Title: Down Time

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: Blood and death stalk a quiet logging town. Sounds like a perfect place for the Winchesters to recover. post 2x03 'Blood Lust' hurt/caring/awesome!Sam/Dean

Author's Note: This one was slightly delayed by the book signing we did today in downtown Roanoke with Geek Mob. Lol Went great! Met some awesome people and signed some books! Between the cosplayers and being sandwiched between the Mysticon table and the Roanoke Whovians table, it was pretty much nerdvana for me. :P Oh and the stormtroopers. Dude. The stormtroopers. They were fantastic!

This chapter is unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. :D

**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~

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"That's just peachy." Dean turned his head to see where the shifter was behind him. The thing wearing his brother's face was too far back for him to reach before he'd be shot unless he had a distraction. "What the hell do you want?" he asked, looking back to Cander. "You decide to kill us finally?"

"I haven't made up my mind." Cander shrugged and turned to look back at Sam. "Perhaps. I think we'll play a little first. My son didn't get to have all the fun he wanted with your brother last time. He feels cheated, don't you son?"

"Yeah I do, dad." Not-Dean pricked the blade of his knife into Sam's throat until blood began to trickle.

Sam flinched from his brother's voice in his ear and watched his real brother instead. He could see the tension vibrating off of Dean's body. He wanted to fight but there were no safe moves unless Sam could give him an opening. He saw the warning in Dean's eyes; his big brother seeing what he was thinking and made his decision. Sam took a breath and twisted in the shifter's grip.

"Sam, no!" Dean shouted but it was too late. He could only watch as Sam turned in his captor's grip, the knife sliding along his neck and grappled with the thing.

Sam drove his knee up into the shifter's solar plexus and wrapped a hand around the wrist holding the knife. It was a futile effort, he knew. He could feel his head pounding and spinning from the exertion as he fought; the healing wounds on his chest pulling painfully and the puncture in his left shoulder dragging his arm down. He was in no condition for hand-to-hand combat and had to trust that his brother could turn the tide before they both ended up dead.

Chapter 6

Dean didn't waste the distraction his brother was giving him. He turned and lunged toward the shifter wearing Sam's face behind him. He got his hand on the gun and pulled not-Sam's hand down as it went off. Dean felt the bullet burn a path across his left hip and heard someone grunt behind him. He hoped the bullet had hit one of the bastards somewhere useful. "Come on!" Dean shouted and wrenched the gun loose from the shifter's hand. Dean kicked out and slammed his foot into one of his knees and the creature went to the floor with a cry. Dean gave his own shout of pain as not-Sam's fingers dug into his stitched up left arm. He felt fresh blood well up and stitches tear and snarled angrily through the pain.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean knocked the shifter's hand loose and spun when he heard his brother's shout behind him.

Sam tackled the thing wearing his brother's face as he wrenched the knife free from his hand. He rode him down to the floor and drove the blade into his neck; flinching internally at the image of slicing his own brother's throat open. He put all his weight behind the knife and felt the point bite into the floor under them. A hand grabbed his wounded shoulder and he cried out as he was yanked backward.

"No!" Dean shouted as Laura took hold of his brother. He swung the gun around and fired into her back, taking her in the heart and she toppled into his brother. Dean let off another round at the other shifter behind her and then grunted as he was tackled to the floor by Cander and the thing wearing his brother's face.

"Hold him!" Cander bellowed. He grabbed a hold of Dean's arm and twisted viciously until he felt something snap, the man yelled and the gun clattered to the floor.

Dean's vision went white with pain as he was flipped to his stomach. He felt shifter-Sam's arm slide across his neck and looked out to find his real brother. "Sammy?" He saw his brother lying in a heap on the floor with Laura's body on top of him. "Sam!"

"I don't think your brother's up for talking right now," Cander snarled. He stood and dusted off his pants before walking over to them. He rolled Laura's body off the younger Winchester and saw her dead eyes staring up at him and went cold with rage. He looked down at Sam, lying still atop his dead son and then at Laura's brother; dead and resting against the wall where he'd fallen. "Now I really am going to kill you two," he said softly.

"Sammy!" Dean slammed elbow back into shifter-Sam's face and tried to roll to his back; heart thundering with fear for his brother.

"Sam's busy bleeding." Cander said angrily and turned to look at Dean with an evil smile. "You shot him."

"What? NO!" Dean shook his head in denial even as he remembered the gun going off and the grunt of someone behind him. "You're lying!"

