Sticks and Stones
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural.
a/n: I'm not giving myself time to think about this before I post it but right here, right now it feels right. Hope it makes amends for the lameness that was chapter 4!!
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Chapter 6
The urge to breathe was an automatic function. The inability to do so was what brought Sam's awareness back as his chest arched in the air trying to refill his depleted lungs. Clutching at his damaged chest he finally managed to draw air as his body sagged in relief and he lay gasping.
He rolled to his side and then finally got to his knees, pain radiating from his chest and along his left arm as a result of the near point blank hit from the salt shot. He stood on shaking legs and stepped over Adam's still prone body, picking up both guns and his bag before turning towards the gym.
Sam's mind was in turmoil, still partially dazed and trying to process everything. The only clear thought was that he had to get to Dean now. He didn't know exactly what this thing was but it didn't matter, he just had to get Dean out and for once he didn't care if they finished this job or not. For once he just didn't want to give a damn.
He staggered back into the gym moving past the areas he had previously checked and the still open door where Mikey had been. There were two more rooms off the corridor, both doors were closed and Sam steadied himself against the wall as he paused hearing a noise from inside the closest one. He slowly turned the handle and not surprisingly found it locked.
Without wasting any more time, Sam kicked the door once, twice, then it crashed open and hit the wall hard. Sam walked forward slowly, eyes adjusting to the dim light, trying to ignore the sight before him while he checked for danger. Trying not to panic and rush forward.
It was a large equipment room with numerous shelves and storage boxes. The light was on but the single bulb in the high ceiling cast only a weak glow and the back of the room was hidden by the large sports billboards and various clutter strewn around. What drew his attention was the long rope attached to the ceiling which ended in a noose around Dean's neck. His brother was barely standing, his arms tied behind his back and he was struggling to breathe.
Sam could see he had been beaten badly.
"Dean? Oh God, Dean?"
As Sam walked toward him, gun drawn, Dean slowly shook his head. A thin line of blood ran down his chin and one eye was closed completely, swollen shut.
Sam knew the shadow boy must still be in the room somewhere and he reached into his jacket for a flare, lighting it quickly before he cut Dean's hands loose one handed with the knife. He knew the jolting movement was hurting his brother as the knife sawed against the rope but for both their sakes he couldn't afford to let his guard down either.
Slowly sliding his pack off his shoulder, Sam reached up to cut the noose but heard a noise from the back of the room and instinctively stepped in front of Dean. Awkwardly holding the shotgun in one hand and the flare and knife in the other he squinted into the shadows.
Movement out of the corner of his eye made him spin to his right, flare before him and he was surprised to see Adam standing in the doorway. Out of options and trying to cover two possible directions of attack, Sam dropped the flare at Dean's feet and held the knife behind him, relieved when Dean took it from his grasp.
"Dean, you with me? Can you cut the other rope?"
Sam watched Adam approach from the corner of his eye. Adam was unarmed as far as Sam could tell and so the biggest threat was the shadow presumably at the back of the room where Sam kept the gun trained. He just needed to get Dean free so he could get him out.
"Dean?"
"Think so."
Dean sounded bad and Sam was fearful what had been done to him in the time he had been here. In the time it had taken Sam to get here. "How bad?"
"I'll live."
Sam frowned as the familiar words were thrown back at him, not exactly put at ease by his brother's reply but also knowing Dean wouldn't want to show any weakness in front of the enemy. In front of anyone.
"Actually you probably won't. I don't think either of you will be allowed to leave you know. I'm sorry Sam I didn't have a problem with you but then you went and shot me."
"Call it off Adam, it's over. We're not gonna let this go on." Sam was aware of the groan and harsh breathing from his brother but couldn't turn. Couldn't look away from the threat.
"Even if I wanted to….do you know what it's like to be tortured every day? To have them destroy you from the inside with their words and be pushed and pushed until there's nothing you want except to make them pay? This is the only way."
"Sam I can't…" The knife clattered as it fell to the floor.
"What have you done to him?" Sam gritted his teeth and moved back towards his brother until he was standing by his side, slowly bending to pick up his knife. "Dean I'm gonna cut the rope, put your hand on my shoulder okay. You ready?"
"Yeah."
Sam held his finger over the trigger and braced the shotgun against his hip as he slowly raised his left hand and found the rope without looking.
