A/N: Please do not read too closely into any of the monster stuff because as I'm sure you've seen by now, I am so bad at constructing any kind of hunt/case/monster plot; if it doesn't seem like it makes sense-you're right- it doesn't. I simply live for the emotional baggage. Anyways, enjoy!
Three useless interviews in, Sam was beyond frustrated with the lack of progress. He was becoming convinced that something else was the cause for these disappearances. The claw marks on the tree and the missing people...maybe it was just coincidence. Yeah-he knew that coincidences didn't exist in their world. But honestly? Every rock they turned over was a dead end. Dean was adamant this was a hunt, and Sam believed that Dean believed it. But maybe his brother was only seeing what he wanted to. No one at the care facilities was really suspicious of anything-they agreed it was unfortunate, but nothing too strange. Jody had gone a little farther away and also turned up nothing and Dean was back at the house pouring over everything again. He'd wanted to come but his leg was still too unreliable. Leaving another dead end, Sam called Dean and Jody to give them the update. Before Sam could finish complaining about the deplorable lack of anything, Dean excitedly interjected the group call.
"Th' all 'ent m'ssing f'rm d'frnt pl'ces, r'ight?" They all went missing from different places, right?
A general affirmation came from his audience.
"A'nd all t' p'l-laces are f'ar 'way f'rm e'c'oher." And all the places are far away from each other…"
"Dean, my god, would you please cut to the chase!" Sam's patience was dangerously thin. He was anxious to put the hunt beyond them and head back home.
"T'h c've 'ss ch'ntd."
"One more time?" Sam wasn't hesitant to ask Dean to repeat himself-it was much harder to understand him without being able to look at his lips and Dean knew that.
"C'a ve. 'Ch'nted."
"The cave's enchanted?"
"B'ngo." Bingo
"Newbie hunter here-what exactly does that mean?" Jody chimed in briefly.
"It means that the Adlet's cave is masked. It's a real place but it exists in a kind of parallel universe. Two people can be there at the same time even if they start miles apart. Usually, though, it's the getting out that's hard, not the getting in."
"One way ticket, then?" Jody added.
"U'sully." Usually
"I'll take a stab in the dark and assume the thing's gotta be killed before the enchantment is lifted?"
"Exactly." Sam responded to Jody's comment and began trying to formulate a plan.
"Full moon's coming-we're already cutting it pretty close and we still have no word on how to kill it."
"W'l f'gure. S'mthin ow." We'll figure something out
"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten, Dean the optimist." Sam's remark came out a little darker than he'd intended but Jody covered for him.
"Let's meet back up and troubleshoot."
Jody's cover, however, wasn't enough to dissuade Dean from shooting back a defensive jab at Sam's crack.
"Y'eh. Op'tsmsm pr'tty r're f-or D-n. Y'ou k-now m', S'm. A'ways g'vin 'p." Yeah. Optimism's pretty rare for Dean. You know me, Sam. Always giving up.
Dean couldn't help but put himself in the third person-a way to view himself outside of his condition. A condition that's improvement, as Cas had just told him, was dependent on his sheer will. Despite the fact that he knew Sam meant well, Dean couldn't stop the retort. He hated himself for it-he knew Sam was holding on by a thread-but it was a compulsive defense he'd simply been conditioned to carry out. Shameful, Dean hung up the phone and paced around the living room. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why didn't he let it go? Nothing Sam said had been wrong. He was pessimistic. The comment struck a chord, though; this time, his wellbeing was dependent on optimism. An optimism Sam implied he didn't have. Still, Dean couldn't deny that he was changing...slowly but surely. He was taking on a different kind of role...a role he usually expected Sam to fill. And just like that, Dean realized that this moment was a step further in the wrong direction-the direction Dean never wanted them to take. Sam was turning into him-turning into all the parts of Dean that Dean tried to make sure his brother never took after. While Dean was desperate to restore the balance within his mind-to tip the scales back to their resting position-Sam was subconsciously trying equally hard to restore the balance between the two of them. If Dean wasn't behaving much like Dean, then Sam would fill the role.
