Lost, Found, Protect and Heal

Chapter Two

"He sees me, asshole. Now ask yourself how worried you really should be."

Agent Clegg had been sneering down at his helpless captive, enjoying that, even now, the boy still seemed to have some hope that help would come for him. He'd been about to dig the tip of the bloody filet knife deeper into the corner of Sam's eye only to freeze at not only the sound of the icy cold steel voice of one pissed-off Dean Winchester but also the sound of the .45 Colt that was cocked once it was pressed into the back of his neck.

"Step back, drop the blade, and if you so much as think of nicking my brother in the process, I will do so much worse to you than you have to him already." Dean's growl was pure pissed-off big brother with another even darker side of him barely held in check just below the surface.

Dean had combed thru most of the old warehouse as quickly as he could while still trying to make sure he wasn't missing anything or anyone that could be a threat to Sam later on once he located his brother. He had gotten Donna's text that she'd located her niece and Clegg's pal, but had simply texted back a terse reply to tell her to remain where she was for the moment since the hunter knew Donna's focus would be on her scared niece, and that's where she needed to be. He also didn't want the often still naïve sheriff to see what he feared he might find once he located Sam and his kidnapper.

There was a muffled sound from down another dark and dank corridor that had him breaking into a run, but it was the next sound that had Dean slowing down to allow the hunter in him to take control over the often rash older brother.

Hearing his brother scream, muffled but still in agony, went right through him, and Dean could feel another side of him, the side that he'd buried since hell, brush the surface. Pissed off, protective older brother was there, but as soon as he opened the heavy unlocked steel door to step into the small room to see and smell what he did, Dean no longer was certain which side of him would win control.

A quick look showed Dean the laptop was still running as it broadcasted the scene of Sam being tortured to the live feed. The hunter had plans to deal with that, but first, as he stepped closer, he knew he had other matters to deal with first, namely, getting the bragging bastard away from his brother.

Dean's lips had just quirked up in a wry smile at hearing Clegg tell Sam that he was the last thing the man was worried about or that Sam should expect help from. The hunter wasn't sure what had caused his barely conscious and clearly in shock brother to look up, but Dean knew the second that Sam saw him. Their eyes locked, and the silent communication that came as naturally for them as talking formed an invisible lifeline between them that Sam clung to through his pain. Dean gave Sam a small reassuring nod to say that he had it handled and that he was safe, and that was enough for Sam.

Pressing the barrel of his Colt against Clegg's neck as he cocked it got the man's attention, but still Dean's eyes didn't leave where the man still had the tip of his knife pressing into the corner of Sam's eye as he gave his warning about stepping back.

Dean had been in this position before. He could almost tell the man was thinking of using Sam as a bartering chip or hurting him. "Step back, Clegg," he instructed again and applied more pressure to the barrel of his Colt as he did so as to emphasize his point. "You were real big on bragging how I was the last person you were worried about. Well, turn around and face me now, big man."

"You'll just kill me either way, so maybe I should pluck your brother's eye out or jab this knife up through his jaw into his brain just for good measure." Clegg shot a smirk down at a glassy-eyed, in-shock Sam, but frowned when he felt a razor sharp blade touch his own throat in addition to the Colt that hadn't wavered.

"Oh, I'm killing you, asshole. The only question you have to decide on - and I'm borrowing this next phrase from the good sheriff from Minnesota - is will you die quick or slow?" Dean met the federal agent's faltering bravado with the one smirk he used that never failed to piss off demons, monsters, and angels alike (thus earning him more than a few beat-downs along the way). "Step away from my brother right now, and I'll kill you quickly. If you do what you're thinking and you so much as nick him again with that blade, then I'll show you what 40 goddamn years in hell learning from a master of torture has taught me! You'll know pain a lot worse than what you just made Sam suffer." He smirked a bit more for effect, knowing if he baited the man that he could get him away from Sam. "Your choice."

