Sanctuary

By: Cheryl W.

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

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Chapter 3: Confession Under Duress

"Dean, what the hell!" Sam yelled, his brother's tactics unnerving him, turning his insides cold with fear. "Uncuff me! Now!" he ordered, sitting up and finding his leash forced him to lean over to keep his wrist from being disconnected.

Taking a few more paces backward to stand in the center of the room, well out of Sam's kicking range, Dean tried to placate his brother. "Sam, just listen to me. This is …"

"Don't you dare say this is for my own good!" Sam snarled, his eyes shooting fire at Dean.

"Fine. Then it's for my own good," Dean amended, causing Sam's fire to dissipate into worry.

"I was right. This isn't just bad luck today is it?" Sam breathed, his heart pounding in his chest.

Digging into his jeans pocket, Dean pulled out a paperclip and held it up for Sam to see. "I'm going to leave this for you. It will take you some time but …"

Sam cut him off, his eyes glittering with frustration, "I'll get free…but too late to stop you from leaving," his accusation strong.

Reading the hurt and fear in his brother's eyes, Dean found he couldn't leave without some explanation, some closure in case…well in case things turned out badly. With gentleness, he tried to make Sam see reason. "Sam, its dangerous enough being with me on a normal basis, but today," his jaw clenched, "today it's deadly. I don't want you hurt. I couldn't bare that?" Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the paperclip onto the floor toward Sam's bed, and turned his back on Sam, heading for the door, knowing he couldn't endure the pleading look in Sam's eyes.

Immediately, Sam leapt for the paperclip, his left hand reaching in vain for the clip that lay inches away. Changing positions, Sam attempted to get the paperclip with his shoe. Even as his foot touched the clip, Sam knew his liberation would come too late, Dean would be gone. "Dean! Don't do this! Please don't do this!" his voice cracking with barely leashed fear and desperation. "Don't leave!" he pleaded, his eyes tearing away from the paperclip to his brother's back as he stood in the open doorway. "Dean, whatever's going on today we can handle it, together."

Dean didn't turn around, knew his resolve would break into a thousand pieces if his brother's beseeching words were reinforced with Sam's pleading eyes. "Sorry, Sam," he apologized, his voice rough as he stepped out the door and began to shut the door behind him.

"You said you wanted me to stay with you, for us to be a family again!" Sam called out, trembling with the knowledge of how close he was to losing Dean. The room door stopped closing right before it latched shut, obscuring Sam's view of Dean. "I'm right here, Dean. I'm not the one walking away, it's you! You're the one walking out on me, on our family!"

Sam's words cut into Dean's soul like a scalpel. He could not deny his brother's accusation and yet how much did the truth matter weighed against keeping Sam safe. What was a little betrayal to keep the ones he loved alive! He had let his Dad go to keep him safe, could he do any less for Sam?

Watching as the door started to close completely, Sam hung his head, murmuring, "I don't want a bodyguard, Dean. I want my brother. Why can't you see that?" The sound of the door clicking shut was like a spike through Sam's heart. Shaking himself free of his despair, he quickly worked to maneuver the paperclip across the carpet into his hands then deftly picked the handcuff.

Cursing his slowness, Sam burst out the door, bracing himself for the sight of the empty parking spot where the Impala had been. Shock went through him as he saw the Impala still in its parking spot. With his eyes scanning the parking lot below for sight of his brother, he turned right toward the stairs at a run.

"That was pretty slow, Sammy," came Dean's voice behind him, causing Sam to spin around, a big smile on his face.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed in joyous relief at the sight of his brother leaning nonchalantly on the wall to the left of their doorway. Quickly he crossed the distance between them.

Seeing the look in Sam's eyes, Dean abandoned his slouched position against the wall and warned, "You're not going to hug me or anything?"
"No," Sam growled before he fisted his hands into Dean's shirt and shoved Dean through the still open room door. Roughly, Sam pushed Dean onto the bed, eliciting a groan from Dean as his abused body impacted solidly with the uncompromising hardness of the mattress.

"Watch it, Sammy! I'm damaged goods right now," Dean scoffed, wincing as he sat up on the bed, clutching his burned arm.

"Damaged in the head you mean!" Sam insulted, standing over the seated Dean. "I can't believe you did that, you stupid jerk!"

