"He is a busy man." The Chief walked on, not even stopping for Sam.
Sam kept pace with Alush. "I know. But you don't understand. . ." he was stopped by a large man, one of Alush's warrior guards, holding a spear, pushing it at him.
Alush turned. "You do not understand. You must show respect. You show none."
Okay, sure. He got that, and he cringed inwardly. "I'm sorry, really. Look, I . . ."
A young boy ran towards them, yelling loudly, pointing. Alush frowned, then looked at Sam.
"What?" Sam asked. The Chief looked at him solemnly, and his breath caught.
"It is your brother," Alush said quietly. "Come."
**************************
Six men followed Alush, Sam and the boy through the woods and down to the river. He didn't need to ask. He saw the immobile body of his brother, on his back, half out of the water on the opposite bank. A large arrow protruded from his shoulder. Blood covered his side.
"Dean!" Sam shouted and pushed the men out of the way, planting his heels on the steep slope as he started down.
"No," Alush said, and arms grabbed him, pulled him back. "Not our land."
"What?"
"Cherokee."
Sam fought the grips. "We have to get him!"
"We can not cross onto their land." Alush looked at the still body in concern.
"Listen to me." Sam yanked away from the hands holding him and grabbed the chief's arm, feeling himself once again being pulled, this time in anger. "Dean isn't Cherokee. He's not Mvskoke. Neither am I!"
"They do not care. They shot him. Left him for dead. Didn't care to take his body."
"They get warriors," said a youth, who was learning English.
Sam glanced at the child, then glared at Alush. "Would they? If there was only one person here, one person that shot him, would he go back to get more? And they'd come back for Dean. . ." his eyes drifted back to his brother's still form.
Alush straightened. "We can not help you."
"So you're gonna leave him there? What if they kill him?"
"They will. If he is not already dead."
Sam's face darkened, and once more he yanked free of the hands holding him. "We were sent here to help you," he hissed. "Don't you get that?" The face before him was stoic. "Great. Screw you." He shoved Alush away, shoved everyone away as voices raised, and plummeted down the bank and into the water.
The river tried to eat him. It sucked him under, forcing his head down again and again, bound his arms, froze his heart in his chest. He had no time to think of anything but fresh air. His head finally broke the surface and he gasped, then realized he was already down river, that fighting the current wasn't working, that he was losing the battle, and rapidly losing his brother. All this as useless as his leaden limbs. And as he went under for the fourth time, convinced this time that he wouldn't rise, he felt a hand on his wrist, then around his torso, forcing him up. Hard ground was beneath him, harder hands were pounding his back and pressing against his ribs. Water rose from places where it should never have been. Sam rolled and coughed up his lungs. He coughed up his fucking toenails. The hands turned him over and whacked his back again, and he was half grateful, half pissed, and completely scared because he had no idea who was holding him. So he forced his coughing fit to end, and opened his eyes, his hands flying out in defense. The face that looked down at him, stunned him. "Akecheta?"
The warrior smiled and gave his cheek a pat. "Good."
Sam coughed again. "Good?" he croaked.
Akecheta pointed to him. "Good," he repeated sternly, and Sam wasn't about to debate him.
"I'm getting there." Sam sat up with his help, then shoved to his feet. "How far down are we? Are we on the other bank?" He leaned over dizzily and braced himself on his knees as he fought for each breath.
Aketcheta jabbed his finger up the bank, walking sideways, eager to move on but waiting on Sam. He spoke rapidly.
Sam nodded and forced his burning body to move.
They both slid in the loose mulch, and stopped several times to listen. A flock of birds took off from the trees making Sam nearly shit in his pants, but other than that there were no disturbances. Fifteen minutes later, they found a curve in the bank. Dean was just ahead, now face down on the small shore like he'd tried to move and passed out, his wounded shoulder half propped by the broken arrow.
