Chapter Text
No! Dean wanted to yell at John, Don't you dare take that gun off this bitch! That gun was keeping Millie's attention off of Sam and he was worried that the moment she could, Millie would turn the poker back on his brother. The stench of burned flesh was overpowering, especially since it was his baby brother's.
Millie watched in confidence as the older man complied with her command. So confident however, that she relaxed the grip on the poker moving it away from Dean. Faster than anyone could react John had aimed his gun and fired from his kneeling position on the floor. Millie screamed, falling over Dean's legs as the bullet tore through her. Sam had jumped from the shock of the shot, landing harshly on his shoulder and Dean heard it pop out, the stress from being bound so tightly behind him and the hard contact too much for it.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled, throwing himself towards his brother despite his wrists still being bound to the mantle. "Dammit Dad! Get these fucking cuffs off me!" He needed to get to Sam, he needed to stop his little brother's pain.
"I gotta find the keys first," but John was already ripping the room apart, looking for a tiny set of keys that would match the cuffs. Two minutes later and he was at his oldest side reaching for his wrists."Dammit Dean, you didn't need to mangle the hell out of your own wrists." But Dean wasn't listening, he was too busy watching Sam, murmuring words of comfort to his baby brother. The moment the cuffs were off, he launched himself to Sam, not caring that his legs were still bound together.
"Hey Sammy, hey. I'm here, I'm right here okay?" he soothed, cupping his brothers face as he moved to take the goddamn gag off his baby brother for the second fucking time. "You're gonna be alright, it's over."
"De'n," Sam rasped, his voice raw from screaming.
"Right here Sammy." keeping one hand on his cheek, Dean ran the other through Sam's hair, hoping to soothe the younger boy.
"H'rts."
"I know, but we're gonna get you out of here alright? Then we'll fix you up and maybe get a pizza." But Sam's eyes were losing focus, no longer able to stay on Dean for that long.
"Fuck, Dad!" He looked over his shoulder to see John had just finished cuffing Millie to the mantle, blood soaking her blouse from the bullet wound. I hope you suffer bitch. "Knife." the older hunter nodded, reaching into his boot to pull out a small knife before sliding it to Dean hilt first.
Quickly Dean cut through the ropes on Sam's wrists and ankles, slowly moving the limbs apart and rubbing them slightly to help the cramps. Because while Sam was being burned, he was also dealing with the cramps of being shoved in that goddamn box. The whimper of pain that his little brother released broke his heart but he couldn't do much about any of his injuries, at least not till they got to the Impala.
As soon as his hands were free, Sam reached out to grab Dean's amulet, the familiar metal molding into his small hand. "Right here Sammy, we're almost done." Moments later the ropes from around his brother's ankle's fell to the floor and Dean found his arms full of little brother, ignoring the chick flick moment to hold Sam as close as he could.
"Dean we need to go." Their dad said from behind them. Turning with his brother in his arms, Dean saw that John had bandaged Millie's wound, which did not go through her but scraped a line across her side, tearing the skin but nothing close to serious. "I've called the police, but we need to get out of here."
"Alright." He turned to Sam. "We're getting out of here Sammy, com'on." He picked his brother up because he would not be walking on his burned foot and allowed the still small kid to wrap his legs around his waist, his hand not leaving his brother's amulet. The two of them looked like crap but it didn't matter. Dean walked to the Impala, putting Sam in the passenger seat first before rushing to the other side. The moment he was behind the wheel, Sam scooted closer to his side, trying not to appear too clingy.
"We'll take care of your burns back at the motel ok Sammy?" Dean said, ruffling his brothers hair.
"Okay De'n." Sam said, the stress of what had to be at least the last seven hours caught up to him and he leaned on his brother's shoulder, falling into a light sleep.
Dean looked back in the review mirror at the large house were the psycho was left behind.
"She will never hurt you again, Sammy, I promise."
Years later:
Millie was stalking the store when a black Chevy Impala pulled up in front of the gas station, two young men getting out of the car. The faded scar on her side burned in memory and her smile widened at the next opportunity for her man to fall into her hands.
"You'll be mine."