Disclaimer: I don't own anything. A. N. So, I just realized that my fixing it to the proper case might not have made the title reference as obvious as I thought. I'm sure you've heard "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?", meaning, "Who'll watch the watchmen?". Most probably about police being awful. In this verse, Dean holds Sam's leash, even if with wavering success. Any candidates to holding him back? ;D Second warning, there's a little bit of puking in here
In the morning, Dean hopes against hope that he'll be able to waste time until Sam's new eyes introduce themselves. Go get Sammy the frou-frouest of lattes to start the day, and treats on the perfect line between healthy and delicious. That Dean can even make that call... He does listen when his puppy goes on a rant, unlike what people might suspect.
But once breakfast is done...
"Let's review the case," Sammy says.
Dean can't think of anything more pressing, or at least that his brother would consider such, so he huffs, "Okay. Sorry, by the way. I didn't mean to fuck up that bad."
Sam shrugs his words away, and demands to be walked through everything.
"Well, the victims were all dudes. One was noticed leaving with a woman, and even the others were the single and ready to mingle type, you know? Hearts accounted for, so no werewolf. And – fair enough, there was something kinda like a sigil or whatever on them. I should have looked it up. I thought it was just plain torture to pass the time. Doodling, if you want."
The bitchface is totally earned. "Seriously, Dean? Show me."
Dean should have just kept quiet about it, but he's a masochist. So he takes Sam's hand and draws the Amazons' mark on his palm with a finger.
If Dean were lucky, his brother would have forgotten about this. Instead, he snaps immediately, "What the fuck, Dean, Amazons! They are the ones using it, you can't tell me you've forgotten, you're not that stupid!"
Dean tenses up, expecting to be attacked for it, already planning the words to beg Sam to take a raincheck on this. Can't do eye surgery with a few body parts broken or dislocated himself.
But then Sam blanches, and - almost to himself - mumbles, "You're not stupid at all, even if you like to pretend." A beat of silence, and (so soft now, a puppy kicked way too often) he asks, "Dee... what did I do?"
"Huh?" is Dean's intelligent reply, because what the fuck? Sam should be trying to rip him a new one, not - whatever this is.
"You set me up as the Amazons' next victim. Don't try to deny the obvious. Is that why you didn't get me new eyes yet? So I wouldn't recognize the scene? I remember how that goes, you know. Every limb ripped out. I ...I guess that's a way to get rid of someone. Just add a little drug, and they'll bury me as the mystery serial killer's latest exploit. In that state, I'm not going anywhere for sure. Not until you decide to double back, if ever. At - at least tell me why. Which mistakes to mull over in the meantime."
Dean can feel the bile mounting with every sentence, but he's trying to hold it together. Vomiting on the carpet isn't going to help anyone. But what nightmare is Sam living in, that this makes sense to him?
His lack of an answer, though, seems to make his brother spin even more out of control. Sam ends up kneeling, palms up like Dean's his god, and he continues, "You do know you didn't have to outsource it, yeah? It's not like you don't have the know-how, or the means..."
Like his fucking problem isn't that Dean might want him in five pieces and stuffed into a hole to lose his last shred of sanity. Most of it is obviously already gone, because in what fucking universe, Sammy? Only Dean can't wail it as he'd like to. No, what upsets Sam is that his brother's going to let yet another monster broad have at him. Like he might just sit here and watch her -
Dean loses his fight with breakfast. The carpet can have it.
"Dean?" Sam has the gall to sound confused, as if he has no idea why Dean would like to be a frog right now - at least he could project his whole stomach out of his mouth and be done with it.
"Shut up!" is all he can growl, before retching again. Sam, mercifully, does.
When he's done - and has cleaned up after himself too, for good measure, and to give himself a few extra minutes before he has to face the madness - he glances back at his brother. Sammy hasn't made a peep since, but he hasn't moved, either. He just stays there, frowning a little as if he's trying to puzzle out an especially obscure case.
"Puppy, hey." Dean's kneeling in front of him, petting his hair. "Is that really what you think?"
"You..." Sam can't seem to end that sentence.
