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When Caleb woke up, the first thing he felt was pain, and the second thing he felt was panic.
This was supposed to be a simple hunt, and now he was pretty sure he was locked in a basement somewhere.
It was damp, and he was almost certain it was dark too, but he was having trouble keeping his eyes open long enough to focus. He heard coughing beside him and forced his vision to clear.
“Deuce? Sam?”
A groan answered him.
“I’m right here,” Dean muttered, shifting against the dirt wall.
Dean and Caleb both had their hands cuffed to pipes above them, their wrists numb from the lack of blood flow.
“Sammy?” Dean called. “You here?”
“Yeah… over here.” Sam’s voice sounded strained. “And I’m gonna go ahead and assume this is probably about me.”
“Why?” Caleb asked.
Then he finally saw him.
Sam sat tied to a rickety chair in the middle of the room.
“Sooo…” Dean muttered while tugging against the cuffs, “what are we thinking here? Demons or angels?”
“Uhhh…” Sam stared toward the doorway. “I’m gonna go with demons.”
Dean and Caleb followed his gaze.
A tall man stood near the entrance, black hair slicked back and a cracked leather jacket hanging off his shoulders. He smiled widely.
“You got that right, Sammy boy.”
Black eyes flashed.
The demon crossed the room slowly and crouched in front of Sam.
“My, my…” he said softly. “How the mighty have fallen.” He tilted his head. “I’m not sure Azazel would be proud of what you’ve become.” His grin widened. “You were his favorite toy.”
“Go to hell,” Sam snarled.
Dean smirked despite himself.
“Done my fair share of time there,” the demon answered casually. “Not in any hurry to go back.” He looked toward Dean. “When Sammy gets there, though, you can ask him how he likes it.”
“Sorry, Fonzie,” Dean shot back. “Hell’s already gotten enough Winchester blood.” His voice hardened. “Sam ain’t going anywhere.”
The demon laughed.
“Oh, I’m not working for Lucifer.” He waved dismissively. “I think his whole plan is reckless and stupid.” His eyes shifted back to Sam. “No, my sect believes it’d be much smarter to have Sam Winchester on our side.”
Sam visibly tensed at that.
“You could still become what you were meant to be, Sammy,” the demon continued. “You could lead us.”
“Why the hell would I want that?” Sam snapped.
“Because we aren’t so different.” The demon shrugged. “Dean did forty years in Hell.” He pointed toward Caleb. “And your psychic friend here has demon blood running through his family line too.” His eyes darkened. “You know what power feels like.” He smiled knowingly. “And you miss it.”
“Stop calling me Sammy.”
The demon laughed softly.
“Well…” He tilted his head. “That wasn’t exactly a denial.”
Dean’s jaw tightened immediately.
“I can make you strong again,” the demon whispered. “Stronger than before.” He smiled. “You just have to let me.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then you die.”
Sam glanced toward Dean and Caleb.
Neither missed the look.
Fear wasn’t there.
Not for himself.
“Take your best shot,” Sam answered coldly. “I won’t help you.”
The demon sighed dramatically and pulled a knife from beneath his jacket.
“Leave him alone, you son of a bitch!” Dean yelled.
“Calm down, Dean.” The demon smiled faintly. “I just want to see what his blood looks like.”
“Well look at mine!” Caleb snapped. “I’m Azazel’s direct descendant. Shouldn’t that make me more interesting?”
“Tempting,” the demon admitted. “But no thanks.”
Sam bit back a scream as the knife slammed through his hand.
Dean and Caleb both jerked violently against the cuffs hard enough to tear skin from their wrists.
The demon slowly pulled the blade free and watched the blood drip down Sam’s fingers.
“Our blood really isn’t so different, Sam.” He inhaled sharply. “I can smell the demon in yours.”
Sam glared at him.
“I can make you powerful again,” the demon whispered. “More blood than you’ve ever had before.” His eyes gleamed. “You just have to let me.”
Sam laughed weakly through the pain.
“Why even ask?” His voice sharpened. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone forced demon blood down my throat.”
Dean and Caleb exchanged a quick glance.
Neither of them knew what that meant.
