The interview with Madeline Reid's parents went well.
About as well as an interview with two mourning parents and a constantly shivering little brother could go anyways.
After Mrs. Reid asked Sam if he was alright for the third time, his little brother insisted that he was fine before quietly excusing himself, taking the keys Dean handed him, and going to sit in the Impala.
If there was anything Sam hated more than being ignored, it was being the center of attention.
Dean wrapped up the interview quickly before thanking the emotional couple for their time and making his way over to the car. He was pleasantly surprised to feel that the heat was on upon dropping in behind the wheel. He was surprised because Sam had been such a stubborn little bitch about taking care of himself and apparently now was putting in an effort. However, that content feeling quickly faded away to the worry that set in once he realized just how damn cold his little brother must be feeling if he was willingly doing something Dean would normally have to nag him to do.
"Did you learn anything?"
"You alright?" Dean questioned first, watching as fine tremors ran through the long frame.
"Fine. What did you learn?" The younger man repeated gruffly.
"Nothing they didn't tell you. They moved to town approximately two years ago, Madeline had a difficult time making friends, and she just started hanging out with a group of kids a week before her disappearance." He listed off, while backing out of the driveway.
Sam's forehead wrinkled as a pensive frown appeared on his face.
"And the police report pretty much backs up everything the parents said. The witnesses, or friends, dared the missing girl to go inside and then stuck around for a few hours only to realize that she wasn't coming out."
"Nobody went in after her?" His brother asked.
"No, they were all scared shitless. As far as they knew, everything they had thought was a myth was actually true. The cops searched the house a few hours later when Madeline's parents called to report her missing, but by that point the place was empty."
They drove in silence while Sam thought through the situation.
"Wait, her parents reported her missing?"
"Yes." Dean confirmed, clearly remembering reading that on the report.
"The kids she was with didn't call the cops when she never came out of the house?"
"I guess not." He shrugged. "They were probably too freaked out."
"Maybe." Sam said, sounding very much like he didn't believe that was the case.
"Why? What are you thinking?"
"I don't know. I guess it doesn't add up. This girl just starts making friends and all of the sudden she goes missing by doing something that those same friends dared her to do. And none of them call the cops after she disappears."
Dean considered what his brother was saying. "You think her friends had something to do with it?"
Sam cocked his head to the side. "I think they know more than they admitted to."
"Then I guess it's a good think that I jotted down the address of the one witness still living in this tiny town."
Sam's eyebrow quirked upwards. "You do realize I was the one who told you to write that down? After we realized the rest of the kids from a year ago had already graduated and gone off to post-secondary schools out of state."
"All I know is that the address of that one chick is written in my handwriting, Sam." Dean declared, a playful look on his face, knowing that he was getting the kid riled up.
"Dude, you wouldn't have even bothered taking it down if I hadn't told you to."
"But I did. I wrote it down."
"Yeah, cause I told you to!" Sam argued.
"Whatever makes you feel better, little brother."
"I would have written it myself if I could have."
"I'm sure you would have, Sam." Dean mocked with a smirk.
The young man huffed in irritation, glaring at his from the corner of his eyes, entirely unamused. Dean smiled at Sam's frustration, classic little brother, always so easy to aggravate.
They both searched for the street name that was scrawled out on the crumpled piece of paper resting on the dashboard.
"Your hands any better?" Dean asked as he squinted out at unfamiliar roads.
Sam shrugged. "I can move them again." He said, staring down at them and then muttering, "But they're still shaking."
Dean nodded his head knowingly. The kid's hands seemed to be in constant movement, but in this cold weather they were probably vibrating even more severely than the rest of him.
"I forgot." The soft words barely caught the driver's attention.
"You forgot what?" He asked, glancing down to see Sam's gloves securely wrapped around his trembling appendages and feeling in his pocket for his pain meds, noticing they were indeed there and wondering what could have been left behind.
"What it was like." Sam continued.
"What, what was like?" Dean inquired, keeping one eye on the road, but glancing to his right.
"The shivering. The inability to keep still. And the cold. The constant chill in my body that seems to go right down to my damn bones. California was…well it's been awhile since I've dealt with all this." As if to emphasize his frustrations, an exceptionally violent quake traveled through the young man's limbs.
Dean's jaw clenched in time with his hands around the steering wheel. He hated that his little brother had to deal with that and he hated that there was nothing he could do.
"We shouldn't have come here." He bit out.
Sam's eyes went wide for a moment as he tore his gaze from his hands and looked in his direction.