Cander bent to Sam and dragged the man off his dead son. He flipped the younger Winchester to his back and pointed to a bleeding wound in his right thigh. "I think he'd still be up and fighting if not for that." He put his foot on Sam's thigh and pressed down hard.

Sam moaned with pain and slowly regained consciousness. White-hot agony burned in his leg and he opened his eyes to find the shifter, Cander, standing over him with a booted foot digging into his leg. "Stop!"

"Leave him alone!" Dean shouted and then lost his breath when the shifter holding him down rammed a fist into his kidney.

Sam rolled his head over and saw himself holding his brother down and punching him. It was surreal and made his head spin with confusion. He tried to sit up and grunted in fresh pain as Cander slammed a fist into his chest and knocked him back. The blow over his healing wounds took his breath away and left him dizzy and weak.

"Stay down," Cander warned Sam, removed his foot and held up the gun. "Or I'll put more holes in you until you do." He smiled. "Better yet, I'll put a few in big brother over there. Do we understand each other?"

Sam nodded, defeated and looked back to his brother. The thing wearing Sam's face had stopped punching him and was simply pressing Dean's face into the floor to keep him still. "Stop hurting him."

"You killed my son, Sam." Cander reached down and pulled his son's knife out of the ruin of his throat. He gave the bloody blade a long look and looked down at Sam. "What will you do to save your brother?" he asked and knelt down on one knee beside him, holding the blade out for Sam to look at. "I need to kill one of you. I really do but I'm a generous guy, Sam. I can leave one of you alive. I kept my word before, didn't I? So what will it be?"

Sam swallowed hard and looked over at his brother again.

"Sammy, don't!" Dean yelled and groaned as the shifter wearing his brother's face forced his head into the floor harder.

"Shut up." Not-Sam grinned. "I really hope he says no because then I get to play with you, Dean."

"Sam!" Dean tried to roll out from under the weight but it was too much. The shifter had all the leverage.

"Alright," Sam said softly. "I won't fight you. Take me just… let him go."

"I will but not until I'm done." Cander grinned now that he had what he wanted. He took hold of Sam's t-shirt and slid the knife under the edge. He ripped upward with the blade and split the fabric, laying Sam's wounded, bandaged chest bare and didn't miss the rage-filled snarl from the other side of the room. He turned and met Dean's murderous eyes. "You took some of my family away from me, Dean. Now I'm going to take one of yours."

"No. No!" Dean watched the shifter bare his brother's chest and suffered. "Take me instead! Come on! Don't you touch him!"

"This is pretty stitch-work, Sam." Cander smiled as he ripped the bandages away to reveal the healing wounds beneath. He placed the tip of the knife at the top of Sam's sternum at the start of the row of stitches. "Looks like these are ready to come out. Let me help you with that."

Sam shouted in pain and fought the need to roll away as the blade bit down the center of his chest, tearing stitches out as it went and leaving blood to trail over his skin. "Crap!" He only barely stopped himself from grabbing hold of the knife when he heard Dean grunt in pain.

"Good boy," Cander chuckled. He took the corner of another bandage and ripped it free and then another.

"Sam!" Dean struggled under the shifter's weight, trying to throw him off again.

"Knock it off!" Shifter-Sam slammed a hand down onto Dean's injured arm and grinned as he cried out. "That might be broken. Dad's got a hell of a grip. Let me check."

Dean tried to pull his arm away and cried out again as the shifter's fingers dug into his forearm cruelly. "Ah!" The sound of Sam's gleeful laughter in his ear made his stomach twist with revulsion. His little brother should never sound like that.

"Stop it!" Sam did take hold of Cander's hand before he could cut him again and glared up at him. He twisted the shifter's hand to free the blade and couldn't duck the fist that slammed into his jaw. Sam saw stars and then merciful blackness as his arm fell to the floor.

"Damn," Cander sighed and sat back on his heels. "This isn't as much fun if he's not awake. His head's still a little sensitive, huh?"

"Son of a bitch!" Dean planted one knee and finally managed to roll shifter-Sam off his back. He scrambled away with his left arm held to his chest and cursed himself for losing his gun. The shifter wearing his brother rolled to his feet with a snarl and advanced on Dean.

"That was a mistake, big brother." Not-Sam growled and circled the hunter with a smile. "I've got all of Sammy's thoughts in my head. I know how you fight. I know your moves. You can't beat me."

