Day Six
Dean woke suddenly, startled by the sound of footsteps moving past the room where he and his brother slept. After the argument with their father, Dean had sat with Sam until his brother fell into an exhausted slumber and he remained where he was, sitting on the bed, his back against the wall, concerned John might try and badger his brother with questions again.
Glancing at his sibling and seeing that Sam was still asleep, Dean stood and stretched. He paused only to grab his and Sam's duffel bags and stepped into the hallway. The door across from theirs stood open, the sheets on the bed rumpled, the room empty.
Dean quietly closed the door to his and Sam's room and walked down the hallway. Stepping into the bar area, he saw that Ellen and Jo were also awake and he greeted them distractedly.
"Where's Dad?" he asked.
"Putting his stuff in the car," Ellen told him, "Said he wanted to be ready to leave as soon as you boys were up."
Dean nodded and walked outside.
It was a pleasant morning, the sky a robin's egg blue, cloudless, a warm breeze blowing in from the south.
Dean caught sight of his father bent over the Impala's trunk, head down, moving items.
John looked up at the sound of Dean's approach and the son saw a blue bruise on his father's cheek.
"Dean-" John began but the young man simply handed him the two duffels he held and then turned away, leaning against the side of the Chevy.
Dean waited while John loaded the trunk and closed the lid.
"I was going to take a ride," John said quietly, "I'd like it if you'd come with me."
Dean stared at his feet for a moment and then turned his attention back to the Roadhouse.
"We won't be gone long," John assured him, "I just… we need to talk."
Dean glanced at his father from the corner of his eyes, his gaze once again focusing on the bruised cheek and he nodded.
"Ten minutes," Dean said, "Tops."
John nodded.
Dean moved around to the right side of the vehicle and climbed into the passenger's side while John took a seat behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition. Dean folded his arms over his chest as they drove slowly through the parking lot and turned to the left, moving slowly down the deserted road, the air inside the car thick with tension.
SPN
Sam's eyes felt swollen and it took him a second to open them, yellow gunk sticking to the lashes. Raising a hand, he scrubbed at his eyes and blinked.
"Dean?" he called and received no reply.
Sitting up suddenly, it took a second before Sam remembered where he was: Harvelle's Roadhouse. His brother and father were here, Ellen and Jo were here. He was safe. He was among friends.
Although not cold, Sam zipped up his brother's jacket and climbed out of bed, noticing that his duffel was gone.
He opened the door and peered down the hallway.
"Dean?" he called again.
He could hear someone moving around in the bar area and he followed the sounds.
Leaving the hall, Sam saw that Dean and their Dad were not there.
"Good morning, Sam," Ellen, working at the bar, the strong scent of coffee wafting through the air.
"Where's Dean and Dad?" Sam asked, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. His right hand reached up to touch the black cord which held the amulet around his neck.
"I saw them leave the parking lot a minute or two ago," Ellen told him.
"What?" Sam asked, his heart skipping a beat.
"I'm sure they'll be back soon," Ellen assured him, "Why don't you sit and wait for them out here? I just made some coffee if you'd like some?"
Sam glanced at the door to the Roadhouse and told himself he was being stupid. His brother and father were going to be back; there was no reason they wouldn't be.
Moving forward he sat down on a stool at the bar, resting his arms on the smooth wooden surface. Ellen smiled at him.
"You like milk and sugar?" she asked and Sam nodded.
He glanced over his shoulder at the front door of the Roadhouse before settling in to watching Ellen prepare his coffee, her back to him as she worked.
"Here you go," Ellen turned and handed him a white mug filled with steaming hot java.
Sam gratefully wrapped his hands around the mug and watched the woman potter around the bar for a few minutes; wiping surfaces, rearranging glasses, etc.
He looked up when Jo stepped inside the bar from a backroom, her blonde hair hanging loose over her shoulders, a box of Coca-Cola cans in her arms.
"Hey," she smiled at Sam.
He didn't smile back. He was fighting the urge to look at the doorway again. He wanted his brother and father to come back soon.
"Sam, why don't you drink your coffee while it's still hot?" Ellen spoke up, smiling at the young man.
Glancing down at the mug of coffee, as though he had forgotten all about it, Sam lifted the cup and took a small sip, the steaming beverage burning his tongue.
SPN
Dean glanced at John from the corner of his eye as they drove.
"Okay, you wanted to talk," he growled, "Let's talk."
John didn't respond for a moment but pulled onto the gravel shoulder of the road and cut the engine. Dean lifted an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry about what happened last night," John muttered, his hands still gripping the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on some point beyond the windshield.
"Don't apologize to me," Dean told him, "You need to apologize to Sam."
Their father nodded, "I know, I know I do. And I will but I also owe you an apology."
Dean stared at his father. John Winchester was never, ever wrong and if he was, he sure as hell wasn't going to admit it.
"I should have listened to you when you first said we needed to go to California, I should have dropped everything and went to make sure Sam was all right," John said, his voice quiet.
"You're damn-" Dean began but his father held a hand up to stop him.
"Just let me speak," John begged, "Please."
Dean didn't respond.
"I know you're angry at me and I wouldn't be surprised if Sam felt the same way but you two have no idea… no idea how guilty I feel."
Dean remained silent.
"Sam is my son, my baby and to know that I could have stopped him from getting hurt… that it was my choice that made it worse for him…" John hesitated, "I'll never forgive myself for that."
Dean waited. John didn't say anything else.
"Why are you telling me this?" Dean finally asked.
John now peered at his eldest son, his dark eyes red-rimmed and moist.
