Powerless

Chapter Three

"Wanna bet, asshole?"

The deep, cold as steel, pissed off voice that came from the now open basement door was one Sam Winchester would recognize anywhere. Hearing it now both stunned him and caused a wave of sick shame to build within, considering he knew what his brother had just walked in on. A piece of Sam wondered if Dean would just turn and walk back out.

The shapeshifter that was still wearing Dean Winchester's face looked up in almost confused shock, registering both the man he was pretending to be and the gun that was steadily aimed at him.

"What…what're you doing here?" he demanded, staying perfectly still as if certain the clearly pissed off hunter wouldn't dare shoot him so long as he was close to Sam.

Dean Winchester stared into his own face, something he'd hoped he'd never have to do again, and slipped off the safety at the question. "You have something that belongs to me," he replied tightly, fighting to keep his temper reined in, but it was clear what the shifter had been doing to his trapped brother. "Step back," he ordered firmly, torn between just shooting the bastard in the heart and checking on Sam. His brother was making soft noises that both tore the older brother's heart and also reignited his temper.

"I left enough clues to make you think he'd run away again!" the shifter snapped angrily, furious that his game was being ended. But it was still not ready to throw in the towel yet. "You were supposed to be two states away or drunk in some dive bar! You aren't supposed to be here trying to take my fuck toy! I was just getting him broken in!"

Dean heard his teeth gritting together at those words but still held his temper and his position, his .45 held steady. He knew the bastard was just trying to distract him and with Sam's life on the line, Dean couldn't make a mistake. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll give you that one. You took just the right things to make it look like Sam might've left. And considering things recently? I can't say I would have blamed the kid," he admitted grimly, hearing a soft whimper and fighting the need to get to his brother. He knew the second he broke eye contact with the damn smirking shapeshifter, the thing would lunge for him. The one thing the pissed off hunter was firm on was that he was not getting into a goddamn physical fight with a naked monster wearing his face.

"Of course, there were just three little things you didn't do that raised every red flag, you son of a bitch," Dean growled, stepping farther into the room, immediately fighting not to gag from both the smells and what he could see.

"Oh? And pray tell what were those things, hunter?" the shifter asked with a sneer, feeling a little more confident that he could get the upper hand on the older Winchester if only he could turn his attention. "It doesn't matter. After all, you can see what I've done to him wearing your face. Did he ever tell you what that shifter in St. Louis did to him, Dean?"

Dean had to bite his lip to keep quiet, locking his eyes on his own instead. There was a piece of him that worried just how badly this would affect them, wondered what else the bastard might have said to Sam that Dean would either have to face this time or watch another wedge drive between them.

"Sam wouldn't take off without his laptop, asshole," he began, watching the shifter slowly edge away from the rack. It was still too close to Sam than the older brother cared for. "And if he had run off and didn't want me to come looking for him, he would've disconnected the GPS tracker on his phone." Dean smirked at the now frowning shifter, continuing to stall by playing into the shifter's twisted game. "Lastly? You didn't think about the hotel security cameras or that when I went to ask the manager if Sam had been by to say where he might've gone, the guy was confused and told me that I told him Sam fell in the shower and I was taking him to the ER for the head wound.

"The second I saw my own face dragging my unconscious little brother out of that room and into some piece of crap car, I knew Sammy hadn't left under his own power." He dropped his voice even lower, his tone dangerous as he narrowed his eyes. "Now, ask yourself how fast I plan on killing you after seeing what you've done to him? This isn't revenge, this is you being a sick ass shapeshifting rapist bastard."

The flash of rage on the shifter's face was brief. He detested being told the flaws of his plan and even more so, being stalled from ending his kind's issues with the Winchesters, once and for all. He just needed to get his toy's so-called rescuer to drop his guard...

"Why do you care if I've fucked his ass, Dean? Can I call you Dean? I mean, we do currently share a face, and I've had a piece of little Sammy's ass like you've been wanting to," he sneered as he watched the hunter's jaw tighten.

