thank you all again for the wonderful reviews. hope you all enjoy the next chapter. :) ps: enjoy the new episode tonight.
D: same as before. dont sue me. :)
SOMETHING LOST
Chapter 5
Sam laid in the darken motel room, his eyes staring unseeingly up at the cracked ceiling, his mind unable to rest. The minutes ticked by like hours and, had anyone asked, Sam would have sworn that he had been in that small room for days. Everything was just becoming too much for him, his world slowly spiraling out of control. There had been no sign of the three mysterious strangers in the room, but then, Sam didn't really think there would be. Hell, the only reason he even asked for the same room was to feel like he had made some progress, even if it was only imaginary.
Truthfully, the younger Winchester didn't even know why they were still looking. Dean was safe and fine, and there was no trace of the thing that had taken him. So, in reality, their job was done. But then, this was much more then just a job. Besides, according to the letter, Sam 'owed' them one, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. After all, he had no idea who these people were, or what side they were on. Maybe they were using Dean's safe return as a form of blackmail, and maybe he would be the one to pay if Sam didn't keep up his end of the deal. And Sam suddenly found his tired brain stuffed with even more worst case scenarios.
His mind drifted back to the note that was still hidden in his pocket, his thoughts racing, searching, for anything, any face that he could put to the letter, but there was still nothing. He knew that he should tell his brother, that he should quite being so secretive, but a little voice in that back of his head kept telling him to keep his mouth shut. It wasn't that he was worried about getting his brother mad, no, that he did on a regular basis, it was that he didn't know how the older man would react. He was sure that Dean knew who 'K' was, or at least knew enough about their fellow hunters to find out.
And Sam was positive that his big brother would leave him out of the loop. It was always that way when it came to the other hunters, and the events of the past year had only proved to reinforce his brother's protectiveness. Sam knew he was different, that he had a tie to the Demon, and that scared him to no end. But what he had never expected, what he had never been prepared for, was the reaction from the rest of the small hunting community. Many saw Sam as nothing more then the things they were hunting, the evils of the world that needed to be erased, and those that didn't chose to keep a low profile rather then help the brothers. And so, as of late, it had been just he and Dean, and even Sam had started to believe that that was enough.
But he knew, deep down, that it wasn't and that they did indeed need help. And Sam hoped that somehow this person or these people were different, that they were the kind of people Sam wanted to know, needed to know, and he wasn't about to let his brother shield him from them.
A small moan from the bed beside him grabbed the younger man's attention, the noise growing louder and more fearful with each passing second. Sam pushed himself up as quickly as he could, his eyes immediately falling on the sweaty and pale form of his brother, kicking feebly at the blankets as his head rocked back and forth, as though trying to throw the images from his mind.
"No... Please... I'm sorry... Please... Leave me alone." Dean mumbled fiercely in his sleep, his voice strained and breaking, eyes clenched tight against his internal attacker.
Sam sat slowly on the bed beside him, gently holding his shoulders as he tried to force the older man to still, all the while whispering quietly to him, telling him everything was all right, that he was safe. Sam didn't know what else to do, his brother didn't have nightmares, his brother didn't get scared. Well unless you count planes and rats, but those weren't really fears, they were just more quirks for his older brother's very quirky personality. And the younger boy had to suppress a smile as he felt his brother still beneath him, his breathing evening out. How could someone who fought off wendigos and werewolves be afraid of rats?
"Sam." Dean whispered as his eyes fluttered open.
"Hey, how're you doing?"
"I'm fine. Why are you sitting on my bed?"
"You were having a nightmare."
"I don't think that requires cuddling."
Sam noticed that he had indeed been nearly hugging Dean, his left arm around the older man's shoulders, right hand still resting on his chest. He immediately pulled away and moved to sit on his own bed, shooting his injured brother death glares the entire time. But all he was met with was his older brother's trade mark smirk and sarcasm.
"It's ok, Sam. Do you need a hug?" He asked evenly, almost seriously.
"Shut up."
"Have you slept?"
"I've not slept."
"Damn it, Sam, your gonna run yourself into the ground. And besides, I saw something on the news that people who don't sleep get dumber."
"But you sleep all the time."
"Bitch."
"Jerk. You gonna tell me what you were dreaming about?"
"No."
"Dean."
"Hot bikini clad girls on a beach."
"And that required you yelling: no, please help me, and let me go?"
