied, his voice a pained whispered. He fought to get his small gasps back to normal breathing. At least the extra kick of adrenalin was helping him to control the pain.
"Better safe than sorry, Sam. Do you know how to stabilize someone's neck?"
"Yeah," Sam said, forcing himself to straighten. The bandages around his ribs needed tightening; his hasty wrap job from earlier had loosened after everything he'd been through. He'd deal with them after he got Dean taken care of. Moving behind Dean, Sam carefully placed his hands on either side of Dean's head and neck. "Dean, we're going to move you. We're going to get you on a mattress so we can get your pants on you and get some blankets put over you."
He felt Dean tremble underneath his touch. "Brother? It's Sammy. You still with me?"
After a moment Dean whispered. "Yeah. Mov'ng. Hurt. Do it."
Jelena carefully ran his fingers gently over Dean's ribs, making sure if he was lifting the teen, that he didn't inadvertently injure him more. He found two ribs he was fairly certain were broken and placed his arm higher on Dean's back then slid his arms under Dean's knees He readied himself and looked over at Sam.
"You ready? We're going to move you now," Sam said.
Dean mumbled a response that Sam took to mean a yes.
"Ready?" Jelena asked. After Sam's nod, Jelena said, "On three. One, two, three."
As Jelena lifted, Dean screamed in pain. Jelena ground his teeth and moved the teen onto the mattress. He looked at Sam and saw the tears streaking the boy's pale face. He gave Sam a small smile. "The medics will be able to get him onto a back board easier from here. Somebody would have had to move him, Sam."
Sam nodded and wiped at his tears.
The teen's breathing was sounding labored so Jelena grabbed the chair beside the mattress and flipped it over so the seat faced the floor. He gently slid it under the mattress to elevate the teen's head and chest, to ease his breathing. Sam retrieved two cushions from one of the rotting sofas and slid them under his brother's feet.
"Dispatch, C-41," Jelena said into his radio mike as he stood up. He waved to Sam to fetch some blankets.
"C-41, Dispatch."
"E.T.A. for the ambulance?" Jelena knew it had been a busy night for EMS and hoped the ambulance would be there soon.
"At least fifteen to twenty minutes, C-41. Ambulance is coming from Standers as mutual aid. Do we need to dispatch UCAN?"
"Negative, no place for the chopper to land," Jelena said. With the police cars in the parking lot and the tall buildings around it, the air ambulance couldn't land there. Closest place would be the Nester Street Methodist Church. By the time they landed, got the backboard to the warehouse and the kid to the chopper, the regular ambulance would be here. "Kid's bad. Tell them to step on it."
"Clear, C-41."
Jelena saw the younger brother working the pants onto the teen's legs instead of getting the blankets. Damn that kid was stubborn. With a sigh, Jelena helped him.
"Thank you," Sam whispered, tears sliding down his face. "Please go catch them. I'll stay with him." Sam rose from his brother's side and grabbed some blankets. He flicked them out and let them settle gently on top of Dean.
"Do you know which ones did this to your brother?" the officer asked as he moved a portable heater closer to the injured teen. "And who beat you?"
"All of them," Sam said, wiping at his running nose with his sleeve. He absently noticed the smear had streaks of crimson. "And Juarez boasted that he killed her." Sam pointed to Isabelle. Turning his gaze upward to the police officer, he begged, "Please! You have to catch them. You can't let them get away. Not after what they did!"
Shaking his head, Jelena said, "No, I need to stay here with you and your brother and keep an eye on Dean for the ambulance." The words were hardly out of his mouth when he heard distant gunfire followed by "officer down" on his radio. He listened to the chatter. Someone was sniping and had nailed Benton, but he couldn't tell how bad Benton was hit.
"Go!" Sam insisted.
Where was the kid going to go? Jelena thought. Yeah, but what if one of the gang members swings back around to finish the job on the teen? On both of the boys, for that matter.
Jelena shook his head. "I can't leave you. They might come back."
"We'll be fine," Sam insisted. "I'll protect him."
Giving the young boy a wan smile, he said, "It's my job to protect you and your brother."