"Bastard!" Clegg hated to be showed up by anyone, especially a smart-ass hunter. He'd worked too long, too hard for the last 12 years to make this operation a success. He'd killed more than one fellow agent who had gotten too close to revealing his part in it to let two arrogant hunters ruin it or take him down now.

Deciding he'd finish with Sam once his brother had been dealt with, Clegg decided to use Dean's closeness as a way to get the upper hand. He went to thrust the arm not holding the knife back with the intention to use an elbow to the gut to distract Dean and then slash with the filet knife that he'd just jerked away from Sam's eye so he could whirl and slash only to grunt when his elbow hit air as the hunter had shifted his body away agilely as if expecting the attack.

"Dude, I was trained to fight by an ex-Marine. I learned how to fight and how to fight dirty, and I've been mixing it up with super-strength monsters pretty much my whole life. Give it up, man. More importantly, you touched the one person who you never should have, and that pisses me off because no one, human or monster, demon or angel, touches what belongs to me and lives to brag about it." Dean growled, shifting his upper body more to the side to easily avoid the furious man's lunge.

Years of training with John Winchester, as well as the years of hunting on his own or with Sam and surviving a year in Purgatory, had given Dean an agility and skill set that very few others possessed. He could almost tell what Clegg was going to do and had already shifted away to avoid the initial elbow strike that had been meant to distract him for the knife slash.

Stepping back, Dean slipped his gun back into its holster under his jacket but kept the demon-killing blade that he'd picked up from where he'd noticed Clegg had tossed Sam's jacket, holster, and gun and the knife. "You made one mistake when you grabbed Sam. You made a huge mistake by what you've done to him. Your last mistake was not making sure I was dead before making mistakes 1 and 2." He met the furious eyes of the other man while letting his lips curl up into a deadly smile that very few people had ever seen and lived to talk about. He raised his other hand to motion with his fingers as if in invitation. "Bring it, jackass."

Allowing Clegg to lunge invited the risk of danger, but, in Dean's mind, the farther away from where Sam was still trapped he could get the man, the better it was.

It was clear the fed had some skill, but he was also angry and overconfident, both things making him sloppy when he lunged with the intent to use the hunter's concern for his brother to get a surprise punch in to his gut and then use the filet knife in his fist to slit his throat.

Despite the anger he felt, as well as the burning need to get to Sam, Dean was able to keep his cool in the fight. He played the song and dance that Clegg seemed to expect him to by allowing the man to get in close but never close enough to actually land a punch or use the blade on him.

The piece of Dean that both hell and purgatory created wanted to draw this out. That side wanted to do to Clegg what he'd done to Sam only with a lot more skill, but it was a weak sound from the table that reminded Dean that he couldn't allow that side control. His badly injured and in-shock younger brother needed him more than he needed to make Clegg bleed or beg like he'd so badly wanted to hear Sam beg.

Stopping in mid-move, he caught the wrist that held the knife while using his fist and the bottom of the demon blade to slam into Clegg's face. Dean felt the satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage as the man's nose broke and gave the wrist a hard twist until he heard the blade drop and Clegg scream as his wrist broke in the hunter's grasp.

"W-wait! Stop!" he gasped as he dropped to the cement floor, blood dripping from his broken nose and trying to cradle his broken wrist. He looked up at the oddly calm hunter, but could easily see the silent rage in deep glittering green eyes. "Don't…don't kill me, and I'll give you half the money for…ugh!" He was cut off by another blow that almost laid him out flat on the floor.

"I don't want your bloody money, Clegg. I don't want it, but I will make sure it goes to the families of your other victims who will never know where their sons and daughters, husbands or wives have disappeared to, because you sure as hell also won't be needing it," Dean said, looking down at the man with a cold look before glancing at the knife in his hand, making his choice in that instant. "Game's over. You lose."

