Bit of a break as my family went camping at the weekend, which was okay in the end, and college is - to my surprise - slowly but surely coming to an end for the year, so need to be a bit more focused on that ('more'... or, like, focus at all.. *ahem*). But yeah writing is always a great activity to peruse, so won't be stopping it! Now, here is the second request for AlxM, and don't worry about the last chapter! It was fine and I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think I could. This one is fine too! Thanks for the requests guys, you can keep them coming, but just a warning that I don't know when they'll be done, but they WILL be done unless I can't do them. Also this chapter includes a somewhat request from Shannanigans, who asked for some drugged/drunk Sammy... oh yes, that we can do now! Thank you for reading :))

Season: Five, sometime after the boys have gotten back together, probably in the time from **5x05 - 5x10** Spoilers for 5x03!

Characters/Themes: Sam, Dean, other hunters, Bobby; kidnap, rescue, demon blood, torture, guilt, breakdown, drinking, comfort (...missed anything?!)

Request: from 'AlxM' - "Set early season five. The brothers get taken by hunters. They try to force Sam to take the demon blood, or else die. Sam refuses. Dean's shocked, pissed and guilty. But then they turn that threat on Dean. So, disappoint Dean or let him die? Either way, he's letting him down, or that's what he thinks. Cue a little breakdown afterwards, maybe?"

They were walking back to the hotel after an easy job when the hunters hit them. They didn't even know a thing. One moment Sam was talking, the next he was on the ground, and Dean barely had time to say his brother's name before darkness took him too.

Now, tied up on a chair in some basement opposite from his still unconscious brother, Dean groaned in pain and annoyance.

Annoyance because... how the hell did these hunters manage to get the drop on them? They were the friggin' Winchesters, apparently the best hunters out there, and quite well known by monster and hunter communities alike. And rather disliked, to be honest.

But still. Dean hadn't managed to identify the two men who were holding them captive. He had seen them briefly when they had come down to check their haul were still alive, but Dean had just been waking up, and the men had been wearing masks. They had left before Dean could straighten up and try to come to terms with the situation.

Which was hard. Despite calling his brother's name every moment or so since Dean woke up himself 10 minutes ago, Sam had yet to respond, which alone crowded Dean's mind with worry so that it was harder to focus on the situation or how the hell they were gonna get freaking out of this place.

There was a low groan from the other chair, and Dean sighed in relief - Sam was finally waking up. That meant at least one thing was okay, for now.

"Sammy?" Dean called, watching critically as his brother screwed up his eyes in pain as he came around, lifting his head to squint over to Dean.

"Dean?" Sam asked back, tiredly. He tried to move his arms and legs and realised that he was tied to a chair, much like Dean was, and his eyes widened as he scanned the place, weighing the situation.

Fully awake now he realised they had a bit of a problem on their hands, Sam blinked over at his brother. "Dean?" he repeated, now sounding wary, "you okay?"

Dean snorted in amusement. "Aside from being whacked and waking up tied to a chair in this godforsaken place and then worrying for five minutes about your stubbornly unconscious ass... well, yeah," he replied, snark in full swing as an automatic defense from concern and panic.

The bitchface he got back was worth it, though. "How about you?" Dean added conversationally, as if they were sitting in the motel room deciding what to have for dinner.

Sam shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at his ropes on his raw wrists. "Similar situation, as you can see," he replied with a sigh before eyeing the place again. Dean nodded in agreement, also automatically cataloging the locked basement.

It was practically bare, with another chair in the corner. It wasn't very big either; there was a door to Dean's right about ten steps away, and a set of empty wooden shelves nailed into the wall to his left, about twenty steps away.

All in all, it wasn't a very friendly place and the set out, plus the fact that they were tied to chairs set in front of metal support beams, suggested that they had not just been brought here for a cup of tea and a jolly old chat with a friend.

As if to confirm this fact, the door opened and the two men entered, closing it behind them and surveying their victims.

They both got a double Winchester bitchface for their trouble, and the first man chuckled suddenly, filling the dangerous silence.

"Well, lookie at that," he sneered, glancing at his partner behind him. "Tim did say these two looked as different as night an' day, 'till you get 'em together and tie 'em up." He chuckled again, clearly finding something amusing. "Ain't that a charmer to come see."