"W'ha I w'ould'n g've f' a'drnk." What I wouldn't give for a drink
Dean spoke to himself as he paced around the house and at the sight of the pictures on Jody's fridge, a memory suddenly resurfaced. Dad was on the phone with Pastor Jim-talking about the Adlet. Something about not being able to find someone in time...Dean thought he meant that there wasn't time to find victims before it was too late. More recollections came, though, and Dean tried to piece together the fractured memory of conversations that had only been relayed to him. Dad was calling other hunters-he and Jim wouldn't be able to help-wouldn't be able to kill it. Dean wished there was someone still alive-someone they could call. But it seemed that the mystery of the Adlet lay with him alone. He would have to remember. Dad had made a joke-if the lore was metaphorical, any hunter would surely be able to kill the thing. Metaphorical? So the literal meaning was important, then. The meaning of what, Dean still didn't know.
"C'mon m'n. B' s'ful f'r s'm'hing." C'mon, man. Be useful for something.
Dean was wracking his memory for any shred of overheard mumblings, any story that had been told to him in passing. Then, without warning or control, a barrage of images flooded him: memories of hell. And from somewhere in his subconscious, the faint sound of Dad's voice rang in his ears. "Blood of the damned, huh?" With the one phrase, all the information came back to him. Dean had been out for the weekend with John's permission-Sam was at Bobby's anyway. Returning from his eventful few nights, Dean met up with his dad in Oregon and he'd come back to John on the phone with Bobby. Dad explained that there wasn't a hunter around who could kill the thing and the best they could do was keep tabs on the situation in the future. Dean hadn't been paying that much attention, he was exhausted and nervous Dad that would be upset he was getting back so late. Luckily, John was too busy finding the next job to care about Dean's arrival, and soon got swept up into planning when he'd be by to pick up Sam.
So the blood of the damned was the way to kill this thing. And according to Dad, it wasn't metaphorical. Only the blood of a soul that had been to hell and back. Between he and Sam, it wasn't in short supply. Still regretting his attack on his kid brother, Dean opted to wait for Sam and Jody to get back before sharing the update.
( ) ( ) ( )
"So the blood of the damned? You think any weapon dipped in our blood?" Sam seemed to have forgiven Dean's earlier outburst and was relieved that they'd made some much-needed progress on the case.
"H'ts w'at I w-would b'et 'on." It's what I would bet on.
"You boys realize how absurd this is, right? That in order to kill this thing you need the blood of someone who's been to hell and both of you fit the bill…" Jody's eyebrows raised in shock but she shook her head humorously. "You two need a vacation."
"Well...I guess Jody and I'll head out and see if we can't find the cave." Sam stood to begin packing, but Dean protested.
"W'woh 'M c'min. N't g'nna l've y'ou t'wo t' f'gure it 't 'n y'our 'wn." Woah. C'mon. I'm not gonna leave you two to figure it out on your own.
"There's nothing left to figure out, Dean. You remembered how to kill it, it'll be a piece of cake."
"F'mous l'st w'rds." Famous last words.
"I thought we talked about this-"
"W' t'lked 'out it? L'ke 'm a l'ttle k'id y'ou l'ct'red?" We 'talked about it'? Like I'm a little kid you lectured?
"That's not how I mean it, Dean. You know that. Stop fighting me all the time." Sam's voice rose in pitch and grew in strength. Dean met him at the same level and fired back.
"M' not f'ghting you, S'm! I'ss w'nna f'eel'lke 'm w'rth s'min." I'm not fighting you, Sam! I just wanna feel like I'm worth something.
Silence hung, and Jody didn't know whether to stay put, or to try to step away to let them have a moment. She opted for remaining still until the conversation either cleared up, or developed into more of an argument. In truth, she'd been surprised as to how well they'd been getting along. With stakes this high, she would imagine fights like this to happen all the time. She was thoroughly impressed that this was the worst spat she'd seen them have.
"Dean-" Sam began a speech in a pacifying tone, but Dean wasn't letting the moment continue.
"F'rget 't." Forget it.
Sam accepted his brother's dismissal and went back to packing what little stuff they'd brought to Jody's. The sheriff made an effort to appear busy but in a spare moment, pulled Sam aside into another room.
