Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Not Without My Brother

Chapter 13

Dean shivered in the cold winter air and followed Cletus through the twilight to the clapboard home that housed the vamps they were hunting. A week of research was behind them, and Dean felt better about going into the hunt with Cletus this time even though Bobby had protested loudly when told of his plans. Both Dean and Cletus were prepared with dead man's blood stored safely in their pockets. Dean held a machete in one hand and his gun in the other as did Cletus who walked in front of him.

It had been a week of pure torture for Dean. He had used every ounce of willpower he had to keep from returning to the Carters' home for Sammy. He had lost count of the times he had reminded himself that Sammy was safe with Henry and Bonnie; he would not be around the members of the hunting community. It was for the best.

Cletus stopped on the dusty path, his body still as he strained his ears to hear anything out of the ordinary. Dean froze behind him, his eyes and ears alert for a sign that the vamps were on to their approach. When nothing happened after several seconds, Dean whispered, "What is it, Cletus?"

The older hunter turned and glared at Dean. "What, do you want to get us killed? Shut up, Winchester, and let me do this."

Dean ground his teeth together and suppressed a heated reply. There would be time for that later after the vamps were dead. He allowed his gaze to scan the old house once again. It had seen better days on the Dakota prairie, probably once painted white with cheery shutters and a welcoming porch. Now the boards were weathered gray, the shutters had long since fallen off, and the porch sagged in the middle. It looked tired, and Dean wondered if perhaps if the next strong wind storm that blew across the flat landscape would take the house with it.

Dean's eyes widened as Cletus turned to stare at him, machete in hand. "What are you doing?" he asked in surprise as Cletus brandished his machete in front of him. The light of the full moon glinted off of the shiny metal blade.

"Something that needs to be done," the other hunter leered.

Dean's stomach burned with adrenaline and his eyes narrowed as he anticipated Cletus' next move. He thought of the cell phone in his pocket and longed to call Bobby. He was glad he'd told his surrogate uncle where he was going on this hunt, although now he wondered if there even was a hunt to begin with. At least someone would be looking for him although they would probably be too late if the gleam in Cletus' eyes was any indication of what was going to happen.

Deciding not to wait for Cletus to make his move, Dean threw himself forward and caught the other hunter by surprise. Both men plowed into the hard, dusty ground, weapons scattering. Dean delivered a swift punch to Cletus' jaw before reaching for his gun. Cletus, however, fought dirty. He whipped out a small knife he had sequestered into the waistband of his pants and swiped it across Dean's belly, the younger hunter drawing back and dodging out of the way before Cletus could plunge it into him.

Cletus easily pushed Dean away from him as the Winchester brother's blood spilled out onto the dirt. "You'll bleed out before you can get help," he sneered. "I'll see that your little brother is cared for. Someone who has visions deserves to be in the right hands."

"Leave Sammy alone," Dean panted. "I'll come after you and make you pay if you hurt him." His vision was becoming fuzzy around the edges and he fought the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Hah, you'll be dead, Winchester. You can't help your brother. I'll be the one raisin' that kid now."

Dean groaned and collapsed in the edge of the field crushing the autumn's leftover stubble beneath him. He could feel the warm blood seeping out from between his fingers as he held them over his wounded stomach. "Sammy," he whispered, "I'm so sorry." Cletus' laughter as he ran off into the night echoed in Dean's ears as he succumbed to the darkness.

Bobby paced restlessly around his small kitchen as he waited for the coffee to brew. He didn't like the fact that Sammy was no longer with Dean. He really didn't like the fact that Dean was hunting with Cletus once again. Heaving a sigh, he stared out of his window at the overcast wintery afternoon. Dean was a grown man. Bobby knew he should let him make his own choices, his own mistakes. Somehow, though, he just couldn't. He knew that Dean was going to get himself into trouble with Cletus. Making a sudden decision, Bobby moved the coffee pot off of the burner and turned off the stove. Hurrying upstairs, he threw an extra set of clothing into his duffle before he scurried down the stairs and out of the backdoor to his truck. If he hurried, he could catch Dean and Cletus before they began hunting the vamps.

By the time he located the motel in De Smet, he was too late.

"Just missed 'em," the kindly proprietor told him. "They loaded up their vehicles and tore out of here not long ago. We're a small town here; everyone knows everyone else. They stood out like a sore thumb."