"It's not that bad, Dean. Really, I'm fine." He insisted, back-tracking pretty much everything he had just admitted to.
"Bullshit." He called, but he didn't even broach the topic of dropping the case because he knew that wouldn't be happening.
His kid was a stubborn little shit, he always had been.
Dean knew he wasn't going to be able to change Sam's mind, so he was just going to have to watch him like a hawk and keep him safe and healthy. Something he had a hell of a lot of practice with.
They made the rest of the drive in silence as Dean thought of everything he could do to keep the younger man warm, and Sam chewed on his bottom lip, likely regretting his recent confession.
"Here we are." He muttered, pulling up to a small house that matched the address of the only witness still residing in town.
Dean parked the Impala and climbed out, heading to the door, turning when he realized that there was no over-grown little brother shadowing him. He marched back to the car and opened the passenger door.
"You coming or what?" He asked, staring down at the shaggy head.
Sam shrugged.
"Dude, she won't even notice." Dean declared, realizing why the kid was being skittish.
The passenger looked up at him, skepticism shading his features.
"She won't, Sam. It's just some nineteen-year-old kid, she'll be too busy answering questions to notice your hands."
"Mrs. Reid noticed." He muttered.
"Yeah, because she's a mother who lost her only child a little over a year ago, she has missed mothering and you with your puppy-dog looks gave her the perfect opportunity to get back at it." He pointed out.
Sam sat, considering the information.
"Mr. Reid didn't notice shit." Dean added.
His brother gave a slight nod before climbing from the vehicle.
If Sam had wanted to stay in the car for the purpose of keeping warm that was one thing, but Dean wasn't about to let him spend the time sulking.
They made their way to the house together, Sam slouched behind his big brother, hiding the way he would when they were children. Dean smiled fondly at the recollection, and the knowledge that even years later he still had the ability to make his kid brother feel safe.
A young woman answered the door, she was blonde and pretty, the type of girl Dean would usually go for if his mind wasn't occupied with more important things…or people.
It was Rebecca Maslow, the one witness from over a year ago that remained in town. The nineteen-year-old didn't flinch when they introduced themselves as the state police, but the name 'Madeline Reid' elicited an entirely different response.
Rebecca tensed, her welcoming demeanor turning to one far more dismissive once they began to question her about what had occurred the previous year. No matter how they pried, the witness didn't give up any more information than was already written in the police reports. Her posture was stiff and her face angry as she gave simplistic one-word answers that were of little use. Sam and Dean could quickly tell that they weren't going to gather any new information from someone so hostile, and politely made their exit.
"Well that was weird." The older hunter observed aloud as they slid back into the Impala.
"Somethings not right." Sam stated, shaking his head as they pulled out of the driveway.
"You think?" Dean shot back sarcastically.
They made their way back onto the road and continued their drive in silence. Sam probably pondering the case, as Dean thought of more pressing matters, like where they would go to eat lunch; knowing his little brother wouldn't want to return to the diner he had been embarrassed at that morning. Dean had to find somewhere that would have food Sam would actually eat, because the kid had given Dean his breakfast, unable to eat it with numb hands. The older boy had offered to help him, but of course the stubborn brat had refused. Not that Dean could blame him, he doubted that he would want anyone spoon-feeding him.
Dean settled on a small deli located in the center of town.
Sam moseyed in and found them a table in the corner while Dean stood and ordered their meals. A large BLT sandwich for himself and a chicken sandwich for his little brother. He momentarily contemplated picking the health-freak up a salad as well, but he wasn't sure how aggressively his hands were shaking and had no desire to further Sam's degree of frustration with the uncooperative limbs by watching him fight with the lettuce.
Dean returned with their lunch, satisfied when Sam was able to take a bite of his meal with relative ease.
"I think they were in on it." He commented once he had finished chewing.
"Did you have the first part of that conversation in your head?" Dean queried, his mouth full of food as he spoke.
Sam scowled, either at the comment or the half-masticated sandwich he put on display, probably both.
"The kids that were with Madeline Reid. I think they had something to do with her disappearance."
"Like what?"
"I think they set her up. Got her killed somehow, maybe not intentionally. That's why they didn't call the cops, that's why Rebecca Maslow was so tense about the whole thing."
Dean chewed for a moment, his brain considering his brother's theory. "You think they did something that got her killed. And now her spirit is taking revenge?"
"Not necessarily revenge. The other people who have gone missing in that house have no relation to Madeline. I think her spirit is attached to that house and probably significantly pissed off-
"And taking out it's anger on whoever enters." Dean summed up thoughtfully.