Sam narrowed his eyes, not at all liking how this seemed to be turning out. "What do you want?" he asked coldly.

The second man grinned, looking interesting like a homicidal maniac, and took a knife out of his pocket before advancing on Sam, who glared at him. Dean immediately began struggling again, so the first man rolled his eyes and walked over to him.

"Look, kid," the second man began, leaning down to talk to Sam eye-to-eye, "you started the apocalypse, you beat up my friends and refused to help them, so now you gotta pay some kinda price."

He sighed as if thinking and brought the knife to Sam's cheek, pressing the blade into the skin and smiling cruelly. "I think this'll teach ya to mess around like that again." He chuckled as manically as the first man and applied a little pressure to the blade so it cut into the skin, forming beads of red that trickled slowly down Sam's face as he barely flinched at the pain.

"Go die in hell, bitches," Dean said dangerously, glaring daggers at the man who was hurting Sam, though his little brother was not giving the man the satisfaction of knowing that it hurt.

There was a sigh from beside him before Dean felt a hard punch to his temple, and he couldn't help grunting in pain as he tried to shake his head to rid of the edging blackness to his vision now. "Do us all a favor an' shut the hell up," the first man said in a bored voice.

The second man grinned at the reaction that Dean made when his brother was hurt, and vice versa. Sam glared at him. "So, you said something about Tim..." he began, trying to distract the men so they wouldn't hurt him or Dean again.

Man #1, beside Dean, nodded with a smile that had too many teeth. "Yep. Tim come to us after that whole diner shit, and he said, 'hey guys, can y'all help me with somethin'?' And we says, yeah, course - Tim's a friend of ours, see."

"An' Tim's friends were friends of ours too," Man #2, beside Sam, added. "So when we heard that you had let one of 'em get killed, an' then refused to help... well." the man laughed and admired Sam's blood on the knife in his hand, leaving the rest of the sentence to his actions.

Dean sighed loudly as if bored by the whole thing, and attempted to share an exasperated look with Sam, but his brother had a horrified look on his face and was swallowing hard as if remembering some horrible taste. Frowning in concern, Dean was about to ask why - screw the hunters standing beside them - when said men began to talk again.

"Anyway, we got business to attend to, haven't we, Simon?" the man who was talking to Sam announced, straightening up and addressing the other hunter, who smiled evilly in response.

"We sure have, Harvey," he replied, as if they were on a game show or something, and didn't have two angered Winchesters tied up in their basement, who were going to kill them both the second they got lose.

Rolling his eyes again, Dean interjected into their conversation, "well better get on with it and let us go then, Simon and Harvey."

Simon, the one beside Dean, punched him in the stomach, and Harvey mirrored the assault to Sam, and then both hunters promptly walked away, out the room, and closed the door behind them.

Dean immediately turned his attention to his brother, who seemed to be in shock, though the recent punch had brought him out of it a bit. "Sam?" Dean called anxiously, waiting until his brother looked right at him, still kind of dazed but at least in the moment.

"What do you know about what they're talking about?" Dean asked, not really wanting to push Sam at the moment, but knowing that he had to know before the hunters came back. "It's important now, Sam, tell me," he urged.

Sam swallowed hard again and hesitated before replying in a breaking voice, as if he wanted to forget the whole thing. "Well, when, uh, we separated... these hunters, Tim and Reggie and another, found me and went to kill some demons nearby." He paused, grimacing at the memory. "But, uh, one of them got killed. So they came back to me and, uh... wanted me to drink demon blood so I could get hyped up and kill the demons."

Dean blinked, staring at Sam in horror. "And... did you?" he asked tentatively, hoping he knew what the answer was. Sam immediately shook his head.

"No; I refused, so, uh, Tim tried to uh... force me to drink it. But I spat it in his face, beat them up and left. Drove as far away as possible. A couple of days later we got back together," Sam finished, flinching at the memory.

Fresh anger filling him, fueled even more by the cut on Sam's cheek, Dean ground out, "they're going to pay, Sammy," before the two hunters came back into the room, surveying their captives again like they were meat on a slab.