"I know you think I don't care," he said, "I know you think I'm an asshole, that I'm just obsessed with revenge but I'm not. You and Sam… I know I may not show it all the time or even most of the time but you two are so important to me. You and your brother are the only thing of Mary I have left and to know that I messed up, that Sam was hurt because of something I didn't do…"
John just shook his head, unable to finish the sentence.
Dean didn't know what to say. Was he supposed to tell his father that he was forgiven? Was he supposed to tell his father that he understood why he'd decided to wait to go to California to check on Sam? Because if that's what John wanted, he was going to be waiting a long time.
John cleared his throat, turned his attention back to the windshield.
"We'll have breakfast with Ellen and Jo and then head to Sioux Falls," he told Dean and turned the key in the ignition, pulled a U-Turn and headed back towards the Roadhouse.
SPN
Sam frowned when his vision suddenly blurred and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second and his eyes cleared. Ellen remained behind the bar, watching him.
"Are you feeling all right, Sam?" she asked.
"Yeah," Sam muttered.
"Is the coffee okay?" she asked.
"Mmhm," Sam hummed and looked up at the sound of a car's tires crunching on the gravel of the Roadhouse's parking lot. He took a second cautious sip of coffee before deciding that he didn't want anymore. He carefully pushed the cup across the bar.
The creak of a vehicle door's opening and several pairs of footsteps crunching gravel sounded and Sam turned to face the bar again. Maybe it was some tourists looking for a breakfast place.
Ellen paused and smiled at the customers as they entered the bar, their footsteps approaching and stopping behind Sam..
"Hello Sam," Magnus' voice spoke and Sam felt all the blood in his veins freeze.
The eighteen-year old turned around and there he stood, smiling, blue eyes sparkling, flanked on either side by Brothers Titus and Darius.
Sam's vision blurred again and he scrambled off the stool he was sitting on, stumbling as his legs refused to cooperate.
"Grab him," Magnus ordered and Darius and Titus lunged forwards.
"No!" Sam cried out but staggered backwards against the wall, his legs feeling like they were made of overcooked noodles, his vision blurring for a third time.
He tried to fight, tried to punch at his attackers but his arms felt as though they weighed a thousand pounds he was couldn't seem to put any strength into them.
Titus and Darius quickly subdued the young man, grabbing him by his arms and dragging him forwards.
Magnus smiled at Sam.
"Let me go," Sam whimpered.
The blond-haired man reached out and put a hand on Sam's cheek, "You know I can't do that. You're already bought and paid for."
Sam let out a sob of fear.
"Go now," Ellen's voice spoke from behind the bar, "You don't have a lot of time."
Sam turned his head and saw the woman standing there, arms crossed over her breasts.
"Help me!" Sam cried as Titus and Darius began pulling him towards the doorway.
"Help me! Please!"
Ellen didn't move. She stood behind the bar, watching silently as Sam was dragged out the door.
The young man struggled to break free of his captors but it was no use, they were too strong.
Sam watched with a flare of hope as a red minivan approached the Roadhouse, slowing down as it did so. The driver, a middle-aged man with a woman, probably his wife beside him, stared at the four men in the parking lot before quickly accelerating and heading down the road.
They reached the car- a nondescript silver Crown Victoria- and Magnus opened the rear passenger door. Titus shoved Sam into the car and then sat down on the left hand passenger's seat. Darius moved to the other side and sat on the right side, the eighteen-year old squeezed between them, once again grabbing his arms painfully.
Magnus closed the door and then climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine and turned the car so that it was facing the direction they had come from, towards California.
SPN
Dean stared out the window as they drove back to the Roadhouse. He wanted nothing more than to get his brother and head to Bobby's.
Dean looked up as they drove closer to the bar and he saw a silver car waiting to pull out. John slowed down as they approached the parking lot but the driver of the other car seemed to grow impatient and pulled out suddenly, nearly colliding with the Impala before turning in the opposite direction and speeding down the road.
Dean sat up suddenly, watching the car rush past as John swore out loud.
"Was that…" Dean felt his heart skip a beat. He could have sworn he had seen his brother in the back seat of that car.
"Stop!" Dean exclaimed, reaching out to put a hand on his father's arm. John slammed on the breaks.
"What?"
Dean turned in his seat to see if he could still see the silver car.
"Sammy," he muttered.
"What's wrong?" John asked but before Dean could answer, Jo Harvelle was running across the parking lot towards them. She yanked at the Impala's rear door and climbed into the back seat.
"What are you doing?" John asked.
"Sam's in that car!" Jo hung over the back of the front bench seat, her hair hanging in her face, pointing to the back of a red minivan disappearing down the highway.
"What!" John asked, turning his head so fast he had to have given himself whiplash.
"Dad!" Dean leaned forward, pointing at the silver car quickly driving away from them.
"Go!" Jo exclaimed.
"SAM!" Dean shouted and John started to turn the Impala in the direction the Crown Victoria had gone.
"Wrong way!" Jo nearly screeched, staring out the back of the Chevy.
"Shut the hell up!" Dean turned and shouted in the girl's face.
Pulling awkwardly away from the parking lot entrance, John pressed his foot down hard on the gas as he drove after the silver Crown Victoria.
SPN
This can't be happening, Sam told himself, this has to be another nightmare. He closed his eyes as his vision blurred again while they pulled out of the parking lot and then started down the highway.
Looking up into the rear view mirror, Sam saw Magnus watching him.
"You nearly got me into a lot of trouble," the blond-haired man told him, his smile vanishing.
"My Master was very displeased to hear you had escaped," he continued.
Magnus' smile suddenly returned, "But now we're back on track."
