Rescue, Supernatural, NC-17
Jan. 28th, 2007 01:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Rescue
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean(overall), John, Bobby, Ellen, Dean/OMC, Sam/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3755
Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nanakomatsu, Nothing, Something, To Be Good, Broken, To Be Strong,Nothing, No One, Alone, Yours, Mine, Better, Choice, Gathering, Betrayal, Taken, Remember, Training, Conflagration, Setting Up, Surviving and Pretending.
Summary: The hunters come in hot and heavy...and together they try to handle the ramifications of the day's work...
A/Ns and Warnings: Very dark. Includes torture and rape and very dark violence.
The gun in his hand was hot and heavy. All around him men were dead and dying. His team moved through the hallway, clearing each room, each suite one at a time. John stalked the hall, taking responsibility for executing anyone that survived the initial assault. He couldn’t ask that of anyone else. Half way down the hall, they’d rescued four slaves, three women and a young man who couldn’t have been twenty. They huddled into themselves at the end of the hall, but John didn’t have time to think about them.
“John!” He turned as his name was called, climbing over the limbs of the man he’d just shot and jogging toward the voice. They’d used a small explosive charge to blow the doors and there was a strong smell of ozone in the air. Black charred the white carpet was littered with bits of wood and the doors themselves lay to either side.
There was movement to his right and John lifted the gun. The door fell away and under it…it was everything he could do not to pull the trigger. “Secure him.” John said, his jaw tight as Robert lifted his head, his face pale, his eyes wide. “Don’t kill him, his father wants a word with him.”
His eyes scanned the room. They had to be here. This was the location Gabe had given him after the last pinging of the bug. “Dean! Sam!” There was no answer. Slowly, he and two of his team moved into the room. There was no way out but the front door from what they could tell. That meant they were here. He tried to calm the fear beating through him and concentrate of finding his boys.
Dean pushed himself up to sitting, rubbing at the back of his head where it had connected with the wall. James was pacing in front of him. “Fuck.”
It was more emotion than Dean could remember ever seeing out of his master. “You betrayed me slave.” He came to stand over Dean, the knife twitching in his hand. “How?”
Dean shook his head. “No sir…no master. I came back to you.” He moved shakily on to his knees.
“I never should have let Gorlian goad me into this. I knew you were too hot. Should have killed your brother for real. Should have bled your father in the streets.”
Dean shook. “I belong to you. I am nothing. No one. Alone.”
James fisted his hand in Dean’s hair and held the knife to his throat. “That’s right slave. You are nothing.”
He was stalling and he knew James knew it. James was going to kill him. Dean didn’t question that…but maybe…if he kept him here long enough, their father would find Sam and take him away…make him safe. Dean lifted his head, pressing his throat forward against the edge of the knife, offering himself up to James. “If I had time, I’d fuck you and leave you filled with my come so your father would know exactly what you are.” James said fiercely. There were noises in the next room.
His thumb pressed into Dean’s mouth. “But you know what you are, don’t you? You know the feeling of my cock in that pretty mouth. Too bad I didn’t get to use that slave brother of yours. I’d like to have compared you. I’ll bet his ass is sweet…and I’ll bet he’d be a willing cock sucker…don’t you think, slave?”
Dean felt the anger in the pit of his stomach…slowly uncoiling, burning. “Not even eighty hours…and he was mine. Makes you proud, you know? I was looking forward to instructing him…even if he was going to end up with that fuckwad.”
Dean had to bite his lip to keep from reacting. The knife was scraping lightly across his Adam’s apple. “Gorlian…really, this mess is because he couldn’t resist the temptation of taking down the mighty Winchesters.” James snorted and backed off a step. The bedroom door was bolted and he’d shoved the armoire in front of it. Even if they came, it wouldn’t be in time.
James turned and looked at Dean. “You know, your friend out there? He bargained his way out of training…if you can believe that. We caught him in Vegas. Got him, fucked him and marked him…and Gorlian happened to be visiting the intake facility, watched as the processors inventoried his things…found a picture of you boys.”
