Title: Now I Know My ABC's
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: A hurt/comfort romp through the alphabet, one letter at a time from A to Z. Each chapter is a stand-alone one shot. There is hurt, comfort, angst, humor, feels and all around fun.
Author's Note: As the last chapter was so light-hearted, gonna change it up a bit and this one's definitely darker fair. This is post 3x13 "Ghostfacers" with mentions from 3x07 "Fresh Blood".
Delays on this chapter were brought to you by two people being gigantic assholes at work and quitting without notice leaving only two of us to cover seven days worth of shifts. *head/desk*
Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.
**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~
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C is for Claustrophobia -
Dean glanced over his shoulder at his little brother, smirked and looked back to the dart board. "Hope you got your wallet ready, Sammy."
Sam rolled his eyes. "I never should have convinced you to throw darts."
Dean chuckled and lined up his last dart. He bit his bottom lip in concentration, pulled his arm back, and made the toss. The little dart flew through the air and thunked into the bullseye at the center of the board with finality. "Oh, yeah!" He threw his arms up and turned around to his brother, victorious and ready to gloat. "Twenty bucks, bitch. Cough it up."
"Dammit." Sam dug in his back pocket and came out with a twenty. He held it up so Dean could snatch it out of his hand and grabbed his beer and smiled. "You're a sore winner, you know that, right?"
Dean nodded and tucked the money away after giving it a theatrical kiss. "Yep. Big brother prerogative. So, you wanna try your luck at pool?"
Sam looked on fondly while Dean waggled his brows and finished his beer. "Uh, no. I think I'm done losing for the night."
Dean snorted and looked around the bar. It was more empty than full and there weren't even any good prospects for a fun night left in the place. The few attractive women had left much earlier. "Yeah, what the hell. I could sleep. Come on." He slapped a hand to Sam's shoulder and gave him a push toward the door when he stood.
"Knock it off, jerk," Sam said but without any real heat. A pang of sorrow hit him as they crossed the bar that, in two short months, he wouldn't have this anymore. He scrubbed a hand quickly over his face to hide the sudden swell of panic and sadness and pulled the door open.
Dean wasn't an idiot. He saw the sudden tightening across his little brother's shoulders and the jerky motion that said he was trying to control himself. He knew exactly what Sam was thinking. Dean was thinking it himself, but he pushed it away and forced himself to smile instead. There was no other choice and they'd been having a good night, dammit. He wasn't going to let either of them ruin the good mood they had going that night for a change. "Ok, how about some poker back at the room?" He heard Sam's chuckle and saw his brother shake his head, but Dean knew he'd get his way and probably the rest of the cash in Sam's wallet. "Might even let ya' win a couple hands."
Sam looked over his shoulder and arched his brow. "You know I have to kick your ass now."
Dean snorted a laugh. "As if. Dude, you couldn't..." he broke off when Sam jerked and slapped a hand to his neck. He laughed again. "Aw, did a nasty mosquito take a bite outta you, sasquatch?"
Sam pulled his hand away with a frown and turned to look at Dean. "Uh... No." He held out his hand.
"What the hell is that?" Dean's sense of something wrong flared to life as he looked at the small, metal dart in Sam's hand.
"I... I, uh..." Sam swayed. The ground seemed to be tilting under him and Dean was blurring in his vision. "Dean."
"Crap. Sammy?" Dean caught Sam's elbow trying to steady him and grunted when something sharp bit into the side of his own neck. He put his free hand up and came away with an identical dart to the one that had struck Sam. "Son of a bitch. Easy." He was forced to slow Sam's descent to the parking lot as Sam's legs gave way. Dean eased him to the ground, leaning him against the car beside them and then drew his gun.
"Whoever the hell you are, GET out here!" Dean shouted into the night. He glanced down and watched Sam's eyes roll up and close; out for the count. "Come on!" He gritted his teeth as his arms began to shake. His hands wavered, the barrel shaking as he lost his balance. Dean staggered to the side and then went to a knee beside his brother. "No," he snarled and fought to keep his eyes open even as his vision began to tunnel into blackness.
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Dean groaned. His head was pounding and his eyes felt as though they were weighted down with sand bags. There was a fog hanging over his thoughts, and he struggled to clear them and remember what happened. First he remembered the bar, playing darts with Sam and owning him. He remembered leaving and trying to convince Sam to play poker. Dean's brows drew together as his breathing sped up with the memory of the darts striking them.
"S'mmy?" Dean slurred and forced his head up. He cracked his eyes open and realized he couldn't move his arms. He was tied tightly to an uncomfortable chair. He blinked in the glare of the single light above him and tried to clear his vision.
"You're a hard man to track down, Dean Winchester."
Dean jerked his head over to his left at the sound of the strange voice and glared at the fuzzy outline of a man a few feet away. "S'm'brother?"
"You know it took us two months to find you?"
Dean watched the man step slowly out into the light and stared angrily up at him. He shook his head and swallowed a couple times. "Don't... don' know you. The hell d'you want me for?"
"We've never met." The man knelt in front of Dean and gave him a pitying look. "And we weren't after you."
Dean's mouth opened in surprise and no small amount of fear as the man nodded and rose. "What the hell's that s'upposed to mean?" he demanded as the man pulled open the heavy, wooden door and stopped. "Where's m'brother? If you've done anything..."
