Sam resisted the urge to block himself by going fetal and instead grabbed one of Cody's feet as he drew back for another vicious kick born of frustration and embarrassment. Sam caught his ankle and tugged hard.
The other man tripped and tumbled into Tom, who swore and sidestepped, narrowly resisting being taken down by his friend's weight.
Sam's fingers dug into the grassy lawn as he tried to scrabble up, but Tom grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and launched him backwards with preternatural strength.
Sam fell through the fence and slammed onto the wooden deck next to the pool with a distinctly rag doll appearance.
He rolled with a moan, blinking to try to clear his head but before he could orient himself, there was a hand on the back of his neck and he was pushed under the water. Sheer panic tore through him as the cold closed around his head. He clawed violently at the surface, splashing a ten foot radius around him and succeeding at little else. The instinctive reaction was futile as Sam found no purchase. He finally realized his mistake and retaliated by trying to tear at the hands gripping his head by the hair. The hold tightened more, burning his scalp with its roughness. A murky red haze started to creep behind his vision like a curtain of blood and his own pulse pounded in his ears. His chest burned.
Brady saw Tom hold Sam under the water and he sprang into action a few seconds later. Cody blocking his path was nothing more than a nuisance that Brady swatted like a fly, rendering him half-conscious on the grass as the casual blow glanced off the side of his head.
Unimpeded, Brady jogged through the wrecked section of vinyl fencing and grabbed Tom's arm. The other demon looked up at him, all black eyes and demented visage. A face all too familiar, for it was like his own in a way. They didn't speak for a long moment.
Brady grabbed Tom and pushed him aside. Tom's grip tore out a hunk of brown hair as he fell back and Sam yowled under the water.
Brady grabbed his friend by the shirt and hauled him up. Sam came up with an inhuman half gargle gasp.
Great, the kid was gonna die after all this. He should have intervened sooner. Brady forcibly dragged Sam's inert body a step or two away from the edge of the pool. He was aware of Tom, who had gotten up to watch him. He wasn't attacking, didn't come in for a retaliation. He wiped the blood off his mouth with the back of his arm and blinked. They shared a brief look as a silent understanding passed between them and Tom gave him the slightest inclination of his head.
Brady turned his attention back to Sam. He rolled him and thumped his back. "C'mon, Sam!"
Sam didn't seem to be able to get a breath. Fucking human beings. So fragile.
Brady pushed in under Sam's diaphragm in a half-hearted imitation of a Heimlich Maneuver and the force of it made the boy vomit pool water. There was a sound of a ragged breath and Sam panted, then vomited again. This time what he brought up was composed more of mucous from his irritated trachea than water.
Brady rubbed his friend's back in a quick soothing pat. He was a fucking idiot charging in like that to save a girl he didn't even know. But there was so much predictable Sam in the action. It was so Sam to feel that he needed to take on the weight of other's problems. Poor empathetic idiot.
"You okay, buddy?" He asked, betraying none of his derision.
"Yeah," Sam wheezed out in between gasps. Brady helped him sit up after another moment.
Sam looked weak. A line of blood ran from his head down into his eyes. He wiped it away, smearing it across his face and the demon got a rush of pleasure from it. Recalling all the days of tearing souls apart on the rack. All the beautiful red that ran. Such a sumptuous contrast against pale skin.
Brady took Sam's head in his hands and tilted it forward, trying to get a look in the dim light. Human eyes were so damnably limiting.
He couldn't tell if Sam had sliced his head open in the fall or if Tom had torn the scalp when he had taken a hunk of Sam's hair. Possibly both.
"Sam, are you alright?" Brady asked.
"Yeah." He blinked. "Brady. Thanks, man. Where the hell were you?"
He coughed low and ragged.
"You disappeared all of a sudden, took me a minute to make it around the back of the house to find you, dude."
"Where are they?" Sam blinked red rimmed eyes and peered into the darkness.
Brady looked up. They were both gone. So was the girl. She's probably darted off like a frightened rabbit the moment she'd gotten the chance.
Sam stood up shakily, his shoes squeaked as he slipped a little on the deck. Brady caught him under the arms. "Woah. Easy sailor. Don't drown in the shallow end."
