The Final Straw

Chapter Three

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I am so goddamn sorry, Sammy."

Dean Winchester knew his voice was ragged and broken but only half of that was because of the damage down by the demon going in and out of his throat. The rest came from the hours of talking he'd been doing and the bitter tears that he'd shed as both pain and guilt settled heavily on the hunter's soul.

It had been over twenty-some hours since Dean had regained control of his own body after…well, he was still trying to figure out how in the hell Sam had managed to pull off what he had to save both their asses…again.

Smoothing fingers that were still shaking after spending the better part of two hours cleaning, stitching and dressing wounds carefully back through Sam's damp hair from where Dean had tried to clean the dried blood from the back of his brother's head as best as he could right then.

It had been the bloody lump on the back of Sam's head as well as the several other blows to the head that he knew his own fist had delivered that had Dean fighting with himself between taking his brother straight to the closest ER once he'd freed him finally or just vanishing.

The threat of not knowing where the demon escaped to or if there were more lurking around made Dean's choice for him after he'd bundled his in shock and bleeding brother into the Impala, got whatever the damn demon had taken up into the apartment, including the laptop, and had a moment to wonder if he shouldn't burn the whole damn deserted building to the ground this time before just choosing to leave the area.

Palo Alto had too many bad memories for Sam as it were and now this nightmare would just add to them and while on the one hand Dean wanted a hospital for his brother he also couldn't risk either another demon attack or the questions this would bring.

He'd taken the time to make certain Sam wasn't bleeding out from the knife wound in his thigh and decided to risk taking care of his brother himself…unless Sam didn't wake up or the symptoms that Dean knew would scream trouble showed up.

Not needing or wanting to be any closer to this place than they were, Dean drove blindly until he felt they were far enough away to find a motel so he could try to patch Sam up physically at least since he dreaded the emotional turmoil his brother would be in and the fear he knew he'd see in Sam's eyes.

Though right then all Dean wanted was to see any reaction in Sam that wasn't pain or the soft whimpers he made at any touch.

The motel he'd picked in the small southern California town that in Dean's opinion was too small to be on any current map was also small with only one bed but since he just needed it for Sam, it suited just fine.

Since Sam's first injury on a hunt to scrapes on the school playground to plain fights it seemed like it had always been Dean patching his little brother up…though he never once allowed himself to think that he'd be stitching a knife wound closed that his own hand had caused.

Oh, Dean knew the logical response and what he'd be told by Bobby or Ellen…after the lecture. That he couldn't blame himself for what had happened, that he wasn't in control when those wounds…when the bruises were inflicted and that he'd never hurt Sam if he'd been himself and he accepted all that.

The pure hunter who understood now how possession worked understood that and understood that he'd fought and clawed for control from the second he realized what was happening but what the older brother in him accepted was another matter entirely.

The need to shield and protect was still strong in Dean even after the four years apart while Sam was at college he'd felt the urge to protect and had done the best he could.

Even though he'd nearly shut Sam out after their Dad's death and the guilt he felt over that, protecting his little brother was still paramount to him and so this wasn't a matter of shrugging the guilt off and moving on.

While it might not have been him in control as it happened it had still been his hands the hurt Sam and his voice that his brother was forced to listen to as it hit every weak spot Sam had; as it tossed out every hateful thing that could hurt his brother and tossed in Jessica at every second.

Though the demon had also tossed out a few things that Dean knew Sam had been keeping from him about the time a few months back when Meg had possessed and used Sam as her own personal toy; things that explained a lot about Sam's behavior shortly afterward and things that Dean would have to get him to face…if he talked to him.

The demon had meant that to hurt Sam and to shock Dean and it had but it had also steeled something inside the hunter to make him strive to protect Sam because while one demon might have hurt his brother in ways that he'd always sworn Sam would never face again he'd be damned if another would toss it in his face.

The welts on Sam's back and chest were bad but only a couple needed a few stitches to close. The deep knife wounds had been trickier and Dean was somewhat relieved that Sam didn't wake up while he was closing those but now as he sat back on the side of the lone double bed in the room to just watch the rise and fall of his younger brother's chest he was worried about how unresponsive Sam seemed.

"Sammy…" Dean could still see the fear in Sam's eyes earlier but he also could see the strength at the end when he'd fought to do what he could to free him from the demon. "Wake up, please," he whispered, wanting to sleep or get drunk but knowing he couldn't do either until Sam was awake in case his brother needed him or it became necessary to take him to an ER.

Looking down at the blood on his hands Dean couldn't be certain what was from earlier as he beat his fists into his tied and trapped brother's skin or what was fresher as he cleaned and stitched wounds but he suddenly wanted it gone.

