Once again I am sososososososososososososososo sorry for being such a terrible person and waiting this long to UD, but I've just gotten annoyingly picky on fanfics the last few months. Ok so here it is, the V For Voodoo finale! \o/ Hope it satisfies ya'll as a final chapter and hope it quenches all those Hurt! Protective!Winchester fanatic's hungers out there as well ; ) Let me know.


Dirt picked up in clouds off of the faded dirt road. Sam had seen and turned sharply at the broken down and weed covered sign marked Clearview Road a couple miles back. The road merged with the trees it was running parallel with after awhile and the Impala turned down a path cutting through the thick forest. Sam squinted around into the crushing darkness surrounding him. The car's lights were the only source of illumination as they cast fanned out bands on the road in front of him.

Sam was sure that no one probably even knew that this road even existed anymore. It was narrow and grown over by weeds and long grass. Two rows of tire tracks were the only indication that it had even been used lately. Sam's eyes darted around, seeing little more than the wide tree trunks on either side of the car. "This woman sure enjoys her privacy...either that or she just picked some place where no one would hear the screams." Sam thought angrily. He narrowly missed hitting a deer as it pranced across the road.

It couldn't be that much further, could it? Sam was beginning to worry he had started in the wrong direction when he spotted the faint glow of spot lights far off through the trees. His heart swelled in his chest as a glimmer of hope bloomed within him.

"Almost there." Sam mumbled, as if Dean might some how hear him.

The road opened up in front of a shabby looking house. Sam sharply braked the Impala and turned off the ignition. Throwing the door open, he leapt from the car nearly before the engine had time to die down. He ran up to the door and reached into his jacket, pulling out his favorite gun. Holding it in both hands with the barrel pointed upwards, Sam nudged the door with his foot. It creaked open on its rusted hinges and lightly bumped against the adjacent wall.

Sam stepped cautiously inside the house and looked around, sweeping his gun out front and moving it with his gaze. He turned in a slow circle, surveying the entry room carefully. The coast looked clear. No one, in fact, appeared to be home. Sam went from room to room, stepping as lightly as his tall frame allowed.

He came to a room at the far side of the house and saw through the window a silver Honda parked out back. Someone was there. Sam's stomach twisted; he didn't see any signs of Dean anywhere. He walked back to the main room and scanned around it once more. An orange strip of light at the bottom of a door caught his eye this time. Sam threw open the door. Stairs leading down to a basement stretched out before him. He headed down the steps, gun held down at an angle. As he stepped off the last stair, Sam lifted his aim back up and looked to the right, slowly moving his gaze around the dark room.

His eyes stopped on a form hanging in the shadows at the far side of the room. A flicker of fire-light cut through the darkness and momentarily illuminated the down-turned face of the figure. Sam's aim shook and then fell.

"Dean!" He ran over, stowing the gun back in the inner pocket of his jacket.

"Dean? Dean, wake up."

Sam put his hands gently on either side of Dean's neck, easing his head up. Dean's head lolled weakly against Sam's touch and his eyes remained closed. Sam saw the copious amount of dried blood on Dean's lips and chin; a few fresh drops slid from the corners of his mouth. Sam's vision came screaming back to him, spurring his anxiety and making him doubt weather or not Dean had lived in it.

"No...no come on, Dean..." Sam gently patted the side of Dean's face and then shook him strongly.

"Open your damn eyes, Dean!"

Sam's eyes welled a bit as anxiety started to take over. He pressed his fingers under Dean's jaw, feeling for a pulse. He pressed harder when he didn't feel anything. Come on, there had to be a-there! Sam felt a rhythm. It was weak, but still was there and drumming non-the-less.

A quiet noise parted Dean's lips. Sam waited, breath held momentarily in his chest, making sure he hadn't imagined it.


A grin of relief stretched across Sam's worried face. "Thank God."

