None Goes His Way Alone
By Coffeemaniac
Not Slash
A/N: Set in Season 1. After Shadow but before Devil's Trap.
"There is a destiny that makes us brothers: None goes his way alone: All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own." (Edwin Markham)
The Siege
When Sam's captor burst into the metal prison, the vision he'd been having had just started to fade. His head still felt like a jackhammer wanted out of his skull and Sam's vision was blurred.
He hadn't managed to make sense out of all of it but he did know that the man in front of him was on the short list to be killed.
Shaking with adrenaline and pain from getting slammed into the wall on top of the vision's after-effects, Sam forced himself to calm down.
"What's your name?" Sam asked.
"What?" The man didn't turn, just stood staring at the door.
"Tell me your name."
"Eric."
"Okay, Eric, we need to get out of this room. We're trapped in here."
"No."
"You're a soldier, right? Then you know that our position is indefensible. Get yourself together and open the door before it gets here."
Eric shifted, his eyes darting between Sam and the door. His fear drenched Sam making it difficult to stay free from it.
"Untie me first," Sam said.
"I already told you 'no'."
With trembling hands, Eric went back to the door. He didn't get the code right the first time and cursed while he tried again. Sam shifted from one foot to the other, nervously waiting for his first step outside the cage.
He really wished he had use of his arms but Eric was about one freak out away from just shooting everything in sight. He didn't want to push his luck.
Speaking slowly, Sam said, "We need salt and water and a rosary or cross, something blessed. Do you have those things?"
"Kitchen, maybe. What is that thing? Is Battle one of them?"
"A demon took his body. It's possession."
Eric stepped across the threshold and for a moment Sam wondered if it was a trap. Maybe the stranger and the others were testing him to see if he really believed in demons. But, watching Eric lurch towards the exit, pale and shaking, he dismissed that idea. Clearly the man had witnessed something he couldn't explain.
Sam followed close behind. He could smell sulfur and blood. His stomach flipped thinking that Dean was out there someplace. If the demon found him…he didn't finish the thought.
He looked around the space that had been a secret from him. It looked like a basement; all cement foundation surrounding a furnished room. He recognized some of it from his vision. There was a table set up with monitors and Sam noticed the display of his prison. A couch and a small coffee table sat a few feet away. Wood beams set floor to ceiling were placed in their load-bearing positions to keep the house from collapsing.
Sam searched with his eyes as he moved towards the far wall and the wood stairs set there. He could see Eric doing the same thing.
"Get to the kitchen. Bring back the salt and a container of water," Sam whispered.
"What about the, uh, cross, or whatever."
"Get that too, if you can. I can still bless the water without it."
"Can you do a, you know, an…exorcism? Get Battle back."
"Yes," Sam assured him. He didn't want to tell him that the victim of a possession rarely gets saved. It was better to let him hope and come back with the supplies than just abandon Sam and Dean to the demon.
"Where is he?" Eric asked just before he gasped.
Sam stopped and jumped behind one of the wooden pillars. With his back to it, he focused on listening. Eric had disappeared in less than the beat of his heart.
The voice of the stranger, of Michael Battle filled the basement. It was his voice, but not, as it sang, "I killed your bro—ther."
"No," Eric yelled out and Sam knew that the demon wasn't talking about Dean.
When more than a moment of silence passed, Sam dared a peek from behind his useless hiding place then jerked back again when Eric skidded across the floor.
His body was sitting and his arms were flailing as Eric collided against the metal wall of Sam's prison with a curdling crack. He slumped over, his neck twisted to a deathly angle.
Sam held his breath. His vision had come true.
He peered out from around the pillar, first one side and then the other. He didn't see "Battle" but he did see a threshold that led to another room.
Knowing the demon had to be close Sam crept around the pillar heading towards the next room. As he crept across the floor, hoping to find his brother, Sam kept a look out for a weapon, preferably a big knife or an axe. A bullet wouldn't stop a demon but taking its head would do the job. How he intended to wield an axe with his arms still bound he didn't know.
He could hear the hum of electronics and his own footsteps against concrete. He could hear the faint sound of metal jangling but didn't know what that might be.
Seeing the steps at the far end of the room, he made his skeletal plan. He needed to check the next room, hopefully find Dean, and then make a fast escape. And find a big knife, he reminded himself.
"Sammy," the deep voice of Battle taunted and Sam turned around.
The demon inhabiting Battle's body casually lifted his hand. A push of energy sent Sam flying backward. He hit the edge of a table sending monitors crashing to the floor. He tucked himself into a ball as glass and sparks showered him. He rolled away from the debris, surprised when dizziness blurred his vision. He swore as he awkwardly forced his body to start moving. Just as he reached his knees the demon shoved a hand under Sam's arm and drew him up.
For a moment, Sam's legs dangled above the floor, his eyes watering with pain, but the demon set him down with a menacing smile.
Black eyes flooded Battle's natural color as the demon said, "You shouldn't fight me, Sammy, I'm here to save you."
Breathless and angry, Sam asked, "Why…why would a demon save me?"
"There's no fun if I tell you everything."
The demon released Sam's arm and took an appraising step backward.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…" Sam began the exorcism quickly.
The demon's hand flew up in a blur swinging back across Sam's head. Sam's body spun, out of his control, and landed a couple of feet away. As he rolled on to his side, he continued the de-possession spell.
"omnis satanica potestas, omnis…"
The demon cried out in rage but Sam heard pain too. It was affecting him. The demon rushed forward trying to land a kick to Sam's head. Sam twisted to avoid the blow but he collapsed on one side when his shoulder took the impact. Struggling to keep going, he said,
"incursio infernalis…"
"No," the demon cried out and reached down to pull Sam up. He grabbed him around the neck, cutting off Sam's breath and words. Sam squirmed in the tight grip but there was no comparison in strength. He started to lose consciousness when another voice seeped into his blackening view.