The Colt had reappeared in Dean's hand in the second it took Clegg to blink, and then the only sound in the room was the report of the weapon going off as a single round struck the man in the head. It was a quicker end than Dean would have liked, but he knew there were more important things he needed to tend to. "Sammy!"

Whirling, Dean bolted back across the room but took a second to stare into the camera that had still been recording this whole time and seeing the scrolling comments that had now turned to shouts and curses that the bidders' food source was clearly about to come to an end.

Taking a step closer to the camera, the hunter knelt down to be sure he got his point across. "Hey creature-features," he smirked a bit more before his face and voice went hard. "In case you haven't figured it out, your meal supply is closed. But before I go, I just want to give all of you out there bidding and having a good ol' time while that jackass tortured and bled my brother, as well as all of his other victims, a heads up…"

A sound from behind him had Dean standing so he could move back, his hand going flat on Sam's chest in a way that he knew would be familiar to his brother, but he kept his eyes on the camera so those still watching could see him. "All of your screen names, ISP providers, credit cards, and whatever else you used to log in have been saved to his server. You might have thought all of this time that you were safe in your little lives because Sam and I and other hunters out there didn't even know about you. Well, guess what? I know about you now, and so will every other hunter out there, so I suggest you start looking over your shoulder. Bye."

The Colt fired again, striking the camera and destroying the live feed. Dean's hand slapped the cover of the laptop closed while he was shoving the weapon back under his jacket, and then he turned his full attention to his barely conscious brother.

"Sammy! Hey! You still with me, little brother?" Dean's eyes gave a quick look at the number of wounds Sam had and, for a second, wished he had made Clegg suffer more, but then he was too busy unhooking the bit gag first with a low growl.

Dean knew of anything Sam hated or feared, one of the worst was gags. Those were the one thing that Dean still held back from using when they played a bit rougher than usual, because he knew of Sam's past and understood what his brother could or couldn't tolerate. The bit gag was one that Sam could only tolerate for a short time, and the one they used wasn't this thick and the straps not as wide, so it infuriated him to feel the drying tears on Sam's pale, bruised face, as well as the bloody welts where the strap bit into his skin.

Carefully working the bit out of his brother's mouth, Dean hurled it over his shoulder with a low curse before starting to use his fingers to work the joints of Sam's jaw to ease the ache as it closed, but still heard a low whimper as well as something that had him leaning closer as he heard it repeated with what strength Sam still had left. "Dean…"

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm here. I've got you now and I'm going to take care of you." Dean had to work to keep his voice or hands from shaking as he heard Sam's whispered low mumbles that only years of growing up with his at various times injured, sick, or drunk brother allowed him to translate. "Hang on while I get you loose and find something to stop this bleeding."

Brushing his fingers back through Sam's sweat-soaked hair, Dean followed the light touch with an equally light brush of his lips over Sam's forehead and immediately felt the low-grade fever. "Hang on, Sammy."

This time Dean's fingers did shake as they set to work on freeing the heavy straps holding his brother's wrists, ankles and chest to the table. He saw the small containers of blood set to the side and knew that Clegg had bled Sam for his blood to sell to vampires, but what concerned him, aside from that blood, were the numerous bleeding cuts on Sam's arms and chest as well as the actual raw sections where the man had skinned his brother.

"Sonuvabitch!" he fought his temper, as well as his own guilt for not getting to Sam sooner, as he finally got the first strap off of his brother's wrists only to see raw, bloody skin underneath from where Sam had fought the restraints. "Hey! Easy there. Stay still until I get the others off of…Sammy? What is it?" Dean had to be quick to grab the weakly flailing hand that moved as soon as it was free.

At first he'd thought it was Sam's reaction to still being held down or needing some kind of connection to reassure himself that he was safe, but instead of letting Dean catch and hold onto his hand, Sam struggled to reach out as if looking to touch his brother's face instead.

