Dangerous Beings.
Summary... Sam finds out the hard way that supernatural beings aren't the worst things out there. Sam's 13, Dean 17. Rated T. This story does contain child abuse, it's not graphic. If you don't like please don't read.
Disclaimer... Nope not mine just loaned them for today.
A.N... This chapter has been a right pain in the arse. It just would not write, right. It's been chopped and changed so many times, I very nearly stopped writing the story. But I persisted with it and I hope it has turned out okay.
Chapter 7. Good and bad days.
Dean didn't know what to do. It had been a month since he had returned to Sam's room, after comforting their dad, to find his brother sedated again. Still trying to fight and escape the hands he thought were trying to hurt him, Sam only seeming to calm down when Dean removed his jacket and placed it gently over his younger sibling, where he seemed to burrow into the leather. Since then things had only gotten worse. Everyday was a bad day. Sam had withdrawn into himself even more. He refused to eat. The doctor, having no choice, had inserted a feeding tube. When awake he would stare blankly into space, crying constantly, refusing to acknowledge anyone, never speaking, not even to Dean, and certainly not to the police.
There was absolutely no touching, the hospital staff finding out the hard way the day after dad's breakdown when they had gone to check Sam's wounds. One touch and Sam had ignited, lashing out viciously and with force, breaking an orderlies nose and blackening a nurses eye before he was brought under control, sedated and in restraints once again. Dean had refused to let anyone touch Sam since, knowing he would hate it. So everyday Dean would clean his injuries and wash his brother gently. Some days Sam was compliant, others he fought tooth and nail.
The worst day for Dean had happened about two weeks ago. Sam's leg had been taken out of the savage looking frame and casted. John was at the motel, Dean talking to Dr. Walsh, when Sam waking up alone and panic stricken, his restraints forgotten to be put back, had somehow managed to remove himself from the I.V's and tubes that fed him and hobbled undetected from the room. By the time Dean found him, crouched uncomfortably between a sink and toilet in one of the floors public bathrooms, Sam had managed a half hearted attempt to take his own life. Breaking open a razor he had found, he'd sliced across his left wrist, his broken fingers not allowing him to do the other wrist. Why he stopped Dean neither knew nor cared, but he had and since then the restraints were kept on at all times and Sam placed on a suicide watch.
The days since had turned into one big roundabout. They woke up, stayed with Sam, went to bed. That was until yesterday. Yesterday the doctors had decided they could do no more for Sam in this hospital, they needed the room and Sam was unwilling to be helped, unless there was improvement by the weekend they were going to have him committed. So Dean was torn. There was absolutely no way he was having Sam committed, but did he have the strength within himself to play the hard man with his emotionally disturbed brother. Thinking it over he realized he had no choice.
"Sammy. Please Sam you have to talk to me, talk to dad." Getting no response he carried on. "Please Sam. They want to take you away and I can't allow them to do that. So please, I'm begging you, please help me out here. Talk to me, if you don't think you can do that, just acknowledge me, and attempt to eat something. Do anything. I lost you once brother. I will not lose you again. I can't lose you again. You're my brother and I love you so very much. I'd die if you leave me again."
Caught up in his words and tears falling freely down his face, Dean didn't realize there was a pair of brown eyes gradually beginning to focus on him, tears streaming from them also.
"Sam for the whole three months you were gone I refused to give up. I knew you were still out there. My life, dad's life revolved around getting you back, nothing else mattered but you. You're our life Sam, what we live each day for, we don't exist without you. We need you to get better. It's going to be hard Sam, we know that, but we will be with you all the way no matter what. Through the good days and the bad we will be with you, I promise. Just help me out here and please don't give up."
A gentle touch on his hand had Dean looking up. Attempting to wipe the tears away, he looked into his brothers wet eyes. Eyes that for the first time had a spark, it wasn't the spark that had teenagers and grown women unable to refuse anything the boy asked, but it was a spark just the same and Dean was hopeful.
"I'm sorry." Sam croaked out, his voice hoarse from not being used.
Dean was taken aback. "Sorry for what? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about Sam. You did nothing wrong. Those bastards will be the ones to be sorry when we get our hands on them. You, brother, are the victim. Don't you be apologizing for nothing."
"I'm sorry." Was all Sam could muster again, before tears fell more fiercely from his eyes.
Taking in his brother's distress, Dean reacted instinctively. "Come here." He reassuringly spoke, before removing the restraints and taking Sam into a hug.
Sam cringed inwardly and fought against his natural urge to pull away, before allowing himself to collapse into the gesture, the brother's staying that way for a long time, each taking much needed comfort from the embrace. Dean broke the contact first. Gently cupping his brother's face, he wiped at the tears that still fell down.