"We don't hurt humans, Dean," the man said simply and shrugged before looking back to meet the elder Winchester's eyes. "Problem is, your brother ain't been human in his whole life, from what I understand. We're going to do you and the world a favor. You just sit tight now. We'll let you go when we're done. Got no call to hurt you. You're innocent."
"Hey! HEY!" Dean bellowed as the door clanged closed with finality and he was left alone. Fear and rage did the job of burning the lingering effects of the drug out of his system and he strained against his bonds. "You sons of bitches! Let me out! SAM!"
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He couldn't breathe. That was the first thought that passed through Sam's sluggish mind. The air seemed close and heavy as he panted. Sam opened his eyes at last, blinking slowly while confusion and pain overwhelmed him in the darkness.
"Dean?" Sam's voice was scratchy and hoarse. The memory of what had happened in the bar parking lot flooded back to him. He jerked his limbs, trying to stand and groaned as his head struck something hard.
"Wha'?" Sam pulled one hand up to his head and found cold bars. He tried to stretch his aching legs out and again ran into bars. "S'goin' on? Hello?"
Sam gasped and slammed his eyes closed, covering them with his hand as a glaring light came on over his head and blinded him. He listened to the sound of a door opening and footsteps moving near him, several sets, and then they stopped. The room fell into silence again except for his labored breathing. After his eyes adjusted to the light, Sam opened them again and a sickening feeling settled into his gut. He was squeezed into a cage made of sturdy iron bars that couldn't be more than four feet square. His knees were up by his chest, his ankles crossed and someone had taken his shirts off, leaving him bare-chested in the damp room. Three men stood around him. They were simply watching him with cold faces, like they were observing an insect rather than a man they had caged.
Sam sucked in a short breath and then another in an effort to stay calm and take stock of the situation. He needed to know what was happening and, more importantly, where Dean was. "Who're you? Wha'..." Sam swallowed and tried to wet his dry mouth. Whatever drug they had used to take him down left him feeling like he had chewed on cotton balls. "Where's m'brother?"
"Dean is fine."
Sam twisted his head and watched the speaker move until he was more in Sam's line of sight. "Where is he?" Sam demanded and spoke slowly so the words were clear.
"He's safe. We aren't interested in hurting humans, Sam." The man nodded at the sudden look of surprise on Sam's face. "You can call me George if you want. But we're here for you."
Sam scowled and tried not to be hurt by the intimation that he wasn't human. It wasn't as though he had never wondered all on his own if he was some sort of monster thanks to the plans of one dead demon and being resurrected by another. "What do you want? I don't know anything."
"This isn't an interrogation, Sam." George crossed his arms and looked down at their prisoner. "We're on a mission from God. We're protecting the world."
"From what?" Sam asked angrily.
"From you, Sam."
Sam jerked in surprise and stared up at him. "What the hell are you talking about? Who are you people?"
"We're the faithful, Sam." George waved to the other men in the room. "Our brother, Kubrick, came to us with the word of God's wrath delivered to him by another who saw your evil for what it truly was. That wrath is on you, Sam. A lost son of Satan, protected by demons and born of them." His voice grew with fervor as he spoke and pinned Sam with his gaze. "It is our calling to end their unholy plan, and the only way to do that is with your death. You know you're not human. I know you do. You're a monster, Sam, and we're going to stop you."
Sam's mouth hung open in shock while fear coiled tightly in his stomach, making him swallow to keep it down. Chills raced along his skin as he looked up at George and realized just how screwed he really was. He shook his head slowly. "I don't... who's Kubrick?"
George gave a small smile. "He is... was... a man of the faith. Like us. He was brought the word of God's wrath for you from another man I think you'll know better. His name is Gordon Walker."
Sam's mouth fell open again and then he remembered who Kubrick was - one of the two men who had tied him up and tried to kill him while he and Dean had been after the rabbit's foot. "Gordon was crazy! He was nuts, alright? You don't understand!"
"Was?" George's expression darkened and he stared down at Sam, taking a step closer. "We already know about Kubrick. Gordon called to tell us how you hunted and murdered him."
"What?" Sam exclaimed in dismay. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"So Gordon is dead as well," George studied Sam's face for a moment and felt more anger. "You killed him too, didn't you?"
"He was a vampire!" Sam shouted and slammed his hands against the bars over his head in frustration. "If your pal Kubrick is dead, then it was Gordon that killed him. He was turned!"
"And yet, we have only your word for that." George shook his head. "The death of another righteous man won't save you, Sam. If anything, it proves to me that you need to die before more good men fall before your evil."
"You're crazy," Sam said at last and shook his head. "As crazy as he was."
"You'll confess before you die, Sam." George nodded to the other men. "You will lay out for us your sins, confess yourself a monster, and your tainted soul will pass from this world and leave it safe."
"Jesus," Sam breathed fearfully. He strained against the too-small cage surrounding him, but it was no good. It was too solid. "Don't do this, please. It's murder."
"No, Sam. This is holy justice." George smiled again. "Justice for Kubrick and Walker and for the world that would be destroyed if you're allowed to live." He nodded to the men behind Sam.
Sam's voice erupted from him in a howl of pain as something jabbed into his back on either side of his spine. An electrical current tore through his body. He spasmed uncontrollably inside the cage. It seemed to go on forever and when it finally stopped, Sam's body collapsed as well as it could inside the cage. His muscles twitched. He could feel fresh pain from where parts of him had slammed into the bars, and his chest burned as he tried to catch his breath.