"Exactly."
"I don't know, dude."
"It explains everything. Why the victims have nothing in common, why the disappearances don't have any pattern, and why people who entered that house have only started to go missing after Madeline's death a little over a year ago. You heard her parents, Dean. She was a loner, a shy, quiet kid without any friends. How likely is it that the moment she starts hanging out with a group of kids she vanished?" Sam asked, his voice hushed but as passionate as it always became whenever he had figured out the answer to a case.
"So, you think they set out to mess with her, maybe ended up getting her killed, and then covered the whole thing up?"
"Yeah."
"That's pretty dark."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure I buy the idea of teens pulling off shit that intense. I mean they killed a girl, intentionally or not, they killed her and then covered it up? I just don't think they'd be capable of that."
"Yeah, because teenagers are never that cruel, right?" Sam muttered.
The comment seemed as though it was meant to be sarcastic, but the sullen tone in which it was spoken gave it much more depth.
Dean glanced across the table to see that his little brother's face had fallen and his eyes held a darkness he had rarely seen before. The sight of them forced a memory on him, one that he had long fought to repress.
"Hey Sammy, you sure you don't want me to drive you over to your girlfriend's place?"
"For the hundredth time, Dean, she's not my girlfriend."
"Dude, I saw the way she was all over you when I picked you up from school, trust me, she's your girlfriend."
"It's not like that okay, we just have to do a project together, that's all."
"Well she's totally into you, so don't be surprised if she tries to jump you during your little geek session."
Sam rolled his eyes so dramatically Dean thought they might turn right over in his head.
"She doesn't even know me. I've been at that school for three weeks and she never even talked to me before today."
"Well it's only September, maybe it took her some time to work up the courage." Dean pointed out.
Sam released an exasperated huff, as if his big brother had just suggested the most absurd thing on the planet.
"She's in with the cool kids, that's why she's never spoken to me before."
"C'mon, Sammy. You're pretty cool, I mean other than the fact you look like a puppy dog." Dean commented, ruffling the teen's long locks.
Sam swatted him away, ducking out of his reach.
"I'm the new kid, Dean."
"The school year just started, everyone is the new kid."
"No, not in this town. They have all been going to school together since grade one." Sam snorted.
"Well maybe this chick is just happy to see a fresh face on her senior year."
His brother shook his head dismissively. "We are just doing a project. Trust me, she's not into me."
"Someone should tell her that." Dean quipped, winking at his brother. He grinned at the way the little dork blushed before looking away.
"Besides, she's got a boyfriend and he's on the football team and stuff."
"Pfft, you could take him."
Because Sam could.
The kid may have been an extremely reluctant hunter, but he was fucking amazing at it. He was a lanky thing, much thinner than Dean was comfortable with, but he was strong when he wanted to be. His strength added to his massive geek brain, made him one hell of a hunter and a complete force of nature.
Dean knew as wiry as he was, Sam could take some teenaged football player, he had faced much more frightening opponents in his life and won.
Then again, the kid wasn't quite at the top of his game, he was recovering from three busted ribs, and though they were healing nicely, the slight hunch of his shoulders and his slow careful gait told Dean that his brother was still feeling some pain.
Not that the little bitch would admit to it. But it was the reason the older boy didn't wanted him walking all the way across town.
"So, you want me to take you over?" He questioned, making his way back to his original inquiry.
"No, it's fine. Her place isn't that far."
"It's across town."
"It's a small town." Sam stated, failing to hide a wince as he came to a stand.
"Come on, buddy. I can tell you're still hurting."
Sam sent him a soft smile as he collected his school books. "I'm fine. Nothing I haven't dealt with before."
Dean hated how true that was. Hated that his kid brother was familiar with the pain of healing ribs.
How fucked up was that?
"You want to take the Impala?" He offered sincerely, thinking maybe the thrill of driving his baby would sway the teen away from walking the distance.
Sam looked up at him, eyes comically wide as he stared in shock. "What? You never offer to let me take the car."
"I do...sometimes." Dean muttered, knowing that wasn't entirely true.
The Impala was his baby and he was more than a little possessive of her, but he really didn't want his brother to hurt more than he knew he already was; so if offering up his prized possession could help the kid in some way, than he would do it without a second thought.
"You don't. Ever. But I'm good. Thanks anyways." Sammy smiled, his dimples showing as he shrugged into his jacket.