"Did I toss you at an Amazon? Yeah, sorry about that. You can kick my ass for it tomorrow if you want. But is that really the only motivation for it you could imagine? Jesus, Sammy. It's me."
"I - you didn't - " Sam still can't wrap that brilliant brain of his around one actually likely sentence. How much did Dean fuck up his brother, that the one time when 'fixing Sammy immediately' is not his only priority, the boy immediately assumes well-deserved (that's the worst; if only he'd attacked Dean, it'd be welcome) murder plans? Does he even have a sense of self separate from him anymore? (Yeah, pot, kettle; still.)
"I wanted to do this quietly, but you know what? I'm going to walk us all through it, because apparently someone needs me to. When she knocks on our door, though. Not now. If you figure it out early, you'll get a reward."
Dean feels really, really obvious, so hopefully Sam will. Well before his daughter is of age for her murder attempt.
"We still have some time, don't we? Can we just..."
"Anything you want, Sammy," Dean says, and he means it.
His brother gets up, tugging him along, and leads them both back to the bed. Dean's a little weirded out, because this doesn't really feel like a sexy mood, but follows along. Whatever. When he finds himself blanketed by his baby brother, nuzzling at his neck, he holds onto Sammy with both hands, starting to caress him slowly, back, arms, flanks. A happy sound echoes from Sam's throat. It's really like having a pet sometimes. Probably. Not like Dean ever had something else prone to demanding cuddles to deal with.
A hour later, when he almost thinks that his brother might have opted for another nap, there's a soft, "Did you want to get even?"
Once Dean wormed his way back into Sam's good graces, the boy had dropped the subject - just like any other sexual indiscretion Dean has fallen for in his reckless youth. When they argue, even when they end up airing old grievances, Sam for some reason never goes there. Maybe because he has decided to forgive and forget. Maybe because he hates it too much and doesn't want to sour himself too bitterly.
But even if he acted differently... "Wrong. Even? Last night isn't on you. It's on me, again. You didn't try for lawyer so long ago to have forgotten how to pin a fuckup on the right person - especially not with just two options. Or at least you shouldn't. I mean, if you need a new brain too, let me know right now."
"Can you stop trying to get me angry at you? I don't want to. Not when I'm confused, and this - wait, did I stumble onto it? Was it actually a kink thing for you?"
Dean actually slams his head back into his pillow, because where does Sam finds these ideas? "No, but say it was. Wouldn't it be easier to mention it? You know I have my ways to be persuasive...and in a different setting, I'd have got to watch the show, too." Not that he thinks he could do that for different reasons without actually attacking the interloper. But still.
"What reward?" His brother asks a little later.
"Well, huh...I haven't thought it out. I was planning to let you pick." Spur of the moment is how Dean works best. Look at him. Planned this, and made everyone involved miserable. Maybe he should have winged this too.
Sam snorts, which is good. If Dean's stupidity is amusing, it's reason enough not to wisen up, no matter how many years they accumulate.
"I'm giving up, then. I just want to forget it ever happened. Now, and preferably after you explain, all over again," Sam huffs.
"Okay, baby boy. Whatever you say. What do you want, mh? Gonna find you a podcast on serial killers?"
His brother chuckles, pleased. Dean still finds it a little weird, but he's proud to know how to cheer him up. "One coming right up."
He spends the rest of the day spoiling Sam rotten, in every way he can think of, and when it's about Sammy, he can be very creative. With every hour that goes by, though, he's counting back in his mind to the likely arrival of their visitor. His calculations are based on last time, even if he'll be ready a few hours earlier - and if she comes later, well. So long as she arrives. After all, he doesn't know where the Amazons' main quarters are, and so can't guess how long it'll take her to get here once she's ready to. Sure, maybe he should have been investigating more, but frankly? He doesn't care.
They hadn't managed to wipe them out last time, and depending on how Sam reacts once he does actually explain everything, they might not want to actually murder anyone this time around...Except yesterday's skank. He doesn't think Sammy might forgive her, and Dean's so not asking him to.
They have always found a way to make do when they needed an organ before, true. But keeping this option open? They might decide it's a good idea, for rare, specific situations. And they wouldn't have to deceive each other in the future, which should make it less distasteful.
