Surviving Is Just Step One

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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Chapter 21: Reward of Being a Martyr

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Rule # 21: The only reward of being a martyr is knowing with certainty that your fate's in someone else's hands.

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SNSNSN ~ Purgatory ~ SNSNSNSN

The Leviathans were coming, every instinct Dean owned told him that. Course it wasn't like the Leviathans were bothering with stealth either, didn't give a thought to snapping branches and crunching leaves underfoot, of announcing their approach. But that was the difference between being the hunter and not the prey, the lack of fear, the egotistical notion that they would come out the victor.

And Dean wasn't all too sure their brag wasn't right. Because seriously, here he was sitting on his hands playing bait and Cas and Benny were out there determined to play his protector while neither one was up to snuff, had trouble gaining their feet and stumbling into the forest, let alone going mano e mano against a pair of Leviathans.

'If this was a WWII movie, I would at least have a grenade to make my last stand, to take out a few Nazis with me,' Course not like he could pull the pin…'less he put the grenade in his mouth, used his teeth to pull the pin like twisting a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue. But as it was, he was defenseless, could only play his part and pray Cas and Benny could take down the Leviathans without getting themselves killed in the process. To that end, he let out another bellow of pain, cut it off mid-way hoping the Levis thought he was trying to stifle it, to hide…not to lead them right to his doorstep.

SNSNSNSN~ Purgatory ~ SNSNSNSN

Benny froze in the forest and hunkered down, told himself that Dean's aborted cry right then, wasn't real, was Dean luring the Big Mouths in for the party. But it sounded real, didn't doubt Dean's pain was real. The realization made it hard to start the trek away from Dean again. 'How 'bout you concentrate on making sure no Leviathans reach him, huh? That's what he needs from you,' he chided himself as he began to move forward, tracked the sounds coming his way, of the Leviathans seeking out their wounded prey.

Benny hated that his legs faltered a moment later, that he had to grab for a tree, lean against the trunk and marshal his strength even as he fingers coiled tighter around the handle of the knife he held, spoke of his determination to see things through. Baring his vampire teeth, he pushed off the tree and advanced. He vowed that he would not let the Leviathans reach Dean, even if it was the last thing he did.

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Crouching, his back against a tree, Cas waited, knew the Leviathans would be crossing his path soon. Found it remarkable that, after running unaccompanied for weeks, trying to keep ahead of the Leviathans, to ensure they chased him and would never find Dean, here he was letting Dean call the Leviathans to himself, was actually facilitating the very scenario that he feared most in Purgatory: Dean at the Leviathans' mercy.

It was that very fear that had led him to abandon Dean in the first place, had given him the strength to turn a deaf ear to Dean's prayers asking him to come to him, for them to travel through Purgatory together. Because he alone knew the true lack of mercy the Leviathans had, had felt their evil, had known their thoughts, had done their bidding. Knew better than Dean ever would the raw enjoyment they had at taking a life, that they would have at taking the life of the human who had murdered their messiah. Knew that it would be kinder if the Leviathans did as Benny predicted, simply killed Dean out right.

'I will not let it come to that,' Cas vowed, coming to his feet, sensing his prey was close, thought that only Dean Winchester could cause him to hunt the very creatures he had been running from all this time. To make him do the illogical, but for all the right reasons.

Then he stalked out from his cover and, swiping out with Dean's knife, he scored a path across the black tall male Leviathan's shoulder before ducking under a thrown right cross. Raising his knee, Cas plowed it into the Levi's gut but his opponent lurched away before he could bring the knife blade down and sever his neck.

Tightening his grip on the knife, Cas squared off with the Levi, growled, "I'm the one you want. Go ahead and tell your companion where to find me." 'Leave Dean alone, make Benny's confrontation with the other Leviathan unnecessary.'

The Leviathan smiled as they circled one another. "I'm not really that good with sharing a meal. And besides, you're not the only want we want…you were just the only one we could track. I should really thank you for leading us to Dean Winchester. We'll be touted as heroes for capturing him. Personally, I'm hoping to get a taste of him at our celebration banquet."

An icy chill slipped down Cas' spine at the realization that this Leviathan knew Dean's identity, knew what Dean had done. 'And he's right, I led them right to Dean.' To a Dean that was now alone, vulnerable, would be tortured before being killed if Cas didn't manage to come out of this confrontation the victor.

With an enraged blood thirsty snarl no angel should ever utter, Cas launched himself at the Leviathan.