Realizing what Sam was doing, Dean instantly understood what might be happening, and he moved back up so he could place Sam's cold, weak fingers on his face while watching as Sam's eyes struggled to open enough to see him. "It's me, Sam. It's Dean," he reassured his badly injured sibling.

Dean waited until Sam blinked enough that he thought he could actually see him, feeling his shaking fingertips shifting down over Dean's jaw and slowly the hunter smiled, allowing Sam to see his smile but also to see his teeth as if understanding what Clegg probably told Sam. "I'm me, baby boy," he reassured Sam in a softer voice while leaning closer and resting his forehead against Sam's as he repeated the words again. "I'm me, Sammy."

Sam fought to bring his brother into focus, since, by that time, he knew he'd lost a lot of blood, and the shock and pain were pushing him to accept the bliss of unconsciousness. But before he could allow himself to sink under, he had to reassure himself of one thing. He knew Dean was there with him, so he knew he was safe, but one thing Clegg kept saying was huge in the younger Winchester's mind, so before he drifted under, he needed to know for sure. Sam felt Dean's hand catch his and place it on his face, but it wasn't until his brother smiled that Sam knew it was all good.

There was no strength to speak, not that Sam thought he could since his tongue and mouth both felt as dry as a desert, but he thought he still made a sound when he heard Dean use the one nickname that only Dean could use for him and felt his brother's forehead touch his as he kept whispering the reassurance that it was him. Only then did Sam start to allow himself to relax and begin to drift under into unconsciousness.

Not quite able to let go, however, Sam struggled to open his eyes once again to watch as Dean worked to free him. He felt strong fingers shake as they held his free hand and tried to close his own hand but knew he was too weak when the muscles wouldn't cooperate. "… … De…"

The use of the shortened form of his name told Dean that he had to work quickly to get Sam free and out of this damn place. Looking up, he watched as Sam tried to fight to stay conscious, feeling the pulse in the wrist of the hand he held jump before starting to weaken. "Hey, I've got this, Sammy. I've got you. I need you to rest for me now. Just let go. I'll take care of you," he said, reaching up with his free hand to lightly touch Sam's cheek, offering a soothing smile as Sam let his face turn into his touch but still fought his fluttering lashes. "Sam, I swear that I'll be with you when you wake up, and even if it's at a hospital, I'll get you out of there as soon as it's safe. But right now, little brother, close your eyes and sleep. Your big brother's got you," he promised in a voice thick with more emotion than Dean normally would have allowed to show, but he understood how close he'd come this time to losing his brother.

Sam's dried and split lips moved without words, but knew Dean understood when he felt his hand squeezed and heard his brother's soft "I love you too" replied before darkness finally overtook him and Sam slipped under with a silent prayer to whoever might still be listening that he hadn't lost too much blood and would wake up.

Waiting until he felt Sam's body go limp, his fingers relaxing in his grip, Dean slowly blew out a shaky breath that did nothing to relieve his own worries about the amount of blood Sam had lost as well as the severity of his other injuries.

He fought the other straps until he finally had Sam free and quickly used his brother's already ruined shirt to rip more long pieces off to use as makeshift bandages to try to slow the bleeding on both arms where Clegg had bled Sam. Dean knew the cuts needed more help than he could give there, and he cringed as he took a better look at the pieces of raw skin but gave a silent 'thank you' that Clegg really hadn't known what he was doing there. Dean knew the correct way to skin a human and was grateful Sam hadn't suffered that agony.

Feeling his phone buzzing, a quick glance told the hunter that it was Donna. He debated his few choices before making the one he hated to make. "Hey," he said after he answered and immediately had Donna demanding to know what was happening. "I've got him and Clegg is dead," he glanced to where the dead man now lay and hoped briefly, that whatever level of hell he landed in, that he'd suffer even a little of what his victims had. "Call an ambulance, Donna. Wendy needs one, I'm sure, and Sammy's…he's hurt too bad for me to patch him up at the hotel or the backseat. Make the call and let's get the hell out of this place."

TBC