Well, now that I have been thoroughly chastised for leaving the last chapter as a cliff-hanger…I did it again! Just not as bad. Not to worry, next chapter should post tomorrow. Thanks again to hotshow for her diligence in proofing this story and keeping me on track and on task. And a HUGE thanks to everyone still following this story despite the lack of alerts!
Chapter 9
Dean squared his shoulders, assessing the new threat. Ugly was about Dean's height, but most likely carried an extra fifty or so pounds and Dean guessed it was not all in that beer gut. He reached back to give Sam a gentle shove back, to put him out of Ugly's reach.
"Dude, you got a problem?" he demanded, eyes narrowing.
"What's with the toy?" Ugly asked, sneering.
That alone would normally be enough for Dean to lay into this guy, pummel him into next week. Not with Sammy standing right behind him. "What do you care?" Dean snapped, feeling his chest expand in an attempt to look slightly more intimidating.
Ugly looked from Dean to Sam and back. "What's he to you?"
Dean ground his teeth, biting back the nasty retorts his brain kept sending to his mouth. "He's my brother. Want to make something of it?" He took a step forward.
"Dean? Please don't hurt him too bad. Remember what happened last time?" Sam's voice floated from over his shoulder.
"Shut up, Sam," Dean snapped, but he could not help wondering where the hell that came from. What last time? Had Sam remembered something?
"But Dean, that guy didn't wake up for three days!" Sam's foot stomped the floor. "They were gonna arrest you and everything! I don't want you to go back to jail." Sam's voice took on a distinctive whine.
Now, Dean had absolutely no memory of anything like that happening, ever. He could only assume Sammy was making all of this up. He chanced a glance over his shoulder. "What part of shut up don't you get?" he growled, winking at Sammy. He could not have Sammy thinking he didn't get it.
"Dean," the whine was louder now, "Dad said you had to look out for me. How can you do that in jail?"
Dean watched Ugly closely. The guy might be buying Sam's story, he was not sure yet. "We'll just be sure to leave before the cops show up this time, Sammy."
Sam's distinctive huff nearly brought a smile to Dean's face. "Then shoot him. Get it over with."
Okay, now that was taking it a little far. Dean stepped to the side so he could regard Sammy and Ugly at the same time. "You want me to shoot him, Sammy? Really?"
Ugly's eyes widened at that. Apparently Ugly was not packing. Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh at the confusion raging over Ugly's face.
"No, I just want to leave, Dean." Sammy said, glaring at Ugly. "If the short guy will get out of our way."
Okay, that was too much. Dean had to chuckle over that one. "You heard my little brother. Move." He jerked his head to the side.
Ugly looked between them one more time before stepping away. Dean motioned for Sammy to head for the door, refusing to turn his back on Ugly. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sammy go through the front door. Relieved, he turned to follow and ran smack into a barrel chest he had not noticed before. Shit.
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Sammy waited just outside for his big brother. What was taking Dean so long? Dean would want him to wait by the car. Sammy looked down at the Batman dangling from his hand. He lifted it to his face.
"You'd want Robin to wait by the car, right?" He asked, imagining that Batman sneered at him and nodded. "But would Robin do that?" He could see Batman's green eyes roll, just like Dean's did. Yeah, that was what he thought.
Sammy pulled open the door. Dean stood between the mean man who asked about his Batman and another guy who was even bigger. The bigger man rubbed his jaw and looked really mad at Dean. The mean man's face was really red around one eye. Sammy wondered if it was swelling. His brother had a hell of a right hook.
Dean pointed to the bigger man. "I'm going to kick your ass first," his finger swung around to the mean man, "then yours."
Sammy groaned to himself. He had tried to warn the mean man. Some people just wouldn't listen. Sammy propped the door open, leaning in the doorway to watch. The bigger man lunged at Dean, but Dean ducked the blow and sent him soaring into the mean guy. While the two tried to untangle themselves from each other, Dean grabbed the bigger man by the collar and landed two hard blows to the jaw. Sammy winced as the man slumped down, unconscious. That was going to really hurt later, he was sure.