"Confess," George ordered softly and knelt beside Sam. "We don't have to go any further than this, Sam. It can end right now. Confess."
"You... you're... cr-crazy." Sam glared weakly at the man. He smiled then, faintly and closed his eyes. "Dean... s'gonna kill you."
"Maybe," George shrugged. "I think he's going to understand eventually. In fact," George leaned forward and waited until Sam's opened and met his again. "I think it's going to be a relief for him to not have the weight of your sins hanging around his neck, don't you?"
Sam flinched and looked away. That one hit a little too close to home. It was his fault, after all, that Dean was headed to hell soon. If he had just been faster, been paying more attention, if he hadn't let himself be taken in the first place...
"There it is." George smiled. "Guilt. See, Sam? You know we're right. You'll confess."
"No." Sam shook his head and closed his eyes once more. He would hold on and fight these bastards for as long as he had to. He could hold on, because he knew Dean would come. With the faith of a ten year old in his big brother, he knew. Sam spat out between the bars at George and smiled.
George sighed and wiped the spittle from his chin as he stood. "Hit him again."
On the other side of the building, Dean strained at his bonds until his wrists bled as his little brother's agonized cries echoed from beyond the door again. "Sam!"
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Sam jerked awake as frigid water fell on his head and down his body, choking him as he coughed and gagged. He tried to lift his head, but it was too much effort and he let his forehead thump into the bars again instead. He was slightly turned and twisted in his cage, tilted a bit to his right side. Somehow, it was even more uncomfortable than where he'd started, and he wouldn't have thought that possible.
"Back with us, Sam?"
Sam shuddered at the sound of George's voice. He hated that voice. He cracked his eyes open and watched George's shoes step into his field of vision. "Not... gonna... go... go to hell."
"You know this can all stop, Sam." George knelt down and had to tilt his head to be able to see the young man's face. Sam's body had seized itself into an ever more pretzel-like position with each touch of the cattle prods. "Confess and I promise you I'll make the pain stop. It'll all stop forever."
"N-no." Sam shivered harder as the icy water and the cool air on his bare upper body conspired to make him even more miserable. He supposed he could add hypothermia to his list of complaints, or maybe he was going into shock. He had no idea how long they had been trying to make him 'confess'. Each time he passed out, they woke him up, and there were no windows in the little room; just the bright light above him that was beginning to make his eyes burn each time he opened them. He was so thirsty.
"It doesn't get any better from here, Sam." George shook his head and held out a hand. One of the other men handed him a cattle prod and stepped back.
"George, there's water all over him and the cage now. If you hit him with that..."
"His pain's what we're doing here, Ron." George looked up at his fellow faithful and scowled. "If you're developing a weak stomach for the Lord's work, then I suggest you step out and let the rest of us handle it." He paused and quirked a brow. "And we'll all have a nice long chat with you later about having the strength of God's convictions."
Ron trembled and shook his head. "No. No, I'm good. Just didn't want him to die without confessing his sins is all."
George nodded and turned back to Sam. He lowered the cattle prod and tapped it on the floor until Sam's eyes opened and blearily focused on it. "What do you say, Sam? Confess."
"N-never." Sam let his eyes fall closed and waited. He felt the cold tip of the cattle prod a moment before a new wave of agony shot through him. He screamed, distantly feeling his arms and legs slam uselessly into the bars, and then a new smell intruded - the smell of singed flesh and something burning. A moment later, the pain stopped and Sam collapsed with a muffled sob. Air was tight in his chest, and he felt tears he was helpless to stop coursing down his cheeks. He cracked his eyes open and it took him a moment to understand that the denim of his jeans covering his legs was steaming lightly with smoke from the electrical charge.
"Well, he didn't die," George said with a smile and handed the cattle prod back to Ron. "Now, Sam. I want you to understand. We're not doing this because we like it. We're here because it's the right thing to do. You have too many victims for us to just let you walk away." He watched Sam's head shake minutely in denial. "No? Sam, your own brother is on your list. I mean, because of you, hell owns his soul! Dean is just your latest victim. He's going to burn for eternity because of you. You know we're not hurting him. He's an innocent. He has to be protected." George sighed and showed the cattle prod to Sam again. "Protected from you, Sam. You're not his brother. Not really. Maybe you were once, but those demons, they made you into something else and now Dean is going to pay the price for that."
Sam shook his head, but George's words were opening the wounds that guilt had torn into his soul anew. It was his fault. He knew that. Dean was going to die, and every day that ticked away toward the end of his brother's year only made Sam more desperate and more hopeless. He would do anything to save Dean; anything. Even die if that was what it took. If he knew that his death would void his brother's deal, Sam would eat his own gun with a smile and Dean would just have to live with it. Live, not die screaming and spend eternity being torn apart.
"Just confess, Sam," George said quietly. He could sense the weakening of Sam's resolve. He could see the guilt moving across the young man's expressive face like a storm cloud. Clearly, his brother's imminent demise was the way into Sam's blackened soul. "Let Dean go knowing the truth. Give him that, at least. I can't stop him dying. No one can. But you can let him go knowing the world will be a better place, a safer place, without you in it."
Tears leaked from Sam's eyes again as he clenched them shut. He strained against his unnatural position, cramped in the cage, to no avail. It frightened him that, as the torture went on, George began to make more and more sense; and, really, he wasn't wrong about Dean... or Sam. Sam could understand it from George's point of view. Sam had brought nothing but misery to everyone he loved since the time he was six months old. They all died. Everyone died for the love of him - his mom, Jess, their dad who had believed Dean could protect Sam better... could save him, Madison, and soon even Dean would fall victim to the dark nightmare that was Sam's life.