"Let me go," Sam whimpered, "I won't tell anyone about you."
He was ignored.
He saw Magnus frown slightly at something behind them but then he spoke again.
"You'll have to be punished, I'm afraid," Magnus continued, "It seems you're harder to break than I first thought."
Sam whimpered, "Please don't hurt me."
Again he was ignored. Magnus was watching something behind them again, his blue eyes narrowed and the car accelerated.
SPN
Dean was leaning forward, hands on the dashboard, his heart hammering in his chest as they followed a half-dozen feet behind the silver vehicle Jo had said Sam was riding in.
"Can't you go faster?" Dean barked at his father.
"You're going the wrong way!" Jo tried again from the back seat but neither Dean nor John was listening to her.
"It's the van! Go after the minivan!" Jo yelled right into John's ear and Dean reached out, grabbing the front of her shirt as she leaned forward.
"Shut up or I'm gonna chuck you out the Goddam window!" Dean snarled at her, his expression murderous.
They needed to get to Sam and if the asshole driving the Crown Victoria knew they were being followed there was no chance they were going to stop on their own. Dean saw his father frown as the silver car picked up speed and he pressed his foot down harder on the gas. Luckily they were in the middle of nowhere and there were very few other drivers on the road.
John sped up so that the front of the Impala actually bumped into the back of the Crown Victoria.
"What are you doing!?" Jo screamed but neither Winchester answered.
The silver car sped up again and suddenly changed lanes.
"The hell-" John growled and then the Crown Victoria suddenly swerved back into their lane after nearly clipping a blue pickup truck.
"Is he trying to get into an accident?" Dean asked when the silver car swerved yet again, this time onto the shoulder of their side before straightening again.
SPN
Sam turned to stare out the back window and saw his father's 1967 Chevy Impala suddenly fill the lane behind them, coming close enough to touch the Crown Victoria.
Hope blossomed in Sam's chest and suddenly he darted forward before Titus or Darius could move and shove Magnus' head forward so he smashed his nose against the steering wheel.
"Gaarrrrggghhh!" Magnus shouted angrily as blood spurted from his broken nose and he clawed at the steering wheel- the car had drifted suddenly into the opposite lane- and pulled back to their proper side.
Titus and Darius grabbed at Sam, pulling him back. Sam flailed his arms, one of his fingers hooking into Darius' eye, causing the older man to rear back with a cry of pain.
"Control him!" Magnus snapped, turning in his seat and causing the car to move towards the shoulder.
Brother Titus grabbed a handful of Sam's hair at the side of his head and Darius punched him. Sam slumped in his seat, pain in his temple radiating outwards, blinding him for a minute.
Once his vision returned, Sam was Magnus wipe blood away from his nose with his sleeve, the man glaring at him in the rear view mirror, not seeing that he had once again drifted into the opposite lane.
"Watch out!" Darius shouted from beside Sam and Magnus turned just in time to see a semi-truck bearing down on them and jerked the wheel, causing the Crown Victoria to roll down the embankment on the left side of the road.
SPN
Dean's heart stopped in his chest as he watched the semi-truck nearly smash into the silver car, only to miss it by inches when the Crown Victoria rolled into the deep ditch. The truck driver laid on his horn as he passed but didn't stop, blowing past the Impala on his way down the road.
John slammed on the breaks and the Impala slid to a halt, gravel on the shoulder flying up as it did so.
"Dean," John said and reached out to open the glove compartment and grab a gun, holding it out to his son.
Dean jumped out of the car, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of the silver car lying upside down in the ditch.
"SAM!"
SPN
Pain spread down Sam's spine as he lifted his head and blinked blood from his eyes. He was laying on the roof of the Crown Victoria, his neck jammed against the back of the car's middle console. All he could hear was the ticking of cooling metal.
Moving only his eyes, he caught sight of Brother Titus lying beside him, his neck bent at a ninety degree angle, eyes wide and glazed, dead. Pushing himself up with his hands, Sam turned his head, grimacing in pain, to the other side. Brother Darius slumped with his head hanging from the broken window, shards of glass piercing his neck.
"SAM!"
A familiar voice shouted his name, spurring the young man into action. Carefully, on his hands and knees, arms shaking, Sam crawled over Titus' dead body to the door and fumbled with the handle. After a second it opened and he was able to inch it forwards enough to squeeze out. Dried grass and litter crunched beneath him as he tried to stand, only to fall back.
"SAM!" Dean's voice called again and Sam looked up to see his brother standing at the top of the ditch.
"Dean!" Sam replied and began moving forwards, on his hands and knees, up the embankment.
Dean started downwards, sliding on the dirt as he did so. John appeared at the top of the ditch, pacing nervously.
"Stay there!" Dean told him, "I'll come to you."
Sam smiled, watching as his brother made his way towards him. He startled when he felt a hand wrap around his ankle. Turning, Sam's eyes widened in shock to see Magnus, blood dripping from his nose, pulling himself through the driver's side window, blue eyes flaring with anger.
"Sam," he hissed and yanked Sam's leg, as though to drag him into the car with him.
"No!" Sam cried out and jumped when the sound of a gunshot pierced the air and Magnus fell forward, a round, red hole in his forehead.
Sam crawled away from the man, tears in his eyes, and into his brother's arms.
"Sammy," Dean sat on the grass and cradled his brother to him, "Sammy, Sammy."
The eighteen-year old clung to his brother, crying.
"It's over, Sammy," Dean murmured, "It's over. They're dead."
Through tear-blurred vision, Sam watched John approach.
"Let's get him to the car," their father said gently.
