This story is for a Tumblr Anon who requested a story involving Dean getting kidnapped and Sam and John having to find him.

This fic is set during Season 1 in a kind of AU. I hope it's okay; I'm not very good at writing John (and haven't done so in years) so I hope he doesn't come off as too OOC.


Blood Ties

A Supernatural Fanfic

Sam paced the motel room, biting his fingernails to the quick. In his other hand he clutched his phone, but the calls had stopped coming in yesterday. Not that there had been any useful information anyway. Most of them had been to inform him that they'd heard nothing. He had run out of contacts he could get in touch with. No one was going to help him find his brother.

Sam sank down on the end of the bed, fingers still pressed against his mouth.

Dean had been missing for three days. He'd gone out to get food and never came back. Sam had torn this town apart looking for his brother, but there had been no trace of him. He'd just…disappeared.

The events leading up to his disappearance were engrained in Sam's brain as he constantly went over them, wondering if there was something he might have missed. They hadn't even been in the middle of a hunt, they'd been getting some rest between jobs, recovering from a couple minor injuries. They'd fully intended to stay in this town only one night but Dean had disappeared and now Sam was alone, with no idea how he was going to find his brother.

The part that he agonized over the most was that he hadn't even thought about Dean's disappearance at first. Because Sam had been stupid enough to get into a fight with him over looking for Dad, yet again, and when Dean said he was going out and didn't take the car, Sam fully expected him to walk around town for a while to cool off then come back later with dinner like he usually did. And then he hadn't. And Sam called him again and again, leaving message after message.

"Look, I know you're pissed at me, but at least let me know when you plan on coming back. Or at least where to come pick your drunk ass up in the morning."

He'd still been mad when he sent that message, a little worried too, but it also wasn't unfathomable for Dean to simply end up at a bar and go home with some girl for the night, forgetting that Sam might be worried—or doing it to spite him.

But the fact of the matter was that Dean always came back eventually. He didn't stay mad long, especially at Sam. That just wasn't how Dean worked. While he might have sulked over a couple drinks, he would have come back to the motel before midnight with apology food and they would hopefully have a more civil discussion about finding Dad, or not mention it at all until the next day.

There had been no next day, though. Or the day after. And now on the third day of Dean being gone, Sam was beginning to wonder if he would ever find his brother alive again.

He chewed his lip as he glanced down at his phone. He'd literally done everything he could, even scoured the town and surroundings, looking into missing persons or weird deaths in the area. He'd come up with nothing. There was nothing in this town to account for Dean missing, and Sam was growing more and more desperate by the day, knowing that Dean's time was running out.

There was only one person Sam hadn't bothered calling. Because it never did any good. And yet…

He took a shuddering breath and flipped through his contacts until the name was highlighted.

What would be the point, really? Sam wondered bitterly. He hadn't even so much as answered Sam's calls when Dean was dying last time before the reaper case, or when Sam had been taken by the Benders. There was no reason for him to show up now.

And yet…

Sam selected the name and dialed before he lost his nerve. He didn't breathe while he listened to the ringtone, hoping that maybe…

But no, it was just the message recording. However, he'd already gone this far so he may as well go all the way.

"Hey, Dad, it's Sam," he forced out, swallowing hard. "Look, Dean's gone missing and I have no idea where he is. I could really use some help…"


It was always dark in the room. Dean couldn't tell what time of day it was as there were no windows—probably a basement, he had figured. They did usually come at what seemed to be basic intervals, leaving him a few hours to wallow or sleep at he pleased. He'd had no way of knowing how many days he'd spent here. Just how many times he'd been beaten and fed on.

It was vampires. He hadn't been sure at first, hadn't even really believed it. He'd heard plenty of stories about them from other hunters but hadn't actually seen one himself. That was until he got approached at the bar by a very hot woman who insisted on buying him a drink. And proceeded to slip something into it. He vaguely remembered stumbling outside and then the next thing he knew was waking up in the back of a blacked-out van, driving somewhere in the middle of the night, no clue how long he'd been out or where they were even going.

