Challenge WOW: Bind
Summary: Dean gets the worst birthday present he could've imagined.
Word Count: 397
A Very Merry Un-Birthday to Dean
Dean shut the T.V. off, sighing. Sam had been gone since this morning, and Dean was only a little upset that he hadn't bothered to say happy birthday. But whatever, it didn't matter. For God's sake he was 31 years old, he didn't need to feel bad of his brother forgot his birthday.
Someone knocked on the door. He stood, consciously checking that the .45 in his waistband was still there. He slowly made his way over to the door, taking the gun out, just in case. He carefully opened the door…and saw no one. He frowned, looking around, squinting in the early evening light. Not a soul, anywhere. But he heard noise, frantic breathing and small groans. He looked down.
Hands bound tight, bruised, bloodied, naked, scared. Sammy.
Dean stopped breathing.
"Sammy!" Dean knelt down next to him, lifting his torso into his arms and gently tapping his cheek. "Sammy, Sammy, hey buddy, wake up, c'mon, wake up," he urged.
Brown eyes fluttered open, frightened.
"D-don', pl-please, don-don'-" he begged, writhing weakly.
"Hey, hey, easy," Dean's heart had tied itself in a knot and a lump in his throat made it hard to talk. "It's me, Sammy. It's Dean, it's okay."
Dean lifted him carefully and got him into the motel room, laying him on the bed. "C'mere, buddy."
He undid the bindings on his wrists, which were wrapped tight in front of his chest.
"Hu-hur's, D-Dean," Sam whimpered.
"Shh…I know, I know. I'm gonna make it better. Who did this to you?" He asked quietly. Sam turned his face away, crying. "Okay, okay, shh, it's alright." Sam cringed, shutting his eyes, tears squeezing out and whimpering.
"Dean…it hur's. He-help me, pl-please!" He begged. Dean swallowed. It was very hard not to let the tears in his eyes fall.
"It's okay, Sammy. It's alright. What hurts, huh? Tell me what hurts, buddy," he said gently.
"M-my back," he breathed. Dean carefully lifted Sam's shoulder, wincing when his baby brother whimpered.
He rolled Sam onto his stomach. Sam looked up at him, his lips trembling, body shaking.
"It's okay, Sammy," Dean assured, brushing his hair out of his face, trying to smile. It faded quickly when he looked at his little brother's back.
"No," he breathed. They were welts from a whip, bleeding, deep.
Happy Birthday Dean
--Thank you, please review--