Summary: Pre-9x17, "Mother's Little Helper" – Hurt Sam / Big Brother Dean / Sassy Abaddon – "I have something you don't have..." Abaddon singsonged over the phone, her voice eerily quiet as she taunted him. Dean froze, feeling dread crawl up his spine and suddenly wishing he knew where Sam was.

Disclaimer: Not mine...though if they were, there would be hurt/comfort in every episode and a lot more Big Brother Dean.

Warnings: Spoilers for Season Nine and usual language

A/N: Inspired by the promo clip and the sneak peek for 9x17...along with this lingering fear that nothing good can come of Abaddon being alone with Sam.

Cat and mouse – the act of toying with or tormenting something before destroying it.

He didn't recognize the number...but he instantly recognized her voice.

"Rumor has it that you're chasing me."

Dean arched an eyebrow at the claim. "Chasing you?" he repeated, his sharp tone reflecting the darkness that had begun to settle within him over the past few days. "Bitch, I don't even chase my liquor."

Abaddon hummed a laugh, sounding genuinely delighted by his comeback.

"Wow, Dean. You sure know how to break a girl's heart."

Dean rolled his eyes, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he scanned the bar.

"What do you want, Abaddon? I'm kinda in the middle of something."

"Oh, yes..." the demon agreed. "Brooding and feeling sorry for yourself does take a lot of time.

Dean glared, his grip tightening around the phone. "What. Do you. Want?"

Abaddon quirked a smile, always satisfied when she could make Dean growl at her.

"I want to play," she replied, sounding like a pouty, neglected child. "It's been so long since we've played together, Dean. I miss you."

Dean snorted. "Well, I don't miss you. And I'm not playing with you, bitch. The next time I see you, I will kill you."

"You'll try," Abaddon corrected, cool and collected and not concerned. "And while that sounds fun, that's not the game I had in mind. I was thinking something a little more cat-and-mouse. And I think I have just the thing to motivate you..."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Abaddon sighed like a woman annoyed by a clueless man. "It means if you're not chasing me now, you will be soon."

Dean swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, savoring its familiar bite as he circled the pool table and eyed his next shot.

"Yeah?" he drawled, really not in the mood for this bullshit – especially after his earlier encounter with Crowley.


"And why's that?" Dean asked, setting his glass on the edge of the table and reaching for the pool stick he had propped against the wall when his phone had rung seconds before.

Abaddon paused, turning to stare at what Dean couldn't see. "Because I have something you don't have..." she singsonged into the big brother's ear, her voice eerily quiet as she taunted him.

She waited, knowing Dean would realize without further explanation.

And he did.

Dean froze mid-reach, feeling dread crawl up his spine and suddenly wishing he knew where Sam was.

"I think we both know where he is," Abaddon replied about the location of Dean's little brother as if she could read Dean's thoughts. "He's with me. In fact, I'm looking at him right now."

She paused, watching Sam blink up at her through the blood that covered his face.

"Although I must admit..." Abaddon confessed into the phone. "I wasn't sure if you'd notice he was missing or even care since I hear the two of you are on the outs. Is that true?"

Dean ignored the demon's question.

Because yeah...him and Sam had been in a rough spot for the past few months – but that didn't mean that Dean didn't still worry about the kid; didn't still love him; didn't still want to protect Sam and kill anything that dared to touch him.

Dean clenched his jaw as rage surged through him at the thought of Abaddon having his little brother; his system instantly flooded with the kind of all-consuming rage that apparently came with the mark branded in his forearm.

"Abaddon, I swear to god...if you hurt him – "

" – you'll what?" the demon interrupted, a smile in her voice. "C'mon, baby. Talk dirty to me. Tell me what you're gonna do. Because I'll let you in on a little secret – I've already hurt him. Sam's blood is all over my hands and all over this floor. In fact, I think I'll paint with it later."

She laughed, enjoying this.

"So tell me, tough guy. What are you gonna do about it?"

"I'm gonna fucking kill you," Dean growled, barely able to speak over the rage that burned through him as he ignored the sideways glances from other bar patrons and focused on one thing – this bitch who had his little brother, who had hurt his little brother.

Abaddon laughed again at the empty threat. "No, you won't," she countered about Dean killing her. "You can't do anything to me without the Blade. And last I heard, the Blade isn't with you. It's with Crowley."

Dean said nothing, his hand fisting by his side; his jaw beginning to ache from the force of grinding his teeth; his ear sore from how hard he was pressing the phone against it.

Abaddon sighed, getting down to business.

"So, big brother, here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna track down Crowley and get that Blade. And then you and me are gonna make an exchange – that ugly old thing for your precious little Sammy."

She paused.

"It's a good deal. I suggest you take it."

She paused again.

"And if you're thinking you'll somehow kill me first and then get Sam, then I would suggest you rethink that plan. After all, you wouldn't want things to get...messy. Not with Sam in the middle..."

Dean felt his pulse throb in his temples, his body buzzing with adrenaline...and with whatever effect the Mark of Cain was having on him these days.

"I wanna talk to Sam."

Abaddon scoffed at the demand. "Why? From what I hear, the two of you barely speak these days. Now suddenly it's important that you talk to him?"

She shook her head.

"No. Request denied. Besides, Sam isn't exactly in a chatty mood right now. It's difficult to focus on conversation when you're bleeding profusely. Right, Sammy?"

"Don't call him that!" Dean snapped and then frowned; his heart hammering in his chest as he heard Sam gasp in the background – a wet, gurgling sound as though the kid was choking on his own blood.

And that was it.

Dean was going to fucking lose it.

"What did you do to him?" he yelled, not giving a shit that everyone in the bar was now staring at him. "What the fuck did you do?"

"Nothing compared to what I will do to him if you don't bring me that Blade," Abaddon barked in return. "Sam only thinks he knows what torture is like since he endured whatever Lucifer did to him in the Cage. But the things little Lucy did in his playpen are child's play compared to what I have planned for your brother if you don't bring me what I want."

Dean could feel his entire body shaking, the mark on his arm growing hot even though he wasn't holding the Blade.

"You have until morning," Abaddon told him about the deadline for meeting her demand. "But I wouldn't wait that long. We wouldn't want Sam to bleed would we?"

She smiled, rubbing Sam's blood between her fingers.

Dean didn't move, frozen by the overwhelming urge to kill something – preferably the bitch on the other end of the line.

Abaddon's smile widened. "Call me back at this number when you have the Blade, then I'll tell you our location. And remember, big brother...tick-tock."