They'd been ecstatic when they'd realized they'd caught a hunter, and took great joy putting Dean in his place, chaining him in the basement, opening cuts on his body to drink the blood if they didn't just sink their teeth in.

It left him weak and hurting, the blood loss taking its toll. He still tried to get free of the manacles though, worked a little on it every time they left. He might be able to get one of the loops in the wall free if he tried hard enough, but what would he do then? Maybe if he was lucky he could catch them while they were asleep, make a break for it in the sunlight, but again, he had no way to tell what time it was. They'd made sure to take his watch, probably for that reason. There were at least five vampires in the nest. Even Dean wasn't stupid enough to think that he could take on all of them and survive especially in his current condition.

He wondered often what Sam was doing. Sammy, who he had been pissed at before all this. Honestly, he couldn't even remember why they'd started up an argument about Dad again, probably just because they were both tired. He was sure Sam knew he was missing by now. He wondered wryly whether his brother would find him before he was anything but a husk. The last thing he wanted was Sam to track him down, only to be captured as well. The only thing that would make this worse was the thought of his baby brother going through it as well.

Dean was startled out of his dark thoughts as the door above creaked open and footsteps sounded down the creaky stairs.

"How is our personal buffet tonight?"

Dean sighed and slumped back as he heard the voice. Victor, this bastard's name was. He had a particularly sadistic streak. Most of the other vampires would be satisfied with simply drinking his blood, but Victor enjoyed toying with him.

"Poor little hunter," the vampire sneered as he licked his lips, pulling a knife out of a sheath on his belt. "Sucks to become the hunted, doesn't it? Now let's see how nice you scream for me tonight, huh?"

Dean almost snapped out a 'bite me' before he remembered the irony and settled for simply glaring at the vampire.

Victor grinned and his teeth elongated, glistening with saliva. "We'll see how long it takes you to break, Deano. I guarantee no one's coming for you, so we can take as long as we'd like."

Dean braced himself as the vampire stepped up to him, raising the knife, the blade shining in the faint light from the open door above as he crouched down and Dean resigned himself to what was coming.


Sam dug the key for his motel room out of his pocket, a bag of food dangling in his other hand. Yet another long day of looking for Dean with no luck. The whole thing was beginning to weigh on Sam heavily but he refused to give in to the nagging despair.

He reached to put the key in the lock, but found the door already slightly open.

A mixture between alert fear and anxious anticipation—because it could be Dean something in the back of his mind said—rushed through him as he grabbed for his gun and cautiously pushed open the door, stepping inside.

The room was dark as he'd left it, but some instinct told him there was another presence nearby.

He whipped around, gun raised, as a dark figure stepped out from behind the door, automatically catching his wrist and directing the gun away.

"Easy, Sammy. Don't want to shoot your old man, do you?"

The voice stopped him dead in his tracks, staring in disbelief as the figure stepped out of the shadows and revealed himself.

"Dad?" Sam breathed, not quite able to believe what he was seeing.

"Hey, Sam." There was a small smile on John's face, a bit sad, maybe, but genuine. "It's been a while."

"I didn't think you'd come," Sam said and before he could stop himself, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his dad in honest relief. It was like everything, all the resentment that he'd held, just flew away in those moments as John hugged him back firmly.

"I wasn't far," John said as they finally pulled away. "And if Dean's gone missing, I have an idea of what might have taken him."

Sam gave a shuddering breath, swallowing against the lump in his throat, relief that he was no longer alone in this welling up inside of him. "Yeah? What?"

John looked at him firmly. "You seen any vampires in the area recently?"

Sam stared at him. "Vampires…I thought they didn't exist anymore."

"Yeah, that's not entirely the truth," John said wryly. "Come on. Why don't we sit down and you tell me everything that happened? Then we'll figure out how to find your brother."


Dean dragged his head up as he heard the door creak open above him again. His shoulders ached from the strain his position put on them, hands numb where they were manacled just above his head. On top of that, the pain from Victor's last torture session and the dragging feeling of blood loss were making him feel slightly sick. He groaned as the footsteps creaked down the stairs into the basement. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was another vampire feeding session.

"Still alive? How are you feeling?" came the mocking female voice.

