This one is set during Season 3

17. Drugged

Sam huffed as he watched Dean flirting with a girl on the other side of the bar. The noise was giving him a headache, and he was having a hard time concentrating on his research here. He was still looking for anything he could find that might get Dean out of his deal but so far, neither he nor Bobby had been able to find anything, and of course Dean wasn't going to offer any help. Not to save his own life.

The girl his brother was flirting with let out a loud laugh after Dean had leaned in and whispered something to her. Sam rolled his eyes. Looked like he was going to be heading back to the motel alone. Again. He was getting tired of this, but at the same time, he felt like he couldn't really begrudge Dean anything. If he could find a girl to take his mind off things for a while, who was Sam to stop him?

Sam sighed and stood up from the bar, only to be shouldered aside by a big guy, moving past him.

"Oof, excuse me," Sam muttered under his breath as the guy turned to sneer at him like it was his fault.

Dean was already moving over to him, the girl tucked close to his side.

"Hey, Sammy, Tammy and I are gonna head out. You okay?"

Sam bit his lip to keep from saying anything biting. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Alright," Dean grinned, and slapped him on the shoulder. "See ya later, kiddo."

Sam pressed his lips together in a thin line as he watched Dean leave, then turned back to the bar and gathered his stuff. He took up his half drunk bottle of beer and downed the last of it.

He stopped by the restroom, then once he was back out in the bar, he pushed past a group of people to get out. It felt close in there all of a sudden. He finally took a deep breath once he got out into the fresh night air. His head had started to feel a little fuzzy in there. He could really use a good night's sleep.

The motel was a few blocks down and Dean had taken the Impala, but Sam didn't mind walking. Maybe it would clear his head.

Which was feeling fuzzier by the second.

He frowned, then felt suddenly dizzy and slightly sick to his stomach. He reached out to grab the bumper of a car next to him and took several deep breaths. What the hell was wrong with him? Had he been…roofied?

Sam glanced back toward the bar, and saw three figures step out of the door; one of them was the man who had bumped into him. Their eyes locked on him now and Sam pretended to ignore them, taking off as quickly and as steadily as possible in the direction of the motel.

He fumbled his phone out of his pocket, forcing his fingers to work as he sent Dean a text: There's something stuck to my shoe.

Or, that's what he tried to text. He wasn't sure he had typed everything correctly. His vision was blurring, and he was having trouble concentrating.

He glanced back over his shoulder, and nearly stumbled, but saw the men still following him.

He reached for his knife inside his jacket. He didn't know who these men were, but he didn't want to find out what they wanted with him.

It was too late though, they were already surrounding him.

One grabbed his arm and hauled him into a back alley. He stumbled as he was thrown against the wall and collapsed onto his knees at their feet, unable to stand any longer.

"Sam Winchester," one of the men sneered, reaching down and grabbing a fistful of his hair to yank his head up painfully. "We've been looking for you, boy."

"Wha' d'you want?" Sam slurred. He was trying to pull his knife free, but was having even more difficulty doing so.

"We want payback," another man snarled. "You opened the Devil's Gate. Let all those demons out. There's a lot of hunters out there than want your blood, boy."

"But we got to you first," the first man said, a leer on his face, as he crouched down to look Sam in the eye. "And we're gonna make you suffer for it."

Sam finally got his knife free and he lashed out with it. But his movements were so slow and clumsy, that the man simply batted his hand aside, wrenching the knife from his weakened grasp.

"Sorry, kid. Not tonight." He raised a fist and Sam braced for the pain to come when the roar of an engine sounded down the street and headlights suddenly blinded everyone in the alley.

"Hey, asshats!" shouted a familiar voice as a silhouetted figure strode forward and kicked the man threatening Sam in the face. He tumbled back with a muffled cry and there was a brief scuffle, before the cocking of a gun.

"Get out of here if you know what's good for you!" Dean shouted.

"Your brother is evil, can't you see that?" one of the men demanded.

"Oh, is that why it took three hunters against one?" Dean demanded, keeping his gun level. "I'm not asking again!"

The hunters hesitated, then finally backed up. "You haven't seen the last of us," one snarled.

"Good," Dean said. "Next time you come after my brother, I'll shoot you."

They hurried off, and as soon as they were completely gone, Dean turned to Sam and reached down to help him to his feet.

"You okay, kiddo?"

"Dean," Sam slurred, leaning heavily against his brother.

Dean frowned. "You drugged?"

Sam nodded. "Roofies." He tried to hold onto Dean tighter, make his legs work, but it was hard. "You came."

"'Course I came," Dean said simply, hauling him back to the car. "Come on, let's get you taken care of."

They drove the couple blocks back to the motel and Dean hauled Sam into the room and lowered him onto his bed. Sam huffed, and groaned, and Dean helped him get his shoes off.

"Okay, you just need to sleep this off," Dean told him, dragging the blankets from under him and tucking them around his body. "I'll have tons of coffee waiting for you in the morning."

"D'n," Sam slurred, already so close to loosing consciousness but reaching out and grabbing Dean's hand anyway. "Thanks."

Dean smiled down at him and squeezed his hand. He reached out with his other hand and tousled Sam's hair gently. "Always, Sammy."

And for that night, Sam fell asleep letting himself believe that Dean would always be there watching over him, just like he always had been.