That was the other reason Dean didn't want him walking. It was September in Tennessee and even though it wasn't very cold, there was still a cool wind in the air. The slightest chill and little brothers prone to hypothermia and frostbite, really didn't mix.
"You sure?" He inquired, hoping the Sam would change his mind.
"Yup. Besides, don't you need the car? I thought you had a date tonight."
"Yeah, but we are just going to dinner." Dean stated with a shrug, knowing the center of town was closer to the motel than the house where Sam was headed.
"But don't you want to impress your date with the Impala." His brother suggested with a smirk, knowing him all too well.
"Hey man, all I need to impress her is my looks. You need all the help you can get to impress your new girlfriend." He snickered.
"She's not my girlfriend." Sam grumbled, heading for the door.
"Hey, Sam-
"No, I don't need a ride." He cut him off, stepping out of the room.
"Sam-
"I'll be back in a couple hours, way before you probably." He continued, pulling the door closed behind him.
"Sam-
"I'm already wearing my jacket and I have my gloves in my pocket, I will put them on if I get cold."
"Sam!" Dean shouted.
His brother poked his head back around the nearly closed door and looked over at him, eyebrows raised in curiosity, no doubt wondering what could possibly be left to say.
"Don't forget to use protection." Dean announced with a shit-eating grin and a waggle of his eyebrows.
"You're disgusting." The teen's face turning a bright shade of red as he slammed the door behind him.
Dean chuckled to himself as he got ready to hop in the shower. He loved how easy it was to make his little brother feel uncomfortable.
After nearly an hour of wasting time it was finally nine pm and time for him to go meet - Carrie? Katie? Cathy?- the attractive young woman he met at the bar a few nights ago.
He sent Sam a text on his way out the door, telling him that he was heading out, the two of them often keeping each other in the loop about their movements. Something they had grown up accustomed to doing, both as hunters and as brothers often left to look out for each other.
Dean was about to shut the motel room door when he heard a buzzing sound. He recognized it instantly as a phone vibrating on a hard surface. He looked back into the room, scanning it quickly before spotting his little brother's cell phone on the small kitchen table.
"Sammy." He sighed, grabbing the cellular device, flipping it open to see a text received from 'De'. He felt a fond smile pulling at his lips as he shook his head in attempted exasperation and pocketed the phone. He would drop it off at that chic's house before going to meet his date. Sam had told him the address and luckily, the older boy had the sense to remember it. Dean might be a few minutes late meeting - Cassie? Cindy? Suzy? - whatshername, but he knew if he wasn't positive that his brother had the ability to contact him, he wouldn't be able to focus on his date, regardless of how hot she was.
Sam and Dean were spending more time apart now than they ever had before. Now that Sam was older and independent, well he had always been independent, but now that he was grown and could do things on his own, they were not attached at the hip like they used to be. Dean wasn't thrilled about it, but he had to allow it, had to give Sam his freedom. However, now that they were spending time apart, staying in contact was that much more important. Both of them always made a point to keep each other updated on their location as well as always answering the phone when the other called. No matter how pissed his little brother was at him or their father or their life in general, he always answered the phone when Dean called. Sam understood the horror scenes that would play on repeat in his big brother's mind if he didn't know where the kid was, just as they did in Sam's when he wasn't aware of Dean's location. They didn't put each other through that kind of distress, so they always answered their phones, that is, when they remembered to have them on their person.
Dean was nearing the outskirts of the small town, slowing the Impala as he searched for the place Sam had told him he would be at. It was dark, so it was difficult to see the house numbers as he cruised slowly up the dirt road. Dean was squinting out the window, searching for the destination and cursing the complete lack of streetlights when he spotted a lanky kid walking up the opposite side of the road.
Even in the darkest of nights there was no way he wouldn't recognize those thin limbs and that shaggy head.
Sammy.
Dean stopped the car, not even bothering to pull it off to the side because the road wasn't wide enough and the Impala was the only vehicle on it.
He was about to holler out the window at his little brother, before he realized that the kid hadn't seemed to notice him.
How did he not hear the Impala's engine? Or see the only pair of headlights illuminating the road?
Dean opted for exiting the vehicle and jogging across the street.
"Sammy." He called out, placing his hand on the boney shoulder and just barely ducking the fist that came flying towards his face. "Whoah. Buddy, it's me. Just me!" He defended, hands up as he took a step out of Sam's long reach.
His brother's body remained in fight mode for an extra couple seconds as his weary gaze looked him over.
"Dean." He sighed in what could only be explained as relief, the tension leaving his limbs.