Sam stared hard at the cop. "Your job is to catch the bad guys. Your job is to protect your partner. They won't come back so long as you guys are chasing them. And if they do," Sam's eyes flicked meaningfully to the table and the gun laying on it, "I'll protect my brother."
The chatter on the radio kicked up in urgency. Jelena knew more officers were on their way to the warehouse. "Officer down" brought in everyone, but his duty was to stay by the boys.
Sam came to his side. "We'll. Be. Fine," he said. "Please. Go. I'll turn off the lights. They won't see us."
Crap. Rock and a hard place, Jelena thought. He looked down at Sam. He was torn between duty to the boys and duty to his comrades. After a long hesitation he finally gave in. "All right, but let's get you two moved into the dark, over there, by that piece of machinery."
Jelena gently pulled the chair out from beneath the mattress and handed it to Sam, then dragged the mattress over into the shadows. Dean groaned at the jostling. Sam slid the chair back in place under the mattress once Jelena gave him the signal.
Turning to Sam, Jelena's voice was firm. "You stay quiet and out of sight." He handed Sam a whistle. "You get company, you give this a blow. We should be able to hear it."
"I'll get my cell phone, too. It's on the table over there. I can call 911 if they come back."
"Sam, I should stay…" Jelena began.
"No! They already have an advantage. Their turf and one of you injured. You have to nail them. You have to!"
"If—if you do pick up that gun, don't get stupid. There are a lot of friendlies in here."
"Yes, sir. I know. My dad's taken me hunting. I'll be careful."
Jelena took a deep breath. If something happened to these kids, he'd never forgive himself. He almost couldn't do it, but the sound of more gunfire gave his pulse a sudden jolt. His partner was out there. He took off at a run, talking into the radio as he went.
As soon as the officer was gone, Sam lifted his shirt and re-wrapped his ribs, tightening the bandages. When he'd jerked away from the officer, he thought his knees were going to flat give out on him. Tightening the bandages helped both ease the pain and let him breathe much easier. After giving a glance back at his brother, Sam went to the table where their stuff lay, stopping to pick up the bag the guy from the mini-mart had given him. He quickly slipped the gun holster on and placed the 9-mm in it. He put his coat on, stuffed what was left of his small arsenal, his cell phone, Dean's wallet, and the wadded up thirty dollars in his pockets. Gathering the syringes, he carefully wrapped them in one of the bandanas and placed the bundle in the bag with the water and M&Ms. The hospital would need to know what the gang had given Dean. He scooped up the rest of Dean's clothes and hurried back to his brother.
Pulling out the bottle of water, planning to offer some to his brother, Sam suddenly hesitated. There had been vomit by Dean's chair, vomit that was a watery mix of blood and white and green fluids. Offering water to Dean could set Dean up for aspirating vomit into his lungs if he threw up again, but the water was the only way Sam had to get fluids into his brother, the only way he might be able to delay the onset of shock. Sam would just have to watch Dean carefully and if it looked like Dean was going to throw up, he'd just make certain his brother was positioned so he didn't suck any of it into his lungs. "I brought you water. You want some water?"
Dean managed a nod.
Sam carefully poured a bit of water into Dean's burned mouth.
After several small swallows, Dean whispered, "When going home?"
"We're going to the hospital. You're injured. Bad," Sam said, even knowing that social services would be on them in a heartbeat. As soon as John didn't show, Sam would probably be put into foster care and who knew if he'd be able to see his brother.
"Dad?"
"He's not here yet."
"Home," Dean insisted.
"Dammit," Sam swore. "No! You need to go—"
"Home," Dean said again. "Please Sammy," he begged. "Take me home."
"No," Sam said.
"Please. Please take me home."
Sam swallowed. His voice turned pain-filled. "It'll hurt you to try to move you. It could make things worse."
Dean reached up to Sam's shirt and gripped it loosely. "I don't care. Home."
Sam stared into the distant shadows where the officer had disappeared. He'd just wanted them to catch those bastards. He wanted all of them caught. Now, what was he supposed to do? Dean needed a hospital. He had a broken arm and hand, maybe a broken leg, and probably a handful of other bones were broken. If the officer were still with them, there would be no question that he couldn't take Dean home. He had to convince his brother a hospital was the best place for him.