Dean stepped back, glowering at the mean man. The mean man wriggled out from under the bigger dude and faced off against Dean. Sammy knew the only things going through his brother's mind right now were if he should draw this out and make mean man suffer, or end it quick and get the hell out. Sammy hoped for the last one. He was serious about not wanting Dean arrested.
The mean man circled his brother, looking for signs of weakness. Sammy knew the man would only find one if Dean faked something. Dean circled too, waiting for his opening. Sammy wondered what would happen if he threw Batman at the mean man's head, but he didn't want his only toy broken so he waited. Then his eyes met Dean's. Dean frowned at him. He was supposed to be at the car, he knew. Sammy hugged Batman to him as the mean man lashed out at his brother. Dean barely dodged it in time, but he grabbed the mean man by the arm and rammed him, head first, into the bar. Sammy shook his head as Dean twisted the mean man's arm until he cried out.
"Nobody – picks – on," Dean used more pressure and the man's face twisted, making Sammy look away, "my – brother!"
Sammy smiled to the doorjamb at that. Dean was the best big brother in the whole world. He heard the sounds of someone being hit, but Sammy did not look over. He knew who was doing the hitting. Soon he felt a hand on his arm.
"Let's go, Sammy."
Sammy walked along with his brother, trying not to skip because that annoyed Dean.
"Didn't I tell you to wait at the car?" Dean demanded as he opened Sammy's door.
"Yes, Dean," he said, still smiling. Sammy slid into his seat and closed the door while Dean walked around to the other side. "Dean?"
"What?" Dean sat behind the wheel and slammed the keys into their spot. His brother sounded pretty annoyed. Must be because he did not wait at the car like he was supposed to.
"Thanks."
Dean looked at him, confused. "For what? Starting a fight?"
Sammy shook his head. "For sticking up for me. I'm glad you're my big brother, Dean."
Dean snorted, starting the car. Sammy watched out the window while Dean drove. "Sammy?"
"What?" Sammy turned to look at his brother.
"That, uh, that was a pretty good story you came up with back there." Dean made a funny noise in his throat, like he needed to cough but it wouldn't come out.
"Thanks, Dean." Sammy shook his head. "He really should have listened to me." Sammy could not help rubbing his jaw. There was an ache there, like someone had hit him, too. Or like he knew what those two men would feel like later. But Dean had never hit him. Right?
A quick laugh shot out of Dean. "Yeah, guess so."
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Dean shot a look at his brother as he made the next corner. Sam looked fine, but looks could be deceiving. Strokes. His brother had been suffering from strokes and that bitch of a doctor never told him. He wondered if she had even figured it out.
His knuckles ached from that quick brawl, but at the same time it felt good. Their lives were supposed to be filled with fighting and hustling and things like that. He rolled his shoulders, feeling most of the tension there was gone. Dean wondered if Sam would mind staying with Bobby occasionally so he could go out and pick a fight sometime. Probably, if Sammy ever figured out what he was up to.
Then there was the issue of periodic female companionship. Well, at least for a couple of hours. What could he do with Sammy? He could always go without, or settle for the really slutty gals who liked it in storerooms and back alleys. Still, that would put him away from Sam a little longer than was safe. Hell, he felt guilty leaving Sam alone long enough to empty his damn bladder. He sighed, figuring even the quickies would have to take a backseat to looking after Sammy. Not that it would be the first time. Besides, it was just until Sam was better.
He noticed his bruised knuckles were white against the steering wheel. Dean took a deep breath, forcing away his anxiety. Sam would get better, he told himself. His brother had to.
He turned down the road toward Bobby's. But what if Sam never got better? What if this was as good as it was going to get? Dean stared at the road as if his answers were embedded between the yellow stripes and white dashed lines. He wished Dad were here.