"You okay?" A shrug from Sam. "You need anything?" A shake of the head. "You want to talk?" Another shake of the head. Looking more closely at his brother, Dean could tell that he was exhausted. Their little bonding session had completely wasted him. "Okay, I'm gonna talk to the doctor, see if I can get him to postpone the move for now. I'm gonna leave the restraints off. Will you be okay?" Getting a nod from Sam, Dean got up. "Alright you get some rest, dad should be here soon, I'll just be outside till then, I promise."
Heading for the door, Dean stole a quick glance back at Sam. Seeing his brother's eyes closed and a look of peace on his face, the first in a long time, Dean thought him to be asleep, just as he was pulling on the door though he heard Sam's soft raspy voice.
"Happy birthday, Dean."
Dean turned back a look of surprise registering on his face, but Sam really was asleep this time. Stepping through the door tears fell once more, but this time they were happy tears.
John turned up as Dean was talking to Dr. Walsh. After getting reassurance that Sam wouldn't be moved for another week, so long as he improved, he told his dad what had transpired minutes earlier.
"That's a good sign, son. He's heading in the right direction." John replied to the much needed good news.
"Let's hope so, dad. But I don't think it's over by a long way yet. Listen I need to go get some food for Sammy to try. Will you be okay with him for a while?" Dean inquired.
John had been taking the night shifts at the hospital, since Sam had first woken up, not knowing how to respond to his youngest son's reactions. "Yeah sure, he's asleep right?"
"Yeah, he got tired real easy and dropped straight off. If he awakes just don't rush anything. You'll both be okay; I shouldn't be longer than an hour."
Leaving the hospital, Dean got into the Impala. Gunning the engine he headed for the place he had wanted to go to ever since he'd seen the news report. He had something to do and tonight, his 18th birthday he was gonna do it. Arriving at his destination he quickly got out, retrieving two items off the back seat. Making quick work of the lock, he made his way inside, moving upstairs he found the room. The mattress was no longer there, it had long since been taken away for evidence. Pale street light through the window enabled Dean to see stains on the floorboards. Sam's blood.
Fighting the need to get out of there, Dean poured the contents of one of the containers onto the floor and walls, making it trail on the carpet outside and down the stairs. Using the other container he doused the kitchen cabinets and living room carpet, before taking out his lighter and flicking it on. Sitting on the Impala's hood he watched as Sammy's prison went up in flames.
Returning to Sam's room he was surprised to see him awake, his feeding tube and restraints had been removed, John attempting small talk, Sam unresponsive, but at least not staring blankly as he had been earlier. The relief on both faces at seeing Dean was almost comical.
"I'm just going for coffee." John rushed out, whilst practically bolting from the room.
Chuckling quietly to himself, Dean took over his empty seat, his amusement dying when Sam softly spoke.
"Dad hates me. He's disgusted with me. He can't even bare to be near me."
"Sammy, that's not true. You know dad, if he can't shoot it or blow it up, he doesn't know how to deal with it. But that doesn't mean he's disgusted by you or that he doesn't love you." Dean paused to get something out of the bag he had brought back. "Hey you hungry? I brought you Fruit Loops." Getting no response he tried again. "Come on Sam, please. Just a couple of mouthfuls." Getting a slight nod this time Dean broke into the first smile in a very long time. "I'll be right back; I just have to get a bowl."
Sam had done well, eating half the small bowl of Fruit Loops and milk before he had began to tire yet again. Taking the bowl off his brother, Dean had fixed his jacket more snugly around him, Sam had refused to give it back, and allowed him to go back to sleep. He'd been that way for an hour when John came back.
"Dean, the police are here they want to talk to us."
"Bring them in here. Sam's asleep and I don't want to leave him." Dean replied calmly, although his insides were churning. Surely they hadn't found any evidence to link him to the house fire so soon?
He didn't have to wait long to find out as John came back, this time with George and another officer close behind.
"Hey Dean. I'm sorry to disturb you so late, but I thought you should hear this from me before the papers and news gets a hold of it."
Dean plastered a carefree look on his face. "Shit they know. They know I set fire to the house." Kept going through his head. John stood in his usual stoic silence.
George continued. "We've found the Burton's. They're in custody as we speak."
A.N... Well what do you think? Hope you weren't too disappointed. Now then I have ideas how to deal with the Burton's both ways, but tell me which way you hope I go. Winchester revenge or classic courts? Catch you after chapter 8 and remember hit the button, please, Peanut x