"Do you happen to know where they were headed?" Bobby asked, his stomach churning at the thought of Dean alone with Cletus. Something just wasn't right; he could feel it.

"They've been asking a lot of questions about some property west of town. "There's nothing out there now but an old abandoned house and empty wheat fields. The family no longer lives here, but they rent out the land," the lady explained.

"Can you tell me how to get there?" Bobby asked.

The lady blinked in surprise. "Well, sure. You just follow Fourteen out of town and go down a few miles. The road will take you to the twin lakes. I've got a map in my office. Let me show you."

Bobby followed her inside the small, but clean office and waited impatiently as she showed him the roads on her map she kept behind the registration desk. Dusk was falling as he finally climbed into his truck and headed west out of town on route 14. Something was wrong; he could sense it.

Bobby followed the woman's directions and passed the lakes before he found the plot of land he was looking for. At least, he was hoping he was in the right place. He found the small road that led around the edge of the field and followed it slowly, his truck bumping along through the deep potholes until his teeth were clanking together.

His heart plummeted when he caught sight of the Impala sitting off to the side all alone. There was no sign of Dean or Cletus although tire tracks showed that the other hunter's truck had been here at one time.

Bobby climbed out of his truck and grabbed his flashlight, his gun, and his knife. It was best to be prepared for anything. A vial of dead man's blood was tucked securely into his pocket. "Dean?" he called out. "You still here?"

There was no answer. Thankfully, the night was clear and between his flashlight and the light of the moon Bobby could see the path. He stumbled down the dark trail that led to the ramshackle house in the middle of a field of wheat stubble. He kicked something with the toe of his booted foot and looked down expecting to see a rock. Instead, he found Dean's cell phone lying discarded at the edge of the path where it had skittered after his kick.

"Balls!" the experienced hunter swore, as he bent to retrieve the phone before tucking it into his pocket. "Dean, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?" he murmured into the quiet of the night. Moving farther up the path, Bobby's eyes widened at Dean's prone form nearly hidden from view in the shadows at the edge of the field. "Dean!"

The experienced hunter's stomach lurched at the sight of the blood-stained ground and the blood-soaked clothing that covered Dean's midsection. "Dean," he choked out once again as he dropped to his knees in the dirt beside the Winchester's body. Frantically, he reached out with a trembling hand to feel for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief at the slow, unsteady rhythm that played a staccato beat against his fingertips.

"Hang on, Dean," he panted as he tore off his jacket and pressed it against Dean's wound making the younger hunter cry out in pain. With his free hand, Bobby managed to snag his phone out of his pocket and dialed 9-1-1. Dean was losing too much blood; there was so much of it on the ground. Bobby felt nauseas at the sight.

The next hour went by in a blur. The paramedics arrived and Dean was quickly whisked into the ambulance. The paramedics wore grave expressions, and Bobby knew without it being said that his condition was critical. In fact, he knew that time was of the essence for Dean Winchester. He needed blood, and he needed it now.

Bobby followed the ambulance as it sped toward the nearest city with a hospital. His heart was in his throat. He had always thought of Dean as a nephew of sorts, but over the past few months he had begun to consider him a son. And where was Cletus? Had he abandoned Dean on the hunt or had they split up to search for the vamps? The whole thing about Dean hunting with Cletus left a bad taste in Bobby's mouth.

Once they arrived at the hospital, Bobby filled out the necessary paperwork and then paced the waiting room in agitation, earning aggravated looks from the other people sitting in the plastic chairs that lined the room. He finally found a place along the wall and leaned his head back against the white plaster as he sucked in deep, calming breaths. Dean would be all right; he had to be.

In a nearby town, Sammy sat up in bed with a start, his chest heaving and his head throbbing. "Dean?" he gasped as he glanced around the bedroom that was lit only by the moonlight streaming through the blinds. The dream had been so real. His brother had nearly been gutted with a knife and was bleeding to death on a dirt path in the edge of a field. He had to call Bobby.

Sammy slid out of bed with his heart hammering so loudly in his chest he was sure that Henry and Bonnie would hear it. Carefully, he opened the door and peered up and down the hallway. Bonnie and Henry had their door closed. The four-year-old crept down the hallway and padded down the stairs. Once he reached the kitchen, he stood on tiptoe to grasp the cordless phone. He knew Bobby's phone number by heart; Dean had insisted he learn it.