"Sam …" Dean began but Sam never let him continue.

"Don't you ever listen to me?" Sam accused, his voice rising with his emotions. "I told you I'ld die for you! I told you I'ld do anything for you! What part of that made you think I'ld be anyplace but at your side if you were in danger!"

"Sam I knew you would want to help me…"

"Are you too proud to get my help? To let me protect you! You protected Dad by letting him go…" he broke off, light of understanding coming to his eyes as Dean dropped his gaze to the carpet. "And you were doing the same thing for me, weren't you?" Sam quietly realized, sinking down to sit beside Dean.

Silence fell between the brothers and Dean refused to be the one to break it. Or to make eye contact or to totally abandon his earlier plan devised to keep Sam safe. He almost flinched when Sam spoke.

"I told you about my visions," Sam stated firmly, without accusation… …so far. Looking to Dean's profile, he could read the comprehension in Dean's tightening features. "I told you about what happened at Max's place."

"Ah Sam," Dean whined, knowing the point his brother was making.

Leaning closer to Dean, Sam put the icing on the cake. "I confided in you about all that…that crazy, freaky, terrifying stuff because I trusted you."

"This is not about trust, Sam!" Dean objected, coming to his feet, unwilling to concede the issue.

"Yes, yes it is," Sam objected, his eyes flaring up to Dean's. "I've put my life, my sanity into your hands Dean so many times in so many ways…"

"Stop! Alright just stop!" Dean interrupted, his eyes blazed into Sam's a moment. Shaking his head, he ran a hand over his eyes before, with defeat, he dropped his hand and faced Sam's anxious look. "It's a curse, alright?" Dean could see the pulse jump in Sam's neck and he pressed on, trying for glibness. "A one day special each year, runs dawn to dusk, just for me."

Heart pounding in his chest, Sam demanded, "What kind of curse?"

"What do you mean what kinda curse?" Dean shot back, hoping to deflect his brother's line of questioning.

Steel was in Sam's retort. "Oh I don't know. Maybe between the 'you are going to have a crappy day' kind of curse or the 'you're going to die' kind of curse."

With dejection, Dean remembered that Sam always knew the right questions to ask. He remained silent a moment but he could see Sam gearing up to spout out the word trust again. "Both, kinda."

"Both?" Sam's voice soft, anticipating, encouraging, barely concealing his frustration.

"Yeah, both," Dean affirmed, stepping past Sam to stand at the foot of the beds. Uncomfortable as Sam maneuvered around to track his every move. "She wasn't specific."

"Who?" Sam's voice was cold enough to freeze Hawaii.

"Anna Corvante, little old lady in Hanestown, New Mexico. Boy was she pissed at me!" Dean reminisced, a smile of cocky victory on his face.

"Pissed enough to want you dead?"

"Absolutely," Dean answered almost proudly before he saw the worry cloud his brother's eyes. "Don't go all mushy on me Sam! She hasn't gotten her wish yet."

"What do you mean yet?" Sam demanded, coming to his feet to stand inches from Dean, anger spiking off of him.

"I don't mean yet…like today yet," Dean stammered, finding himself strangely intimidated by Sam's threatening anger. "I mean she made the curse two years ago, Sam!" Pulling on a smile he tapped his chest with his right hand, "And I'm still drawing breath."

Dean's words escalated Sam's worry instead of mollifying it. "So this happened last year, you getting hurt, having these accidents?" a note of reprimand creeping into his tone, leaving unsaid, 'and you didn't call and tell me this last year…or tell me today until I forced it out of you!'

Missing the reprimand in his brother's voice, Dean corrected, "Last two years. See, when they were dragging her butt off to throw her into a prison's psycho ward, she cursed me, said I would die on September 21st before the sun set. Me, I thought she meant the next September 21st but I survived that one and then last year, on freakin' September 21st…well, it dawned on me that she didn't say what year on September 21st I would die…guess she built in a loophole in her curse..musta been a lawyer in some past life or .."

Sam cut off Dean's ramble by wrapping a hand on his brother's arm and shooting out a direct question. "So for the past two years on September 21st, this curse has been hanging over your head?"

