Thanks for all the wonderful comments and support for this story. Sorry for the delay but here is the next chapter. I hope you like and will comment on it. There will be one more chapter after this one. Special thanks to Sheila and Alaina :) They have been brave enough to read and advise on this.

Unconventional

OR

When good fans, go bad

Chapter 3

Sam had no idea where he was going once he got outside. He started to bolt wildly past a row of Impalas, then stopped, his eyes wide and frantic as they darted around the parking lot. The police were still talking to witnesses and other convention goers were still gathered in small groups laughing and saying their good-byes. It made Sam's skin crawl.

And then his eyes lit on one particular car. Dusty and more worn then her siblings, his heart ached as he moved towards it, his fingers reaching searchingly for the door handle.

The car was locked and he almost sobbed until rationale overrode and he pulled out his own set of keys. A heartbeat later he was slipping into the front passenger seat, hunching his shoulders and sliding down as far as he could go; making himself as small as possible, as unnoticeable as he could. Sam closed his eyes and tried to keep from throwing up.

It never occurred to him that Dean wouldn't find him quickly, he just hoped quickly was quick enough.

-------

Dean was furious as he stormed out of the inn and down the front stairs; furious and worried. He focused that anger on finding his brother, his every sense tingling, all instinct forced forward. Scanning as he moved, lethal and single minded, Dean was in a dangerous zone: his brother had been hurt and he needed to find him. Heaven help any idiot who got in the way.

Stalking past the few convention stragglers, the hunter deftly avoided the police as he looked for any indication of which way Sam had gone. And then he stopped a few feet past the front of his car.

Something hummed, visceral and familiar, raising goose bumps across his skin, tugging hard at his soul. Slowly Dean turned, his eyes grazing the metal, skimming glass, his heart pounding hard.

Sam?

Head cocked to the side, Dean cautiously approached the Impala, afraid the shadow he saw would simply disappear if it knew it'd been seen until finally, he let out relieved breath.

Sam.

His brother was in the car.

Crunched down, impossibly small, but in the car.

Safe.

Dean paused for a moment, uncertain, not really sure what Sam would want but then the hurting younger man lifted his head. Anguished hazel locked with concerned green and Dean knew exactly what to do.

It was so clear, it actually hurt.

He needed to get his brother the hell away from here.

Moving around to the driver's side, Dean unlocked the car door and yanked it open. He slid into his seat and cast his brother an appraising look as he pulled the heavy door closed. The kid looked like shit so he didn't ask the obvious because he already knew the answer. Sam would say he was fine when he obviously wasn't, so Dean skipped the pleasantry. "Where to?" he asked instead, letting his concern bleed into his face. Sam read him better than any book.

"Does it matter?" came the quiet reply. "Just somewhere else."

"Somewhere else I can do," Dean said easily as he started the car and pulled away from the inn. Beside him Sam let out a shaky little sigh but didn't say anything so Dean took the cue, kept the music off and just drove. He had no idea where they were going and decided to just play it by ear, trusting that Sam would let him know when he was ready to stop.

And the kid did. About an hour later when he suddenly turned white as a sheet, grabbed at the car door and tried to get out.

Dean was doing about 60 mph at the time.

------

Sam wasn't thinking. He just stared blindly through the front windshield as his brother skillfully maneuvered the black beast away from the inn. Every few moments Dean glanced at him and the younger man knew his brother was worried. He wished he could convince Dean that he was fine but didn't have the energy to back the words so he sat quietly and tried not to think instead.

It worked pretty good until his eyes eventually slid closed, weighed down by exhaustion and buffered by his brother being near. Sam drifted off.

But there was no rest for him as behind the dark veil of sleep his tormentors waited…

Unwanted fingers caressed Sam's bare skin promising savage destruction with their lust. Hot whispers bit at his ear and chewed new fear under the guise of affection. His hips were held down, her slight weight pinning him as she rocked hard and cried out in her ecstasy –

But it was him that threw terror through the hunter and sent him scrambling for consciousness, his stomach constricting, his blood curdling. Painful and lurching, Sam tore at the car door.

"Sam!" Dean's voice was loud and panicked as the car skidded sideways and bucked as it tried to stop.

A hard grip on his arm was the only thing that kept Sam inside as he got the door open –

And then the car stopped and Sam was tumbling out onto cold gravel. The little rocks ripped at his hands and scuffed through the knees of his jeans but Sam didn't care as he rolled up onto them then vomited hard.

Tears streaked his face as he continued to retch, his body shaking hard, his brothers voice a blur in the background. He only knew Dean must have grabbed him when Sam's strength would have dropped him face first into the mess but instead he was gently but strongly rolled away and down onto his side.

He saw Dean's knees as his brother crouched down in front of him but closed his eyes before he could see his face. Sam didn't want to see the emotion that would be there, having nothing left to deal with either his own or his brothers'. And thankfully Dean seemed to understand because, except for a tightening of the now noticeable grip on his shoulder, the older hunter didn't say anything. He just let Sam lay there, heaving and shaking until the other man could breathe again.

And then Dean sighed, "You know, bro," he kept his voice soft, "I was thinking now might be a good time to stop for the night… That is unless you're partial to that spot, and then, well, I suppose it's not too cold to camp."

Sam opened his eyes and moved his head so he could see his brother's face. Dean looked tired, concerned… and cold. Sometime during Sam's emotional vomit-fest, the other man had slipped out of his jacket and it was now covering Sam. His eyes burned as that simple gesture reminded him of how much he was loved… and how much he didn't deserve it.

