Sam all but ran to the car. His hands were shaking and the he was taking harsh breaths. All the emotions he had held tightly wound in front of Dean threatened to come out, but he had to hold on, had to remain calm, or at least appear that way. The last thing he needed was to look like an addict when he was going to buy syringes for fuckssake! ‘But you are an addict’ a voice in the back of his head piped up. He squashed it.
At Wallmart he got himself chains and locks, something sturdier to keep his brother tied. He also got salt and a rosary so he could bless some water: better to be prepared.
At the pharmacy he managed to get the syringes, despite the long stare he got and a skeptical look at his falsified papers.
There was another issue. He wasn’t sure how well his blood would work. It was mostly human, yes, but it was also tainted, always would be, but now even more with how much of Dean’s blood he had consumed. Fresh human blood would be a safer bet and wouldn’t leave him dizzy and weak from blood loss.
But there was no way he had the time and opportunity to find and break into a blood bank right now.
There was of course another option… which did not bare thinking about, yet… He couldn’t kill Dean, physically it didn’t seem possible (and honestly, Sam was glad he did not have that option), so it was either cure him or let him run free. Letting him run free would mean carnage: countless people would die, Sam needed to get this right.
He hesitated. What he thought of doing was fucking terrible, but for Dean, he’d do anything. The impala had all the tools necessary. It was getting late.
He found a bar, mostly office buildings around it, a convenient alley to the side. where he parked his car. He waited. Scouted a girl coming out. Alone, clearly tipsy, a bit young, a bit trashy. He made his move. He said hi, told her he was considering checking out that bar, asked if it was fun and if so if she knew where he could put his car. You see it was very expensive and special to him, been passed on from his dad, he didn’t want it damaged. He flirted a little, put just enough sincerity in. He didn’t even have to insist, she asked to see the car.
Overpowering her was much easier than it should have been. The right grip and she passed right out in his arms. Then handcuffs and gag. Lay her on the backseat. Drive her to a deserted place. Terrified eyes staring at him as she came to. Terror of someone knowing they are about to die, he knew it well, but usually not directed at him.
He told her all he was going to do was take some of her blood. Of course she didn’t believe him, but he still had to say it for his own frame of mind. He was careful, but the first pricks still went astray as she struggled. Eventually she stopped, realizing she was hurting herself. He tapped at much as he could without putting her in mortal danger and it was clear she was getting weak and woozy, no longer fighting him.
Done, he brought her back to the bar and left her in the alleyway, uncuffing her and getting the hell out of there before he took off the gag and started screaming for help.
He allowed himself to sob behind the wheel on his way back to the motel, but his face was determined again when he got back.
He walked back into the room 5 hours after he had left it.
Dean was left tied, not sure what he could do like this. He felt horrible. He had lost because of his trust towards Sammy. His love and trust was what made him so miserable as human and his trust was what led him to turn to this. Like a damn mouse who had been caught in a trap.
All those years of pain and disappointment weren't worth anything in the end. His little brother would always leave him alone. He would always judge him, he would always tell him he wasn't enough. That he had been wrong, that he had let him down. Nothing was enough for Sam to accept him. Nothing he would do would make the little one proud. Happy or grateful. Their own father which had him for his favorite son had realized that early. ‘Kill him’ he had said, and those were the most wise words he had ever told him.
Sammy was toxic, and Dean had to realize that. Now, or never. When he'd have his hands free, he'd make sure that the first thing he'd do, was to put an end to this parody.
His call for an angel to appear had seemed pointless at first. Until a beautiful blue-eyed woman appeared in front of him, and he knew he had a chance to get free. He knew her. Hannah, wasn't it? A friend of Cas.
A lot of questions were made by her side for answers she didn't really want to know. Where Cas was and the reason she couldn't find him. Why Cas didn't answer her calls and the reason he had disappeared when he was looking for Dean. She could see through his lies and no matter how bad he tried, he couldn't make a deal with her. She was smarter than he had thought.
She moved to grab Castiel's phone from his pocket, and with that her angel blade got out. Grateful she was going to cut the rope, instead she used the blade to slice his chest. ‘You should have died.’ So she had fallen for Cas. How sweet, but so pathetic. She wanted revenge but she couldn't kill him. She couldn't make him suffer as she would have wished.
Dean only groaned in pain and the realization that he was quickly healing, disappointed her. Keeping Castiel's phone, she took a few steps back. She sat down and stayed there to watch over Dean. She said she wanted to make sure that Sam's plan would work and he'd be able to cure him, so she could properly torture him later.
He couldn't even make an attempt to make the rope a little looser. His plan to escape had turned against him.
When they both heard the car parking, she sighed softly, as she stood up, disappearing in seconds, leaving Dean with a ripped and bloody shirt and a healed wound.