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As it turned out, the Leviathan found Benny before the vampire could find her. Only his vampiric speed allowed him to duck the blade that imbedded in the tree trunk behind him. Not wasting time being grateful, he instead came up swinging, sending the lithe blond female Leviathan retreating back step after step. Until the Leviathan stepped into his swing, grabbed his wrist and nearly broke it as she slammed it across her knee, sending his knife tumbling to the ground. Then he got an elbow to the face and an uppercut to the jaw that knocked him to the ground. Crab walking backwards, he retreated from the Leviathan's slow advance. "Don't suppose you would call a time out, let me catch my breath," he smart mouthed, knew his suggestion wasn't being taken under advisement when the Leviathan showed her big mouth and sharp teeth.

But when she came for him, he snagged a tree branch from the ground and whaled it into her temple. Then she was the one falling. Taking that intermission to scramble to his feet, Benny held onto the branch like a baseball bat, smiled as the Leviathan came to her feet. "Well, darlin', you had enough foreplay?"

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Dean heard voices pinging off the trees, couldn't make out the words or identify the speakers but he knew Leviathans usually didn't go into small talk here. Were more about teeth gnashing and pain than verbal repartee, which left Cas and Benny as the chatty ones.

"What are you two trying to do, talk them to death?" he grumbled, hating all the while that he couldn't be out there, had no idea how his friends were fairing. But at least they were still alive. "So far," he darkly said but a sound closer to home had his eyes darting to the right. "Oh crap," he breathed as a dark suit clad freckled faced, male Leviathan with red hair parted some branches and hopped out into the trail they had blazed. "Great, what are you supposed to be? The Leprechaun Leviathan?"

The Leviathan smiled with his human teeth and shook his head. "Not a Leprechaun, Winchester," he denied amicably as he drew closer to the immobile human like a cheetah would an antelope. "I'm the new king, thanks to you."

"Huh, so you're Dick's understudy. Gotta say, Roman had more style," Dean taunted, thought if he was going down it wasn't going to be begging. Meeting the pale eyes steadily as the Leviathan crouched down in front of him, he waited for the killing blow to come. 'I really could use that dead-man's grenade right now.'

The new Leviathan head honcho didn't rail at Dean's assessment but chuckled. "Can't fault you there. He had charisma, expensive taste and vision."

"So what do you bring to the Leviathan party?" Dean asked as if he cared, hoping to mask the fact that he was just able to move his fingers, might be able to stage an attack…in about an hour when he could do more than just give Leprechaun Levi the middle finger.

The Leviathan leader raised his arms wide to indicate the forest and all that went with it. "Why this paradise?" he sardonically announced.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, sure you got lots of votes."

"Well you and your angel friend ruined our chances of being free again," an edge of malice beginning to seep through the Leviathan's cool demeanor.

Dean gave a ballsy smile. "I'd apologize but we both know I wouldn't mean it."

"But what I can give them is you," the Leviathan stated, pointing a deliberate finger at his trapped prey.

"Wow, I've never been into the political scene before let alone been a cheap politician giveaway for votes. Will you write my speeches or do you have a speech writer for that?" Dean snarked though he knew he was going to be a silent presence on the campaign trail. Dead silent.

The Levi's lips turned up into a threatening smirk. "Let's just say you're going to be more a symbol of my power."

Dean nodded his head, fought down a hard swallow even as he discovered that he could move his hand if he concentrated real hard, started to inch it closer to his pocket, to the only weapon he had. "The old ways are still the best ways, right? When a king conquered another king he took his head and put it on a spike at the town gate."

"That what you think you are, a king?" The Leviathan drawled with disdain but he scowled when it elicited a roiling chuckle from the human.

It took Dean a moment to quiet down his laughter. "No, no king, just a stupid, lowly hunter. But you know what, I did gank Dick, helped Cas send you unlucky mothers back here to live out your days, both of which I'm pretty proud of."

The Leviathan's hand shot out, seized Dean's neck and squeezed. "And I'm going to proudly display your head in my foyer," the biblical creature snarled.

"You have a foyer? Here?!" Dean wheezed out in mocking disbelief. But his fingers, uncoordinated and tingly, finally did his bidding and slid into his pocket. Then he felt the small cylinder tube under his finger pads. It wasn't much, wouldn't do much damage, would offer a distraction, not an exodus, would only be a last strike, probably even meaningless. To everybody but him. Because if this was it, was the end of the line for him, he wanted to go down defiant. It was all he had left to hope for.