Dean dared a glance up. James wasn’t looking. He shifted his legs, urging feeling back into them. His head hurt, and his vision was still a little off, but…he watched James move back toward him, tracking the knife in his hand. “He let the weasel bargain…trade his freedom for information. Then he got greedy and demanded payment…demanded your brother…Oh…not that he didn’t earn it. There were the two girls in Vegas, and he wasn’t wrong about you.”
James was in his face again, the knife scraping over the skin of his chin. Dean breathed slowly. James leaned down. “I’m going to cut you up, slave…leave you in little pieces by the time they break in here.”
“Sam?” The voice was deep, familiar and it pulled at Sam’s thoughts, tugged him up from the dark. “Sam…come on…” There was a desperation there in the tones…a desperation that didn’t seem normal for that voice. Sam’s eyes opened slowly, focusing on the face in front of him. “That’s it, Son. Look at me.”
“Dad.” Sam started as he realized trying to cover himself, fold himself ups as tight as he could. “No…please, just don’t look.”
“It’s okay, Sam. I’ve got you.”
“No…no…please….I don’t want you to see…please…”
His father huffed and looked away, nodding. “Okay…I’m going to get you out of—“
“Dean!” Sam stiffened, his eyes darting around the room. “Dean…where’s Dean?”
“Sam, one thing at a time. Let’s get you to safety.”
“No. Not without Dean. He came for me.” Sam clawed at his father’s arm, trying to get up enough to see around the room. His eyes fell on Robert, bound and gagged and kneeling nearby. “Dean…and Caleb….you have to find Caleb.”
John’s hand caressed Sam’s head. “It’s okay, Sam. We’ve got people looking for Caleb.”
Sam’s whole body shook He had to be better…he had to pull himself together…had to find Dean. “M-m-James…he has to have Dean.” His eyes fell on the door that James had come out of. “In there.”
John looked over his shoulder at the door and nodded. “Okay. Stay here.” He stood and pulled his jacket off, settling it over Sam. “Guys.” John indicated the door and one of them men standing over Robert move to it.
“Locked.” He lifted a gun and aimed it at the door knob. Two shots and the knob was gone, but the door still didn’t budge. “He’s blocked it.”
“Blow it.”
Dean closed his eyes and reached inside him. His body remembered, even if his mind was still a little weak on the details…He knelt submissive and waiting for James to carry out his threat…for his hand to move. He even let the first kiss of the blade over his jaw line bleed while James chose his next target.
When Dean did move, it startled them both, his hand closing over James’s wrist and pulling, twisting. His other hand swept out and punched his knee, bringing him crashing down. Dean was on his feet then, the knife in his free hand. James was struggling, cursing. He kicked him, letting go of the wrist to grab his hair and put the knife against his throat. “What makes you think I was ever going to let you inside him?” Dean asked through clenched teeth. “He never did belong to you.”
“Let go of me, slave. Remember your place.”
“My name is Dean Winchester, fucker. And I know my place. Get up.”
“You belong to me slave. You are nothing. You are—“ Dean shoved the knife into his side.
“Save it.” Dean pulled the knife free. Two gunshots echoed through the armoire. He cut through the linen of James’s pants, the metal of the knife slipping over the pale skin of his ass. “Ever had someone shove something up your ass, Master?” His heart was hammering in his chest. The anger, the rage he had let loose before was burning through him…He shoved and James screamed, and blood poured out over his fingers as the hilt of the blade stopped against his skin.
James bent forward, trying to escape the blade, blood soaking his white pants and carpet as Dean pulled it out and shoved it back in.
The armoire exploded and Dean staggered backward, pulling James with him. As the dust cleared, James sagged forward and Dean lost his grip on him. He was covered in blood as his father’s figure filled the door. “Dean?”
Dean nodded, staggered to James and fell to his knees beside him. “Dean, it’s okay. Let us handle him.”
Dean rolled James over, his face cold. The bloody knife tore the front of his pants open and made quick work of his dick. Dean lifted it, held it where James could see it…and he watched as James bled out.
“Dean.”
Strong arms were around him, holding him, pulling him away. “Sam? Sam?”