Nothing had happened. Sure Heather and Gus certainly had intent and there'd been some uncomfortable moments for certain but Dean had gotten there before anything could really happen and yet here was Sam, puking and shivering on the side of the road like something had happened. God, and he'd thought it was impossible to hate himself any more than he already did.

Slowly forcing himself up, Sam shook his head. "You hate camping," he reminded his brother before he carefully gave Dean his jacket back and wiped his arm across his mouth. Instantly a bottle of water was offered and he gratefully used it to wash out the bad taste in his mouth and then swallow some down.

"Hey," Dean feigned indignation. "I've pitched a tent or two on occasion."

Sam's mouth twitched, wondering if his brother had set himself up so nicely on purpose. "Trouser tents don't count, bro." Although knowing Dean, as the older man sputtered over a comeback and failed, probably not.

Settling on a glare instead, Dean just pointed towards the car, "Just – get in the car," then stopped him before Sam could do more then open the door. His face turned serious, a hint of real fear in his eyes, "Do me one favor though?" He actually waited for Sam to nod. "No more trying to jump out of moving cars okay? I'm getting too old for that kind of shit."

Realizing only now what he'd done, Sam blushed slightly and reached up to scratch self-consciously at the back of his neck, his other hand keeping his jacket clutched closed. "Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry for that."

"Don't apologize for it," Dean watched him closely. "Just don't do it again, okay?"

"Okay," Sam nodded then got in the car.

------

Dean hunched forward on the bed of the small motel room he'd rented for the night. He hung his head and scrubbed a hand across his face in weary agitation, the little stunt his brother had pulled trying to get out of the car, taking years off his life. Watching Sam falling out of the door, as he tried desperately to stop the car in time was not something Dean ever wanted to see repeated. Scratch that. This whole day was something he'd prefer to never repeat again.

His emotions were boiled; bubbling from raw fury at the people who had attacked his brother to a more simmering anger at Chuck for not warning them (not that the guy had ever given them a heads up before but still…). Quiet concern for Sam poached in conflict and stewed with repulsion for the entire situation.

So yea, boiled pretty much summed it up.

But even worse was the strangling feelings of helplessness that had him unsure how to deal with this, how to help his brother. Sam insisted he was fine and had kept that mantra up right until he disappeared behind the closed bathroom door a few minutes ago. But Dean knew different.

Sam was anything but okay.

How could he be?

Sam was a Winchester and Winchesters were proud, strong, stubborn sonsabitches laced with a dangerous streak of defiance and finished off with a cocky self-confidence that boasted bravado on the darkest of nights. Compounded by Sam's own special need for independence and desire to be seen as an equal to his larger than life father and brother, and there was just no way in hell that Sam could be fine.

Dean wasn't fine and he wasn't even the one who'd been attacked.

One thing Dean did know was that he had to talk to his brother about something Chuck had babbled on about just moments before Dean's fist found the little prophet's face for the second time that day. And that was Sam's apparent belief that Chuck thought he somehow deserved this.

Knowing his over-thinking, oversized little brother, Sam had probably globalized the sentiment, and that was definitely something Dean needed to scrub out of the kid's brain. No-one, and especially not his brother deserved something like that.

"Hey, Dean?"

Dean glanced at the bathroom, the sound of his brother's muffled voice over the sound of the shower drawing him out of his thoughts. He moved towards the door so he could hear Sam better. "Yeah?"

"Do we have any more mouth-wash?"

The older man frowned. He was pretty sure there'd been an almost full bottle in the first aid kit. Out of habit, the kit was one of the first things unloaded into any new room and always placed in the bathroom for easy access and sometimes privacy. "Did you check the kit?" he yelled through the door.

He heard his brother moving around on the other side, the sound of the water being turned off. "What?"

"I said," Dean repeated himself a bit more loudly and clearly, "Did you check the first aid kit?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam sounded hesitant and Dean could almost see the sheepish look on his brother's face. "It's, uh, empty."

"Empty?" Dean opened his mouth to say more but then something clicked and he let out a heavy sigh instead and moved towards his own duffle bag. "Hold on a sec," he called out quickly riffling through laundry and into his own personal shaving kit. He pulled out an unopened bottle and stared at it for a moment hoping to God that Sam wasn't drinking the stuff.

The bathroom door squeaked open and steam billowed out as Sam poked his head around it to see what Dean was doing. His dark hair was wet and plastered against his face and Dean did a double take at just how red that face was. "Oh good, you got one," Sam was already reaching for the bottle but Dean didn't move right away, his eyes were transfixed by the deep flush of his brother's skin and the darkening line of bruises on his collar bone. Bites?

Sam followed his line of vision, then self-consciously backed up just enough to hide his upper body, his long fingers curled tightly around the edge of the wood, ready to slam the door shut in a hasty retreat. Dean had already seen the scratches but the unwanted hickies were new.

"Dean?"

The uncertainty in the younger hunter's voice had Dean shaking his head and forcing a smile as he moved towards the bathroom, the bottle of mouthwash held out. "Yeah, got some." Sam almost snatched the bottle in his eagerness and Dean only got the barest hint of a thankful smile before Sam disappeared back into the steam and pretty much slammed the door.

Yeah, Dean thought with heavy sarcasm. You are just fine.

tbc