"You are a manipulative, little shit Sam."
Dean stood unwavering as he crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at his little brother who was looking up at him, resembling way too much of Bambi when his mother had been shot.
Fuck but he was weak to his brother when he looked up at him like this, he could already feel himself caving in and wanting to take the handcuffs off.
But then he breathed the air in deeply and the smell of sulfur filled his lungs to the point that he had to cough to clear his airways.
He couldn't let Sam out, not just yet. It was still too dangerous to do so and if Sam didn't see that, then all the poorer for him.
He was trying to do what was best for his brother, he was sure that once they got Sam back he'd see that.
But until then, he had to remain strong and he had to be hard on Sam and not give into whatever he wanted.
It also meant that he was going to have to go upstairs to get more things and face their dad and Bobby some time soon. He could look for clothes in some of the boxes to cover the blood but he knew that it wouldn't do any good to do so.
If he stayed here any longer he was going to crack and let Sam go and that was something that he couldn't allow to happen.
"I'm going to go upstairs." Dean told him, watching a wave of displeasure crossover Sam's face. "I'm going to get soup and cleaning supplies. You are going to eat that soup and then you're going to get washed."
His eyes narrowed when he heard Sam making a protesting sound. "I said, you're going to eat the soup and you're going to get washed." he repeated, his voice hardening. "I know you understand me you little shit and I know you can talk."
All Sam did was look pitifully at him again, tugging at the handcuffs and Dean fought the urge to throw water on him.
"When I come back, if you're not going to talk, I'm going to be really pissed off Sam." Dean warmed him before turning and leaving the room.
Once he was in the hallway he let out a deep breath and slumped against the wall, eyes closed as he tried to maintain his composure. The blood had dried on his clothes and wanted nothing else but to take them off.
Fuck but he was tired, he felt like he had been tightly wound up, a coil and bundle of nerves and panic that had been released not because of relief but because if he kept it locked up anymore, he was going to lose it.
Running a hand down his face Dean shook his head, forcing himself to push himself off of the wall. Each step upwards on the stairs felt like his feet were being pulled down by lead. He stumbled a few times but finally, managed to make it up the stairs.
He could hear Bobby and their dad arguing in the living room and ignored them, not wanting to have anything to do with either of them for the time being. He slipped into his room upstairs, forcing himself to go up these stairs a lot faster to avoid detection. He ripped his clothes off and stuffed them deep into an empty bag of his to either be washed or thrown out later.
He changed into a fresh pair of clothes, nabbing some new clothes for Sam too from his bag. Putting it under his arm he went downstairs to the kitchen, already antsy about how long he'd left Sam alone in the dungeon.
"And how long are you going to be a goddamn coward and not face your son?" Bobby all but thundered at his dad as he went back downstairs. He quickly moved into the kitchen, unsure of which son Bobby was talking about.
Dean moved a bit faster now, grabbing a can of soup and opening it up to heat it for his brother. He grabbed two bottles of water and then looked around, uncertain about what else to bring to him.
He had no idea what to bring to someone who was going through drug withdrawal. The basic was that he needed to keep him hydrated and full of fluids, don't let them relapse, and that was...that was it. That was all that he knew what to do.
He was sure that either dad or Bobby would know something else but he had no desire to talk to either of them for the time being. Or in the future, he didn't want to face anything right now and he was forcing himself to hurry up and get back to his brother.
Once the soup was heated he poured it into a bowl for Sam, grabbing a few things for himself as well to eat down there. He pocketed the water bottles and looked over, grabbing another empty bowl and dish washing soap. It was the closest thing he had to actual soap within arms reach.
He almost ran into his dad as he left the kitchen, barely able to keep a hold on the tray with everything else on it.
"Dean, I want to talk to you about Sam." John told him, his voice a bit rough and eyes straining slightly. Dean felt a small flash of irritation shoot through him, despite how a part of him was telling himself that he was being ridiculous.
Sam was dads son and he had been the one to press that he should go instead of John, of course, John was feeling guilty about the whole thing but at the same time, knowing everything that he did about his brother right now, Dean found it hard to care.
"I need to get back downstairs." Dean told him. "We'll talk later."
"No, I want to talk now." John pressed, reaching for Dean's arm.
Dean didn't jerk back, he didn't want anything to fall, but he did move enough to get the message across.
"You want to talk?" Dean half asked, half demanded. "Then come downstairs."
Without waiting for an answer Dean all but shoved past his dad and went back down to the dungeon, mouth twisting in displeasure when John didn't follow.
I do not own Supernatural.
284/365
I do take requests so if you have requests you can send them to me.