Title: Reader's Special: Fourth Edition - One Shot Reward Fic Collection
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: A collection of 1 Shot Reward Fics for Prompters of my Reader's Special: Fourth Edition. Features many seasons, hurt/limp/awesome/caring!Sam/Dean/John/Bobby See each chapter for specific info for each 1 shot reward fic.
Author's Note: The Reader's Special: Fourth Edition was a smashing success! Prompters of the story were offered a One Shot Reward story of their choice. These are they. None of the chapters contained in this collection are connected. Each one is a stand-alone one shot per the Prompters request. Thank you to all of you who prompted the Reader's Special! You were fantastic as always!
Chapter Info: For LotRia - Preferred season would be one or two. Still stuck on the human monster; so the boys stumble upon a stereotypical evil-worshipping cult - hooded robes, candles, sacrificial alter, cannibalism, etc... you know, all the fun stuff, lol. With kidnapped/drugged/hurt Sammy and protective big brother to the rescue. It's me, so dark and scary please. I'd like to have nightmares for a few weeks from this one :-)
A/N: Oh how I love getting to your prompt every time. You let me be twisted. *huggles your prompt* post 2x05 "Simon Said" thanks Xe for the suggestion. I couldn't decide where to put this one. Lol
Reviews are love. :D
All chapters of the Reader's Special and Rewards are beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678.
There were only so many ways a job could go wrong and Dean figured they had found them all in the last few days. He glanced over at Sam as they drove and saw the same, brooding expression that had been there for days still in place ever since Andy and his brother, since Sam had found yet another special child who had gone dark side. Dean was running out of ways to reassure Sam that the same wasn't going to happen to him. He needed Sam to have faith in him and in himself, a faith made all the harder by the truthful confession that Andy had forced out of him about his own growing doubts and fears. The job they were on wasn't helping either. Seven people were dead; what was left of their bodies had come close to making the both of them lose their lunches with limbs missing, chests cracked open, and a couple of them even flayed, their skin having been carefully peeled from their bodies in what must have been an agonizing death.
"We'll figure this one out, Sammy," Dean said surely.
"Before someone else dies?" Sam sighed and shook his head. "No, I know. Not our fault." He managed a small smile. "I just hate not knowing what's doing the killing."
"We'll figure it out and I'm gonna enjoy ganking whatever it is." Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel reflexively. Sam's research skills had netted them nothing so far on what creature was doing the killing, and he knew his little brother's pride was dented. "Maybe we'll get lucky at this occult store of yours."
"Three of the victims had been there less than a week before they died." Sam watched the buildings go by out the window and hoped. "It's our best lead."
"It's our only damn lead at this point," Dean said angrily. He was just as frustrated by the lack of progress. "If this comes up a dead end, I'll call Bobby. See if he can turn up something useful."
Sam nodded and focused on the occult store front when it came into view. "Wish I had his books with us right now."
Dean snorted. "We'd need three cars. Here we go." He parked outside the store and got out with Sam. He looked up at the black painted store front and shook his head. "Why do these places always look like they fell out of a bad slasher flick?"
"No imagination." Sam chuckled and crossed the sidewalk. He pulled the door open and stepped inside. A bell on the other side of the store jingled loudly, and Sam saw a man at the counter jerk his head up to stare wide-eyed at him. Sam walked over with a smile and Dean at his back. He tugged on his suit tie and pulled his FBI badge from his pocket. "Hi. I'm Agent Sam Rollings and this is my partner, Agent Dean Ford. We need to speak with the manager."
"Agents. You're a fed?" The young man with a curly mop of blonde hair looked curiously up at Sam and then cleared his throat. "Uh, right. Yeah. Just let me get him."
Dean watched the man vanish into the back of the store and frowned. "I don't think I like him. My spidey-senses are tingling." He brushed a hand down the front of his suit jacket and eyed the store around them. "You see the way he looked at you when we came in?"
"Pretty sure that's because I'm like two feet taller, dude." Sam chuckled and shook his head. The store was packed with occult paraphernalia. There were shelves of jars of herbs, some disturbing preserved pieces of various animals, symbols and amulets, incense, tapestries with a bizarre mish-mash of symbols that made Sam roll his eyes. "This place isn't for real. Look at that devil's trap over there."
Dean followed Sam's finger to a tapestry hanging on the back wall and laughed. Two of the symbols that should have been present had been exchanged for what looked like Norse runes. "Only thing they're gonna catch with that is dust."
"Can I help you?"
