CHAPTER 10 - No I wont be fooled again
Inside the tiny washroom Sam splashed the cold water on his face to clean up. He wasn't covered in soot but the smell of thick smoke still lingered in the air around him, he could smell it on his clothes and taste it in his mouth. He used the inside of his shirt to dry off and then turned to leave, surprised to find that the bathroom door had locked behind him. He tried it again and while the door moved he couldn't get it open, something had been pushed up against it to keep it shut. He swore under his breath, banging a fist against the door to get the lone clerk's attention then pausing as a chilling thought trickled into the back of his mind. There was something about the brief conversation with the clerk that now made the hair on the back of his neck stand.
Sam started to pace the floor of his small confine as his mind started to race. In his line of work there was no such thing as coincidence; Dean and his father had been trailing a group of cunning Shapeshifters and now he was left wondering if maybe they had managed to miss just one more along the way. Though it seemed unlikely, he knew it wasn't impossible. He grabbed the phone from his pocket and flipped it open, instinct telling him that he should get a hold of his brother but just as their father had said, reception in the area was bad and he couldn't even get a signal. "Damn it." He growled to himself, tucking his phone away as he turned his attention back to the door.
He stood frozen in the moment, the sound of the dripping faucet doing little to distract him from his thoughts as he weighed his options and the consequence of his actions, or lack there of. Though his brother would be willing to put up the fight, Dean was injured and exhausted, in no shape to face off against another shifter. He had to get out of there, he had to help his brother. Sam let out a cry as he threw his shoulder against the door and pushed with everything he had, forcing the door open a crack. When his feet started sliding on the dirty tile floor, he put his back to the door and braced himself against the base of the toilet. He swore under his breath, feeling the tension turn to pain as the muscles in his left leg pulled and stretched at his wound. It was a small victory when he gained an inch, at least he knew he could get the door to move. But at this pace, he only hoped that he wouldn't be too late.
When Dean saw his younger brother swing the bat from the corner of his eye, the only thing he had time to do was put an arm up to deflect the blow that was meant for the back of his head. He let out a swear as the aluminum bat hit hard, sending a painful shock up his forearm to his wounded shoulder. Preoccupied dealing with the pain and the unexpectedness of the attack he never saw Sam take a second swing until he felt it on the back of his legs, the blow forcing his knees to bend and sending him to the ground. Caught off guard by the strategic hit that had sent him to his hands and knees, Dean had no time to react as he took a kick to the face. "You son of a bitch!" He growled, well aware that the man towering over him wasn't his little brother at all. He made an attempt to reach for his gun but a kick to the stomach made him collapse.
"You've got a lot to learn kid." The shapeshifter started, the smile creeping up to the corner of its lips as Dean cradled his stomach. "You and your old man." It continued, tapping the bat on the ground by the young hunter's face and letting out a chuckle when he flinched at the sound. "You two think you're so damn good at what you do."
"We've killed off the rest of your gang." Dean hissed, forcing himself back up to his hands and knees. "I'd say we're doing pretty good." He silenced when the shifter delivered a solid kick to his ribs, this one knocking him back against his father's truck and stealing the air from his lungs. He gasped for breath, his mind starting to wander as he watched the thing get a better grip on the bat in its hands. If it was standing there in front of him borrowing Sam's form, where the hell was his little brother? He thought to himself.
"You should have killed me when you had the chance." It snarled as it pressed the end of the bat into Dean's chest to watch him squirm. "And trust me, you had a chance but you and your old man couldn't tell the difference between me and the folks you two yahoos are hell bent on saving. If you would have left us alone in the first place, all those people would have been fine." It paused for only a moment as it used the bat to force Dean to look up. "I was waiting for your daddy to show up but you got out of his truck instead. So tell me boy, where is he?"
Dean swallowed hard as he leaned his head back against the truck, the bat under his chin holding his head up and ensuring that he was staring at the shapeshifter he and his father had somehow managed to miss along the way. "He's dead." He stammered, sucking in a breath as the bat finally pulled away. "I went to find him but one of your buddies got to him first." There was a pause and as the shifter's eyes narrowed, Dean couldn't help but feel that stare go right through him.
"Liar." It started simply as it raised the bat and took another swing. Dean ducked to avoid the blow and the metal bat hit the truck behind him with a thud that echoed in the night. "If he was dead than you'd be too! So where is he!?"
Dean rolled to his left and barely managed to avoid the bat as it pounded into the pavement by his head. The next swing however, was one he couldn't avoid and he let out a groan as he felt it smack into his ribs again. He curled into a ball to cover himself and made another attempt to reach for his gun, his efforts thwarted when he took a hard hit to the back of the hand. The tears were threatening to fall as pain spread like a wildfire he couldn't control. Dying in the burning cabin while saving his younger brother would have been a much more heroic way to go, than being beaten to death in an empty lot.