'"adversarii, omnis legio…"
The demon arched backward with a scream and his strangling hold loosened. As Sam sank to his knees, black smoke blew past him with a sound like rushing air.
He shook his head trying not to pass out when Battle landed in a heap beside him.
"Sammy." A strong hand wrapped around the back of his neck and Sam looked up into the anxious face of his father. "Are you all right?"
Sam coughed, trying to get air back into his starved lungs. He cleared his throat, his eyes still watering after the demon's death grip and asked, "What are you doing here? How did you find… Have you found Dean?"
"Yeah, I found him. He's okay, Sam."
His father helped him stand up but they both rocked under his unsteady balance.
"Where is he?"
"Right there." John pointed across the room and Sam found his brother hovering unsteadily on the other side of the room.
Relief flooded through Sam making him weak. Dean looked like he was barely staying on his feet but he was alive and not possessed.
"How did you find us," Sam asked.
"I'll explain everything," John answered. "But, we need to get out of here. Can you walk?" Sam nodded. "Then help me with your brother."
"Can you?" Sam shifted his back towards John indicating his arms.
John turned him then cursed. "Hold still, son."
There was a tug and his arms fell forward like the limbs of an untethered puppet. Burning pain exploded through his joints and muscles, driving Sam to his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut and couldn't hold in the moan while his body slammed him with agony.
John knelt in front of him, supporting his weight while he breathed through the pain.
Sam gradually became aware of his father firmly rubbing his shoulders and upper arms, trying to get the circulation back. He took long breaths but he couldn't get himself to move. Too many traumas on top of no water or food, and his body simply refused to cooperate with him.
He cursed as a thousand hot pokers jammed into his limbs adding new agony. He had experienced the "pins and needles" of a waking hand or arm but it was nothing like this.
Then, just as he thought he might pass out, the pain started to fade. Gradually, he could feel it backing away, releasing him from its grip and he took more long breaths. His arms and shoulders started feeling tired, achy and heavy but the paralyzing agony fled.
"It's okay," he pushed out breathlessly, shifting away from his father's ministrations. "It's better."
John sat back studying Sam's face with a familiar intensity.
"We'll have to wrap those wrists later. You're going to want ice and heat to deal with the swelling."
Sam nodded. He already knew but he couldn't deny that it was nice having his father take care of him.
John stood first. He helped Sam up next groaning with the effort. In other circumstances, Sam thought he might have teased him about that. Instead he noticed Michael Battle lying close by.
"What about him?" Sam motioned towards Battle.
"Can you help Dean? I can get him."
Sam shook his head ignoring how the motion irritated his shoulders. "He's been holding us here. He tortured Dean."
"He was possessed," John said.
"No. He wasn't. Not then."
His father stopped, his whole demeanor changed as he pulled himself up to full height and his lips thinned. He took a step towards Battle who was starting to make small movements.
"Dad, Sam," Dean rasped with a wince. He was standing much closer apparently managing to cross the room on his own. His voice was still almost soundless. "We gotta go."
Sam nodded and weakly grabbed his father's arm, pushing him towards Dean. He put Battle out of his mind for now. The most important thing was getting Dean out of there before more demons showed up.
The Story
Dean loved the sling holding his arm immobile. He loved the bed he was sitting on. It was soft and comfortable. Even his clothes felt great. And he thought he smelled really good.
After icing down his shoulder, his father had forced the joint back into place and Dean thought maybe his father was the greatest human being ever. He looked at Sam who was sitting quietly on the other bed and was overcome by affection for his little brother too.
"You guys are the best," he said. His voice sounded weird but the ice chips felt wonderful on this throat.
"Thanks, Dean. It's nice to be appreciated," his father said.
"Well, we do have the best drugs," Sam said and Dean grinned at him.
His father smiled when he came over to sit beside him. Dean missed hunting with him. They used to laugh a lot when they were hunting together, even after Sam left.
A wave of sadness passed through Dean. He wiped at his eyes.
"I think we may have overdone it," his father said and patted Dean's leg.
Sam used a straw to suck water out of a bottle. There were bandages around his wrists and apparently his arms hurt when he tried to lift anything. When he spoke his voice wasn't as soft or encouraging as Dad's.
"How did you find us?"
"I was following a lead that the demon was here."
"The demon?"
"Yeah. I didn't know you boys were involved until I found the Impala parked in the garage behind the house. When I started searching for you I found one dead guy on the porch so I just kept looking until I reached the basement."
Sam sighed. "I can't believe it was dumb luck."
"It's a first," Dean said. He held up the index finger on his good hand to illustrate.
"Why were demons interested in you this time?" his father asked.
"Looking for Sam," Dean answered with a grin, glad he could contribute.
"I don't know," Sam said. "It said it was rescuing me."
Dad rubbed fingers over his eyebrow. "That can't be good. And what about the kidnapping in the first place? You're saying that wasn't related to the demon?"
"Her daddy doesn't like us," Dean said softly, hoping only his father could hear him.
"Dean, go to sleep, rest your voice" Sam said. Dean just sat up straighter. He didn't want to sleep. He liked being there with Dad and his brother.
"Jacob Moore, Jessica's father, thinks we…murdered Jess," Sam said. "He sent those other guys after us. They were using Dean to get me to admit it."
"Son of a bitch," Dad said and stood up. Dean wished he'd sit back down. He missed having him close by.
"I know," Sam said.
"What are you going to do about it?"
Sam shook his head. Even drugged, Dean could tell when Sam didn't have any good answers.