Sam turned back to find a tall man with dark hair and keen brown eyes had emerged from the back. "Yes, hello. We're investigating some murders and we need access to your records."
"Some of our dead guys came through your shop before they died." Dean smiled and shrugged. "Just tickin' off a few boxes. Making sure nothin' hinkey's going on around here."
"Well, I value my customers' privacy. I'm David Malcolm." David gave them a tight smile. "I'm afraid you'll need a warrant to see my records."
Dean's face darkened and he leaned slightly on the counter to loom over the man. "Look, pal. You want us to get a warrant, we could do that. But in the meantime, we'll drag your ass downtown as a possible accessory, plaster your name all over the local news media, and see just how much the neighborhood likes having a potential murderer runnin' a business here." He smiled at the angry, shocked look on David's face. "Or you can just let us check out the names on our list and we'll be out of your hair. Your choice."
Sam smiled and picked up his role of good cop. "We just need a quick look at the records and no one needs to be dragged anywhere. Please."
David blew out a breath and nodded grudgingly. "Fine. Just… fine. I'll get them."
Sam watched him walk away muttering about annoying federal agents and quirked a brow at his brother. "And what exactly were you gonna do if he called your bluff, dumbass?"
"Please. He was about to wet his panties." Dean grinned. "No problem."
Sam shook his head with a soft laugh. "You're ridiculous."
"Your face is ridiculous," Dean shot back and slapped his brother's cast to get his attention when David reappeared from the back with a box. "Find everything?"
"Yes," David said and glared at Dean. He passed a curious glance over Sam and slid the box onto the counter. "I'll leave you to look through this. I assume you know who you're looking for. Ring the bell if you need me."
Dean watched David walk away again and felt a shiver of unease run down his spine with the last glance the man sent at Sam. He watched his little brother already digging into the box and frowned. "I really don't like this place. These guys are some kinda screwy."
Sam nodded absently as he sifted through the receipts. "Got one here." He plucked one out and gave it to Dean. "That's the third victim, and here, this is the second."
"So there's definitely something about this place." Dean took each slip of paper Sam handed him and looked back to the door David had gone through. "He knows somethin'."
"Well, he's not going to tell us." Sam straightened and closed the box. "That's all but one of the victims. So… stake him out tonight?"
"Yep. Come on." Dean pulled Sam and nudged him toward the door. "Let's get the hell outta here."
Sam leaned back in his chair to stretch his back out and kept his casted arm against his chest, trying to ignore the persistent ache. Stupid zombie chick. "What time is it?"
"'Bout five minutes after the last time you asked me," Dean said and smirked over at his brother's dirty look. "Still not late enough to go watch the store. Hours on the door said they didn't close 'til midnight." Dean shrugged. "It's only ten-thirty. We'll go in an hour."
"Awesome." Sam stood and grabbed his jacket. "I'm gonna take a walk."
"You're always cranky with a broken bone." Dean chuckled and grabbed his own jacket. "I'll come with ya."
"I don't need a babysitter for a walk," Sam protested.
Dean rolled his eyes. "There's a bar two blocks down. I have an ulterior motive."
Sam laughed and opened the room door. "I'm a little surprised you even know the word ulterior."
"Shut up, bitch. I read."
"Yeah, books with pictures don't count, jer…" Sam gasped as the door was kicked out of his hand and into his chest. It threw him back into his brother and Dean went down hard beneath his weight. Sam saw dark shapes in the door as the room light went out, felt several small, stabbing pains in his chest, and could only groan as his head swam and he tumbled into unconsciousness with his brother's angry voice in his ears.
Dean woke with a jerk and a gasp and felt hands holding him down. He shouted and tried to throw their hands off, remembering only dark figures attacking him and Sam. "Get off me!"
"Sir! Please calm down!"
Dean threw out a fist and felt it connect with someone's body. He opened his eyes, blinking them into focus against the bright light as new hands took hold of him and held him down and the surprise made him go still. "What? Where the hell am I?" He fixed a man in a white coat with a steady glare as he came closer, and Dean saw the beginning of a black eye on him from his own fist.
"Mr. Carter, you're in the hospital. You were attacked in your room." The doctor spoke slowly and evenly, hoping to keep the man calm. "Housekeeping saw the attack and called the police and you were brought here when they realized you'd been drugged. Do you remember any of this?"
Dean stopped his struggles and nodded as fear washed through him. "Sammy. Where's my brother? Le'me see him!"
"Mr. Carter, you're the only one they brought in. I'm sorry." The doctor waved off the orderlies now that his patient was aware and calmer. "The officer I spoke to said the housekeeper saw your attackers carry someone into a van before they drove off."