"He has to be taught a lesson. You do too Sam."
"You bastard." Sam risked a glance as he began to saw through the rope but Adam hadn't moved any closer.
"I didn't lay a hand on him." Adam said almost defensively.
"Distracted me. S'thing hit me from behind." Dean slurred. "Mikey, d'you find him?"
"Yeah Dean, he's safe."
Finally slicing through the last strand of rope, Sam had to drop the knife in favour of catching his brother who seemed to be unable to stand any longer without the support of the noose. He saw another shape moving fast as he lowered Dean to the ground and suddenly Adam moved forward and knocked the flare away. Sam was then struck by something solid and cold and he rolled backwards, hitting the wall hard as he fired off a round.
He saw the shadow within the darkness move to his brother and Sam scrambled to the flare and rolled it towards Dean. The shadow form slunk away to the wall.
"Dean?" Dean was too close to risk using the shotgun but the flare was going out and the shadow was edging closer. He tucked the gun under his arm.
Sam lit another flare, the second last one, and he stood and ran at the dark shape dropping the flare near Dean as he passed and then letting his momentum hit the shadow full force. He landed hard on his side holding on tight and they slid backwards, crashing through a stack of wooden posts and coming to rest against the far wall. Trying to regain his balance, Sam scrambled to stand and then it lunged at him as he rose.
Sam saw the knife, his own knife, go into his upper arm slightly before he felt the sickening pain as he sank back to his knees. All he could think about was that Dean hadn't answered him and he didn't know how bad his brother was hurt.
The shadow boy seemed to hesitate a moment and then began to move back towards Dean. Sam saw Adam crouch down next to his brother and realised the shadow was dressed in clothing the same as Adam.
"Get away from him."
Sam reached for the gun on the ground alongside him, wincing as the movement pulled at the knife lodged in his arm and blasted the shadow with rock salt before it could get too close to his brother again. Adam seemed to recoil from the shot and sat on the floor dazed. The shadow seemed to take longer to reappear this time.
About to recite a banishing spell, Sam paused as everything fell into place. This was no demon, there was a link to Adam. A direct link. It was his living shadow, his own personal darkness. He couldn't banish the manifestation of a human emotion.
The only way to destroy it was for Adam to control it or…he had to kill Adam.
"Adam it's gone for a minute but you need to stop this. You can control it, you've got the power here. You have to stop it Adam, there's no other way." Sam could see the boy was on the edge but he had to try and get through to him.
"I wanted it to happen, this is justice. I wanted them hurt and I feel stronger now and when it's here I can't stop myself…I don't want to stop it. I just want it to make them all suffer. Make you suffer. Make you die."
"It's not justice Adam it's revenge and it's gonna get you killed. I know it's a part of you and you can take back that control. I know you're scared but please you've got to try."
Sam slowly moved over and crouched by his brother who was somehow trying to sit up. "Dean stay down, its not over." Sam knew there was more than what he could see otherwise his brother would have been in the thick of the fight. "Dean please, I need you to stay there okay."
"M'okay Sammy. Finish this…first."
Sam stood as the shadow flickered back and held its grasp on a corporeal state. Adam seemed to straighten and smile. The smile held no humour and Sam could see no mercy either. "No one will hurt me anymore."
Sam risked a glance and saw his brother's eyes weren't focused. Blood was seeping through his shirt in several places and Dean was beginning to shake as though cold as he slowly sank back against the floor. Probably shock.
Sam had seen enough.
It wasn't a fully conscious decision on Sam's part nor was it a knee jerk reaction. It was just basic survival melded with an ingrained sense to protect. Protect the innocent and when that was done, protect each other.
Sam fired at Adam, a body shot blasting the boy off of his feet. Then he fired again. And again.
The shadow boy seemed to loose clarity, was less defined after the third shot as Sam turned the shotgun and fired a salt shot into its dark form. He watched almost mesmerised as it slunk across the floor to where Adam lay and seemed to disappear.
As Sam watched, knowing he only had a few spare rounds left, he realised there was another option that might work. Might give them some time. He closed his eyes briefly and prayed he got it right as he recited the Latin words of a basic binding spell.
The effect was instant as Adam screamed and writhed on the floor. Keeping his eyes on the boy, Sam moved back to his brother.
"Hey, it's okay I'm gonna get you out in a minute Dean. Just hang on."
