A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and added this to favorites! I'm so sorry for the late update and keep in mind that I am against death fics :) so if anyone was really and truly worried, don't be. :) Again, sorry this is so late; I am SO behind on writing it isn't even a joke anymore.
Brothers, Always
Dean
Dean has learned over the years that any hunt that has to do with a witch is bad news. When he was eighteen a witch hit Sam with a curse so hard that he was vomiting and leaking blood from every opening in his body for three days before their dad finally found the counter curse, right when Sammy was teetering on death. When he was twenty two Dean went on his first hunt without his brother and it was a witch in Utah taking blood sacrifices. He and his dad took care of her relatively easily but the whole time Dean was solely focused on the ache in his chest that was put there by Sam leaving for college. Then not to forget the witch episode last year when his life was literally ticking away and he got hit with a hex bag while on the job. Even now Dean's stomach clenches as he remembers how bad that had hurt before Ruby, of all people, stuffed that gross shit down his throat. This witch hunt was absolutely no different; in fact, it might even take the cake in 'worst witch hunts EVER' department. Honestly, it might not have been all that bad if all the other things in their life weren't going so horribly, but since it is, this witch hunt is just about the worst thing ever. Dean could almost care less that Samhain had risen for about thirty minutes and that another seal had been broken. What Dean does care about, first and foremost, is that Sam had used his powers again when he promised not to. The scene he walked in to, Sam holding out his hand and squeezing the demon from the host, caused a supernova explosion of emotions: disappointment, betrayal, hurt, worry, and the most painful, abandonment. It sounds stupid as all hell because Sam was right there with him but Sam isn't Sam anymore, and not even because of the demon blood inside of him. Sam isn't Sam because he had to become someone else when Dean was gone, he had to change. Now Dean's back and all he wants is for Sam to come back too, but he doesn't think his little brother is getting the memo.
After Samhain was exorcised back to hell and he locked eyes with Sam, Dean almost immediately forgave him. The apology, the 'please don't hate me' look in Sam's eyes and the slight tremble in his jaw nearly made him crumble, because it was so Sammy that it almost didn't matter that Sam had just used his powers. Almost…but it still did. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to open his mouth because he didn't want to have another show down like the one they had before the rougarou hunt. In his eyes, that fight was well justified, but that doesn't mean it was any fun for either of them. So instead, he tried to erase the emotion from his face and he turned and walked away, knowing that eventually Sam would follow him out to the Impala.
He tried so hard to keep his mouth shut in the car that his face muscles tensed up like they were injected with botox. Every fiber of his big brother being was telling him to scream at Sam, ask him why he didn't just wait for him to get there to help him out or just plain, "What the hell were you thinking?" but he stays silent. Another screaming match isn't something they need, not now.
Sam doesn't seem much more comfortable than Dean is, he's constantly shooting glances over his way like he's ready for Dean to explode and his body is as tense as a bow string. When they pull into the motel, Sam jumps out of the Impala so fast that Dean barely sees it happen. Sam's lingering outside of the car like he's waiting for Dean to follow him but Dean doesn't move. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly as he stares out ahead of him, weighing his options. He knows he's not ready to be trapped in a motel room with his younger brother. The only thing that's going to come out of that is unbearably tense silence or possibly an all out fight, neither of which he feels like going through right now.
"I'll be back later, don't wait up," The words are out of Dean's mouth before he even realizes it and he's backing out the second Sam is far enough away from the car.
He doesn't even know where he's going, doesn't know where to go, he just knows that he doesn't want to see Sam right now. It's kind of a foreign feeling because he grew up making sure Sam was always in his sight, always within his reach just in case. There was a time and it seems like a life time ago, that not having Sam in his sights would put him on the edge of panic and make his skin crawl all wrong. Watch out for Sammy, take care of Sammy, keep Sammy safe. It's his life, or at one point it was, things are getting kind of hazy in that department now. Dean sighs deeply and shakes his head, pushing his thoughts away from better days and forcing them on more pressing issues, like where he's going. He remembers seeing a few bars in town, which is the most promising place to be right now, but for some reason he's just not in the drinking mood. This strikes him as odd because thanks to recent events, his head is an angst ridden whirlpool just waiting for some Jack to soothe the hurt, but the idea of alcohol is making his stomach churn. Maybe he just needs to drive; he's feeling restless, itching for something to put his fist into to make up for all the emotional crap spinning inside him. But he doesn't think going out looking for a fight on Halloween is such a stellar idea, mostly because he doesn't feel like spending the night in jail.