Dean's smile just grew wider as his eyes took on a mischievous glint. "Oh yes it can, Sammy. You see, the first girl, wow, she was smokin, and she did this thing..."
"Stop, shut up, I'm sorry I asked."
"I thought you wanted to hear about my dream?"
"I take it back, I prefer to be kept in suspense."
"You're such a girl." Dean mumbled as he shifted in the bed, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. His body really was killing him, and he wished that he had indeed been dreaming about girls on a beach, but that, unfortunately, was not the case. He had been dreaming of the cave again, of the unknown assailant that had trapped him there, and of the pain, of the violence he had to endure. It was so real, he could have sworn that he felt everything all over again, his body ridged with fear and pain. Every cut, every punch, every burn, he felt it all, screaming through his veins like before, all so real that he could barely stand it.
"Dean!"
"What?" He asked startled, fear and alarm evident in his brother's voice.
"You're bleeding."
"What?" He looked down at the beige blanket wrapped around his body and, to his surprise, saw a pool of crimson spreading across the fabric, growing from one of his many healing injuries. "I must have pulled some stitches."
"Let me look."
"No." Dean stated tiredly, pulling the blankets up to his chin.
"Now who's being the girl. Come on, dude, let me see." Sam commented as he turned on the bedside lamp and pulled the covers off his brother. He couldn't help but notice the fear that lingered in the older man's eyes, as well as the fact that his body was still trembling and sweaty. He was terrified, that much the younger boy could see, and he wasn't about to let his brother's petulance derail his concern.
He peeled back the blankets slowly, revealing his brother's bare and bandaged chest, his eyes growing wider as he took in the state of Dean's torso. The wrappings were soaking up the blood, but Sam could see that its source wasn't beneath them. There, down the side of his brother's body was a long, deep, and definitely new cut. But, that wasn't the worst of it. Up and down Dean's arms were a number of burns and new bruises, all very fresh and very real. Something had attacked his brother, beat him and tormented him, while Sam lay awake by his side.
But there was no way, Sam would have seen it, he would have heard it. He had been wide awake, his brother a mere two feet away, he would have seen something break into the room and attack him. 'Obviously not', his mind snapped at him as he took inventory of his brother's injuries, 'since here he is beaten to hell again, and this time right next to you.' And for the hundredth time in the past week the younger Winchester felt completely helpless. His brother was still suffering, still in danger, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. And suddenly, the tired young man felt like a complete failure.
"Dean, these injuries are fresh."
"I know, I can remember the past week."
"No, I mean, fresh like, within the hour. They haven't even started to heal."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"The cut on your side." Sam stated as he began to clean the wound, his body relaxing when he noticed that, though deep, it would not require stitching. "And the burns, they just happened."
"What?" Dean began and Sam couldn't help but look up at the raw fear he heard in his voice. He had to be strong, had to stay strong, if not for himself then for Dean. He couldn't wallow in self pity, not now, not when it was obvious that his brother needed him.
"Its ok, Dean, they don't look too bad. I'm just gonna clean and bandage them."
"Sam, I dreamt that it was happening."
"I thought you were dreaming about hot girls." Sam joked, wanting and needed to chase the fear from his brother's tortured eyes.
"Yeah, they were hardcore." The older man answered halfheartedly.
"Dean, these bruises, they're the same as the older ones, from the cave."
"I know. Every time I close my eyes I'm back there. I can feel it all over again. What the hell's happening, Sammy?" Sam's heart broke and the sheer desperation lacing through his brother's words. Dean was scared, being attacked while he slept, and Sam knew, then and there, that they needed help on this one, his pride be damned.
"I don't know, but we'll figure it out. Hey, Dean."
"Yeah."
"There was a note."
"Huh?"
"On the door where I found you. There was a note."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know. I mean, you're my brother, I should have found you."
"What did it say?"
" 'you owe me one... K.' But I have no clue who that is. Dean?" Sam looked up into his brother's face, his features tightening and sagging, his eyes growing wide, but still dulling. And it was heart breaking to witness. Sam was right, Dean knew who this mysterious 'K' was, but the younger man had not been expecting this reaction. He could see his brother melting away, his face unbelievably sad as his mind drifted back into a long buried memory. It was the same look that crossed his face every time he thought about Mary, every time he let his mind drift to the possibility of what if, of what else he could have had besides the hunt. And Sam found himself not just wanting, but needing to know every thing there was about the person behind his brother's memories.