Tethered

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's note: This is a short chapter and maybe nothing worthy happens in it but I wanted to reassure all of you that this story is progressing. And besides, my muse is pretty down in the dumps about the current storyline in Season 9 so this is all I have so far. Writing this tale about Dean and Sam struggling with everything they have to be brothers, it really seems AU to me now. Please remember this story is set in Season 8, when the brothers just lost Bobby and realized that their brotherhood was more than enough to see them through anything, even the hatred of a crazed brother-hating Indian.

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Chapter 25

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Perched on the edge of the hospital bed, one hand fisted around the foot rail and another on the edge of the mattress to ensure he didn't do something embarrassing, like pitch forward, Dean watched Sam slip into commander mode. Seconds later, Wade and Strongeagle left the room to do his little brother's bidding, namely see if everyone in the hallway was ok and Nathan was on the phone, dutifully checking in with the chief on the incident reports coming in.

When his brother's taut attention turned back to him, Dean straightened his posture and schooled his features to not reflect just how crappy he felt. But he knew he wasn't pulling it off when his brother's face slipped from determined hunter to worried brother. Hastily speaking before Sam could, he ordered, "Find my clothing."

"No, Dean. Just lie back down…." Sam pacifyingly entreated more than commanded, hand slipping around Dean's forearm, ready to tug Dean to a stand, shuffle him a few feet to the right and settle him back into bed.

From his vantage point of the hospital room's visitor chair, Nathan watched the interchange between the brothers, almost snorted when Sam had the delusional thought that Dean would obediently crawl back into the hospital bed. 'Good luck with that, Sam.' And to prove Nathan's skepticism was right on target, Dean made his counter move a second later by cinching his fingers around Sam's forearm.

As much as Sam had missed Dean's touch, he was almost frustrated that that connection had been restored between them when Dean's hand latched onto his. Just that simple contact initiated by Dean, it instantly stilled his movements, effectively derailed his intentions of manhandling his brother back under the covers of his hospital bed. Because the very idea of shaking off Dean's touch after everything they had been through?! So not happening.

Refusing to concede defeat so easily, Sam, with his hand still possessively coiled around his brother's forearm, began in his most patient, logical, imploring little brother tone, "Dean…."

"I'm not sitting around, waiting for this psycho ghost to send a horde of locusts after me, Sam," Dean growled, eyes locked onto Sam's. "Not to mention let him take out a hospital wing trying to off me," he angrily tacked on, chin jerking toward the chaos in the hallway that Paytah's visit had wrecked.

"So we move you to a different room and put up more salt. Maybe Strongeagle has a ward to keep Paytah out," Sam negotiated, though he had little hope Dean would buy into any of it. But he had to try, could feel Dean's arm trembling under his grip, the weakened grip of the hand around his forearm, and then there was the unmistakable pale sheen of his brother's face. All of which were worrisome signs that put his brotherly protective instincts into overdrive.

"Yeah, because he's having such a hard time finding me and the salt's really screwing up his plans," Dean scathingly drawled, cut off Sam's imploring "Dean…" with a resolute, "No. I'm bailing this scene and we're taking this ghost out. Tonight."

"Dean, it's dark outside! We'd be lucky to find the cave …let alone not mistakenly cross the town limits," Sam exasperatedly pointed out but his outburst only earned him his brother's trademark brazen smirk.

"Night's when we do our best work, Sammy."

Wade entered the room in time to hear that last statement and joined Sam's scowling ranks. "Please tell me you're not thinking of going after Paytah tonight."

Not deterred at the tone of disapproval, Dean's smug smile only brightened. "No time like the present."

Voice raising with his blood pressure, Sam challenged, "And how are we going to stop Paytah, Dean? You think of that? Because him shedding innocent blood, didn't do jack."

Something flickered in Dean's eyes, had his bravado vanish, leaving a shroud of anguish to take its place. "How do we know it doesn't?" At Sam's tilted head of confusion, Dean clarified, "Innocent? Me?! Come on, that's not applied since I was what….ten?"

Sam's jaw clenched, not only at Dean's inference that he wasn't innocent, was evil, but at the blunt knowledge that Dean had been drenched in blood even before he could drive a car, could go to his first dance, had been exposed to the necessity of kill or be killed at an age where most boys still tolerated hugs from their mothers. If they had one. "You don't deserve to get your throat slit, Dean!" Sam refuted with aching outrage that Dean could think he did.