"You should thank me, Winchester," he laughed, taking another step around the bench, keeping Sam's body between them. The elder Winchester wouldn't shoot, not when he could hit Sam. The younger brother made a sound, causing Dean's eyes to flick to the side. The shifter grinned. "I did what you don't have the guts to do! And I don't mean fucking him... I mean telling him the reasons why you hate him! I told him how disappointed and angry you were about his extra curricular demon fucking, all while you were being spit roasted by a demon's cock down in the pit. He knows your secret, knows if you weren't so hung up on being the perfect big brother that you would've taken his ass at fifteen ..."

Ice cold rage, worse than anything he'd ever felt before, was building up inside Dean. As each of the shifter's confessions hit he realized this was much worse than anything they'd faced recently.

When Dean realized a shifter had taken his brother using his form, he knew the odds were good the slimy bastard had been close enough to read him, gaining whatever thoughts or memories he had that weren't locked down tight. He just hadn't counted on him picking up on those particular ones since those were things Dean had been fighting recently to keep his little brother from learning.

"Sam? Can you hear me, baby brother?" Dean called out, fighting to adjust his tone so he wouldn't freak his already in shock and traumatized sibling or make Sam even more afraid of him than Dean feared he would be. "Sammy?"

"Oh, he might've slipped into a coma. The drug I dosed him with makes him my perfect toy and won't let him answer unless I say so. His last order was to only moan, but he does moan your name out really well, hero. Wanna hear him?" The shifter smirked, mentally gauging the distance between itself and the shaking with rage hunter when a soft whimper was heard. He scowled when Dean's lips curved into a smug smile. "I will make him watch as I cut you into little pieces for the gator!" he growled.

"No. You aren't killing me and you sure as hell aren't touching what's mine again," Dean returned coldly, shifting his lean body to the side the second he recognized the muscles of the shifter tensing, readying himself to lunge and disarm him. "You, you sociopathic sadist, are going to die with a goddamn silver bullet in your heart, maybe even your balls. If I had the time and wanted to use the skills I picked up in Hell… Considering what you've done to my brother, I'm tempted. But first…"

The .45 going off sounded like a cannon in the basement prison room, but was muffled to Sam's ears. It served to help drag him into consciousness from where he'd started to drift again.

Sam thought he heard Dean's voice, but quickly filed that under wishful thinking, until he heard the sound of his brother's Colt. There was a shill scream and Sam half wondered if it was him. Someone was speaking to him… and he tried to focus.

"Sammy, I need you to pay attention to what I'm about to say. I'm going to take care of this asshole, then I'll get you someplace safe." Dean wasn't sure if Sam was registering him or not and he turned to meet the hateful glare of the now bleeding shapeshifter, smirking at the bleeding wound in the creature's knee.

"There will never be anywhere safe for either of you!" the shifter growled, attempting to stand, only to go back down with another scream as a second silver bullet struck his other knee. "He will never be safe! You hate him! You -"

"No. That's where you and every angel and demon seem to have it wrong. I don't hate my brother, I hate myself," Dean replied simply, keeping both his eyes and his pistol locked on the bleeding monster. "Your son of a bitch pal in St. Louis told him I hated him, that I resented him going to a big, fancy college out west while I gave up any chance I had to get out of this life. I figure you've given him the same song and dance with a few other little bombshells. The thing is, twinkle eyes, I will admit that where your pal lied, you actually told him the truth. Though I'd rather face Hell again than for Sam to ever know the truth…"

Dean knew he was taking a risk by moving his eyes away from the shifter, but he wanted to take a quick look to see at how conscious his younger brother was. He needed to get him unhooked but knew he had to handle the shifter first.

Sam's eyes were open, but they were also blown wide from either shock, the drugs, or the more likely combination of both. Recalling what the shifter said about Sam only able to follow commands, the hunter had to bite back his anger at his little brother having to encounter this nightmare.

"Okay, little brother, I know you probably can't talk yet, so I just want you to listen and try to blink one time for me," Dean began in a much calmer tone than he really felt. This close to his brother, he was able to get a better look at Sam's injuries and realized he needed to get him loose and as far away from this place as possible. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

It took a minute or two but finally, Dean saw Sam's face muscles struggling. Then, slowly, Sam's eyelids closed and reopened. It wasn't much, but it was huge to the hunter right then.

