Save me

Save me
Characters: Sam Dean John OC
Pairing: none


The voice mail from an unknown number had not been a priority for Dean, so it had been there for several hours. The instant Dean heard the familiar voice he stopped and sat down heavily.
"Dean?.... It's Sam. I need some help..... I'm in jail."

Possible trigger- highlight to read non-graphic underage non/con object insertion

Exiting the bathroom, Dean ran the towel over his head one  more time before reaching for his phone. The hunt was not going as well and he and John had thought it would. A simple salt and burn of a young widow turned into a hunt for the poltergeist husband who had been murdered in the woods. The remains had been scattered by animals, so other methods were going to be needed. The voice mail from an unknown number had not been a priority for Dean, so it had been there for several hours. The instant Dean heard the familiar voice he stopped and sat down heavily.
"Dean?.... It's Sam. I need some help..... I'm in jail."

************************************************************

Watching John pour over the various notes in the truck, Dean tried to figure out a way to tell  him that they had to get back to the current hometown to get Sam out of jail. There was just no way Dean could figure this conversation was going to go well.
"Dad?" His voice was so quiet and unsure that he had to say it three times before John finally looked up. The sight of his 19 year old looking so apprehensive made his pause.
"What?"
"We need to get back to Sammy."
"He's a big boy, Dean. He'll be fine for a couple more days."
The dismissal would have been final any other time, but Dean stepped closer. "He called me."
"What's wrong?" John knew Sam wouldn't call unless there was no way he could get out of whatever trouble had come up on his own.
A few more seconds passed. "He.... he got arrested."
"He WHAT?" John's voice rose and Dean knew it was going to be a long drive back to the small town they was currently their temporary home. "What the fuck do you mean he got arrested?"
"I don't know, Dad. He left a voice mail that he was in jail and he needed help."
Throwing the small notebook across the room, John got to his feet. "God damnit, I've told both of you how many times to avoid attention? Next time he doesn't get out of a hunt. I don't give a damn what his excuses are. He goes with us."
While John's tirade continued, Dean was busy searching his mind for possibilities for what Sammy could have done to be arrested. He mentally counted how much money they'd left him. They'd only planned on being gone for three or four days and it had been five, but he shouldn't have run out of money yet. So shoplifting probably wasn't on the list. Petty theft? No, Sammy was the one in the family that might have dreamed of the latest gadget, but he sure as hell wouldn't lift it- wasn't in his nature.
Dean's thoughts were interrupted by John reaching for his own phone. There were five messages from unknown callers. These messages were from the Sherriff alerting John to the fact that they had his 15 year old son in jail and were going to keep him until John came to deal with the situation. Clearing the messages, John retrieved his notebook and sat back down. "We're going to have to finish this tonight so we can get home tomorrow."
"Tonight? Dad, shouldn't we get back now?"
"Give up a hunt to go bail Sammy out of jail?" John shook his head. "He got himself into this. One more night isn't going to hurt him. We'll go back tomorrow and figure out what needs to be done. Maybe you'll both made damn sure you don't end up back in jail in the future."
'One more night'. Dean realized that Sam had already spent one night in jail waiting for them to come get him. A pang of guilt ran through him.