Sam wasted no time. He fell to his knees beside his brother. The body was gently rolled, with Sam cradling Dean's head. Already, the skin felt heated. The wound was ugly, and Akecheta tsked and clicked his tongue like an old woman. He looked around, placed a quick and silent hand on Sam's shoulder, then rushed into the woods.
Sam pulled Dean into his lap as best he could. He cupped his hand over Dean's forehead, then pressed it against his cheek. "Hey. You hear me? I'm here, you're gonna be okay. We're gonna fix this. We always fix these thing, right?" He held Dean to him, minding the wound. His fingers snaked down Dean's arm, searching for his pulse. "That's it. Keep going, keep breathing. You're doing great. Between your shoulder and my knee, we'll make quite a team battling this creature, huh? It'd help if you opened your eyes. Gotta see the thing coming. Dean? Open your eyes. Come on. Don't make me press on this wound. I'll do it just to hear you scream, you know that. So you may as well just open your eyes."
Akecheta returned with several leaves, each one larger than his hand. He dipped them into the water, then signaled for Sam to lay Dean flat on his back. Akecheta sat beside Dean's injury. He made a motion that showed he would pull the arrow out, and waved Sam closer. It took a moment for Sam to realize Akecheta wanted him to straddle his brother to hold him down. He did so, hovering over him as Akecheta pressed Sam's right hand to Dean's chest, and his left on Dean's arm just below the injured shoulder. Grabbed Sam by the shoulders and gave him a quick shake. Sam understood, and braced Dean, mashing his brother's chest and arm to the ground.
Akecheta gripped Dean's shoulder, curled his fingers around the arrow's shaft, and jerked.
Dean came to with a yell and fevered eyes as the arrow tore free. He tried to arch against the pain, against Sam, but Sam held him The leaves were immediately pressed to the wound, and Sam clamped his hands down over it. Akecheta pressed his hands down hard over Sam's. Dean panted, his eyes wide and roving. One hand grabbed Sam's arm, trying to pry him away. "Now, wait, easy," Sam soothed.
"Son of a. . ."
"I know, I know, just hang on."
". . .bitch shot me. . ."
"That's not a sexist remark, is it Dean?" The wound was still bleeding more than he liked. Sam pressed down harder.
"I dunno who. . .CHRIST!" Dean's head raised to look at Sam's ministrations in disbelief.
"Sorry. Akecheta's idea."
"God!" Dean closed his eyes and worked to steady his breathing. "You're breaking my shoulder."
"Don't tempt me, you wuss." Dean was pale. He started to shiver, and Sam shuffled closer to him, pressing his legs along Dean's side. He didn't have much body warmth to offer, but a little was better than nothing.
His eyes blinked rapidly. "Where's. . .the bastard. . ."
"Akecheta? I don't know, he ran back in the woods."
"H'd you find me?"
"Dean! Open your eyes. Some kid came running for us. We're on the other bank across the river."
He did, for a moment. His breathing deepened as he fought the pain. "Got – a boat?"
"I don't know how we're getting across. And I think we're in enemy territory."
That opened Dean's eyes. "'Course we are." He blinked several times. "H's your knee?"
"What?" Sam laughed.
"You're wet. Should'nt've got in the water. No telling wh's in the shit."
"Are you serious?" Sam laughed, incredulous, but it was great to hear. Dean's eyes were focusing, and Sam could see his instincts kicking in.
Akecheta slammed into Sam's shoulder. "Go! We go, now!" He yanked Sam to his feet.
Sam cursed and just managed not to step on his brother. He was released just as quickly, and the two men hoisted Dean to his feet, where he wavered. Sam grabbed his brother, bracing him against his vertigo. "What? What is it?" Sam asked anxiously, but the question was quickly answered by a distant rustle in the bush. "Crap. We gotta go."
"Wh's wrong?" Dean gasped against his pain.
"I think they've decided to take interest in us after all." Sam said quickly as Akecheta shoved the along the bank.
"Enemies?" Dean asked blindly.