Dean looked up to see the nicely curved silhouette. Loretta. The one who'd picked him up at the bar.

"Not like it's any of your business, sweetheart," he grunted.

She gave a light laugh and swiftly crouched beside him, gripping his chin and raising his face. "Honestly you've lasted longer than I expected. At least hunters are strong." She wrenched his head to one side, exposing his neck. Dean cringed as she leaned in close, running her tongue over the healing bitemarks already there.

"You know, I usually don't do this until the second date," Dean snarked.

Loretta laughed. "Well, I'm afraid you'll just have to make an exception with little old me."

He felt the sickening pull of her teeth entering his neck and kicked out.

Loretta caught his leg and twisted, making Dean howl as he felt something in his knee pop.

"And here I thought Victor had beaten all the fight out of you," she snarled before straddling his lap and pinning him against the wall, griping his jaw as she sunk her fangs into his neck again.

Dean could feel the throb in his knee dull as his eyes rolled back in his head, the fuzziness of unconsciousness pulling at him as yet more of his blood was drained away. His heart stuttered, and he was afraid that this was it, this was the last feeding they would get out of him. That he was going to die here in this dirty basement with a vampire's fangs still in his neck. Just another victim to add to the pool of victims he tried to prevent every day.

But Loretta pulled away just before he fully lost consciousness, licking her lips as her fangs disappeared. She patted Dean's cheek as she stood up.

"Good boy. If you can hold out a little longer we might all be able to get another feeding out of you."

Dean slumped in his manacles, a slow trickle of blood leaking down his throat. He was surprised he had that much left.

He wanted to keep fighting, he wanted to believe that Sam would come for him, but the reality was becoming clearer every day and he was going to have to face it eventually, whether he liked it or now.

Dean Winchester was probably going to die down here in this basement as some vampire's food, and there wasn't anything anyone was going to be able to do about it.


It felt strange riding shotgun with his dad. Sam couldn't actually remember the last time he had done that. It had always been Dean's position. Of could, they had always driven in the Impala too, and now they were in his dad's truck, tearing down the highway, hopefully toward some lead that would bring them closer to Dean. He almost didn't dare hope.

"So, these vampires have been hunting along this highway," Sam said, looking over the map his dad had marked. "How'd you put this together?"

John glanced over at him. "Been keeping an eye on disappearances for a few months and noticed a pattern. Then a hunter buddy of mine called to tell me he'd taken out two vamps trying to take a girl from a gas station along the route. He suspected there were more, and when more disappearances kept happening, it looked like he was right."

"But that means Dean could be anywhere," Sam said, then bit his lip. He didn't want to voice his next thought, but it needed to be said… "I mean…how do we even know he's still alive, Dad?"

John took a deep breath. "Vamps are usually pretty careful with their food. They know how to make them last. Dean's probably safe for a couple more days at least, though that depends on how many are in the nest."

Sam pressed his lips together. He didn't want to think about his brother being fed on by vampires, but he supposed it was better than several alternatives he tried not to think about very hard.

"So you don't think they're far from town?" Sam asked.

"I'd say within a twenty-to-fifty-mile radius," John said. "They like to set up near a town for hunting opportunities, but far enough away that they can escape suspicion."

"So where are we headed first?"

John stared forward at the road. "There's several abandoned farm houses past the edge of town that are pretty secluded. Thought those would be a good place to start."

Sam nodded, silent for a long moment before he had to ask, "And what if we're wrong?"

"Then we'll try something else, but I promise you one thing, Sammy." John looked over at him firmly. "We're gonna find your brother."


It was getting harder and harder for Dean to stay awake. On top of the blood loss, they hadn't bothered to feed him. He'd been lucky they gave him some water every once in a while, but the fact remained that he was fading. Fast.

He could barely keep his body upright anymore, mostly hanging from the manacles, no longer caring about the ache it caused in his shoulders and back. Everything was dulling to something fuzzy and far away.

