Fatal Attractions

By Ria

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing in the sandbox.

A/N: Huge THANK YOU to everyone for your patience waiting on this chapter. I realize it was a horrible cliffy and I actually did want to get this chapter posted a lot sooner. As some of you know, I have spent the last month working on "The Krampus Before Christmas" with the goal of having it complete and posted before December 25th. Now that I know I'll be making the deadline, I'm excited to hop back into this story.

THANK YOU FOR REVIEWS! (Chapter 20)

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Chapter 21: Nick of Time

Near Baker City, Oregon

Bobby Singer edged the door open very, very slowly, gun drawn and ready to confront any evil that may pop out to challenge him. Despite the openness of the room, the air was thick and heavy as intimately familiar and violent scents drifted past his nostrils. Everything was silent and still. His attention was immediately drawn to the curled up figure atop the bed. He glanced to the hall behind him once more before pushing the rest of the way into the room and taking a few hesitant steps toward the foot-board, alert for a trap. Nothing happened.

The pale, limp body in front of him didn't so much as twitch at his presence. If not for the barely visible expansion of his lungs, Bobby would have thought the person was dead. He looked in confusion at the blonde locks but wasn't thrown by the kid's identity for a second. "Sam?" He whispered but didn't get a response — no surprise there.

Bobby shifted around the bed, unable to tear his eyes from the contusions marring Sam's skin and noticing how many of the bruises lined up with the hem of the kid's pants. It wasn't a leap to expect that even more damage was hidden from view beneath the dark fabric. He crouched down next to the side of the mattress near Sam's head and placed two fingers against his neck, searching for a pulse. "Come on Son, jus' give me a sign you're in there." He mumbled, unnerved by how still the younger hunter was.

The pulse was slow but steady… possibly sedated? Bobby glanced at the suitcase he had stepped around moments before and then behind him at the nightstand where an unlabeled vial of clear liquid rested. "Balls." He cursed, standing and leaning over his friend to look for track marks on Sam's arms. He hardly had to search before an ugly red dot on the olecranal skin came into view. "Well, hopefully we'll have you nice and safe before you gotta deal with any trauma."

Bobby gently pulled away the gag pinching at Sam's cheeks and removed the wadded up fabric from inside the kid's mouth, cringing at how uncomfortable that had to have been when he was conscious. He was reaching into his vest pocket to retrieve his lock picks, anxious to remove the heavy metal cuffs from Sam's wrists and ankles, when the room door popped open. He whirled to face the enemy, gun ready to fire, but sighed in relief when he saw that it was just Dean. "Bout time idjit. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

But Dean's attention wasn't on the older hunter. In fact, he couldn't even distinguish what the man had said. His only focus was his noticeably smaller kid brother huddled on the bed. Dean pressed the door closed behind him — wanting to place a solid barrier between the hunters and any possible threats the outside world may offer — and was instantly climbing onto the side of the bed next to his brother. The blood-soaked sheets were filthy but Sam was part of the mess and getting to him was the only thing that mattered to Dean in the moment.

"Sammy?" Dean prodded shakily, taking in his brother's frail pallor, bruising, and messy blonde… wait… friggin blonde hair. After a lifetime of heated disputes between Sam and their father over the appearance of the kid's hair, Dean was finding it unimaginable that his brother had been a willing party to this alteration. He ran his hand through the damp bangs but Sam didn't even flinch at the contact.

Bobby felt Dean's questioning and impatient gaze fixate on him as he worked to free Sam's feet from the cuffs. The casted ankle was easy to pop open, but the other clasp was being absurdly difficult. "He's drugged." The older hunter responded gruffly followed by a satisfied "Got it!" when the fettered limbed was finally unhooked.

"Hurry up with his hands." Dean ordered, wanting to get his brother's arms into a more comfortable position. Sam's obvious weight loss and lack of response toward any attempts to rouse him had Dean on edge. He need to uncurl his brother to perform a better triage of injuries.

"Hold yer horses boy, it's an art." Bobby replied, ignoring the younger hunter's scowl to concentrate on the task at hand. The wrist cuffs were much easier to unhitch. Bobby went to pull Sam's left arm forward so he could turn the kid onto his back but was surprised when the limp limb still refused to move. He realized quickly that the silk wraps, which originally appeared to be just protection from the sharp metal, were also being used as a form of restraint. A quick flick of Bobby's knife easily shredded the fabric.

Just as the older hunter was working to reposition Sam, the room's door was boldly pushed open, revealing Max's lackey Travis. The weaselly man's focus was fixated on the Android phone in his palm as he commented, "Hurry it up boss, we need to get on the road. The buyer's pissed and wants to talk to you about the additional delay on his property."