"Yeah, like a bad remake of Final Destination except without the John Denver music, thank God. I mean kill me, but don't torture me," Dean muttered as if this curse were some small annoyance, something to joke about rather than take seriously.

"Dean!" Sam sputtered. "We're talking about your life being in jeopardy!"

"And this is different from any other day, how?" Dean drawled. "Sam, hunting is a danger.."

"No!" Sam exclaimed, tightening his grip on Dean's arm unconsciously, "Don't you dare give me the "hunting is a dangerous gig" speech again!"

Dean shrugged. If Sam wanted to pretend to be blind to the truth, who was he to sear it into his brain. "Fine. What do you want me to say Sam?"

"Not that," Sam breathed, realizing for the first time that his grip on his brother had the potential to bruise. Letting his hand drop to his side, he offered, "So what's the worst that happened to you last year?"

Immediately, Dean dropped his eyes from Sam's. 'Give Sammy a cigar for again cutting to the heart of the matter! The jerk!'

Reading Dean wasn't easy, but some things were like neon signs, like the harbinger of doom. 'Like him not looking at me.' "Dean!" Sam insisted abruptly.

Snapping his head up, Dean answered bitterly, "I got hit by a car, happy?"

'Happy? Did he just say "happy"! As in, I'm overjoyed my brother was almost roadkill!' "Happy!" Sam choked out, his anger and fear turning the word into ice.

"I don't mean "happy"…I meant.." Dean backpedaled, not liking the amount of energy that was coming off of Sam.

Marshaling his overwrought emotions, Sam shook his head, gave that deadly small smile, "Let me get this straight. This woman put a curse on you..to die..on September 21st. And every September 21st since then you've been having "bad days" and you know this. And yet today, you've been just out there boldly strolling along like you're daring this curse to kill you. Were you this suicidal last year! I mean, if I thought the fates were out to kill me I think I would make a special effort to notice any cars coming my way!" As soon as the words were voiced, Sam felt appalled. How could he blame Dean for almost getting killed? But Sam, on some level, knew that his terror at the thought of Dean hurt, dying, always had a way of overwhelming his rational thought.
"Suicidal!" Dean venomously repeated in disbelief. "I was inside a freakin' gas station convenience store when the car hit me Sam! Excuse me for not seeing that coming!"

Sam forgot to breathe, his heart for an instant forgot to beat. His brother had almost been killed last year, that fact alone had the ability to shatter him. And then there was the indisputable proof of the strength, of the determination of the curse to kill Dean, to take away the person Sam loved, needed, believed in most in the world. Feeling off kilter, Sam sank back onto the bed, instantly Dean was crouched in front of him, concerned eyes searching Sam's.

"Sammy, you alright?"

"We have to break the curse!" Sam croaked out, desperately, his eyes lancing into Dean's green gaze.

"You don't break curses, Sam. You get out of their way, remember?" Dean gently reminded, sensing his brother's emotional edge. "Don't worry, the old crone isn't going to get her way."

"She's still alive, right? She can remove the curse!" Sam insisted.

"Yeah, and why would she do that Sam?" Dean sighed, taking a seat beside Sam on the bed, their eyes remaining on each other. "She is in the psycho ward of a prison. And I put her there."

"I don't understand. Why'd you get the cops involved?"

Dean gave a bitter laugh, "I guess sometimes just putting a curse on someone wasn't up close and personal enough for her. Before I could stop her, she stabbed this one guy to death, was intent on doing the same to me when the cops busted into her house."

Sam could hear the guilt in his brother's tone, read the self hatred in his eyes for not saving the man, for being too late, for being human. 'It probably doesn't even matter to him that he almost died trying to save a stranger, that I wouldn't think that was a fair tradeoff if he had died. But Dad, he would be sooo proud of Dean's self sacrificing attitude!' Sam bitterly concluded, suddenly forgetting the joy that he had felt seeing his father again in Chicago. 'And I wanted Dad to stay with us!. Wouldn't that have been just like old times. Him giving orders, Dean blindly following his orders…even if it would get him killed.'

Struck with the missing element in his brother's tale, Sam evenly inquired, "Where was Dad?" purposely forbidding censure to creep into his voice, desperate to avoid an argument with Dean.

"Not there," Dean simply said, but his tone made the prospect of learning further details off limits.