He had no idea how long it had been, had lost count of how many times the vampires had fed on him. He still hoped, perhaps selfishly at this point, that Sam would come rescue him. If only to see his little brother one more time. To apologize for the fight, whatever it had been about, to tell him to keep looking for Dad. Maybe this was just his death catching up to him. As much as he'd like to tell the reaper who would inevitably come for him to screw himself, well…at this point, Dean wasn't really feeling that bad about it. It was strange how one's perspectives could change.

His stomach flipped as he heard the familiar creak of the door and two sets of footsteps this time.

"Still kicking?" Victor's voice filtered in as he kicked Dean heavily in the thigh, bruising. He grunted but didn't waste his breath on anything else.

"You wanna finish him up together?" another voice said, and Dean recognized it as one of the younger vampires. He'd only seen them once before.

"No, Loretta will be pissed if we finish him without her so don't drain him," Victor said, kicking Dean again.

A disappointed sound was heard from the other vampire but he spent no time kneeling down and grabbing hold of one of Dean's arms. "Getting harder to find a vein," he muttered before his teeth sunk into the inside of Dean's elbow and he let out a soft sound of pain.

Victor chuckled and grabbed Dean by the hair, crouching to loom over him. "Man, it's been fun. Sorry I don't get to finish you off myself, so here's a kiss goodbye."

He yanked Dean's head to one side and latched onto the meaty spot between his neck and shoulder. Dean gave a hoarse cry, unable to keep himself quiet.

Maybe it was the desperation of the satiation, his body's survival instinct, but his fight or flight response kicked in. He started struggling, finding energy he didn't realize he still had to kick out and try to wrench out of the vampire's grip. Mostly all he achieved was the tearing of flesh caught tight between sharp fangs, but the attempt was made. He kicked upward at Victor and elbowed the other vamp in the side of the head.

"Get off! I'm not going out like this!" he shouted, not really knowing what he was saying, or why he was saying it out loud.

Victor slammed his head back against the wall and Dean saw stars, head swimming.

"Shut up, you little insect!" Victor snarled. Your days of hunting are over. You're our prey now and there's nothing you or your little hunter buddies can do about it. Your kind took two of ours so we're just evening the score."

His fangs sunk back into Dean's neck and Dean felt the pull of unconsciousness growing harder to resist. He'd failed. He'd failed Sammy, he'd failed Dad, he'd failed everyone. Himself too, may as well throw that in there. He wasn't strong, probably never had been. He certainly didn't feel strong now.

He didn't realize tears were leaking down his cheeks until he felt them start to slide down his throat, stinging in the healing bite marks there. He had no control over himself anymore. He couldn't fight, he couldn't even save himself.

He didn't even notice when the vampires stopped feeding on him because the pain was still just as great. He slumped, the chains around his wrists the only thing keeping him up anymore. Consciousness was slipping further away, or maybe it was just him who was slipping. Maybe this was it.

Dean watched more tears slide off his nose to mingle with the blood on the ground as he slipped away.


John parked the truck at the edge of the farm. Sam followed him out and to the back, grabbing some machetes.

This was the fourth abandoned property they had looked at and Sam was beginning to lose hope in this venture until…

"Look at that," John said, pointing toward the barn where a van with blacked out windows could be seen parked behind it. "I think this might be it."

Heart in his throat," Sam nodded. "What's the plan?"

John motioned toward the house with his machete. "It's the middle of the day so they should all be asleep. Cut down anything that moves. Their heads have to roll to kill them."

Sam nodded and they headed off toward the house.


Dean drifted. It was dark all around, and though he could hear loud noises in the distance they meant nothing to him. He could only think of blood, or the lack of it. Was he even…alive?

"Dean!"

The name filtered in past the darkness, but it was only a faint echo. He heard it again and something about it made him want to open his eyes, but he couldn't even find the strength to do that.

"Dean! Come on! Wake up!"

He groaned softly, pain starting to trickle in again. No, there shouldn't be pain if he was dead. Where was he?

He tried to pry his eyes open and found someone leaning over him, hands pressed to the sides of his face. Worried hazel eyes gazed at him, wetness gathered at the corners.

"S'mmy," Dean somehow managed.

"Yeah, hey, yeah, it's me, Dean."

"How is he?"