"Yeah."
"Whr's war whoop?" He stumbled.
"Don't think there is one, Dean."
"No war whoop?" The brothers froze as a loud sound peeled through the trees. "Doesn't sound good. . ."
". . .Dean, I think that was it. . ."
"Go."
"You happy now?"
"Go, go, go!"
Akecheta led the way. Sam helped Dean along, arms wrapped around him as Dean protected his shoulder. They could hear the band gaining on them. Akecheta called back to them, not stopping but checking on the men as they ran as fast as their injuries would allow.
Akecheta skidded to a halt as men jumped from the trees, pulling him to the ground. The cry he gave was unlike anything Sam had ever heard before. It was pure fear mixed with pure rage, a warrior's cry of defiance. And they were on him.
Sam felt himself being pulled from Dean. He struggled and gave a warrior's cry of his own. Fighting. Seeing Dean go down, his face tight with pain.
And he followed him.
************************************
Everything smelled different. It was the first thing he noticed, like a dream. Like his mind was aware that he wasn't where he should be, and was trying to tell him.
"Sam. Sam, wake up!"
Or maybe it was that.
Sam's head fell back and thumped against something hard. He winced and let it fall forward again before giving it a shake. Groaned. Okay, not a good idea, the whole moving thing. He heard his name again, and let his vision focus on the form in front of him. "Dean?"
"You with me?"Concern in the voice.
Sam inhaled deeply, blinking, forcing the world into focus. "Mmm." He exhaled slowly, taking stock of his body. Trying to tell where all the pain was coming from. "Yeah, I think so. You okay?" He tried to concentrate on Dean.
"Just peachy. Blink for me."
"What?"
"Blink your eye. Tilt your head to your right."
Nothing made sense. ". . .the hell are you talking about?"
"You want blood in your eye? You know that shit stings like a bitch, and I don't wanna hear about it!"
Sam slowly tilted his head, and blinked rapidly, feeling a small tickle just pass the corner of his eye. He managed to rub the side of his head against his shoulder, and felt a sticky smear. "Oh. Thanks."
"Blood stings like a bitch."
"So you said."
"Worth repeating."
Yellow daylight filtered into the tent, barely. It was a large tent, with two poles holding the tied, thin fabric up from the ground. Sam was bound to one of the poles, his hands tight behind him. Dean was tied to the opposite, facing him. Had to be bad for his shoulder. Blood streaked his chest, and it wasn't all dried. "Cherokee, I take it?" Sam asked.
"That's who they are?" Dean grunted.
"That's what Alush said."
"Guess that's who it is, then." He shifted slightly and winced.
Sam glanced around the tent. "He's not here."
"Who?"
"Akecheta."
"Haven't seen him." Dean shifted again, and Sam realized he was working at his bonds.
"Hey, stop it! You'll tear your shoulder."
"You mean worse that it is?" He cursed.
Sam was working his own wrists. Their ankles were bound as well, and several coils of rope kept their torsos flush to the pole. Even if he freed his wrists, he wasn't certain he'd be able to move his arms. "I said, stop!"
Dean glared, but there was no malice behind it. "See this? This is what I look like when I'm ignoring you."
Sam felt a give. "I think I'm getting free, so just humor me." His head whipped around as a large shadow blocked the outside light.
A man entered, a seven-foot-wide, eight-foot-tall monster. Sam was certain he'd never seen a man so large. A smaller man joined him, and they stood with crossed arms, staring at Sam and Dean.
Sam cut his eyes over to Dean and saw a smirk forming. As glad as he was that Dean was whole, the combination of his being bound and that smirk spelled doom. On the other hand, he was pissed as hell, and waited for the tongue-lashing. "I take it you're not the welcoming committee," Dean said. "In fact, it looks like you've come to guard us. Or maybe protect whoever's about to come through that flap? I gotta tell ya, you're big and bad-ass and afraid of bugs if you really think we can do anything to you, so I think you better take your posturing asses outta here, cause you both stink." And his head snapped to the side as he was punched in the jaw by a fist the size of a freight train.