"Dean," he whispered brokenly and flinched when he felt the end of a cattle prod press against his chest. "S-stop."
"Confess, Sam." George leaned in, pressing the prod harder into Sam's flesh. The boy's back, sides and arms were covered in raw burns from the kiss of the cattle prods. The addition of the water had only heightened the effect, and there was a large, growing blister of burnt skin from the last place he had used it. Sam was breaking. It wouldn't be long. "Let me bring Dean in here and you tell him the truth. Can you do that for me, Sam? Just tell your brother the truth and I'll make all of this stop."
Sam listened to the calm, reasonable voice that he hated and latched on to the one thing that didn't hurt; Dean. George would let him see Dean. "Dean." Sam sucked in a short, sharp breath, unable to take a deep one with the way he was scrunched together. He bit his bottom lip and nodded.
A wide smile spread across George's face and he pulled the prod away from Sam. "That's it, Sam. You're doing the right thing. You just wait here now. Boys? Let's go get Dean."
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Dean heaved for breath as he took a break from trying to free his hands. His wrists were torn up enough that he'd never hear the end of it from Sam. Dean swallowed hard with that thought and vowed that Sam would have the chance to chew him out for turning his wrists into burger meat. He had been listening to his little brother shout and scream for several hours now, and whatever mercy Dean had for humans was long gone. If he got the chance to off the sons of bitches torturing his little brother, well, he was going to earn his trip downstairs.
He started pulling again, leaning to his right in the chair as he'd found the most give in the ropes holding his left wrist. It wasn't much but it would be enough if he could just get his damn thumb to move. Dean gritted his teeth, tipped his head back and pulled furiously. Finally, his left thumb was popped out of joint by the pressure. Dean groaned, fighting to keep the sound quiet, and with a few more twists, his left hand slid in a wet, bloody slide out from the ropes holding it.
"Son of a bitch," he gasped and bent forward with the relief of having one hand free. "M'comin' Sammy." Dean reached over to his right hand and grabbed hold of his left thumb. He braced himself as much as he could and gave a short, sharp pull. The joint snapped back into place, and he felt the sting of pained tears in his eyes as he moved his left thumb gingerly. He didn't allow himself time to wallow in the pain; Sam couldn't afford it with whatever they were doing to him.
Dean started on the ropes binding his right wrist with the fury of desperation. He had just managed to loosen them, allowing him to tug his hand partially free when the door to his room was shoved open. "Son of a BITCH!"
"Damn, you are resourceful as hell," George observed as he took in his nearly escaped prisoner. He stepped aside and let Ron and another man into the room. He smiled as Dean all but snarled and threw a fist out at Ron as he got too close. "Calm down, Dean. We're taking you to your brother."
Dean stopped. He gave the arm of the man he had grabbed a last, strong twist, making the man grunt in pain and then let go. "Fine. Let's go." He sat back and waited as though he were conferring an honor on the men by not beating their asses while tied to a chair with only one arm free. His eyes, however, never left George's. "I'm gonna kill you," he said in a soft voice full of promise.
George began to smile, but it faded as he studied the sure knowledge in Dean Winchester's eyes. He felt the first thrum of fear and ruthlessly squashed it. "Untie him and let's go. Sam has a confession to make before we finish this."
"What confession?" Dean demanded and resisted the urge to break the nose of the man who untied his right hand. He stayed calm, though it was a monumental effort. He needed to get to Sam first, then the violence could start.
"You're brother's a monster, Dean." George watched his men release Dean and drag him to his feet. He tsked, seeing the state of the elder Winchester's wrists. "Done a number on yourself there. Hate to do it considering, but... cuffs."
Ron nodded and moved behind Dean, pulling a set of handcuffs from his pocket. "Hold still."
"You were saying?" Dean watched George while his wrists were bound behind him and ignored the fresh spikes of pain as the metal cuffs moved and caught on his broken, bleeding skin.
"Sam has to confess his sins before we can kill him." George did smile now. "He's agreed to confess them to you."
"Bullshit!" Dean spat and lurched forward a step in rage. The men caught hold of him and dragged him back. "He'd never give in to you and he's got no damn sins to confess! My brother's innocent!"
"He's demon spawn," George said succinctly and a bit of loathing oozed out into his voice. "The blood of the damned runs in his veins and the blood of the innocent is all over his hands, yours included."
"More bullshit." Dean glared at him. "You can't blame him for something that was done TO him when he was six months old! He's my brother and he's human and you are one delusional son of a bitch if you think I'm just gonna stand by while you kill him and thank you for it later!"
"We're wasting time." George pulled the door open all the way and stepped aside. "I think Sam's had long enough on his own to think now. He's ready. Let's go."
Dean let the men pull him forward and didn't fight. They were taking him where he needed to be and he could be patient until then. He carefully took hold of his left thumb with his right hand and then made a point of staggering sideways. The men yanked him upright again and Dean succeeded in pulling his left thumb back out of joint with them none the wiser.
"What have you been doing to him?" Dean asked and couldn't help the rage that bled into his voice. There was no hiding it. "'Cause at this point, whether I kill you quick or slow depends on that."