Dean's eyes fluttered opened with what looked liked great difficultly. The whites of his eyes had turned bloodshot and it appeared that his focus was a bit off. Dean's gaze swept sleepily towards the ground then finally looked up at Sam. Dean let out a deep exhale as Sam's face swam into focus, a whisper of a smile curving at his mouth.

"Sammy..." He breathed out quietly.

Sam nodded and gave Dean's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. Dean sucked in a sharp breath and groaned, causing Sam to withdraw his grip quickly.

"Sorry, sorry."

Sam looked at the chain leading up from the bloodied shackles that held Dean's wrists. The chain looped around a hook on the ceiling and attached down to a loop on the wall. The latter proved problematic, but the chain at the ceiling looked easily detachable. Sam looked back at Dean.

"Hey, I'm gonna get you down, ok?"

Dean nodded weakly, resting his head against his arm and closing his eyes again. Sam put his arms around Dean's waist and lifted up. Dean tried to bite back a cry of pain as Sam constricted around his damaged body. Sam winced for his brother and lifted a little more, successfully unhooking the chain from the ceiling. Dean's shackled wrists fell heavily to his sides and his feet connected heavily with the ground again for the first time since...God, he couldn't even remember how long it had been.

Dean's knees buckled underneath him and he started to slump to the ground. Sam hooked his arms under Dean's shoulders, stopping his fall.

"Gotcha, I gotcha."

He eased Dean to a sitting position on the ground and leaned him back to rest against the wall. Dean's aching head rolled off the comfort of Sam's shoulder and back against the wall with a gentle thump. He wheezed out heavy breaths, almost every part of his body screaming out in agony. Sam kneeled next to him and picked up one of Dean's bound wrists. He inspected the cuff, grimacing at the raw, bloodied skin around the bottom of Dean's hands and on his wrists.


The irons required a key. Sam looked back up at his brother's pain-etched face.

"H-hey, talk to me. You ok?"

Dean inhaled slowly. "M'okay." He opened his scrunched eyes and immediately focused on something over Sam's shoulder. His gaze widened slightly.


The one word depicted a crystal clear warning of danger. Sam froze and looked slowly up at Dean. He discretely reached in his inner jacket pocket for his gun and spun around; on his feet and taking aim in a single, fluid movement. Charlotte hopped towards the fireplace and held a blood stained doll over the blaze of flames.

"Put the gun down or I'll drop it!"

Sam's eyes flicked to the doll, realizing with horror that the blood covering it must have been Dean's. He repositioned his fingers around the handle of the gun, mind working rapidly. If he hit Charlotte just right in her left shoulder, she would spin away from the fire, but that would still hold the risk of her dropping the Voodoo doll.

Charlotte lowered the doll closer to the flames.

"There'll be no saving him. He'll die screaming before you can do anything about it."

A flamed licked the doll, causing the fabric to singe and smoke a little. Dean sucked in a groan, forcing Sam's attention back to him.

"No, no don't!" Sam's eyes darted rapidly between Dean and Charlotte. He put his hands up and let the trigger guard hang loose around his index finger.

"Just take it easy, alright?"

"Put it down!" Charlotte demanded again.

The gun swung gently around Sam's finger and he glared at the woman. "You'll drop it if I do."

Charlotte cocked her head to the side and smirked fiendishly. "I'll throw it if you don't."

Sam's jaw clenched as he swallowed hard, his heart racing. He heard Dean say something to him from his place on the floor, barely audible.

"Do it."

Sam turned his head towards Dean, keeping his eyes on Charlotte until the last second. Dean looked up at him, face wary and riddled with pain, but set with confidence. Sam knew instantly that Dean's words were not an encouragement of surrender. Dean nodded slowly up at him and Sam knew they had both had the same course of action in mind. He locked eyes with his brother, making sure Dean was sure about this.