“He’s okay, Dean. He’s safe. Give me the knife.”
Dean looked at the bloody knife and up at his father. “Dad?”
His father nodded, his hand closing over the knife and stripping it out of his hand. “Yeah, Dean…Come on…”
Dean shook his head. The blood on his hands burned. He wiped it against his naked body. He killed master…His eyes caught on James’s face…the look of disbelief… the spattering of blood. “No…no…I…he’s dead…he’s dead….what…” He staggered to his knees, only then realizing he still held the man’s dick in his hand. “I cut him…I….cut him.”
Bad. Wrong. Bad. Never hurt master. Never hurt master. Dean keened and rocked forward, dropping the bloody flesh from his hand. Punishment…but there was no punishment for this…there was only death…he killed his Master….
“Dean?” His father was trying to move him, his voice distant.
“Dean!” Sam’s voice carried over the noise of others, of his father and Dean shook and couldn’t breathe, but he lifted his head.
“Sam!”
“Take me….take me too him.” Dean gasped, lurching toward his father. “Need to see.”
John lifted him to his feet and Dean tried to help them move, but his limbs were numb and his head hurt…”Sam.” He gasped at the sight of his brother, reaching for him as his father slowly let him down onto the floor beside him. “Sam.”
Dean’s arms folded around Sam and pulled him against him. “My Sam.”
Sam relaxed visibly once Dean had his arms around him and John breathed a sigh of relief. His earphone crackled and he turned away from the boys. “Team W. Mission success. Target acquired.”
Ellen’s voice filled his ear. “Are they…?”
“They’re alive. We have…Robert.”
“The floor is clean.” John looked up at the hunter, Peter something. He met John’s eyes. “We rescued eight prisoners on this floor. Everyone else is dead.”
John nodded and sighed. “Time for us to pull out…leave the clean up to the demolition team.” He turned to his boys, huddled into one another. “Bring me a med kit and some blankets. We’ll need stretchers.”
“What about him?” Peter nodded at Robert.
“Bobby will want to deal with him. Take him out of here, and keep him under guard.”
Someone handed him a med kit and he took it. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like a few minutes with my boys.”
The suite emptied slowly and John went to kneel beside Dean. They were both only semi-conscious, but he wasn’t going to take any chances that they would wake up and freak out. He needed to get them to safety. Dean’s eyes drifted open and looked at him.
“I’m going to give you both a little something, okay?”
“Sam first.” Dean whispered and John nodded.
“Okay.” Sam didn’t move as the needle bit into his arm, and John tried not to let that hurt as much as it did. “You’re turn.” Dean watched the needle sink into his arm. “You were so brave Dean. I’m so proud of you.” John’s hand caressed his face as Dean relaxed and his eyes closed again. “When you wake up, we’ll be someplace safe…”
Caleb looked up as the door opened. He’d been forgotten, left alone since Sam had been taken away. He was grateful for the respite, but worried…afraid for Sam. He blinked as the lights came up and Gordon stood there in front of him. “Control, we found Caleb. Final sweep of the lower floors commencing.”
Gordon moved closer. “Okay, Caleb. I’m gonna get you out of here.” His hands followed the chains down to the shackles and carefully loosened them. “Easy, okay…move slow….your back’s a mess.”
Caleb’s arms fell to the ground as Gordon released them, heavy and hurting and he could feel the strain on the scabbed over wounds in his back. His jaw worked as Gordon removed the gag. “Sam,” he croaked the name out, looking up at Gordon.
“John’s gone after him. Can you move?”
Caleb shook his head. His legs were numb. “No. Help me sit.” Gordon supported him as he shifted so that he was sitting on his ass, then slowly straightened his legs for him. “Give me a minute.”
“I don’t know that we have one. Charges have already been set. We need to move.”
Caleb nodded. Gordon was not the man he would have preferred to find him, but then again, the man was good at what he did, even if his ethics were questionable.
Gordon looked up as one of his team appeared at the door. “This is one of ours, get him out and up to a medic. I’ll finish the sweep on this floor.”