By the time Travis noticed it wasn't Max in the room, Dean had already pounced and knocked the smaller man to the floor. Flashes of light filled Travis's vision as his head smacked into the floor, pain exploding behind his eyes. When his focus returned, he sneered back at the enraged face of the stranger filling his view. "Who the fuck are you?" He barked. "Where's Max?"

"I'm that 'property's' badass brother who's gonna beat your teeth into your brain." Dean snarled, raising his fist.

A brief look of fear flashed over Travis's face before his features turned to steel. "Huh," He shrugged, uncaring, "Thought Max said the kid had no family."

"Max was dead wrong which also happens to be where he is right now." Dean smirked at his corny comment before continuing. "If you tell me what the Hell you've been pumping into my brother's veins, I just might let you live."

Travis tried to pull his arms free from his sides, but Dean's thighs kept them pinned tight while he straddled the rodent-like villain's abdomen. The smaller man's eyes glanced away from his attacker and caught sight of a glowering Bobby standing across the room. There was no way in Hell he was getting out of this but he wasn't going to make it easy for them. "Guess you killed your answer to that smart guy. I ain't got no clue what drugs Max was mixing. It's kind of his own cocktail."

Dean's grip tightened on the man's collar. "Liar" he spat.

"Nope, all truth. Ain't no prescription sedative to knock someone out for 24 straight hours like that shit does… not without killing the person from overdose first." Travis grinned, feeling the alarm cross between the other two men as they exchanged glances over the information. "See, Max was gonna stuff your boy in that suitcase over there and haul him around like luggage through a couple interchanging flights. Couldn't have him waking up mid-transport. Might arouse suspicion with the civilians."

Dean's fist came down into Travis's nose right as the weasel finished his sentence. Bobby heard the cracking of bone from across the room, followed by sputtering as he tried to clear his airway of blood and snot.

Travis did his best to recover from the blow, feeling true fear of what the man atop him was capable of for the first time since the encounter started — the guy clearly wasn't just a talker. "Okay, okay." He whined a bit, choking under Dean's grip. "How about this? Max is out, obviously, but the deal's still good. That kid over there is worth 12 million. The contract is already signed. Help me get him out to the car and I'll handle the rest… you guys get half the pay for doing nothing. Think about it a minute. What's family compared to 6 million bucks?"

Unable to keep his rage pent up any longer, Dean shouted, "Priceless!" And brought his fist down again. And again. And again. A few tears streamed down his face as he continued to beat this little prick's face into a bloody pulp. How dare he even suggest Dean help him sell off his baby brother to some sex fiend.

By the time Bobby pulled him off the mangled man, Dean had lost track how many times he'd pummeled the guy's face. It was ugly though — black eyes and bruises from shattered bones, blood flowing in varied directions over his cheeks and chin, barely a trembled breath escaping. Dean heaved trying to control the anger as he fought Bobby's hold on his biceps.

"Dean," Bobby commented softly, calmly, "Let it go. He's done. Your brother needs you right now."

That comment got through the haze of fury. Sammy. His brother needed care and comfort more in that moment than Dean needed to fill his drive for revenge. He nodded a few times, allowing the tension to leave his muscles. Bobby felt the change as well and released his grip on the younger hunter.

The relief of finding Sam had been lost to the raw display of violence displayed by Dean and Bobby felt a bit overwhelmed, suddenly quite anxious to get the Hell out of there. "Take care of Sam. I'll get the car moved up to the house."

It only took Bobby a moment to locate a set of keys in the front pocket of Travis's baggy jeans. He'd have to use the man's vehicle to go get the Impala since they left it at a camping site a few miles west of the mansion.

Dean watched Bobby exit the room and used a sleeved forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow. The exertion moments before left him on edge as the adrenaline very slowly drained from his system. He hesitantly looked back to his brother, eyes trailing over the filthy comforter and stained sheets, feeling lost and alone. How was he possibly going to deal with this? How was Sam?

Making his way back to the bedside, Dean crouched down so his face was even with Sam's and ran his fingers through his kid's greasy hair. "Come on Sammy. Give me something here man. You're safe now." He whispered, but Sam was clearly far from consciousness and wouldn't be rousing anytime soon assuming Travis had told them the truth about the drug's effects. Dean's mind checked out momentarily, feeling like it was on overload.

Leave emotion out of it Dean. John Winchester's voice broke through the eldest son's daze and snapped Dean back to reality. Take it one step at a time. Assess the scene and the damage. What's your next step?

"Next step." Dean responded aloud. Sam was alive — that was what mattered — and didn't appear too injured to travel. Bobby went to get the car. Sam needs to be ready to move.