"White man talk too much," a gruff voice said, and he resumed his former stance, arms crossed.
Sam watched his brother in alarm as Dean slowly worked his jaw. "That was a predictable response," Dean said to Sam with difficulty. "Could've said something. You know, like,'Oh, by the way, they speak fucking ENGLISH."
"Yeah. I think more Cherokee spoke English than Creeks did," Sam muttered.
"Right. Way to warn me, there, Sammy."
"Sorry." Sam cleared his throat and addressed the man that had spoken. "Where's the man that was with us?"
He said nothing. Neither did his companion.
"Great," Dean said. "Well, since you're not up for conversation, I'm just gonna keep working at these ropes, here. You know, if that's okay with you." He gave a smile and wink, then rolled his eyes and frowned, twisting his wrists as much as he could. Exaggerating. The men watched in amusement.
"Dean," Sam muttered, thinking about the cracking impact of fist on jawbone, "what the hell are you doing?"
"Shhh! They can hear you, remember?"
Sam just shook his head in amazement. He was the one with the head injury? Must be the fever praying on Dean's brain.
A third man entered, thus crowding the already hot tent. He wasn't as tall, but his intensity reached out and grabbed Sam's nerves, to the point that he felt every bone and joint tighten when he approached. The man hesitated by Dean and glanced down his nose at him, then turned glittering eyes to Sam. He held up a hand, and the men left him, though Sam noticed their hulking shadows remained just outside the tent's flap.
This new arrival walked around them slowly, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, his head bowed in scrutiny. Dean followed his motion, then grew bored. Sam was too tense, and he couldn't explain why. It wasn't until the chief pointed a long finger at him that he spoke again. "You are Mvskoke. Who?"
Sam swallowed. "Who? I don't understand."
"You are with Mvskoke." He pointed to their half-clothing. "What clan?"
Sam's mouth opened, but he hesitated before answering. "I don't know. I mean, they never said. We're not – we're not really from here."
"White man." He pointed to Dean. "White man." Pointed to Sam. "You trade, then." He bent down and raised the hem of Sam's pants. "You steal."
"No! These were given to us. We were sent by someone and. . ."
Dean cleared his throat harshly.
The man narrowed his eyes. "You were sent. You were sent to us?"
Okay, not good not good not good. "We were sent by a friend to help the Mvskoke village. One of your men shot my brother." Sam tried to keep his cool, but it wasn't easy. "He washed up on your bank. Me and my friend, we were trying to save him. So of course we ended up on your land."
"White men are not trusted here."
"The Mvskoke trusted us," Sam insisted heatedly.
"We do not trust them."
"And despite all this, we're still alive. Why?" Sam stared at the man. He gave his bonds a sharp tug, but didn't allow his anger to waver from the stare that held him pinned as much as the ropes held his wrists.
The man didn't answer him. Sam jerked again at his bonds, breathing sharply, as the man knelt before Dean and examined his shoulder, not touching it, but ripping the injury apart with his eyes. A finger tapped his skin lightly, and Dean cringed as he traced the wound up the side of his neck, following a particularly deep scratch that led to his jawline. Dean craned his head away tensely, eyeing the man from the corner of his eye. He grabbed Dean's chin roughly, and said right into his face, "We do not trust you."
Dean glared at him. "Yeah. I've heard that one before."
The chief stood quickly, releasing Dean's chin with a painful snap of the flesh. "We will talk later." And that was it. He walked out without looking back. One large head peeked in, grunted, and the shadow shifted to completely cover the entrance of the tent.
Sam let his head drop to his chest and he exhaled, trying to settle his nerves. He remained that way for several moments before raising his head. "You okay?" he finally managed to ask Dean.
Dean just looked at him.