He ends up in some pizza joint, which is damn near dead because everyone is either trick or treating or getting smashed, depending on the age group.
The gangly teenager at the counter looks so bored that misery probably looks like paradise to him, and Dean winces in sympathy. He remembers the time he had a temporary job in some no name town, and had to miss out on an awesome Halloween date because of it. Dean hated his life that night.
"What can I get you?" The teen asks, looking like he couldn't care less.
"Two slices of meat lover's and a coke," Dean says, watching as he punches the buttons on the cash register a little too hard.
"$11.52," he announces, looking at Dean expectantly.
Dean grumbles, "Christ, is it made of gold or something?" as he hands over a twenty.
The teenager snatches it from him wordlessly before handing over the change, looking pointedly at the styrofoam cup on the counter labeled 'tips.'
Dean glances at the cup before glancing at the kid, and dumps in the forty eight cents he just got back with a smug grin.
"Whatever," the teen mutters before going back to the kitchen to get the pizza.
Dean grimaces as he wonders if the kid's gonna spit in it or not but then decided that it'd be too easily to see on top of pizza, and his shoulder relax. The kid is back with his food only a few moments later and Dean shoots him a half grin, half smirk, before sitting down to inhale the pizza.
He only gets through the first piece and half his coke when things start to go really, really bad. The kid behind the corner finally got bored enough to pick up the phone, something that Dean wasn't even paying attention to until he caught part of the conversation.
"Oh man, again? God, those two are morons. One of these days someone is going to come and pull a gun on their asses. So they just pushed the kid out? Hope he's going to be ok, the last guy that hustled them lost his teeth…well if he's that tall maybe he has an advantage."
Dean pauses and his blood runs cold. There's no way. Sam's back at the motel moping, probably nursing one hell of a headache. There's no way that he's getting his ass kicked, Dean's just being paranoid…there's a lot of tall guys walking around. So then why was there a pit forming in his gut, aching worse than a sucker punch?
In an instant, Dean has his phone out, pressing speed dial one and waiting with his teeth grit in worry.
'This is Sam, leave a message…'
"Damn it, Sammy," Dean growls and slams the phone shut.
The pit in his stomach has deepened and there's a prickly feeling running all up and down his spine, burning in the worst way. Dean hasn't felt it in a while but he'd know the sensation anywhere; his Sammy alarm was going off and it was going off with a vengeance.
Dean clears his head and puts on his game face, mentally going through a check list of what needs to be done to dig Sam out of whatever mess he might be in. Step one: grill the kid on the phone for information.
"…all I'm saying is, if those two schizoids get themselves killed or thrown in prison, it wouldn't be like they didn't have it coming."
Dean stalks up to the counter and yanks the phone from the teenager's hand, who yelps with a startled, "hey!"
"You're going to tell me what you were just talking about and where it's going down, and you're not going to give me any bullshit. Agreed?" Dean asks with the phone in his hand, glaring at the teenager like a raging bull.
"Yeah, yeah ok, whatever, man," he stutters out nervously as he takes a few steps away from Dean and the counter
"Start talking."
"These two guys, Zeke and Greg, they hang out down at the bar on Canal…"
"What's it called?" Dean demands impatiently.
"Mia's," he replies instantly.
"Ok, what about these guys?"
"They're…they're idiots, ok? They have some sort of special training and they like to show it off whenever they can…"
Dean frowns, all kinds of horrible thoughts running through his head, "What kind of training? Weapons, what?"
"No, nothing like that, just hand to hand stuff but it's pretty intense. You know, stuff that would put Chuck Norris to shame," He says, relaxing more now that he realizes Dean isn't going to bash his head in.
Dean snorts and his worry dissipates one notch. To him, Chuck Norris has nothing on Winchesters. But then Dean remembers that Sam just got the snot beat out of him by a super demon and the little bit of worry that went away comes back full force.
"And these guys, they're at the bar right now showing off their ninja stuff?"
The teen nods frantically, "Yeah, some tall guy hustled them at pool and got made, they pushed him into the back alley."
"And no one went to help?" Dean exclaims, outraged.
"No way, man, Zeke and Greg? They fuck people up," he says with a 'duh' look on his face.
Dean rolls his eyes, "Perfect. Mia's on Canal, right?"
Another jittery nod from the teen and Dean is storming out of the pizza joint, and pushing the pedal to the Impala all the way to the floorboard.