Sam wiped his nose with a sleeve. "Drowning in the Shallow End should be the name of my autobiography."
Brady snorted in amusement, although he knew that if anyone had been thrown into the deep end at at young age, it had been Sam Winchester. Thrown in The Deep End would have been more apropos.
"Where's the girl?" Sam asked, pushing off of Brady and attempting to climb over the fallen fence and up the slight incline. He went down on his knee once and Brady picked him up by the arm and hauled him up.
The lights flicked on inside the house. Brady looked up. "Shit, Sam. We gotta get out of here."
He dragged Sam stumbling out of the yard and into the cover of darkness before the kid had regained his bearings. "Let's get you home and let's avoid getting arrested tonight, okay?"
Sam nodded, then coughed raggedly and spit out more mucous.
"Sam you are gross as hell right now."
"Sorry," Sam panted.
The demon took him home to patch up.
Sam lay sideways on the couch with an ice pack tucked behind him. Brady mopped up the mess of blood from his forehead. "Sam..." he grabbed the lamp, which dimmed for a second and moved the light closer so he could illuminate Sam's scalp. "Oh my god. Buy a new bulb for this freaking thing already."
"I don't live here anymore. You buy it," Sam muttered.
"You and your logic." Brady retorted. His fingers traced Sam's scalp and Sam winced, sucking in a sharp breath.
"Stay still."
"It stings."
"No shit, Sherlock." Brady forcibly tilted Sam's head. "Goddammit, move your head so I can see."
"You have a terrible bedside manner."
Brady smirked. "Good thing I'm not going to be a doctor then. I doubt if the lab rats are going to care about my bedside manner."
Sam stiffened under his touch. "Doesn't that bother you at all?"
"What?" Brady asked absently. "This might need stitches. You bashed this pretty good, man."
"Torturing small animals for science."
Brady snorted. "Sam. They're rats."
"But they use other animals too. Beagles and monkeys. I kind of think it would bother me."
"Well do we just let everyone die then because we can't hurt a dog?"
Sam was quiet for a minute. "I'm not saying that. I'm just saying I'm surprised the ethical problem doesn't weigh on you just a little."
"Stop talking philosophy when you're concussed, man."
He released Sam's head and grabbed the Clippers from his med kit. "I need to shave the area."
Sam picked his head up, eyes round. "Oh, come on. It's not that bad."
Brady shook his head. "With that mop no one is gonna notice an inch-wide bald patch in the back, dude."
"I will," Sam muttered.
"Well tough." He turned them on and pushed on the back of Sam's head. He went with it and squinted his eyes shut as Brady expertly maneuvered the electric clippers.
"Why the long hair anyway, Benji? You'd look good with a nice haircut."
Sam shrugged. "My dad was ex-military. I guess it always rubbed me the wrong way to clip my hair short." In truth perhaps it felt like something Sam could control even if it was minuscule. His body. His choice. His passive rebellion.
The electric buzz went silent and Brady swabbed the wound with iodine. "Okay." He let go of Sam's head and grabbed a wickedly curved needle. Sam's jaw went tight. Nothing new to him. He was sure Brady would have more skilled hands than Dean. Although Dad had been competent enough to not even leave visible scars the majority of of the time.
The thought made his throat tighten. He cleared it.
Brady's fingers were on him again. "Okay, Sam. Hold still."
Sam felt the weird pinch and pull of the thread and needle on skin. Brady laid a row of three neat stitches and cut the thread.
"Done."
Sam let out a relived huff.
"That's gonna ache later."
"My whole body is going to ache later."
"True." Brady gave him a devilish smile. "That's only fun when it's from sex."
Sam huffed. "You sound more like my brother every day."
Brady peeled off his white latex gloves and threw them in the garbage. "Might want to sleep on your stomach for a few days."
Sam looked at him, unaware of the bruise forming on his face. "That will help my ribs."
"Complain. complain. Sleep here tonight."
Brady left the room. Sam was annoyed that he'd left the pocketed oxycodone pills hidden in his desk at his dorm.
Thank you Michele, ScarletandSage, NobodytheStormCrow, Sallyannerenee, ncsupernatfan, Dom Darkwolf, ShadowhuntingDD.