"How are y'all now?" Simon asked brightly, with light in his eyes not different than the eyes of a homicidal maniac. Dean glared at him with all his anger, and he just laughed, showing too many teeth. "That good, huh?"

Harvey joined in the laughter, and addressed Sam. "Well, you're about to feel better, mister. 'Cos ain't we got a present for you," he announced, and held up a small glass bottle, a one that maybe potions would be made in, for them all to see.

Sam's blood froze in fear. In the bottle was blood, and it didn't take a genius to work out what kind of blood. "No," he said in a hard voice. Harvey glanced at Simon and then back to Sam.

"Come again?" he asked in all politeness, as though he had just not heard properly.

"No. I won't take it."

Simon raised an eyebrow. "That's what I thought he said," he pointed out to Harvey, who glanced at him again and nodded in agreement.

Harvey cleared his throat importantly. He pulled out his knife again and walked towards Sam, blood in one hand, knife in the other. Sam shifted in his seat, steeling himself for what he knew was coming.

"Just say that one more time," Harvey whispered, placing the weapon delicately at Sam's neck, so he could feel it when he swallowed in sick anticipation.

"He said no, you freaks," Dean growled, glaring straight at the man who was definitely not in his good books at the moment, mainly due to the whole torturing-his-little-brother-both-mentally-and-physically thing.

Harvey paused, then straightened up, removing the knife from Sam's throat, to the hunter's wary surprise. In a flawless movement, Harvey tossed the weapon to Simon, who caught it and was beside Dean's chair, holding the knife point to his chest, in the next second.

Aside from automatically flinching at his brother being threatened, Sam forced himself not to react; instead staring Harvey coldly right in the eyes.

The man stared right back at him, and Sam realised this was more than a hunter - this really was a murderer. He had killed humans before, and intended to do so again. This man was dangerous, fatally so, and his partner was probably the same.

After the whole threatening-the-Winchesters thing was over - because that was a really bad idea at any stage, for anyone, and sooner or later, the kidnapper quickly realises their mistake, but by then it's too late, and the odds are in the Winchesters' favor... well, after that whole thing, these two mad hunters would have to be put down.

There was a tension filled silence in the room, then Dean involuntarily gasped in pain, and Sam had to look.

Which was what Harvey had been waiting for. The second Sam stopped staring at him, instead widening his eyes as he caught sight of the light slash in his brother's neck, and Dean's clear pained posture, Harvey punched him in the stomach.

Sam automatically doubled over as best he could while tied to a chair, and Harvey got a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back so Sam was looking up at the ceiling, gasping in pain, which turned to wheezing as his abused neck failed to do its job properly.

"Take the blood... or your brother dies," Harvey hissed, holding the jar of red above Sam's face so he could see it clearly.

Struggling to breathe, Sam still managed to shake his head. "Die... in hell..." he replied through gritted teeth. Harvey's eyes hardened and he let go of Sam's hair, the hunter's head falling forward as he gasped for breath.

Harvey nodded to Simon, who began moving the knife at speed to stab Dean in the chest, surely killing him. Sam wanted to close his eyes, he couldn't watch, this was his fault, but he'd let his brother down again if he didn't, and he couldn't, he couldn't watch...

"Stop!"

Even through the current situation, all four men in the room were trained hunters, and could do their job very well. So at the loud command, they all did stop for a second, a natural response for any trained hunter.

It was enough.

Enough for Bobby to grab Simon's arm, twisting the knife out of his hand before punching the surprised hunter, knocking him out cold, and kicking him once on the floor. Weaponless, Harvey could only stare in shock as Bobby grabbed him too and put him out with a couple of punches.

Panting slightly - a semi-retired hunter sure seemed to have to keep fit - Bobby looked up at Sam, then Dean, who were both staring at him with ridiculous expressions on their faces.

Bobby rolled his eyes. Typical Winchesters. He sighed and pulled a knife out of his pocket, leaning over to cut Sam's rope bonds, seeing as that kid was the closest. Rubbing his wrists automatically, Sam stared at Bobby until the elder hunter put the knife in his hands.

"No need to thank me, princess. Go see to your brother while I deal with these jackasses," Bobby said, turning away and glaring at the unconscious hunters on the floor. Not particularly pleased that one of them had been a good friend once, and was the reason that he had managed to find the boys; Harvey's number was still on his phone and it was easy enough to track the GPS that the idiot had not thought of turning off.