His tongue protruded from between his lips as he concentrated on pushing the correct numbers and then held the phone to his ear as he listened to it ring.

Bobby started in surprise as his phone rang. He tugged it out of his pocket and frowned when he didn't recognize the number on the caller I.D. "Hello?" he asked with a slight question in his tone.

"Uncle Bobby, it's Sammy. Something has happened to Dean. I saw it." The little boy's voice wavered with fear. "He's bleeding; he got hurt by a big knife."

"Sammy," Bobby breathed into the phone as he longed to be able to gather the little boy close in a tight hug, "I have Dean here with me at the hospital. He's going to be all right, kiddo." Bobby hoped he spoke the truth to the frightened child.

"Can I talk to him?" Sammy asked hopefully, his little voice desperate.

"Uh, he's sleeping right now," Bobby lied, hating himself as the words passed through his lips.

"Oh," Sammy sighed sadly.

"Sammy, what are you doing?" Bobby heard a male voice filter across the line.

"Gotta go, Uncle Bobby," Sammy said quickly and there was a click as he hung up the phone.

"Sammy, who were you talking to?" Henry asked his new son calmly as he lifted the little boy up and settled him on the counter.

Sammy frowned and shrugged as he focused on a stain that decorated the front of the white t-shirt Henry wore.

Henry sighed. "You can't get up in the middle of the night and use the phone, buddy. You need to ask me or Mom if you want to call someone, okay?"

Sammy looked up then, defiance written all over his face. "She's not my mom!" he shouted and then jumped from the counter as Henry tried to keep him from falling and hurting himself. Pushing past the man's hand, Sammy thundered up the stairs and to his room. He shut the door behind him and then dove under the sheets of his bed. Sobs shook his thin shoulders as he buried his face in the pillow. It had been so good to hear Uncle Bobby's voice and to be able to know that his brother was all right.

Sammy longed more than anything to hear Dean's voice and feel his brother's arms hold him tight. He didn't want to call Bonnie Mom or Henry Dad. He just wanted Dean and Uncle Bobby back. He didn't need a mom and dad as long as he had Dean and Uncle Bobby.

The door to his room opened and Sammy gulped back a sob. He scrunched his eyes closed and pretended to be asleep.

"Sammy, honey, are you all right?" Bonnie asked softly as he reached over to brush the boy's hair back from his face.

He sniffled. "I'm tired."

"Okay, sweetie, I'll let you sleep, and I'll see you in the morning. Mommy is right across the hall in case you need me."

"You're not my mom!" Sammy protested once again as he tugged the quilt over his head to blot out the world around him. He heard Bonnie heave a heavy sigh before she left his room and shut the door behind her.

In the hospital waiting room, Bobby glanced at his watch as he shifted uneasily in one of the room's uncomfortable chairs. It had been five hours since Dean had been rushed into a trauma bay.

"Family of Dean Walton?"

Bobby lurched to his feet as his eyes studied the inscrutable face of the young doctor standing before him. "I'm his uncle," he blurted. "Will Dean be all right?"

"Come right this way, and we'll talk," the doctor explained as he led Bobby to a small family meeting room off of the waiting room. He gestured to one of the chairs and Bobby took a seat as he anxiously ran his sweaty palms along his worn jeans.

"How's Dean?" he asked again.

The doctor gave him a small smile. "My name is Doctor Hewitt; I took on Dean's case when he arrived at the hospital. Your nephew suffered severe blood loss. If he had arrived any later we would not have been able to save him."

Bobby blanched at the doctor's words. "But he'll be all right?" he asked anxiously.

"The knife tore through muscle, so he will be sore for quite a while. It was pure luck that no major organs were struck. Dean will be weak due to blood loss and in a lot of pain as his muscles heal, but I wouldn't expect any long term effects from his injury."

Bobby blew out the breath he had been holding. "Thank you, Doctor Hewitt."

"The police will be coming in to speak with you and to Dean when he wakes up. We are all very concerned about how this injury happened."

Bobby sighed and his stomach burned nervously. "Dean called me and said he was going hunting with a friend out in De Smet. I was worried about him and couldn't get in touch with him. I found out where he was hunting and went out there and found him like this." Bobby shook his head. "I was so afraid he was going to be dead when you came out of that door to speak to me."