Caleb let the man help him up and support him, but stopped him at the door. “Gordon. I—thank you.”
Gordon smiled and lifted his gun to his shoulder. “Don’t mention it. I’ll let you pay me back sometime.”
Bobby emerged into the sunlight, squinting a little as he rubbed the soot from his face. His team moved on ahead, dispersing as the charges started to rock the ground and more people emerged from the various entrances to the building.
He spotted John, following two stretchers. His heart fell to his stomach. If those boys were dead…if his son had gotten those two boys killed…John would never speak to him again…not after…Robert was going to have to pay…and Bobby would be the one to extract the price…because John was too good a friend, and those boys were too dear to him not to.
He saw John stop, turning his way. Something in his stride told Bobby they’d found Robert. His stomach turned and it was hard for him to turn to face John as he approached. “Are they…?”
John shook his head lightly. “They’re alive. Sam’s….shit…” John stopped and doubled over, breathing heavily. “They’re alive. That’s what matters.”
Bobby nodded. His voice was cold when he spoke again. “And Robert?”
John straightened up. “He’s secure.”
“Where is he?”
“Not yet, Bobby.”
“What do you mean?” He wanted it t to be over. He wanted it to end. He looked up at his friend, into his eyes. Of course, even when he’d handled Robert it wasn’t going to be over.
“Not today, Bobby. He’s secure. We have the boys. There’s been a lot of blood shed today.”
Bobby bowed his head. “I won’t wait long.”
John nodded. “For now, let’s take care of the wounded…get out of here before the authorities show up.”
Bobby watched John walk away, felt the heat as the fire started to consume the building at his back. Part of him wished it would consume him too.
The motel room had been turned into something of a triage, with wounded hunters being tended by others, the smell of blood and antiseptic strong in the air. It was only one of the rooms set up to handle first aid. Ellen slipped in, her eyes scanning the room. She found Caleb laying on the bed, his back being cleaned.
“I was worried.” Ellen said, her hand sliding down to let him grip it was the medic cleaned a nasty looking gash.
He breathed through the pain and tried to smile for her. “Someone had to get inside.”
“Right.” She licked her lips and forced her eyes away from his back. “How are you doing?”
He nodded. “I’ll be okay….Just tell me they found Sam.”
“He’s in another room, Doc Brays is with him.”
“He okay?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.”
“God, the things they did to him.” Caleb made a pained whimper and bit the pillow under his face. “They…made me…watch…”
She closed her eyes and brushed a hand over his arm. She’d never tell him that she’d seen…that she knew exactly what they’d done to Sam. “Shh…easy, Caleb. You couldn’t have done anything.”
He looked up at her. “No…he…they used me to break him, Ellen. He let them do…things…so they wouldn’t hurt me.” His voice cracked. “John…god, he’s going to hate me…”
“John’s got bigger worries right now Caleb. He knows you tried to help….He knows…”
Caleb yelled as the medic poured antiseptic onto his back. “Go check on Sam. I need to know he’s okay.”
“Yeah, alright. I’ll be back.” She kissed his forehead, and left the room.
Three doors down, she let herself into the room, and pressed herself against the door. Dean was stretched out on the nearest bed, his welted back exposed over the blankets. On the other bed, Sam was laying on his right side, his left leg obviously broken and laying on several pillows.
John sat with his son’s head in his lap, his hands smoothing over his hair while Doc Brays examined him. Not an actual doctor, he was the closest thing they had…a former marine medic and veterinarian who had been stitching up the hunter community for years. “I’m going to have to set the leg. It’s a pretty bad break.”
She saw John nod. “The rest…I won’t lie to you, he’s beat up bad. But there isn’t much we can do. Rest, something for the pain…and time.” Doc Brays backed off a pace and reached for his bag. “I’m going to need to gather some supplies for the leg.”
Ellen moved out of his way, then hesitantly closer to the beds. “Anything I can do?”
John shook his head, his eyes closed. She came to stand beside him, her hand stroking through his hair in echo of his in Sam’s. “I’m here…okay?”
He didn’t answer, just leaned into her, his head against her stomach. “I’m right here.”
