By: Karen B.
Warning: Season Five Spoiler!
Summary: Season five spoiler. Short missing scene. Episode: 5-14. My Bloody Valentine. Dean pov.
Disclaimer: Not the owner...just a prisoner of my own muse.
Thank you very much, for reading my crazy ramblings! Can't seem to help myself.
The joint was quiet now, save for the noticeable hum of a wobbly ceiling fan. Only three of us left who remained standing. I looked at Sam. Blood dripped freely from his nose, bright red against his colorless face. He blinked a lot, like his eyes were heavy, like he could hardly stay conscious. Beads of sweat were popping out on his brow and above his lip. His whole body shook as he stood there taking in several deep breaths. The demon junk -- or lack of -- was already taking over; the blood's toxicity screwing big-time with Sam's nervous system. He wouldn't be able to control himself for long.
"Ahhh!" Sam suddenly pulled at his hair as if to prove that thought was true, his knuckles going white and body jittery.
"Relax now." I held my hands up to him, fear raging inside me. Sam looked like he was about to shred himself from the inside out, jump out of his own skin. Sam, relax." I kept my tone cool and calm. "It's just us now. Right, Cas?" I didn't need to look to know exactly where Cas was -- right behind me.
"Your brother needs help, Dean."
"We all do. Need help," I said irritably. "Back at Bobby's place. How 'bout it, Sam?" I forced cool and calm to return. My only thought: I had to keep Sam from getting to anymore of the stuff. "Sam? How about it?"
"Sorry," Sam finally answered, the word coming from deep inside his chest -- from the bottom of his heart. Sam folded his arms tight across himself avoiding my eyes. "Dean…I…I'm sorry." His voice was so small, so full of agony I could barely hear him. He didn't say anything more, just sobbed. His entire body stiffened and he didn't move from the spot he'd done his freaky wonder-boy thing from, like his feet were ice-locked to the ground.
I didn't move either. Didn't say anything. Just kept staring at him. I'd underestimated the intensity of Sam's powers. They blew my socks off. Socks, hell, they blew every dish, spoon, demon and Famine in a wheelchair off the grid -- all at the same time. How was I going to bring my brother back from that? We were back to the start, and now I had to do the right thing -- all over again. I was sick of the right thing. If it was the right thing -- why'd the right thing always feel so righteously shitty.
I could tell Sam was struggling with the cold-hard truth of right things. I could see the desperation in his eyes.
"Not again," I muttered.
"Dean, you have to..." Sam's left foot unfroze and he took one step backward before freezing up again. "You should hurry," he muttered, throwing a brief glance toward the door.
Sam knew what was coming next. All three of us did. Sam wanted to do the right thing, too, I could see that. I could almost feel his heart racing away, pumping the fucking demon blood faster than his mind could think, faster than his body could keep up -- already at war with himself.
"I can't," Sam growled.
I could read his thoughts. He knew I'd be quick. Sam knew he coldn't make it to the front door. He scanned the room, eyes darting back and forth, checking for other ways out. Windows, keyholes, mouse holes. Crap, if he could, I think he would even have tried squeezing himself into a vomit encrusted toilet bowl and flushing himself out. Anything to run far away, fast. I wanted to run far away, fast, with him. Things were hard enough the first damn time he was imprisoned. This time would be unbearable. His suffering would be bad, but I had no choice. There was no weaning him off the shit like I had weaned him off the bottle when he was a baby.
"Sonofabitch, Sam!" The words flew out my mouth before I could stop them. Sam jerked, eyes landing on the front door, escape route confirmed. "Okay, okay," I soothed, trying to control the shot of adrenaline that rushed through my body.
"He is infected, Dean. You can not let him leave." Cas, who now stood close to my side, warned sternly. "He will only destroy himself."
"How's that hope and faith thing working out for you, sunshine!" I yelled in aggravation at the poor angel who seemed to nearly fade into the woodwork. "Sorry," I muttered not taking my eyes off Sam.
"Understandable, as you say, Dean, that's how you roll, " Cas said, seeming to accept my lame apology.
"I…I shouldn't have." Sam glanced down at his feet, biting on his lower lip, but a sob broke free anyway.
It's okay Sammy. You're not to blame.
"Spilled milk, dude. Not going to cry about it," I said softly, taking a tentative step toward him.
Cry over spilled milk -- never. Spilled demon blood -- that was another story. But I didn't need Sam knowing that.
I could sense the ice melting further around Sam's feet. He was going to bolt. He couldn't help himself. Sam wasn't my Sam right now.
"Sam, come here," I requesed quietly.
"Dean…I don't..." His voice trailed off. "I'm scared," he said point blank. "Please." Sam gave me 'the look.'