"C'mon Sammy," Dean put his hands on Sam's elbows and drew him up, "That's it."
Dean kept his hand on his brother's elbow while John took his son's other one and they led the youngest Winchester up to the road.
Once they stood on the shoulder, Dean paused.
"Jo?" he peered through the Impala's windows, "Where'd she go?"
"C'mon Dean," John encouraged, "We need to get out of here."
Dean, distracted, guided his brother to the backseat, climbing in with him.
Seated, Sam leaned against his brother.
"Are you okay, Sammy?" Dean asked, brushing Sam's bangs away from his brow.
"Did they hit you?" Dean asked, seeing the fresh bruise on his brother's temple.
Sam nodded. He raised a hand and wiped at his brow, his fingers coming away red.
"Dean?" he asked his brother.
"That damn gash on your forehead," Dean opened.
"We'll stop at the Roadhouse and get you cleaned up and then head to Bobby's," John told his son and Sam's hazel eyes widened with fear.
"NO!" Sam sat forward suddenly, startling Dean.
"Sam!" Dean grabbed at his brother, trying to get him to sit back.
"No! Please! Don't go back!" Sam exclaimed, "Not there!"
"Sam! It's okay!" Dean tried, "Those assholes are dead! You're safe!"
Sam slumped in his seat and shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes again.
"No, no," he whimpered.
John quickly pulled over onto the shoulder and put on his hazard lights. He turned in his seat to look at his sons.
"Sam, what's wrong? Why don't you want to go back to the Roadhouse?"
Sam took a few shuddering breathes, struggling to get himself under control.
"She… she…" he began and took another ragged breath, "She didn't… didn't… help."
"Who didn't help?" John asked gently.
"E-Ellen," Sam whimpered and looked up at his father, "She… she just…stood there… just stood there…"
"Wait," Dean held up a hand, "Ellen saw those guys grab you?"
Sam nodded, now looking down. His vision blurred again and he whimpered.
"It's okay," Dean put an arm around his shoulder.
"She… gave me coffee…" Sam whimpered, "Couldn't fight them…"
"What do you mean?" John asked.
"C-Couldn't see," Sam whispered, "Couldn't f-fight them o-off."
"Do you think she put something in your drink?" Dean asked.
Again Sam nodded without looking up.
"What the fuck is going on?" Dean asked, his question directed to John.
"I don't know, Dean," came the reply, 'But the more I hear, the more it scares me."
"Let's just get to Bobby's," Dean said and Sam heard his father shift around in the front seat and seconds later the car was moving forwards again.
"I'm sorry," Sam whimpered.
"Hey," Dean said, "You have nothing to apologize for Sam. Nothing."
Sam sighed and rested his head against Dean's chest and closed his eyes.
SPN
Ellen looked up as Jo stepped inside, a little wind-swept but no worse for wear.
"What was that?" Ellen snapped.
"I had to make sure everything went as you said it would," her daughter pouted.
"You could have been hurt," Ellen argued.
Jo crossed her arms, "I'm sixteen, Mom. I'm not a child."
Ellen scowled, "You're still my child."
Jo huffed and began combing her hair with her fingers.
"So? I don't see John and Dean anywhere." Ellen offered.
"Magnus is dead," Jo told her, "Sam got away."
"Damn it," Ellen muttered to herself and took her phone from her pocket.
Jo stopped fussing with her hair and stepped up to her mother.
"What are we going to do now?"
"Don't you worry, Sweetheart," Ellen said, pressing buttons on her phone as she spoke, "There are more than one way to skin a cat."
Ellen smiled serenely as she forwarded Sam's photograph to her contacts. They needed no explanation; they would know what to do. Putting her phone back into her pocket, Ellen held out her arm and Jo snuggled up to her.
"John Winchester will get his," Ellen murmured to her daughter, kissing the top o Jo's head.
You take away someone I love, Ellen thought to herself; I'll take someone you love.
SPN
The drive to South Dakota wouldn't take long, perhaps three and a half hours and John didn't plan on stopping until they reached Sioux Falls.
He glanced at his sons in the rear view mirror. Sam sat right beside Dean, his eyes closed, blood drying on his forehead, one hand clutching his older brother's t-shirt. Dean peered at his sibling sadly, one arm across Sam's shoulders.
Dean suddenly looked up and met his father's gaze in the mirror, his expression worried.
"If Sammy's right and Ellen was working with those assholes who hurt him…" Dean paused, glancing down at his brother again before returning his gaze to his father, "What's to say Bobby isn't?"
John frowned.
"I've known Bobby a long time," he told his son, "He's a good man, Dean. I'd trust him with my life."
"I hope you're right," Dean muttered, "For Sam's sake."
Me too, John thought but didn't say.
W
John breathed a sigh of relief when they passed the weathered sign welcoming them to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
Movement in the backseat caught the hunter's eye and he glanced in the mirror to see that Dean was encouraging Sam to open his eyes. The younger teen did as he was told and turned his head to look at his brother, grimacing in pain as he did so.
"My neck hurts," Sam whimpered.
"We're almost a Bobby's," Dean told him, "We'll get you something when we stop."
John drove quickly through the city, past half-remembered storefronts and houses, parks and industrial buildings. Finally, at the edge of the city, past the train yard, they reached a property surrounded by a chain-link fence, it's gate open onto at dirt-and-gravel driveway. Cars of every shape, size, colour and state of decomposition filled the yard as they approached a worn, grey clapboard house.
John parked and cut the engine. He stared at the screen door of the house for a long moment. From inside the dwelling came an angry barking and John wondered when Bobby had got himself a dog.