With one last shove, the display that had been propped up against the door to keep it shut slid forward and Sam was able to push it open. He reached for his gun as he made his way back towards the counter and leaned over to peer behind it. Sure enough, there on the floor in a puddle of blood was the lone clerk who'd been working the nightshift. "Shit." He muttered to himself, loading the gun and racing towards the front of the store. That's when he saw the shapeshifter towering over his brother, the bat in its hand raised up and ready to take another swing. He swore under his breath and his heart skipped a beat at the sight, he was expecting to see the clerk who'd locked him in the bathroom out there, not himself wielding a baseball at his own brother. He had to act fast because if Dean was on the ground that could only mean one thing, that he'd already taken one hell of a beating and just one more blow might be the last. Eyeing the bell that hung in the door for only a moment, Sam knew he risked getting the shifter's attention if he stepped out of the store. Getting its attention could spell disaster if it was as smart as the others had been, one wrong move and his brother was an instant human shield. So Sam took aim from inside the store and fired two shots right through the pane of glass in front of him.
Doing his best to shield himself from the relentless blows, Dean thought the beating would never end. Every time he tried to get back to his feet, he'd take another hit that would send him right back to the ground. He was vulnerable and he knew it but all he could think about was Sam and what might have happened since the shifter was now sporting his form. Fighting to stay conscious amidst the pain of it all, Dean never heard the glass shatter or the sound of gunshots tear up the silence of night. What he did hear however, was the aluminum bat hitting the pavement, it was the last thing he heard before everything around him faded to black.
Though he was relieved to see his target crash to the ground, his older brother didn't stir. "DEAN!" Sam shouted, hearing the panic in his own voice as he pushed the door open, the swing of it sending shattered glass raining to the pavement below. He tucked his gun away as he approached the truck and took a quick glance around, at this hour of the night there wasn't another car in sight in the lot or on the road.
He paused in his steps as his eyes fell to his older brother. Dean was lying on his side by their father's truck, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and a dark bruise already visible along his jaw line. One arm was tucked tight against his body while the other was stretched out behind his back, the pose unnatural and awkward. The shifter lay nearby and for Sam, seeing himself lying there on the ground next to his brother with two bullet holes to the chest was surreal. He kicked the aluminum bat out of the shifter's loose grip and watched absentmindedly as it rolled away coming to a stop only when it hit the truck's tire. "Dean?" Sam said softly as he knelt down next to his older brother. When he didn't get a response, he carefully pulled the other man up into a sitting position and cradled his face in his hands. "Dean wake up man." He started, watching as his eyelids fluttered and then finally opened. "Hey, you alright?"
Dean let out a groan as he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Already he could feel the bruises starting to form and each hit he took had surely left its own mark. "I guess I was wrong." He blurted as he straightened out and then leaned back against the truck behind him.
"About what?" Sam was quick to reply, catching his older brother's eyes and watching as he struggled to hide the pain.
"About not needing your help." There was a moment of silence as Dean's gaze drifted down to the dead shifter nearby, finally admitting he couldn't handle the job on his own. "It would have killed me if it wasn't for you."
Sam didn't offer a reply, he knew there was nothing for him to say that would ease his brother's shattered ego. "C'mon, let's get you to Bobbys." He said softly, looping an arm around Dean's waist and hoisting him up. When the other man let out a swear, Sam couldn't help but apologize. He didn't know where to place his hands, didn't know where Dean had been hit and just what was sore or broken. "I've got you."
Dean draped an arm over his little brother's shoulder as the other man carefully helped him make his way towards the passenger door of the truck. The arm around the back of his waist was a painful reminder of the beating he'd just endured. It didn't matter how gentle Sam was being because absolutely everything hurt. He let out another swear as his battered body protested every move they made and every step they took. The hit he took to the ribs was the one that hurt the most but it was the one that had sent him to the ground that was the hardest to deal with. He could still feel the bat on the back of his knees as Sam reached over to open the door and help him up into their father's truck. "Sammy, grab the body." He called out, clutching at his stomach as the sound of his own voice echoed inside. "We can't leave it here when that damn thing died wearing your pound of flesh."