"Yeah, kiddo. You didn't hear me? Or the car?"
Sam shook his head, and only then did Dean realize the over-grown brown locks were sopping wet, as was the rest of his kid.
"What the hell? Why are you drenched? Where the hell is your coat?"
The teen looked down at himself, as though he were just noticing his missing jacket and wet clothing. Dean followed his gaze and also realized that there were no shoes on the long feet, just socks that looked about as soaked as the rest of him.
"What happened?" He asked, trying for a simpler question this time.
Sam's eyes found the green ones for a moment, those hazel orbs drowning in misery as the younger boy opened and closed his mouth a couple times before seemingly giving up and dropping is gaze. Dean was about to make a dozen other inquiries, but just as he opened his mouth he watched a violent shiver tear its way through the thin frame. Of course the kid was cold. He was soaked to the bone. There was only a cool breeze in the air, but with Sam's medical history, it must have felt downright frigid. And while Dean was extremely eager to get some answers out of his little brother, taking care of him always came first.
"Alright. Conversation later. Warmth now."
He ushered his unresponsive little brother into the Impala. He grabbed the old worn blanket from the back seat and spread it over Sam's long frame, frowning as the teen's hands trembled too severely to hold the fabric around himself. Dean gently grasped hold of them, grimacing at the chilled skin, but satisfied that his inspection of the cold appendages revealed no discolouration.
He wanted to ask Sam where the hell his gloves had ended up, but he figured they were probably in the same place as his coat, shoes, and schoolbooks.
However, there was one question that he really needed an immediate answer to.
"Sammy." He waited for the puppy dog eyes to find his before continuing. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
His brother sat silently, squinting up at Dean from his seated position as though he were unsure of the answer.
"I need to know if you are injured, kiddo. Just tell him that much, okay? Does anything hurt?"
The young man silently shivered for another moment before replying. "Just my ribs." He rasped.
Dean crouched down outside of the car next to the passenger seat and gently tugged his little brother's shirt up, offering a soft apology as Sam's shivering became more severe with the cold air making direct contact with the wet skin. Dean felt gently along his kid's ribcage, paying close attention to the three ribs that had been recovering from previous damage. One of them shifted at his touch, eliciting a sharp inhale from Sam.
"Sorry." Dean apologized, scowling at the re-damaged bone as he let the teen's clothing fall back into place and wrapped the blanket more securely around the trembling frame. He closed the passenger door and quickly made his way around the Impala, just barely dropping into the driver's seat before blasting the heat.
The ride back to the motel was made in silence, save the sound of Dean's cell-phone going off. He didn't bother answering it, he knew it was - Kenzie? Kelly? Christy? - the girl he was supposed to meet tonight.
Once they arrived back at the room Sam must have been at least a fraction warmer, that or he was simply more coherent than before, because he got out of the car and made his way inside all on his own without any aid or prompting.
"Get out of those wet clothes and get dry." Dean instructed.
Sam nodded, refusing to meet his big brother's gaze as he grabbed some dry sweats and headed for the bathroom.
Dean turned the heat up in the room and then dumped some pain meds into his hand, setting them on the table next to a glass of water. Ideally, he would want to place ice on Sam's injured ribs, but he knew that wasn't an option with how cold he was.
His brother exited the washroom a few short moments later, clad in sweatpants with his hair still damp as he held his sweater in his hand.
"I need help." He muttered.
"With what?" Dean asked, just glad that the kid was talking as he made his way over to him.
"Can't get it on, hurts to lift my arms." Sam explained softly.
"Alright, I've got you covered." He assured, taking the sweater and herding the teen into the kitchen chair. Dean slipped the neck of the clothing over the shaggy head and maneuvered the skinny arms into the sleeves without causing Sam any pain.
"There." He said, handing him a couple of pills and the glass of water.
The teen took them willingly and than proceeded to stare at the tabletop as though it held all the answers to life.
Dean snagged the comforter off his bed and wrapped it around the still-shivering body, concerned by the lack of response he received. He would have preferred it if Sam had brushed him off in petulant irritation than have him not react at all.
He made two cups of coffee, knowing that the warmth from the mug would warm his brother's hands and the liquid inside it would help to take the chill out of the rest of him. He allowed Sam to take several sips of the steaming beverage, content to see the shivers become less and less severe with each swallow. Once he noticed the kid was finally much warmer than he had been and was out of any sort of danger, he moved his chair closer and began his line of questioning.