Dean shook his head, glancing over the creature's shoulder to his brother. Cander still stood over Sam but for now seemed more interested in what Dean would do. He faced his brother's sneering face again and felt the same spurt of fear Sam must have felt. "You don't know anything."

"I know he resents you… I… resent you." Not-Sam kicked a leg out toward Dean's knee that the man easily evaded. "Always telling me what to do, never listening to me. You're just like dad was and I can't stand you for it. First chance I get I'm gonna run away again. You know it."

"Shut up." Dean plucked the pot of half eaten chili off the stove with his good arm and threw it at Sam's head. It glanced off his shoulder and spilled across the floor. "You're not my brother, you son of a bitch and I know the kinda games you sick assholes play. I ain't buyin' it." Dean backed up again until the stove was at his back. He put his good arm behind him and felt around for something else to use as a weapon; anything else. Before he could find something, the shifter was on him.

Not-Sam wrapped his bigger hand around Dean's broken arm and squeezed until the man went to his knees with a cry of pain. "I'm gonna enjoy this, big brother."

Dean looked up into Sam's sneering face as a familiar hand closed around his throat. His heart clenched in anguish; finally understanding the nightmare his little brother had lived through. He gasped for breath as the hand squeezed and dug his fingers into the shifter's wrist, trying to loosen his grip.

The door of the cabin burst inward suddenly and there was an explosion of gunfire. Dean blinked furiously as blood sprayed into his face from shifter-Sam's chest. The grip on his throat loosened and Dean pulled in a ragged breath as he fell backward and the shifter toppled to the floor in front of him. It was jarring to watch his little brother's eyes go dull and flat in death and Dean shook himself as a flare of gut-wrenching, knee-jerk horror worked through him. He looked up in time to watch Bobby's rage-filled face as he leveled the gun at Cander and fired three times. The shifter staggered back and went over to his back on the floor; dead with a look of surprise etched onto his face.

"Bobby?" Dean asked hoarsely in disbelief.

"Knew I had a bad feelin' about leavin' you two alone so I hightailed it back here." Bobby knelt and put shaky fingers to Sam's throat. He smiled and dropped his head for a moment when he felt the thrum of the boy's pulse. "Thank, God."

"Sam." Dean got to his knees and then used his good arm and the counter to get to his feet. He swayed while pain slammed through him from his arm but ignored it to go to his brother; his real brother. He stepped over the thing wearing Sam's face and crossed the house. "Came outta nowhere, Bobby." Dean went to his knees beside Sam. "I wasn't ready. I should'a been ready."

"No one could'a been ready for this, Dean." Bobby looked around at the dead bodies littering the floor and shook his head. "You're lucky to be alive, the both of ya'. What's wrong with your arm?" He frowned and reached out but Dean flinched back.

"Probably broken." Dean curled his left arm into his chest and reached out to Sam with the other. "More worried about him. Check his leg."

Bobby moved and bent, cursing when he found the bleeding wound in Sam's thigh. "Balls, is that a gunshot?"

Dean nodded and hung his head. "Wild shot when I got the gun away from the shifter wearing his face." He gestured down to his hip. The bleeding had mostly stopped but the pain was still a steady presence. "Grazed me."

"Never should have left you," Bobby said softly as he took in his battered and bleeding boys.

"I've had one of these assholes in my head before, Bobby. I should have known they could find us." Dean brushed Sam's hair out of his face and hated himself a little more. "This one's on me." He frowned and then leaned down when he saw Sam's eyes begin to move under his lids. "I think he's comin' around. Sammy?" He watched Sam's eyes crack and then fly open fearfully. He had to grab one of Sam's fists as it swung up toward his head. "Whoa! Whoa! Sam, it's me! I mean real me! Relax! Stop!" Dean looked back and saw Bobby had grabbed his brother's other arm. He hated restraining him after what they'd been through but there was little choice until he calmed down. "Sammy!"

The sharp, familiar cadence of Dean's voice cut through the fog in Sam's mind and he slowly stopped fighting. He looked up at his brother and saw the shine of genuine concern there. He swallowed once, hard and closed his eyes. "Dean. Sorry."

"You got him, Sammy," Dean reassured his brother and loosened his grip on his arm. "They're dead. We're ok. It's ok."

Sam opened his eyes again and stared, confused, at Bobby kneeling beside him. "You sure 'bout that?"

Bobby grinned and patted the boy's shoulder gently. "It's me, Sam." The grin faded as he took in the state of Sam's chest and the reopened, bleeding wound down his sternum. "Here's the deal boys. I can fix most of this. Hell, I can dig that bullet outta your leg, Sam. What I can't fix is that." He pointed to the arm Dean had curled to his chest. "We're hittin' the clinic down in town for that and we may as well let 'em patch up Sam while we're at it."