The day passed slowly. They were allowed one small cup of water, which was raised to their lips and poured into their mouths with little care. They remained bound. Sam was losing sensation in his limbs, and he could only imagine how Dean felt with his shoulder injury. His ropes had loosened, but not much. Dean remained still as the setting sun colored the tent with an orange glow. He no longer tried to get free. His face was drawn, and the more quiet he became, the more Sam's concern grew.
The big guy came in. He looked them over with an expression of distaste, like he was unhappy. He walked back out without a word.
Dean's throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. "Okay. Is it just me, or did he come in here just so he could suck all the air out of the room?"
"You're pale." The observation sounded more calm than Sam felt about it. He watched Dean look around uneasily and shift against the pole.
"That's 'cause he sucked the air out of the room!"
Sam frowned. "You having trouble breathing? Did you hit your ribs when you fell in the water?"
"How the hell should I know? Why?"
"Because you're gasping like a – Dean! Dean, what's wrong?"
Dean's chest was heaving. "I – I don't know. I can't breathe. It's like. . .shit, Sam. . ." Dean's head shot up, then back, his mouth gaping.
"Dean? Hey!" Sam yanked forward as Dean fought for breath. Damn river, damn fever, damn injury, damned Indians. . . "Hey!" he yelled. "I need help! Get in here!" The shadow outside moved, and a large head poked back in. "Listen to me," Sam continued frantically, "He can't breathe, I think he's hurt, get him! You understand?" Sam jerked and pulled forward frantically, feeling the ropes cut into him, getting nowhere. "Dammit, help him!"
The other man walked in to see what the commotion was about. They spoke quickly, and both leaned over Dean. They held his head still and studied his face as he breathed at them harshly, his eyes rolling. One listened to his heart. Both stood, and regarded Sam.
Sam just looked at them, unable to believe they were going to let Dean suffer. But then, why not, if they were the enemy? "Look, you can't do this to him. We didn't do anything wrong! Please!"
Dean wheezed painfully, attracting the attention of the two men. They conferred, then bent to loosen the ropes around his wrists, and chest. Dean leaned, gasping, and he reached up as the men leaned in to help him to his feet –
– and banged their heads together with a loud, sickening crack that made him cry out in pain. He fell to his side, grabbing his shoulder, panting. The smaller man moaned, and was still. The larger man raised a hand to his head in disbelief, and came at Dean, only to be kicked back down with a two-footed blow to the kneecaps, and stomped again in the head. He was still, and Dean was cursing like a sailor, holding his wound.
Sam watched the turn of events in shock. The two large men were out for the count. "Dean? What the hell?"
Dean glanced at the still bodies. "Worked better than I thought."
"You – you asshole! You scared the shit outta me! Fuck!"
"Language, dude." Dean coughed and pushed himself upright. He pulled his knees in and worked on the rope binding his ankles, then crawled one-handed to Sam. He sat behind him and started working on the ropes. "Had to make it convincing."
"I can't believe I fell for that!"
"I can't believe they fell for that. As for you, you're just a mother hen."
"Yeah, well. . .you're still pale."
"Nice comeback. So much for your college education." He grunted as he tugged on the rope.
"I'm serious. You don't look good."
"I'm freezing and my shoulder hurts like hell, okay? The hell'd you pull at these ropes for?"
"I was trying to get to you!"
"Well, next time, don't."
Sam bristled. "Oh, okay, yeah! Sure! Next time you're in trouble I'll just sit and watch!"
"Dude. I wasn't in trouble."
Sam opened his mouth for a retort that he hoped would shut Dean down, but a loud groan cut into his remark. And it wasn't from Dean. "You didn't hit them hard enough."
He could feel his brother's tension escalate. "Hello? Injured, here? And it was like smacking around two bulldozers, but then nothing's ever good enough for ya."
Movement. "God, Dean hurry up," Sam whispered, his heart freezing mid-beat.
"I'm working on it!" Dean gritted, his own eyes flicking between the ropes and the reviving men.