"You know we're going to kill him." George led the way down the wide hall. "We don't go easy on the monsters, Dean. And I know you've heard him."
"He's not a monster, but you are," Dean snarled.
"You'll understand once Sam confesses," George said surely. "I promise, Dean. He's not what you think he is. And when he's done, you'll be just as ready to put him down as we are."
"Never gonna happen." Dean glanced at the men on either side of him and noted the carefully blank expression on the man to his left. He was the weak link. Whatever they'd been doing to Sam, that was a man who wasn't entirely sure they were in the right anymore. "Sam's never done a damn thing his whole life but try to save people; save them from the monsters. He's the best damn person I've ever known. He's put his life on the line time and again for self-righteous pieces of shit like you, and he's never once wondered if he should. He just does it 'cause it's the right thing to do." Dean felt the grip of the man on his left loosen slightly as though he were truly listening. "So what the hell could he possibly have done that makes you think he deserves to be tortured and murdered? Huh? You tell me?"
"It's what he will do, Dean." George flicked a glance over his shoulder at the man and then turned back as they neared a door. "Not that he hasn't earned justice a dozen times over already for the deaths of the innocent. Even your life is going to be on his hands soon. He's seen the light. Sam's come to accept that he is a monster and he's ready to unburden his soul to you before we send him on. You be kind now. The boy's been through a lot today."
"You bastard," Dean growled it out as the men stopped and George opened the door. Words failed him for a moment as they walked him into the room, and even the breath in his lungs seemed to seize up and leave him dizzy with both fear and rage. The room was bare but for a far too small, metal-barred cage in the center of the floor, and stuffed inside it was all six and a half feet of his little brother. He was twisted and mashed against the bars, and Dean could see Sam's back shuddering as he fought to breathe inside the cage in spite of the way he was bent up. What really made Dean see red, though, were the cattle prods lying on the floor a few feet from the cage. Those and the clear burns that peppered his brother's bare back and arms.
"Sammy," Dean breathed out at last. He jerked his elbows away from the men holding him. "Get off me!" He kicked the instep of the man on his right, and he was free. Dean moved quickly around the cage, relieved that they were letting him and stopped when he found his brother's head. Dean dropped to his knees and ducked lower to try and get a better look.
"Sammy?" Dean wished he could free his hands and touch him but it wasn't safe to do that yet. "Come on, buddy. It's me. I'm here. Sam." He was rewarded a few moments later when he heard Sam's breathing pick up and his brother's head slowly lifted as his eyes cracked open. "Hey, little brother."
"Dean?" Sam felt fresh tears gather in his eyes and then fall as he looked at him.
"Hey. Come on, take it easy," Dean soothed as best he could and ignored the other men in the room. "You gotta try and breathe a little better than this, dude. Sound like an asthmatic."
Sam nodded and swallowed, trying to even out his panicked breathing, but it was a hopeless cause. He just didn't have the room to straighten his chest out and get a proper breath. "Gordon," he whispered, needing Dean to understand just how screwed he was and he saw Dean flinch in surprise. "They're... Gordon set 'em on us. On me."
Dean turned away from Sam slowly and let his eyes rake over the men until he met George's. "You came after my little brother like this on the word of that fucking lunatic?" His voice had risen to a shout at the end and Dean lurched to his feet. "The man put civilians in the line of fire! He took pot shots at Sam with a damn sniper rifle and nearly killed another woman doing it! He got turned into a damn vampire for cryin' out loud!" Dean stalked forward toward George and only the other two men grabbing hold of him stopped him from attacking. "You wanna know what he did then? He kidnapped a girl, turned her, and used her as bait to get to my brother. That sound like a guy firin' on all cylinders to you?"
George backed up defensively when one of Dean's feet flew out and landed a solid kick to his hip. "Ron, dammit! Hold on to him!"
Dean was breathing heavily, the rage thrumming through his veins and he glanced sideways at the man on his left. The same man and now he had a name for him. "You really down with this, Ron? Torturing and murdering an innocent man on the word of a guy who'd slit his own mama's throat if he thought it'd help him?"
"Don't talk to him," George said angrily. He rubbed a hand over his hip and moved carefully around Dean. "We're here about Sam. Whatever Gordon may have been at the end of his life, he was a man of God."
"My ass!" Dean yelled and pulled at the grip of the men holding him. "He didn't give a DAMN about God! If he came to you, it was because he figured you were all too damn head-in-the-sand stupid to know he was lying to you! Well, joke's on us! That bastard was right! You are!"
"Sam." George knelt down beside the younger Winchester and picked up a cattle prod.
"Get the fuck away from him!" Dean bellowed and jerked hard enough to stagger both men holding him, though as before, Ron's grip on him was the weaker of the two.
"Your brother's here, Sam. Just like I promised." George ignored the enraged shouts coming from Dean and focused on Sam. "It's time to confess. You need to tell your brother the truth now. Tell him everything, Sam. Tell him you're a monster."
"Sammy, don't! You're not!" Dean yelled and readied himself.
Sam heard Dean's voice; heard the anger and the fear in it, but most of all, he heard the underlying love that told him Dean had faith in him, even when he had none himself. He closed his eyes and swallowed with a throat gone tight with emotion. "No," he whispered it. "Not a monster." Sam opened his eyes and met the growing frown on George's face. "You are."
"Sam, I'm disappointed in you." George hefted the cattle prod and slid the end through the bars. "I thought we were past this. You're only making this harder on yourself. It's time to confess."