"Can you understand me, Sammy?" This was a slightly more important question since Dean needed his brother to understand what he was about to say.

He waited for another blink before beginning to smile, noticing the tears collecting in Sam's eyes. A single drop rolled free and Dean's heart clenched. He could only imagine the pain, physical and emotional, his brother was in right then.

"Okay, one more question before I finish this up and get you out of here." Dean moved his eyes over to the shifter, reaching up to grip the cold, clammy hand closest to him. "Do you believe I'm me?"

"How many times do you expect him to fall for that trick?" The shifter laughed, trying to pry the silver from his wounds so he could heal. "Maybe you are another member of my family, come to lure him into a false sense of -argh!"

This time, Dean fired into a shoulder while giving Sam's hand a quick squeeze. He wished he hadn't actually asked that damn question now, hoped Sam hadn't heard the shifter's words.

"My next shot will be your heart, jackass!" he snapped, moving more into Sam's direct line of sight. "As soon as I plant a final bullet in you, I will prove to my brother that I'm me but -" He stopped at the feeling of weak fingers trying to squeeze his and knew, at least for the moment, that despite any doubt or fear Sam was willing to trust that he wasn't being tricked.

"Now you might be wondering why you aren't already a pile of skin on this goddamn floor..." Dean understood the risk he'd placed them both in by not immediately killing the shifter on sight but he really did have a plan.

Grimacing in pain from the silver burning its blood, the shifter shot a sneer towards the too calm hunter. "Maybe because it turned you on to see what it would look like if you ever -"

Another shot fired into the shifter's other shoulder as Dean's jaw twitched. "You are a sick ass monster, I will give you that," he replied tightly.

"Oh, like you aren't for wanting to fuck your own brother or for what you did in Hell to save his useless ass?" the shifter sneered, expecting a final bullet to come, only to find itself frowning when the obviously furious hunter merely curved his lips up into a cold smile.

"I never said I wasn't, jackass," Dean responded coldly, giving the cold fingers he still held another light squeeze to reassure his brother. "In fact, that was the main reason I didn't want Sammy to ever know how I felt for him or what happened to me in Hell after I got off Alastair's rack or why I finally did give in to Alastair. How I felt for him was why I did make sure he got to go to that fancy school out West.

"I never hated or resented Sam, like your pal tried to fill his head with two years ago. I resented our father for tossing out the declaration that cost me my brother for four years and I hated myself for not having the guts to be willing to take a risk and go with him." The hunter gave another, firmer squeeze to Sam's hand before leaning closer to whisper something he hoped his brother would remember.

Dean slowly stepped away from Sam, careful to stay out of grabbing distance of the injured shifter as he aimed his pistol again. He held the creature's gaze as he went on speaking, tone growing harder and colder. "The only reason I've kept you alive this long and let you hear my speech is because I know there's a link between all of you shapeshifters. While you might not share a library of memories with one another, you do pick up details. Otherwise you wouldn't have known what was said or done to Sam in St. Louis.

"I want the rest of your little 'family' to understand one goddamn fucking thing and stop any half-assed future plans to come after my brother." Dean took one half step closer, cocking the .45 and aiming it steadily at the now hissing shifter. "It doesn't matter if we fight or if I'm not thrilled with a choice he makes, it doesn't matter what some douchebag angel says, what interference the demons try to run. It doesn't even matter if Sam thinks differently, or if he's afraid after this situation - Sam will forever be my goddamn pain in the ass little brother. I will have his back and I will protect him, no matter what.

"You opened a couple cans of worms that I would have preferred to stay shut, but now I'll just have to see where the chips lay and face 'em. There's a lot of things I should've faced recently, but despite what I might've said under the influence of monsters or booze? I don't hate Sam for what he did while I was in Hell. I know he coped as well as he could've considering I didn't prepare him for life without me!

"I made the choice to make the deal because he's my brother and I love him. I gave in after thirty years of pain, deals, and threats because yes, Alastair did learn of my not so brotherly feelings for Sam. But it was more than that. I wouldn't risk even the threat of Alastair grabbing Sam and torturing him." Dean silently prayed that Sam could hear him and would retain his confession. He would repeat himself, if need be, he just preferred not to. He watched the shifter's face, seeing as it finally dawned that his end was coming closer.