"They gave you drugs. You need to go to the hospital to make sure, you know, that you don't O.D."
Dean managed a small nod. "Said it wouldn't…kill me. I'll be…fine. Pain…not so bad. Get me home now…before wears off."
"No," Sam said firmly.
"Please," Dean pleaded. "Please Sammy. Please." Dean began to sob softly. "Please take me home." Dean's thoughts were muddied by the pain and drugs but he wanted to be someplace known, some place he felt safe. He wanted Sam and his father with him. He wanted "home."
Sam felt his resolve weaken. He knew Dean needed a hospital. He knew he did, but seeing his brother laying there, sobbing, begging Sam to get him home…. He closed his eyes. Every sob cut through him like a knife in his gut. He shouldn't. He shouldn't. God, he shouldn't.
"It'll be okay, Dean," Sam said as he reached to take his brother's hand, "you'll see. It will."
Dean's breath caught and he jerked away, sobbing harder. "No. No. No. Please!" he cried.
Sam felt his own tears try to start again. He knew—knew—Dean needed a hospital, but his brother wanted to go home—home to die? A little voice in Sam's head wondered.
NO! Hospital or not, Dean was going to be fine. He was going to be fine! Caleb would have seen it if Dean was going to die, right? He'd be here. That meant Dean was going to be fine.
Dean's continued mutterings of "Home. I wanna go home. Please. Sammy!"
"Okay," Sam relented. He just couldn't deny his brother. Not this time. He could get Dean home, get him cleaned up and see just how bad he was, and then call 911 if he had to. Needing to get other things in motion in case Dean did have to go to the hospital, he hit speed dial 2 on his cell phone. Please, Dad, pick up. Please pick up. The call went straight to voice mail. He'd hoped, just this once, that his father would be there for them. It wasn't fair, he knew his dad had been there for them plenty of times, but plenty of times he hadn't either. And this was one time Sammy didn't think he'd ever forgive his father for not being there.
"Dad, call as soon as you can. Dean's hurt bad. The gang got a hold of him. They had him all day. You've got to come home. Please, Dad. You've got to come home." Sam's took a deep breath. He wasn't going to blubber so his father could hear him, but it was getting harder and harder not to. He made himself turn away from the bloody heap that was his brother. "I'm going to call Pastor Jim. Please, Dad. Call me."
Damn you, Dad! We need you! Sam's hands shook as he ended the call and then speed-dialed Jim's number.
"Hello?" The man's voice was kind and welcoming
"Pastor Jim, it's Sammy. Sammy Winchester," Sam said. Hearing the stalwart familiar voice in the midst of all the horrors almost made Sam lose it. He wanted to bawl like a two year old and ask Pastor Jim to make everything okay again.
"Samuel, what's wrong?" Jim queried, hearing the quaver in the young boy's voice.
"Dean's really hurt, Pastor Jim. Dad's away. He's not answering his phone. Dean doesn't want to go to the hospital. Please, Pastor Jim. Please. You've got to come." Sam heard the panic in his own voice and tried hard to keep it under control. He couldn't fall apart. Not now.
"What happened?" Jim asked, his voice calm. Sam heard a door shut and the rattle of keys.
"There's been a gang after Dean. They got a hold of him and beat him up. They beat him up real bad," Sam said. No, I'm not going to start crying!
"I have the address your father left with me. You're at the Starliner Motel still?"
"Yes," Sam said quietly. At least he would be soon, he thought grimly.
"I'm on my way, Samuel. It'll take me a few hours to get there. Will Dean be okay that long?"
"I think so. Yeah. Yeah, he will." Dean had to be okay. He had to be.
Pastor Jim breathed a soft sigh of relief as he climbed into his truck. "You keep trying your dad. If Dean gets any worse, you call 911 and then call me back, you hear me?"
"Yes sir," Sam replied.
"I'll see you soon, Samuel. Have faith."
Sam ended the call and turned back to face his brother.
He should go to the hospital, Sam told himself again, but when he heard Dean still sobbing and begging Sam to take him home, the last of Sam's will caved. Of course, if the ambulance just happened to make it there before he could get Dean moved, well, that was more than a little okay, too.
