Title: When the Bogeyman Comes Calling
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: Takes place directly after s2ep4: 'Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things". Hurt/Sick!Sam Hurt!Dean Comfort/Angst/Protective!Brothers
Author's note: Just me exploring Sam and Dean's brotherly angst and love and hey! There's a Boogeyman! :D
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CHAPTER 3
Sam trained the gun on the door as it rattled in its frame. A frustrated growl sounded from the other side and then silence. Sam heaved a relieved a breath and lowered the gun. The salt line had held.
Dean moaned softly beside him. "Dean?" Sam held his face in his hands, the blue beginning to fade and smiled. "That's it, Dean. Come back." He spoke firmly, feeling the fear start to fade finally as his brothers green eyes blinked open.
"Sa…Sammy?" Dean croaked in a very un-Dean like voice.
"Hey." Sam grinned. "Welcome back."
Dean fought the violent shivers that wracked him and tried to figure out how he could be freezing and warm at the same time. He registered the concern and shadow of fear in his brothers' eyes and knew something bad had happened…or almost happened.
"Dean?" Sam tapped his cheek lightly. "Are you with me?"
"Uh…yeah." Dean managed after a moment. "Sammy, wh-why am I in a t-tub?" He looked down, teeth chattering and his eyes widened. "And n-naked?"
Sam gave a short laugh. "You're not naked." He looked away a moment. "The Boggart had you Dean. It was stealing your warmth. God man, you were blue!"
Dean shoved himself up, the shivering starting to subside and looked around. "Where is it?"
"I don't know but the salt kept it out." Sam pointed at the door.
"Dude, what the hell happened to you?" Dean pointed a trembling hand at him.
"Damn Boggart dropped a china cabinet on me." Sam said and stood to look in the mirror. "Well hell." There were several shallow cuts in his face and fragments of dishware in his hair. He hadn't felt any of it in his need to get Dean safe. He ran a hand through his hair to dislodge them and hissed in pain. One of them was wedged into his scalp.
"Hang on. I'll get it." Dean said and tried to get up, failing and splashing back into the warm water.
Sam snorted and yanked it out himself. "Don't think so." He felt blood begin to trickle under his hair and shrugged. It would keep. "I'll get you out." Sam turned and took Dean under the arms and heaved him up. Dean swayed and had to grab on to Sam to stay standing.
"I am so far outside my comfort zone right now." Dean groaned as Sam chuckled. "Get me out of here. I want my clothes, my gun and that Golem son of a bitch in my sights."
Sam reached an arm out and dragged a fluffy brown towel off the rod on the wall. He draped it over Dean's back as he'd started to shiver again out of the water. "Ow!" Sam exclaimed at the sudden, sharp pain in his shoulder. Dean chuckled.
"Had another piece of Grandma's best china back here." Dean patted Sam's shoulder and then concentrated on lifting his resisting legs out of the water and to the floor while his little brother wrapped a towel round him and held on.
"What happened?" Sam asked finally. He helped Dean lower himself to sit on the toilet. "How'd it get the drop on you?"
"Dude that thing is fast like a freak!" Dean shook his head and batted Sam's hands away when he started drying one of his legs. "Cut it out. I can do it myself."
Sam shrugged and leaned against the wall and let the sight of his bother, alive, awake and irritated restore his damaged calm.
"Heard you yell." Dean continued, rubbing his legs vigorously with the towel, feeling the warmth return. "Then this smell hit me. I got a few rounds off but the thing went Aliens on me! Up the walls, across the ceiling and then…" He paused, staring off and shook his head. "Then I woke up naked in a tub with my little brother and we are so never telling anyone about THIS little gem." Dean dropped the towel and snagged his jeans from the floor, tugging them on over his feet and up to his knees. He stood to pull them up and staggered. Sam's long arm snaked out and steadied him.
"We should step back for a day." Sam said finally and saw Dean's face darken in protest. "Dude you can barely stand…"
"I'm fine, Sam." Dean said forcefully. "Gimme five and I'll be ready to go another ten rounds."
Sam sighed, sad to see angry Dean back again and he wondered if Dean would ever forgive their Dad for hurting him so profoundly. Would he? "Fine." Sam picked Dean's jacket up off the floor and the salt canister and started pouring some into the pockets.
"Sam what the hell?" Dean growled, watching his favorite leather being abused.