Adam stopped moving and Sam stood as the room became quiet. He could feel his left arm trembling and he wondered vaguely how he could have forgotten the knife still lodged there inches deep. It would have to stay there for the moment.
The movement was sudden and unnaturally fast as Adam got to his feet. "You think you have beaten me now? You've just made me stronger."
"Adam walk away. Just walk away man. It can stop right here, right now if you want, you're not a bad person. We all have a choice, and now you're whole again you can balance the anger, control this darkness."
"But what if that's not what I want? What if all I am is darkness now?"
Sam gritted his teeth and used his injured left arm to reach inside his jacket for his handgun, dropping the salt loaded weapon and transferring the new weapon to his right hand.
"Then you won't be leaving."
"You wouldn't kill an innocent boy would you Sam?" The tone was mocking but there was no mistaking the intent as Adam ran at him.
Everything happened fast but in Sam's head it all played out at half speed. He felt Adam's shoulder hit his chest and pain danced along the nerves in his left arm as he automatically moved to fend off the attack as he was propelled backwards. His other arm was pinned between them along with the gun.
He fired.
Sam was looking down at Adam's face when he saw the look of surprise and confusion ripple across the young features. They were frozen in time as Sam stood there unable to move even when he felt the boy's body slide away and fall to the floor.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there trying to make some sense of it all. It was the sound of his brother that snapped him back to the here and now as he heard the struggle for breath.
"Dean?" Sam knelt down and carefully placed a hand on one trembling shoulder. "Hey I'm gonna get you out of here now okay. Can you tell me where you're hurt?"
"Dean? Please c'mon answer me man."
Sam lifted his brother's chin slightly so the sparse light caught his features. He saw with growing concern there was more blood spilling from his brother's mouth and his lips were now blue tinged. Dean frowned in concentration as he attempted to focus on Sam's face.
"Sm? Up…gemme up. Can't breathe."
Sam moved quickly, methodically putting the guns in his bag along with the knife he had finally ripped out of his arm. He shouldered the bag and somehow got Dean to his feet, bracing his brother with an arm and all but carrying him out of the room.
He didn't look back.
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"God Sammy…s'thing's wrong." Dean arched back against the seat, his breathe getting more laboured by the minute. Eyes beginning to roll back in his head.
"Hospital's not far okay. You're gonna be okay I promise. You're gonna be okay Dean, it's not Tuesday. It's not.'
Sam drove with one hand on the wheel and one hand on his brother's shoulder, as though he could physically make sure his brother stayed with him. Trying not to panic at the sounds of Dean choking on blood, gasping for breath right next to him.
The Impala screeched to a halt at the emergency room entrance and Sam hit the horn twice before jumping from the car and wrenching the passenger door open.
"Dean? We're here its okay now. You're okay." Sam reached in and grabbed a fistful of his brother's shirt and shook him trying in vain to make him respond, becoming desperate when he got nothing in return.
Dean's head dropped to his chest, eyes closed, no movement. Blood still trickled down his chin and was lost in the crimson already staining his shirtfront. Sam shook his head, denying the reality.
"C'mon Dean answer me. You can't do this now okay, you can't. It's not Tuesday, this can't be real. DEAN!"
Sam initially fought the hands that moved him out of the way until there was a spark of recognition that Dean needed this, they were trying to help his brother. He gained enough clarity to tell them what they needed about his brother's injuries, practiced enough at the art of fabrication to create an assailant. It was all too much though when they tried to check him over as they wheeled Dean away and he held up his hands in defiance.
"Don't touch me. Just look after my brother."
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Sam sat, not aware of anything except the pale and still body in front of him. He gripped the wrist of his brother as though it was a lifeline and he was the one drifting. Trying to determine if this was real or just another fucked up nightmare. The lines were now more than blurred in his mind and it was getting too hard to tell between the two. It dawned on him at some point there wasn't much difference so it didn't really matter if he was really here or not.
The only thing that he could grasp, the one thing that he knew mattered, was lying in front of him. Broken and silent.
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He winced as the bitter liquid burnt his throat, sending a warm sensation through his body as it undid the knots in his muscles and deadened any unwanted sense of feeling.
Sam sat shirtless on the floor in the dark with the near empty bottle of Jack clutched tightly in his hand. He had clutched his brother's hand in the same desperate way four days ago and he knew this was only a substitute. Something to stave off the confusion and pain.
