Hi! I know that this has been written a thousand times, but I am relatively new to the Supernatural fandom, and I only just recently saw the episode "The Benders" for the very first time.
SO, after watching this episode, and reading lots of AMAZING versions of this particular scene (where Sam rescues Dean from the Benders house), I decided to write my own version. This is also my first ever Supernatural story, so please read, review, and give me some constructive criticism!
BTW, anyone who happens to be reading my SW story New Recruits, I am working on that one slowly. Writers block is a total pain.
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
After sparing one last glance at Officer Hudak, Sam turned and headed toward the house. Dean had never come back out with the key, so Sam assumed something must have gone wrong.
I hope he's alright, he thought.
The younger Winchester stepped onto the dilapidated porch, listening carefully for any other members of the creepy Bender family. When all that met his ears was silence, Sam pushed the door open and walked inside.
As he made his way through the house, grimacing at some of the more gruesome trophys, he heard a high, sing-songing voice filled with glee.
"Your brothers dead, you killed him. It's all your fault."
Sam frowned, then peeked around the door frame.
What he saw had him both terrified and angry in the same instant.
Dean sat, tied to a chair, as a little girl circled him, a lethal knife clutched tightly in her hand. Periodically, she would pause, drawing the knife slowly across his brother's chest, face, and, most terrifyingly, his throat.
Dean's head was drooped down to his chest, and if Sam didn't know better, he would have sworn his brother was crying.
Knowing that his only chance to free Dean lay in his ability to distract the littlest Bender, he turned on his heal, and as quickly and quietly as possible, went back down the dingy hallway into the main room. His eyes fell on a small table with keys and other various artifacts. Sam pushed the table over, causing a huge clatter.
The sound of small footsteps approaching had him ducking out of sight.
The girl from before came into the room, knife still in her hand, looking for the source of the disturbance. Sam crept behind her and clamped a hand over her mouth, silencing her scream. He yanked the knife away and threw it out of reach. Spotting a small closet off the room, he dragged her kicking and fighting over to it and dropped her inside, slamming the door quickly and barring it.
His concern now focused solely on his older brother, Sam hurried back to the room where Dean was being held.
The older Winchester hadn't moved an inch. His shoulders shook slightly as Sam approached him.
"Dean?" Sam asked, placing a hand on his brothers uninjured shoulder, "Are you okay?"
No response. He knelt down beside Dean, beginning to undo the knots that held Dean to the chair.
Slowly, the older hunter raised his head. He looked over at Sam and, in almost a whimper, said
"Sammy, is that really you?"
Sam answered, "Yeah, Dean. I'm fine. What about you?"
Ignoring the question, the other only reached out a hand to rest on his brother's shoulder. Sam smiled reassuringly, and raised a hand to place on top of Dean's. Dean stared at their hands for a moment, as if expecting Sam's to vanish at any moment.
"Sam? Are you really okay," his voice was shaky at best, bordering on totally disbelieving, "I thought," he shuddered, "that you'd been- that you'd been shot. Th-They were going to shoot you. I thought you were dead, Sammy. "
Oh, Sam thought, that would explain a lot.
"Nope," he said, attempting to sound nonchalant, "Dean, seriously, I'm fine."
Dean stood at last, holding out a hand to help Sam up. Once Sam was standing as well, Dean pulled him into a quick, one armed hug.
"I'm glad you're okay, Sammy," he said finally, tightening his grip around his brother.
The younger man returned the hug, chuckling, "I thought you said no 'chick-flick' moments. This seems pretty sappy to me, Dean."
"Shut up," Dean growled, releasing Sam, "bitch."