Blast From The Past

Disclaimer: Even after all of this time, I still only get to play with the boys then have to send them home, sigh.

Author's Note:

Fandrea put a plot bunny up for adoption on the CWESS; Fic is set in S5, after the boys get back together. They boys meet up a couple of hunters, who need their help (Maybe through Bobby?). (Could be the ones from FTBYAM or complete strangers, your choice, but Dean has to know at least one of them from earlier (Maybe from when Sam was at Stanford) and trust him) The case turns out to be a MOTW that the hunters misidentify. Sam knows something is off and tries to tell Dean, that they need to do more research. Dean of course trusts the hunters more, even when Sam manages to find the real culprit.

I know that this is taking a slightly different path than Fandrea's fantastic plot bunny but hopefully if it all works like I have in mind, then it will end up far from what you wanted honey, sorry if there's any confusion. The MOTW is on the way...

Author's Note 2: Rated for language and violence, hurt and comfort with hurt! Sam and protective! Dean.

S—D

Chapter Four: Sleight of hand

Then:

Walt emerged from the shadows near the boys' room; he listened intently to the conversation and then smiled: it was all too easy. Whistling silently he headed downstairs to where Bart and Kurt were sleeping, slipping back into his seat he glanced above him as though he could see through the ceiling and floorboards to where the Winchester brothers slept.

Now:

Dean opened his eyes slowly, each one feeling as though it had a weight attached to the lid. Slowly he lifted a trembling hand and felt the large lump still growing on the back of his head. Gasping in pain, he tried to focus, to calm his tumultuous thoughts as he desperately reigned in his errant memories. A low moan coming from nearby caught his attention, 'Sam?' he croaked out, finally he managed to pry one eye open and he blearily tried to make out the moving blob next to him. 'Sammy?'

'Ah fuck ... nah it aint Sam.' A voice echoed in his ears, definitely a not-Sam voice.

'Who? Wha? The fuck? Where ... where's Sam?'

'First ... thanks for the concern man,' the blob moved again slowly morphing into a recognisable form.

'Bart dammit where's Sam?' Dean demanded his worry for Sam overriding his own physical pain.

'Dunno ... stop ... yelling dude ... too loud.' Bart groaned holding his head in one hand while he rubbed the back of his neck with the other, 'what truck hit us?'

'Who is Walt and where is Sammy?' Dean snarled pushing himself up off the ground he stared around at their surroundings 'what the?'

They were lying on the ground just outside Bobby's house, both covered in mud and slime, both sporting nasty lumps on the backs of their heads and both missing time.

'Bobby!' Dean yelled frantically staggering to his feet he lurched towards the front door, 'Bobby!'

S—D

Six hours earlier:

Sam quietly slipped out of the bedroom and headed towards the shower, he had barely slept after being woken by Dean. His head felt thick and heavy, filled with concrete laced cotton wool. The dream, nightmare, night terror whatever you wanted to call it scared him more than he would admit to himself but the fact that he had Dean had virtually shared the same dreamscape freaked him out completely. That and the fact that he had a nosebleed, the first in a long time after a dream and or vision totally spooked him. Standing under the scalding hot shower, he let he water cascade down his back, resting his aching forehead on the tiled wall. This all felt so wrong and Dean, Dean was starting to warm up to these guys, especially Bart.

The name sent shivers down Sam's spine he knew he had no right to feel any jealousy or anger towards Bart. He had no right even having an opinion on what Dean did or who he spent time with while Sam was at Stanford. Just as he knew that Dean would respect his life at school, well respect his privacy to a point. What happened at Stanford stayed with Sam, so what happened with Dean should stay with Dean. But it still felt so wrong and Bart still sent warning bells off with Sam.

Then, then there was Walt. Sam arched his neck and let the water run over his face, washing away the grime, sweat and blood from last night but it didn't wash away the doubt and confusion warring in his sub-conscious. He knew that Dean still didn't trust him completely, and if he was totally honest with himself, he didn't either.

He had to get his head back in the game and fast for Dean's sake let alone anything or anyone else. Shutting off the shower he dried himself and dressed as quickly as possible, dragging his fingers through his still wet hair he glanced at the foggy mirror and winced when he saw the haunted emptiness of his own eyes and face. Ducking his head, he cleaned his teeth, but decided to forego shaving he just didn't have the spare energy, whatever he had was fast depleting.

'Yo Sammy you gonna spend all day in there?' Dean's belligerent bellow brought Sam out of his musings, with a last glance at the mirror Sam took a deep breath and opened the door.

