Chapter 2

The heat was intense. Beyond intense. Burning his hand, his face and neck. But, that's how it goes.

And then the fire was gone and he could breath again. The vacated shell of someone innocent lay at Dean's feet, whimpering and shifting in his utter confusion. The guy was bulked. Muscles bulged even at rest. Sam stood looking at Dean for a beat.

God, look at him.

Head bowed. Neck muscles strained. Blood on his jeans from a head wound. Tied up. Rope burnt.

"Dean?" He whispered. His knees cracked as he crouched down in front of his brother. One hand beneath his chin. Just a quick glance. Still breathing.

He fumbled with the knots – swore with frustration and pulled out his knife. Once loose, Dean's right arm just fell at his side – but he pulled his left towards himself. A pain reflex.

"Hey, hey...it's over...he's gone."

I'm sorry I took so long.

Sam worked quickly on the rope on Dean's ankles. Then Dean shifted slightly, his shoulders moving forward forcing Sam to hold him up with one hand while he pocketed the knife again. Dean's head tapped gently on Sam's shoulder, each dab leaving a bloodied mark on his jacket.

"Dean...speak to me, man," Sam insisted. He lifted his brother's chin away from him. His eyes flicked over the bruises on the right side and the cut on his head, further back than the usual suspect. Gentle breaths on Sam's face. His eyes started to open and focus.

"Oh...my God, S'm," Such pain in his voice.

"Where does it hurt most?" Sam withdrew his hand. Dean held his own head up, at last.

"Stomach." Dean's eyes rested onto the body of his tormentor, sprawled on the floor behind Sam. The man moved his legs. Sam followed Dean's gaze and looked behind him.

"I know," he turned back to his brother, "I wanted to get you into the car first."

You're angry because I used my powers again.

The eye contact was almost unbearable. Sam looked away first. He stood up and gestured towards his brother to make a move. Dean remained still. Instead he simply looked up at Sam. Darkened eyes full of pain and exhaustion.

"Here, let me help," Sam whispered as he bent towards his brother, an arm down his back to initiate the movement. God knows how long he'd been strapped to that chair. He stood up, and immediately began to sink, his body leaning into Sam's frame. He clutched onto Sam's belt to steady himself.

"No...S'Okay... I can do it," he breathed, and they both stumbled towards the door.

At the motel, Sam drew a weary hand through his wet hair and glanced at Dean lying in bed. His thoughts returned to the moment when he'd actually found him. It could've been sooner.

But, priorities change when your only thought is...more. And, he always seemed to need...more.

Dean moved, and pushed away the covers from his chest. His eyes flicked open for a beat, before he turned his head to the right to see Sam's empty bed.

You still look for me.

Dean then saw Sam standing in the doorway, and relaxed. "Hey," was all he said.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked. He approached his own bed and gently sat down.

"Like shit," came the curt reply. "Gotta say though...you're timing was ...impeccable."

Sam smarted at the reality, jabbing at his brain.

"There wasn't time to get the knife," Sam began. "I know...I..."

"You saved me, Sam. And from more than just another beating," Dean closed his eyes. "That demon had the baddest breath on this earth. Damn near singed my hair."

Sam swallowed, and accepted the comment with a solemn nod. A release. That's what it felt like.

"Well, get some sleep. We're outta here in the morning, if you can make it." He stood up to walk around his bed. His eyes rested on his brother again. His mouth slightly opened. A slide back into blissful sleep.

Next time, I'll be there sooner, Dean. I promise.

THE END