It's about half past six in the afternoon when she knocks. Sam's still in bed - spent most of the day there, actually, because it's not like they were going to be out, so might as well be comfortable. Dean opens, and sizes her up with a long look. Hair like her mum, hesitant smile on pretty lips, and blueish eyes. She's smaller than any of them - after all, she's a teenager still - but Dean knows her size belies her power.
He invites her in, and her eyes dart from him to Sammy. "Uh...which one of you is Sam Page?"
Dean smiles, easy, "That'd be him." He points at his brother, who pretends to ignore everything that's happening, even if he knows the boy is coiled like a spring.
"I know it might sound rude, but...would you let us talk in private, please?" She asks, all painfully innocent. Yeah, Dean can totally see the family resemblance.
"I mean, I could..." He's pretty sure Sam just stopped breathing, "but let me see if I know why you're here anyway. I mean, it'd be kinda moot keeping things secret then, right?"
She glares at him, but nods tightly.
"Hi, dad," Dean says, in a mocking high voice. Then, in his own, "Well, I'm not entirely sure how it goes from there. Your aunt, or cousin, not sure - said that her family was abusive and she wanted out, but maybe you have a different script."
She lunges - at Sam, the little idiot - but before she can get anywhere close Dean has two bullets in her gut. Look, maybe one would be enough, but Amazon strength - better safe than sorry. She ends up crouching on the floor, bleeding out. So what if Dean picked the most painful place of all to wound her. She tried to attack Sammy, she deserves it.
"We weren't done talking, baby girl," he snaps, stalking to her. She tries to struggle, but it doesn't matter how they might have trained her. She's literally been born today, and anyway, nobody's perfect on their first case alone. A stomp at the right angle, and Dean can handcuff her, easy as you please. And then ties her down to a chair,coarse rope looping over and over and extra knots, just to be sure.
She glares murder at him, but it only makes him smile.
"You can relax, Sammy, Our guest isn't going to hurt anyone."
"Good." Sure, Sam needed the reassurance, but Dean's still almost surprised by how smug he sounds about it.
"Now, baby girl, the facts."
"Iris," she spits out.
"What?"
"My name. It's Iris." This time it's a pained hiss.
Dean laughs, "Well, aren't you just perfect, Iris. A perfect baby monster. " He grabs her chin, moving her this way and that and her eyes are growing storms. He can see some promising flecks in them. He'll have to discover in time if they are a little closer than he first thought to the rainbow Sam's going to have to give up.
"So pretty," he comments offhandedly.
"Dee," Sam growls. Really, as if Dean was a cradle snatcher, especially when he has his brother splayed in their bed.
"You'll see, baby boy. With a little good fortune, she'd have slayed men by the hundreds. Well, technically her kids would have. But she got none - kinda makes her really feel like family, huh? Rotten luck must be in the blood."
"Trying to bore me to death?" Iris huffs, and Sam laughs at that. Well, fuck him. Dean's a born entertainer.
"Nah, just explaining. Because you must think you're a baby monster on your mother's side, but truth: you're a full monster, little one. Your dad? The most perfect and - when he's in a good mood - actually sweetest monster anyone could have the luck to be obsessed with. And then, of course, there's uncle Dean - that's me. The monster other monsters have nightmares about."
"I object, your Honor," Sam interjects with a grin.
"Fine, yes, baby djinns totally make their moms check the closet for Sammy, too. I'm just saying - you still ask questions first. Hell, often you'll let me pick...let's be honest, how viciously someone gets killed. Not like I'd tell you no these days, would I? And it wouldn't have crossed your mind to go full My Sister's Keeper, would it? Or my daddy's, in her case."
"What?" echoes from both other people in the room, one confused, one incredulous.
"Mmmh yeah, should have figured old melodramatic movies didn't make the cut in whatever speedrun training you got, girl."
"It's not like there weren't compatible options, Dean," Sammy snaps.
"Not compatible with me having to stare at them for the next few decades, nope. One single thing, baby boy. I get to be finicky about it. Hers might just be pretty enough."