Puppy-dog face should be registered as a lethal weapon. I was ataken back, we had a standoff. If the wrong words were said...
"You need to to be there, Sam."
Sam wrinkled his forehead still avoiding my eyes, and slinking back another step closer to freedom. "For how long this time?" he asked.
A sudden chill raced up my spine. Part of me wanted to let Sam go. The selfish part of me. I didn't want my baby brother back behind that ironclad door. His screams of tortured pain from the last time still haunted me, like a shadow monster trapped in my head. I'd be forced to cuff him down -- yet again. Sam would shiver and convulse uncontrollably, chest heaving up and down desperately hampered for air. Eyes rolling upward, fever as hot as a firestorm and fighting off cold-blooded hallucinations from the inside out. When it was over, and it would be over because no way he was getting out, Sam would be reduced to nothing more than a soggy newspaper for weeks. Just the thought of him breaking all over again, made something hot and worm-like work its way up into my throat. Having no choice -- sucked every which way things could suck.
Sam took another small step toward the door, recapturing my attention. "Dean." Sam looked scared and shivered hard. "I need you to stop me. I can't stop me."
Castiel shouted a split-second warning, just as Sam unexpectedly turned and darted toward the exit.
"No!" I rushed forward. "Sam!" Catching Sam's right hand, I noted his flesh was already heated. "I got you." I tugged him protectively against me. "I got you now."
I was surprised when Sam leaned into me, his chin easing down to my shoulder. "Dean," he hiccupped. "Help."
Tears welled in the back of my throat, and for a moment in time all the crap disappeared, and we were locked in a world only the two of us knew. A world where we weren't some freaked-up demon/angel tuxedos, but Sam and Dean -- just brothers.
I opened my mouth to say something, wasn't sure what, but before I could, Sam shoved me away. He gained two steps, weakly tripped over his own clown-sized feet and dropped down with a solid thud to his knees, head lolling to one side.
"Sam!" I dropped down next to him putting a hand behind his neck, my fingers splayed out for support.
Uh-ungg," Sam moaned breathlessly, his body cruelly jerking hard.
"Whoa, hey, hey." I grabbed hold of his right shoulder trying to steady him.
"Gaaaa!" Sam cried out, baring his teeth as if my touch was something hot and agonizingly painful.
"Easy, okay?" I winced, holding on tighter.
"Dean, you must use these." Cas took up the other side of Sam, supplying me with the handcuffs.
"I have to do this, pal," I said, quick to take Cas's offering and cuff one of Sam's wrist behind his back, like he was a friggin' prisoner. "Don't make me fight with you on this, man," I pleaded as Sam tried to rocket away.
"Got…got to stop me. Lock me up." Sam struggled off his knees, his face twisting with confusion and fear. "Errr…it'll hurt!"
"Christ, Sammy, I know." I snagged a look at Cas, hesitating only a second before I yanked Sam's free hand behind his back and finished binding his arms. "We'll get it fixed, Sam."
"Rrr," Sam moaned and stopped his struggle. "Dean." He opened his eyes, staring off at nothing.
"We won't go far," I told him. Sam wiggled to get away. He stamped a foot to the ground once again trying to stand. I stopped him. The withdrawal symptoms were coming on way too fast. My guess was Sam was still ramped up on Famine germs. "Sammy." I dipped my head to catch his eye. "I'll be right outside the door. Cas and I both will." I pressed a hand to my brother's chest in silent promise.
Sam's face contorted, breathing heavy, puffing and panting as he sought out Cas.
"We will not leave you alone Sam Winchester," Castiel confirmed with one of his saintly smiles.
"What's happening to me!" Sam pulled and tugged violently against the cuffs and I knew without looking that he was drawing blood.
"Don't." I pressed my lips against Sam's ear and whispered softly, "Sam, come on now, let me help you."
"Dean," Castiel gripped my shoulder. "It would be more efficient if I were to…"
"Sling-shot our asses there," I grimaced at the thought. "Think you can make sure we land on a batch of feathers?" I winked at Sam, he just stared at me with nothing but trust in his eyes, even if that trust wasn't in his bain. We were silent a moment, and I could feel the beat of my own heart match his fast pulse.
"Ready?" Sam asked, his shaky whisper cracking the silence.
"If you're done looking at me all ga-ga eyed," I laughed lightly.
"Do it," Sam said, gritting his teeth. "Dean, do it," he whimpered like a day old puppy, curling into a ball on my lap.
I looked up at Cas and sighed, "You heard my brother. Do it."
Castiel nodded as a gust of wind swept us to the panic room -- Sam locked in, me, locked out.
"We are all prisoners of love, Dean," Castiel said, his eyes joyless as he handed me a bottle of Jack.