Dean stood slouched against the wall, clothed only in his sweat pants and socks, yawning widely he smirked at Sam mumbled something completely unintelligible and pushed past him into the bathroom. 'Coffee bitch.' He ordered slamming the door shut behind him.

'Get your own jerk.' Sam shot back before heading downstairs, part of him praying that the men were gone and Bobby was down there on his own with breakfast on the go.

His hopes vanished when he heard the laughter and crude jokes filtering up the stairs, and then he heard something that made him smile; at least he could rely on Bobby. 'Git yer worthless asses out there ta git some wood for the fire, and make some coffee this aint no Hilton hotel and I aint no one's maid.'

'Mornin' Sammy boy ... sleep well?' Walt smirked on his way out to get some firewood.

'Only Dean gets to call me that.' Sam said lowly his face devoid of any emotion, he let the anger and the suspicion all shine from his green eyes.

Walt's smirk slipped a little when he saw the lethal look in the kid's eyes, shaking his head he turned and headed outside. Sam lifted his head slightly and met Bobby's gaze evenly, a small smile on the craggy features of his mentor and friend brought a sense of calm to Sam helping him breathe easier.

When Dean came downstairs, freshly showered, shaved and dressed, he found himself surrounded by the three hunters, all eager to discuss the hunt and to get on the road. 'Sam?' he looked around the kitchen for his errant little brother, 'Bobby where's Sammy?'

'Doin' some research for me in the den.' Bobby answered gruffly as he poked at the fire, 'so when are ya idjits headin' out?'

'In an hour or so,' Bart answered, 'so is Sammy alright?'

'It's Sam,' Dean corrected him; 'I'm the only one who calls him that.'

'Sorry dude, so is he ya know alright?'

'Yeah he's fine, just been through a lot lately. We'll be ready to roll out in an hour.' Dean said dismissively as he sipped his coffee and ignored the questioning glances from the other men. 'So Bart did ya tell Bobby about yer theory with the Wendigos?'

'What theory is that?' Bobby looked up and stared suspiciously at the hunters.

'They seem to be joining up creating nests ... we've been tracking at least four of them together.'

'Nesting? Never heard of it afore.' Bobby pushed his cap back and scratched his scalp before replacing it, a move done more out of habit than anything else.

'Crazy shit's happening all of the place Bobby,' Bart started shifting his gaze between Dean and Bobby, as he did he caught a glimpse of Sam hovering on the bottom step, caught up in the discussion he paused on his way upstairs. 'Vampires seem to be on the rise, literally. Demonic possessions are outta control ... Armageddon's already here.'

'Well aint you the cup half full.' Bobby quipped, 'so ya think ya got it all worked out? Gettin' rid of a nest of Wendigos is gonna make all the difference? Idjits one and all.'

'Listen old man ... just coz you're outta the fight ...' Walt started, he stood up and was quickly crossing the floor to tower over the wheelchair bound man when he was blocked but an unmovable wall of muscle. Sam stood at his full height, his arms crossed over his chest, showing the sheer power of his stature with the ease of a professional fighter.

'Get outta the way Sam-my.'

'Not gonna happen Walt,' Sam spoke softly and slowly, 'just sit down and shut up.'

'Yeah? So Whatcha gonna do if I don't?' Walt huffed but came to a stunned stop when he faced not one but two of the Winchester brothers, giving him a glimpse of the truth behind the legend.

'Ya'll sit down and shut up,' Bobby's voice broke through the tense standoff as he pushed himself into the centre of the room, 'overgrown idjits, anymore and I'll fill ya with buckshot.' He added aiming his shotgun at Walt.

Throwing his hands up in mock surrender, Walt stormed off outside followed closely by Kurt, who gave them a quick look of apology.

S—D

'Cool it Walt, ya wanna wreck it all now? Now we're so close to the pay-off?' Kurt spat in the other man's face. They stood in the driveway of the salvage yard, far enough away from the house so that no one could hear them and in the open enough so that no one could sneak up on them.

'Friggin' jerks,' Walt spat, 'just let me at Sam...'

'Hey we're sticking to the plan Walter, we aint cocking this up now, we're too close.' Kurt stepped closer moving intimidating into Walt's personal space, 'just keep it together until we can get him out from under his guard dog of a brother.'

'Yeah funny that, from what I heard and saw they weren't even hunting together ... now they're back at it. Fucking Winchesters.'

S—D

'Sorry bout that Bobby,' Bart tried to apologise and calm them all down, this was fast getting out of control. At first he only wanted to get Winchester back for ditching him all of those years ago, to fuck with him and Sam as pay back. But this, this was getting out of control too fast for his liking, he knew and trusted Kurt but Walt was a loose cannon, and he made Bart feel very uneasy.