"I'll be right back," he spoke as if Sam was awake and listening instead of still and sleeping, at least he prayed his brother was just sleeping due to pain, shock, exhaustion and too much whiskey poured down his throat. "I need to wash the blood off and change and…I'm sorry I let you down, little brother."

Lightly touching Sam's pale face, Dean pulled back at the soft whimper and tried to accept that things would only get worse when Sam woke up and the fear took hold.

Considering the shock Sam was in right now, the older hunter considered the blanket from the bed that he'd stripped off before laying Sam down but since he wasn't sure how clean it was to begin with he went with what he always did to keep his brother warm when nothing else was available.

"I'll be ten minutes max. You…hold onto this for me," he carefully draped his battered leather jacket over Sam and felt a little more at ease when he noticed his brother's fingers moving in his sleep to close around the jacket that had always covered Sam from the time he was six months old until now. "Doors and windows are salted and locked. You've got your medallion and…I've got mine again. Nothing's getting in this room or touching you."

Dean closed his hand around both his amulet and the anti-possession medallion, vowing that this time had gone too far and it was time to find a more permanent means to keep this protected from possession.

Stepping into the tiny bathroom, he was glad to see both a tub and shower since he was not relishing the idea of holding Sam up for any shower…if his brother let him near him…but just wanted a quick way to rinse the blood off.

The grey t-shirt and jeans were pulled off with a curse to be tossed back into the bedroom near where he'd discarded Sam's bloody jeans for disposal later.

He accepted that the clothes, or at least his, could be cleaned of the blood but Dean knew that he'd never be able to wear them again without seeing his brother's blood covering them and remembering that he'd caused Sam to bleed.

Stepping into the tub to allow the hot water to fall over him, Dean watched with a narrowed gaze as the blood washed off his skin but as his closed his hand into a fist it was the sharp stab of pain from the stitches in his own hand that reminded him yet again of the mistakes he'd made that allowed this to happen.

Sam had only just now started to get over Madison's death and he didn't need this crap hitting him, especially not when he was forced to face the very room his first girlfriend died in and that Sam would've died in if Dean hadn't gone back.

Now his brother had to cope with killing Madison and having a damn demon possess his brother and nearly kill him because that was the drawback that no one had mentioned before…Dean still had every memory that the demon thought and he knew it had planned to kill Sam after he'd…

A hard fist slammed into the wall as it began to pour back to him. He could hear the demon's slick tone whispering to him from the first moment what he'd do to Sam after he was done punishing him. Dean's stomach lurched at both what the demon thing wanted to use his body to do to his brother and what it told him that Meg had allowed to be done to Sam months ago.

Rage built up in Dean at how powerless he'd been. Now he understood a little more of why for weeks after Meg's attack that Sam had avoided looking at him and hardly slept through the night unless they were in the Impala.

His brother had suffered through so much more in that longer period of time and Dean was thankful that the demon had showed its hand only after a couple days. Days that Sam went untouched and unharmed but days that Dean's mind was forced to witness the things it did while his brother slept not three feet from him.

Rage was nothing new for Dean to feel these days. Neither was guilt. But it was the combination of the two mixed with the worry over Sam's injuries and extra guilt piled on that his stubborn little brother wouldn't say the exorcism ritual out of fear of the demon hurting Dean himself that finally caused the walls of restraint to crack.

Dean wasn't even aware of his already ragged and hoarse voice shouting itself out under the cover of the running water, his fist and knuckles bloody as he beat it into the wall while wishing it was himself or the demon being punished.

He wasn't certain how long he'd been shouting or slamming his fist against the tile, only snapping to at the sight of red streaking white tile and once again seeing blood covering his brother as he struggled to get him down from the chains and cuff that held him.

Memories and exhaustion took Dean to his knees as the water ran lukewarm finally and the young man wasn't certain if it was water or tears running down his face when he glanced in the steamy mirror to see the medallion around his neck again and it took his breath away at the realization that through hours of pain, humiliation and abuse Sam had kept the medallion he must have somehow picked up in the Impala's trunk in his hand.

"Sonuvabitch!" he snapped, wishing he had one shot at the demon for doing this and wishing he knew what to say to take this back or how to convince his brother it was over when Dean wasn't even certain if he could look into those deep puppy dog eyes without seeing fear or doubt and that would destroy him faster than anything.

The loss of trust from Sam and the memory of seeing how still and lifeless Sam had looked in the apartment…

Flashback: Palo Alto, CA: Twenty-some hours earlier:

"Sammy…"

Despite the pain his body was in, despite just wanting to curl up until the feelings of having that damn demon inside of him faded, the second Dean's widening green eyes landed on his brother hanging limply from one arm and covered in bruises, welts and cuts had him struggling to his feet to lurch across the floor.