SNSNSNSN~ Present ~ SNSNSNSNS

Startled out of the clutches of the dark memories, Dean realizes that a hand is pressed against his cheek, that there's physical contact going on that he didn't give the green light to. But he can't get his eyes open, can't move, can't flinch, lacks the energy to do any of it, is cut off from the world, but not the increasing pain razing through his back.

And though the hand's not hurting him, feels…reassuring, he offers up a moan of protest.

"You're cold. That could mean you're losing blood again or going into shock or…" a voice raw with frustration and worry theorizes before unleashing a stringent curse. And it's Sam's voice, Dean knows it blind. Wants to offer some encouragement to Sam, but it's beyond him, like everything is. The heavy weight of his limbs, of his eye lids, its like he's been caterpillar toxined again.

When the hand expectantly leaves him, he feels something akin to fear, until he hears movement beside him. Then something's being draped over him, tucked around him and the hand's back cupping his face and he hears his brother's voice again, close. "We're almost there, ok, then you can crash as long as you want, make me be your servant, bring you drinks and pie and …" a breathless exhale "….anything else you want."

Dean should jump at the opportunity to turn him into his personal slave, but he doesn't, doesn't offer up a rejoinder, isn't blinking his eyes, isn't moving and its bitter proof that Sam should be driving to the nearest hospital to their current location. But he won't be doing that for the simple reason that, Dean didn't want him to. And Dean's wishes, they mattered to him. More than Dean would ever know.

So it's not a hospital that has Sam turning off the highway half an hour later but a surprisingly well-kept mom and pop motel's welcoming presence. When he parks the Impala in the motel's parking lot and cuts the engine, he doesn't head for the office, instead instantly turns to Dean, hopes to have more luck rousing Dean than he has the past hour.

Fingers pressed against Dean's neck, he's not thrilled with his brother's fast heart rate but it's reassuring all the same to feel that wonderful proof of life under his fingertips. So Dean's in there, somewhere. He hadn't missed Dean's moan of …was that protest or pain? Either guess makes Sam's gut clench.

But he can't force himself to get out of the car, to leave Dean alone until he knows Dean is somewhat conscious, could at least shout if he needed him. So he gently taps his fingers against Dean's cheek, entreaties, "Hey, sleeping beauty, need you to wake up a bit. Can you do that for me?"

And honestly, Dean doubts he would have found the energy to open his eyes for anyone else, but Sam isn't anyone else, is his brother, is still there with him, even after his fakeout about Benny coming, is still at his side for some crazy reason, is still keen for his company, lousy as it is right then.

Sam's exhale is a shaky laugh of happiness as Dean's eyes miraculously flicker open, settle on him. "Hey," Sam greets, lets his warm tone convey the things he's not up to saying.

"Hey," Dean hoarsely parrots back before he manages to lift his two ton head from the Impala's headrest, squint into the afternoon sun filtering through the Impala's windshield. "Where we?" he slurs, mouth as dry as the Sahara.

'Together' Sam silently replies before he sheepishly shakes his head, admits, "Not sure." Because he hadn't had a location in mind, had just started to drive, already had everything he needed right there in the Impala. "Gonna check us into the motel. Then I can do a pharmacy run. Get food too. You hungry for something?"

But even the mention of food has Dean swallowing hard, fighting his stomach's urge to manifesting it's unhappiness in a more demonstrative, gross way. He tries to shift upright in the hopes of catching more of the breeze coming into the window but the stab of pain emanating from his back takes his breath away, has him tightly grabbing onto the edge of the car's seat and nearly sends him back into the unconsciousness of a few minutes prior.

Watching Dean go rigid, secure a white knuckled grip on the Impala's seat and take in a sharp inhale of breath, Sam curses himself for not making a pharmacy run before now, for thinking whatever pain medication the hospital pumped into Dean earlier in the day was still holding his brother's agony at bay. "Hang on, hang on, I'll get us a room," he soothes before he bolts out of the car, enters the office as a man on a mission and cuts across the clerk's "How are you? It's a nice day out there" greeting with a frank, "I need a room, two beds and a kitchen." The 'right frigging now' is understood as he tosses a couple twenty dollar bills on the countertop.

It's probably the quickest check-in Sam's ever managed and yet it seems too long until he's back in the Impala, can reassure himself that Dean's still there, is even awake, silently watching him as he puts the Impala in reverse and then sends the classic car lurching forward to park in front of their allotted room. It says a lot that when he flies out the door and circles the car, Dean hasn't opened his car door yet, in fact hasn't moved.