"It's the only thing I can think of." Sam handed Dean his jacket and began pouring salt in his own pockets as Dean pulled on his shirts and shrugged into his jacket. "It's not much but it might hold of the Boggart long enough for one of us to gank him."
"And if I wanna salt my fries later, I'm set." Dean grimaced. He stood again, steadier, and willed the remaining weakness out of his body. He didn't have time for it. "Let's rock and roll."
Sam silently shouldered the duffel and took hold of the doorknob. "You're gun's still out in the hall."
"Can't believe you left my gun out there." Dean grumbled. Sam waved his cast in front of Dean's face. "Yeah, yeah, you're a gimp I get it."
Sam swung the door open, relieved not to find the Boggart waiting for them. "Come on."
Dean followed him, hand on the wall for balance and scowled. "Your head's bleeding." The back of Sam's collar was seeping red as he watched.
"It's nothing." Sam led him out of the apartment, scanned the hall and took Dean's gun up from the floor, handing it back.
"Sam."
"Forget it. Let's get this done." Sam cut him off. Since Dean wouldn't leave, Sam would have to set aside worry and pain to protect him. He slipped into the mold his father and brother had shaped for him throughout his life. Dad was gone, Sam fought down the stab of pain from that thought, and that left him to take care of his big brother whether he wanted him to or not.
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A search of the sub-basement didn't take long. They simply followed the smell and the sound of running water to the large sewer grate hidden in a corner. The Boggart hadn't reappeared. Sam hoped it was below nursing a wound, he was sure he'd winged it in getting it off of Dean.
"Why can't the monsters ever camp out in the girl's locker room?" Dean groaned as he pulled the grate up and shined his light in the hole.
Sam tucked his gun in the back of his jeans and climbed down to the first rung. "Cause you'd have too much fun." He noted that for once, Dean didn't argue about not going first and smirked as he climbed down. Dean didn't want to face the rats alone.
Sam dropped the last few feet with a splash and quickly stepped up onto the ledge his light pointed out. "No rats, Dean." He called up and heard a relieved sigh. He flashed the light up and down the tunnel, eyes widening at several small piles of bones scattered about the walkway. "I think the Boggart has been living off the rats."
"Well, eww." Dean dropped into the tunnel beside him. "Which way?" Sam pointed with his light and this time Dean stepped ahead, taking the lead.
The tunnel was wet and smelly, drips of fetid water splatting on their heads from time to time. The water chugging along the floor of the tunnel was swirled with colors and carried bits of things they worked hard to ignore. The sewer took a downward turn and at the bottom it opened wide. The little stream turned into something approaching a wide, shallow creek. Sam shined his light up to the roof.
"Whoa." Above them was the floor of the original steel mill. Arced across the water ahead of them was a crumbling stone and steel bridge, looking as though it alone supported the hundreds of tons of building above them.
"You hear that?" Dean whispered and Sam nodded. Somewhere ahead of them came the sound of low growls. Dean tapped Sam's shoulder and motioned him to one side while he took the other, wading across the foul water with a grimace.
Dean eased up the bank, gun at the ready and shone his light under the aging span. Red eyes gleamed at him in the mag-lights beam. The Boggart was on the other side of the water and Dean cursed. Sam's light got closer but there was no way he could see what he was about to stumble on.
"Sam!" Dean called just as the Boggart sprang with a roar over the refuse pile behind it and out of sight. "SAM!" He heard a short cry from his brother and saw the beam from his flashlight wave wildly through the air. Dean splashed down into the water and fought against the current, listening to the sounds of a fight and begging no one in particular to get him there in time.
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Sam heard Dean yell his name a second before something slammed into him, knocking him backwards in a tumble. He cried out when he hit the ground and felt something sharp dig in to his hip. He pulled his flashlight around, having somehow held on to it, and shined it up into the Boggart's misshapen face coming down at him.
Sam threw his cast wrapped arm up and the Boggart fastened brown, rotting teeth into the plaster and worried it like a dog with a bone. Sam cried out again in pain and dropped his light. Instinctively, he dug into his pocket for the salt as the creature grabbed a fistful of his hair. Sam shoved a handful of salt into its face as it slammed his head sharply into the ground.
Distantly, Sam heard the Boggart scream in frustration and jerked as gunfire sounded very close to him. The weight was gone suddenly from his chest. His arm released, he rolled to his side as three more shots sounded above him this time. Sam looked up to see Dean standing over him and followed the beam of his flashlight a few feet away to the now still form of the Boggart. Dean stepped away and gave the carcass a kick before coming back.
