… and bring the bolt cutter!

Sam shifted in his sleep. Some noise screwed its way into his dreams, drawing him to consciousness. Where the pain waited. Bruises weren't life threatening but they hurt like hell and maybe it was time for another dose of painkillers. Or he could just return to sleep which looked like the better option. Less moving around for that one. Burying his head deeper in the pillow Sam tried to sleep through the noise but it persisted and with every repeating it got louder. Finally Sam's foggy mind identified the noise. A phone. Ringing.

"Dean." Sam mumbled into his pillow. "Phone."

Half asleep he waited for Dean to take care of it but the ringing didn't stop. And he didn't hear anything indicating that his brother would do anything about it in the near future. With a sigh Sam rolled to his side and squinted to the other bed. The light from the phone on the nightstand was enough to make out the bed. With no brother inside.

"Dean?" Sam's voice cracked and he pushed himself up on one elbow. Slowly the memories came back. Dean had dosed him up with painkillers, tucked him in and then went out to raise some cash.

And the phone still rang. A little blurry to his eyes "Dean" stood in bold letters on the display. With a sigh Sam answered the call.

"If you want me to pick you up in the middle of the night ..." He began but was interrupted immediately.

"Sam!" Came Dean's voice out of the speaker. "Thank, God."

And instantly Sam was on high alert. Dean's voice was strained like he was in pain and he sounded far away like his phone wasn't right next to his mouth.

"Dean, what happened?" In his mind Sam ran any scenario he could think of. Dean had been out to a bar so maybe he'd pissed off the wrong guy. Or something supernatural got him. Or …

"Where are you?" Sam asked before Dean had time to answer his first question. With the phone sandwiched between his chin and his shoulder Sam fought with his jeans.

Dean rattled off an address but he sounded farther away with every word.

"Sam, hurry!" Dean yelled and then there was a cluttering sound. "... and bring the bolt cutter!"

"The what?" Sam adjusted the phone but the line was dead. "Dean?"

Sam dealt Dean's number and the phone rang, however, Dean didn't answer. After a few rings Sam cut the line because he feared that the noise could endanger Dean farther.

"Dammit, Dean." He muttered and finished dressing. Besides the address Dean hadn't given him anything to go by. Was this something supernatural? Was Dean hurt? And why the hell was he asking for a bolt cutter? Was he chained up somewhere?

While he checked the route to said address on his phone Sam made a mental list of the weapons he had with him in the room. A very short list. Dean had taken the Impala which left Sam with his gun and a silver knife and no wheels.

"Awesome." He channeled his big brother and tucked the gun in his waistband. At least the bar Dean had gone to was on his way so Sam hoped to find the Impala there or at the address. According to the map he had open it was in a residential neighborhood and not some abandoned warehouse or something like that. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.

"Who or what did you piss off this time, Dean?" Sam muttered and hurried down the street. At three in the morning the whole town seemed asleep and nobody noticed when Sam hot-wired a car. His battered body protested against the position he forced it into but Sam didn't even bother to adjust the seat. As long as his knees didn't hit his chin he was good.

The Impala wasn't at the bar … which meant what? Sam chewed his bottom lip. Dean had left the bar with his car so he most likely had picked up some girl. Which normally didn't pose a threat. Normally. Gritting his teeth Sam sped up.

Sam spotted the Impala as soon as he turned into the right street. Leaving his stolen car behind Sam made his way slowly down the street. He avoided the isles of light from the street lamps but he still felt the prickling in his neck. Behind every black window he expected somebody or something to watch him. Gun in hand he reached the Impala and peered inside. Empty but he hadn't expected to find his brother there. But now he had the arsenal at hand.

Still not knowing what he was dealing with Sam took everything. With a glance at the dark and silent house every other second Sam hurried to gather his things.

He reloaded his gun with iron rounds and tucked it back in his waistband. Then he got out a bag. A shotgun with rock salt shells, a machete, a flask with holy water, a little bag of salt, his dad's journal, lighter fluid and some matches went into the bag along with a few other things. And the bolt cutter of course.

Then Sam shut the trunk and turned to the house.

"I'm coming, Dean."

tbc