24 Hours Earlier
The brothers saw their captors only once the following day, when they were given food and water. Wary of being drugged, they nevertheless recognized the need to have energy to fight so ate all that was provided. That evening the same men came again, taking Dean this time and leaving Sam to pace as best he could with the chain dragging him back a step whenever he tried to go too far. He chewed at his nails, offering a silent apology to Dean as he acknowledged the mental torture he must have gone through during his wait the previous night. He honestly wasn't sure if it would have been worse not knowing what was happening or not. It was definitely torture…he was confident in his brother's skills, but still worried over the outcome.
Sam rose quickly when he finally heard the footsteps of men returning, and he was immediately concerned when he saw Dean being supported by another unknown man into his cell. Dean dropped unceremoniously to the ground when the man let go, groaning but making no attempt to avoid the chain being reattached to the hated collar.
"Dean!" Sam called as soon as the men left. "Are you ok? What happened?"
"I won." Dean said dryly, spitting a gob of blood on the floor and dragging himself over to lean up against the cinder blocks. Sam was able to get a better look at him once he sat up, and was horrified.
"Dean, those are knife wounds. What the hell - ?" He stared at the bloody lines slicing through his brother's shirt on his torso and arms, noticing a particularly nasty cut on his bicep that was still bleeding. "Those cuts need to be treated." Straining to see down the corridor and cursing the restraints that held him back, Sam hollered loudly, "Hey, someone? We need some help here!"
"Shaddup." Dean muttered, trying and failing to tear a piece of his shirt off so he could tie it over the wound. Sam ignored him, calling out repeatedly until finally Mustache Man and Redhead came to investigate, smacking the bars with annoyance.
"What the hell you yelling for?" Mustache Man grumbled.
"My brother needs medical treatment." Sam implored him.
"Thought you hated the guy." Redhead questioned.
"So?" Sam thought quickly, finding it increasingly hard to play the roles they had chosen in light of his brother's injuries. "He's still my brother." he finally replied gruffly, "whether I like him or not."
"Whaddya think Vince?" Redhead asked, looking askance at Dean.
"He's fine. He'll live. Now shut the hell up." Mustache Man (Vince apparently) ordered as he turned and walked away. Redhead shrugged and made to follow, but halted and turned back at Sam's soft plea of "please," all pretense dropped even as Dean growled an unspoken warning. Vince called over his shoulder but kept walking, "Toby, stop being a bleeding heart and c'mon."
"Please man, let me help him. Please." Sam begged. Dean shot him another warning look, but he continued to ignore him, eyes focused on his captor's retreating back.
Toby turned finally and wandered back to stare through the bars at Sam, his face unreadable. "Why should I?" he finally asked.
"If he isn't patched up, he won't be able to fight tomorrow. Thought you wanted a brother's prize fight." Sam reasoned, "There's no way I'm going to fight him if he can't even fight back. Look at him, bleeding all over the place." he scoffed, trying to sound indifferent. "Let me patch him up, and you'll get your fight." Toby looked back and forth between the brothers, contemplating, and then without another word took off down the hall.
"Damn it!" spat Sam, whirling and smacking the wall with open palms then leaning heavily on his outstretched arms, head down, chest heaving in frustration.
"Sam." Dean said calmly, trying to focus his wavering gaze on his frustrated brother. "I'll be fine."
Sam looked over at his brother, his face conveying all his discouragement and sorrow at being unable to help. Suddenly their attention was captured by the sound of footsteps once more. A moment later Toby came back into view carrying a first aid kit. Setting it down he walked up to Sam's cell, waving his taser menacingly.
"I will tase you till your brains fry if you try anything." he threatened, making the weapon zap and buzz. Sam nodded solemnly, holding his hands out to show he was willing to comply. Toby glanced covertly down the hallway, and then unlocked the cage and walked toward Sam. Sam held his hands away, bending and turning to give unfettered access to the lock on the collar chain. Once freed, Toby indicated that he should pick up the first aid kit and move over to Dean's cell. He unlocked the cell long enough for Sam to enter, and then quickly relocked it.
Sam didn't spare any more thought for the man, his focus immediately held by Dean and his wounds. Dropping to his knees, he exchanged a long penetrating look with his brother before gently beginning to check him over. He was relieved to find that most of the bruising and cuts were superficial, only the deep slice to the bicep needing stitches. Working quickly and efficiently, he asked off-handedly, "So your opponent brought a knife to a fist fight?"
"They tossed knives in the arena after we had sufficiently beaten each other up." Dean replied quietly. Sam stared at his brother, processing. Dean met his eyes steadily, answering without words what happened to his opponent. Sam gripped his shoulder in silent commiseration, and then continued to treat his wounds.
"Hurry up there." admonished Toby, starting to look antsy the longer Sam was with Dean. Sam finished wrapping the stitched cut and then gave Dean another look. I can take him. Dean shook his head no, warning him not to act on the idea in his head. Don't do it Sam, it'll end badly. They argued silently, but when Toby banged the bars again Sam nodded in reluctant agreement, slowly standing up and bringing the kit back to the door. Toby regarded him suspiciously, but Sam again showed no signs of acting out, so he quickly returned him to his cell, locking him back up, and then took the first aid kit and turned to walk away.
"Thank you." Sam said softly. Toby gave him one more puzzled, penetrating stare, and then he was gone. Sighing, Sam resigned himself to another mind-numbing night and day, settling back against the wall and trying in vain to get comfortable as he watched over Dean, who had curled up exhausted on the floor and was asleep.