"Dean?"
He nearly jumped at the sound of Sam's voice. Sammy had been so quiet on the drive back, Dean assumed his brother had fallen asleep or something.
"What, Sammy?"
"You look sad. Were you thinking about Dad?"
"Yeah," he answered before realizing what he said, what he just admitted. Dean tried to keep a blank face to prevent anything else from slipping out.
Sammy did not say anything else until Dean stopped the car by Bobby's house. As he turned to open his door, he felt Sam's hand on his arm, holding him back. "Dean?"
Dean took a deep breath, turned around to look in his brother's worried face.
"What happened, Dean? Where is Dad?"
Dean shook his head. It may have happened months ago, but he never really did deal with it, short of beating the crap out of his car. If he had to recount the events, he was not sure he could keep it together.
"Dad's not coming." Sammy said, still holding his gaze. Dean shook his head again. "Can Dad come?"
Dean sighed. His brother was like one of those obnoxious little terrier dogs – constantly yipping and refusing to give anything up. "No." The word was barely a whisper, but it hung between them, filled with meaning and unspoken pain. He felt the hand on his arm tighten and saw the tears spring to Sammy's eyes.
"Did I do it?" Sammy whispered. "Was it my fault? Is that why you won't tell me?"
Dean felt his eyes widen and his mouth drop at that. Where the hell did Sam come up with this freaky logic? "No, Sam. It wasn't your fault." His voice sounded stronger than he felt, so he continued. "It was a car wreck."
He hoped there would be no need for more details. Dean doubted he could tell his brother that Dad died to save him, that Dad made a deal with that damned demon. Not without either lots of hard liquor handy or something to pound on. Or both. Both sounded the most appealing.
Sammy chewed his bottom lip, watching Dean closely like he might be lying. He wasn't, well, not really. Dean waited patiently, something he knew he was going to need to practice a lot now. Patience never had been his strong suit, even where Sammy was concerned. It would have to be now.
Sammy finally let go of his arm. "Okay, Dean."
As he watched his brother climb out, Dean was overcome with the sense that he just let his brother down, but he had no idea how or why. He tried to shake it off, ignore it as they entered Bobby's, but it would not go away. He caught Sam watching him, an odd look on his brother's face, for the rest of the day. It bordered on downright creepy.
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It woke quickly, as it always did. But the dreaded sun was still high in the sky. Why did it wake? It squinted in the brightness of daytime, hissing its displeasure. Then it saw what woke it.
The tall one who carried a doll banged on the remains of a car, shouting something. It peered out from its hiding place, high atop the mounds of rusting machines. Even Singer never thought to search here. It pricked its ears forward, straining to hear over the sounds of machinery next door and Singer's pounding from nearby in the yard.
It could do nothing to the tall one in the daytime, it could barely see. But it could learn and it could listen.
"Pow! Take that Joker! You stupid, evil clown." More banging on the car. "Oh, Catwoman, you here, too? Then take that! And that!" The tall one danced his doll over the side of the decrepit hulk. "And that's for all those stupid tests! And that's for making my brother mad! Pow, pow!"
"Ow!" The tall one howled, hurting its ears. It hissed again in pain, wondering what caused such noise from the tall one. It squinted below, but it was not its eyes that told it what must have happened, it was its nose. The fresh scent of blood wafted upward, making its mouth water. Perhaps it should hunt early tonight.
"Dean!" The tall one rushed to the house. It saw something dark on the ground below. The doll? It did not want to give away its presence, but the opportunity was too fortuitous to pass. It leapt to the ground, grasping the doll in its paws. Claws were unnecessary. Then it made a great jump landing halfway up to its hiding place. A second jump put it back where it began. Ironic that Singer provided it a home, since the man destroyed all it once had. It turned the doll over in its paws, marveling at the fact it now had bait for the tall one. Singer was going to pay. Of that, it was certain.