Rescue Mission 4/5

[soncnica]

Title: Rescue Mission 4/5
Author: soncnica
Rating: PG-13
Genre/pairing: gen, h/c
Characters: Dean, Sam, Bobby
Word count: cca. 2.204 this chapter, the whole story has around 13.041 words.
Summary: Dean has been kidnapped. Taken. Gone for four days and three nights. Sam's on it. He's gonna find him. He is. Just watch him. This continues my story Intro.
Spoilers: Umm for S4, S5. So if you haven't seen those seasons...
Warnings: Ummmm, none? If you find anything, do tell!
Disclaimer: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is not mine!
A/N: I used Breaking Benjamin's song called 'Away' for, huh, idk how to call it... chapter descriptions, idk... those sentences in italics... idk, LOL but whatever you wanna call it, I do not own those.

I need you…

Dean didn't just sob, right?

Damn…

Sam saw Dean cry before, sure he did, they are brothers after all, they live together, it's kind of hard to hide sometimes; he saw Dean's tears roll down his cheeks a lot of times, but he hadn't heard him sob; really sob in a long time. Not since they were kids.

The constant drip pause drip pause drip pause drip of the water and their breathing that was almost in synch; Sam's a little too fast, Dean's a little too slow… were the only sounds in the small room and the small hitched sob broke the perfection of the noises. It made Sam's heart drop into his stomach; like always when Dean cries.

Damn, damn, damn… okay… okay

"Umm, all right, okay. Here…"

He scooted closer to his brother - if that was even possible, because it seemed like he was practically already laying on him - bumped his knees into Dean's ribs, and had to catch himself with his right hand on the floor near Dean's side in order not to fall completely on top of his brother. Crushing your big brother to death, while trying to save him… not the smartest thing to do.

It wasn't easy seeing his big brother like that. Almost drowning in his own piss, eyes red and feral, scared and wet, body shivering, fingers bloody and shaking, missing nails, wet clothes and… misplaced mind.

Sam didn't know if he could do this; get Dean out without losing his own mind, but he knew that he needs to do it, because no one else will. His brother… he's all he has left. All there is.

Sam grid his teeth, almost breaking a tooth with anger that filled him. Anger with whatever or whoever did this to Dean. Anger with himself for not finding Dean sooner. Rage of unspeakable proportions directed at everything… at everything that happened since Dean was 'taken'. At everyone that had hurt Dean like this.

But years and years of 'suck it up, boy' and 'hide it deep inside of you, boy' made him turn his anger into action. Pure and simple action.

Get Dean out, fix him, forget it, go hunt and save people. The end.

The cave was sparkling in front of his eyes. The flashlight was still directed just so, that the beam was reflecting off of the little white crystals that were embedded into the walls, casting a light on the whole space… Sam was able to see the spot from where the water was dripping off, he was able to see the white, water licked stone the water drops were falling onto drip pause drip pause drip pause drip, he was able to see the blood on the wall where Dean was curled up against when he found him.

And he could see Dean, right before his eyes. Shivering and clutching at his arms like he really would fly away if he let go.

Anger turned to action. Just like that.

"Dean. Up."

He started to detach Dean's hands from his arm and after finally succeeding in moving one away from his arm and the other one away from Dean's ear, he started to lift up his hoodie; it was wet, it was sweaty, it probably smelled really, really bad, because he hadn't taken it off in four days and three nights, but it was hell of a lot warmer then Dean's soaked T-shirt.

"… put this on." He held up his hoodie, the brown color of it looking almost black in the light. And all the wet spots on it were night black in the light.

"Dean, come on, put this on."

Sam sighed. Dean wasn't moving an inch; he just kept looking at him with wide eyes and a far away look… eyes shining in the soft light.

"All right, come… up," he grabbed Dean's wet arms - slippery and cold - and raised his brother's upper body up from the floor and maneuvered his hoodie over Dean's head.

Because of the state of Dean's fingernails or well, the lack of them, slipping his hands in the sleeves proved to be more difficult then Sam thought. Dean's left hand caught in the fabric of the hoodie and Dean whimpered. Whimpered.

Shit…

"Sorry, man. Sorry."