He gathered Dean's thermal shirt, t-shirt and the two flannel shirts, socks and shoes. He quickly cut the t-shirts and thermal shirt up the side seams, along the sleeve, and then cut a notch in the neck to make it bigger. He pulled each over Deans head in turn. It wasn't ideal, but it would offer Dean some protection against the cold. The flannels he wrapped around Dean's shoulders and buttoned the top buttons. and then ripped more of the sheet into strips.
"I'm going to wrap your ribs. You need to sit up, Dean."
Dean inhaled sharply and tried to worm himself away from Sam. Sam's brow furrowed. Why did Dean keep jerking back from him?
"His name. Oh God," Sam whispered remembering how the gang said Dean's name every time before they hurt him. They'd started doing it to Sam, too. Brother. He'd stick with calling Dean "brother."
"Brother? It's Sammy. I'm going to wrap your ribs. Think you can sit up a little?"
"Sammy? You're okay?" Dean slurred.
"I'm fine. I've got bandages to wrap your ribs. I'm going to start, okay? We'll sit you up just a little bit so I can get the bandages on and get your shirts pulled down."
With Dean's cooperation, he tightly wrapped Dean's ribs with strips from the sheet, trying hard to ignore the gasps and sobs coming from his brother as he worked on him. He helped Dean into his leather coat and fastened the coat part way closed, then wrapped the thickest of the blankets around his brother, then got his socks a boots on him. Sam teeter-tottered between trying to hurry up to get Dean out of the warehouse before the ambulance arrived or the cops came back, and praying for either of the same to show up and stop him. He finished before either the police or ambulance showed. Dammit.
Sam looked at the bag of supplies he'd gotten from the minimart. He ripped open the M&Ms and threw a handful in his mouth. He knew he'd better not give Dean any, but he needed the energy. He popped another handful of the candies into his mouth and washed them down with the water. Dumping the rest of the water out, he pulled out the bandana full of needles and transferred them into the empty bottle. He didn't want to end up stabbing himself with any of them. After screwing the bottle's lid back on, he put it in his coat pocket along with the rest of the M&Ms. He felt a little better already, the sugar and protein kicking in. Sam slipped his blood-smeared watch and the other bottle of water into another coat pocket.
A part of him was glad for Dean's demand. Their father would probably be out of town a few more days yet, and getting back to the motel would give Pastor Jim a chance to get closer to town in case they needed him to help cover for their father's absence with the authorities. But, maybe Dean would be fine recuperating on his own. He's hurt awfully bad, Sam thought.
It didn't matter. Dean wanted to go home.
Taking hold of Dean's unbroken arm, Sam started to pull Dean into a fireman's carry, but his rib's protest and his brother's whimpers of pain ruled that possibility out. "Dean," Sam began and winced as Dean flinched away from him. "Brother," he corrected himself, "Can you stand?"
"Idunnoknow," Dean mumbled.
"Does you leg hurt?"
"Everythin' hurts."
"Try to move your right leg," Sam asked him.
Dean tried and met with a small measure of success.
Maybe it's not broken! Sam thought elatedly. It's not hardly swollen. Maybe it's okay. Just badly bruised. He'll limp, but he can walk.
"Brother, you're going to have to help me here, or you're going to end up going to the hospital. You hear me? I'm going to pull you to your feet. Lean on me, okay?"
Sam grabbed hold of Dean's unbroken arm. "Ready?"
"Yeah," Dean whispered.
Sam pulled hard, biting back his own cry as he pulled his brother to his feet. He wrapped his arm around Dean's waist and helped steady him. Dean groaned.
"We can wait for the ambulance if it hurts too much," Sam said, hoping Dean might change his mind.
"No. Home," Dean insisted, he words hardly even a whisper.
"Okay, big brother. Okay. Home," Sam reluctantly conceded. "C'mon, I saw a door this way." He wished he could get Dean out to that green Cadillac, but the cop cars were there and the ambulance would surely come in that way as well. He could go that way and hope…no, he'd all but promised Dean so he helped Dean hobble toward the door.
He could hear the police still hunting down some of the gang in the distance, but he hadn't heard the ambulance yet.
"You should have stayed with the cops," a Dementor sneered as he stepped out of the shadows.