"It was very close," the doctor explained gravely. "Things with Dean could have gone either way. We are going to be keeping a close eye on him so infection doesn't set in. He is all stitched up and we are waiting for a room to become available so we can get him settled. A nurse will let you know when you can see him."

"Thank you, Doctor." Bobby shook the man's hand and returned to the waiting room. He purchased a soda from the machine and sank down into a chair with a sigh of relief. Dean would live. He hadn't lied to Sammy after all.

The next few days passed slowly for Sammy. He constantly worried about his brother and begged Bonnie and Henry to let him call Bobby to check on Dean, but they refused. The cordless phones were now taken into the master bedroom at night and put away from little hands.

A babysitter arrived on Friday night so that Bonnie and Henry could attend Henry's company dinner. Sammy surveyed the teenager nervously. The fifteen year old, Heather, was dressed in jeans and a form-fitting black shirt. Her long brown hair hung in silky waves over her shoulders. She smiled kindly to him and was nice to Henry and Bonnie, but once the Carters left things changed.

"Go upstairs to your room," she ordered Sammy. "My boyfriend is coming over."

There was a knock on the door and she opened it to admit a tall, well-muscled guy who walked with a purposeful stride. He stared hard at the four-year-old standing next to his girlfriend.

Sammy planted his hands on his hips and glared at Heather stubbornly. "Bonnie and Henry said you're supposed to watch me."

"Well, they're gone and I'm in charge, Squirt." She grabbed him by the arm and hauled him up the stairs before shoving him into his room.

"Hey!" Sammy protested.

"Stay there or I'll tell Henry and Bonnie I caught you on the phone. They said I'm not supposed to let you use it." The teen raised her eyebrows. "I'll also tell my boyfriend to beat you up. You saw his muscles," she threatened.

Sammy's stomach quivered nervously. Bonnie and Henry had been nice to him, so he wasn't scared of them if they found out he used the phone. This girl's boyfriend, on the other hand, might really beat him up. With a resigned sigh, Sammy plopped on the rug in the middle of his room and absently tugged out the carwash he'd received for Christmas. He stretched out beside it on the rug and wiped his face as tears welled in his eyes. He missed Dean and Uncle Bobby. They'd never leave him with a mean babysitter and her scary boyfriend.

Sammy sighed listlessly as he heard talking and laughing in the hallway. The door to the guest bedroom down the hall shut with a bang, making him jump. There was more laughing and then muffled moans and other sounds. His stomach clenched nervously and he wondered if he would be able to sneak to the phone and call Uncle Bobby.

Before he could make a decision, however, the door to his bedroom opened. Sammy let out a startled cry when he looked up to see Cletus Harvey standing there with a sneer on his face.

Sammy scrambled to his feet, but Cletus snatched his arm.

"Hey, Sammy. Dean told me all about your visions. Thought you might come in handy with my hunts." He gave the small boy a rough shake.

"Ow!" Sammy wailed just as Cletus clapped his hand over the boy's lips. The four-year-old squirmed in Cletus' grasp and fought the large hand that covered his mouth.

"Stop fighting and come with me quietly or I'll hurt your brother and he'll never leave that hospital. It will be all your fault," Cletus hissed in Sammy's ear, his foul breath making the inside of the boy's nose shrivel.

"Dean," Sammy moaned beneath Cletus' hand.

"Shut up, I said!" Cletus said as he gave the boy another shake.

Sammy whimpered and was quiet. He trembled violently as he felt himself held against Cletus' chest. The hunter slipped quietly down the hall and the little boy could hear his babysitter giggling in the spare bedroom behind the closed door. He longed to bite Cletus' beefy hand and scream, but he knew that Cletus would keep his word and hurt Dean. Sammy would never let that happen.

The air outside was cold and quickly seeped through the long sleeve t-shirt Sammy wore. He shivered, but Cletus didn't seem to notice as he dumped him on the seat of his truck and shoved him over to the passenger side before climbing in and starting the engine.

Sammy reached for the door handle on the passenger door, but Cletus caught him roughly by the arm. "No you don't, you little runt," he snarled, jerking Sammy across the seat before backhanding the boy's face.

The four-year-old cried out and curled into a ball on the seat as tears streamed down his face. His cheek throbbed and he touched it gingerly, winching when it ached. He had to be good; he had to make sure Dean was safe. Dean was all that mattered. Sammy stayed in his little ball, shivering as he grew colder in the South Dakota winter air.

To Be Continued…