“Well,” the demon answered casually, “forcing you to drink it doesn’t guarantee you’ll use your powers.” He shrugged. “Seems like a waste otherwise.”
“Then go fuck yourself,” Sam spat. “I don’t want it.”
The demon nodded slowly.
“You know what makes a good torturer, Sam?” He twirled the knife lazily. “Knowing how to miss all the important organs.” He glanced toward Dean. “Ask your brother. He knows all about that.”
Dean’s expression darkened instantly.
“Blood loss wasn’t really an issue where I was,” Dean muttered. “Now let him go.”
“Oh, but he does want it.” The demon turned back toward Sam. “That’s the interesting part.” He dragged the blade along Sam’s collarbone, drawing blood. “I can see it in your head.” His voice lowered. “You crave that power every day.” He nodded toward Dean and Caleb. “The only reason you’re resisting is because of them.”
“Shut up,” Sam growled.
“I’m right though, aren’t I?” The demon smiled wider. “You made promises to them.” He leaned closer. “And now you’re terrified of letting them down.”
Sam said nothing.
“But here’s the thing…” The demon pressed the knife against Sam’s stomach. “They’ve already given up on you.”
Sam’s eyes immediately flicked toward Dean.
The demon caught it.
“They’re just waiting for you to say yes to Lucifer.” His voice softened mockingly. “They already think you’re weak.”
“Sammy, don’t listen to him,” Dean said immediately. “That’s not true.”
The demon ignored him.
“So tell me, Sam…” He pressed the blade harder. “Why fight so hard for people who already think you’re broken?” His grin twisted. “Why save people who don’t care whether you survive this war?”
Sam stared at him for a long moment before lifting his chin stubbornly.
“Stop talking,” he muttered. “And do whatever you’re gonna do.” His voice hardened. “The answer to you and Lucifer will always be no.” He glared. “I’m not Hell’s bitch.”
The knife slammed into his chest.
Dean shouted.
Caleb swore violently.
Sam screamed.
“Please…” Caleb’s voice cracked. “Stop.”
He could feel Sam’s pain through the psychic bond and it was making him sick.
“You really willing to die for these two?” the demon asked.
Sam struggled to breathe.
“Yes.”
The demon narrowed his eyes.
“They’ll never see you as anything but a failure.” He tilted his head slightly. “Why die for them?”
Sam looked toward Dean and Caleb.
Then smiled through bloody teeth.
“Because they’re my brothers.” His voice shook slightly. “And that’s what family does.”
Then he spat blood at the demon’s feet.
The demon’s expression finally hardened.
“So be it.”
He sliced Sam’s arm from wrist to elbow.
“NO!” Dean shouted.
“I’d say you’ve got twenty minutes.” The demon stepped back casually. “Maybe thirty before he bleeds out.” He shrugged. “Unless he changes his mind.”
Then he disappeared.
Leaving the three men alone.
Sam coughed violently, blood splattering down his chin.
“Sammy, stay awake,” Dean ordered immediately.
Sam laughed weakly.
“He’s not a very good torturer.” He coughed again. “Pretty sure he punctured my lung.”
“Jesus Christ,” Caleb muttered.
They had to get out.
Fast.
“Can you get loose, Deuce?”
Dean yanked hard against the cuffs again before slumping back against the wall.
“No.”
Sam shifted weakly in the chair.
“Sammy, stop moving,” Caleb warned. “You’re bleeding too fast.”
“Probably.” Sam’s breathing turned shaky. “But I’m not letting you idiots die down here with me.”
With his good hand, Sam reached into his boot and pulled free a small blade hidden in the lining.
Dean immediately understood what he was doing.
“Sam…”
Sam started sawing through the ropes around his chest.
Every movement made him weaker.
Eventually the ropes snapped.
Sam collapsed forward onto the dirt floor, catching himself weakly with one arm.
“Sammy?” Dean’s voice cracked slightly. “Stay awake.”
“I won’t…” Sam whispered. “Not yet.”
He crawled across the floor toward Dean and shakily worked the blade into the cuff lock.
A second later Dean’s right hand snapped free.