Dean's adrenalin is starting to kick into high gear with fear and worry fueling it like gasoline to fire. If it turns out not to be Sam he's going to feel like a real jack ass but the tingling on the back of his neck and the shakiness in his hands has him thinking differently. Sam's getting the tar beat out of him, Dean knows it, can feel it deeper than his bones.
Irritatingly enough, Dean has to remind himself to drive slow, because it's Halloween and the last thing he needs on his conscious is a dead kid, killed by the front end of his baby. So he forces himself to crawl to Canal Street, all the while keeping an eye out for a bloody, Sasquatch sized brother. It feels like it takes forever but Dean finally spots the neon pink sign labeling Mia's, and Dean mentally smirks. Sam would pick the bar with the pink sign.
Dean makes sure that his Beretta is tucked in the back of his jeans before getting out of the Impala and stealthily making his way to the back alley.
He hears it before he sees it, the sounds of a really gnarly fight echoing against the brick buildings. He hears a punch, a grunt and the distinct sound of someone spitting the blood from their mouth. Dean's whole body is tense as he creeps along the walls, the street light from the back alley getting brighter with every step and the sounds getting more defined. He can hear someone groaning, someone breathing raggedly and someone talking.
"No one busts my cousin's nose and gets away with it."
Dean has heard that tone before because he's used it himself, when someone or something hurts Sammy. So he knows whatever is going to come next is not going to be good.
When he finally steps on to the scene, he sees what he can only describe as rage red. Sam is on the ground, struggling to get up and some guy is approaching him with deadly intent on his face. Dean can see the guy take a step back and instinctively, Dean knows he's about to deliver what would be a devastating kick to Sam's midsection, but Dean's not having it. No one is going to lay one more hand on his brother tonight.
"Hey!"
The guy stops, startled, as he turns to face Dean.
"Keep moving, man, you don't want to get into this," he says and thankfully, steps away from Sam and closer to Dean.
"Uh, actually, I do because that's my kid brother you're wailing on and no one gets to do that but me," Dean replies with a confident smirk, his entire body humming with the fight that's about to go down.
"Your kid brother is an idiot for hustling us and trying to take off with the money," The man sneers as he starts to slip into a defensive fighting stance.
Dean can't help but agree with him there because Sam has been doing some pretty idiotic things lately, but none that allow someone to beat the holy hell out of him.
"Yeah, well he is an idiot but not for hustling you bozos," Dean says then eyes the man critically, "Seriously, dude, zombies?"
The guy looks seriously pissed as he snarls, "Last chance, walk away."
Dean falls into his own fighting stance, slipping into it like a comfortable tee shirt, and replies, "Not going to happen."
Dean figures that the guy is either too pissed off to start this off right or Sam wore him down, because as he charges, Dean easily throws a hard right hook into the guy's face. He barely stumbles and comes at Dean who blocks everything before throwing his own punches, disgruntled when only one of them connects. However the hit sends his adversary to the ground in a sprawl and Dean can't help the small tug of a victory grin on his face.
Dean notices Sam inching towards him, using the wall as an anchor and he mentally slaps the kid on the back of the head. What the hell does Sam think he's doing? He obviously doesn't have the energy to stand yet alone try to get back in this. When this is all said and done, Dean's going to deliver Sam an ass kicking himself for both being dumb enough to get into this mess and for making Dean worry.
Dean's attention leaves Sam as the guy he's wailing on gets up and in a flash, drives his fist into Dean's face. Dean falters and sees stars. In a way, he guesses the kid at the pizza place wasn't lying, because it's been a long time since he's been hit that hard in the face by something that wasn't a supernatural nasty.
"Sonuvabitch," Dean mutters as he tries to straighten out his vision, which is now double.
That's when he catches sight of something that he's seen once and never wanted to see again. Suddenly the guy he's fighting doesn't matter anymore, the only thing that matters is the slim ball coming up behind Sam with a blade glinting in his hand, and Sam's completely oblivious. God, it was like it was happening all over again, like he was actually back in Cold Oak. Pavement melts away to mud, starry twinkling skies swirl into darkness and Dean can actually feel the beginning of rain hitting his face and plastering his hair. Sam's stumbling along, his injured arm cradled to his chest but his face is nothing but sheer relief, relief at seeing Dean. Oh God, no.
Dean shakes himself out of it and the real world comes crashing back into him like a tidal wave and he does the only thing he has time to do, the only thing he ever seems to have time to do. He yells for his little brother.
"Sammy!"