"Sam!" he knew how badly Sam was hurt because Dean still had the memories but to see it now, to feel the slick feel of his brother's blood covering his own bleeding hand where the demon had cut him in retaliation for trying to free Sam nearly made him sicker than he figured he would be soon.

Being careful to not cause his brother any more pain than he'd be in already, Dean wrapped one arm around Sam's waist to try to lift him enough to relieve the obvious strain on his still cuffed right arm while reaching up to unhook that cuff and then taking the brunt of the fall when Sam's full weight dropped them to the grungy floor.

"Sam? Hey, open your eyes for me," Dean's voice shook but before he moved to touch his brother he slipped the anti-possession medallion back over his neck and vowed as soon as he could that he was finding a more permanent solution so this never happened again. "Sammy? Please, open your eyes?"

Sam's eyes stayed closed but it was clear by the movement under his lashes that he was fighting pain even unconscious which now that Dean was closer he thought it might be better that his brother wasn't awake.

"I'm going to get you out of here in a second, little brother," Dean could smell the whiskey on Sam but couldn't be certain what was from where it had been dumped over the raw welts or what was from his breath as he suddenly gasped a few little breaths of pain, stirring only when Dean carefully adjusted to support him while freeing his legs from all the ropes and the goddamn weights on his ankles.

Carding shaking fingers back through sweat slicked and sticky hair, Dean saw the full amount of bruises on Sam's face but it was when he felt the sticky feel of blood on the back of his head that he closed his eyes.

"I will burn the next demon we meet out just for the hell of it," he growled, his throat burning but ignoring that in favor of taking a quick look to make certain if he moved Sam it wouldn't do him more damage. "I'm sorry, Sammy. This never should've happened and I'll…make it right…as soon as we get the hell away from this goddamn place."

It sickened Dean in the worst way when he'd realized where the demon was taking Sam. It had gotten worse at the sight of seeing his brother forced to hang directly under the spot where he'd seen his girlfriend die.

A look at the wounds showed Dean which ones were the worst and he worked to stop the bleeding thigh wound where a knife had been stuck into it as best as he could right then so at least Sam wouldn't bleed to death before he got him someplace safe.

"Time to get moving," grunting under the effort of being reminded once again that the little brother that he'd once been able to pick up under one arm to lug around had grown four inches taller than Dean's own 6' and was dead weight like this, he still supported Sam as he got him out of the apartment slowly.

The demon's strength had allowed it to carry Sam up the steps from the street, but Dean's strength was human and he wasn't going to add to Sam's injuries by accidently falling down the steps so the going was slow and painful on both Winchesters.

By the first landing, Dean had to pause to catch his breath and wrap something around his bleeding hand before helping Sam the rest of the way down and couldn't begin to describe his relief at seeing his car parked so close.

"You're gonna stay here while I run up and grab the stuff up there," he spoke quietly, seeing his flannel in the back seat and grabbing it to slip onto his now shivering and in shock brother because he had no clue where in the hell Sam's own shirt or sweatshirt had gone and really didn't want to think too much on it right then.

Locking the car to give Sam some protection while he ran back upstairs to grab the duffel bag and anything that was theirs, he paused when he touched the laptop to silently thank it and whatever the hell had made Sam have the exorcism ritual running like it did.

A final look up at the ceiling had Dean frowning. He could still see the apartment as it had been the night of the fire, the night he'd barely saved his brother from burning up too while Jessica burned on the ceiling just like their Mom had years earlier.

Now as he pictured his brother hanging under that spot, he considered burning the whole damn place down but couldn't take the time since he wanted Sam far away from this place, this city, and the risk that the demon was still lurking to take another shot at his brother.

Throwing everything into the trunk, a flash of memory had Dean grabbing to the opened trunk to keep his balance as he remembered the demon hitting Sam in the back of the head before using a rag soaked in chloroform to knock his brother unconscious before taking an excruciating amount of time in the middle of the bar parking lot to tie his brother before locking him inside the Impala's trunk.

Dean felt his bitter disappointment that no one came out of the bar that might have been able to help Sam, not that the demon in control of him would have allowed that by then.

Slipping behind the wheel, Dean could actually feel the difference inside his car and swore the first chance he got that he was detailing her inside and out to get rid of the feel of that thing driving his car and touching his brother.

"You're going to be fine, Sammy. I'll take care of you and…oh, you've got to be freakin' kidding me?" Dean's eyes shot to the radio before slapping out a hand to turn the damn thing off with a low growl. "Forties music? Seriously? I got my ass possessed by a goddamn demon that likes forties music? I am so sorry, baby," he wondered if apologizing to his car would work better than trying to convince himself there were enough apologies in the world to offer his brother after this.