A figure approached the screen door and creaked it open, a streak of black and tan rushing out past the figure and running to the car, barking and snarling.
"Rumsfeld!" Bobby Singer's familiar gruff voice scolded, "Down!"
John eased open his door first and the dog, a large Rottweiler stuck its head into the space, moist black nose snuffling at the hunter's pants.
"He's all right," Bobby called from the porch, "All bark and no bite."
John shoved the dog's head out of the way and stood up. Bobby remained on the porch but John saw his old friend smile and suddenly he felt the tension he hadn't known he'd been holding ease just a little bit.
"C'mon boys," John spoke to his sons through the glass and Dean opened the car door.
Rumsfeld stared up at Dean, mouth open in a large smile, pink tongue lolling. The teen reached out and put a hand on the dog's large blocky head. The Rottweiler's brown eyes closed in ecstasy as Dean scratched his fur.
Dean turned to Sam, "He's friendly."
While his sons exited the car, John stepped up onto the rickety porch and faced Bobby.
"Thanks for not shooting me," John told him, only half-joking.
Bobby smiled, "There may be time for that yet."
The two men turned to watch Dean and Sam. The older sibling was holding the younger teen's hand, like they were little boys again and Sam had his free hand held out for Rumsfeld to lick.
John turned to Bobby again and he saw his friend's grey eyes widen as he watched Sam.
"You weren't kidding when you told me what happened to him," Bobby muttered.
John shook his head, frowning.
The brothers climbed the porch steps and were abruptly swept up in a bear hug. Bobby, squeezing the boys together as he embraced them at the same time. John abruptly looked down at the dog who was licking his pants, feeling as though he was watching some private moment.
"C'mon in," Bobby's voice spoke, "My home is your home an' all that."
The Winchesters followed Bobby inside and John saw that the interior of his friend's house had changed very little since he'd last seen it.
"Can I get you anything? Something to eat, drink?" Bobby asked, and then, "There's a First Aid kit in the bathroom down the hall, Dean, you know where it is. You can clean that cut on yer brother's face there."
John watched his sons head down the hallway to a small half-bath and close the door. He heard Dean murmuring to his brother for a moment and then there was silence.
"Beer?" Bobby asked, holding out a can.
"We haven't even had breakfast yet," John said but he took the beer anyway.
"Want to tell me what happened?" Bobby asked.
John sighed. He had only given his friend a bare bones idea of what they were dealing with, partly because he himself wasn't completely sure what they were up against and also because it wasn't his place to tell. That was up to Sam, if and when he wanted to say.
"How much do you know about Ellen Harvelle?" John asked.
SPN
Sam sat on the closed lid of the toilet while Dean pulled the battered First Aid kit from the cupboard under the sink and set it on the narrow counter.
A scratching at the door startled Sam and his head snapped up, causing him to gasp in pain.
"It's just the dog," Dean assured him and opened the door enough so that Rumsfeld could stick his head inside.
Sam lowered his hand and the dog squeezed himself into the tiny bathroom, approaching the young man, stubby tail wagging. Sam smiled as Rumsfeld laid his blocky head on his knee and peered up at him.
Dean shook his head and picked what he'd need from the kit: gauze, tape, hydrogen peroxide, a bottle of Ibuprofen.
The older brother worked quickly yet efficiently, as he cleaned the opened gash on his brother's brow, mopped up the blood, dried the skin around it, placed a piece of gauze over the wound and affixed it with medical tape. Then he shook a couple of the white tablets from the Ibuprofen bottle into Sam's hand.
"Hopefully those will help your neck feel better," Dean told him as his brother swallowed them without water.
Putting the First Aid kit back where he found it, Dean opened the bathroom door all the way and led Sam- and Rumsfeld- out and into the kitchen where their father and Bobby sat.
John looked up when his sons entered the room, his dark eyes sad.
The boys took the two remaining chairs- Sam moving his seat as close to his brother's as possible- and looked at the older men.
"Sam," John spoke softly, "Bobby and I were talking and well… I can't tell him much about what happened because I don't know everything. Do you think you can… do you want to… tell us what happened?"
"Dad," Dean leaned forward before his brother could speak, "I thought we weren't going to press him."
"It's okay, Dean," Sam whispered from beside him. Dean turned to look at his brother.
"Sam, you don't have to talk if you don't want to," Dean assured him.
"I know," Sam muttered. He looked down. Rumsfeld was standing beside him, tail wagging, liquid brown eyes peering up at him, begging for attention. The young man reached down and stroked the dog's blocky head.
"You boys want something to drink?" Bobby asked.
"Bit early for beer," Dean replied, "Do you have soda?"
"I do," Bobby replied, Sam heard the older man's chair scrape across the linoleum as he stood.
"Sam? You want something? I have Ginger Ale," Sam didn't look up at the man. He kept his gaze locked onto Rumsfeld's brown eyes, half-closed in joy as he was petted.
"Okay," Sam muttered.
"You sure you want to do this, Sammy?" Dean asked and the boy tore his gaze away from the dog to his brother.
"No," Sam admitted, "But… I feel like I should."
He couldn't speak before but maybe, now that Magnus and some of the others were dead, he would be able to tell his family everything that had happened.
Bobby set a can of Ginger Ale in front of Sam and a can of Pepsi in front of Dean and then sat back down, his attention fixed on the youngest Winchester.
Sam took a deep breath, glanced back down at the Rottweiler standing beside him and started to talk:
He told them about arriving at Branner Hall, about meeting Terry, how they seemed to hit it off right away, how they had decided to see if they could join a club or group and their walk through campus as they searched. He told them about how Terry had received a mysterious invitation to a fraternity party at Beta Theta Upsilon and insist they check it out.