Dean lunged up in the bed so he was sitting and threw a leg off the side of the bed. "Gotta find him." He swayed sideways when his head swam and slapped a hand out to steady himself.
"You need to stay down, sir." The doctor took Dean's arm and tried to push him back to no avail. "The drug isn't completely out of your system yet."
"Don' care." Dean shook his head and slid his other leg from the bed. "You bring me whatever the hell I need to sign. I gotta find Sam. Now." He knew who had his brother. Dean wasn't sure how, but he was positive the owner of the occult shop had something to do with it. The way the man and his clerk had stared at Sam had set off warning bells for him, and they were screaming now.
The doctor sighed and nodded, knowing a patient who wasn't going to listen when he saw one. "Alright. Just stay here and sit until I come back with the AMA papers. Please. And try not to tear out your IV. Let a nurse handle that. Stay."
Dean snorted disgustedly as the doctor left and looked down. He hadn't even felt the line going into his left wrist until the doctor pointed it out. "Gonna kill that son of a bitch when I get my hands on him," Dean promised himself darkly and started peeling away the tape holding the IV in place.
Sam stared up at the ceiling above him and tried to catch his breath through the fresh waves of pain. His head was swimming and he tried to make his wavering vision focus. "Why… why're you doing this?"
"You're marked." David bent over Sam and smiled down at him. "The moment you walked into my shop, the warding bells told us you were marked by darkness." He studied Sam's eyes and frowned. "Brother Peter, I think he needs another dose. He looks a little too aware for my tastes. I don't want him trying to escape his bonds."
"No. Don't," Sam protested as another man appeared with a syringe. Inwardly he was reeling. His tainted blood had put him in this position and guilt flowed like a sick tide through him. He tried to jerk his arm away, but it was held fast and the needle plunged into the inside of his elbow. "No more, please." His chest burned with agony from the cuts David had already made, from the deep furrows he had gouged with the knife Sam was growing to hate the sight of.
"You should be proud. Your flesh will nourish us." David pulled the hood of his black robe back as he leaned over Sam's bloody chest again. He held the knife so it glinted in the light from the many candles lit around the small room.
"You're sick." Sam glared up at the man and tried not to flinch as the knife came to rest coldly on his chest. "What… what do you think you're doing? Wha…" his head dropped back to the table with a thump as the drug worked through him quickly. "You… cannibals?"
"The flesh of those touched by darkness nourishes the darkness within ourselves," David said with a fervent light in his eyes. He ran a finger through the blood pooled on Sam's chest and put it in his mouth, sucking it clean of every last drop with a moan of pleasure. "Our power will grow through you, because of you."
"Oh, God." Sam groaned and closed his eyes while the room swam dizzily around him. He jerked when he felt the knife cut into his chest again. He strained his head back, clenching his teeth around the cry choking him as the knife pulled down through his skin. "S… stop!"
David made careful cuts down Sam's chest and then along the left side of his ribs. "The pain is part of your gift to us, Sam." He slid the blade of the knife under a piece of skin and took careful hold of it. "Our dark lord thanks you for your flesh."
Sam screamed as David pulled and tore a flap of skin from his chest. He gasped for breath through the burning agony and fought the urge to throw up when David held it out in front of his eyes. He rolled his head away as one of David's faithful appeared with a silver platter.
David laid the strip of skin out carefully on the silver and then sucked his fingers clean again. "Begin the incantation, brothers."
Sam fought to catch his breath while voices rose up around him in a low chant. His head was swimming sickly from whatever drug they'd given him, and he felt the bile rising up his throat. The knife cut into him again and Sam turned his head as his stomach spewed out of his mouth, onto the table and over to the floor.
"Shh. Shh." David carded his fingers back through Sam's sweaty hair in a mockery of tenderness. "Don't fight the drug and this will be a lot easier on you. Just let yourself go, Sam."
Sam coughed and spit, choking on a sob. "Stop. Stop. God… jus'… stop."
David released Sam's hair and went back to his chest. "We'll have all your skin soon, and then we'll start on the muscle." He leaned back and smiled for Sam's rolling eyes. "That's the tastiest part, you know."
Sam couldn't stop himself. He screamed as more strips of his skin were torn from his body, all to the rhythmic chant of David's 'faithful'. The smell of some vile incense was heavy in the air and not helping as he fought to keep from throwing up again. His stomach was rolling as hard as his head, and tears tracked down the sides of his face as the pain continued. He sobbed in a desperate breath when he felt David start slicing into his left arm.