Dean swiftly stood and moved to a closet at the end of the room. He started rooting around for anything to cover his brother. His first thought was a change of clothes but he quickly dismissed the idea, not wanting to jostle Sam too much without knowing the full extent of his injuries. He settled for a clean smelling blanket that looked like it had never been used.

Returning to the soiled bed, Dean laid the fresh blanket down flat and started gently scooting Sam onto it. The loss of weight and muscle he felt while moving his brother made him slightly sick to his stomach. Soon as Sam woke up, Dean was going to take him out and raid the nearest 'all you can eat' buffet. He wrapped up his lanky baby brother as best he could for the kid's length before sliding in behind Sam against the headboard.

Having a minute to breathe and not particularly caring if Bobby came back to see his moment of vulnerability, Dean pulled Sam against his chest and hugged his brother tightly just like he used to when Sammy was little and would need his big brother to chase away the nightmares. He rested his chin against Sam's hair, praying that maybe someday, the trauma Sam suffered here would only be a distant nightmare — something Dean could protect him from.

This was the scene Bobby returned to. The older man offered Dean a sad smile and didn't dare say anything about the 'chick flick' moment he had walked in on - knowing he would end up in that same condition as the weaselly man who was still out cold on the floor.

"You ready to move him Son? I'd like to get on the road." Bobby asked softly.

Dean nodded and slipped off the bed, carefully laying Sam flat again and making sure the blanket was still tucked tightly against his body. "I'll get his upper half and you take the legs?"

"Yea, that will work. Stairs are gonna be tricky though. We'll have to take it real slow." Bobby added and got no argument from Dean — whatever they had to do so it would be safe for Sam.

As predicted, the three flights of stairs were a total pain in the ass. There were several instances where the older hunters had to set Sam down just to reposition their feet and steady their balance. Roughly fifteen minutes later, The front door of the manor was pushed open, allowing the three hunters freedom from the stuffy halls.

The back door of the Impala was only feet away from mansion — Bobby had wanted to get as close to the building as he could and didn't particularly care that he had ruined Pryor's over-perfected landscaping.

Dean, still supporting his brother's back, slid into the back seat first while Bobby helped to guide Sam's legs into the vehicle. The older hunter didn't bother to ask Dean if he'd be riding in the back with his brother — that answer was obvious when the younger man readjusted his position at the opposite side of the bench seat, clearly trying to find a comfortable way to sit and hold Sam.

The pillows and blankets Dean had packed were scattered all over the rear interior of the Impala and the older brother hoped they would provide enough comfort for Sam's injured body. "Hey Bobby?" Dean asked, waiting until he had the man's attention before continuing, "Could you grab the first aid kit from the back? I'd like to get a few cold packs on some of these bruises."

"Sure thing Son." Bobby replied before disappearing around back of the car.

Bobby returned quickly with the medical gear and finished tucking Sam's legs into the Impala. "Dean, I'm gonna head back upstairs to clear out some evidence. Call me if you need to but I'll be back real quick."

Dean nodded and felt the car door slam shut as his attention turned toward a particularly dark contusion on Sam's upper pectoral muscle.

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Letting Dean get settled with Sam in the car, Bobby had decided it would be in their best interest to clear the brutal scene in Pryor's bedroom of any evidence that the younger Winchester had been there - or at least as much as possible. Bobby had grabbed an oily rag from the Impala's trunk and swiftly ran it over every solid surface in the room to remove prints.

Bobby then slipped his hands under the armpits of the still unconscious man and drug him toward the foot of the bed, debating the best way to handle the witness situation. There was no way he'd be leaving the lewd man free to contact more business associates and chase the Winchesters down.

He propped the smaller man against the side of the mattress and reached for the handcuffs he had discarded off Sam earlier. Bobby snapped each end over the man's wrists, making sure the short chain was looped through the bed frame behind his back.

Once the man was secured, Bobby turned his attention to the soiled bedding. He bundled everything up and unceremoniously dumped the linens in the overly large tub he found in the bathroom. He plugged up the drain and turned the water pressure on high. The liquid would fill to the top and hopefully contaminate any DNA samples that could be taken when the police arrived.

Bobby took one last glance around the room to ensure there wasn't anything more to do and was about to exit when he heard a hoarse voice behind him.

"You're both complete idiots for not taking me up on this deal." Travis commented at the retreating older man, his voice muffled by his rearranged face. "The kid's out cold, he'd never know you sold him out."

"It's frightnin' that we live in a world where someone can be so heartless about a person's life. Yer lucky his brother didn't kill you. Hell, I'm tempted to do it myself." Bobby shot back disdainfully.

Travis scrunched his face up painfully before snipping, "What are you, their father or something?"

"Yea, or something." Bobby responded, not bothering to exchange any further words with the scumbag. He was anxious to get back to the car and help his kids escape this nightmare.

TBC...

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