He told them how he'd felt uneasy at the party and wanted to leave but Terry called him a wimp.
"I should have just left," Sam muttered, "I should have just told him I was going back to Branner Hall with or without him."
Dean squeezed his brother's hand, "You just did what you thought was right."
Sam hesitated for a long moment; stalling, he took a long drink of his soda and lifted his hand away from Rumsfeld to wipe eyes that had grown wet.
Then he continued:
He told them how he and the other boys had been shepherded into the basement of the house and told to take off their clothes.
Dean squeezed his hand when he told them about his refusal to do as Magnus said and how the Brothers had had to 'help' him undress. Sam's cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment at the memory but he forged on, telling them how they had all been handcuffed with their backs to the wall and left in the dark.
Sam hesitated again, his hand trembling as he picked up his can of Ginger Ale, brought it to his lips, then set it back down without drinking.
"One of the boys died that night," he whispered, "I don't know what exactly happened… maybe he'd had too much of the drug they'd be given… but n-no one came to help him and the next morning it was t-too late to s-s-save him."
Sam paused, and then continued, "Magnus didn't even care. He just kept acting like it was all some hazing ritual."
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he continued. He could not, would not stop now, no matter how painful it was.
Sam told them about being forced to eat rotten food, his stomach bunching into knots at the thought of it.
"Magnus knew I wasn't drugged like the others," Sam muttered, "He knew I knew what was happening wasn't right."
"Sammy," Dean murmured.
Sam didn't look at his brother, "I think he got off on it somehow… knowing that I knew what was really going on."
He continued, telling them about how he'd tried to convince Terry that they weren't in a fraternity, how they needed to escape… and being punished for it with the gag.
"They tattooed us with numbers," Sam released Dean's hand, shrugged out of the coat and laid his left arm on the table, the tattoo stood out in stark relief against his skin.
He told them about the 'challenges' Magnus made them do, about the boy named Ben who vanished, about having their pictures taken.
Bobby stood up and Sam looked up, startled.
"Another beer, John?" he asked and the Winchester patriarch nodded, his dark eyes wet, his face pale.
"I wouldn't eat the food," Sam whispered, his voice barely audible, "I didn't want to be like the others… I couldn't."
"When Brother Titus went to try and give me oatmeal I broke his nose," Sam told them. Dean squeezed his hand and offered a sad smile.
"I knew it w-was a stupid th-thing to d-do," Sam stammered, "B-but I ha-had to do something."
Bobby had stopped rummaging in the fridge, the door open, spilling a cool breeze out into the kitchen.
"The… they went upstairs." Sam continued, his gaze far away, "But when they came back, Magnus was so mad. I don't think he liked me not doing what he told me."
Sam paused, tears stung his eyes. He squeezed Dean's hand. Hard. Lifting his free hand from Rumsfeld's head, Sam unconsciously clutched at his brother's shirt, as though afraid Dean was going to vanish with his next words.
"H-He undid the h-handcuffs," Sam said, "He m-made me turn around to face the w-wall."
"I… I didn't k-know what he was going to d-do," Sam tried to keep his composure but he couldn't. Tears leaked down his face and his voice shook. He paused, licking his lips, tasting salt and closed his eyes.
"The… the Brothers raped me."
"Sammy," Dean murmured sadly.
"They… they took turns."
He felt Dean squeeze his hand almost painfully.
"That's enough," Dean said, "You don't have to say anything else."
Sam opened his eyes and looked at his brother.
I've already come this far, his expression said, I just need to go a little bit further. I need to finish this.
"I lost track of time," Sam told them, "I don't know how long it was until I finally came back but when I did, Magnus said the others were ready to leave."
Dean raised an eyebrow.
"He wanted me to stay," Sam muttered, "I think because I kept fighting. He kept talking about breaking me."
Bobby moved slowly back to the table, his quest for more beer forgotten.
"Magnus let the others free," Sam told them, "And said I needed to be punished because I hadn't listened."
"He made the others…" Sam hesitated once again, his gaze finding Dean's face and he fixed on that, "He made them attack me… they hit me and then… and then…"
Sam sucked in a shaky breath, "Terry and the others, they… raped me… while Magnus and the Brothers watched."
"Christ on a cracker," Bobby's voice whispered but there was no other sound in the kitchen save the ticking of an old Budweiser-themed clock on the wall.
Sam released his grip on his brother suddenly, wrapping his arms around his torso and leaned away from Dean. The older sibling reached out, however, and grabbed his younger brother in a tight embrace. After a long pause did Dean speak.
"Then we found you," he prompted, "We got you out."
Sam shook his head once, "They left me in the dark. I was so scared. I didn't think you'd come."
His brother's words sent a chill down Dean's spine. Just how close had Sam been to giving up when they had found him?
John cleared his throat and picked up the narrative, telling Bobby how he and Dean had found the location of the fake fraternity house, how they'd rescued Sam and thought they were keeping him safe by taking him to Nebraska. Sam added to the story, telling them what had happened to him once his brother and father had left the Roadhouse that morning.
"I never thought Ellen would do something like this," John confessed, "I knew I wasn't her favourite person but… to go to such lengths to get revenge…"
"Why is Ellen so mad at you?" Dean suddenly spoke up, "I don't understand."
John stood, crossed the kitchen to Bobby's fridge and grabbed himself a beer, "I used to go on hunts with her husband, Bill, sometimes."
Dean nodded, "Okay."
"One day, a hunt turned sour," John took a long drink from his can of beer, "Bill got hurt bad. There was nothing I could do. I had to leave him. He didn't make it."
