Supernatural – Broken

Disclaimer: Nothing new, just the usual I love to hurt, torture, kiss and caress the guys before I send em back.

An Adaptation: from Sade Lyrate's Broken, Chapter 53 of Shards, Shreds, Scraps.

He tried to ignore the burn in his back, and-

don'tthinkaboutthat

His legs wouldn't cooperate, his whole body ached, his cell could have been on the Moon instead of mere feet away.

The afterimage of a supernova flared within his skull as he crawled, the gravel biting into the palm of his left hand. A move, another, the pain aggravated by each pull. Short bursts of breath, his head swimming, the siren song of sleep ever stronger.

The familiar form under his fingers sent a quick praise tumbling through his sluggish mind, past bruised lips.

He flopped against the wall on his side, teeth clenching at the spikes the tiles' roughness drove into his nerves, hand clutching the little device like the straw it was. A deep breath, sea urchins within his lungs, and he flipped open the cell, slick fingers slipping over the speed dial.

"This is Dean Winchester. If this is an emergency-"

No.

He sucked in a breath that felt too much like a sob, waited for the recorded message to play out. Prayed Dean'd pick up the damn phone!
Unmistakable beep, mocking him just like his body, lips unfamiliar as he sought to form words, eyes closing as he concentrated on what he knew, what he needed, what he had to do.

Somewhere along the line, he forgot to open them again.

Time as fluid as water, stops for no man...

Dean pulled against the ropes, relishing in the pain flaring around his wrists, fuelling his rage against their demonic captors. 'Let Sam alone.' He said in a low even voice, each word enunciated perfectly.

'Why what are you going to do?' the creature wearing John Winchester's face smirked at Dean, enjoying the despair he was showing, the addiction was intoxicating to say the least.

'Sammy?' Dean cried out ignoring the teasing for a moment, his gaze fixed on Sam's pale face, 'dammit he's not breathing!'

'Oh he is still alive, but you see I hold his fragile grip on life in my hands. One snap of my fingers and his soul will be lost in the ethers and his corpse rotting at your feet.'

'What the fuck are you talking about?' Dean demanded still refusing to take his gaze away from Sam, terrified if he breaks the contact then Sam will be lost to him forever.

'Language son, really you should show more respect for your elders.'

'Oh that's nothing, I can really let fly if you want me too.'

'Take them to the prepared room, leave the medical supplies for them and the food.' The demon ordered one of his lackeys, ignoring the curious look on Dean's face when he did steal a glance at their latest abductor.

'Gee don't go doing anything special for us,' Dean quipped, 'I mean we can always go and get take out.'

'Take them, make sure that they are both breathing at sunrise.'

'Yes my Lord.' The slave said, it's sibilant voice grating on Dean's already frayed nerves. Cyril and his cohorts picked Dean and Sam up silently carrying them out of the room and into the prepared chambers. The demon watched them carry the two brothers away a smile forming on the craggy features of the assumed identity. 'Soon, soon they will find out exactly what it is like to cross me and mine.' It gloated, 'come here.' It waved a hand at a young female cowering in the corner; slowly she sashayed towards it unable to resist its call. 'Come to me you delicious little morsel.'

With hesitant steps, she moved closer to it, baring her neck to it as she stopped in front of him, eyes dull and devoid of life, she offered her body with the last shreds of her dignity and self-respect gone.

Twisting its fingers in her hair, it pulled her head back and exposed a clean line of her neck, rearing its head back, long fangs protruded from the upper jaw, glistening with fresh saliva plunging into the soft skin.

Dean shuddered as the pitiful screams stopped suddenly; slowly he stood up and stretched his bruised back he had to focus on Sammy. Gingerly he moved over to the bed and sat on the edge, next to Sam's hip. Steeling a glance at his still unconscious brother's face Dean lifted the remnants of Sam's shirt and inspected the bullet wound. The charred flesh around the hole already taking on a red hue of something more insidious, the thin tentacles spreading out over the pale flesh. 'Sorry Sammy,' he whispered as he rolled his brother over onto his side, not wanting to see the mess of his back. 'Fuck Sammy,' Dean breathed when he saw the new injuries mingling with the older. The hole no longer small and neat, crusted with cauterised flesh, now it is ripped apart, exposing muscles, organs, and bone. Long scratches decorated every surface visible. How Sam survived, it was beyond Dean's comprehension. 'Man you need a hospital.' He whispered fretting that Sam still hadn't stirred.

He quickly cleaned the wound as best as he could, mindful of not touching anything as he moved with the swabs. Then he hunted through the well-stocked medical emergency kit, with bandages, suturing equipment, and medications. He managed to suture both of the bullet wounds; the entry wound was simple enough to stitch, but when he returned to the back one, he rushed to the bathroom and threw up his meagre contents, his back hurt like hell with the violence of his retching.

'Dean?' Sam's soft whisper permeated his fear filled thoughts, silencing the ringing filling his ears. Stumbling out he made his way back to Sam's bedside, swaying unsteadily as he moved.

'Hey Sammy how ya feeling?' he asked, worried that now Sam was going to be awake for his stitching his back.

'Like I was on the wrong end of a train wreck,' Sam managed a small smile. 'I – I tried to ...'

'Sam I don't know how it happened, but I missed your call.' Dean cut in, his guilt weighing on him.

'Hey Dean, it's okay I have a feeling that it was all planned.' Sam gripped Dean's hand as a wave of pain washed through him, taking him by surprise.

'Sammy?'

'Sam, Dean it's Sam.'

'Yeah okay Sammmmy,' Dean grinned but then the grin vanished and he turned grim eyes to his brother's back, 'dude it's a mess.'

'Figured that.'

'I have to stitch it but ... he's done more damage...'

'It's okay Dean just do it.'

'There's some killer painkillers... pardon the pun...' Dean smiled slightly trying to take the edge of the situation.

'Nothing too strong Dean, I can't bomb out and leave you unprotected.' Sam insisted, 'promise me Dean.'

'Promise Sam, now what colour do you want, blue, pink, or white?'

'Blue,' Sam grinned trusting his brother to keep his promise, settling back down on the pillows he watched Dean move around to prepare to fix his back. His thoughts started to float, taking him back to their childhood and Dean's way out ideas to keep Sam occupied when their Dad locked them in while he went hunting. The puppet shows were the best, socks became their Dad and the monsters, blood thirsty and violent and wonderful stories that kept Sam going when he couldn't sleep without nightmares. Giggling to sleep instead was much more fun.

'Hey Sammy you still with me?' Dean asked tenderly touching his brother's shoulder.

'Huh? Yeah ... mm okay.' Sam slurred his words slightly, the blood loss evident in the way he looked and acted.

'Come on Sammy don't give up on me now.' Dean whispered as he hurried the task of sealing his brother's back.

'Hey Dean what about some more sock puppets?' Sam giggled as the painkillers took control over him.

'Sock puppets?' Dean blinked trying to work out what Sam was talking about when the memory came back. 'When I'm finished dude we might be able to get old John and the werewolf out of retirement.'

'Cool.' Sam's eyes started to droop sleepily, 'Dean?'

'Yeah Sammy?'

'I love you dude.'

'Love you too Sammy, now lie still and let me fix your back okay.'

'Owkay.' Sam agreed as sleep finally claimed its next victim taking Sam to a dreamless state almost immediately.

TBC