"I don't have a chance to even see if he shares those feelings, not thanks to your pal in St Louis and you for what you've done to him here. But you can take this bit of knowledge with you to your own monster hell and pass this message along to your pals for future reference: Sam is mine and I will kill for him!" Dean pulled the trigger one final time, watching the shifter's body jerk as the silver round struck its heart. As the creature fell, Dean emptied the rest of the rounds into it, just to be sure.

The second he heard the .45 click empty, Dean shoved the weapon into the back of his jeans and whirled back to the bench and to Sam. Now that the threat of the shifter was gone, the hunter had to remind himself to keep his temper in check, knowing any sign of anger would upset Sam. "Sammy!" he shouted, noticing that Sam's head was hanging down as much as the metal bar and strap would allow it.

A quick look around the sadistic shifter's prison showed the hunter a set of keys on a ring, hanging near the door, and he hoped it would open the locks; anything to save him time from having to pick the damn things.

From the same wall, Dean saw a blanket and he grabbed it. He hated having anything from this room touch Sam, but he needed something to get Sammy to the Impala where he could grab something clean and theirs. "Hey! Hey, little brother, you still with me?" he asked, wanting to kick himself as he remembered about the drug and again for not finding out from the bastard how to counteract it.

"Sam? Sammy?" he stepped in front of him, carefully lifting his brother's cold, sickly pale face in one hand, using his free hand to push slightly shaking fingers back through Sam's dark hair. While Sam's eyes were still open, they were definitely also a lot more unfocused than he cared for.

"Okay, if you can hear me a little, I want you to know that I'm getting you out of here. Okay, Sammy? Just hold on… I have to get these damn locks off you. And I'm sorry, Sam. There's going to be pain…" Dean looked over brother's battered body and winced, amending, "Alright, a lot of pain, but as soon as we're far from here I'll give you some of the good pills," Dean promised, ignoring the fact he was rambling. He knew from past experience that if Sam was hurt too badly or scared, hearing his voice would help keep his brother calm.

Unsure if Sam had slipped inside his own head to avoid the pain and memories or was somewhat conscious, Dean tried to keep a steady stream of conversation going to reassure both Sam and himself things were okay. As he talked, he leaned in to begin trying out the keys on the locks holding Sam's wrists and throat.

Sam had barely made any sounds as Dean was working on the locks. It took the hunter less time than he had thought it would to get his brother free from the goddamn bench. Sam only made a soft whimper when the tight cock ring was removed, and Dean released more than a few curses and muttered a promise to rip the lungs off of the next goddamn fucking monster they came across.

Conscious thought wasn't with Sam, even though he could hear Dean speaking to him, explaining what each touch was as he worked to free him. Shock, pain, and drugs had him just at the fringe of a dark void that part of Sam longed for. He'd heard Dean speaking to his captor, but Sam wasn't sure if he had heard it all correctly. He did hear what his brother had whispered in his ear before he'd gone to finish the shifter.

"'I love you. This isn't your fault, and I will make it right.'"

Sam wasn't sure what wasn't his fault since so much had been recently. As far as making things right, if what that shifter had said about Dean's time in Hell, Sam was just shocked that Dean had looked for him…

"I will always look for you, Sammy." Dean's voice came from close beside him and through Sam's foggy thoughts. He started becoming more aware and realized he was being carried bridal-style out of a battered looking stone building into muggy, sticky night air. The breath of fresh air was a relief, a welcome change from the festering stench of the room that would be in his nightmares for years to come.

"There's no sound but your lips are moving, so I know what you said, little brother." Dean reassured his brother with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He'd noticed that while Sam didn't look fully with it, his lips were moving a little more. Halfway from the building to the car, Dean took a break from the burning in his muscles from trying to heft his 6'4" baby brother out of that cesspit basement. As he looked down at Sam, he realized the younger hunter was mouthing words, talking about his thoughts like he'd often done when he'd had nightmares as a teenager.

Pleased that he'd managed to get them out of that room, up and out of the basement, and out of the house, Dean looked up to see they were almost there. His risk of parking close to the building, possibly ruining the element of surprise, definitely paid off. He wasn't sure if he'd even be able to carry Sam's almost-dead weight any further if he'd parked a block away.

"I'm sorry I ever gave you that impression, Sam. I know the past couple of days… the crap we've been through… has been bad, and I know we've done a rodeo like this before and there was always a chance of me falling for that scene back at the motel. But Sammy, I meant what I told that bastard… and I'll tell any goddamn shifter, angel, demon, or witch. Hell, even goddamn fabric softener teddy bears, that I will kill to keep you safe." Dean was careful to keep his tone even, choosing his words carefully since he knew this wasn't the time to get into anything heavy. "We'll talk, baby brother. I will… answer whatever questions you have. But right now, let's get you into the Impala. I'll toss a match into this place and try to find a clinic or… dude, don't bitch face me right now. You need more care than I can do in the back of the car or a motel. I have no idea what that damn machine did to you internally."

Sam knew he needed an ER, or at least a clinic, but he would've preferred just letting Dean do the patching up. Though, he was sure Dean would be more leery of these wounds, even more so then the ones he'd taken care of from Sam's captivity by the Benders.

'Clinic.' He hoped he mouthed and figured his brother had understood. Sam winced at how weak and shaky his legs felt when Dean leaned him against the rear of the car to open the back door. Dean froze when Sam reached for his arm without even realizing he'd moved.

Feeling the shaky hand on his arm, Dean glanced over to see glassy hazel eyes move to the front of the car and understood that his brother didn't want to be in the backseat. He debated arguing, since it would be more comfortable for Sam if he stretched out in the back, but the older brother inside Dean thought he knew why Sam wanted to be up front.

"Okay, front it is then, Sammy," Dean murmured, opening the passenger side door and helping Sam in as carefully as possible, switching the blanket with one he kept in the trunk. He quickly grabbed the battered leather jacket, originally their father's but had been Dean's for longer than the Impala had been, from the back seat. "Here, keep this over you, too." He smiled a little upon seeing weak fingers trying to grasp onto the jacket.

With Sam bundled in place, Dean grabbed a bottle of lukewarm water from the trunk as well, but hesitated. He wasn't certain if his brother was hurt internally but decided dehydration right then was a bigger concern. He knelt beside the open door and held the bottle to Sam's mouth. Sam took a small mouthful and managed to swallow it without choking.

Dean waited until Sam had taken a few more sips before capping the water, letting his hand rest on his brother's shaking shoulder for another moment before closing the door and moving around to slide behind the wheel. He nixed his own plan to burn the place to the ground in favor of getting his brother the help he needed.

Turning the radio on just to have noise, Dean was trying to get a better handle on where they were and which direction to drive when he heard a sound. Glancing over, he watched as Sam was struggling to move and was grateful the drug was slowly wearing off.

He had placed Sam tilted, leaning to one side as much as possible since Dean knew the damage from both that machine and the shifter to Sam's ass was bad. But Sam was turning, shifting the other way, and Dean had to fight back a rush of raw emotion as he realized it wasn't pain his brother was moving from, but from wanting to be closer to him.

In the past, as kids and even more recently, his brother would use his shoulder as a pillow. Dean merely reached over to slide a cautious arm around his shaking brother and understood the next few days, hell weeks, weren't going to be easy for either of them.

"It's okay, Sammy. I've got you and it's going to be okay," he promised, fighting back his own tears as he felt Sam's, hot against his neck. With an effort, Sam finally got to the place he wanted to be. Even if the younger man wasn't aware of the tears he was shedding, or the barely audible, halting words he was whispering, he hopefully knew he was safe.

"I've got you," Dean repeated, softly. He waited until they were well away from the tiny bayou town to grab his phone from his pocket, thankfully successfully not disturbing Sam as he seemed to be finally sleeping.

Pulling the car off the road to avoid a wreck, he left it running so the noise would stay a steady sound for his sleeping brother. Dean hesitated a second before making a choice and hitting SEND.

"Hey, Bobby, it's me. Hey, Sammy and I need some help."

TBC