Not that Bobby was complaining. He gave the traitor a good kick in the stomach that made him curl in on himself even in unconsciousness, and then walked the couple steps over to the other hunter, Simon.

Bobby had heard news of this quite-new-to-the-job man. He knew enough to be aware of what had started the guy hunting, and what had brought him to his partner Harvey; Simon's daughter had killed herself after confessing to her father that he was a main reason why she was afraid. He had never been a good father after her childhood years, and had caused effective emotional trauma to his daughter.

As a result, his resignment to life had led to not noticing his wife was possessed by a demon ruling under Lucifer. Eventually he had had to kill her, and holding her dying body in his arms, had sworn himself to a hunter's job through his tears. Soon after, he met Harvey, who sympathised, and they had begun working together.

Just on the wrong thing. There was more to hunting, Simon should of known, than simply tracking for revenge. And kidnapping the Winchester brothers because of a hint from another friend who suggested that Sam had started the apocalypse that possibly may have been the reason why he had had to kill his wife with his own hands, and torture other humans for information on revenge... well, it was quite ridiculous.

Sighing, Bobby wished he didn't know a lot about the two hunters. It made the job harder, but Sam and Dean were his boys, and he was going to be angry at anyone who tried to take them from him.

He bent down and picked up the knife that Simon was going to kill Dean with. It was their special demon killing knife, that he had clearly stole from Dean's pocket while the older Winchester was knocked out. Bobby wrinkled his nose, pondering on whether to kill the two morons.

But he remembered that he and the Winchesters, at least, did not kill humans. Even Dean usually abided to this rule, although if they had tortured his brother they were in danger of death.

Thinking of the Winchesters, Bobby glanced up, watching, as Sam used the knife given to him to undo Dean's bonds, and help his brother to his feet. Bobby noted with concern that Dean had a clear knife slash to his neck, though it was shallow enough to barely be trickling with blood, though it must hurt like a bitch.

Giving the second unconscious hunter a good kick in the stomach too, Bobby sighed and forced himself to leave the two to their own stupid minds. It was time to get his boys to safety.

"Come on, boys," he mumbled, suddenly tired of all this. The boys were practically heroes, in his eyes at least, and they didn't deserve this crap; to be treated like criminals. Everyone makes mistakes, and all of the good that Sam had ever done completely outweighed the mistakes the boy accidently made, thinking it was the right choice.

Bottom line, his boys didn't deserve this, and he was going to make damn sure that he was there for them when they needed him. He owed them that, for always putting the world before themselves.

He moved towards the door, and, in a edgy silence, Sam and Dean followed.

Dean sighed and walked out of the bathroom, carefully checking the bandaged cut on his neck with a wince.

He had expected Sam to freak out and fuss over him, but to his surprise and concern, his brother had simply stared at him when they had got back to Bobby's, and then asked in a hollow voice if he needed help.

Sam had looked ready to collapse in defeat and tiredness, so Dean had declined his help, and had gone to the bathroom to patch himself up rather awkwardly using the mirror.

Of course, it wasn't that Sam didn't care. The kid's eyes told of fear, and worry, and urge to help and make better what had hurt his big brother. But seeing as he had got a cut on his cheek too, Dean had waved him off and told him to go look after himself.

Which was evidently not what he had been doing.

Because as Dean approached the bedroom they shared at Bobby's, he could smell whiskey. And quickly realised that Sam was doing something very uncharacteristic for him - drowning his guilt and sorrow in a bottle.

Huh. That was usually Dean or Bobby's gig; Sam always beat himself up over things too, but did it in a less alcoholic, more emotional damaging kind of way.

And to be honest, Dean wasn't sure which he preferred. A drunk Sammy was confused and mourning and hard to reason with, but easy to put down to bed, if he hadn't already drunk himself to pass out, which usually happened. Then a horrible hangover would plague him in the morning, because for some reason, Sam had never learnt to hold his liqueur like John or Dean or Bobby.

So Dean felt he knew what to expect as he opened the door to their room.