"Don't you do it!" Dean warned. The sound of Sam's voice raised in agony as his body thrashed helplessly inside the cage was the only signal Dean needed. He slipped his dislocated thumb out of the left handcuff along with his hand, shoved Ron into the wall, and turned on the other man. Dean slammed the heel of his hand into his nose and then swept his legs, sending him crashing to the floor senseless.
Dean spun, expecting Ron to be coming next and instead found the man sitting on the floor against the wall, taking himself out of the fight. Dean dismissed him and turned all that rage to George as the man rose from Sam's cage with the cattle prod held out before him. "You son of a bitch."
"Dean, we don't want to hurt you. You're an innocent in all this." George tried to speak reasonably, to appeal to Dean's rational side, but he could tell from the look of fury in the man's eyes that it wasn't working. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Oh, you won't," Dean promised darkly. He took a step forward and was ready when George lunged ahead with the long stick. Dean sidestepped the prod as it spat and sizzled with a live charge. He caught hold of the shaft, wrenched it free from George's grip with a twist, and then spun it. Dean jammed the prod into the man's stomach with a sense of righteous fury.
George screamed and crumpled to the floor in a twitching heap. Dean didn't let up. He kept the cattle prod against the man's skin and watched him suffer.
"Dean."
The sound of Sam's voice brought him back to himself and Dean looked over to find Sam watching him. He could read the look in Sam's eyes easily enough. Sam didn't want Dean to kill George; not because he thought George deserved to live, but because he didn't want Dean to have a human's blood on his hands.
"Don't," Sam gasped and watched some of the rage fade from his brother's eyes.
Dean clicked off the cattle prod and tossed it aside with a snarl of disgust. George stayed where Dean had left him, unconscious. He went back to the cage and knelt next to Sam's head. Dean put his hands through the bars, ignoring the clang as the dangling cuff on his right wrist went through them. "Sammy. Gonna get you outta here, ok?"
"There's a... there's a key."
Dean spun on his heels and looked at Ron as the man got slowly to his feet. "You got it?"
Ron nodded and dug in his pocket. He took a step toward them and then thought better of it. He tossed it to the floor beside Dean instead, and, after a moment, pulled the key to the handcuffs from his pocket and tossed that over as well. "I, uh... I really believed him, you know? I thought he was righteous. But this..." he waved a hand toward Sam and shook his head. "This isn't righteous. This is... I'm sorry. For my part in this, I'm sorry."
"How many more are there?" Dean asked as he picked up the key to the cuffs and tossed them away before grabbing the key to the cage and looking for the lock.
"It's on the far side, near his head," Ron supplied. "On the floor. The cage lifts up and over." He rubbed his hands together and sighed. "There's only one other guy. Pete. He'll be outside somewhere having a smoke. George... he hates that shit and, uh, Pete sneaks off to hide it from him."
Dean nodded and unlocked the heavy padlock keeping the cage in place. He looked up at Ron again. "There a car around here somewhere you got the keys to?"
Ron nodded and went to George. He cautiously rolled the man to his back, grateful that he was still unconscious, and reached into his pants pocket. He came back out with a distinctive key ring and tossed it to Dean.
"You drove my baby?" Dean asked angrily.
"That Impala of yours is parked just outside the south entrance." Ron pointed a thumb over his right shoulder. "Out this door, take a left, go up the stairs and left again. You can't miss it. Pete, he's on the other side of the building. You should, uh...you should be safe."
Dean slipped a hand into the cage and clasped Sam's cold, bare shoulder for a moment. "Sammy? I'm gonna get this off'a you now, but it's gonna suck." He saw the small nod Sam gave him and drew his hand back. Dean took a deep breath and lifted. The cage was a hell of a lot heavier than he'd thought it would be, and he grunted with the effort of lifting it. It moved slowly upward on a hinge in the floor at the other side of the structure, and he looked up in surprise when some of the weight vanished. Ron had finally found the courage to come closer and was pulling from the other side.
Sam let out a shout of pain as the cage slipped against and over him and he slumped out onto the concrete floor. Pain flared throughout his body
"Shit. Hang on, Sam." Dean gave the cage a shove and let Ron catch it so he could get his hands on his brother. He rolled Sam carefully to his back and up into his chest. Dean grimaced in sympathy as Sam hissed painfully at the movement. "How long was he in that damn thing?" Dean asked, noticing that Sam's legs were curled up, even without the confinement of the bars.
Ron swallowed and backed away again. "You guys were, uh... well, the tranq put you down for about twelve hours."
Dean glared at Ron's paling face for a moment and then looked away. "I want everything you took off us, and then you wanna make sure I never see your face again. We clear?"
Ron nodded quickly, understanding that he was being shown the only mercy Dean would ever allow him, and Ron didn't even think he was wrong anymore. "Crystal. I'll be back."
"Ok, Sammy. How you doin'?"
Sam gulped and coughed with a low groan. "Thirsty."
"Yeah, I'll bet. Got water in the car." Dean looked down at him and wished Sam hadn't stopped him from killing George. He was a mess of blisters and bruises, and Dean was pretty sure the kid hadn't realized yet that the repeated electric shocks had made him pee his pants. Dean could smell it and hoped Sam wouldn't notice. It was just one more humiliation that he didn't need.
"Gotta get you outta here, dude." Dean eased Sam up a little further. "How about you try straightening out those legs?"