"I'm not trying to butt in. This is your burden and I'm not trying to tell you how to carry it. But do you think that...is there any way Dean could-" Jody had difficulty finding the words to finish her sentence but Sam was able to do it for her.
"Could hunt? Jody I…" Sam's shoulders slumped. "I want him there. I want him there more than anything. For him to be able to run and fight and drive and yell at me… but I think about that day-that day that I just watched him drop to the floor. And the days that he couldn't get out of bed, and the day that he realized he wasn't gonna drive again...the times when he apologized to me, the times he smiled instead of screaming, the pain he keeps from me, the words he can't say. I can't run away from those memories. I spend every day trying to make sure those things don't keep happening. And this hunt-Dean out there-I'm terrified of what might happen. What new memory I'll spend years running from. But his face, Jody…he's desperate. What am I supposed to do?"
Jody had nothing to say. Nothing that could make this better. She simply held out her arms and invited the much larger man into her embrace. The connection was short, but provided the love and support that was needed.
"Y'ou t'wo n'eed t' h'rry 'p w'ith th' t'chy, f'ee-y th'rpy s'sson 'm s'rre y'r h'vin 'and g'et a-mmove 'on." You two need to hurry up with the touchy feely therapy session I'm sure you're having and get a move on.
Dean shouted from the other room and Sam pulled away from Jody, grinning.
"Get your crap, Dean. We're leaving in five."
( ) ( ) ( )
Jody drove in one direction, the boys in another. They were both searching for any signs of the creature, the cave, or the enchantment. They'd agreed though, at the slightest sign of anything, they would wait for the other to arrive. They should have known better than to believe that any of the three hunters would be able to exercise patience. Sam was parking the Impala and heading towards a loud sound in the woods before Dean was able to even reach his door handle.
"S'm w' h'll 're you d'ing?" Sam, what the hell are you doing?
"I'm just looking around, Dean. I can handle myself, you know."
"Y' th f'ct 'at you s'ay th'at is the c'nc'rning p'rt. W'ld you 'st w-wait for J'dy?" Yeah the fact that you say that is the concerning part. Would you just wait for Jody?
Rather than answer his brother, Sam climbed out of the car, and headed towards the woods with his silver knife in hand. Dean was beyond irritated but the sooner they found a clue to the location, the sooner they could call Jody and close the case. Dean had lost his eye-line on Sam which only meant that Sam was trying to do this on his own. Dean wouldn't have that. Opening his door haphazardly, Dean called out to Sam.
"A'ny'hing?"
Silence.
"S'M?"
Silence.
"D'm'nit." As Dean pushed his door open with his good shoulder, Sam hollered surprised and panicked.
"HERE, DEAN. IT"S HE-"
Sam's sentence was cut short by a wolf-like wail. Before Dean could call out, to assure Sam that he was coming, he felt a wave of numbness flood him. He saw the pavement growing nearner before him as his body tensed and he fell from the car….Sam's shouts still echoing in his ears.
( ) ( ) ( )
Dean came out of his seizure, for the first time in nearly six months, alone. Blackness was descending around him, but he wasn't entirely sure if the sun was setting, or if his mind was still adjusting to consciousness. He blinked and looked for a face-Sam's face-but he was certain he was alone. His gut told him something was wrong-something very bad. But his logical mind hadn't recovered enough to tell him what that thing was. Instead, the only clear, resonating message processing, was pain. The back of his head stung, as did his left ear. He felt a pulsing heat there, but no sensation of hot liquid. His bad knee was throbbing so badly he was sure if he looked down, he would see the skin pulsating from the contracting muscle underneath. His entire leg was twisted with taught muscles, and his foot was turned at a bit of an odd angle. The shoulder of his hooked arm was hurting in a way he couldn't immediately describe. Something between tingling and burning...of numbness and torness. Despite the physical pain, though, Dean was most concerned with the need to clear his mind of fog and remember what had caused his feelings of worry and panic. Looking around, he tried to piece together the events from before his seizure. Slowly, the memories came back to him; soon he was staring off to the forest, desperate to get to his brother.