In a split second, Sam flipped the gun back into his grip and pulled the trigger. The blast echoed about the room and Charlotte spun against the force of a bullet hitting her shoulder. She fell to the ground, the doll still in her clutch. Sam ran forward and grabbed Charlotte's wrist just before she could draw back her arm to throw the doll into the midst of the flames. Sam wrenched it from her hand and threw it safely out of reach across the room.

Infuriated, Charlotte kneed Sam violently in the crotch. The hit was enough to cause Sam to recoil and give Charlotte time to gain the advantage. She brought her foot up and planted it firmly into Sam's chest, throwing him back to the floor.

The gun clattered from Sam's grasp as he tried to win back the air-flow temporarily stolen from his lungs. Charlotte had gotten to her feet and walked to stand over him. She pushed her stiletto down hard into the upward facing flesh of Sam's palm. Sam screamed out as he felt the heel crush through tendons and tissue. Charlotte kicked the gun out of Sam's reach and sent it skittering across the floor. She withdrew her heal with one last violent twist and kicked Sam in the side of the head.

Dean's yells of fury and life threatening curses refused to raise themselves to little more than a hoarse cry. He tried to get to his feet, but only fell weakly back to his knees, the chains weighing heavily on his tired and tortured muscles. He tugged angrily at his bonds but had no success in getting free to protect Sam.

Dark stars danced before Sam's vision as he lay back on the ground, hand held to his throbbing head. He felt something warm trickle down his cheek and he rolled onto his stomach. Sam spotted and started towards the gun lying on the ground a good ten feet away.


Sam looked up at Dean's harsh yell to see his brother's panicked expression. The reason of his brother's cry of warning was quickly revealed to Sam when pain vibrated up his spine. He arched up against the pain that he recognized from his visions, his eyes clamped tightly shut. Sam couldn't even cry out, he just gasped sharply at the five inches of thin steel that was currently embedded in his back.

Charlotte pulled the pin out and smirked at the blood that covered it. Her eyes flicked tauntingly to Dean who could only stare angrily back at her and tug more violently at his chains.

"No!" Dean choked out angrily as cold realization spread throughout him.

Charlotte turned on her heel and walked over to the locked chest again. Sam pushed off the ground with shaky arms, only to fall right back down with a groan. Charlotte had managed to stab exactly where Jake had a few months earlier; the wound had never fully healed. It hurt like hell even if a little too much pressure was applied to it, much less re-punctured. Sam pressed his hand protectively over the scar and fresh wound as he breathed heavy exhales through his nose, attempting to push through the pain.

Sam opened his eyes to see Charlotte standing over him, bloodied pin poised over an undamaged, pale doll.

"No! Leave him alone!"

Dean's level of panic and desperation reached an all time high. He couldn't get free, he had no idea what to do, and he was having trouble fighting back the dizziness that blurred his vision.

Charlotte plunged the pin through the stomach of the Voodoo doll. Sam grunted and curled in against the agony as he attempted to draw in the breath that his lungs begged for. He vaguely heard Dean's strained yells of despair as the blinding pain exploded through his abdomen.

Adrenaline pulsed through Dean as he watched in horror as his little brother writhed in pain before him. He looked wildly around and his eyes fell on the gun Sam had brought with him. It wasn't that far away, why the hell hadn't he seen it before? Dean stretched out on his side and reached for the weapon. The shackles pulled at him, leaving his outstretched fingers just a few inches short of the gun.

Charlotte's eyes remained, bright and filled with evil delight, fixed on Sam as she continued to torture him with the doll.

Sam's broken cries tore at Dean and he willed his hand to reach just a little further.

"Come on!" He strained out. The shackle on his reaching arm slipped up his tricep and bit steadily into his flesh. Dean's finger tips grazed the handle of the gun.

Charlotte removed the pin momentarily and shoved it back into place, coaxing another choked cry from Sam as blood dripped from his mouth.

Sweat beaded on Dean's forehead as he fingers crawled just over the handle. "Almost there..." Sam yelled out again causing Dean to growl in frustration as his fingers grasped desperately for the gun.