Dean caught sight of another figure standing behind the first and was certain this was a dream now. His dad couldn't be here if it was real. That he was certain of.

"'M sorry," he murmured. "S'rry, Dad, S'mmy…couldn't…do it. Failed."

"Dean, stop!" Sam's voice cut in, slightly less echoey now. Dean cringed as the pain started to seep in again in earnest. He heard the clank of chains and suddenly his arms were falling to his sides, causing agony to tear through his shoulders and back. He collapsed forward but arms caught him, holding him close. Dean's face was pressed against something warm, with the familiar scent of Sam, not his own blood and fear.

"Sammy?" he croaked again, this time feeling a little more anchored to reality.

"I got you, Dean, you're safe now," his brother's voice filtered in.

And that was all Dean needed to know, because after that, his body seemed to completely give out, no fight left.


Sam kept a firm eye on Dean as John drove them back to the motel. He looked…terrible, wrapped in a camp blanket and bundled into the backseat of their dad's truck.

"Dad," Sam said hesitantly. "I really think we should take him to a hospital…"

John glanced over. "You know that's not a good idea."

Sam clenched his jaw. "He's lost a lot of blood and on top of the dehydration…"

"Sam, enough," John snapped.

"I didn't save my brother just for him to die because he didn't get the help he needed!" Sam snapped.

John whipped around to look at him. "Look, if we bring him to a hospital the police will be snooping around and that's not gonna end well. His vitals are still okay."

Sam huffed, shaking his head.

John's jaw tightened, but he finally softened his voice slightly. "We'll patch him up first and if it looks too bad, then we'll see if we can find a clinic or something. The kind that won't ask questions."

Sam almost snapped again because Dean did look incredibly bad, but honestly, he was too tired to argue further for once, and was simply glad to have his brother back with him and breathing. He would definitely be taking Dean to a hospital himself if he needed it though, no matter what John said.

Dean wasn't fully conscious when they carried him from the car to the motel room, but just the way he curled into himself when they laid him out on one of the beds made something in Sam break. He'd seen his brother hurt before, he'd seen him cry, but this weakened shadow of Dean was currently carving his heart out. He couldn't get Dean's apology from back in that cellar out of his head. Why had that been the first thing on his mind?

"Let's get him cleaned up first," John said grimly.

Sam clenched his jaw with a nod and they pulled Dean into the bathroom, setting him in the tub where they stripped off his filthy clothes and started to clean the injuries.

Sam almost threw up at the sight of the bitemarks that littered Dean's body, but he pushed through, getting the water warm and soaping up a cloth to start cleaning the injuries while his dad got on the phone to call in some other hunters to help clean up the mess they had made back at the farmhouse.

Sam was gently dabbing dried blood away from several overlapping bitemarks on one side of Dean's neck when his eyes shot open and he suddenly flailed.

"Geddoff!" Dean croaked, eyes darting wildly.

"Hey, Dean, it's okay," Sam coaxed, grabbing his brother's wrists.

That seemed to be a mistake however, because Dean instantly panicked even more, tugging at Sam's grip. He was weak, but still strong enough to risk hurting himself further.

"Hey, calm down," Sam pleaded.

Footsteps hurried into the room and John suddenly bent over the tub, snapping out, "Dean! Stop fighting!"

Dean stilled, body trembling uncontrollably as his eyes finally fixed on John. "Dad?" he breathed.

John smiled and reached out to cup Dean's chin with one hand, patting fondly. "Yeah, it's me, Dean."

"Y'really here?" Dean slurred, eyes blinking slowly.

"I am."

"Son of a bitch," Dean murmured before he seemed to pass out again.

Sam pressed his mouth into a worried line and finished cleaning the rest of his injuries.

"I got towels down on the bed and the first aid kit out," John informed him.

Sam nodded and once he was done they picked Dean up and carried him back into the room, laying him gently on the bed.

"This knife wound might need a couple stitches," John said as he inspected one of Dean's arms.

For some reason Sam felt a wave of protection for his brother wash over him. "Look, Dad, I got it, okay? I'm used to patching Dean up."