'S'alright Bart, let's just get this hunt over with,' Dean ran his fingers through his hair and looked over at his former friend; 'Sam and me'll take the impala and follow you guys.'

'You sure you don't want to take just one car?'

'Sorry dude no offence but I don't let anyone else drive the impala and I aint the world's best passenger in other cars.' Dean grinned, 'anyway we got our own firepower and don't think you'd have the room for it all.'

'No probs at all dude, so we ready to pack the cars?'

Walt and Kurt decided then to come back in, with a silent death glare at the Winchesters Walt started to pack up the few things brought in for the night before and went out to put it all in the van, leaving Kurt and Bart to wind things up inside.

Casting a furtive glance around Walt opened the back of the van, grinning coldly he checked the restraints already attached to the floor, making sure that they were secure. This was going to be fun, and if he could manage it he might even be able to exact a little revenge of his own on the snotty kid.

Hearing the others start to emerge from the house, Walt picked up the tyre iron and went to get into position, time to play.

S—D

Present:

Dean found Bobby bound, gagged and fuming lying on his single bed, his wheelchair across the room. Lurching slightly Dean managed to make to his friend's side and drop to his knees before tackling the knots on the gag and bindings around Bobby's wrists.

'Yer alright kid?' Bobby gasped when Dean finally loosened the gag and slipped it down.

'Yeah, yeah I'm fine, but what about you dude?'

'I'm fine,' Bobby snapped, 'let me look at that lump on yer head.'

'They took Sammy Bobby, they took Sammy.' Dean submitted to Bobby's ministrations knowing from experience that it was futile to argue.

'Dean they slashed the impala's tyres.' Bart reported as he joined them in the den, while Bobby poured them all a drink, 'I think that's all that they did though.'

'Bastards, first they snatch Sammy and now ... my baby they hurt my baby.' Dean seethed, he was going to kill them, bring them back and then kill them again, slowly.

'Bart ... did you have anything at all to do with this?' Bobby asked the younger man, his gaze fixed firmly on Bart's face.

'Nothing I swear Bobby,' Bart answered truthfully, 'I will admit I wanted to cause some trouble for Dean with Sam but ... nothing like this I just wanted to get a bit back ya know. I never ever wanted ... what have I done?'

'Yeah Bart what have you done?' Dean asked his voice pitched low and violently calm.

S—D

Sam tried to push down the nausea swallowing convulsively, knowing that if he vomited now while gagged he could choke on his vomit and die. With his blindfold and gag, his light-headiness and disorientation intensified along with the sickness accompanying the effects of whatever the drug was that Kurt had glommed him with.

The steady motion beneath him only escalated the effects but also let him know that he was in fact in the rear of a van, and that they were now driving on dirt tracks, rough and pot-holed dirt tracks. His wrists and ankles were held securely by restraints of some description, his long limbs spread-eagled on the floor of the van. His head unprotected continuously bounced against the metal, making him feel worse with each jolt if that was possible.

He had no idea what happened to Dean or Bobby, the last thing he could remember was seeing Kurt's face as the guy managed to surprise him with a concealed syringe, and then lying on the ground with everything tilted sideways around him. With his fading sight he could see Walt advancing on Dean from behind but he couldn't make a sound. The last image he registered in his drugged mind was Dean collapsing after Walt's attack.

A muffled groan came from deep within when with the van came to a sudden, bone jarring stop, tears stung his eyes as he strained to listen for any indication of what was about to happen. He never got to fix things completely with Dean, he never got to say thank you to Bobby and now as he lay on the floor of the van, effectively immobile, blind and silenced, he resolutely concluded that he would probably never get the chance.

His breathing quickened when he heard the sliding side door open, it wasn't the rear ones this time, straining to hear anything at all, he couldn't help but let out a muffled yelp when rough hands grabbed his hair and wrenched his head back.

The gag yanked from his mouth gave him no respite, as a hand gripped his chin and forced his mouth wide open. Hyperventilating Sam froze when he heard Walt start to laugh and then as the viscous fluid was poured down his throat; the coppery taste registering immediately in his terrified mind. This couldn't be happening, not again. Although this time he was powerless to stop it, unable to fight back, all he could do was try to spit it out and not to swallow. In the end, though, it was all in vain as they held him in vice-like grips, the hand holding his chin pushed until his jaw clenched shut, another hand squeezed his nose shut, effectively cutting off any airflow, to prevent himself from choking on it, he had to swallow.

Kurt and Walt smiled at each other when they saw the exact moment their prisoner wilted and surrendered to the inevitable.

TBC