And guilt.
He watched the blood run down his arm in the barely there glow from the streetlights coming through the cheap curtains. The knife wound was still open and bloody – he hadn't allowed it to heal. He deserved to have this but more to the point he needed it.
His stomach had healed, the raking marks now reduced to hard scabs beneath his shirt. He could hardly look at them cause all he saw was the look on Dean's face that night when he had seen them. They weren't supposed to be there to hurt his brother, that's not what they were for at all. The rest of his body was bruised from the salt shot and his forearms and neck were littered with blue marks from the shadows cold touch but they had been left hidden and untended.
He drained the last of the bottle and let it slip from his fingers as he let his body slide along the wall until his shoulder rested on the floor and he curled his legs towards his chest. Even with his eyes closed he felt the room spinning and reflexively braced one hand on the cold floor. He welcomed the oblivion as he sank without a struggle knowing at least he wouldn't dream again tonight.
At least he would have Dean here with him tomorrow.
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It was still early when Dean slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was supposed to wait until after the Doctor had given him a final check later that morning but enough was enough and he had to move.
He placed his feet on the floor, holding his breathe a little as the pain in his chest and ribs flared for a minute but he was getting used to it. He also noticed with relief that the previously constant blaze of pain in his head had now been reduced to intermittent spikes. Dean paused, waiting for the other aches to settle then walked over to the small closet that held the clean clothes Sam had brought in for him yesterday.
He placed the clothes on the bed and sat down next to them, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand across his face.
Sam.
Dean knew his younger brother was struggling. Him getting hurt again hadn't helped but Dean had the feeling there was more this time than Sam bringing him back from the brink yet again. The first couple of days after he had woken were hazy but then severe concussion and a punctured lung were bound to screw you up a bit.
It was yesterday when they had reduced the drugs and his clarity returned that he knew something was off, something more than the usual trauma of seeing each other hurt. Sam had bruises on his face and Dean had seen the telltale blue marks from the shadows touch, the same marks he had scattered over his skin but otherwise his brother didn't seem to be in too much physical pain.
Then again, it wouldn't be the first time they had hidden their injuries and pain from each other. Like good little soldiers.
He slowly started getting dressed, pulling jeans on and somehow managing to get them done up, awkwardly using the hand of his broken arm. He shrugged out of the hospital gown and opted for just the overshirt which he first eased over the cast and then slid his good arm through before doing several buttons up with one hand.
Dean lay back on the bed, too tired to bother with socks and boots for the moment. He tried to recall what had happened at the school but could only glimpse fragments after he had been separated from Sam.
The punches. The bat. The noose. The sound of his bones breaking. Then Sam cutting him down. Sam fighting. And then clawing panic when he couldn't breathe. The last thing was Sam's voice.
Sam had been vague on the details so far except to assure him it was over. Finished. Dean had been content with that, more relieved that his brother hadn't been hurt.
Dean knew now he had been mistaken.
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Dean was aware of movement nearby and opened his eyes to the glare of the hospital room. His attention was drawn to the form standing by the window, unaware of Dean's wakeful state.
"Hey."
Sam turned and walked over. "Hey. How you feeling?"
"Ready to break out of this place." Dean sat up as he took in the haggard appearance of his brother. "Maybe you should be checking in though. You okay Sam?"
"Yeah. Just not sleeping real good. Not used to the quiet I guess." He smiled.
Dean nodded and continued with the pretense. For now. "Well I could use a coupla days Sam so you can have all the noise you want now."
As they walked out of the hospital side by side into the car park, Dean recognised the sour smell of alcohol and almost clumsy movements. He saw how Sam's knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel and drove them across town to a motel. He kept his mouth shut until they were inside the room.
"Tell me Sam." Dean sat down on one of the beds, noticing neither one appeared to have been used.
"What? Tell you what Dean?"
"Let's start with the drinking."
"Dean…" Sam shook his head.
"Since when do you drink so much alone you're still half tanked the next morning?"
"I told you I couldn't sleep okay. I just wanted…I just wanted to sleep Dean, that's all."
"See it doesn't work that way Sammy. Trust me I know. It lets you forget, let's you disappear for a while but it sure as hell doesn't help you sleep." Dean took a breath and watched as his brother leaned back against the wall. "What happened Sam? What happened before you got me out?"
