A big thank you to Magoghair and Kristyd who through their stories & conversations on twitter, has shown me I enjoy hurt/sick Dean and protective Sam. I hope you do too.
Warning: Cussing/Swearing in this one. The 'F' word features.
Beer and Other Bruises
Sam woke up to Dean crashing his way through the door. Knowing he was drunk out of his mind, Sam rolled over to his side desperate to get back to sleep. This was nothing new. Every other night for the past month and a half, Dean was out drinking until all hours, back to picking up loose women and getting relatively no sleep.
Sam was getting worried. It had been seven months since they had reunited, since Dean had left Lisa and Ben to go back to his life on the road. He swore that this time, they would take it easier, not go after things so big, pull it back and stay on top. But since then all they were doing was going back to the way they were, getting over burdened and overwhelmed with the stresses of the job.
Sam could see the affect it was beginning to have on his brother. Sleepless nights, mood swings, bottling things up and drinking way too much way too often. When they started back on the hunt Dean was rejuvenated and revitalized, now he was just plain exhausted and out of control all over again. It was becoming a problem and Sam knew it was time to kick an action plan into gear.
But that would be tomorrow.
Tonight he wanted to sleep.
'Sam.' Dean's voice sounded different; husky, shallow. Sam's eyes snapped open. He spun around and switched on the lamp hoping to see his brother flopped on top of his bed like usual but instead saw him slumped over on the floor near the door.
Without a second's hesitation Sam ripped the blankets from himself and bolted over to where Dean had fallen, only then noticing the blood coming from his nose and lips and the bruises forming on his cheeks, jaw and arms.
'What the hell happened?' Sam asked checking over his body. His heart felt like it was in his throat.
'Hustled some pool.' Dean mumbled grabbing hold of Sam's upper arm and trying to lift himself up. 'Made five hundred bucks. '
'Oh my God. Dean!'
Sam helped his brother over to his bed and made sure his back was against the head board. Rushing to the tap to get a glass of water, he checked over his shoulder to make sure Dean was still upright. So far so good. Hangovers were not uncommon in Dean's world and either were aspirin. Sam grabbed the packet of pills from the table and broke out three.
'Here, take these.'
'I'm okay.' He could hardly open his mouth to speak.
'Dude, seriously. Take these. You are anything but okay.'
'Said I'm okay.' Dean grumbled lifting his arm high enough to push Sam's away. Lightly. He was weak. Weak and hurt and battered.
'Who the hell did this to you?' Sam felt his anger rising. He had learnt to control it since his escape and had been proud of himself for it, but now he was feeling like it was getting the better of him and every time he looked at another mark on his brother's body, it was getting worse.
'Just want to sleep.' Dean said putting the tablet to his mouth and trying to take a sip from the glass. Water flooded back out and he spat the tablet out onto his t-shirt.
Picking it off him, Sam smashed it up between his fingers and emptied it into the glass, along with another two. 'This is going to taste like crap but you need to drink it anyway.'
It took over five long minutes to get it down, with Sam continuously putting the glass to Dean's mouth and Dean more than not pushing it away. 'Just sip it.' Sam said flustered. He had something to do and something to do quickly.
Once taken, Sam went to work trying to undress his reluctant and uncooperative brother. Eventually and finally, his shoes, socks and jeans were off and Sam had him relatively comfortable under the covers.
'Dean listen to me. Dean. Are you listening to me?'
'Mm.' He groaned wanting to sleep, all he wanted to do was sleep this pain away.
'Who did this to you?'
Instead of answering, he closed his eyes and slowly turned onto his side, facing away from Sam. With a nod, Sam said; 'Dean, your phone is right here okay? Listen to me. Dean. Right here on the bedside table. You call me if you need me. Okay?' Silence filled the air. 'Okay?' Nothing.
After a nod, Sam pulled on some jeans and shoes, grabbed the keys and started on his mission. These guys were going down. Whoever they were they were going DOWN! He did a quick calculation in his head. He figured two minute drive, ten minutes to kick some heads in and break some bones and two minutes to drive back. Fourteen minutes. Dean would be fine alone for fourteen minutes. Yes.
Sam had only been to the bar Dean had been frequenting a couple of times with him. He found it to be a nice little intimate bar. Quiet, peaceful, pleasant. That was soon going to change.
Stepping in, he did a quick head check, nothing seemed out of place, no one seemed like a first class mother-fucker, so he moved straight to the bar man.
'What can I get you?' the young guy asked cheerfully.
'You can tell me who the fuck I have to kill around here?'
To say the bar man was shocked would be an understatement. Poor guy just looked at him like he hoped Sam had just spoken in another language. 'I'm sorry?'