Giving a non-committal shrug of his shoulders at Sam's statement, Dean suggested, "Ok, so we torch the altar."

"…and piss Paytah off. Then what?" Sam cuttingly dared, planned to uphold his vow to not go into this without the odds being in their favor that they both walked out of it.

"You're the geek research guy, you figure it out," Dean retorted, felt shamed even as the words left him. This wasn't on Sam to figure out, was on them, together.

Fighting down his irk, Sam shifted on his feet and leveled a look of exasperation not anger at his wounded brother. "Dean, Strongeagle and I both looked and looked. There's nothing about how to get rid of a spirit. Their culture embraces stuff like spirits, doesn't seek to destroy them."

"Well, score another rousing defeat to Zen, then," Dean sarcastically sallied back. "Because Paytah's not playing by those pacifist rules. And he's not drawing a line with wiping out just white men. He went after Strongeagle, thinks the kid betrayed him. Blood is definitely not thicker than water with this guy. Unless you think I'm wrong and you wanna try and sit down with a peace pipe with your long dead Indian coz?" he said to Strongeagle, who had stopped midway into the room.

Swinging around, Sam saw the peak of shame coloring Strongeagle's dark features. But the Indian didn't retreat at Dean's words but rejoined their group.

"He knows I'm trying to help you, that I've taken sides against him and he's…"

"Pissed," Nathan aptly supplied from his seated position in the room before he climbed to his feet, completed the ring of expert and rookie ghostbusters. "Look I'm not saying it's a brilliant move, but I agree with Dean. This guy, he needs taken out tonight."

"Oh, thanks for the backhanded compliment," Dean grumbled under his breath even as the rest of the room erupted into protests.

Angrily turning to his best friend, Wade exploded, "Are you crazy? Dean can't even stand, Sam's got ten stitches in his shoulder…"

Meanwhile, Sam argued, "Dean, we can't go up against him without a plan!"

Leaning closer to the two brothers, Strongeagle interjected, "I still say unity is the key."

The fray might have gone on indefinitely if not for the crash in the hallway and the raised voice that weren't coming from Dean's room. "Now what?!" Dean grumbled, ready to hop off the bed and join Wade and Nathan on their jaunt to the door, but Sam's big paw came down onto his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, drawling his attention to this brother's set features that were suddenly inches from his own.

"Stay put! I mean it," Sam unyieldingly commanded, gave Dean's shoulder another meaningful squeeze before he bolted for the door. The scene Sam was confronted with didn't involve a ghost but two very real, very volatile men trading punches. 'Brothers,' Sam concluded with nearly a sigh, watched as Wade and Nathan intervened, tore the two siblings apart but couldn't temper the hurled threats that still passed between the two men.

Sam startled as a bed pan bounced off the floor with a racket, barely missing the man exiting the room beside Dean's. At the assault, the man stopped, turned and gave a parting shot to the unseen patient in the room that certainly didn't miss its mark. "I hope your next heart attack's soon…and fatal."

Hoarse shouting could be heard from another part of the wing as it ricocheted off the wall, female voices this time.

It was pure bedlam, family style.

Unleashing a low curse, Sam begrudgingly acknowledged that Dean was right, they couldn't wait any longer to confront Paytah, not if they didn't want more fatalities in the town. That didn't mean he didn't hate that Dean was right, that he couldn't let Dean heal up instead of trudging him out into the middle of the woods…to face off with a ghost they didn't even know how to stop.

"I don't think Sam wants you out of bed," Strongeagle fretfully said as he stepped closer to Dean, who was NOT obeying his brother's order, was on his feet and eyeing up the closet in the room, as if he were gauging the distance from his present location.

Re-entering the room, Sam scowled at Dean but didn't offer up a reprimand for Dean's prohibited stance beside his bed, instead he crossed to the closet, pulled out Dean's clothing and faced his brother. "For the record, this is a stupid idea…but if we don't do something soon, Josh Larson won't be the last brother Paytah kills."

"That's what I was going to tell you," Nathan rejoined as he and Wade stood in the doorway. "The chief said the incidents of violence are widespread across town. That there's no way for our small police force to respond to all the 911 calls of assault."