Dean sighed in defeat and looked at his brother. Bobby was right. "You think you can get to the car, Sammy?"

Sam gave a short nod and held a hand out to Bobby. "I can make it if you can."

"Come on." Bobby stood, planted his feet and groaned as he dragged Sam slowly up and then ended up with the boy hunched over his shoulder and swaying. "Easy, Sam."

"Sammy?" Dean rested his good hand on the back of his brother's neck worriedly and saw his pale face.

"S'ok." Sam forced himself to stand up on his own though he kept a firm grip on Bobby's arm. "Room just… spinning a little."

"You take another hit to the head, son?" Bobby asked and put a hand up to feel through Sam's shaggy hair for a fresh bump but Sam shook his head.

"Punched me in the jaw." Sam brushed his fingers over the sore spot on his face.

"Close enough, dammit." Dean looked around the carnage and sighed for the mess they would have to clean up later. "Come on, before one of us falls the hell over." He limped to the door and waited for Bobby and Sam. "How's my baby?"

"Gimme two minutes I'll unhook her from my truck." Bobby told him as he steered Sam to the door. It wasn't easy; the boy was too damn tall and barely walking on one leg to boot. "Here, Sam. Sit out here while I do that." He eased the younger man down to the chair on the porch and wasn't surprised when Dean limped over and sat in the one next to him. "She's got a couple scratches on the back end," He told Dean and smirked at the scowl. "That black dog decided to have a go at me while I was hookin' her up. Soon's I killed it, I kept waitin' for the shifters to show up and when they didn't… I just knew."

"Glad you listen to your gut," Dean told him sincerely. "Or we'd be dead."

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam said wearily and let his aching head lean on the back of the chair. He felt Dean's foot nudge his and opened his eyes to look at him. "M'ok."

Bobby pulled a bandanna out of his pocket and gave it to Sam. "Put pressure on that wound, son. It's still bleedin'."

Sam folded the bandanna up and pressed it into his thigh while Bobby jogged down the steps and to the cars. "I thought I heard something outside and then you were behind me only it wasn't you and… I'm sorry, Dean. He shouldn't have gotten the drop on me like that."

"Hey, knock it off." Dean would have slapped his shoulder if he could have moved his left arm without screaming. "There were five of 'em and I'd'a been pissed if you got yourself killed playin' hero before I could get out there."

Sam was surprised into a smile and nodded, knowing there was little point in arguing with his brother on this one. They would both hold their own guilt about this mess. "Alright."

"Alright." Dean watched Bobby unchaining the Impala from the back of his tow truck and swore he could see the claw marks on her back end in the moonlight. He looked back and saw his brother's eyes closing as his head lolled to the side. "Sammy?" He waited but didn't get a response and his concern ratcheted up. "Bobby! Hurry the hell up!"

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Sam lay across the back seat of the Impala and sighed in relief as the car finally stopped moving and they parked in front of the cabin.

"Don't move, Sam. Let us help you." Bobby warned the boy as he turned off the car and looked over at Dean. The elder Winchester had been none too happy about not driving but the wound on his left hip made it impossible for him to sit properly behind the wheel. He was canted sideways in the passenger seat which had the added benefit of letting him keep an eagle eye on his little brother.

"Oh forget it. I can get out on my own," Dean told Bobby and snorted a laugh. "Somebody's gotta help you get the princess outta the car."

"Idjit," Bobby said fondly and climbed out.

Dean turned carefully and opened the door. It had been a long night in the clinic, telling and retelling their threadbare story of a hunting accident over and over to doctors who didn't quite believe them but could find no reason to call in the authorities. "Stay put, Sammy,"

"Right." Sam rolled his eyes and resigned himself to being 'handled'. He pushed himself up when the door behind him opened and Bobby was there with a hand on his back.

"I'm gonna pull ya' out. Careful of that leg." Bobby slid his arms under Sam's shoulders, careful to stay away from the freshly stitched wound on his chest and pulled. The bullet that struck him had gone through muscle and lodged in the bone. Sam wouldn't be walking anywhere without crutches for a few weeks. "Careful now."

Sam nodded, already sweating from the pain as his thigh was jostled. "Crap," he groaned and felt Dean's hands before his leg left the car.