Charlotte jerked the pin out of the doll and a gun shot rang out. She stared wide-eyed ahead of her. The needle slipped from her hand and landed on the cold concrete with a gentle ting. Blood oozed from a bullet-hole in the center of her forehead and she fell heavily to the ground next to Sam.

Sam sucked in grateful gulps of air as he stared at the now lifeless Charlotte. He watched in mild horror as her body slowly morphed to match the true age that she was. Her dark hair grayed and deep lines etched her face. Her tight, small clothes no longer looked flattering on her and her eyes grew milky with death. Sam spit a mouthful of blood in her direction and eased onto his side, craning his neck back to look at Dean.

His shaking arm was still outstretched with the gun held tightly in his hand. A few strands of smoke snaked out from the heated muzzle of the gun. Dean looked back at Sam, pure relief smoothing his features. He dropped his aim and slumped heavily onto his back.

Sam shook his head and smiled weakly. "Dean, next time you wanna get laid. Try to find a-"

"Yeah, yeah...smartass."

Dean chuckled and immediately wished that he hadn't. His aching body protested at the unwelcome tensing of muscles. Sam pushed himself up with his hands and shakily got to his feet. He gently massaged at his back as walked over to Dean.

"You alright?"

Dean nodded lazily.


Sam kneeled heavily next to Dean, cradling a hand to his stomach.

"I'll live."

Dean's eyes widened and he grabbed weakly at Sam's arm, pulling his hand to where he could see better. The hole Charlotte's stiletto had made went clear through Sam's palm. The flesh looked savagely ripped and blood ran freely from it. Dean's eyes shot angrily over to the dead woman lying across the room. She'd hurt Sam. She had kicked him, put a damn hole through his hand, stabbed him and tortured him. Dean's lips twitched as angry enough words tried to form themselves. Sam shook his head.

"Hey, save your strength. I'm pretty sure the score's been evened."

Dean looked back at Sam and let out a frustrated sigh. He didn't happen to agree, but there wasn't much he could do about it either way.

Sam eyed the iron around Dean's wrists again. He let out a breath and smiled faintly at Dean.

"Got a paperclip?"

Dean grinned widely, his eyes crinkling into a pleased expression.


After Charlotte's body was properly disposed of and guaranteed not to torture anyone from the beyond, the two battered Winchesters shuffled back to the Impala; Dean trailing a few steps behind Sam.

"I'll drive." Dean stated flatly.

Sam looked back at him skeptically and moved to the driver's side of the car. "Yeah right."

"Dude, your hand. It's screwed to hell. I should drive."

Sam looked at Dean for a moment and a concealed smile flickered across his face.


He tossed the keys to Dean. They jingled through the air and hit Dean softly in the chest before he could bring his hand up to catch them. Sam chuckled as Dean looked blankly down at the keys, right arm slightly raised in his attempted snatch. Dean growled out a sigh as Sam's point was made clear to him. Sam bent down and retrieved the keys.

"Get in the car."

"It's dark out here." Argued Dean as he walked gingerly over to the passenger's side.

Sam laughed and the car door squeaked as he opened it. "Yeah, sure."

Both remained silent as the Impala made its way back through the dark forest. Dean frequently eyed Sam's bloodied hand as it rested gingerly on the seat, fingers curled carefully over the hole. Dean let out an audible, regretful sigh and looked back out the window. The exhale did not go unnoticed. Sam looked over at the passenger's seat with furrowed eyebrows.

"What? You alright?"

"No, yeah I'm fine." Dean fidgeted in his seat.

"Dean, you can't follow a negative response with a positive one. It doesn't work that way. What's wrong?"

"It's just..." Dean let out another loaded sigh. "I'm sorry."

Sam looked at his brother with amused disbelief.

"You get drugged, kidnapped, tortured and you're sorry?" Sam stared at Dean with almost amused disbelief on his face. Dean didn't look at Sam or smile; he kept his eyes down on the floor of the car.

"You got tortured too, Sam. And it's my fault."

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes as he looked back out onto the road.

"It was Charlotte, or Clarissa...whatever, who did it, Dean. Not you."

Dean's silence pulled Sam's attention back over to his brother. Sam knew the look Dean wore on his face, he knew it all too well.

"Just stop it, ok? You can't feel responsible for every bad thing that happens to me. All that guilt's gonna break you, man."

Dean fidgeted and moved his gaze to look out the window. Sam growled out a frustrated sigh. When was Dean going to realize that he couldn't always protect him from everything? What was it going to take to get Dean to break this towering guilt-complex of his? Sam thought it over for awhile and his eyes focused lazily on the beams of the Impala's headlights as they cut through the crushingly dark night. "Dark..."

A smile twitched on Sam's lips as an idea came to him and he pressed down the brake pedal. Dean looked around and over at Sam as the car came to a stop right in the middle of the road. Sam cut the engine and turned off the lights. It was now completely black all around them with no lights from distant houses or street lamps in sight.

"What're you doing?" Dean asked quickly.

Sam shifted in his seat to completely face Dean.

"I want you to admit that what happened tonight was not your fault."

Dean looked around wildly. "Come on, Sam. This is dangerous, it's pitch black out here. A car could come and crash right into us."

Sam's eyes remained on Dean. "Yeah, that'd really suck..." His voice remained flat and void of any actual concern of being parked in the middle of the road in the middle of the night. He continued.

"You can't protect me from everything, Dean..."

Dean breathed out a laugh and shook his head in disagreement with Sam's statement.

"...And I'll start the car again as soon as you admit that and stop torturing yourself when I get a little banged up."

It started to become clear what Sam was doing. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Aw come on, Sammy. You're not serious!"

Sam's voice remained calm in its intent to make a point, but his expression held back a grin at Dean's obvious discomfort.

"The sooner you say it, the sooner we can go back to not being invisible to fast, wreckless drivers."

Dean turned around quickly to search the darkness for incoming headlights.

"Sam." His voice held an edge of panic.

"Your call, Dean." Sam pushed on. "Admit, or get hit-"

"Alright!" Dean yelled. "Alright! It wasn't my fault, ok? Will you turn the damn lights on now?"

A satisfied grin dimpled Sam's cheeks as he turned back to the steering-wheel and flicked the lights back on. He turned the key and pressed on the gas. Dean glared at Sam's pleased expression as they drove on down the road. He shook his head, trying to find something sharp to say.

"You're a...!" Dean tried the start of a few words, but ultimately found nothing to finish his insult with.

"Bitch?" Offered Sam.


Sam chuckled. "Yeah, maybe. But not much will get through that self-deprecating armor of yours."

"But stopping in the middle of the freakin' road in the dead of night, Sam? You could've gotten us killed!"

Sam shrugged. "It worked, that's what matters."

He heard Dean make a breathy sound, but other than that silence ensued. Sam smiled. He had left Dean speechless. Dean Winchester at a loss for words.

"You...That..." Dean tried again after a moment.

Sam's smile grew broader and Dean decided a punch to the arm would suffice for the words he couldn't come up with. Sam burst out laughing.

"Shut up, it's not funny." Dean said, slouching back down into his seat like a pouting 6 year old.

"It's a shame you don't think so." Sam grinned over at Dean.

Dean couldn't help it. Seeing Sam so amused put a smile on his face. He fought it the best he could, but Sam still noticed the upturning of the corners of Dean's mouth. Dean motioned at the front window.

"Would you just shut up and watch the road...Smartass."



Ok, so the end part may suck. But I had such a bad case of writer's block and I just wanted to get this finale finished for ya'll.

So yeah, hit me with all and any opinions. Thanks for reading!!!! Hope you enjoyed:D:D:D:D

Reviews are like Sammy, and I'm Dean...Awwwww(: )