Sam pressed back against the pole, pulling his knees close to him as the larger man moved, turning his head to the side, trying to make himself invisible. Like that would keep the large men down. He felt Dean's fingers working at the knot, pinching at his skin, and flexed his wrists, trying to give him more room.
One large head turned, one large eye opened, and one large roar sounded angrily before the bulldozer launched himself at Dean.
Dean hit the ground hard behind him with a barely restrained cry. Sam heard the air leave his lungs in a pained rush. He quickly turned to look over his shoulder and saw Dean's hand fly up to protect his face. Sam tugged at the half loosed ropes as the huge man straddled his brother, massive fist clenched and ready to punch his lights out.
Suddenly, Sam was free, and he yanked the ropes from his chest and did his best two-footed dive, knocking the man off Dean. They landed together on their sides. Sam rolled, and felt the huge paw instantly wrap into his shirt and hoist his upper body off the ground. The huge fist raised again, and suddenly Dean was on the man's back, one arm around his neck, pulling backwards with all his weight.
Sam braced his hands and shoved at the man's chest, heaving upwards as he did. The three went down, Dean still strangling the man from underneath him. Sam snapped the ropes from his ankles and grabbed a stone from the unused fire. He hit the man on the side of the head, then shoved at the man again, freeing Dean and pulling him to his feet as the first man groaned loudly. They hurried out of the tent, shoving past a body barreling inside, and ran out into the pending darkness.
Sam was dizzy. He held onto Dean as they ran, but quickly found Dean was holding him up just as much as he was supporting his brother. "What about Akecheta?" he asked.
"Dunno," was all Dean could gasp as they ran. "Get clear first."
The trees swallowed them whole. The temperature dropped a good ten degrees as mist enveloped them, hindering their way. They ran as fast as they could, the sounds of men close on their heels.
******************
Dean skidded down a slope, pulling Sam with him, and ducked behind a large tree. They nestled between the large roots, half hidden by low-growing shrubs, and lay as flat as they could. Sam was limping, his knee joint stiff and sore, and looked confused. His head was still bleeding. Dean was afraid to push him much further. His own wound hurt like a mother, but it wasn't hampering him. He was sweating, though, and knew from experience that he needed to get the damn thing patched up. But first things first.
He heard the trackers running overhead and pressed his hand against Sam's chest, keeping him still. Sam was frozen, his eyes wide, then closing as he steadied his breathing. Dean rose ever so slightly, eyeing the path above them as the noises fell into the distance. "Come on," he whispered, and continued down the slope, towards the river.
The sound of their arrival was swallow by the rapids. This part of the water looked more dangerous to cross. Dean stuck a foot in, and pulled it back out. "Damn! It's colder at night."
"Dean, we can't leave Akecheta. He saved your life."
"I know." Dean nodded, the motion making his vision swim. "Dammit, I know." He sighed and sat on the bank, cradling his shoulder as best he could.
He felt Sam beside him. Felt a hand on his forehead. "Dean. . ."
"I know that too, Sammy." He blocked out all sight. Below him, the river raged. Thunder sounded in the distance, and Dean suddenly knew why the river was flowing so fast. "It'll be raining up at the village."
"Good for covering our tracks, at least," Sam offered. But it was half-hearted.
The truth was, neither man wanted to leave Akecheta. But neither knew how to rescue him. No weapons, no knowledge of the way the Cherokee warriors, and seriously out-manned. Their hesitation had more to do with indecision than the obstacle of getting back.
Dean slapped Sam on the leg. "Let's go. You can rally the troops and we'll crash their party."
"You really want to put yourself in the middle of their war? That's not why we're here."
Dean glared at Sam. He was right, of course. Akecheta's decision to follow him was his own, and opened a can of worms they weren't ready for. "Dammit!" he said again, because it was the only thing that came to mind.
Sam just took his arm and led him up river.
They ran until they could run no longer.