"Our dark lord needs the sacrifice to be alive and aware," David said softly as he tore a small strip of skin from Sam's forearm and set it on the tray held out for him. "You'll feel it when I touch your heart, Sam."
Sam shook his head and wished his body would obey him. Whatever drug they were giving him left his body feeling weighted and heavy, so much so he could barely move in spite of the pain. It also seemed to be stopping him from passing out into blissful unconsciousness, keeping him just alert enough to feel every moment of agony being inflicted upon him. "N'more… no… no more."
"Brother Joseph." David waved a blood-covered hand over Sam's legs. "Cut his jeans off and start on his legs."
"God!" Sam shuddered and felt hands touching his legs and then the bite of a blade as it sliced up through the denim.
"Do you know how good you taste, Sam?" David braced Sam's face with one bloody hand and painted Sam's lips with his own blood. "We're going to eat so well from you."
Sam could only watch the bleary vision of David licking his blood from his fingers again. He rolled his eyes away and tried not to feel the cold air hitting his legs as his jeans were pulled from him in pieces. A second knife began slicing into his leg down his thigh while David worked on his arm, and he threw his head back in desperation. "DEAN!" Sam screamed his brother's name while two strips of flesh were torn from him. He knew it was hopeless and there was no way Dean could hear him. Hell, he didn't even know if these freaks had left Dean alive, and that thought was a whole different kind of pain, but the physical agony was near unbearable and the drug forced him to be aware of it and he couldn't help himself. Dean was always the one he cried out for when hurt or scared for as long as he could remember, and his brother had never let him down yet.
"Your partner can't help you, Sam," David told him cheerfully. "We'll have to move on once we've finished with you of course. Consuming a federal agent will bring too much attention, but we couldn't just let you walk away." He trailed his fingers over Sam's bloody, ruined chest and grinned. "You came to my shop for a reason. Our dark lord wanted us to have you."
Dean crouched low along the wall of the old house and moved silently, hugging the wall to hide from the moonlight filtering down through the clouds. He had made his escape from the hospital and gone straight to the occult shop. The man who had been closing for the night had eventually been more than happy to tell Dean where to find his brother, and Dean honestly didn't give a damn right then if he told the cops who had beaten him within an inch of his life or not.
The clerk had kept his mouth shut for all of five minutes before Dean had broken his third finger. After that, he had talked long and loud and told Dean enough to curdle his blood with fear for his brother. "Friggin' cannibal nutjobs," he grumbled under his breath and reached the back of the house. It was an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, no neighbors close enough to hear anything, and Dean flinched as he heard his brother's voice raised in a cry of pain yet again. He checked his watch and cursed softly. A quick call to Bobby had been enough to get the older hunter on his way, but it would still be near an hour before he could arrive to back Dean up.
"Hang on, Sammy," Dean whispered and scrubbed his hand over his face after another pain-filled scream. It was killing him having to listen to his brother suffer. Sam wasn't typically a screamer, so for him to be making those sounds… he didn't want to imagine what they must be doing to him, but he couldn't stop himself. Bobby had made him swear to wait until he arrived before going in. According to Dean's source, there were at least eight men down there with Sam. He needed the backup. Yet as Sam's voice filtered out of the house again, this time in a desperate scream of his brother's name, Dean knew he couldn't wait any longer. There was no way he could listen to Sam calling out for him in that much pain and not respond. It was not even an option.
Dean ran up the steps of the back porch with his gun drawn and pulled it open, thankful it wasn't locked. Obviously, they weren't expecting anyone to crash their twisted little party. Sam's voice yelled again and this time thundered in Dean's ears now that he was inside. He followed that and the sound of voices chanting Latin down the hall through the kitchen. Dean turned into a door and stared in shock. His little brother was tied down to a long table, naked but for his boxer briefs and covered in his own blood. As he watched, horrified, David, the occult store owner in a black robe, tore a strip of skin from Sam's stomach and laid it on a silver tray.
Rage rose up to choke Dean and he brought up his gun. "HEY!" Dean shouted and fired, shooting the first of the men to rush him in the shoulder. He took aim at the second and grunted in surprise as he was tackled from behind.
"Hold him!" David bellowed above the sudden clamor of voices. He set his knife down and rushed to help his brothers hold the enraged man until finally they had Sam's fellow agent buried beneath a press of bodies. "Get the needle!"