"So, you want to tell me how you ended up soaking wet wandering up a dirt road in the dark, when you were supposed to be doing a project at some chick's house?" He asked.
Sam looked up, his eyes meeting Dean's for a fleeting second before they returned to the ever-so-fascinating tabletop.
"Not really." He mumbled.
"Well too bad."
Dean waited for his brother to speak, both of them hearing his cell-phone go off for what must have been the fourth time.
"You should really answer that." Sam said.
"It can wait until after I find out what the hell went on tonight." He dismissed, not giving his brother the distraction he was hoping for.
Sam released a tired sigh before speaking.
"Okay, but you have to promise not to hurt anyone."
Dean raised an eyebrow. First of all, he didn't like the way that comment was setting up the rest of the story, and second of all, that was not a promise he could ever make.
"You know I can't."
"Yeah, you can. And you will, or I'm not telling you what happened."
Dean growled at the challenging teenage tone, partially relieved that his brother was beginning to act like his stubborn/argumentative self again, but mostly annoyed with the defiant behavior.
"I can't promise anything until I know what happened." He reasoned.
"You can. I'm not hurt-
"Sam, your rib is busted, again!"
"That was my own doing. Now, promise."
Dean glared at the teen. The stubborn little bitch wasn't going to let this go. So, he offered up what he considered to be a very reasonable compromise.
"How about I promise not to kill anyone?"
A small smirk pulled at the teen's lips.
"Or seriously injure." He added.
Dean scowled, not appreciating how restrictive this was getting, but reluctantly nodded his head, knowing that Sam wouldn't let him have it his way.
"Deal." He promised.
The teen nodded in satisfaction, taking another sip of coffee, his hands shaking so hard that the hot liquid nearly spilled all over him. Before he could make a comment to express his concern, Sam began to speak.
"I was walking over to Lori's, she's my partner for the project."
Dean nodded, because he knew that much.
"When I got there, there were a bunch of guys from school on her front porch. I tried to ignore them, but they kept bothering me."
"Bothering you how?" Dean questioned, trying to keep the rising anger from his tone.
Sam shrugged at that, clearly not wanting to answer.
"Sammy, be straight with me dude, c'mon now." He encouraged
"Just calling me names, the same names they call me at school."
"They've been bothering you at school?" Dean queried through clenched teeth, aggravated for the millionth time that Sam and he weren't closer in age. He hated not being able to keep an eye on the kid in school, or more accurately, keep an eye on the douche bags that seem to always go after him in school.
"Yeah sort of. It started off as just classic new kid stuff. Calling me newbie and picking on me about stupid shit, but then, well, one day my hands were kind of shaking, because the school still had the air conditioning on and it was really cold in the building. Anyways, they sort of noticed and they started calling me jitters" Sam nearly whispered the nickname, but Dean could still hear the disdain for it clearly in his voice and see the dark look in his eyes.
A dark look he had very rarely seen before.
Dean's muscles clenched as he tensed in anger. Wasn't it bad enough that Sam had to deal with constantly cold hands? Did a bunch of jackasses really have to make it worse? Did they have to give him some fucking nickname to make him even more self-conscious?
"Stop grinding your teeth, Dean." His brother ordered. "You're going to mess them up."
Dean rolled his eyes, but made an effort to relax. "They were calling you names when you got to the house?" He prompted, moving the story along, as he mentally cataloged all the reasons to rip the lungs out of each bastard that had picked on his kid brother.
"Yeah. I think they were just trying to start something, so I told them to back off."
Contrary to what their father believed, Sam had always had an amazing amount of self-control, he had a hell of a lot more than Dena or John did, that was for sure.
"Jeff, that's Lori's boyfriend."
"The football player?"
"Yeah. He said that Lori was around back. I didn't believe him until I heard her scream."
"Wait, Lori screamed?"
"Yes. So, I ran around back and she was sort of standing at the edge of the grass looking out at the lake."
"Lake?"
"There's a lake behind her house. It's pretty wide, and it runs along the entire country road, about fifteen acres."
Dean nodded at the information.
"So, she's standing there screaming and she's pointing out into the water and when I got there she told me that her dog had been swimming out there and was drowning. I looked out, it was pretty dark already, but I could see something the size and shape of an animal floating in the water..." Sam faded off, clearly hesitating to explain what happened next.
"Then you jumped in after it." Dean added, knowing full well what his little brother would do in that situation.
Sam twitched a smile before continuing. "Yeah, I did. I took off my shoes and my coat and dove in after it. I swam about half-way out before I reached it, which is when I realized that it wasn't a dog."