Looking over next to him, Dean didn't like how pale Sam was or how much his brother seemed to be shaking now. "Shh, it's okay. I'm going to take care of you and get you someplace warm," he carefully eased Sam over until he was leaning against his shoulder, keeping a hand on his neck to both allow him to feel his strong but slightly erratic pulse and to just have a hold of him to ground them both right then.

The urge to take Sam to a hospital came and went as Dean knew the odds were good that other demons could be lurking around and he couldn't take the chance of something coming at them in a hospital or finding a way to separate him and Sam.

The cuts on his own arms and hand were throbbing now and making him a little lightheaded but he drove on, out and away from Palo Alto until he figured they were off demon radar.

Sam whimpered now and then, lips moving but no words coming out unless it was soft pleading but as Dean's chest tightened he couldn't be sure if he was pleading for his brother's help or pleading for him not to hurt him more.

"Not gonna hurt you, Sammy," he whispered, voice going deep but Dean excused that from his throat being dry and raw already and not from it wanting to close up as he tried to forget the look on Sam's face when he realized what was happening.

Dean had at first feared that Sam might not catch on that it wasn't him in control because there had been moments since their Dad died that Dean's emotions had sent him into a tailspin of rage and anger, mostly aimed at his brother, but he'd felt some relief when Sam's first reaction was to know it wasn't him hurting him.

Now all he had to do was convince the younger man that he wouldn't hurt him again…once he got him stitched up.

The tiny town miles away from Palo Alto was too small to be on a map and the motel was run down and off the main road which suited Dean fine.

The room given to him by a sleepy eyed woman behind the counter was the last in the row and only had one double bed but again it suited because he needed it for Sam, not himself because Dean didn't plan on sleeping until Sam was awake and safe and then he could crash on the floor or in the Impala if Sam was too skittish with him at first.

A dozen missed calls from Bobby meant one hell of a lecture from the older hunter but since Dean figured he'd be getting a scathing lecture anyway another one wouldn't matter and he concentrated on getting Sam out of the car and onto the bed before nearly passing out from his own bleeding hand.

"Shit," Dean had wanted to clean Sam up first but he knew from experience that if he didn't stitch himself up first then he wouldn't be any good to Sam and took the time to clean and stitch the few cuts that were the worst, including his hand before settling down to dealing with what was important to him…taking care of his little brother.

It took Dean two hours or more of careful cleaning, stitching, bandaging and caring for all the bruises, welts, abrasions, cuts and whatever else he'd done to Sam while being a passenger in his own body and by the time he sat back to drop the wet cloth that he'd used to get some of the blood out of Sam's hair to allow him to check the wound at the back of his head, the hunter was bone tired and freaking out.

Not once during all of his moving, cleaning, or stitching had Sam even twitched. He whimpered a couple times and his fingers coiled into a fist as if he were still clutching the medallion that was now back around Dean's neck with the bronze amulet.

The fear that Sam was bleeding inside or that so many fists to the head had hurt him more than Dean could tell right now was huge but he feared hospitals for so many reasons and wouldn't risk taking Sam to one unless his brother's condition didn't improve somewhat by the morning.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I am so goddamn sorry, Sammy."

Present: motel bathroom:

Dean wasn't even aware that he'd been constantly whispering apologies to his brother until a sudden sound from the bedroom had his head snapping around.

"Sam?" grabbing a towel to quickly dry off, he snagged his boxers and jeans before stepping cautiously back into the bedroom with one hand automatically going for his weapon only to remember he'd left it in the room, on his duffel before entering the bathroom to shower. "Sammy?"

Letting his eyes move slowly while trying to gauge where the sound had come from or if it might've just been his mind playing tricks on him after so long without sleep and too much worry, Dean's gaze went to the bed first to check on Sam when suddenly he felt all the breath whoosh out of his lungs at seeing the rumpled bed, the discarded leather jacket, bloodied bandages…but no Sam.

"Oh, no, not again," Dean's temper as well as his fear spiked as he took another step to look but not seeing his brother, instead he caught sight of his Colt being not where he'd left it and an open motel door. "Shit, shit, shit! Sammy!"

Instant fear that somehow the demon had followed them here, had gotten past the salt lines and all Dean's other precautions to grab his brother somehow made Dean's tired and not alert senses less attuned than normal and he didn't sense the danger until it was too late.

Whirling at a sound from behind him, from behind the bathroom door, Dean's hand shot up to block whatever it was he sensed but missed to take the blunt end of his pistol to the side of his head and dropped to the motel floor with a groan and Sam's name on his lips as things faded to black…

TBC

A/N: Okay, so I said originally three chapters but blame the plot bunny who decided it wanted to drag out the angst, guilt and healing bonding brother moments into another chapter…and yeah, I did just knock Dean out to leave yet another cliffey. Where's Sam? Why's the motel door open? Did the demon follow or is this something else? Stay tuned for the final (I swear on the Impala) chapter.