********************************************************************************

"Don't look to me like your father's in any hurry to get back here to get you." The Sherriff stood outside Sam's holding cell and shook his head. "You give him this kind of grief on a regular basis?"
Sam's eyes never left the floor and he didn't reply. His mind had been racing the entire time, trying to replay what happened, but he'd been fighting it. The only thing he wanted to do was forget everything. The lump on the back of his head was throbbing but he didn't think for one second the Sherriff would get him medical attention.
"I'm talking to you, boy. You get your ass over here and look at me when I'm talking to you."
At the Sherriff's tone, Sam finally looked up at him and moved carefully, minding the soreness in his body, to the edge of the cell. The room spun briefly and Sam hoped he could fight the nausea. Yep, definitely a concussion. Lovely.
"Why is it that your father can't be bothered to come get his own son out of jail? You a regular behind bars?"
"He's busy, and no, sir." Sam kept his answers short and avoided giving any information, just like John had always drilled into his head.
"You haven't even asked how any of them boys are doing."
"No, sir." Sam honestly didn't care.
Before Sam could react, the Sherriff's hand gripped his bloody shirt and yanked him painfully into the bars. "Kevin's my son, you little punk-ass son of a bitch. Doctor says he's going to be in the hospital for another day and he might not play the rest of the season."
Besides a slight grimace when his face hit the bars, Sam didn't react. As far as Sam was concerned, Kevin and all five of his friends deserved a hell of a lot more then what Sam had given them. But the Sherriff was looking for a reason to hurt him, and Sam wasn't about to give him one. After a couple seconds of not getting a reaction from Sam, the Sherriff reached through the bars with his other hand and gripped the teen's hair painfully. "You got an answer for that?"
"No, sir."
"Good. Make it that much easier for the Circuit Judge to charge you with felony assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder as an adult."
Sam couldn't think of the actual charges or the possible repercussions at the moment. If he did he'd give the Sherriff the reaction he wanted. All Sam wanted at that moment was Dean. Even  though his brain knew Dean couldn't fix this, his instinct was always to let Dean make things better. As much as it hurt, Sam wasn't entirely surprised that John hadn't appeared to get him. John would never give up on a hunt to come get Sam out of a mess that Sam had gotten himself into. And Dean would never leave his father alone on a hunt when he knew Sam wasn't in any physical danger.
The Sherriff gave his hair another painful tug, hitting the side of Sam's head against the solid bars. "Guess you're going to be our guest for another night."
As soon as the grip released, Sam pulled away and  moved back to the cot. His entire body ached and sharp pains drove through him from his run in with the boys the day before. But he bit the side of the inside of his mouth and gripped the side of the cot to avoid showing the Sherriff anything.

***********************************************************************

"That should do it." John finished with the ritual and blew out the candle. Things had been tense, with a cold wind picking up around them and sticks blowing with twigs and rocks at their heads. Dean had been responsible for protecting the candles and drawing the poltergeist's attention until John finished. Shoving everything back into his duffle bag, John turned to his oldest son. "Let's get back to the hotel, clean up and get some sleep before heading back."
Realizing that John's real intention was to let Sam stew in a cell as punishment, Dean shook his head. "Dad, we can't leave Sam locked up."
John glared at him. "Fine. Let's just pack up and go see what the fuck your brother did now." On the surface, it would have appeared that John agreed with his son, but Dean knew from the tone that it wasn't going to be that easy.  
On the way back to the hotel, John stopped at an all night mini-mart. Dean wasn't surprised when he came back to the car with a twenty-four pack of beer, a bag of peanut M&M's, three cokes, and a bag of chips. "Cokes are for you. You're so hot and heavy to get back to town you're packing up and you're driving home."
"Yes, sir." It wasn't as bad as Dean had thought it might be. Packing up the few supplies back at the hotel and driving the seven hours back while John drank his beer wasn't the worst thing his father could throw at him. Not that he cared, the only thing Dean could think of was getting his baby brother out of jail and fixing whatever trouble the kid was in.

*************************************************************************
Hands held him down, pinning his head painfully against the ground. Voices were yelling and echoing all around him, but Sam couldn't make any of them out. The voices changed to laughing just before Sam's world became nothing but pain.
A scream ripped itself from the boy's throat and he sat up, swinging his already long arms to defend himself against the attackers in his dream. Another voice joined the sounds in his head and he backed into the wall. Pressing himself into the corner, he continued to scream, desperately trying to escape the images that were following him from sleep.  The shock to his system sent spasms through his body, standing every hair on end until finally, after what felt like hours but was really only ten seconds, everything went mercifully black.
The Deputy released the trigger on his taser and waited until he was sure Sam was unconscious before entering the cell.
"Cover me." He turned to the other deputy before approaching Sam. "Crazy bastard put six football players in the hospital."
"With a hockey stick. Don't look to me like he could do much damage on  his own."
"Not taking chances." He checked Sam's pulse briefly before retrieving his taser's electrodes. "Just wanted him to shut the fuck up. All that screaming was getting on my nerves."