The young man took another sip of coffee, his eyes focused on the cup as he proceeded to speak.
"It was a raccoon, or the carcass of one anyway. As soon as I noticed I looked back over to where Lori had been and saw her and the other guys standing there laughing."
Furry was coursing through Dean's veins, the broken tone in his little brother's voice enough to send him over the edge. Sam didn't seem to notice as he gazed miserably down at his hands.
"I watched them grab my coat and shoes and run off. I figure they just ran into Lori's house because once I swam back to land I couldn't see them anywhere. By the time I got out of the water I was so cold that I didn't bother trying to get them back. I didn't even bother picking my schoolbooks up off the porch." He admitted quietly.
They both sat in silence for another moment, Sam rubbing discreetly at his eyes as Dean struggled to control the rage rushing through his body.
"Those bastards!" He cursed vehemently.
"Dean, relax. It was just a stupid joke." The teen placated.
"No, it wasn't Sam. They could have gotten you killed." He seethed.
"It' wasn't that bad."
"It was! You could have drowned, and if you had walked all the way back across town you probably would have ended up with hypothermia, not to mention what could have happened to your hands."
Sam rolled his eyes, indicating clearly that he felt his big brother was over-reacting.
Dean took a breath to calm himself.
"Call it what you want, Sam, but it sure as hell wasn't a fucking joke." He surmised.
The teen nodded in miserable agreement.
"How'd you hurt your rib?" Dean ground out, needing to know what else to add to his mental list of reasons to slaughter all those sonsofbitches.
Sam cleared his throat, wiping one more time at his moisture filled eyes before responding. "I uh, I tripped when I was getting out of the water. It was so muddy and there was nothing to grab onto and I was shaking so hard. The water was so cold, I- I tripped getting out and slammed down onto some rocks."
Dean nodded in understanding, that matched the fresh bruise he had seen forming on the slender torso.
His anger escalated as he stared at Sammy's defeated appearance. The teen's shoulders were hunched, eyes downcast, as his wet hair curtained his face. His hands were still shaking and he continued to shiver, which was no doubt reeking havoc on his re-broken rib.
Dean needed to get him warmed up even more and horizontal so he wouldn't be in so much pain, hopefully the pills would kick in soon as well and knock him right out.
"Come on, kiddo, let's get you laying down." He suggested, his mind still storming with violence, but his touch gentle as he helped Sam from his chair and guided him to the bed.
His brother was compliant as he carefully pushed him down onto the mattress. He got Sam horizontal, propping him up on pillows to ease any sort of discomfort. The teenager sighed tiredly as he rested his head back and got himself situated. Dean was about to cover him up with both sets of blankets when he noticed his bare feet. He moved to his duffel and grabbed the warmest pair of soaks, pulling them over the icicle feet.
"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam whispered.
Dean looked up from what he was doing, eyes wide with alarm. "What for?"
"For losing my jacket and shoes, and those were new gloves. I know you paid a lot for them. I shouldn't have-
"Stop right there!" Dean snapped, glaring over at the young man who was surprised by his outburst.
"I don't care about the jacket or your shoes or the damn gloves okay? And don't you dare apologize for what those scumbags did!" He ordered.
"But I was stupid, I shouldn't have-
"You did the right thing, Sammy." He declared assuredly, slipping the second sock over his brother's foot before tugging the blankets over top of him and coming to stand at his bedside. "You thought some girl's pet was drowning and you jumped into action to help her. You couldn't have possibly known what those assholes were up to."
"Yeah, but after I should have gone to the house to try and get my stuff back." Sam insisted.
"No way. You were hurt and freezing, the last thing you needed to do was get into a fight. Besides, I doubt those little chicken-shits would have even come out of the house."
His little brother looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding his head. "Okay." Sam whispered softly, the pain meds clearly taking effect as his eyes began to droop closed.
"Get some sleep." Dean instructed, patting his brother gently on the chest before making to move away. He stopped as cool bony fingers snagged his wrist, and he turned back to Sam.
"How'd you find me?" The teen asked, his voice laced with exhaustion, but his eyes refusing to close.
"You left your cell here, I was going to bring it to you."
For some reason that made Sam smile, maybe it was just the drugs in his system, but either way the sight of those damn dimples eased the rage that had been tearing through the older boy's mind.
The sound of his phone going off echoed through the small room.
"She's going to keep calling. Answer your bloody phone." Sam grumbled.
"You'd think by now she would have figured out I'm not going to show." He pointed out.
