Retrieval

"Sammy, please."

"Oh, isn't that sweet? Begging already. Little brother's gonna rip you up inside. How long did it take you to be able to sit right last time?"

"No…" It came out sounding suspiciously like a sob and I flinched as much from the sound of it as at the threat. Sam's size had always annoyed me… but it had never actually scared me before. He'd always been that pudgy little toddler in my head no matter how big he got. Right now, though, I couldn't ignore the sheer terror that froze my blood and tied my stomach into knots.

"Shhh… It's okay," Sammy soothed, rubbing the skin behind my ear with the thumb of the hand holding my head flat against the bar. It was too familiar, being bent over and held down like this. My body kept remembering things that I'd spent a year trying to make it forget. "You're my little bitch anyway. Just making it official, bro. You do everything else you can to make me happy. Why not spread those legs for me too? Give me what everybody else seems to want so bad."

"You gotta fight it Sammy… please don't… don't let it do this… please."

"Oh, come on Dean. Show me what the fuss is all about. We both know what a whore you are."

I tried to push Sam's weight off me, trying to remind myself that it was the demon, not Sam… Sam would never say these things to me. At least not most of them. I ignored the traitorous voice in my head as I tried to find some sort of advantage, some way to fight back. I felt my head lifted up only to be slammed down hard against the bar. And damn, that fucking hurt! My vision grayed out and I couldn't move for a few moments as Sammy pressed against my back and the son of a bitch really was proportional. I shuddered at the thought of him actually inside me, the sense memory of what it felt like to have someone force himself in me making me gag and the muscles in my body tense. I closed my eyes and chanted Not Sammy, Not Sammy over and over again in my head.

"You're gonna feel so good, baby," Sammy – Not Sammy – was whispering in my ear. "I'm gonna fuck you open. But don't worry, I'm sure you'll bleed enough to make things nice and slick eventually. If you beg, though," he said, his voice almost gentle as his huge hand slid from the back of my head to wrapped around my throat, pulling me tight against his chest, restricting my breathing, "I might use a little spit to ease the way. Would you like that bitch? It'll still hurt, but then I always did like to hurt you, didn't I? And you always let me."

I felt my belt and my jeans being undone and pulled own. It was a struggle to pull in breath with the hand around my throat and my eyes were tearing up. The rough fabric of Sam's jeans rubbed against my naked ass and I shivered again. God, this was real. This was actually going to happen… I retreated into my head as much as I could, trying to hide from what my own brother was going to do to me. Not Sammy, I screamed in my head.

"Oh, come on, you worthless whore. The begging can't be over so soon. You're so pretty when you beg. Not as pretty as you'll be on your knees after I fuck you. Know what you'll be doing on your knees, bitch? I'm gonna put that pretty mouth of yours to good use. With lips like those, I can't believe nobody's ever done that before. Come on. You can tell me, Dean. How many men have you been on your knees for?"

"Sam…"

I heard boots on the floor, felt Sam's weight – Not Sam – shift. "Hey, look Dean. Daddy's here. Think he wants to watch?"

I sat up with a start. It took me a minute to realize what I had to thank for waking me out of that nightmare. There was no telling how it would have ended this time around – the way it really happened, or some other variation like the demon killing Dad then raping me, or Dad joining in, or Dad killing Sammy. Yeah, good times. Then I realized that the beads were vibrating. I wasted a precious second staring at the stupid girly bracelet on my wrist – 'cause, seriously, beads? – before I comprehended that the fucking beads were vibrating. I heard Dad and Bobby shouting Sam's name out in the yard. I was out of bed and down the stairs so fast that I had no conscious memory of moving. I blinked and found myself downstairs grabbing a shotgun on my way out the front door.

My heart was pounding painfully in my chest and my palms were sweaty. Maybe this wasn't really happening, maybe I was still asleep. But I knew that wasn't true. I never had anxiety dreams. That was all Sammy's territory. I only dreamed about the shit that actually happened. I heard my father cursing a blue streak and that just can't be good. I followed the sound of his voice through the maze of dead cars in Bobby's yard until I could see his broad back. He was scanning the yard, his own shotgun in hand. Bobby's voice had gotten further away and that made sense. They'd split up looking for Sam.

"Dad!" He whirled around to face me.

"Sammy went for a-" Dad stopped and looked down at his wrist. The beads had stopped vibrating. And that… can't be good. "Shit."

I stared at him for half a second. "Shit." I echoed. And really, that pretty much said it all. Because who ever had been here wouldn't just leave without whatever they came here for. Sam.

Dad, Bobby and I spent twenty of the worst minutes of my life combing the yard before Dad found any trace of what happened to Sam.