"So they arrested her and she cursed you," Sam reiterated aloud, turning his entire concentration on working out a solution.

"She cursed me with my blood on her hands, Sam," Dean provided firmly, watching the glimmer of hope die in Sam's eyes. There was truly nothing stronger than blood, especially to hold a curse together.

"There's got to be a way to get rid of this curse, Dean!" Sam reasoned, his frustration and need unveiled.

"I'm open to suggestions," Dean drawled.

Wracking his brain, Sam considered the easiest course. "Which prison is she in?"

"Sam she won't undo the curse," Dean argued, his voice rising to a level of frustration to match Sam's.

Looking anywhere but at Dean, Sam quietly spoke. "If a living person puts a curse on someone, the curse would die with them. Right?"

Whatever solution Dean thought Sam would conjured up, it was not that one. His voice gentle and non censorious, Dean said, "Like you told me, we don't kill human beings, Sam." Dean paused, saw the way Sam clamped his eyes shut, against his suggestion or against Dean's denial, Dean did not know. With his next words, Dean contradicted his prior words, his annoyance unmistakable, "And even if I wanted to waste the old broad, she's in PRISON Sammy. You know bars, guards, cameras. It's a little hard to do a black bag assassination in that environment."

The quiet words escaped Sam before he had time to even run them through the censor in his head. "You could have it done," forcing himself to meet Dean's shocked look, unwilling to recall the idea now that it was uttered.

For a moment Dean couldn't breathe, certainly couldn't talk. Then he surged from the bed, hands sweeping through the air evident to his high emotions. "Oh this is just great! Now you're talking about me paying off a fellow inmate to shank her! What the hell's wrong with you Sam!"

Coming to his feet, Sam stood toe to toe with his big brother. "I want you to live! Is that so horrible?"

"Marshall Hall already dead so that I could live, I'm not adding to the tally! Not even if it's some old murdering witch," Dean vowed, his stance and blazing eyes cementing his words.

"But you'd kill to save someone else? To save me, dad, a stranger!" Sam objected, hating his brother's self sacrificing antics that left him no room for thoughts of self preservation.

"It's my decision, Sam. And I've made it," Dean's low words severe, uncompromising, and final. Seeing the acquiescence in Sam's stance, Dean walked for the door. When Sam's hand latched onto his right arm, he stiffened at the touch to his burned skin.

Seeing Dean's flinch of pain, Sam immediately released his hold but closed the distance between him and Dean. "Alright, we let the woman alone. Now, let's focus on getting through today. Why don't we just hang out right here, safe and sound in this room?" bracing for Dean's harsh denials.

"It doesn't work that way, Sam! Haven't you been listening!" Dean exploded, suddenly fed up with the day's events…and it was still morning! "A car plowed into the interior of a convenience shop! There's no hiding from this!"

"Yes, but there are ways to cut down the risks to you!" Sam shot back, resolved to force some precaution into his brother, at least until this day was over.

"Sam.." Dean began but his cell phone's ring cut him off. Sighing, he flicked the phone open and answered it with a brisk "yeah." The reply was a high piercing burst of static that was so loud that Sam was wincing from his position a foot away. Dropping the phone, Dean clutched his ear, bowed his head and stumbled as his inner ear threatened to flake out.

Wrapping his hands around Dean's arms, Sam steadied Dean. "Dean! Are you alright!" he asked, bending down to look up into his brother's face. The phone's shrill static brutally came to an end a moment later as Sam angrily crushed the phone under his boot heel.

Dean thought he heard a voice but the ringing in his ear was too loud, too piercing, too adapt at making him want to crawl into a ball and cushion his head between his arms. When he was gently settled down to sit on the bed, it barely registered with Dean.

Helplessness swamped Sam as he crouched down before the now seated Dean, his one hand tenderly on Dean's bowed head and his other resting on his brother's knee, forgetting the injury to that part of his brother's body. Despair and fear were writhing through Sam. The phone had harshly proven his brother's point. There was no where for Dean to hide, no safe harbor to protect him from the gale of this storm. 'I'll protect him, I'll be his sanctuary,' Sam vowed, praying that it would be enough, that he would be strong enough to hold back the tide that threatened to take Dean away from him.

TBC

Thanks for reading and I would love to hear from you!

Cheryl W.