“You do the rest, big brother…”
Dean quickly unlocked Caleb before both men rushed toward Sam.
Sam’s eyes had already slipped closed.
Dean grabbed his face gently.
“C’mon, baby brother. Wake up.”
Sam groaned softly and blinked up at him.
“That’s it.” Dean pressed his shirt hard against the chest wound. “We gotta slow the bleeding.”
Caleb tore his overshirt into strips and tied off Sam’s arm as tightly as he could.
“D-Dean?” Sam slurred.
“Yeah, Sammy?”
“M’not weak… right?”
Dean nearly broke right there.
“No, Sammy.” His voice cracked badly. “You’re one of the strongest men I’ve ever known.”
Sam smiled faintly.
“Learned from the best,” he whispered. “Sorry I let you down…”
“You’ve redeemed yourself a long time ago, kid,” Caleb muttered while checking his pulse. “Just don’t quit on us now.”
“M’kay…” Sam’s eyes drifted shut again. “Trying…”
“Stop talking,” Caleb ordered. “Just stay in my head so I know you’re still with us.”
Sam nodded weakly.
Then suddenly Caleb felt a familiar pulse against his thoughts.
He smiled instantly.
“Don’t worry, Deuce.” Caleb looked toward the ceiling. “Cavalry’s here.”
Seconds later they heard shouting upstairs.
“Bobby?” Dean asked hopefully.
“And Josh.”
The basement door burst open and Bobby and Joshua Ames rushed inside.
“Everybody alive?” Bobby barked out.
“No thanks to these assholes,” Dean snapped. “Sam’s bad, Bobby.”
Joshua crouched beside Sam and immediately swore.
“Shit.” He looked toward Bobby. “We gotta move now.” He checked Sam’s breathing quickly. “Possible collapsed lung.”
Dean and Caleb immediately hauled Sam carefully to his feet.
Outside, they loaded him into the Impala while Caleb climbed into the backseat beside him.
Throughout the drive Caleb kept pressure on the wound while Sam faded in and out beside him.
“I’m tired,” Sam whispered through the psychic bond.
“We’re almost there, kiddo,” Caleb answered gently. “Just hold on.”
“And if I can’t?”
“You can.” Caleb squeezed his shoulder carefully. “You’re the strongest guy I know.”
“Dean said that,” Sam thought weakly.
“Yeah.” Caleb smiled sadly. “I agree with him.”
Sam shifted slightly against his side.
“And Sam?” Caleb swallowed hard. “You’re my little brother too.” His voice cracked slightly. “I’m not ready to bury either of you.”
Sam huffed weakly.
“Chick flick moment…”
“Shut up, kid.”
They pulled into the emergency bay and rushed Sam inside.
Doctors swarmed around the youngest Winchester immediately, loading him onto a gurney while Dean rattled off injuries.
“He’s got a punctured lung, stab wound to the chest, severe blood loss—”
“He’s fading,” Caleb added sharply.
Sam was wheeled away before either of them could follow.
Four hours later, Dean was still pacing the waiting room while Caleb, Bobby, Joshua, and Mackland sat nearby pretending not to worry.
“Deuce, sit down before you fall down,” Caleb muttered. “You look like shit.”
Dean glared at him.
“Thanks, Damien. Real ego boost.”
Caleb grabbed Dean by the shoulder and shoved him into the chair beside him.
“Get the hell off me.”
Caleb ignored him completely.
“Dean, this isn’t your fault.”
“I didn’t stop it either.”
“We tried,” Caleb answered quietly. “That kid saved both of us while bleeding out with a hole in his lung.” He shook his head slightly. “He’s gonna be fine.” He smirked faintly. “And then he’s gonna wake up and give you the ‘Dean this isn’t your fault’ speech.”
Dean snorted despite himself.
“Yeah…” He rubbed at his face. “That sounds about right.”
The doctor finally walked into the waiting room.
“Family of Alex Connor?”
“That’s us,” Dean answered immediately.
The doctor raised an eyebrow while looking between all of them.
“All of you?”
“Yeah,” Caleb answered dryly. “Big family.”
The doctor shook his head slightly.