'I want you to tell me who the fuckers are that beat my brother to a fucking pulp. …Please.' He added for politeness sake. 'Because I am going to tear them apart.'
'Sir, you really can't be saying things like that.'
With a thump on the bench, Sam leaned in closer into the guy, 'I can say whatever I Goddamn want to say. Now, just tell me…..who the fuck was it?'
'That guy deserved exactly what he got.' Stated a lone drinker on the other side of the bar. Within an instant Sam was in his face, grabbing hold of his collar and saying, 'So it's you I have to kill?'
'Take it easy. I didn't touch the guy.' He was drunk and old and weak and probably telling the truth.
'So tell me who did.' With everything in him, Sam was trying to control himself. He was fully aware once he laid eyes on the dudes who did this he would completely lose it but until then he had to keep it together.
'Those guys.' He smugly pointed to a group of tattooed bikers outside in the beer garden. Sam let him go and turned in their direction, 'Good luck with that.' The man smirked.
'I don't need luck.' Sam stated as he felt every muscle flex. Bikers or not, these guys were history.
'Dude, you don't know who you're messing with.' He laughed.
''Dude, you don't know who they messed with.' Sam called back without turning his head. Once he had made his way through the tables and had successfully ignored the curious stares of the other patrons, he slammed open the glass door causing it to fly back into the brick wall outside. If the force of the door banging open didn't grab their attention the sound of the shattering glass most certainly did.
'What the fuck?' said the biggest, baldest biker quite possibly of all time as he jumped up from the table he was sitting on. If Sam was in any other frame of mind, he would laugh. Of all the guys Dean, you picked these to hustle? But right then he wasn't thinking that, he was just thinking of their blood smeared across the walls.
'Who the fuck are you and what the fuck is your problem?' The macho man ordered racing over to Sam. Just like a movie, his mates began to drop their beers and back up their mate. There were only four of them, five including Captain Fuckass. Easy.
'My problem-'Sam snarled shoving Capt F against the wall with all his force 'Is that you messed with my brother you fucking asshole motherfucker!'
By the time Capt F had smashed his bottle against the table to give himself an instant weapon; Sam had punched him twice in the face and another time in the gut. Sam didn't expect him to even feel it. This guy was huge and solid and pissed, but nevertheless he lost his footing and fell back into one of his idiot mates. Sam took the quick opportunity to lunge at the next one coming at him and flung him across the room, crashing him into tables that broke under the force. Back to Capt F, he ripped the cut bottle from his hand and threw it over the other side of the room. Weapons between fighting men created an unfair advantage. He wasn't down for that, he was though, down for ripping their unpretty heads from their unpretty bodies with his bare hands.
Taking two on at a time was a challenge, he was getting thumped himself, especially when number three decided to join in the fun, but ignoring the pain, ignoring what others would feel was a losing battle, he put his trained fighting skills into action. Focused on the image of Dean broken and beat-up in their shady Motel room alone gave him the drive to hurry this thing up. It was these guys that did that to him, it was these guys that showed his brother no mercy, no shame and no fairness.
As he punched and pummeled and threw bodies around like they were basket balls, he wondered if Cas could cure Dean. You know like he had several times before. That would be good if he could. It was hard to contact Cas nowadays though. He only seemed to appear when he wanted to and not often when they called. He was annoying like that lately. Still Sam was sure Cas would want to heal him. Of course Cas would want to heal him, Cas always wanted to heal him. Yes, that was his next plan and it was a good plan. Contact Cas and make Dean okay again. Perfect.
Five bodies down.
With a satisfied huff, Sam turned on his heels, gave the guy at the bar a parting nod, the stunned barman a wave and moved outside to the car park.
There the Impala sat waiting for him to take him back to the Motel. Lucky Dean was asleep; he didn't take lightly to Sam taking off in her without him knowing.
He kept an eye open for a possible onslaught as he turned the ignition. He was aware that at any time, these pricks could wake up and pick up that broken bottle and come after him to slice his face apart. They were that type.
The Impala didn't roar to life like Sam expected her to; instead she gave a rumble and shut down. With a frown, he tried again. This time nothing, not even the rumble he hated to hear just a second ago.
'Oh come on! ' Trying again, he felt sick at what he didn't hear. Nothing was not a good sound when it came to a car that needed to start and quick. 'Nono, do not do this to me! Please!'
Time and time again he was met with the same silence.
'Oh you have got to be kidding me! Come on! Please, come on.' Sure he was a little concerned about five pissed and hurting bikies coming to life, but he was fucking freaking out about his brother and what he was going to do to him if he knew he'd killed his baby.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He should have walked. Why didn't he walk? Dean was going to kill him.
Knowing not a damn thing about cars but knowing damn well he couldn't ask anyone in there for help, Sam did the only thing he could do.
Locked her up and ran.