Kicking into high-gear, Dean ignored the injuries that the violent fit had caused, and began forcing his uncooperative body to listen to his commands. He knew he had little hope of standing from his current position-he had no support, no way to balance-no chance. Instincts taking over, Dean found that years of muscle memory were truly paying off as his body began willing itself to find a way to stand. Rolling onto his side, Dean then flipped entirely to his belly, causing his shoulder to be badly pinched. Moving his good knee towards his chest, he was attempting to get into a position from which he could at least kneel. One leg under his chest, nearly his entire body weight was now resting on his throbbing shoulder-a shoulder already weakened from months of non-use. As he brought his second leg towards his chest, Dean felt his fragile shoulder buckle under the weight; it made a noise somewhere between a click and a pop.
"F-F'CK" Dean let out a pained and exasperated sound along with the expliative but still continued using his good arm to yank the injured leg upwards.
Everything hurt.
Unwilling to break his stride, though, Dean used his one good arm to push away from the asphalt. His arm gave out for a moment-the muscle resisting the pressure. Dean felt the echoes of Michael's banging, the impression of Michael's dominance. The memory of the archangel was encouraging him to give up. To fall. To submit. He whispered under his breath-assuring himself that he was capable-he was strong-he could save Sam. No. He would save Sam.
"C'mn. C'm'on. Mi-H'es g'ne. J'st you. All y'ou." C'mon. C'mon. Mic-He's gone. Just you. All you.
Clunkily moving to a kneel, and then a fully upright position, Dean had no time to be prideful. Reaching for his jacket pocket, he pulled his phone out only to discover that it had been cracked, most likely in his fall from the car. He still had options. Cas, for one. Extending an urgent prayer, Dean waited. No angel arrived. Unable and unwilling to wait longer, Dean clumsily made his way to where he'd heard Sam's cries. He moved impossibly slowly-knowing he'd be unable to stand again if he should fall. No signs of the creature or Sam were present, and as a result, Dean's adrenaline was quickly rising.
"S'MMY?"
Once again, he was met with a sickening silence. Stepping a bit to his left, he saw a shimmer out of the corner of his eye. It was Sam's silver knife. The object was at least 200 yards away and surrounded by brush. Dean knew he'd never get to it without stumbling, not when his leg was already vibrating. Even if he could, there was no telling how far Sam had been taken. As Dean saw it, he had one option.
He had to drive.
Despite the number of times he'd dreamt of driving Baby once again, he was terrified at the prospect. Still, it was certainly less terrifying than having lost Sam. Stumbling significantly, it took Dean five minutes to get back to the road-a trip that once may have taken him ninety seconds. Dean didn't leave room for self-pity, though; pity wasn't helping Sam. Walking to the driver's side door, Dean felt like a ghost-one foot in an alternate reality, one foot in this one. Suppressing his consciousness, Dean buried his emotions as he'd practiced for so many years and focused on accomplishing the physical tasks. With the door open, he knew he couldn't bear his weight on one leg in order to climb into the car. Instead, he turned his back to the door opening and simply fell backwards onto the bench seat. Baby received him faultlessly, offering him her sanctuary. Wrestling with his disobedient muscles, Dean labored to become situated in the driver's seat. A small miracle made his life easier: Sam had left the keys in the ignition. As Baby vibrated to life underneath him, Dean wished that he could enjoy the sensation without being drenched in worry for his brother. Putting all selfish feelings aside, Dean tried to simply carry out the mechanical actions of driving. His left leg was shot to hell, and lay useless in the footwell. His shoulder burned and grinded and creaked with every shift of his torso. His head ached. His heart pounded. But none of it mattered; his body was nothing but a vessel (god, he hated that word, but it was true) for getting Sam back. Sam. The brother who deserved the world-no, more than the world had to offer. The man that Dean wanted to be; the man who never let attention fall on himself, the man that stopped living after Dean's possession. The man who Dean would save.
Grinding his teeth together to stifle a sound of pain, Dean put the Impala in drive, and went searching for the little brother he'd do anything to get back.