He quickly pulled Dean's arm up and slowly lowered it down again. It was like dressing a rag doll. Dean's arms didn't go where Sam wanted them to go, Dean's body didn't wanna go where Sam pushed it… it was frustrating and Sam was just that much thankful to Dean for… being there when they were kids.

"There."

The look, he got from Dean, when the hoodie was finally where it should be said it all; warm, safe, home, Sam.

He was cold, now. But it was mild and he probably couldn't compare it with how cold Dean must have been all that time stuck down there.

He shivered and caught Dean when he fell forward into him.

"Oh… okay…," his arms were flailing around before settling on Dean's back, "get up."

Dean's forehead was cold where it touched the side of his neck. Cold and clammy.

There was a breeze coming into the room from somewhere, probably the little door, he slid in before; he didn't even notice it before, but now that he did… it was cold and it hit his wet shirt right on his back. The cold felt like he was being whipped; slowly and methodically.

"Okay, okay… umm," he gripped his brother by his hands again, pushed him off of himself and started to lift him up, "Dean, come on. Work with me here. Come on."

"Sammy?" Dean grunted out.

"'m here, man."

Sam whispered into Dean's damp hair, when Dean was half way up to standing. The smell hit him again; now that Dean's jeans got some air to them… he nearly choked on it. This would be perfect teasing material, if Dean would piss himself while being drunk or something, but this… Dean must never find out about this. He'll take Dean to the car, say screw you to every speed limit existing, push Dean into the shower and never speak of it again.

He chased Dean's eyes in the semi-darkness. Finding them scared and teary, his eyelids covered with mud and blood, he gripped Dean's head with his hands, wet palms to dirty cheeks, leaned closer and whispered: "I gotcha, alright? I found you… but we need. To. Go."

Dean nodded, water and probably sweat shining on his face. His brother really had a fever… awesome. Sam just hoped that his hoodie really did provide some warmth to Dean's body.

How he didn't freeze to death, is just another question for Dean to answer.

"Sam…"

"Here, 'm here. Man, you're heavy. A little help here, come on."

Dean was heavy in his arms, even though he lost a lot of weight. He was like a bag of cement; heavy and boneless.

Holding Dean up, one arm around his brother's waist holding the gun 'never be without protection, Sam', the other firmly placed on the center of Dean's chest, pushing the amulet into Dean's sternum, convincing his brother to hold the flashlight pointing straight… they finally made it out of the little side room in the cave.

"No water, you hear it?"

Dean was silent.

"No water. Come on, walk with me."

The shadows in the main cave retreated back to their place; the darkness in the corners. They backed off or so it seemed to Sam. He was thankful. He really didn't want to fire his gun in the small space. But it still felt to him like… he was being watched by something. Something that probably had huge, black eyes and teeth that were so sharp you didn't even feel the sting when they ripped the skin off your bones.

"No water." He whispered and pulled Dean on.

Dean was without his shoes, and Sam was being extra careful about the path they were taking. But he couldn't avoid every pebble, every rock and every tree root. He wanted to, but… he couldn't. And every time that he couldn't, Dean hissed and grunted.

"Sorry," a rock, he couldn't make Dean not step on, "sorry," some pebbles that Dean had to step on, otherwise they wouldn't be able to get anywhere, "sorry, 'm sorry…" sorry for everything.

"'s not your fault."

Dean slurred out, his head bowed down, chin to chest.

"Dean?"

"Not your fault. 'm fine."

He sucked in some saliva that started to run down his chin, making a long string down to Sam's hand on his chest.

"Dean?"

Sam wanted to stop walking, wanted to raise Dean's head up, wanted to check how his brother was doing, wanted to see… if Dean was still Dean, because his brother was not this talkative and coherent back in that small room.

"'m fine."

He hissed when he stepped on some rocks again. He stumbled and would probably fall if his little brother wouldn't be as strong as he is.

It seemed that with every step they made, getting further away from the dripping water, from the cave full of shadows, Dean was getting more coherent, stronger and more confident on his feet.

"You okay? You… hurt?"

Maybe now, he would get a coherent answer from Dean.

Because it all depended on the answer. He checked Dean over before, found nothing physically wrong with him, and if Dean would say that 'yeah, 'm hurt', well then Sam would just have to kick his ass for not speaking up sooner. It was like time stopped when Dean sighed, closed his eyes and rolled the answer around in his head.