This time Sam laughs. "You're impossible, you know?"
"Mind being fucking clearer?" Iris growls
"I had to make you because that idiot wasn't happy with the eyes at the morgue. Or on the street, I guess. I mean, technically it's not even lethal..." Sam purrs.
"That's the question, isn't it? Do we patch her up and keep her around for the rest? Send her back, maybe? Or just put her down and burn her out back?"
Her eyes are wider than ever, and Dean relishes that puppy eyes won't be an issue going forward. It wouldn't do for his brother to lose his super weapon. "You can't..."
"You'll find out we can. Monsters, remember?" Sam says, and he still manages to sound - a little sorry, maybe, but definitely not enough to not go along with Dean's plan. Then, he adds, "You too," and Dean grins at him even if he can't see it yet. "Anyway, wasteful as it is, we can't keep her, Dean. You never even let me get a pet, and that wouldn't try to fight back. Leave her or not...I suppose it's your call."
"Come here then. Help me get yours." It was kind of stupid to tie her to the chair, knowing the upcoming operation, but Dean appreciates the obvious workaround.
Sammy doesn't even need help, their voices an all too clear indication, to get behind her. Dean has a sterile container for the little that'll be needed - they never go without one these days, because lugging around whole bodies is just not practical if you need only a new spleen or whatever.
With his brother's body behind her, and Sam's huge hands holding her still, better than any posture collar, there's nowhere for her to even try to escape. Dean busies himself with the spoony things he'll need. Hey, he's not a surgeon, and let Sam procure them; hell, if they had lost them, actual spoons would do, as far as he's concerned.
She screams her pretty head off, of course, but not for long. Seems passed out - maybe finally went into shock. It would have happened earlier if she was of a less sturdy breed.
"Hop back to bed, Sammy, now it's your turn."
His brother complies, a soft smile on his lips. Dean's briefly grateful that, even if he's no licensed surgeon, he's always been good with his hands. Do you have something to take apart and then put back, just so? You can always count on him. Delicate work? No trouble.
Is the something to fix precious (way more than any gold and gems might hope to be)? That just means he's going to do his best work ever.
He doesn't dare go as far as administering actual anesthesia; botching that up is the way to needing another five organs, and even if they have all they can desire at hand, that's a little too much on the brainy side for him to trust himself with it.
Sam gets a belt to bite on, but like people of Benton's own age, the secret is to be quick. Well, that and the infinite trust he has in Dean, that stops him from thrashing. Dean could have tied him up, technically, but it didn't occur to him. It's only after he's done that Dean realizes he's been humming all along. Hey Jude. He can't be bothered to feel awkward about it. He's pretty sure it helped, anyway.
The formula gives their healing an extra kick, too, so it doesn't take as long as eye surgery normally would for Sam to recover. However, his brother is completely still for a moment, getting used to the new situation. Dean barely breathes, waiting to see if it all went well. It's his first work on this specific organ, after all. For a moment, he's tempted to hide Sammy 's old eyes before he can see him, and keep them. Formaldehyde, maybe, or something. They always burn anything damaged enough to need replacing, but the mere idea leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Then he imagines Sam rooting among his things for extra bullets, or whatever, and finding them instead, and - yeah, he doesn't know how he could explain that.
Finally, Sam's new eyes flutter open, and under his stare Dean exhales slowly. It worked. Sammy's definitely seeing him - glaring, in fact - and...yes, it's weird, but it's tolerable. It will be. They'll both get used to it.
"You were right, you know?" Sam huffs.
"About?" It doesn't sound like he should be as smug as he normally would at such an admission.
"This whole thing...it's your fuckup. Seriously, Dee, what the hell was this all about?"
He shrugs. It's not like he could explain himself and make sense.
Sam gets up, stretching like a big cat. "Lucky you, I'm looking forward to hunting down a few more Amazons right now. Well, one for sure."
"On it, baby boy." Dean grins at him.
"We're going to have to talk about it later, though. Seriously." Sam's all stern.
Dean nods, because of course he does. If he's lucky, he'll manage to goad Sam into kicking his ass instead. Right now, they have work to do.