Sam shook his head. This wasn't supposed to happen and he couldn't go there. "I banished the shadow Dean, end of story. What, you don't think I could've it without you?"
Dean knew Sam was trying to bait him. Deflecting. "What happened Sammy?"
"The banishing spell worked…"
"I know it wasn't a demon. It was Adam, his own shadow. I didn't figure it out until they were both in the room but that spell wouldn't have worked Sam."
"No…" Sam closed his eyes and folded his arms across his body. Fingers digging hard into his upper arms.
"Sam? Sammy its okay but you need to tell me man. You need to let me help you." Dean moved to stand in front of his brother, placing a hand on the younger boys shoulder.
Sam felt cornered and confused and so damn tired. You wouldn't kill an innocent boy would you Sam? But Dean was alive, Dean was alive.
He couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips as he felt the knife wound under his fingers and pressed hard. Adam was dead. Dean was alive. And he was fucking insane.
Dean could see his brother was losing it and it was almost unbearable to watch. He should have seen it coming, they never should have started this job, not so soon after…
"Sammy." Dean had to get through. "Tell me what the hell happened."
As Dean watched, Sam's eyes finally met his own.
"I killed him. I killed Adam. Shot him through the heart, silver bullet just in case y'know, didn't want to fuck that part up."
It started out as a laugh but turned into a silent sob as Sam sank down the wall, eyes closed. Dean didn't have the strength to stop his descent so just eased his brother to the ground with his good arm and sat shoulder to shoulder against the wall.
"You had no choice Sammy. He would have kept killing." Dean had no doubt, knowing his brother, that it would have been his last option.
"There's always a choice Dean, you told me that. I wish there wasn't y'know. I wish to hell that we didn't have a choice and then maybe everything would be different. If I'd never gone to college Jess would be alive, if I'd shot Dad he'd still be gone but at least he wouldn't have had to sell his soul to hell and you…you wouldn't have made a deal to die for me. You shouldn't have done that."
Dean turned and placed his hand around the back of Sam's neck, needing to ground himself as much as his brother. He didn't know how to fix this and it was bad. Far worse than he'd thought cause he knew how Sam felt. Knew the feeling of guilt and anger and self loathing when someone you loved had given their life for you. Even when you didn't want it.
He knew he would make the same choice for Sam's life every time. He also knew he couldn't change how Sam felt about it either. That didn't mean he was going to let his brother blame himself for every fucked up thing in their lives. He would just have to fix one thing at a time.
"Sammy I would've done the same thing y'know. I would have shot him if it meant that I saved lives. Just like when we have to kill a demon in someone's body. I mean we don't always know if they would've lived if we had the chance to exorcise it but we don't always get that choice. You know that. I know it sucks but that's pretty much all we can do man. We can only do our best."
Sam gripped his brother's arm. "It's not good enough Dean. I can't do this…"
"I know Sam, I know it's hard. You're gonna get through this, I'll make sure you do man."
"I keep seeing his face."
"You will but that's what keeps us who we are, makes us remember they were worth something. The ones we save and the ones we don't."
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Dean swallowed his pain meds and sat down on the edge of his bed, too tired to shower. He had left the bathroom light on wanting, needing something more than darkness tonight. Even to sleep.
He took a breath as he felt his body shake, emotions finally surfacing as his resolve and bravado crumbled in the silence.
Sam was asleep and lay unmoving and haphazardly sprawled on the bed as exhaustion finally claimed him. Dean had taken his boots off and had somehow removed his brother's jacket without waking him. That's when he had seen it. The blood.
Dean had unbuttoned and peeled back Sam's shirt, first noticing the angry bruise and shrapnel marks over his chest and then he had found the knife wound. Biting back his reaction, he had cleaned and dressed it and still Sam hadn't stirred.
The skin should have knitted together by now, even without stitches. Instead it had been clawed and peeled back and Dean knew it would have hurt.
He pressed his fist into his mouth, wondering how his little brother how gotten so broken without him noticing.
He would fix Sam, get him through this. Show his brother that the sacrifices they made were worth it even though they didn't win every battle.
They couldn't save everyone but Dean would make damn sure that Sam wasn't on the casualty list. Even if it was the last thing he did.
The end.
a/n: I know, I know...yes it's a messy, unresolved ending but it needed to be, I needed it to be. Please don't throw things!!
Thanx for reading!!
lb.