Dad stood over the scuff marks, his jaw working. "They took him." That much was obvious. Dad had taught me how to track and I was good enough to see what had happened myself even though he was better. I could feel anger coming off him in waves. We followed him as he followed the tracks to the fence, where it was cut. They continued to the tire tracks. It was a van. Duel suspension, all terrain tires – the expensive kind. "They fucking took my kid."

While finding Sam gone was better than finding Sam dead by a margin that wasn't even fucking imaginable, the fact that someone had just come here and taken him? Right under our noses? And not something supernatural, but humans… hunters… That just pissed me right the hell off and I could tell it was doing the same thing for my father. We were the fucking good guys. Since when did hunters start hunting each other? When did it become okay to fuck with Dad, or Bobby? They both had reputations in the hunting community and they were given a wide berth. I wasn't on their level, but I knew I had a rep too. If people in the community knew one thing about me, it was that you don't mess with my baby brother. 'Cause that shit can seriously get you killed. Crossing all three of us? This Walker motherfucker was definitely suicidal and I don't think I'll mind helping him out with that particular problem. We followed the tire tracks to the closest paved road. They went south and that was all we could tell.

It occurred to me as I listened to Dad talk to some guy named Ash just how right Sam was when he called us a family of freaks. Any normal family would have tried something like this first if the police were somehow out of the question, at the very least would have expected the police to try it first. For us, tracking the GPS in Walker's phone was a last resort. Something we were reduced to when there were no portents to track, when another psychic was blocking Missouri's ability to pick up anything about Sammy's current location and when scrying came up a big fat goose egg. Once we find that kid, I swear I'm going to have him lo-jacked. I wonder if we can find a doctor to put one of those chips some parents put in their kids without him knowing. After everything that's happened, I'm sure Dad wouldn't mind helping me.

Bobby was in his office trying to figure out if there was some other method we could use to track Sam just in case we came up empty on this too. Dad was wearing a trench in the living room floor and I was watching him. I figured one pacer was enough. Although I wanted to punch something far more than I wanted to pace. Someone had kidnapped Sammy right under my nose. If I'd been where I should have been, doing what I was supposed to be doing, this never would have happened. Instead I was upstairs hiding like a fucking pussy and my brother was god knows where with that psycho. I was going to beat the hell out of that motherfucker when we caught up to him. And that's if Sammy's alive. I don't even want to think about what I'll do if he's not 'cause that's just… fuck, that's not even a possibility.

"Hold on," Dad was saying, "I'm puttin' you on speaker." He took the cell phone from his ear and pushed a button before holding the phone out between us. "Okay, go."

"Well, unfortunately the cell phone number you gave me isn't giving off a GPS signal right now. So either it's been turned off or disabled somehow."

"So you tellin' me you got nothin'?" Dad sounded like he wanted to pull the guy through the phone and beat him to death for his failure.

"W-well I wouldn't exactly say I have nothin'." Ash sounded scared as hell, and I can't say I blame him. Even Bobby handled Dad cautiously when he got like this. I would have felt sorry for the poor guy but this was my baby brother we were talking about. I'd help Dad beat him myself if it would get us Sammy back in one piece. "I have the last location he made a call from. It's about forty miles north of Bobby's place and it's kind of in the middle of nowhere, only public road within miles of it is a highway about a mile and a half away. Google maps shows a cabin there and it looks occupied."

"You can see it?" Dad sounded like he was caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. Dad and Sammy were alike that way – huge geeks who loved learning something new, even in the middle of a crisis. I rolled my eyes.

"Sure. Google shows satellite images. Pretty cool, actually."

Dad rolled his eyes the way he did when Sam went off on one of his tangents. Like the kid didn't come by that trait honestly. "How many cars?"

Looks like two pick ups and a van."

"You said it was cabin. Is it isolated?"

"Other then the highway, there's nothin' around for at least twelve miles unless you count the wildlife. Separated from the highway by dense woods, with no nearby exits of the road. According to the city records there's a service road, but I can't see it. I think you have to know exactly where it is."

"We'll find it. Can you send a picture of the map to Dean's phone?"

"Sure thing."

"Good. Call me if you find anything else." Dad hung up the phone and turned to me. "Let's roll."

Not like he had to tell me that twice. I was already bouncing on the balls of my feet, the fact that it was only good sense to wait the only thing keeping me from insisting on going ahead. "Yessir."

Dad hefted his sawed off shotgun in one hand and his weapons duffle in the other as he followed me to the door. All my gear was already in the Impala. "You comin', Bobby?" He called out.