Dean heaved up, trying to dislodge the men holding him and snarled angrily when it didn't work. "Get off me you sick sons of bitches! Sammy!" He realized the depth of his mistake coming in early as they held him down so tightly he had trouble catching his breath, knew that he should have waited for backup… for Bobby. But there was no way he could simply listen to his little brother screaming for him and not do something. He wasn't wired that way. But now things were worse, and he could only hope Bobby would be able to bail them both out of this mess when he arrived and not end up in the same position Dean found himself in.
"Give me his arm," David ordered and took the syringe when it was brought over.
"No… dammit, no!" Dean shouted and tried to jerk his arm free of their grip, but there were too many and they were too determined. He felt the bite of a needle sliding into his arm, and a moment later Dean slumped beneath the hands holding him while his head began to swim and the room spun dizzyingly around him. The weight pressing him down finally eased and he felt himself being lifted. Dean opened his eyes and tried to struggle as they sat him up against the wall, but his body wasn't listening to him any longer. He could see Sam through the men around him, tied to the table and chest heaving. He glared death when David kneeled down in front of him to meet his eyes.
"You partner has been touched by darkness, agent," David said with a smile. He patted Dean's knee and held up his blood-stained hands for the man to see. "We still have a lot of work to do. You can watch but you won't be interfering, and I'm sorry to say you won't be leaving again after this. We just can't take the risk. We let you live at the hotel. You should not have come here. Now, get comfortable."
"N… no," Dean managed to ground out between his teeth and could barely twitch his arms in a bid to move. He watched as the men circled his brother once more and began chanting as David walked back to Sam and picked up a bloody knife from his chest. "No!" He watched David lay the knife against his brother's chest and heard Sam's pained gasp. "You… you touch him… 'gain an'… I will r-rip your… your fuckin' head off!"
"His flesh will nourish us," David told the agent with a smile and worked at slicing another careful strip of flesh and smiled more broadly at Sam's choked scream. "His darkness will grow within us."
"You sick… sick bastard. Stop!" Dean fought for air around his rage as Sam's cries filled the room over the chanting again.
"Dean!" Sam sobbed weakly, his voice desperate and bordering on delirious. He thrashed his head weakly on the table through the agony and would have sworn he could hear his brother's voice. "God! Dean!"
"Sammy!" Dean's heart was pounding out of his chest with his need to save his brother as David held up a strip of skin, glistening in the firelight and showed it to him. "Bastard!"
"Eat of my flesh," David said softly. He met Dean's enraged eyes and brought Sam's skin to his mouth. He sucked it in obscenely like a string of spaghetti and began chewing. He closed his eyes and moaned with pleasure while Sam's warm blood ran down his chin.
Dean swallowed hard against the urge to vomit as the bastard actually ate a piece of his brother. "Gonna kill you," Dean promised darkly while his limbs twitched helplessly. A single tear escaped unbidden to roll down his face as his brother suffered and called out for him. Whatever they had given him, Sam obviously wasn't fully aware, at least not enough to realize that Dean was actually there, although it clearly was doing nothing to dull the pain.
"Drink of my blood." David slid his eyes from Dean's and motioned to his followers. They each stepped up to the table and, as one, bent over Sam's bloody body.
Sam cried out as he felt mouths on the open wounds along his chest, arms and legs. He could feel tongues digging into his exposed muscle, throats working against his body as they sucked his blood from him and swallowed. He was being eaten alive. "NO!" The horror of it made him cold and he shuddered, shaking enough to knock his teeth together. "S… stop! Dean, please!"
Dean struggled against the drug keeping him immobile as he watched the horror playing out before him. The faithful leaned back from Sam's body at last with his little brother's blood painting their faces. They stepped away and began the chant again while David ran his hands up and down Sam's body, his arms, his legs, trailing through the blood and open wounds like he was worshipping it. "Get off him!"
Gunshots rang through the air suddenly and Dean watched three of David's robed friends drop to the floor and lay still. A fourth and then a fifth followed, and the last few ran for the door as the window blew into the room in a shower of glass barely contained by the heavy, dark curtains at its sides.
Bobby's voice through the shattered window made Dean choke on a sob of relief. "Bobby," he called hoarsely and saw the older hunter climbing through the window. "Sammy."
"You alright son?" Bobby studied Dean on the floor, saw his arms and legs twitching and guessed that they'd drugged him again. He turned his attention to Sam and swallowed hard around the need to throw up at the sight. "Aw, son." Bobby reached out and rested a hand in Sam's dark, sweaty hair; stilling his head. "Sam. You hear me?"