Title: Rescue
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean(overall), John, Bobby, Ellen, Dean/OMC, Sam/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3755
Summary: A sequel to Anything which was a Christmas request from
nanakomatsu, Nothing, Something, To Be Good, Broken, To Be Strong,Nothing, No One, Alone, Yours, Mine, Better, Choice, Gathering, Betrayal, Taken, Remember, Training, Conflagration, Setting Up, Surviving and Pretending. Summary: The hunters come in hot and heavy...and together they try to handle the ramifications of the day's work...
A/Ns and Warnings: Very dark. Includes torture and rape and very dark violence.
The gun in his hand was hot and heavy. All around him men were dead and dying. His team moved through the hallway, clearing each room, each suite one at a time. John stalked the hall, taking responsibility for executing anyone that survived the initial assault. He couldn’t ask that of anyone else. Half way down the hall, they’d rescued four slaves, three women and a young man who couldn’t have been twenty. They huddled into themselves at the end of the hall, but John didn’t have time to think about them.
“John!” He turned as his name was called, climbing over the limbs of the man he’d just shot and jogging toward the voice. They’d used a small explosive charge to blow the doors and there was a strong smell of ozone in the air. Black charred the white carpet was littered with bits of wood and the doors themselves lay to either side.
There was movement to his right and John lifted the gun. The door fell away and under it…it was everything he could do not to pull the trigger. “Secure him.” John said, his jaw tight as Robert lifted his head, his face pale, his eyes wide. “Don’t kill him, his father wants a word with him.”
His eyes scanned the room. They had to be here. This was the location Gabe had given him after the last pinging of the bug. “Dean! Sam!” There was no answer. Slowly, he and two of his team moved into the room. There was no way out but the front door from what they could tell. That meant they were here. He tried to calm the fear beating through him and concentrate of finding his boys.
Dean pushed himself up to sitting, rubbing at the back of his head where it had connected with the wall. James was pacing in front of him. “Fuck.”
It was more emotion than Dean could remember ever seeing out of his master. “You betrayed me slave.” He came to stand over Dean, the knife twitching in his hand. “How?”
Dean shook his head. “No sir…no master. I came back to you.” He moved shakily on to his knees.
“I never should have let Gorlian goad me into this. I knew you were too hot. Should have killed your brother for real. Should have bled your father in the streets.”
Dean shook. “I belong to you. I am nothing. No one. Alone.”
James fisted his hand in Dean’s hair and held the knife to his throat. “That’s right slave. You are nothing.”
He was stalling and he knew James knew it. James was going to kill him. Dean didn’t question that…but maybe…if he kept him here long enough, their father would find Sam and take him away…make him safe. Dean lifted his head, pressing his throat forward against the edge of the knife, offering himself up to James. “If I had time, I’d fuck you and leave you filled with my come so your father would know exactly what you are.” James said fiercely. There were noises in the next room.
His thumb pressed into Dean’s mouth. “But you know what you are, don’t you? You know the feeling of my cock in that pretty mouth. Too bad I didn’t get to use that slave brother of yours. I’d like to have compared you. I’ll bet his ass is sweet…and I’ll bet he’d be a willing cock sucker…don’t you think, slave?”
Dean felt the anger in the pit of his stomach…slowly uncoiling, burning. “Not even eighty hours…and he was mine. Makes you proud, you know? I was looking forward to instructing him…even if he was going to end up with that fuckwad.”
Dean had to bite his lip to keep from reacting. The knife was scraping lightly across his Adam’s apple. “Gorlian…really, this mess is because he couldn’t resist the temptation of taking down the mighty Winchesters.” James snorted and backed off a step. The bedroom door was bolted and he’d shoved the armoire in front of it. Even if they came, it wouldn’t be in time.
James turned and looked at Dean. “You know, your friend out there? He bargained his way out of training…if you can believe that. We caught him in Vegas. Got him, fucked him and marked him…and Gorlian happened to be visiting the intake facility, watched as the processors inventoried his things…found a picture of you boys.”