"Sammy," John said with a sigh, pausing before he continued. "I know I haven't been around but let me help, okay? It's the least I can do. He's my son."

Sam almost refused. Resentment bubbling up inside of him, but his dad was right. It was the least he could do. And to be fair, he had shown up when Sam had never expected him to, probably saving Dean's life considering Sam may not have figured out the vampire thing before it was too late.

So he stepped aside and allowed their dad to help tend Dean's injuries. Putting a couple stitches in where they were needed, and helping to hold him up while Sam wrapped bandages around Dean's chest and shoulder.

Sam grabbed Dean's comfortable pajamas and wrestled them on gently before stirring his brother awake enough to drink some electrolytes since he was obviously dehydrated on top of everything else, not to mention the blood loss.

"We'll let him rest a little and then try to get him to eat something," John said.

Sam sighed but nodded, sinking down onto the other bed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at Dean lying tucked under the blankets, looking too pale and gaunt. Sam hadn't seen him looking that bad since he'd been dying from the electrocution accident. When John hadn't showed up.

He shook his head. His dad had come this time, that's what mattered. There was no time for petty resentment; not when Dean would need both of them.

John stepped close and settled a hand on Sam's shoulder, startling him slightly.

"You should rest too," he said. "I doubt you've gotten much sleep the past couple days."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, not so much."

"Well, I'm here so let me watch over Dean for a while."

John's tone left no room for argument and Sam couldn't deny the fact that he was tired. He simply shifted until he was lying curled on the bed, and, staring across at his brother's unconscious face, he fell asleep within minutes.


Dean's sleep was peppered with flashes of teeth and blood, something holding him down, keeping him from moving. He tried to get away but he couldn't and more vampires were coming…

"Dean, come on, son, wake up."

Dean startled into wakefulness, pulling slightly against whatever was restraining him. But the restraints simply squeezed his shoulders with a comfortable pressure.

"Easy."

The voice and the face looming over him were not what he had expected and he had to wonder if this was all part of the dream.

"Dad?" he croaked, vaguely recalling something from earlier as well. A thought flickering at the back of his mind.

"Yeah."

"You really are here?" Dean asked him.

John smiled. "I promise I really am here."

Dean let out a long exhale of breath. "You're okay…I mean...we didn't know if you were."

He felt tears threaten and swallowed hard, refusing to cry in front of his dad now. Not when he'd already showed so much unforgivable weakness.

"It's okay, Dean," John said quietly. "It's all over now."

Dean swallowed again and glanced around the room. "Sam?"

"Asleep," John assured him just as Dean's eyes fell on the lump in the other bed, Sam's head buried in the pillows. Dean relaxed upon seeing his brother safe and sound.

John took a bottle of water and carefully lifted Dean's head up for him to drink before laying him back in the bed. "You should rest too."

Dean sighed, but was already well on his way to complying. His eyes slid shut and he felt himself being dragged back into unconsciousness, except this time, it was one he was sure he would wake up from.


Sam woke to the sound of voices in quiet argument.

"I got it, Dad, really."

"Dean you can barely stand up, now let me help you."

"I said I'm fine, seriously."

Sam sat up, seeing Dean trying to push himself up from the bed using the side table, fending off a helping hand from John. Sam knew how stubborn his brother could be when he was hurt or sick, and just how much he hated to show weakness, but he could also see the distinct trembling in his limbs, and how white his face was.

"Dad, I got him," Sam insisted, pushing himself to his feet wearily, feeling the drag of sleep heavy on his body. He ignored it and grabbed onto Dean's shoulder.

"Don't need your help either Sammy," Dean grunted breathlessly just as his legs gave out and he let out a sharp gasp. "Damn, forgot the knee…"

"Yeah, I noticed it was pretty swollen," Sam said as he and John caught Dean between them. "So come on, let us help for once."

Dean grumbled. "Just need the bathroom."

"So I'll get you there," Sam replied and allowed Dean to lean on him as they slowly moved in that direction. Sam flipped the light on and led Dean inside.

"I don't need you to wipe my ass for me too," Dean growled.

"And trust me, I'm glad of that," Sam replied blandly. "Don't fall down and break your skull open."

