Disclaimer: Supernatural, the Winchesters, and any other characters and/or places which may appear do not belong to me.

Whumptober 2020, Day #16

Prompt(s): Shoot the hostage (again, sorta loose *shrug*)

Author's Note: This is sort of an AU story I don't really know where it came from but hope ya'll enjoy anyways. Set in season 12. Warning: BAMF and ruthless Winchesters who don't really give a fuck about anything except each other. But it's season 12, you know? Who can blame 'em?

Today's Whumpee: Dean Winchester

"Don't touch him!" Sam snarled. Dean was laying across from him on the ground, unconscious. Sam held his breath as the masked man continued aiming the gun at his brother. Dean had been knocked out, choked to unconsciousness. Sam could see the bruises forming on his brother's neck already in the shape of the man's fingers.

"Awww, is he your boyfriend?" the masked woman across the room teased.

Sam flicked his eyes to her. She seemed to notice the pure hatred in his gaze because she blinked away quickly.

Sam strained at the ropes binding him. He'd managed to get the penknife out of his pocket and had cut away some of the rope but he still could break them. He continued cutting at them, all the while watching the two masked persons. They had barged into Sam and Dean's motel room, demanding information on the case the boys had been working on last week. Sam had wondered if they were maybe a couple of rogue hunters, or maybe even monsters, but now he really couldn't care less. Sam had managed to clip the man in the shoulder, but it had been the middle of the night, and while Sam and Dean's night vision was good, the two intruders seemed to be able to see uncannily well.

They'd pinned Dean down and then Sam a few minutes later. Thinking about it, Sam figured they were vampires or werewolves maybe, because normal humans weren't usually able to overpower his big brother like that.

When Sam finally felt the ropes slacken, he didn't show any outward signs. The two intruders were talking in hushed tones now, and while their guns were still trained on the boys, — hers on Sam and his on Dean — their eyes were on each other.

Dean's gun was laying a few feet away from him on the ground. Sam laughed to himself when he realized how stupid their captors were to not even collect the fallen weapons.

Sam was able to move freely now, but he was still discreet in his movements. He moved only an inch or two so that he was able to nudge Dean's gun with his foot. He slid it closer, barely making a sound across the carpet. When the gun was close enough to reach it with his hand, he took a deep breath, and then moved in a flash.

He snatched up the gun, clicked and aimed, and shot the man in the leg, then he turned the gun on the woman.

"Drop the guns and kick them over to me," Sam said. The man was on his knees now, clutching at his thigh which was bleeding profusely.

The woman seemed to snarl again and she threw her gun to the ground angrily. The man had dropped his own when Sam had shot him. She slid them over to Sam one at a time. He grabbed them and put them on the bed behind him.

Sam went immediately over to check on Dean, flicking his eyes up every now and then.

"Dean?" Sam shook his brother's shoulder. "Dean, come on back to me, man," he said. "I could take these two punks out no problem, but I figured you'd want a crack at them too, huh?"

Dean stirred. He blinked open an eye and then the other. "S'mmy?" he croaked.

"Yeah, there you go." Sam gave his brother a hand and helped him up into a sitting position.

"Wh't h'ppened?" Dean slurred, rubbing his neck where the man had been choking him while the woman had punched Sam.

"These losers seem to think they got the drop on us; why don't we show them who they're really dealing with?" Sam asked.

"Sounds good to me," Dean said. Sam helped him up, then handed him a gun from the bed. He intended to check Dean's responsiveness later, but for now, he just wanted to take care of this filth.

"Masks off," Sam said, training his gun on the woman while Dean steadied him on the man. Now, they were the hostages.

The masked pair exchanged a quick glance, looked back at the weapons trained on their hearts, before pulling the masks off, revealing bared fangs.

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick glance, a nod, raised their guns an inch, before two bangs erupted in sync throughout the small room. The werewolves fell together, landing in a heap.

"Lucky we still had silver bullets leftover from the last hunt. Guess it makes sense why they were wondering about that now, huh?" Dean said.

"Yep," Sam hummed. "C'mon, we better get outta here."

He stuffed their things into a bag while Dean tried to unlatch and open a window quickly — he failed so he just shattered it with his elbow — and they clambered out as they heard people moving outside and above them in the second floor of the motel. The Impala was parked around back so they were able to hurry towards it and get in quickly.

"I'm driving," Sam said.

Dean didn't have time to question it, so he tossed the keys to Sam as they got in. Sam revved the engine and they were gone, and nobody was ever the wiser.

AN II: So this one was a little bit different. Not much hurt/comfort I know I'm sorry :/ the next one has more tho