Sure enough, Sam was sitting on his bed, head tipped back against the wall, with a quarter filled whiskey bottle on the side table. Dean grimaced. He didn't really know how much Sam had drunk; probably more than the evidence suggested.

"Sammy?" Dean said cautiously as he walked into the room, towards the beds.

Sam didn't move or react for a moment, then shifted as if just hearing his brother's voice, and stated in a slurred way, "Dean."

Twitching a smile despite the situation, Dean sighed and replied, "Sam, why didn't you just go to sleep?"

"Always my fault," Sam murmured in what was assumingly intending to be an essay, but his drunk hazed mind couldn't comprehend how to talk properly any more. He hung his head instead, making himself more sick.

"It isn't your fault, Sammy," Dean replied soothingly, guessing he knew that Sam was talking about the whole demon blood and hunters fiasco, and trying to decide the best way forward now, with the destination of having Sam asleep in bed, preferably not with alcohol poisoning.

At the intended reassurence, Sam snapped his head up, half-glaring at Dean through heavy eyes. "Is my fault," he insisted, pointing to himself as though Dean didn't realise that he was talking about himself. "Always let you down, always le'in you down... sorry, D'n."

The poor kid was smashed and was still apologising for his actions. Dean had to swallow hard before he could carry on, because his little brother always found new ways to break his heart.

"Sam, listen - it was not your fault, and nothing happened that could be your fault anyway," Dean replied in a calm manner, knowing that whatever he said Sam was not going to either understand or upset.

Blinking getting heavier, Sam frowned as if he couldn't comprehend what they were talking about. He had probably forgotten already.

"Look, Sammy, you're wasted," Dean pointed out reasonably, and it would of been taken reasonably if Sam hadn't been just that - completely and utterly wasted.

Instead, he took it an insult rather than a statement of truth. "Yeah, like you could've done be'er," he replied in what was perhaps meant to be an aggressive tone. It was also incorrect, as indeed Dean could of done better, seeing as he was the one that could actually hold his liquor.

Deciding not to point this out too, Dean went for a direct approach. "Come on, Sasquatch, sleep time," he announced, and maneuvered his barely responding brother into a lying down position. Sam immediately turned around to lie on his stomach, face buried in the pillow, half formed words still being muttered.

Dean sighed and left Sam to it, sitting down on his own bed and scrubbing his face with one hand. He hated it when Sam got drunk. He hated it even more when the kid blamed himself for everything, though that was something that he couldn't help really.

It took less than a minute for the mutterings to cease, and Dean simply watched his little brother's back moving a little as he breathed.

Admittedly, it was always a nervous time when Sam got drunk, and especially when Dean didn't know how much he had gotten hold of. A couple of times Dean had had to call an ambulance because his little brother had drunk himself to unconsciousness and stubbornly stayed that way, barely breathing. And Dean did not take chances with Sam's life.

So he decided to just stay in the room, watching over, as was his job. He would watch over his little brother forever, because that was all he was sure to do.

And he should of been watching over Sam when he was force fed his addictive substance - his little brother so strong that he spat it out in his abuser's face, and left the normal life behind, again.

Yeah, that one, and many others, was on Dean.

A lot could be said about Dean and Sam Winchester, but one of the things that would probably not come to mind would be the word 'vulnerable'.

But when Bobby Singer looked into their room a few hours later to check on the idjits, all he saw was two exhausted by the world boys sleeping on top of the covers. Dean crashed out, and Sam sleeping off drink, but not the guilt that came with it.

And the only word that came to mind was vulnerable.

But that was okay. Because they were safe and stopped, and he was there to watch over them. Both of them. Bobby shut the door and headed to his own room, next to theirs, to listen out for any calls for help. He smiled to himself. He would be there immediately if they needed. Because they were his boys.

Author's Note: Okay, okay, I KNOW that Bobby is in a wheelchair in Season Five. And I LITERALLY remembered that as I was writing the last sentence. But it'll take too long to go back and alter it, and I just want Bobby to look after his boys, okay. So apologies for that clear canon error, but, uh, I'm afraid you'll have to deal with it, as I am satisfied with the way this story turned out, and do not want to have to go back and change it. So sorry, but hope you enjoyed Bobby taking care of his boys anyway. He's the best person to keep those idjits in line. Hope you enjoyed the story :))