The other man came out of his study carrying his own weapons. "Like I'd just letcha leave me here."

"Good. I got a plan."

I'm glad someone did. Because the only thing I wanted to do was bust in and shot my way to my little brother. If the idiots who took him bought the big one in the process I wouldn't shed any tears.

The only problem with Dad's plan? I had to wait for him to get in position and give me the green light. I was in the driver's seat of his truck with the headlights off. It was just before dawn and Dad was off somewhere in the woods with his sniper rifle. Bobby was beside me, gun at the ready muttering something about damn fool reckless Winchesters. I wanted to say hell yeah, but settled for giving him a half-hearted smirk. The palms of my hands itched as I gripped the steering wheel. Sammy was in there. Okay, Sammy was probably in there, but that was close enough for me right now. It was at least something to go on. My phone was sitting on the bench seat between us, the sound of Dad's muffled rifle going off periodically could be heard through the speaker.

"I got the guards on the perimeter, Dean," Dad hissed into his phone. "You're brother's in a room to the back and the far left. I'll watch your back from here."

"Yessir," I said as I put the truck in drive. Just before I slammed on the gas, I heard Dad curse and another shot over my phone. "Dad?"

"I'm fine. Just get your brother."

Bobby cursed as the truck accelerated and tried to brace himself against the dash. "This might hurt."

Time did that funny thing it always did when I was hunting. It slowed down and speed up at the same time. Things were happening faster than I could process, but I had more than enough time to react. Bobby and I found ourselves in the living room of the cabin with three startled hunters and a psychic. I was out of the truck before they could react, Bobby at my back, and heading for Sam with my guns drawn. Only one of the men in the room tried to stop me. The rest were heading out the front door. He lunged for me, I side stepped, grabbed his arm with my free hand and twisted it behind his back. I swept his legs and pushed forward at the same time. His head it the wall with a satisfying crunch and he fell like a sack of potatoes. I let him go and kept moving.

I heard a gunshot behind me and quickly glanced to see another hunter landing hard on the far side of the room after taking a chest full of buckshot from Bobby's shotgun.

I found Sam exactly where Dad said he was, staring down at a body with half its head missing. Time stopped as I took my brother in and I suddenly wanted to kill every last one of these bastards – slowly. His shirt had been ripped open. His eyes looked like they were swelling shut, and he was a mass of bruises and cuts. "Sammy."

He looked up, his eyes glassy, unfocused and dazed. Concussion. Hell, that might be the least of our worries. That bruising on his abdomen didn't look good and probably meant that he had some internal injuries. I stepped over the body separating us, glad the sonovabitch was dead and sorry that it hadn't been me to do it. Who the hell did this kind of thing to other people? Sometimes I didn't think that humanity needed to be protected from the monsters. Sometimes we were the monsters.

"D'n?"

"Yeah, it's me little brother. Gonna get you outta here."

He dropped his head again like it was too heavy to hold up. "Shouldn't a come… deserve this."

"For god's sake, shut the fuck up Sammy," I said, my throat suddenly tight and my voice hoarse. I ignored the creepy crawly thing my skin was doing as I untied him with one hand, my gun still in the other. "It wasn't you," I said, almost as much to reassure myself as him. "You don't deserve this."

"Hello Dean. Nice to see you again." I looked up to see Walker standing in the doorway, his gun to Bobby's head. Well, that was impressive. I'd never seen anyone sneak up on Bobby before and if I'd been told five minutes ago that someone could, I'd have laughed. Apparently I was wrong. I raised an eyebrow at Bobby and he gave me a little shrug but refused to meet my eye.

"Walker." I froze, Sam's hands were free, but I squeezed his wrists to let him know to keep them where they were as I pressed my gun into his right hand. From Walker's location, I knew that Dad couldn't get a good shot at Walker without hitting Bobby. And even if he did that? Bobby's body would change the trajectory and speed of the bullet and that could be enough of an edge for Walker to shot one or both of us. Walker was fighting his own personal crusade and I don't think he'd mind going out if he got to take someone out with him. Sam might be the only chance we have of all of us getting out of here alive. Once I was sure that Sam had a good hold of the gun and that Walker didn't suspect what I'd done, I stood up slowly, raising my hands. "You can still get out of this alive. Just put the gun down and we'll let you walk away."

"How do I know that for sure?"

"We're not murderers." Well, at least not usually.

"Well, that's not true, is it?" I almost winced at that, almost gave myself away. How did he know what I'd done? He smiled slowly, knowingly. "Sammy racked up quite a body count when he went missing, didn't he? And I'm sure Willis there didn't shoot himself in the head."