**************************************************************************

"I'm John Winchester, I got a call that you have my son here?" Despite having drunk the entire suitcase of beer while Dean drove, John looked amazing alert.
"Well, Mr. Winchester. Nice of you to come by and check on your son."
Dean almost winced at the sarcastic tone of the Sherriff's voice. To John's credit, he simply turned and met the officer's stare. "I'd like to see my boy now."
"You're boy is in a shit load of trouble, you know that? Got enough charges to make sure he doesn't get a chance to hurt anyone else for a while."
"I'll discuss the charges with his lawyer. Right now I'll see Sam." John's tone was one that would have stopped any argument, but the Sherriff was too personally involved in the case to give an inch.
"There's some paperwork you need to take care of first, Mr. Winchester. If you were so anxious to see your son, I figure you would have shown up before he spent almost two full days with us."
"You take care of that, Dad. I'll go see Sam." Dean realized that the Sherriff, for some reason, really hated Sam. And since he had the means to make getting Sam released difficult, Dean tried to keep John calm.
"Fine." John nodded. "You take my son to see his brother and I'll take care of whatever you need me to do."
Dean was almost shaking from nerves by the time the Deputy led him down a corridor to the holding cells. When he approached Sam's cell, he realized his brother was lying on the cot facing the wall.
"Sammy?"
"Dean?" When Sam slowly rolled over, Dean knew something was really wrong.
"Sam? What the hell happened?" He turned to the Deputy. "Let me in there."
"No way. Not until the Sherriff gives the order. Your brother isn't as helpless as he looks. Six boys are in the hospital to prove it."
Dean had no idea what the Deputy meant, but he didn't care. All he cared about was getting close enough to Sam to see what was wrong. "Sammy? Can you come here?"
Sam made his way to the side of the cell, where Dean gripped his shoulders and started a cursory exam. The kid looked like he'd been the one to go ten rounds with the poltergeist instead of Dean and John. Small tremors ran through his body and Dean gripped his chin gently. "Sammy?"
Before Dean could ask any more questions, John's voice carried through the station.
"You mean to tell me that you tasered an unarmed fifteen year old boy while he was locked in a cell? What kind of cowards are working for you, Sherriff?"
"Tasered?" Dean stared at Sam, who nodded.
"I just wanna sit down, Dean." Leaning his side against the bars, Sam slid to sit down. Dean kneeled on the other side of the bars.
John appeared with the Sherriff leading the way. The Sherriff nodded to the deputy, who opened the cell. Immediately, Dean rushed in and helped Sam to his feet. Slowly he led his younger brother out of the station and into the car.
"Dad, he needs a doctor-"
"No!" Sam shook his head.
"Sammy, you've got tasered, you've got a hell of a lump on your head. You look like you got your ass kicked.. You need to be checked out."
John nudged Dean out of the way and looked at Sam. "The shaking is from the taser. It will go away. Let's get the hell out of here before they decide to try to run Sam in again."
The ride back to the hotel was silent. Dean drove, knowing John was not in condition to drive yet, but he kept watching Sam in the rear view mirror. Sam was sitting in the corner behind Dean, just staring out the window.
As soon as the car stopped John was out and pulling Sam into the room. When Sam sat down on the bed, John leaned over him. "Sam, the Sherriff told me you attacked six boys with a hockey stick and put them all in the hospital. I need to you tell me if that's true."
After a long pause, Sam nodded. "Yes, sir."
"They jump you?" Dean knew Sam would have never started have started the fight if there had been any way to avoid it.
For a moment, what almost looked like fear crossed Sam's face. "Yes."  
"Dean, stay out of this. Were they armed?"
"With the- with the stick." The shakes got worse and Sam tried to pull away from John. John held his arm until Sam jerked away and stood. Struggling to keep his balance, Sam moved towards the bathroom. "I need a shower."
"Sam-" John's voice rose, but Sam grabbed his duffel and disappeared in the bathroom.
Dean heard the lock to the bathroom engage and turned to John. "Dad, he's hurt."
"I need to figure out what to do." John shook his head. "Christ, he's in a world of shit this time." Sighing, John pointed towards the bathroom. "He's not leaving this room tonight. We'll take another look at him and make sure he doesn't need a doctor, but he stays put unless I'm with him. I'm going across the street for a while."
Knowing that there was nothing but a bar across the street, Dean nodded. After John left, Dean stared at the bathroom door, waiting for Sam to exit.




Chapter 2  jasmineisland.livejournal.com/1860.html