( ) ( ) ( )
Only a mile down the road, Dean stopped the car. He had no reasoning behind believing the cave to be near, but he felt it. Dean had trouble trusting his mind nowadays; so many tricks it could pull, so much pain it could generate. But his gut? That was still his-that was something he still trusted. If his gut was telling him that Sam was just around that tree-line, then by heaven, hell, and earth, he knew Sam was there. Getting out of the car was a pathetic display of coordination and skill, but he was still standing. Moving first to the trunk, he popped it and dug for another silver knife; if it was good enough for Sam to carry, it was good enough for him. Echoing in his ears was the way to kill the Adlet… blood of the damned…
"F'g'rs." Figures
Dean only had so many options for getting the blade wet with his blood. He'd normally have sliced his palm or forearm, but that was made difficult by his unresponsive limb. Not having another obvious choice, Dean dangerously brought the knife up towards his fisted hand, not far from his neck. Slipping the tip of the blade in between his palm and his clenched fingers, he felt the familiar stinging of carved flesh and pulled back to see that the knife was covered in a thin layer of blood. He hoped it was enough. Carefully stepping into the forest, he moved committedly. A few yards into the woods, he began to see the formation of a rock ahead. As he continued approaching, he couldn't bother thinking about a plan of attack or a contingency...all his mental and physical effort was put into walking and observing his surroundings. As the cave became closer, Dean realized that if the Adlet was inside, if this came to a fight, the only thing he could hope to do would be to distract it long enough for Sam to escape, or catch it off-guard long enough to land a fatal blow. He wouldn't last hand-to-hand. Strangely, it didn't bother him; only Sam's grief over his death gave him pause. So he would try to stay alive, he would. But his hopes were low.
Entering, the cave seemed quiet and dark-only a few quiet scurries, only a slight sense of foreboding. Hugging the wall, he practically scraped along the cave's edges in an effort to support himself. His functional hand-the one gripping the knife-was clenched around the weapon almost as hard as the ruined one was. Pausing for a moment, Dean made out a faint noise though he had no idea from where or how far away it was coming. It seemed to be rhythmic breathing; from the creature, Sam, or something else, Dean had no idea. Pressing forward, Dean attempted to make as little noise as possible. Only able to be so quiet though, his limp leg was beginning to loudly drag along the ground, pulling leaves and dislodging stones. Having no other option, he pressed forward, squinting in an attempt to adjust to his lessening visibility. Hearing a new sound, Dean paused again. This time, rather than breathing, it sounded like tapping. It wasn't a constant, predictable pattern, though. It was bursts of short, rapid beats, and slow, lengthy gaps. Code. It was Morse Code. He struggled to recognize the patterns; he hadn't used it in so long. Of course Sam would remember. Of course. Dean was flooded with relief that his brother was alive, kicking, and still nerdy as ever. Pulling out random letters from the tapping and scraping, Dean struggled to find meaning. D, N, T… S, P, K? Sam, what the hell are you saying? Dean's relief quickly turned to impatience and concern as he tried to decipher the message. Oh my god is this what it's like to talk to me? This is exhausting. Dean concentrated and picked up a few more letters. F, L, L, W, S… V, C, S…? Dean closed his eyes, listened to the repeating patterns and tried to breathe deeply. Just think, Dean. Sam needs you. You know this. It's just you. All you. C'mon. He began to put meaning to the sounds. D, ?, N, T Don't S, P, E, ?, K Speak.
Don't speak! Okay, good. Move on. Next phrase.
F, ?, L, L, ?, W, S Follows V, ?, ?, C, ?, S. ?
Think, damnit. V _, _, C, _, ?, _, S. Okay, you're trying to say this word. What the hell is it? Multiple vowels always get garbled-they all bleed together. Lots of vowels together, Sam's using Morse Code, that's kind of a clue in itself...
Dean continued his silent narrative of thought until it finally clicked.
Voices.
Don't speak. Follows voices.
I got it, Sam.
Dean brought the butt of his weapon to the rock wall and began tapping out his own response as best he could.