"You could still go if you want." Sam offered, forcing his eyes wide so they wouldn't fall closed on him, like they were clearly trying to.
Dean laughed in disbelief at his suggestion. "And leave you all on your own, Mr. Trouble-Magnet? I don't think so."
"I'm not a trouble magnet." Sam slurred in defense, his face screwing up the way it did whenever he had been insulted as a child.
"Sure, you aren't, Sammy." He snickered, as he carded his fingers through his brother's slightly damp hair, sweeping the bangs off the pale forehead like he had done a million times before.
"It's Sam." The younger boy corrected softly, his eyelids fluttering as he stubbornly tried to keep them open.
"Whatever you say." Dean smirked.
"That's right. I'm the boss." The teen murmured.
"Of course you are. Now get some sleep, little brother." He ordered lightly, smiling down fondly at the kid who had always fought sleep with everything he had.
It was nice to know that somethings never changed.
Sam's eyes fell shut as he sighed, but this time the sound was content and not broken or exhausted.
"Thanks for coming for me, Dean." He breathed out, squeezing his brother's wrist before lettings his hand fall back down onto the bed.
"I always will, Sammy." Dean promised, tucking the lanky arm under the covers and grinning at the content look on the young face.
Dean didn't understand how anyone could be so cruel to someone so kind. How could you pick on someone who would risk his own well-being to save a damn puppy? How could you bully someone who could easily kick your ass, but chose not to because he was better than that? How could a bunch of douche-bag teenagers treat his little brother like total shit, when all he wanted was to be a normal kid?
How could they make fun of him for having shaky hands? Wasn't it bad enough that Sam wasn't able to control his body temperature or his damaged hands? Did they have to make him feel like he was a freak as well?
They would all regret the day they decided to treat Sam like shit.
Anyone who treated Dean's selfless little brother with anything but kindness, needed to be taught a lesson.
And Dean would spend the rest of his life teaching that lesson if he had to.
"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to- I shouldn't have said that."
Dean was pulled out of his recollection from years ago, by Sam's apology.
"What the hell are you talking about?" He questioned, biting into the sandwich he had been neglecting.
"I shouldn't have brought that up." Sam muttered.
"Brought what up?"
"You don't think I know what you were thinking about?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
Dean shrugged, not bothering to deny the truth.
"You proved your point. It was naive of me to suggest that teenagers aren't capable of some seriously cruel crap."
Sam gave a hesitant nod. "So, what now?"
"Well we have a theory, I don't think they are going to learn anymore through research. We best just go check out the house tonight." he reasoned.
Sam nodded in agreement, finally taking a second bite of his lunch, chewing with a thoughtful expression on his face and swallowing before he spoke again. "I know that you kicked their asses."
Dean knew what the younger man was referring to and was unable to hide his smirk.
"When I went back to school they were scared shit-less of me, not to mention all those guys were sporting some pretty colourful bruises." Sam recalled with an amused smirk.
"Karma's a bitch." Dean quipped.
Sam chuckled at that, rolling his eyes. "What I can't figure out is what you did to Lori, because I know you didn't hit her."
Dean would be lying if he said that he didn't love how his little brother never questioned the possibility of him ever crossing certain lines. Though there were times he had been tempted to do just that.
"No, I just had a talk with her." He answered vaguely.
Sam studied him, looking for clues he wasn't going to find, before giving up with a huff.
"I could have taken care of them, you know." He stated, a dimply smile on his face as he proceeded to stare across the table.
"Yeah, I know, but you didn't have to." Dean replied simply.
Sam's face went from entertained to appreciative as he grinned, his eyes shining with the emotion that always made his big brother's throat clench up.
Love.
"Thanks for that." The younger boy declared softly and sincerely.
Dean grunted in response, feeling uncomfortable with the chick-flick moment they had created.
Sam roughly kicked his leg under the table, grinning when Dean nearly coughed on his sandwich in surprise, while he dug into his own meal. Dean watched the young man eating, content that he was finally getting some food in him and that his body was cooperating, for the moment.
Dean hated how his little brother's own body was often out of his control. He hated that he had to deal with the repercussions of his older brother's and his father's failures. He hated that people treated the kid differently because of it.
But he had vowed to himself a long time ago that he would look out for Sam. And that meant doing everything he could to protect him, to keep him safe and healthy. Whether that involved fighting against Sam's stupid independent streak, fighting with their father, fighting the weather, or fighting any and all of the scumbags who mistreated his kid brother.
He would fight everyone and everything for Sammy.