Dean dared a glance up. James wasn’t looking. He shifted his legs, urging feeling back into them. His head hurt, and his vision was still a little off, but…he watched James move back toward him, tracking the knife in his hand. “He let the weasel bargain…trade his freedom for information. Then he got greedy and demanded payment…demanded your brother…Oh…not that he didn’t earn it. There were the two girls in Vegas, and he wasn’t wrong about you.”
James was in his face again, the knife scraping over the skin of his chin. Dean breathed slowly. James leaned down. “I’m going to cut you up, slave…leave you in little pieces by the time they break in here.”
“Sam?” The voice was deep, familiar and it pulled at Sam’s thoughts, tugged him up from the dark. “Sam…come on…” There was a desperation there in the tones…a desperation that didn’t seem normal for that voice. Sam’s eyes opened slowly, focusing on the face in front of him. “That’s it, Son. Look at me.”
“Dad.” Sam started as he realized trying to cover himself, fold himself ups as tight as he could. “No…please, just don’t look.”
“It’s okay, Sam. I’ve got you.”
“No…no…please….I don’t want you to see…please…”
His father huffed and looked away, nodding. “Okay…I’m going to get you out of—“
“Dean!” Sam stiffened, his eyes darting around the room. “Dean…where’s Dean?”
“Sam, one thing at a time. Let’s get you to safety.”
“No. Not without Dean. He came for me.” Sam clawed at his father’s arm, trying to get up enough to see around the room. His eyes fell on Robert, bound and gagged and kneeling nearby. “Dean…and Caleb….you have to find Caleb.”
John’s hand caressed Sam’s head. “It’s okay, Sam. We’ve got people looking for Caleb.”
Sam’s whole body shook He had to be better…he had to pull himself together…had to find Dean. “M-m-James…he has to have Dean.” His eyes fell on the door that James had come out of. “In there.”
John looked over his shoulder at the door and nodded. “Okay. Stay here.” He stood and pulled his jacket off, settling it over Sam. “Guys.” John indicated the door and one of them men standing over Robert move to it.
“Locked.” He lifted a gun and aimed it at the door knob. Two shots and the knob was gone, but the door still didn’t budge. “He’s blocked it.”
“Blow it.”
Dean closed his eyes and reached inside him. His body remembered, even if his mind was still a little weak on the details…He knelt submissive and waiting for James to carry out his threat…for his hand to move. He even let the first kiss of the blade over his jaw line bleed while James chose his next target.
When Dean did move, it startled them both, his hand closing over James’s wrist and pulling, twisting. His other hand swept out and punched his knee, bringing him crashing down. Dean was on his feet then, the knife in his free hand. James was struggling, cursing. He kicked him, letting go of the wrist to grab his hair and put the knife against his throat. “What makes you think I was ever going to let you inside him?” Dean asked through clenched teeth. “He never did belong to you.”
“Let go of me, slave. Remember your place.”
“My name is Dean Winchester, fucker. And I know my place. Get up.”
“You belong to me slave. You are nothing. You are—“ Dean shoved the knife into his side.
“Save it.” Dean pulled the knife free. Two gunshots echoed through the armoire. He cut through the linen of James’s pants, the metal of the knife slipping over the pale skin of his ass. “Ever had someone shove something up your ass, Master?” His heart was hammering in his chest. The anger, the rage he had let loose before was burning through him…He shoved and James screamed, and blood poured out over his fingers as the hilt of the blade stopped against his skin.
James bent forward, trying to escape the blade, blood soaking his white pants and carpet as Dean pulled it out and shoved it back in.
The armoire exploded and Dean staggered backward, pulling James with him. As the dust cleared, James sagged forward and Dean lost his grip on him. He was covered in blood as his father’s figure filled the door. “Dean?”
Dean nodded, staggered to James and fell to his knees beside him. “Dean, it’s okay. Let us handle him.”
Dean rolled James over, his face cold. The bloody knife tore the front of his pants open and made quick work of his dick. Dean lifted it, held it where James could see it…and he watched as James bled out.
“Dean.”
Strong arms were around him, holding him, pulling him away. “Sam? Sam?”