"They," he opened his eyes, "… didn't hurt me hurt me. They… just screwed with my head a little."

Damn it…

Sam would prefer 'physically hurt', then 'screwed with my head'. Because 'physically hurt' meant maybe a stitch here and there, some band aid, some gauze, some Whiskey and lots and lots of pills.

'Screwed with my head' meant a lot of beer, Whiskey, seedy bars, women, sleepless nights and hangover days.

Awesome.

"Okay… okay…," he glanced at Dean's stomach, remembering how protective Dean was about it and even now, he was holding his arm over it, "your stomach hurts?"

"'m just hungry, thirsty… it's been a few days, you know?"

His voice was a whisper of slurred words.

"I know." He whispered. Four days, three nights.

"Not your fault, man. Okay? 's not."

Sam patted him on his chest and that made his brother cough.

"You good?"

"Get me the hell out of here, man."

"Workin' on it. Come on."

They walked through the same corridor Sam walked alone in just half an hour ago, hoping beyond hope that this really was the place that he would find his brother in. He could still remember the hurt inside at the thought of finding Dean… dead.

But now he had his brother with him. Alive. A little weak, but alive. And that's all that mattered. Even the narrowness of the corridor didn't bother them… they just… managed. Like they always did and always will. Manage. Every. Situation.

Dean was shivering… trembling in his arms. He tightened his grip; he felt like Dean would shake himself out of his arms, if he didn't hold on tighter.

He ducked and took Dean with him, when he nearly ran into the same tree root as before.

"Sam… you're real, right?"

Dean's gruff voice surprised him on his way back to a full standing position.

"Yeah… last time I checked, I was real."

What did those bastards do to his brother?

"You're not one of them, right?"

"Your skills are a bit rusty, man. You should've checked that before you went with me."

Dean tensed. He tensed so bad, Sam was afraid he would break right there and then. Shatter into a million pieces, Sam would never be able to pick up and glue together again.

"No, man. 'm not them. Trust me," he pushed his fingertips in Dean's stomach, gripped him around his waist tighter, making his brother feel that he was real, "I'm me and we really need to get out of here."

He really needs to get his brother out of here and just… lock him up in the Impala and drive far, far away from this place.

Dean chuckled: "Yeah, my ass is freezing here."

"Yeah… come on, walk faster." He pushed Dean on, made him lower his head when needed, made him step over any rock, stone, pebble that looked like it could hurt Dean's feet. They were a mess already, no more mess was needed.

"God, 'm hungry."

"Gonna go get some food, but we really need to get out of here. You up for it?"

"'m up for dancin' if you wanna."

"Naw, just going out of here would be awesome."

Sam could already see the light of the well's opening. Just a few more feet and then freedom. Freedom from this place physically, but mentally… Sam was afraid of how much of Dean this place has taken.

I'm coming to take you away…

Chapter 3 II Chapter 5

Comments

[27-jaredjensen.livejournal.com]

Awww, I love cold, shivery Dean wearing Sam's hoodie.

And I also loved this: "'m up for dancin' if you wanna."

Awesome chapter:)

[soncnica.livejournal.com]

*giggles* dunno what possesed me to put that in the story, but it just seems logical that Sam would give Dean his hoodie, coz it's warm and Dean is cold and they can't afford Dean being cold... ya know!? 'm happy you liked that :)

awesome. I really love it when people point out what they liked OR what they didn't...

heheh.... I wonder how Dean would dance at that moment *grins*

thank you so much for reading!

I'll put up the last chapter on Sunday :)

S.

[darth-firefly.livejournal.com]

Excellent chapter - looking forward to the rest!

[soncnica.livejournal.com]

hey!
thank you so much for reading!

I'll put up the last chapter on Sunday :)

S.

[kantrixgabriel.livejournal.com]

Your characterizations are BEAUTIFUL. Makes everything that much more real.
Also, "Sam… you're real, right?" really, really tore at the heart strings. Nicely done.

[soncnica.livejournal.com]

hey!

thank you so much for reading this! awww great.... I love it when I can idk push the readers into the story... thank you so much!
you liked that line!? awesome, yeah... I mean WE DON'T KNOW YET what was going on with Dean, but... that line, just makes us believe that NOTHING good was happening with/to Dean! :))))

thank you so much!

S.