Kill or Be Killed

By: chocolate rules


Chapter 13:

Talk


They had all been questioned. Well, Tom and Dean. Nobody wanted to talk to the cloakies and neither Dean nor John had allowed anyone to talk with Sam.

Sam clung around Dean's waist. Dean had as of yet to mention Sam's running away like that and his father hadn't said anything short of 'are you okay?' He knew it would come, his father wouldn't pass at the chance, but for now he clung to Dean. He clung onto safety.


After about twenty minutes of questioning, John Winchester made it clear that his sons would no longer be talking. He gave no sort of information on contact other than his cell phone number. Tom had called home and his own father had come to collect him. They too had decided that Tom had said enough. Both families left, thanking the other. One knowing they'd never see the other again, while the other just hoped they'd be alright.

The shattered boy sat in the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean had wrapped him in his coat and a blanket from the trunk. Still, though he wasn't cold, Sam sat shivering. Dean had known this, but it was the only comfort he could offer. He couldn't be gripping the boy in a back-breaking hug while he was driving. But when the tears and the sobbing penetrated through Metallica's loud rampage, Dean couldn't ignore them.

"Sammy," he said to the bundle in the seat beside him. He reached over and lowered the music to a barely audible level. "Sammy, you okay?" He got no reply. Great. Sammy wasn't one to lie to him. He used to just run into Dean's room and flat out rant about whatever was bothering him, but he was practically a teenager now. Sam spent a lot of time thinking things over. However, if Dean asked him what was wrong, he would usually not lie to him. And even if he tried, Dean could tell when Sam was lying a mile away.

"Sammy? It's okay now. Nothing's gonna get you. I've got you now." Dean tried to reassure. However, he could feel that they held little affect on the boy. "Come on, Sammy. What's on your mind? You can tell me." Pause. Nothing. "It's more than what they did to you, isn't it?" Pause. God he hated talking to himself. "Sam?"

"Yeah," Finally, thought Dean. Sam let out a small, quivering sigh. "Dean? Are you mad at me?"

"What? Why would you think that?" Dean said glancing over to his brother. Sam's head emerged from the blanket.

"I left, Dean. I didn't tell you where I was going. You were waiting for me and I left."

"Is that what's bothering you? Sam, its okay. I was mad, but then the hours passed. I'm just glad to have you back, kiddo. I don't care what you did. We're fine. Okay?"

"No, I lied, Dean."

"I know, Sammy. And you learned your lesson, right?"

"Yeah, but I still lied to you."

"Let's just forget about it."

"No, I lied. I can't just forget about it. I can't."

"Fine, then what do you want me to do about it."

"I don't know. Anything. I know you're still mad at me. All that stuff back there…" Sam quieted. The images from the room came back to him. The corpse, the table, the smell, the cloaks…

"Sammy?" Dean asked. He was looking over at him and could see the far away look in them. Damn! Dean slowed the car, pulling over to the side. He turned to look at Sam, who seemed unfazed by the movement.

Dean grabbed the blankets and pulled them and its prisoner to him. Sam looked over at him.

"They were people, Dean." he said softly, as if telling him a secret. Dean nodded. Then, he pulled the blanket off him and tossed it to the back seat.

"I know."

"And…those guys…they weren't even monsters. They were people too."

"Yeah. I know." he replied. He pulled off his coat from the boy. Now all that was left was shivering, sobbing Sammy. "Try not to think about it, okay?"

"I can't help it. I see it when I close my eyes. It's like I'm still there. I can still smell it all, Dean. I can't not think about it." he said. Then, he broke into tears again.

Dean pulled him into his lap. Sam's arms wrapped around his neck as his legs went around Dean's waist. It certainly wasn't the most comfortable way to seat at the wheel, but then Sammy needed it, so he could handle it for awhile. He placed one hand on Sam's head and the other on the boy's back. He rubbed Sammy's back in a circular motion, running his other hand through the untamed hair.

"I can't help it. Make them go away. Please, Dean."

"Shhh. It's over now. The cops took them and they'll lock them up and you're never going to see them again. And we'll get the hell out of this town and in a few weeks you'll forget all about this."

"No," Sam cried into him. "I won't. I won't ever forget. Not ever." And he tightened his hold on his brothers' neck.

"Sure you will, Sammy." Dean reassured him. He hated the idea of Sam having to remember tonight. He couldn't come up with how he was supposed to forget such horrific events, but he knew he was going to have to try.


Sam opted to sitting quietly on Dean's lap, sobbing. He didn't bother to care that his brother was lying to him; he just wanted to believe them. And so, Dean silently held him for a few minutes, allowing Sam to cry his heart out. It must have been really hard on the young boy, with everything that had been going on around him that he had managed to maintain the tuff Winchester exterior.

After a good eight minutes, Sam's cries lessened and he was merely wiping away the relentless tears. He pushed back away from Dean's chest slightly and looked out the window.

"What they did…" he started. Dean shook his head and interrupted the boy.

"…was wrong. There's no way around it. It was wrong and they'll pay for what they did. And you'll never hear about them every again."

"Won't they have a trial?" and Dean had to stop himself from either shaking his head at the boy or smacking him.

"Everyone's supposed to get a trial. If they have a trial, I'll have to testify. I'll have to see them again…"

"Don't worry about that. First, we'll get you home, into bed, and you'll rest for the night. Then, I'm sure Dad'll come up with something. He won't make you testify if you're not up to it. They can't make you. I won't let them." Sam turned to look at Dean and offered a residue of a smile.

"What can you do to stop them?" he asked in his little kid voice. Dean gave him a 'don't you know I'm the center of the universe?' look.

"Anything I want. We'll get the hell out of here. Drive for miles. I doubt Dad'll stay here anyway. They won't be able to find us." And Dean smiled as he added, "We'll return to the shadows, unseen, unknown, unhurt. And nothing will ever touch you again. I promise."

"Great, now I'll never be out of your sight," Sam said in the best sarcastic voice he could make at the moment.

"Damn right!" Dean said. He pulled Sammy into another tight hug and then pushed him back into the passenger's seat. Sammy settled into the seat, placing his seatbelt on and nestled himself into it. Dean pulled out back into the road and headed for what he thought was soon to be the last time to their little apartment.