Dot, dot, dot, dot
H
Dot
E
Dot, dash, dot
R
Dot
E
Dean heard Sam's message pause and repeated his own. After another pause, Dean waited to hear Sam's new message. More than ever, he was thankful for Sam's commitment to dorkdom, and impressed with his ability to MacGyver the hell out of everything.
A series of dots and dashes came through twice before Dean was able to put it together.
KNIFE
Dean implied that the message should have come with a question mark, and so he simply replied with one letter. Y.
Awaiting another response was safest, but apparently not what fate had in mind. From the entrance of the cave, Dean heard approaching footsteps; claws on stone. He attempted to walk towards the area in which he heard Sam's taps emanating, but the low light made it impossible to navigate. Running out of time, Dean made a very, very, very, haste decision. He laid himself down on the ground. If the creature found him, while it was bent to attack him, he might have a chance at stabbing it. If he'd been standing, wobbly and uneven, it would be too easy for the Adlet to capture him; if he was oddly positioned on the ground, he hoped it would give him the millisecond he needed to land a blow. The logic was scarcely there, but it was all he had. Lying prone on the ground, Dean was reminded of all the times he'd woken like this: on the ground, and scared out of his mind. Somehow, though, it was also comforting. As the approaching sound grew louder, Dean lay in wait. He hardly breathed, too nervous to move. He hadn't hunted in so long-what if he was rusty? What if this was where it truly would end? His existential questioning was cut short by the sound of Sam's voice emanating through the cavern.
"DEAN!" The younger boy couldn't help but break his silence. He heard the Adlet approaching just as Dean did, but Sam knew nothing of Dean's condition. Was someone with him? Was he hurt? Likewise, he knew that Dean was most likely frantic with worry over Sam's condition. Dean had no idea if he was tied up, trapped, injured… They were both working on so little information. Sam, knowing what he did, made a judgement call; he would lure the Adlet to himself. He was tied up along with the missing victims but he was the only one conscious. His shoulder had been hurt in the initial fight with the creature, but nothing too serious; Jody could patch him up later. At the sound of his voice, the Adlet paused just above Dean-hovering. Knowing it would be his one and only decent shot, Dean blindly lashed out. He made a broad, aggressive swipe towards the sound of the creature's breathing and felt immediate resistance. The creature howled and Dean attempted to roll away from his immediate positioning.
"DEAN! STOP!" Sam knew his brother had engaged in a fight-a fight he was concerned Dean couldn't win. Struggling against the knots that held him down, Sam felt the joints in his wrist straining against the pressure he was inducing.
Meanwhile, Dean had rolled a few feet to the right, and could sense, even in the dark, that the Adlet was searching for him-ignoring Sam's voice. Clearly needing to land a better blow, Dean feverishly cut himself again with the blade, making a long gash on his hooked arm. Before he could process much of anything, his instincts were taking over, and he felt the wolf's feet by his side. Twisting over himself, he lurched out to strike. The blade landed solidly; right into the calf of the Adlet's leg. The monster howled once again, flailing in vain as it collapsed beside Dean, dead. Dean still couldn't see hardly anything, but that didn't stop him from turning his head arbitrarily, attempting to find any sign of Sam.
"S'mmy! S'mmy y'u 'hare?" Sammy? Sammy, you there?
"Dean-thank god. Did you kill it?" Sam didn't have time to comprehend the situation, he was too focused on the facts.
"'Ss d'ead. Y'u h'rt?" It's dead. You hurt?
"I'm fine, I'm just tied up. Think I dislocated my wrist. All the victims are with me. Is Jody with you? Are you okay?"
"J'ss me." Just me
Again, neither brother was comprehending anything other than the base information they were exchanging; no time to process what the words meant.
"C'nt s. K'p t'l'k'n. F'd y."
There it was. He knew his speech was slowing. Dean knew that his fatigue would kick in at some point, and clearly his adreleanine was already fading. He tried again.
"K'p t'lkn." Keep talking
Marginally better. He would take what he could get.
"I'm in a corner...there are at least four people tied up here too. They're unconscious but I think they're all alive. I was stupid to run off, I thought I could take care of it." Sam heard an odd dragging sound and his ears pricked up in worry. "Are you ok? Dean?"
