AN: You guys have been awesome and I want to do something nice for you so...you get two chapters today! Chapters 28 and 29 on the house! :)
"Look, just get me one of those compression pack things, some Perc, and I'll be good," Dean complained when Sam pulled into their motel parking lot.
"You don't need Percocet for a twisted ankle," Sam said, putting the car in park.
"I do if I'm gonna be right back on it finding Cas."
"You're not going anywhere," Sam said, exiting out the driver's side door. Dean frowned and opened his door. He tried to get out, but the moment his twisted foot bore any of his weight, he bucked forward, nearly face-planting onto the asphalt if it hadn't been for Sam grabbing him by his shoulder at the last second.
"See?" Sam said, shaking his head. He pulled Dean upright and pulled Dean's arm over his shoulder. Dean bit down on his lip to suppress a moan. His arm was stretched upwards and over due to the height difference between him and Sam. "You can barely even stand! You're gonna lay in bed, rest that foot. I'm going to get Cas."
"Not by yourself you're not," Dean spat, forced to move when Sam took a step forward. Fire raced up his spine. "That guy has a hellhound," Dean said through gritted teeth, "and apparently vampires and werewolves and who knows what the hell else. You need backup."
"Dean, you're not backup like this. Besides, we need to figure out what those symbols in the book are," Sam said. "We have to know what kind of binding he's using on Cas, if Cas is gonna be hurt or depowered."
"You're not going by yourself," Dean repeated. Sam rolled his eyes and nearly dragged Dean to the motel room. "I'll be fine, I just need—"
"What do you need, Dean?"
Dean swallowed. He had to work with Sam so that Sam could open the motel door without letting go of Dean.
"I need to be there," he said eventually. "When we save him."
"I think Cas would rather you be safe than fling yourself into danger trying to save him," Sam said, dropping Dean onto the motel bed closest to the door. He pulled off Dean's shoe, and sock, hissing at the level of swelling in the short amount of time. Dean glanced down towards it briefly and winced; it hurt like a bitch, but seeing it was another thing. It was swollen to nearly twice its size. It had a massive bruise all the way around, arching up towards Dean shin; and Sam was at the end of his foot, looking down at him with pity.
Dean, overcome with frustration and anger and his own helplessness, turned onto his stomach screamed into the itchy motel pillow. Sam didn't understand; Dean needed to be there to save Cas. He was going to be there, no matter what Sam said or did. It was just a twisted ankle; Dean's worked with worse injuries before, and he knew he'd be okay if Sam would just give him the freaking pain meds.
What Cas wanted didn't matter at this point; they had to do whatever it took to save him, and the fact of the matter was, Sam couldn't go alone. Not into the house of a lunatic who kept hellhounds and vampires and angels as pets, who was well articulated in some of the darkest sects of witchcraft.
"I'm going, Sam," Dean snapped. The Big Brother card hadn't worked for years, not since Sam left for college, but Dean was desperate and not above pulling it. "You can't stop me."
Sam scoffed. "Dean, you can't even walk on your own. Couldn't even make it out the front door. Trust me, I don't have to worry about stopping you."
"I'll be fine. I just need—"
"You don't need narcotics. Look, I'll give you a Tylenol, but you know you don't need more than that."
Sam left the motel room.
Dean banged his head against the headboard and looked up at the ceiling. This was not happening. He and Cas—they'd been pulled apart by Heaven and Hell and Purgatory—Dean was not going to let a sprained ankle be a barrier.
Sam came back in, duffel bags falling from his shoulders. He dug through his and pulled out the red first aid kit, rattling their Costco sized bottle of Tylenol. It rattled loudly, nearing empty. Sam grimaced, but popped open the cap and dumped two white pills into his hand. He passed them on to Dean.
"I'll get you a glass of water," Sam said, walking to the bathroom. He came back with one of those paper Dixie cups and rested it on the nightstand.
Dean stared at the pills in his hand, throwing them back and swallowing them down. The water was revolting; Dean fought against the urge to gag, the pills sliding slowly down his throat.
"I'm gonna head back," Sam said. "You rest up here, and Cas and I will be back before you know it."
"Sam—"
"Dean, no."
Sam's face was pale, but there was an undercurrent of rage burning in his eyes. His eyebrows were raised and his lips pulled slightly back, giving him a look of animalistic fury.
"Look, you're a liability—"
"Sam, please."
Dean didn't know what it was. Something in his tone, or expression, but he poured every ounce of whatever it was he felt heavy in his heart and soul and mind and forced it out, somewhere Sam could see and feel. Sam was the one that fell for the sob stories, the compassionate one, full of empathy. Sam had to understand. Dean couldn't sit on the sidelines while Sam got to play Knight in Shining Armor.