"Bobby, ge'me up." Dean's arms and legs still felt leaden, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't get to his brother. "Bobby, please."
"Knew you wouldn't wait for me to get here," Bobby said as he reluctantly left Sam to go to Dean instead. He knelt down and pulled one of Dean's arms over his shoulders. "I outraced two state troopers on the way here, you idjit," he said fondly and grunted with the effort of lugging Dean to his feet. "Put a call in to a friend of mine while I was at it. S'got an old decommissioned ambulance. He's on his way and we'll get Sam and you outta here."
"Sammy." Dean let Bobby lean him on the table near his brother's head, supporting him and slowly managed to convince his free hand to come up and rest on Sam's blood-spattered neck. "Sammy, I'm here. Come on, buddy. See me. I'm right here."
Sam rolled his head over and blinked furiously until finally, his big brother's suspiciously moist green eyes came into focus and a sob caught in his throat. "Dean!"
"Right here, buddy. Bobby too. We gotcha. Just… gonna get you outta this. Bobby?" Dean turned his head sluggishly and found the older man watching them both with damp eyes.
"Yeah. You stand up long enough on your own for me to untie him?" Bobby took Dean at his word when he nodded and stepped back cautiously. Pure stubborn force of will kept the elder Winchester on his feet and Bobby went to Sam's feet to work on the knots securing his ankles. "Sorry I missed a couple of the bastards," he growled angrily, taking in the flayed wounds on the young man's legs.
"Dean." Sam coughed and rolled his head gratefully into the hand Dean rested in his hair. "Get… get me… out of…"
"Shh, I know, Sammy. I know. We're workin' on it." Dean reassured his little brother and the fear still in his eyes. "Bobby said he's got a friend coming."
"Charlie," Bobby piped up and came up to the head of the table to start on Sam's wrists. "We'll get you loaded in the ambulance and then Charlie'll tell us if we need to come up with a cover story for a hospital or not."
"Or not?" Dean asked in surprise and nodded angrily down. "Look at him! He's tore to pieces! Besides, the cops already know he was taken, and they know about the others who have been killed by these bastards. He's going to the hospital!"
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Bobby sighed and pulled Sam's now free arm gently down to his side. "Guess I was just hopin' this ain't as bad as I think it is." He grimaced as Sam's blood coated his fingers and curbed the sudden urge to go hunt the last remaining members of the coven and kill them too. He hadn't even flinched when he'd seen what was happening through the window. Every shot had been aimed with deadly intent. No one screwed with his boys; not like this. "You're gonna be alright, Sam."
Dean slumped over his brother's shoulder and closed his eyes. "This drug sucks."
"How much they get you with?" Bobby asked in concern.
Dean shook his head. "Enough, but… can still kinda move. S'better than Sam anyway."
"Good." Bobby untied Sam's other hand and left it there with Dean leaning over him. "You stay with him. I'm gonna go make sure none o' the faithful sons of bitches are still around."
Dean nodded and managed to steady his legs a little better beneath him. "How you doin', Sammy?"
"Mmm… better." Sam frowned and felt his fingers finally moving with his orders. As much as he wanted to move and get off the table, he was afraid to move at all and risk making the already agonizing pain even worse. It was like waves of fire pouring through him, the drug still making sure that he couldn't pass out and escape the pain. "More… more or less."
Dean's laugh was a soft, brittle thing. "Dude, you look like Leatherface's patchwork quilt." Dean knew Sam would probably carry those scars for the rest of his life but he was alright with that, so long as he knew Sam was going to be ok. He rubbed his fingers through Sam's hair to give him something to focus on other than the pain and blew out a breath. "They say why they grabbed you?" Dean asked carefully, not giving away that he already knew, wanting to know how much psychological damage may have been done in addition to the physical trauma.
Sam's breath stopped for a moment as he looked up at his brother and he closed his eyes. He gave a small shake of his head. "No." He couldn't tell Dean that they'd taken him because they thought his blood was evil, his very being. How could he explain what he already suspected every day… that he was cursed with the same darkness that had killed their mother and Jess? "Just… crazy stuff. Ranting."
"Ok. Don't worry about it." Dean looked up, relieved as lights flashed across the room. "Think Bobby's friend is here. Have you outta here in no time."
Sam nodded miserably and swallowed around the lump of emotion in his throat. "Dean," he said and opened his eyes again. "Thank you."
Dean managed a relieved smile for Sam and squeezed his shoulder as Sam's eyes closed again. "Savin' your ass is what I do, little brother. Always."
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