"He was beating the shit outta my brother. You wanted us to send him on a trip to Disney Land?" I was moving away from Sam to stand on the far side of the room from him, make Walker split his focus. Hopefully Sammy was clear headed enough to realize that he had to raise the gun while Walker was focused on me.

"You're brother's evil. You know it, Dean."

I almost laughed at that. Sammy being evil was still the best joke I'd heard all year. My skin might crawl when I'm around him lately, and I might have nightmares about Not Sam, but I know my kid brother. I was the one who taught him to tie his shoes and made sure he got Lucky Charms when Dad got cheep and wanted to get the store brand crap. He didn't have an evil bone in his body. "What I know is, that you kidnapped and tortured him. He didn't do anything. And he's the last person in the world who would ever hurt anybody."

"Oh, that's right. He was possessed." Walker made a dismissive gesture with his gun hand, temporarily removing Bobby from the line of fire and a gunshot echoed loudly in the room. Walker turned to look at Sam, shocked and dazed as his right arm fell to his side, useless. There was a hole in Walker's shoulder, right at the joint, and Sammy had my gun at hip level. God bless Dad for teaching us to shot from the hip. The gun fell from Walker's spasming grasp and he staggered backwards. Bobby wheeled around and punched him dead in the face.

I finished untying Sam as fast as I could and he slid out of the chair bonelessly. I caught him, trying to be as gentle as I could. "You did good kid," I murmured. "But you gotta stay with me a few more minutes, okay? We gotta get outta here. No tellin' who else is here."

Sam nodded weakly and tried to keep some of his weight off me. I really hoped he wasn't succeeding because if he was he was a hell of a lot heavier then he looked. Fucking giant. Bobby had retrieved his shotgun from just outside the door and was following us.

"Think you can avoid being snuck up on again, Bobby?"

"You're not half as cute as you think you are, kid."

I chuckled as I pushed Sammy's limp body into the truck. "That's still pretty damn cute."

He let out a soft huff of air that I assumed was a laugh as he got into the passenger's side. "You Winchesters are gonna be the death of me."

Whatever was left of Walker's crew seemed to have scattered and we got the truck backed out of the house without anyone else popping out of the woodwork. Dad was waiting for us on the outskirt of the property with the Impala. He opened my door almost before the truck came to a stop and I got out as soon as I had her in park, knowing that he wanted to see Sammy for himself. He checked him over, quickly and efficiently, cursing softly under his breath periodically and apologizing every time Sam groaned and sucked in a breath. When he was finished he gave Sam a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Sorry kid. You're gonna have to go to the hospital."

"Dad," he began, a whine clear in his voice.

"It's not a suggestion, Sammy."

Sam huffed out a breath. "Yessir." He still sounded a little petulant but at least he wasn't arguing.

Dad got out of the truck and headed for the Impala. "Internal bleeding," I asked quietly enough for Sam not to hear.

"I believe so," he said, not breaking stride, his voice sounding cold as my blood suddenly felt. "Nearest hospital son, quick as fucking possible."

Fucking son of a bitch. If I could have, I'd go back and make sure Walker was dead. Dad went ahead of me in the Impala, drawing off any cops that might be on traffic duty, so I could ignore the traffic rules and get Sam to the nearest ER. By the time we arrived, Dad was already there, waiting anxiously with a wheelchair he'd commandeered from somewhere, and Sam was unconscious. We loaded him in the chair as gently as possible and wheeled him inside, yelling for help. Someone finally came and took him away while we began the one thing I hated more than anything else about hospitals. The waiting.

Thanks smartassmusicjunkie94! Dean being pissed is pretty much an understatement.

Thanks Yammy1983! None of the Winchesters can catch a break. Poor guys.

I don't think John would have blown Shark Guy's head off either if he'd felt he had a choice talon81. But the guy was about to start whaling on his already battered youngest son and he was too far away to do much else to stop him.

Yeah, NongPradu, the whole thing with Meg was pretty traumatizing for both of them. Every time Dean remembers it, it's with Sam's voice and body.

Thanks monkeymuse! I honestly don't know if Meg will resurface yet. We'll see where it goes.

Yeah, rog457. Dean and Sam have both been through the ringer.

Here you go, redgriffin7. Hope this lives up to your expectations.

Gorden's pretty much certifiable moira4eku. Will Gordon come back? Well… he wasn't dead yet when we last saw him. Will he bleed to death and make Sam feel guilty for killing a person while not possessed? Or will he come after the Winchesters again? You'll just have to wait and see…

That's not even everything that happened, greendaypumpkin. I don't think I can write much more, or if I do it'll be very piecemeal. It's intense for me too.

-Angie