“He’s okay, Dean. He’s safe. Give me the knife.”
Dean looked at the bloody knife and up at his father. “Dad?”
His father nodded, his hand closing over the knife and stripping it out of his hand. “Yeah, Dean…Come on…”
Dean shook his head. The blood on his hands burned. He wiped it against his naked body. He killed master…His eyes caught on James’s face…the look of disbelief… the spattering of blood. “No…no…I…he’s dead…he’s dead….what…” He staggered to his knees, only then realizing he still held the man’s dick in his hand. “I cut him…I….cut him.”
Bad. Wrong. Bad. Never hurt master. Never hurt master. Dean keened and rocked forward, dropping the bloody flesh from his hand. Punishment…but there was no punishment for this…there was only death…he killed his Master….
“Dean?” His father was trying to move him, his voice distant.
“Dean!” Sam’s voice carried over the noise of others, of his father and Dean shook and couldn’t breathe, but he lifted his head.
“Sam!”
“Take me….take me too him.” Dean gasped, lurching toward his father. “Need to see.”
John lifted him to his feet and Dean tried to help them move, but his limbs were numb and his head hurt…”Sam.” He gasped at the sight of his brother, reaching for him as his father slowly let him down onto the floor beside him. “Sam.”
Dean’s arms folded around Sam and pulled him against him. “My Sam.”
Sam relaxed visibly once Dean had his arms around him and John breathed a sigh of relief. His earphone crackled and he turned away from the boys. “Team W. Mission success. Target acquired.”
Ellen’s voice filled his ear. “Are they…?”
“They’re alive. We have…Robert.”
“The floor is clean.” John looked up at the hunter, Peter something. He met John’s eyes. “We rescued eight prisoners on this floor. Everyone else is dead.”
John nodded and sighed. “Time for us to pull out…leave the clean up to the demolition team.” He turned to his boys, huddled into one another. “Bring me a med kit and some blankets. We’ll need stretchers.”
“What about him?” Peter nodded at Robert.
“Bobby will want to deal with him. Take him out of here, and keep him under guard.”
Someone handed him a med kit and he took it. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like a few minutes with my boys.”
The suite emptied slowly and John went to kneel beside Dean. They were both only semi-conscious, but he wasn’t going to take any chances that they would wake up and freak out. He needed to get them to safety. Dean’s eyes drifted open and looked at him.
“I’m going to give you both a little something, okay?”
“Sam first.” Dean whispered and John nodded.
“Okay.” Sam didn’t move as the needle bit into his arm, and John tried not to let that hurt as much as it did. “You’re turn.” Dean watched the needle sink into his arm. “You were so brave Dean. I’m so proud of you.” John’s hand caressed his face as Dean relaxed and his eyes closed again. “When you wake up, we’ll be someplace safe…”
Caleb looked up as the door opened. He’d been forgotten, left alone since Sam had been taken away. He was grateful for the respite, but worried…afraid for Sam. He blinked as the lights came up and Gordon stood there in front of him. “Control, we found Caleb. Final sweep of the lower floors commencing.”
Gordon moved closer. “Okay, Caleb. I’m gonna get you out of here.” His hands followed the chains down to the shackles and carefully loosened them. “Easy, okay…move slow….your back’s a mess.”
Caleb’s arms fell to the ground as Gordon released them, heavy and hurting and he could feel the strain on the scabbed over wounds in his back. His jaw worked as Gordon removed the gag. “Sam,” he croaked the name out, looking up at Gordon.
“John’s gone after him. Can you move?”
Caleb shook his head. His legs were numb. “No. Help me sit.” Gordon supported him as he shifted so that he was sitting on his ass, then slowly straightened his legs for him. “Give me a minute.”
“I don’t know that we have one. Charges have already been set. We need to move.”
Caleb nodded. Gordon was not the man he would have preferred to find him, but then again, the man was good at what he did, even if his ethics were questionable.
Gordon looked up as one of his team appeared at the door. “This is one of ours, get him out and up to a medic. I’ll finish the sweep on this floor.”