Dean knows he's too late, he knows like he knew Sam was in trouble, like he knew when Sam sunk to the ground two years ago that he was going to lose him. Dean hasn't even realized that he's been knocked to the ground and that he was about to get another fist to the face, all he knows is that he can hear Sam's pain filled grunt and can hear the blade sliding back out of his brother. Suddenly Dean feels like he needs to vomit.
"Sam! God damnit, get off me, you son of a bitch!" Dean shouts as he struggles to get the goon that's on top of him off.
Dean's not afraid to play dirty now as he trusts his fist into the throat of the man on top of him, who immediately starts coughing and gasping and falls to the side of Dean. Dean scrambles to his feet and runs to his brother, who is on his knees and staring down at the dark red spot on his shirt in wonder.
Dean can feel the bile wanting to climb up his throat as he falls to his own knees in front of Sam, and all he can think is, 'No, no, no, not like this, please, anything but this.'
Sam's blinking owlishly like he just can't believe what's happened, and Dean's right there with him. He can't believe this is happening again.
"Hey, Sam, look at me," Dean says softly but urgently as he grabs a handful of Sam's shirt to keep him upright and his other hand goes to Sam's face.
Sam winces as Dean touches the bruises and cuts on his skin but he doesn't pull away.
"Dean?" Sam asks as if he's surprised that he's there.
"Yeah, dude, just hold on, ok? You're going to be alright, just hang on," Dean says soothing, not even trying to hide how his voice is shaking and how there are tears steadily making themselves known on his face.
Dean pulls off his jacket and slowly lowers Sam to the ground, muttering apologies every time Sam makes a face or moans in pain. He stuffs the jacket under Sam's head before ripping off his button up to push against Sam's stab wound.
"Hold it there, Sammy, I know it hurts but you have to slow the bleeding, ok? It's going to be ok," Dean says as he pushes Sam's hands to hold the shirt against his bleeding side.
Sam nods and Dean's hand tightens on Sam's, "You're going to be ok."
Dean keeps one hand tight over Sam's as they hold the shirt to his side and with his free hand, Dean whips out his cell phone and dials 911. He barks out his location and what happened in as little detail as possible, and hangs up, shoving the phone back in his pocket.
Dean's well aware that Zeke and Greg, he has no idea which is which, have high tailed it so that they wouldn't get caught by the cops but Dean's not worried. They'll get what's coming to them and if Sam dies…then Dean has no problem making sure that they meet the same fate.
"Dean…"
"Hey, hey, no talking, ok? Just save your strength, the ambulance is on it's way," Dean says as he push the hair back off Sam's face and discreetly pushing his fingers against Sam's neck, feeling his pulse.
Dean's panic level sky rockets as he feels how slow Sam's heart is beating and he can't help the choked cry that escapes him, along with the tears that are steadily dripping from his eyes.
"No, goddamn it, Sam, you hang on. Do you hear me? Hold. On. Don't you dare leave me again," Dean pleads as Sam's mouth opens and closes like he's trying to speak but can't, "I can't make no more deals, Sammy, the angels will yank me right back out and none of those cross roads bitches want me anymore anyways. Please, Sam."
"Sorry, Dee…" Sam gasps then coughs as blood sputter from his mouth.
"Nothing to be sorry for, Sammy, ok? Nothing. Just don't give up, come on," Dean begs as he wipes away the blood from his brother's lips.
"I tried, tried to…Dean, I'm sorry," Sam chokes as some more blood dribbles from his mouth.
Dean immediately wipes it away and tries to fight how his chest wants to freeze in sheer terror, and how he's just seconds away from letting out gut wrenching sobs.
Suddenly Dean sees the most beautiful thing in the world, red and blue lights bouncing off the walls around him. He let's out a hoarse laugh and turns his attention back to Sam.
"See, Sam? They're here, you're going to be just fine, little brother. You hear me? You're going to be fine," Dean says, desperately praying that he's telling Sam the truth.
But Sam's eyes aren't open. In fact, Sam's not breathing at all.
"Sam?" Dean asks as he moves his fingers back to Sam's pulse point, his whole arm shaking with dread.
Dean can feel Sam's last heart beat pump under his fingers before it stills completely and just like that, Dean's entire world crashes for the second time.
"Sammy, no!" Dean cries out desperately as he immediately starts CPR, "You don't get to do this again! You hear me? Breathe, goddamit!"
Dean puts his mouth to Sam's, frantically pushing air into his lungs, before he straightens up again and continues compressions.
"Sam!"
That's how the paramedics and police found Dean, with him pushing on his brother's chest and sobbing out pleas for his brother to come back.