"Sammy." Dean knelt by him, shining his light along Sam's body, anger rising at the blood on Sam's face, hip and chest. Sam's eyes were glassy and having trouble focusing. He had crested the rise in time to see the Boggart slam his little brothers head into the ground even as Sam gave it a face full of salt.
"Hey, Sammy." Dean put his gun away and lifted Sam's good arm, pulling him up. "It's ok. Come on, let's get you out of here." Dean got Sam to his feet, swaying and knees threatening to buckle. Inwardly he cursed himself for splitting up. He had been so sure he would find the Boggart and deal with it himself, it hadn't occurred to him Sam might find it first.
Sam limped beside him, hip screaming for attention, held up only by his brothers arm around his chest. "M'okay, Dean." He managed.
"No. You're not." Dean said shortly and all but pulled Sam up the slope back into the sewer tunnel. "I'm sorry, Sammy." He said softly.
Sam jerked slightly in surprise. "Wha' for?"
Dean got a more secure grip around his chest. "I should have listened to you. Should have stepped back." I almost lost you too, he added silently to himself but Sam seemed to hear it anyway.
"You didn't." Sam fought to put one foot in front of the other. "M'fine…mostly."
Dean gave a pained laugh and leaned Sam against the ladder up. "You first. I'll go up with you."
Sam only nodded, keeping his eyes open through sheer force of will alone.
"I've got you, little brother." Dean murmured, climbing behind him and making sure he didn't lose his grip. "I've got you."
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Sam lay on his side on the bed in their motel room and gritted his teeth while Dean stitched up the nasty gash in his left hip. Sam tried not to think about the plague he'd probably picked up from whatever he'd landed on.
"Almost done." Dean said and ruffled his hair impulsively. Sam felt tears sting his eyes at the old, fond gesture and buried his face in the pillow. Dean had flushed the wound with antiseptic multiple times after making Sam shower and he'd taken it all with barely a moan. Pride in the man he'd raised with his father gave way to guilt at getting him hurt and then anger at Dad for abandoning Sam and wasting his soul to save him.
"Dean, it'll be okay." Sam said softly from the depths of his pillow and Dean stared, then shook his head.
"Stay out of my head, Sammy." Dean said gruffly and placed a bandage over his neat stitches, taping it in place. "I don't wanna argue with you right now. Ok?" He saw Sam's dark head nod into the pillow and sighed, relieved.
He scooted off the bed and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, taking it to his brother. Sam cradled his broken arm to his chest. The cast sported teeth marks and Dean knew he had to be in pain from more than just his hip. He handed Sam the bottle and two of his painkillers.
"Don't argue. You'll sleep better." Dean ordered and Sam smirked.
"I wasn't going to." He swallowed the pills and awkwardly tried to pull the blanket up. "I hurt, man." Dean grabbed the blanket and pulled it up for him. He saw the gratitude in Sam's eyes, for more than just the blanket.
"Dean?" Sam said quietly. Dean turned away, rolled his eyes and recognized that tone as 'incoming chick-flick moment'
"What, Sammy?" Dean replied, tired and ready to be angry.
"There's a Three Stooges marathon on tonight." Sam smiled and propped his head up on the pillow.
Dean was glad he wasn't facing his brother just then. His eyes stung with tears he choked back because this time, this once, Sam wasn't going to push and talk and pick and be 'Sam'. This time he offered Dean a night of peace, to set everything aside and just be brothers.
"Sounds good, Sammy." Dean said at last, voice choked. He went to the TV and turned it on, grabbed the remote, went to the little fridge and took out a beer and finally felt sure enough to face Sam.
"No beer for you." Dean smiled and Sam groaned with feeling. Dean laid out on his own bed and found the right channel. As the opening credits of Animal Crackers rolled, despite the pain pills he'd just taken, Dean passed Sam his beer with a grin. "Don't give me your koodies."
"Girls have koodies, Dean."
"Like I said…"
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
-The End-
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I offer a special thank you to everyone who commented and to those who've offered their good wishes and prayers for my Mom. You help more than you know. Supernatural fans truly are the best of the best.
Also, a special nod to "threedays" who caught my obscure reference to the Shining in Chapter 2. :P Heh. +10 Respect points.
Now, what mischief can I cook up next for our boys?