"C'mn." Coming
"Dean, what happened? Are you hurt? Why the hell didn't you call Jody?"
Dean had no choice but to crawl to Sam, slow and cumbersome as it may be. His body was slowing down; muscles shot, nerves in overdrive, and adrenaline waning. All he could do was continue moving to Sam's voice. He wouldn't let his brother worry over him-not until he knew Sam was safe and taken care of. Maybe not even then. Sam deserved the attention, the care; he deserved to be looked after and waited on. So Dean ignored his pain and kept on moving.
"C'r'kdd f'ne" Cracked (my) phone
Sam, hearing the struggle in Dean's voice, didn't believe that was remotely close to the full story.
"Dean, I'm freaking out, man. What happened to you?"
Dean heard Sam's voice coming just a hair to the left and adjusted his course.
"S'zzd n'f'll'rm c'r."
Sam struggled to understand.
"You seized from the car?"
"F'll." Fell
"You FELL out of the car? Jesus Christ, Dean."
Sam's voice began to hiccup as the events of the evening began to make sense in his mind; what the hell had happened? The case was moving as slow as dirt until suddenly he was chasing a noise in the forest, being taken down by a large humanoid wolf...Dean was left alone, seizing in the car and apparently falling out of the car. Then he'd somehow managed to find his way to Sam, and kill the creature with one arm, in the pitch blackness. Sam had three fully coherent words going through his head: What the fuck.
Before Sam could process anything more, he heard Dean's approach.
"I'm over here. Be careful, the other victims are all around me. We're tied together."
Dean finally reached Sam and held out his good hand to feel for his brother. With Sam's ankle in his palm, a wild rush of calm and peace began combating Dean's fiery, anxious nerves.
Sam was here.
Right here.
He was safe.
They could deal with anything else.
"Y'r t'll, d'mb, st'p'd 'd'ot. Y' 'ow 'at?" You're a tall, dumb, stupid idiot. You know that?
"And you're a rash, crazy, stubborn-ass."
Sam felt the silver blade maneuver between the ropes as Dean tried his best to free Sam and the others.
"S'r yr k?" Sure you're ok?
"Let's please just get the hell outta here. We need to get these victims safe, we need to get you back to Jody's- or to a friggin hospital."
"S'mm. L'm' 't'kare vv yu. Sam. Let me take care of you
"Dean. Let's just take care of each other, okay? We both deserve that."
Sam pulled his working phone from his pocket and handed it to Dean. With the added light, they untied the rest of the victims and called Jody. Sam gave hardly any explanation but Jody knew not to push. She was bringing ambulances and a few black-and-whites; nothing that would require too much explanation. She assured them she had it covered-something figured out-and both men were too exhausted to concern themselves with the details. Remaining in the cave, they sat in silence for a moment-both of them processing the insane events. Even for them, this had been an extraordinarily eventful day. Verbalizing this fact for the first time-the first time when it could have true, contextual meaning-Sam spoke quietly and pridefully.
"Dean. You-you killed it. You killed the Adlet."
"S'ved y'r sss t'oo." Saved your ass too.
"Dean... this is-I mean-this is huge. I-" Sam was dumbstruck. Unable to respond. Sam was feeling a kind of hope that felt so good, he was sure it was a drug-a synthetic substance that wouldn't last. "We have to-I mean we can...you can… we have so much to talk about. How did-and you're hurt so we'll have to wait but…" Overwhelmed, Sam descended into ramblings that Dean interrupted.
"S'am, let's j-just go home."
"Of course, we can-"
It took them both a moment to realize.
"Dean?" Sam asked.
"S-sam?" Came his response.
"Did-"
Dean laughed. A huge, boisterous, giddy laugh. It echoed through the entire cave.
"S-son. Of. A. B-bitch."
Sam couldn't stop himself from reaching out and grabbing Dean; both their injuries long-since ignored.
"L-let's go h-home, S'ammy."
( ) ( ) ( )
A/N: If you like this as an ending, great! If you're wanting more, luckily I am too. Next chapter will be lots of emotional processing, recovery, and heading back to the Bunker. Something in Dean is clearly changing-what else does that mean?