Sam nodded again and carefully began stretching first one leg and then the other. He was panting by the time he'd managed it. He shook in Dean's arms and curled a little more into the warmth of his brother and was too damn exhausted emotionally and physically to be ashamed of it.
"Easy," Dean soothed. He wrapped his arms a little more tightly around Sam's shoulders and offered him the only comfort he could. Dean tensed when the door opened again and watched Ron come in. There jackets were bundled in his arms with his and Sam's guns stacked on top.
"This is everything." Ron set the pile of belongings down next to Dean.
"Good. Grab those cuffs." Dean nodded to the pair he'd escaped earlier. "Cuff your buddy over there before he wakes up and has an attack of stupid."
"Yeah." Ron didn't argue. He quickly secured Malcolm's hands behind his back and then looked over at George. Ron frowned and went to him, kneeling beside the older man. He put his fingers to George's throat and blew out a breath, though he wasn't really surprised. "Well, damn."
"What?" Dean asked, distracted as he tried to gently get Sam's jacket on him. His shirts were gone, probably in pieces somewhere.
"George had a pacemaker," Ron said softly. He crossed himself and stood. "I figure the charge from the cattle prod must have killed it. He's gone."
"He's dead?" Sam said softly. He rolled his head to look at George's body and flinched a little in remembered fear. It comforted him when Dean's arm tightened reflexively around him.
"He was lookin' for justice. He found it. Brought it on himself, Sam," Dean said firmly and with no remorse. In truth, he was relieved. He wouldn't have to worry about the psychopath coming after Sam ever again.
"Get... get me up." Sam tried to push himself up but his body wasn't cooperating yet. "I want to get out of here. Now."
"We're going." Dean pulled his own jacket on, tucking both guns against his back. He propped Sam against his knees as he stood. "Take a deep breath, Sam."
Sam sucked in a ragged breath and somehow managed not to cry out in pain as his brother dragged him up from the floor. The moment he tried to put his weight on his legs, his vision whited out and he heard a sharp cry echo in his ears. Sam slowly came back to himself and found he was still standing. He blinked and opened his eyes and found he wasn't actually standing so much as being propped up between his brother and Ron with his face held in the gentle grip of Dean's hand and his big brother's worried face looking at him.
"Sor... sorry," Sam gasped.
Dean shook his head. "Don't worry about it. All you gotta do is let me..." he stopped and looked over at Ron who gave him a firm nod and adjusted his grip on Sam's other side. "Let us get you to the car. That's all. No big deal. Ok?"
Sam lifted his head and turned it to look over at Ron. He frowned. "Remember you," he said softly and saw the way Ron's eyes dropped from his. "Thought maybe you were... were going to stop him."
Ron sighed sadly. He figured he would be doing a lot of penance for his part in the things that had happened to Sam Winchester and he deserved it. He knew that now. "I'm sorry. I really... I'm just sorry."
Dean felt slightly better about letting Ron help him with his brother knowing that, at some point, the man had made an impression on Sam as well. He was happy he'd been right about him. "Let's move. That other guy can't stay on a smoke break forever."
Ron was surprised into a small laugh as they started dragging Sam to the door. "That guy can vanish for more than an hour. Trust me. We're not gonna see him."
"Good. Here we go, Sammy."
Sam focused all his energy on just breathing as he was half-carried through the halls and up a flight of stairs. His whole body hurt. His chest still felt tight and there was a part of his mind that had yet to accept that he was actually out of the cage. Each time he tried to take his own weight to help them, the pain slammed into him and took away what little breath he had until Sam finally gave up trying. He closed his eyes and just breathed, letting the men maneuver him. He startled in surprise when he stopped moving, and Sam opened his eyes to see the Impala gleaming in the morning sun. He frowned as Dean pulled the passenger door open.
"But... it was night. What?"
Dean smiled and took most of Sam's weight from Ron. "We were out for a while, dude. Don't worry about it. Here we go." He didn't need any help getting his Sasquatch of a brother into the car. That he had a lifetime of practice with and had Sam curled into the passenger seat in no time. He pushed the door closed and looked at Ron again. "I appreciate what you did here, helping him; helping me. But I mean it. I ever see you again..."
"I'll deserve whatever you do to me," Ron said seriously and stepped away. "The way we tortured him... it wasn't human. It was evil. I know that now. I can't ever make it right. Just... take care of him."
Dean nodded, studied the man for a moment and then turned away. He walked around the Impala and slid behind the wheel. He smiled with relief at the comforting rumble of her engine as he pulled away from the building where they had been held and stretched a hand out across the seat to rest on Sam's shoulder. "You still with me?"
Sam nodded but kept his eyes closed, letting his head rest on the back of the seat. He could feel the motion of the Impala as she shot forward and knew Dean had found a long, clear stretch of road, his favorite. Normally, the Impala was a refuge for them, but not today. Today, Sam felt like he was back in the cage; surrounded by metal and trapped. The air was clogging in his chest as he tried to stay calm so they could get further away. It wasn't working.
"Sammy?" Dean felt the almost constant tremble in his brother's shoulder and could hear Sam's breathing becoming more ragged, like the breaths were being punched out of him. "Dude, ease up."
Sam shook his head. He opened his eyes, but seeing the car all around him didn't help. It made it worse. Panic had lodged itself under his pounding heart. He opened his mouth wide, trying to get air, but it felt like there wasn't any to be had. He lurched up and scrambled a hand at the door. "Out. Stop, Dean. Need..."