"We gotcha, Sammy." Dean leaned against the side of the Impala and helped Bobby ease Sam out until they had him standing.

Sam leaned heavily against Dean and the car and caught his breath. "Getting really tired… of feeling like… m'gonna fall down."

Dean chuckled and patted his back. "Yeah I know. Stop getting hit in the head and you'll feel better."

"Funny." Sam pushed back enough to get his balance and let them slip under his arms on either side. He walked unsteadily, limping heavily up the stairs and into the cabin where they deposited him on the couch. He looked around and was surprised to see the bodies gone and the floor looking as though it had been recently cleaned.

Bobby smiled and patted Sam's shoulder, seeing the look on his face. "Had the Addam's family burnin' out back all night while you two were laid up. They're gone, Sam."

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam leaned back into the corner of the couch, put his head back and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. "M'just gonna stay here for a bit."

"Good idea." Dean limped over to the kitchen and grabbed the empty coffee pot. He glanced back at Sam and leaned against the counter. "Did a good job cleaning up in here, Bobby."

Bobby nodded. "Well, I didn't want either of ya' comin' back to that mess. You didn't need to see 'em again." He reached out and took the pot from Dean. "Gimme that. Go sit down before ya' fall down."

Dean smiled and nodded wearily. Rather than the bedroom, he went and slid down into the chair next to the couch and his brother. He rested his newly casted left arm, fractured in two places, in his lap and let his head fall back. "Wake me when there's coffee." He drifted for a while on the painkillers the hospital had given him, sometimes sleeping and sometimes listening to Bobby putter around the cabin. Into that silence, the sound of Sam's voice floated and Dean frowned. He fought his way back to full consciousness when he heard Sam whimper.

"Sammy." Dean moved from the chair to the side of the couch as Sam began to shift in his nightmare. He took hold of Sam's right arm to protect himself and nudged his shoulder. "Wake up, dude. Just a nightmare. Sam."

Sam shot awake with adrenaline coursing through his system and instinctively flinched back from Dean leaning over him. "Crap!"

"Whoa! Its' just me. You're ok." Dean's heart broke a little with the flinch as it did every time but he smiled until his brother began to calm. He put a hand to the side of Sam's neck and gave it a squeeze of reassurance. "You ok? Know where you are?"

Sam took a moment and then nodded. He closed his eyes and tried to stop his pounding heart. "Yeah. Yeah. We're uh… the cabin. Sorry." He brought a hand up and scrubbed it down his face before looking at Dean again and felt awful for flinching away from him. "Sorry, man. I was dreaming…"

"Yeah, I get that. Don't worry about it." Dean released his brother's arm and watched him. "How you feelin'?"

"Hammered crap," Sam said easily and gave a weak smile. "Better though." He took comfort in the warm weight of Dean's hand on his neck; the age old gesture reassuring him like little else could that it really was his brother and not the shifter. "How about you?" He tapped his brother's casted arm lightly.

Dean shrugged. "Still in one piece." He smirked at the disbelief on his brother's face. "Well I will be." He looked up when Bobby came in the front door and raised a brow at the bags in his arms. "Shopping trip?"

"Thought I'd make you boys some more chili since the last batch ended up decoratin' the floor." Bobby grinned.

"Oh, man," Sam sighed and chuckled along with his brother.

"What?" Bobby looked between them and scowled. "You knockin' my chili?"

"Hell no." Dean rose from the couch with a grin and took Sam's arm, helping his brother up to his feet. "Your chili could come eat me in the middle of the night."

Sam laughed and held on to his brother. "We love your chili, Bobby."

"Yeah, we're just not fond of what it does to us." Dean ducked the swing Bobby sent to the back of his head with a laugh.

"Just for that, you're choppin' the damn onions." Bobby growled at them and went to the counter. He smiled and turned to watch his boys helping each other stand.

"Got a busted wing here, Bobby." Dean raised his casted arm and pointed to his brother. "Sam's on chopping duty."

"Awesome," Sam groaned but he smiled as they limped toward the small table in the kitchen and he lowered himself into a chair, stretching his sore leg out in front of him. Watching Dean annoy Bobby as he went through the bags and the good-natured jab the older man took at his brother's ribs helped settle the last of Sam's nerves. He caught the onion Dean tossed to him and resisted the urge to lob it at the back of his head. It might take a while before he wouldn't wake with the nightmare of Dean's snarling face over him but he would get there. He had before. He smiled and started peeling the onion with a lighter heart and a perfect excuse for the tears in the corners of his eyes.

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The End.