Besides, this was his fault. He endangered Cas, put Cas into this position; he had to be the one to save him.
"I have to be there," Dean said.
Sam sighed, his shoulders lowering. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes tight. Dean took that opportunity to study his baby brother. Sam had lines growing around the corners of his eyes. Dean wondered how many he put there.
"You stay in the car," Sam said eventually.
Something loosened in Dean's chest, something he didn't even know was there until it was gone. He exhaled.
"I'm serious, Dean," Sam said. "You sit your ass in the car and you wait—"
"Yeah, Sam, I got it," Dean said, already drawing schemes in his brain on how he could get into the house on his own. Still, a smile broke his cheeks, and he was trembling in anticipation.
"Okay," Sam sighed again. "I'll take the angel and demon blade—one of them should work against a hellhound, anyway—and I'll find Cas."
Sam walked up to Dean and pulled Dean's arm over his shoulder. It didn't hurt as much to walk on it as it did earlier, so at least the Tylenol was doing something (even if Dean still would've preferred some Percocet). The carpet was rough and scratchy against his barefoot, which dragged against the floor as Sam walked slowly out the door to the car.
The hot gravel was harder to walk on. Dean had to bent his knee and raise his shin so that he didn't burn himself, and it took him and Sam longer than it should have to get from the motel door to the Impala, but they got there, Sam helping Dean into the car.
Sam slammed the passenger side door.
"Just so you know," Sam said as he manipulated his way into the driver's seat, "I totally hate this."
"I hadn't noticed," Dean said, wincing as Sam pushed the seat all the way back with no warning.
Sam rolled his eyes and put the car into the drive. Dean looked out the window, at the pacing scenery that meant one foot closer to Cas.
Almost there, Cas, Dean prayed. Just a little longer.
Sam parked on the opposite side of the house as they originally came. Dean bit his lip, but kept quiet as he tried to come up with a plan. He was going to have to walk farther now, but he would push through. He went hungry and exhausted for Sam, he could do this for Cas.
Sam sat in the front seat and went through his weapons. Angel and demon blade kept in his belt loop, the Colt holstered to his hip, and a vial of holy water in his jacket pocket. Anything Magnus had locked away in that mansion of his wouldn't stand a chance.
"Okay," Sam said. "I'll try and be back within an hour."
Dean snorted. "Have you seen the place, Sam? It's huge! It's gonna take you a lot more than an hour to search and find Cas."
Sam rolled his eyes. "I'll be back as soon as I can." Sam frowned. "Don't do anything stupid," he added with a pointed look.
Dean held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "When have I ever done anything stupid?"
Sam looked annoyed and disappointed as he left the car, locking it behind him. Dean craned his neck to watch Sam walked around the corner of the house. Dean swallowed and rested his head against the seat. He waited, estimating when Sam should be at the front steps, on top of the steps, inside the house.
Then he looked out the window. The yard was sparse, and mostly dead. Dean unlocked the car and opened the door. He was hit in the face with the warm evening air. He put all his weight on his arms and pushed himself up, bracing against dashboard. His legs shook. His bad ankle was like a dead fish. Dean made it out of the car, and shifted his weight against the side of the Impala. He gritted his teeth, and had to half crawl, half climb across the Impala to get to the trunk. Then Dean faced another challenge, of having to free one arm to open the trunk. Dean shifted and put the hip above his good ankle against the bumper and slowly, he transferred weight from one arm. It was a slow and painful process. When Dean opened the trunk, he almost hit himself in the jaw.
But he got it done.
Dean let out a shaky breath in relief.
Dean rooted through the trunk, pushed past their bags of rock salt and ammo, searching, searching—and then he found it.
It was an umbrella. Tall, black and ugly—but it was made of steel and the rod was solid. Dean put the tip onto the ground, holding onto the curved handle. It came up just past his hip. It was too short to be a proper cane, but it was something. Dean shut the trunk down and tried it out.
He had to walk slowly. The ground was itchy underneath his barefoot, but thankfully the ground wasn't painfully hot.
He took one step. And then another. And then another. It was slow, and painful; ten feet away from the car, Dean was soaked in sweat. His chest ached. He was gasping for breath, but each breath he took was like a stab to his lungs.
The house seemed so far away suddenly.
But Dean had to be there. He had to find Cas, had to be backup for Sam.
One more step, he thought to himself, clenching the umbrella handle. One more step.
He kept up the mantra the whole way, moving slowly. One more step.
Little by little, the house didn't seem so far away anymore.
