Chapter3: Alone.
Dean drew in a deep breath and stared into his brother's eyes. Sometimes, just occasionally, he forgot how strong his little brother could be. His desire to protect him was so powerful, always had been. He knew that it would have been there anyway, was a natural part of having a younger sibling, but his feelings, his protectiveness, had been tempered by circumstances so extreme, that sometimes he just wanted to go back to that point where he could hold his brother safely in his arms and carry him away from the danger, but he couldn't do that any more. Sam was taller than him and carrying him would be a real bitch, and now he was old enough that there was more than just physical harm that could affect him.
This was going to emotionally scar him, he couldn't protect him from that, couldn't wrap him up and carry him away, couldn't force him, let alone persuade him, to leave. He stared at Sam and saw his own fierce loyalties, his own protective desires, reflected back at him. Sam was his own man. He would not leave, and he couldn't help the part of himself that rejoiced at that fact. Selfish though it was, he didn't want to go through this alone.
Didn't want to. . .No! The rejection of his own comfort slammed through his mind, knocking the desire out of its path. . Just no! Sam had to leave, he had to. He couldn't make him share this, couldn't. . . .There had to be a way
He swallowed back the tears as his own churning emotions slowly tore him apart. "Sam, please!" If his little brother was going to be angry with him then he would just have to be angry this was too important. "Please I. . ."
He felt the grip before he caught sight of the shimmering blackness this time, his left arm was wrenched out away from his body, and he leant back to prevent himself from being pulled over. He caught a glimpse of the gnarled white claw as it dug into the flesh of his lower arm, and then his eyes clenched shut, his head snapped back ,and he attempted to stifle the scream as the gouge continued to run down from his elbow to the back of his hand.
Sam watched the second assault on his brother with equal horror to the first. He grabbed Dean's shoulder to support him as he turned and tried to spot the assailant, tried to think of some way that he could stop him, it, but there was not enough substance there to stop, he knew that. They had caught up with it with the tenth victim, had chased it as it dragged him away screaming. They had tried all of their weapons, but everything they tried just sliced through the air and did nothing, not a damn thing. He could almost see why now. Whatever it was it was never fully there, parts shimmered into the light suggesting a form in droplets of black shimmering silk, randomly appearing and fading, blinking on and off, part of a shoulder a sliver of torso, a wisp of thigh.
Then it was gone. Sam felt Dean move back as the hold on his arm was released, not quite realising just how much Dean had been pulling to prevent being dragged away, until the force of the release almost toppled them both back over. He steadied his brother as Dean drew his arm to his chest and curled protectively round it, breathing deeply against the pain.
Dean's breathing was still heavy and erratic as he looked up, tilting his head at a strange angle so that his pain filled eyes looked slightly manic, sweat soaked hair added to the effect. "Sam," the name came out almost as a whisper. He swallowed, took another breath, tried again. "Sam I know you don't want to leave me but. ." He clutched his arm a little tighter into himself as the pain spasmed. "If you stay and watch this, it will destroy you as well as me."
"And leaving you here to face it alone won't?" he asked, his own tone now much calmer, defeated.
Dean shook his head. "You will survive this, you will get over this and carry on without me." He stated confidently, "but not if you stay."
"No," it was Sam's turn to shake his head. "I need you, you can't leave me. You can't."
"We both know there's no choice now," Dean coughed lightly and felt the slight squeeze from Sam's still supportive hand on his shoulder.
Sam looked away. "You should have let it kill me. You shouldn't have used the scroll." His voice almost caught. "You had a choice."
Dean looked down at the floor. "No," he stated softly. "I didn't." He looked back up there was no disguising the tears that formed in his eyes now, no claiming that they were from the physical pain. He tried to hold them back but one rolled stubbornly down his cheek. He stared at his brother waiting for him to turn back and meet his gaze. "You know that I didn't."
And Sam did know, and that's what made it all the harder to accept his brother's sacrifice, because Dean had always played the role of protector, had had very few choices in life. He always did what he had to do no matter what it cost him.
"So don't let it be for nothing, Sam. You have to carry on now. It's up to. . ."
Dean didn't get the next word out. He was ripped out of Sam's grip and thrown sideways across the room, his left arm yanked out at an awkward angle. Sam heard the dull pop as Dean's shoulder dislocated. The agonised cry was cut short as he collided heavily with the wall and slid down it.
"Dean!" Sam shouted his name in reaction, no conscious thought went into his movement. He was across the room and kneeling beside his brother even before he'd properly acknowledged the need to move.
This was a new tactic. The Demon hadn't done this to him. It had simply cut him, at irregular intervals, keeping him guessing when the next would come, but it hadn't thrown him around. Unless you counted when it had dragged him here. Dragged him here. . .suddenly thoughts started to connect, memories slid into place, memories that the pain and the fear had suppressed., memories that he'd been too busy with confronting Dean about his actions to acknowledge, important memories.
The Demon had grabbed him before he'd reached the fireplace. There were two fireplaces where the crystal could be, two that had fitted the clues. Dean had gone to one, he'd gone to the other, but he'd never reached it, never searched it. The crystal could be there and if it was he could destroy it and with it the demon and then Dean wouldn't. . . .
If it hadn't been for the pain, the shock, the physical and mental toll that nearly an hour of torture had had on his system, if he hadn't been dealing with a swirling mix of emotions, anxiety protectiveness, fear, love, guilt, maybe if another jolt of adrenaline hadn't crashed through his system like a tidal wave, then maybe he would have taken time to draw in a breath, to acknowledge what he had to do. Maybe he would have been able to take the time to tell his brother why he was leaving. Where he was going and why, but by the time his thoughts were once again coherent enough to acknowledge his actions, he was already pounding down the corridor. His breaths coming in heavy pants against the chill night air. He'd gone another ten paces before it really hit him, what he'd done, and he slowed to a stop and turned back to the dim light flickering out of the doorway. Dean didn't know why he'd left. He'd left him alone to face the demon. If the crystal wasn't there he doubted he would make it back in time to tell his brother why he'd gone. Dammit, he hadn't even told him that he loved him. He gazed back longingly. He'd come too far to turn back. He didn't have the time, Dean didn't have the time. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Reluctantly he turned once more and set off at the fastest pace his injuries would allow, pounding his path along the rough stone and praying that he wouldn't be too late.
Dean shifted and opened his eyes, the shock of impact had stunned him, the pain from his shoulder was throbbing waves of agony down his side, and he blinked, and choked back the bile. Still, at least this was something that his little brother could help him with. He knew the principles of a field reduction and he was pretty sure Sam would be able to. . .
Sam?
The comforting presence was gone. His little brother should have been hovering next to him but there was only empty air. He snapped his head round panicked. Had he been wrong about the spell, about the demon, had it gone after Sam again? Hurt him?
He scanned the room, nothing. He pushed himself to his feet, fighting back the nausea as he cradled his injured arm, his injured shoulder, protectively against his chest. At least the bastard had gone for the same arm. Thankful for small mercies he pushed himself away from the wall. There was one place in the room he couldn't see, and he staggered across to the stone table so that he could get a look behind it. Nothing, a momentary relief swept over him and he sank down onto the table bowing his head before scanning the room for a final time.
Sam had gone. Sam had left him.
The warring emotions met somewhere deep in his gut and their battle twisted and ached and gnawed. He had wanted Sam to leave. He had needed him to go so much. He had needed him to stay so much. He fought back the tears, he would not let this bastard see him cry. He pulled his arm closer around him, regretting deeply that he had not taken the time to say goodbye, so instead he whispered it into the air around him as he waited for the Demon alone.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .