Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their respective owners, Eric Kripke, the CW, WB.
A/N: This is for Woodburner. Happy birthday!
Though, sometimes life just doesn't work perfectly... The first and third chapters are over 100 words, but only by a little, and chapter 2 is essentially a short OneShot. But eh, Birthdays are special occasions.
Players: Check out Enkidu07's profile page.
Challenge Word: Steady
Keep Me Captive, Save My Brother
He only hoped Sam had gotten away. The pain grew to be too much; Sam was all he could think about now. And he was desperately wishing Sam wasn't going through the same thing.
"Had enough Dean?"
He had a smart-ass retort. Hell, he had a million of them. Each one would earn him a good smack to his already beaten backside. But he just didn't have the breath.
For what felt like the millionth time, Dean's vision greyed as another shock of pain was sent through his spine. No one would steady his swinging body. He was so close to darkness.
"Hey! Get your hands off of him, you son of a bitch!"
He knew that voice. I'm glad you're okay little brother.
The darkness felt good. It always did. Better than the alternative.
Oddly enough, though, he remembered having a crazy dream while unconscious. He'd dreamt that Sammy had found him and saved him.
But that was insane. He was still hurting. Sam couldn't have come. He could still feel the sadistic bastard having another go around on his back. It was burning worse than ever.
Gah, he must still be dreaming.
"Dean? Wake up."
"Dean, I'm here. You're safe."
His voice sounded so real, and so worried. So Sam.
Then he noticed he was laying on his stomach, on something soft, a bed of sorts. His wrists still hurt, but he wasn't swinging anymore. His body was actually a bit more comfortable.
Must be dying. Or dreaming.
This is a good dream at least.
"Dean, we're in the motel."
Heh. Yea, right. You're not convincing me of anything.
But surely, that was Sam's voice. It had to be. Yet someone was still hurting him. Dean wanted to shout for Sam to run, to get away. His voice wasn't working though.
"Dean, hey, calm down. You're going to pull your stitches. Dean, you're safe. I've got to finish patching you up."
Sam was doing this?
Suddenly he was awake; his eyes were open.
The light was so bright. He hadn't seen light since... what felt like forever.
And he really was on a bed. That much he could see for a pillow half-filled his vision.
The other half, it was blurry but someone was moving.
His heart rate rose. The burning seemed to get worse now that he was awake again. Why couldn't he have just stayed in the dark?
What the hell? Sam's voice was still here. And the brightness wasn't going away.
"Hey, yea, Dean. I'm here."
"Ah, guh. I' hurtss"
"I know. Just let me finish your back."
"Dean? Sweetheart?" A new voice. Female. "You're safe now." So sweet. So familiar yet ghostly, almost heavenly. He could almost feel her familiar golden hair and flowing white nightgown and soft touch. She was so close. He just had to reach out...
"Dean, need some more painkillers?"
And the voice was gone. It wasn't her. She wasn't here. Ugh.
"Dean? Say something bro."
"All right. I'm almost done. I've given you about 40 stitches to your back, but the rest I could only patch up. You'll be in pain for a little while. I'll keep you on painkillers until I can get some morphine. Also might need to get some blood for you. You... lost so much."
Dean noticed the burning was still there. But it actually was different than before. This was a gentle burn, a safe burn. Unlike that bastard, who laughed at his burning and relished in the pain. He could still hear his laughter. Among something else...
"God, Dean. I'm so sorry." Sam was crying. "He- The son of a bitch. He- I almost didn't get there in time. You- you were just hanging there. You're heartbeat was unsteady! He- Gah! That damn whip he held... You're blood was-"
" 'sss he deadd?"
"Heh. Yea Dean. I got him. He's gone."
Dean sunk. The pillow suddenly felt like heaven, as did something else... his little brother's hand clenching his own while the other rested on his burning shoulder. He felt so cool.
Dean tried to move then. He wanted the pillow out of his way so he could see his brother.
"Shh, Dean, calm down. I know you want to move... but you won't be able to lie on your back for a while. It's... sore."
And Dean faded back to black. Safe. Not a dream. He really was safe.
"Just relax Dean. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."
Even safe, Dean still had dreams. Well, more like nightmares.
Everything. Being kidnapped, being in the dark, being... tortured, brought back Hell.
His nightmares were steady, switching between Hell and his capture. The agony filled his dreams, and he knew, more than once, he woke up screaming. But something kept him sane.
Well, someone. Sammy. No matter what hour, Sammy was there, to place his cool hand on his sweating brow and tell his everything was all right. And with Sam so close, Dean would feel better.
Dean may have been the older brother, but Sam had learned everything from Dean. And damn, Dean a great teacher.
A/N: Eh, I love writing capture scenes. It's always fun. So, I went to the recovery. I had a minute-muse. Went away as soon as I stopped typing but for a minute nothing could have stopped me. So, consider the first part the official drabble entry. Thanks for reading thus far. Please leave some lovely reviews.