It makes Sam open the door with caution, afraid Dean will topple out. But his fears are misplaced because Dean sits stock still, gives him a look…that he can't interpret. "Ok, we're in lucky room number thirteen," he commentates as he pulls Dean's arm over his shoulder and levers Dean from the Impala, loops his arm around Dean's waist when his brother's on his feet, sort of. Biting his lip when Dean gives a contorted cry of pain that Dean chokes off almost immediately, he soothes, "Sorry, sorry, I don't know how to do this without hurting you." Then he's more carrying Dean than steadying him as they slowly head for the beckoning door embossed with a faded number thirteen. He's so intent on reaching their destination he almost doesn't catch Dean's weak voice asking a question that shouldn't need to be asked.

"Why are you doing this, Sam?" Because Dean knows what he's done, the mess he's made of things, knows that Sam has choices, doesn't have to be there. "I know how pissed you are at me." And he certainly knows he doesn't deserve Sam's careful handling.

Shooting Dean an incredulous look, Sam realizes it's wasted on his brother, whose head is down, chin resting on his chest. So as he unlocks the room and pulls Dean over the threshold, he makes his verbal reply. "I'm mad at you, Dean, I don't hate you." The 'idjit' part silent but hopefully recognized.

"You should," Dean grunts out, too low for Sam to hear.

Then Sam's easing Dean's nearly limp frame onto the bed farthest from the door, gently settles Dean's head onto the pillow and then brings his brother's legs up onto the mattress. He claims a seat at Dean's hip and reaches his hand out to cup his brother's face. "I need to get you something for the pain," but just thinking about leaving Dean right then, even for a mission of mercy, makes him sick.

"Pocket," Dean croaks, knows he's said it too softly when Sam leans in closer. "My pocket," he repeats.

An expert at interpreting Dean's short hand conversations, Sam reaches into Dean's jean's pocket, all the while expecting some snarky comment about personal space but none come. And then he's got a small cache of loose white pills in his hand. He gives a wide eyed look to Dean. "Dean how did…are these…."

Dean gives a wane smirk. "Once a klepto…"

Sam's too grateful that he doesn't have to leave Dean alone for a pharmacy run to criticize Dean's actions or the fact that Dean didn't tell him about the pills sooner, like the moment his pain started to crescendo. Picking up Dean's hand, he rolls two pills into his brother's palm then goes to the kitchenette, grabs two glasses from the cabinet, dumps the pills in one glass and fills the other with water before returning to his former position on his brother's bed.

Dean's already tossed the pills into his mouth, is reaching for the water glass and Sam doesn't deny him the freedom of holding his own drink. Well, most of the freedom because his hand's there too, guiding the glass, making sure it doesn't slip from his brother's feeble shaky grip. Worst thing is, Dean doesn't even glare at him for the assist, simply takes a healthy swallow of water to get the pills down and then relinquishes the glass to Sam's care.

Then Dean shuts his eyes, seems all too scarily willing to surrender to unconsciousness again. Is so not….Dean at the moment that Sam's fighting down a stab of panic. Knows he should be getting their bags from the car, offering to go grab some food, heck, consult an EMF because their luck is so bad right then it wouldn't surprise him if they were about to bunk down in a motel with ghosts.

But he does none of it, can't make himself move, just watches Dean sleep, or pretend to sleep.

Dean knows Sam's waiting for something from him, but he can't, for the life of him, figure out what. Knows too that its cowardly to play possum but he does it anyways. He feels both guilty and relieved when the bed shifts as Sam gets up. But an unexpected dread settles in his chest when he hears the room door opening, knows Sam's about to leave.

"Sam."

Sam swivels around in surprised pleasure at Dean's call of his name and some of the tension leaks out of him as his brother's eyes met his.

"I…." Dean starts but doesn't know where to go from there, how to say sorry, to ask if Amelia called him back already, to say he'd understand if Sam goes and doesn't come back, to ask, in the same breath, for Sam to please not take that option, to not leave him.

Sam doesn't prod Dean to continue, simply gives his brother a warm smile and vows, "I won't forget the pie," waits to see Dean's small but mercifully there smirk before he closes the door behind him.

And this time, when Dean closes his eyes, it's not about avoidance but peace because Sam's pledge to bring back pie? He knew what it really was: Sam-speak for 'Of course I'm coming back, jerk.'

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and I'm really eating up your lovely reviews!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.