Dean raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
"I told Ellen it was an accident," John continued, "Things happen, especially to hunters. She knew that but she wouldn't see reason. She blamed me. Said it was my fault Bill died. That I had killed him."
John shook his head, "I just thought she'd shoot me if I ever saw her again or something. You know… but this? Involve Sam in something he had nothing to do with…."
Bobby cleared his throat.
"Seems like a lot of work just to get back at you, John," he said, "There'd be a hell of a lot of stuff she'd need to know and organize for everything to work just right."
John nodded and sat back down.
"I didn't even tell anyone about Sam going to college," he agreed, "That stayed with Dean and I."
"What are you saying?" Dean asked.
"We don't actually know much about Ellen before she married Bill," John said, "She just appeared in his life one day and that was that. She was always very secretive but we never really noticed. Who in the hunting community isn't?"
"What yer Daddy's trying to say is," Bobby leaned forward, "Is that this seems to go deeper than just a plot to get back at John for something that happened years ago."
Dean frowned, "Are you suggesting that Ellen is involved in human trafficking? For real?"
Bobby shrugged.
Dean looked at his brother. Sam looked exhausted.
"You want to go to bed, Sammy?"
The younger Winchester nodded. He wasn't tired, not physically at least, but he felt drained emotionally and mentally.
"The guest room upstairs is ready for you boys," Bobby told Dean and he nodded as he stood, guiding his brother up the narrow staircase and onto the second floor. Rumsfeld following the brothers up the staircase, stub of a tail wagging.
John looked at Bobby once his sons had disappeared upstairs.
"What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?"
SPN
Dean pulled the blanket up to his brother's chin and paused to look at his sibling as he lay in bed. Bobby's Rottweiler lay at the foot of the bed, a silent guardian. Dean gave a sad smile and turned to leave, only to have Sam's hand grab him by the wrist.
"Please stay," Sam muttered, "Just until I fall asleep."
Dean smiled, "Sure, Sammy."
He sat down on the edge of the mattress beside his brother.
"You were very brave," Dean murmured to his sibling, speaking to Sam as though his brother were a little boy again, "I couldn't do what you did."
One corner of Sam's mouth lifted in a smile.
"You'd have done better than me," Sam whispered.
Dean just shook his head.
SPN
"Is Sam safe?" John asked Bobby.
"I don't know," his friend replied, seriously.
"Magnus and the Brothers are dead," John insisted.
"From what Sam said, there are more than just the ones who were with Magnus today," Bobby reminded him.
John appeared to think for a moment and then nod.
"What do we do?" he asked, "Get rid of Ellen?"
Bobby looked at John in surprise, "Yer not serious?"
"She's the reason all this happened to Sam!" John exclaimed, "And when we went to her for help, she stabbed us in the back!"
"Even if we did get rid of Ellen," Bobby said, trying to be the voice of reason, "If this thing runs deep, there's gonna be more to worry about. Besides, she's a member of the community. You'd have to do some mighty good examining to other hunters as to why you killed her."
John crushed his empty beer can in his fist.
"I just… Are we going to have to look over our shoulder our whole lives?"
Bobby shrugged, "It's that what you do anyway?"
John sighed, knowing his friend was right.
Both men looked up at the sound of footsteps and saw Dean coming down the stairs.
"Sam's asleep," he told them and sat down.
"What are we going to do?" he asked and both men looked at him in exasperation.
SPN
Sam ran down the highway, the sun beating down on him, dust swirling around him, the silver Crown Victoria speeding after him.
He knew he couldn't outrun the car, knew any minute it would hit him, crack his bones, squash his internal organs, kill him.. but he wouldn't stop running.
"SAM!" a familiar voice shouted from the side of the road and he dared to turn his head and see Dean standing on the gravel shoulder.
Sam gasped as the heat pouring off the silver car warmed his back and he looked behind him to see Magnus behind the wheel, blue eyes blazing with cold rage, blood smeared down his face from his broken nose.
"SAM!" Dean's voice shouted again as Sam fell, the Crown Victoria bearing down upon him.
W
"Sam," Dean's voice said and a warm hand touched his back, "Sam, wake up."
The young man's eyes snapped open and he peered into his brother's face.
"You were having a nightmare," Dean murmured and Sam nodded, sitting up. Rumsfeld crossed the bed and stood beside the younger brother, breathing on his face, tongue lolling out, brown eyes full of concern.
"What time is it?" Sam asked, wrapping his arms around his knees.
"Afternoon," Dean told him.
Sam picked at a loose thread on the bandage around one wrist.
"You want to go back to sleep?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head.
"Do you want to go downstairs? Maybe we could watch TV or something?"
Again, Sam shook his head.
"Can we just sit up here for a little while?" he asked.
Dean nodded, "Sure, Sammy, whatever you like."
Dean sat down beside his brother and Sam leaned his head against his older sibling's shoulder.
"How are you feeling?" Dean asked.
"I don't know," Sam muttered.
"Is your neck feeling better?" Dean wanted to know.
"I think so," Sam told him.
Dean sighed. Sam's head shifted against his shoulder, hazel eyes glancing up into green ones.
"Dean?" Sam whispered.
"Yeah, Sammy?"
"Am I safe?"
Dean sat up straight and looked at his brother.
"What kind of question is that? Of course you are," Dean told him, "We're not going to let anything happen to you."
Sam glanced down, picking at a thread on the bandage around his wrist again.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"Hey," Dean reached out and put his fingers under his brother's chin, forcing him to look up, "You're fine, Sammy. Don't feel like you have to apologize, ever, for your feelings. Okay?"