That tidbit had Dean self-righteously holding his hand out for his clothing, knowing that he wasn't going to be benched tonight. Not even by Sam. That didn't mean Sam was happy about it, the fact that Sam was radiating apprehension and was presenting that tight lipped grimace told Dean that and more. So he made a point to not gloat when his brother reluctantly handed him his clothing. But felt Sam picked up on his undercurrent of anticipation and was punishing him for it when, instead of leaving the room to give him some privacy to change like the others had, he claimed the seat that Nathan had vacated.

Dean sent his brother a glare but Sam settled back more comfortably in the chair, content to watch him as if he was his personal entertainment for the day. "Perv," Dean grumbled as, with a little stumbling and leaning back against the bed, he managed to pull on his jeans. But when he made an ill-advised move to reach behind him to untie the hospital gown, he grunted out in pain and hastily dropped his arms. Needed to regroup before he tried that again.

"Turn," Sam quietly instructed, knew he had gained Dean's side without his knowledge when his brother's head snapped up when he spoke. Doing a spiral with his finger, Sam patiently waited until Dean shifted on the bed, gave him access to his back then he made quick work of the ties at Dean's neck and waist. But he cringed at the abuse that was still evident on his brother's back from the tree incident and the bandage wrapped around his torso hiding yet another wound. It made his doubts resurface but he shut them down. Dean wouldn't be left behind…and truth was, he didn't want to be anywhere but at Dean's side.

So instead of trying to convince Dean to do the smart thing and stay in the hospital, he carefully helped Dean tug on his shirt, tried to ignore the wrongness of Dean letting him put his shoes on for him without some smart aleck remark, and when he handed Dean his coat, he pretended not to notice the colorlessness of Dean's face. But when Dean stood up, ready to tackle the hunt, Sam barred his way, his eyes meaningfully holding his brother's. "I want to save the brothers in this town and I want to stop Paytah, I do. But I'm not ok with us dying to get it done," he declared, couldn't quite bring himself to say the whole truth. 'I'm not ok with you dying.' "So if we have to put it off another day…or …or…walk away…."

Dean frowned at that option, just like Sam knew he would. But before Dean could shoot the idea down, Sam insisted, "Hey, you're the one that suggested we bail on some hunts when you thought it was going to trigger my hell memories, so don't tell me we never walk away."

"Yeah, but we didn't, Sam. You didn't let me," Dean grimly reminded and suddenly Sam hated his own stubbornness.

"Well…this is…. different," Sam stammered, knew he didn't have a leg to stand on.

"Different, how?" Dean challenged, eye brows raised, waiting for Sam's comeback so he could shoot it down.

'Different because this is your life at stake more than mine,' Sam wanted to say but didn't, said instead, "Because we're like… twenty to zero against this guy. We're…"

"We're not out of our league!" Dean denied the statement Sam hadn't even vocalized. "He's a ghost, Sam. We know what to do with ghosts."

"Yeah, and how's our usual stuff working with him?" Sam posed but lightly, knew that he was just as frustrated as Dean with their failures. "I'm just saying….."

"Don't go into the cave if we can't both come out," Dean quietly repeated his brother's earlier sentiment. "I hear what you're saying, Sam. I do," When that concession only earned him an inhale of exasperation from his brother, he earnestly vowed, "Ok, I agree, alright. We go in together, we come out together." Because at the heart of it, there was no way on earth he was letting Sammy go down into another pit without him. Just like there was no way Sam wasn't making it back out this time in one piece, heart and soul intact. But Dean was finally starting to realize that, if he wanted Sam whole and unbroken, he couldn't leave him alone, had to be there with him, that they had to be together. Or no victory would ever matter.

"Ok," Sam quietly accepted Dean's oath, had faith it would be upheld because he easily detected the affection for him in his brother's eyes, knew that Dean wouldn't deliberately hurt him. And somewhere in the middle of arguing and mending fences, burning each other and going on an insane Indian vision quest, he had gotten his message through to Dean, that what hurt him most, wasn't hell memories, or guilt over the apocalypse, or even all the people they had lost. No, what hurt most was them being at odds, being separated, or worse yet, when someone or something managed to take his brother away from him.

That was something that Paytah had tried his best to accomplish …and failed.

'And I'm not giving him another shot to get it right,' Sam silently swore before he amended, 'we aren't,' because he and Dean finally wanted the same thing: To survive. And just like it had been proven time and time again, when he and Dean put their hearts into something, against all odds, it got done.

Tonight, it was Paytah's time to learn that lesson, the hard way.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.