He closed the door behind him as he turned back around to face John who was standing there looking like he didn't really know what to do.

"Look, if you don't need me here, maybe I should go," he said.

"No, Dad," Sam said tiredly. "You know how Dean gets when he's hurt. And…you know, it's been a while since you've been around."

"Yeah, I get that."

"And you didn't come the last time he was dying," Sam felt he had to add.

John's head hung. "Sam…"

"I don't care what your excuse is, Dad," Sam cut in quickly. "I get you think you're protecting us but I really could have used you then. And honestly, if you had showed up then, none of this would have happened. Dean only walked off because of an argument we had over you!"

John looked taken aback. "Well, I don't really know what to say to that, Sam."

"Of course you don't," Sam snapped. "You never know what to say! Be honest—you only showed up this time because you were already on this hunt."

"That's not true," John growled. "And I know you can't get it into your head, but I stayed away to protect you boys and I'm not going to apologize for that."

Sam huffed out a breath. "Yeah, I know. You never do."

"Enough!"

They both glanced over to Dean who was propped in the bathroom doorway, sick looking, but glowering at them.

"This isn't anyone's fault except those vampire bastards, so both of you cool it. You're giving me a damn headache."

Sam went over to Dean who grudgingly allowed Sam to help him back to the bed. He was panting by the time he slumped back onto the mattress.

"Dad, I'm glad you're back, but you've gotta get it into your head that we can take care of ourselves and we have been. Now come on, please don't fight now. I feel like crap, I'd rather just pretend everything hasn't gone to hell for once."

And Sam's chest loosened at that soft plea from his brother. It was the least he could do, after all. After everything Dean had done for him his entire life. All the times he had put on a false sense of happiness to hide the darkness that surrounded their lives, everything he had sacrificed to make sure Sam had a better life; as good as it could get in their situation. It was about time Sam took that role upon himself.

"Sorry, Dean," Sam said quietly. "You know I'm glad you're safe. We both are."

John nodded in agreement then motioned to the door. "Look, we don't have anything to eat here, so I'll run out and get something Dean can handle."

"Good idea," Sam said.

As soon as their dad was gone, Sam sat on the edge of Dean's bed, hands clasped in his lap.

"How are you really feeling?" he asked.

Dean slumped back against the pillows, looking wretched. "Like I got crushed between two semis, or maybe like a nest of vamps used me as their juicebox for…" he glanced around searchingly.

"Four days," Sam supplied.

"Damn," Dean murmured, swallowing hard. "Sammy, I…"

"No, Dean, just..." Sam shook his head. "I didn't mean what I said before, I was just mad, and…"

"Honestly, Sammy, I don't even remember," Dean told him tiredly. "But I forgive you; I know I said some stuff I didn't mean either." He looked up to meet Sam's eyes. "I meant to come back that night, you know."

"I know," Sam whispered.

"Can't believe Dad actually showed up," Dean mused. "How about that."

"Yeah," Sam said. Now that he had time to think about it, he still wasn't sure exactly how to feel, but there was something nostalgic about the setting, and though Dean was still in pretty bad shape, Sam knew how to deal with his injured brother. As long as he had Dean, breathing, then it was a good day, no matter what else came of it.

"So what do we do now? You think he'll stick around?" Dean asked.

Sam took a deep breath. "I think…we figure it out later, when I'm not exhausted and you're not loopy from blood loss."

"Fair," Dean murmured. "If Dad comes back from the store."

Sam huffed a wry laugh, but he had a feeling they didn't have to worry about that. Because he knew that John did care about them. And maybe this time they could actually convince him to stick around for a while.

"Hey," Sam finally said, turning to his brother with a small smile, trying to keep the lump from welling in his throat. "I'm glad to have you back."

"Glad to be back," Dean said sincerely and wearily leaned forward, raising his arms slightly with a cringe. "Come here, bitch."

"Jerk," Sam huffed against his shoulder as he leaned in and held onto Dean gently.

Whatever came in the future for them, whether their dad stuck around or not, Sam was certain that as long as he and Dean stuck together, they could get through anything.


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