Sam looked down again and the brothers lapsed into silence.
SPN
"Do you think anyone else could be working with Ellen?" John asked Bobby, taking a sip from his can of beer, "If she really does have ties with human traffickers and this isn't just some convoluted way to get back at me for Bill?"
Bobby looked at the eldest Winchester, "You mean, another hunter?"
John nodded.
Bobby scratched his beard, "I don't know what to tell you, Johnnie, I hope not but you never know."
John sighed, "Yeah, you're right."
"You and the boys stay here as long as you need to," Bobby told him, "Mi casa es su casa."
John smiled thinly, "Thanks."
SPN
Sam leaned against Dean as they sat side-by-side on the porch steps. The younger man hadn't wanted to go outside but Dean had insisted that it was safe. So, they sat quietly, Sam throwing an old tennis ball he'd found for Rumsfeld to catch and bring back.
Dean kept one arm across his brother's back, even as he wrestled the slobbery ball from the Rottweiler so he could pitch it into the yard over and over again.
Both brothers looked behind them when their father stepped out onto the porch.
"How're you doing?" John asked; Dean took the ball from his brother and chucked the tennis ball out into the yard, high over the tops of the wrecked cars, Rumsfeld dashing off to retrieve the chewed green orb.
"Okay," Sam muttered. He looked up when his father took a seat beside him.
"I know you've had a tough day," John began, "But… I want to ask you one more question."
Sam didn't reply. He watched as the Rottweiler trotted up to Dean, ball held proudly in his mouth.
"Do you know," John began, "The name of the person you were supposed to go to?"
Dean stopped fighting for the ball and turned to look at his brother. Sam shook his head.
"No," Sam muttered, "Magnus never said who he was. He just called him Master."
John nodded, put a hand on Sam's shoulder and stood, his sons watching him as he did so.
"I'm sorry," Sam said.
"It's not your fault," John assured him and went back inside.
"Is Dad mad at me?" Sam asked Dean.
"No," his brother assured him, "Of course not. He's just trying to keep you safe."
SPN
John stalked back into the house and sat down at the kitchen table. Bobby was standing over the stove, cooking a large pot of spaghetti sauce.
"Pass me another beer," John told him. Bobby looked at his friend, eyebrows raised.
"Haven't you had enough today?" he asked.
John worked his jaw, hands clenching reflexively into fists but then he sighed, "You're right. A soda then?"
Bobby nodded, reached into the fridge and tossed John a can of cream soda.
"You all right?" Bobby asked, turning back to his sauce.
"I don't even have a starting point," John grumbled, "Other than Ellen and she's not going to be too willing to talk about her extracurricular activities."
"What are you going on about?" Bobby asked, "Yer not thinking of going after those assholes who grabbed Sam, are you?"
John just looked at his friend, "They hurt my son! They hurt other people's sons! They can't get away with that!"
Bobby dropped the wooden spoon his was stirring his sauce with and approached John.
"Are you out of your mind?" he asked, "You can't go up against them!"
"Why not?" John argued, "I've gone up against worse than them!"
Bobby shook his head, "That's not the point! They are not creatures; they're people! They may not be innocent but you can't go around killing folks all willy-nilly!"
"I wouldn't be doing that, Bobby! I'd track down every sick son of a bitch who was involved in Sam's abduction and make them pay!"
John's heart might have been in the right place but his brain certainly wasn't. Bobby gave a long-suffering sigh.
"Johnnie," he spoke slowly, to keep himself calm, "You know as well as I do that this doesn't just end with one person or two or three. If you go after these people yer gonna have a target on yer back and that's only gonna make it more dangerous for Sam and Dean. I'm sure the fact that Magnus and the other two died is no big loss, but if someone starts taking these people out, one by one, methodically, they ain't gonna stand for it. I know yer pissed, I know you want revenge- I do too, believe me- but you can't touch them."
John just shook his head. He didn't want to hear it, even if it was true.
"You ever heard the saying that living well is the best revenge?" Bobby asked, going back to his sauce and giving it a stir.
"Sure," John replied, "It's bullshit."
"Well, yer gonna have to embrace it," Bobby told him.
John scowled. Bobby narrowed his eyes at his friend.
"You don't want to but just think of what could happen to Sam- and Dean- if you go on this revenge kick."
The eldest Winchester paused, staring at his unopened can of soda.
"Goddamn it," he muttered, "I hate it."
"I know," Bobby agreed.
"Fine," John growled, "I won't go after anyone but… if any of them comes after Sam again, I won't hold back."
Bobby nodded, "I wouldn't think you would."
SPN
Dean was slurping up Bobby's homemade spaghetti noisily before noticing that his brother was just twirling his noodles around on his fork without actually eating.
"Sammy, c'mon man," Dean said, "Eat something. You haven't had anything all day."
Sam picked up a noodle with his fingers and dangled it over the floor, where Rumsfeld quickly snapped up the treat.
"It ain't poisoned," Bobby said, "An' don't feed the dog."
Sam glanced down at his plate, picked up his fork and twirled some pasta onto it. At his side, the Rottweiler scratched at his leg, begging for more spaghetti.
After a pause, Sam lifted his fork and ate. Seconds later, he dug his fork back into the bowl of noodles and began eating faster, realizing how hungry he had been.
Dean smiled across the table at their father and continued eating.
Author's Note:
Special thanks to mandancie for editing this chapter.
Thanks to scootersmom, carlton1, bumblebeecas, Supermikeyninjalady, PriWinchester, only-some-loser, CBloom2, Lyra152, Mistycat, TweetyRulz, and Thalia Winchester for reviewing.