"Whoa! Hang on! Shit!" Dean kept his right hand fisted in the shoulder of Sam's jacket with visions of his little brother spilling out onto the road at sixty miles an hour. He swerved the car toward the shoulder and saw a narrow, old road leading into some trees. Dean tightened his grip as Sam continued to paw at the door and slammed on the brakes once they were in the screen of trees. "Jesus."
Sam got the handle finally and shoved the door open. He tumbled out in a painful sprawl of limbs, half on pavement and half into soft grass and bent double as he wrapped his arms around himself.
Dean tore himself from the car and ran around to find Sam huddled on the ground. "Fuck, Sam. What the hell?" He knelt and put a hand on the back of Sam's neck, feeling the still-chilled skin there. "Slow it down, kiddo."
"Can't... breathe," Sam gasped with his eyes squeezed shut. "No air!"
"Plenty of air, Sammy. All the air in the world. Come on. Open your eyes." Dean tugged until Sam toppled in against his side. He rubbed his hand up and down his brother's back and said nothing when Sam caught hold of his other sleeve and held on to his arm with a painful grip. "Sam."
Sam felt the world closing in around him. He opened his eyes and could actually see blackness creeping in at the edges of his vision and then Dean was there. "Dean."
"Right here, Sammy. Hey." Dean took the hand Sam had on him and put it to his chest. "Feel me breathin'?" He waited for Sam to nod and smiled. "Ok, just follow along. Breathe with me, Sam. You can do this. In and out. Now, Sam. Come on." Sam was moments away from passing out, Dean could see it. He was relieved he could even reach Sam in the midst of his panic attack, and the kid had certainly earned the right to one after the last twelve hours.
Sam tried to focus on the feeling of Dean's chest rising and falling under his hand, on the rhythm of it and took a breath as Dean's chest rose.
"That's it, Sammy. With me." Dean coached him calmly, helping his brother learn to breathe all over again. It took the better part of a half an hour as they sat there in the grass on the side of the old road until at last, the tension seemed to bleed out of Sam all at once and he collapsed in against his brother. "Whoa. Sammy?"
Sam curled his fingers in Dean's shirt and felt tears on his face. "Thank you."
"Don't worry about it." Dean smiled and kept up the slow rhythm of his hand rubbing up and down Sam's back. "'Course you keep cryin' on me, you're doing laundry."
Sam was surprised into a small laugh. He took a deep breath, then another and very carefully moved until he was sitting more or less on his own. He opened his eyes and looked around and let the green grass and trees soothe him. He looked up at the blue sky above and closed his eyes, letting the cool breeze play over his face.
"Yo. You wanna commune with nature or get back to the motel so we can fix you up?" Dean was perfectly content to sit in the grass all damn day if that was what it took to make Sam feel better, though he really did want to get a better look at the damage the men had done and get the kid patched up and into a bed.
Sam nodded and cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm good now." He flushed a little with embarrassment and let Dean help him back up so he was sitting in the passenger seat. "Water?"
"Got it." Dean pulled open the back door and reached into the foot well, digging around until he came out with a bottle of water. He twisted it open and handed it to his brother before he closed both doors.
Sam took small, careful sips of the water though all he wanted to do was guzzle it. But the thought of throwing up in his current state kept him from being an idiot. He smiled when Dean slid back behind the wheel next to him and smiled more widely when they started moving again, backing up and out toward the road they had left.
"Dean?"
"You think you need a hospital?" Dean asked and quirked a brow over at his brother. "I don't even know how many times they zapped you, dude."
Sam shook his head. "No, I'm ok." He rolled his eyes at Dean's snort of disbelief. "Ok, fine. I'm not, but I'm not... not dying."
Dean nodded, sobered with the thought of how close he'd come to losing Sam. "That is the last damn time I ever wanna find you locked in a cage. Hell, the first time was enough," he said, remembering the Benders two years earlier. It wasn't lost on him that, once again, it was simple humans who shoved Sam into a cage like an animal. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and took deep breaths, calming himself. "Seriously, though, hospital bad?"
"No." Sam knew how much pain he was in and it was bad, but it wasn't as bad it could have been. "Think it's mostly burns and bruises." He grimaced as he tried to stretch his legs. "And pulled muscles. Crap."
"Not surprised." Dean took the turn off toward the town they had been staying in. He looked over at Sam again and sighed. "Sammy, you know they were full of crap, right?"
"Huh?" Sam met Dean's eyes with confusion.
"You bein' a monster. That's bullshit," Dean spat the words angrily, still enraged that George had even come close to convincing his brother of something like that. "And you ain't got shit to confess for, Sammy. You're a good person." Dean rolled his eyes at himself but finished the thought. "Best damn person I know."
Sam sniffed, holding back a fresh round of tears with a mighty effort and aimed his eyes back out at the road to spare Dean. "Thanks."
Dean nodded at Sam's hoarse voice and tried to let the anger go now that they were free and Sam was safe... at least for the next couple months. He shook his head and pushed that thought away as well. "You're gonna be fine, little brother," Dean said at last and meant so much more than just his current injuries. He put a hand across the seat and back on his brother's neck in his habitual offer of comfort and took some of his own in their presence together, in his baby, as they motored down the highway; safe.
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The End.
Next up: D is for... I haven't decided yet. I'll figure it out. Too many choices!