“Well, surgery went well.” He glanced at the chart. “We repaired the tear in his lung and inserted a chest tube while it heals.” He nodded. “He’ll need bed rest for at least a week, but he should make a full recovery.”
Dean finally exhaled.
“Can we see him?”
“Room 212. He’s still asleep.”
“Thanks, doc.”
Bobby stood and grabbed his coat.
“Josh and I are gonna go clean up the mess back at that house.” He looked toward Dean and Caleb. “We’ll swing back tomorrow.”
“We appreciate the rescue,” Caleb said sincerely.
“Anytime, boys.”
Once Bobby and Joshua left, Caleb and Dean headed upstairs.
Sam looked painfully young lying in the hospital bed beneath fluorescent lights.
Dean sat beside him quietly while Caleb flipped through an old magazine nearby.
“He doesn’t sleep much anymore,” Dean said suddenly.
Caleb looked up.
“No?”
Dean shook his head.
“Lucifer can’t find him, but he talks to Sam in dreams.” His jaw tightened. “So Sammy barely sleeps.”
“That’s rough.”
Dean stared at his sleeping brother for a long moment.
“I never gave up on him,” he muttered quietly. “But back there?” He rubbed at his face. “He believed that demon.” His voice cracked slightly. “He actually thinks I don’t care about him anymore.”
Caleb sighed softly.
“That makes you human, Deuce.” He shrugged. “We’ve all screwed up.” His voice softened. “But he still fought for us today, even thinking we’d already written him off.” Caleb smiled faintly. “That kid still just wants his big brother to forgive him.”
“I already have.”
“I know.” Caleb nodded toward Sam. “Now make sure he knows too.”
Two hours later Sam finally started waking up.
Caleb quietly excused himself to grab coffee, giving the brothers privacy.
Sam blinked slowly toward Dean.
“Hey Dean.”
“Hey Sleeping Beauty.” Dean smirked faintly. “How you feeling?”
“Like there’s a car parked on my chest.”
Dean laughed softly.
“Yeah, apparently puncturing your lung makes breathing difficult.”
Sam rolled his eyes weakly.
“Jackass…” He shifted slightly. “When can I get outta here?”
“When the doctor clears you.”
“I’m fine.”
Dean snorted.
“Dude, you’ve got a chest tube hanging outta you.”
Sam glared weakly.
“How long?”
“At least a week.”
“I am not staying here a week.”
“Oh yes you are.” Dean pointed toward him. “Then you’re recovering at the farm after.”
Sam sighed dramatically.
“Where’s Caleb?”
“Getting coffee.” Dean studied him carefully. “He’s fine, Sammy.” His voice softened. “You’re the one we’re worried about.”
Sam looked away.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Dean nudged his shoulder lightly. “Just get better.”
The room settled into silence for a few moments before Dean finally spoke again.
“Hey Sammy?”
“Yeah?”
“You know I forgive you, right?”
Sam blinked in confusion.
“What?”
“I forgive you.” Dean swallowed hard. “For all of it.” He rubbed at his face tiredly. “I’m still pissed about how things happened, but…” He looked directly at him. “I trust you.” His voice cracked slightly. “Back there today?” He shook his head. “You proved you’re still the same stubborn idiot you’ve always been.” A small smile crossed his face. “And I’m proud of the man you became.”
Sam’s eyes filled immediately.
“Thanks, Dean.”
“You’re welcome.” Dean hesitated slightly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“You told that demon it wasn’t the first time someone forced demon blood down your throat.” Dean frowned. “What did that mean?”
Sam sighed heavily.
“After we split up last year, Bobby called in some hunters for a case.” He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “A demon told them I started the apocalypse.” His voice lowered. “So they tried forcing me to drink demon blood so I could kill demons for them.”
Dean’s expression darkened instantly.
“But I spit it out,” Sam added quickly. “I swear.”
Dean nodded immediately.
“I believe you, Sammy.”
Sam visibly relaxed at that.
“Get some sleep,” Dean muttered quietly. “We’ve still got one hell of a war ahead of us.”
And that was true.
The world was still ending.
Lucifer was still coming.
But no matter how badly things broke around them—
the Winchesters would never stop fighting for each other.