Sam gave his brother a nod as he made his way to the back and pulled the tailgate down. He was so focused on getting Dean the help he so desperately needed that he never even thought of the shifter's body and what it would mean to the life he'd been living if they left the thing lying there with a dead clerk inside the store. It was the attention to details that made Dean such a great hunter, if only he could realize that himself. Picking up what was in all appearance his own body and shoving it into the back of the truck, Sam slammed the tailgate shut and grabbed the bat from the ground before making his way to the driver's side. He slid the bat behind the seat and shut his door, pausing for only a moment as he eyed the man sitting next to him. Dean was slouched in his seat, leaning heavily against the door with a hand still clutching his stomach. "You alright?" He asked again as he slid the shifter in drive and pealed out of the parking lot.
"I'm awesome" Dean blurted, shutting his eyes as the road ahead of him twisted and spun in his blurry vision. He swallowed hard as he let his head fall back against the headrest behind him, the roar of the engine casting its vibrations throughout the old truck. "I let a few shapeshifters pass me by, made a wanted man out of myself, took the cops on a high speed chase, crashed the Impala, almost got dad killed, almost got you killed, and couldn't even handle the hunt I let get out of hand."
"Anything else?" Sam asked without looking over.
"Yeah, that damn shifter put a dent in the side of the truck. Dad's gonna kill me." Dean whispered as he closed his eyes, the overwhelming negative thoughts taking hold of him once again.
There was a moment of silence and while Sam let out a sigh, Dean swallowed hard. "He's not going to kill you." Sam quietly replied, well aware that his words were of little comfort to the other man. Despite how he had tried to help, there just seemed to be nothing he could say or do to lift the crushing weight from his older brother's shoulders. The pressure didn't just come from their dad, Dean was at times as hard on himself as their father was.
Dean let out a smirk. His little brother just didn't understand, he never would because no one was watching and judging his every move, no one was expecting more than he could possibly ever offer. With his head in his hands he couldn't help but let his eyes shut, all he wanted was for the whole ordeal to be over. To be back behind the wheel of his car on some long forgotten highway just doing his job, faking his way through another long day, saving lives to give his own a sense of purpose and worth. "Hey, stay with me." Sam warned, reaching over to give the older man a soft nudge.
"I'm awake." Dean muttered, clutching onto his side as the truck hit a pothole in the road. "Well let's keep it that way. I know you're sore and exhausted but until we get to Bobby's place I don't want you passing out on me." There was another moment of silence and Sam couldn't help but take a quick glance over. He was expecting some kind of snappy smart ass remark, so when he got none he knew something was wrong. "Dean." He barked, reaching over again to give his brother a nudge. When he still didn't get a reply, he swore under his breath. His brother was still slouched in his seat, clutching his side with one hand and his head with the other but he wasn't responding. "Dean!" He repeated, pulling over to the shoulder of the road in haste. "Hey, c'mon wake up." He continued, reaching over to put a hand against his forehead and feeling the heat radiate from his bloody and soot covered skin. "Damn it, Dean wake up." He growled, his mind racing as his hand slid down to the other man's throat. He was still breathing and he still had a pulse but Sam knew his brother was in trouble. Unable to wake him, he fished the cell phone from his pocket and dialed Bobby's number. With service spotty at best he knew there was a possibility that his call would get nowhere, but he needed to give it a try, he could think of nothing else to do.
"Yeah?" Bobby asked simply, knowing that the boys weren't too far on the road behind him.
"Bobby, Dean passed out and I can't snap him out of it." Sam blurted, doing his best to keep the panic out of his voice. Sliding back over behind the wheel, he shifted the truck into drive with his free hand and pulled back out onto the road. "I don't know what to do, he's burning up and..." Sam trailed off as his eyes caught a mile marker on the side of the road. His heart sank like a stone, they were still miles away from anywhere. "Bobby, I don't know what to do." He repeated.
Bobby swallowed hard as his gaze momentarily drifted over to a bloodied and battered John Winchester in the seat next to him. Comforting the boys was supposed to be his job, he was their father. But once again Bobby found himself trying to fill those shoes, trying to find what they needed to hear to know that everything would be alright in the end. "Sam there isn't much more you can do for him right now." The veteran hunter calmly replied. "Just get him to my place, I'll look after him."
"Bobby I don't know just how bad a shape he's in." Sam went on, his voice wavering as he spoke. "I don't think he's..."
"Sam." Bobby interrupted, doing his best to calm the younger man and keep him from loosing his head. "Just get him to my place, let me worry about it, alright?"
Sam swallowed hard. "Alright, see you in a bit." He replied, flipping the cell phone shut and tossing it aside. He took a deep breath as his gaze once again drifted over to the man slouching in the seat beside him. "Just hang in there Dean." He whispered, thinking of all the times his older brother had watched over him. "Just a few more miles..."