Caleb let the man help him up and support him, but stopped him at the door. “Gordon. I—thank you.”
Gordon smiled and lifted his gun to his shoulder. “Don’t mention it. I’ll let you pay me back sometime.”
Bobby emerged into the sunlight, squinting a little as he rubbed the soot from his face. His team moved on ahead, dispersing as the charges started to rock the ground and more people emerged from the various entrances to the building.
He spotted John, following two stretchers. His heart fell to his stomach. If those boys were dead…if his son had gotten those two boys killed…John would never speak to him again…not after…Robert was going to have to pay…and Bobby would be the one to extract the price…because John was too good a friend, and those boys were too dear to him not to.
He saw John stop, turning his way. Something in his stride told Bobby they’d found Robert. His stomach turned and it was hard for him to turn to face John as he approached. “Are they…?”
John shook his head lightly. “They’re alive. Sam’s….shit…” John stopped and doubled over, breathing heavily. “They’re alive. That’s what matters.”
Bobby nodded. His voice was cold when he spoke again. “And Robert?”
John straightened up. “He’s secure.”
“Where is he?”
“Not yet, Bobby.”
“What do you mean?” He wanted it t to be over. He wanted it to end. He looked up at his friend, into his eyes. Of course, even when he’d handled Robert it wasn’t going to be over.
“Not today, Bobby. He’s secure. We have the boys. There’s been a lot of blood shed today.”
Bobby bowed his head. “I won’t wait long.”
John nodded. “For now, let’s take care of the wounded…get out of here before the authorities show up.”
Bobby watched John walk away, felt the heat as the fire started to consume the building at his back. Part of him wished it would consume him too.
The motel room had been turned into something of a triage, with wounded hunters being tended by others, the smell of blood and antiseptic strong in the air. It was only one of the rooms set up to handle first aid. Ellen slipped in, her eyes scanning the room. She found Caleb laying on the bed, his back being cleaned.
“I was worried.” Ellen said, her hand sliding down to let him grip it was the medic cleaned a nasty looking gash.
He breathed through the pain and tried to smile for her. “Someone had to get inside.”
“Right.” She licked her lips and forced her eyes away from his back. “How are you doing?”
He nodded. “I’ll be okay….Just tell me they found Sam.”
“He’s in another room, Doc Brays is with him.”
“He okay?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.”
“God, the things they did to him.” Caleb made a pained whimper and bit the pillow under his face. “They…made me…watch…”
She closed her eyes and brushed a hand over his arm. She’d never tell him that she’d seen…that she knew exactly what they’d done to Sam. “Shh…easy, Caleb. You couldn’t have done anything.”
He looked up at her. “No…he…they used me to break him, Ellen. He let them do…things…so they wouldn’t hurt me.” His voice cracked. “John…god, he’s going to hate me…”
“John’s got bigger worries right now Caleb. He knows you tried to help….He knows…”
Caleb yelled as the medic poured antiseptic onto his back. “Go check on Sam. I need to know he’s okay.”
“Yeah, alright. I’ll be back.” She kissed his forehead, and left the room.
Three doors down, she let herself into the room, and pressed herself against the door. Dean was stretched out on the nearest bed, his welted back exposed over the blankets. On the other bed, Sam was laying on his right side, his left leg obviously broken and laying on several pillows.
John sat with his son’s head in his lap, his hands smoothing over his hair while Doc Brays examined him. Not an actual doctor, he was the closest thing they had…a former marine medic and veterinarian who had been stitching up the hunter community for years. “I’m going to have to set the leg. It’s a pretty bad break.”
She saw John nod. “The rest…I won’t lie to you, he’s beat up bad. But there isn’t much we can do. Rest, something for the pain…and time.” Doc Brays backed off a pace and reached for his bag. “I’m going to need to gather some supplies for the leg.”
Ellen moved out of his way, then hesitantly closer to the beds. “Anything I can do?”
John shook his head, his eyes closed. She came to stand beside him, her hand stroking through his hair in echo of his in Sam’s. “I’m here…okay?”
He didn’t answer, just leaned into her, his head against her stomach. “I’m right here.”
