Heroes-Revisited

By Ridley C. James, July 2006 re-edited in 2007

Beta & contributor: Tidia

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me.

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Chapter 4/13

“A Hero is a man who does what he can.” –Romain Rolland

Even though Dean had only just met Daryl Patterson, it was Sammy's voice he heard when the little boy begged Dean to save him as the raw head rattled and shook his cage. Sammy's horror-filled eyes locked with Dean's as the monster began to open the door that kept him from the child inside. And it was thoughts of bruised and battered Sammy filling Dean's mind as he placed himself in the line of fire to keep the little boy safe for as long as he could manage.

"Hey, Pig Face, why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Dean picked up a rock with his nearly numb fingers and manipulated enough slack in the chain to launch it at the beast's turned back. The seventeen-year-old could pitch pretty damn well with either hand. Although he lacked the speed and finesse of a first rate pitcher, he had the distance and power of a top notch first baseman.

The rock found its mark like Dean had been aiming for second base or home plate. The raw head grunted, and turned to glare at Dean. Snorting a warning, the creature once again began using its claw-like fingers to work the crude bar on the cage door.

"Are you afraid that I might be too much for you? Come on- a big man like you needs a super-sized snack, not some puny kid's meal. Leave the runt alone. I'll give you a damn prize if that's what you're worried about." Dean found another rock and threw it at the raw head, hard enough to graze its leather-like skin this time. "Take a bite out of me, Tiny."

Daryl was crying harder, remaining in the corner, maintaining some semblance of the beetle imitation. The raw head roared, and whirled around to face an innocently smiling Dean.

"What? You don't like a little pre-dinner show?"

The raw head stalked towards Dean. With the seven-foot monster quickly approaching, Dean scrambled to find anything he could use to defend himself. In the end, it didn't really matter because he'd accomplished what he'd meant to. He’d saved Sam. "Daryl -run!"

The little boy scrambled out of the cage towards the wooden ladder leading to safety above. The raw head whipped around as Daryl reached for the first rung. It faltered as Dean lashed out with his foot, catching the beast at what looked like a knee. The monster stumbled and cried out as the joint cracked and popped. It recovered quickly, but Daryl was already near the top, half his body disappearing over the lip of the crevice.

The raw head struck out at Dean. The sheer force of the impact sent the teen sprawling, the chains painfully jerking his arms as he was tossed against the stone behind him.

Dean's flesh came into contact with the unforgiving ground. He cried out, but managed to stay conscious. Considering its size and bulk, the beast was on him with amazing speed. Foul, hot breath brushed against Dean's bruised face as the beast wrapped its meaty claws around the teen's neck and drew him close.

"Dude-two words. Personal…. space!" Dean shoved weakly at the monster, unable to gain any leverage.

A large, black tongue emerged from the creature's mouth. Dean winced as it slid roughly across his face into his hairline where blood trickled from a gash above his brow. "Get…the…fuck off me," he spat through barred teeth as the monster repeated the action.

Dean tried once again to lash out with his feet. The raw head wasn't caught unaware this time and merely used its incredible size to overcome the teen. It pushed Dean against the ground, straddled him and pinned him down.

Panic started to build as Dean's mind conjured every possible situation that could take place. He was chained to a wall, half-conscious with the equivalent of a mutated, cannibalistic pedophile sitting on his lap. He would have given almost anything for his dad and Caleb to burst into the room at that moment and toast the bastard. If that happened Dean would promise never to disobey a direct order again.

Every inch of his body hurt, a wave of nausea swept over him. The pain was shoved to the background by the incredible rush of fear and helplessness threatening to takeover. Years of training kept him hanging on.

He was a soldier. A soldier who knew if he lost it now there would be nothing left to save, even if a rescue was imminent. The idea of his family finding his body in various stages of digestion was the only incentive he needed. His hand slid across the ground, grappled for anything and finally tightened around another good-sized rock.

"This whole bondage thing… "Dean bit out, "…really isn't…my cup of tea, Porky. For that fact…neither are you."

The raw head tilted its head, holding, holding its grip around Dean's throat. It bent low and growled in the teen’s ear. Dean hoped that wasn’t the monster’s ides of whispering sweet-nothings. Black spots danced behind the hunter's eyes as precious oxygen was cut off. He cringed as once again he felt the wetness slide up his neck and across his face. He would never look at foreplay the same again.

God.

It was now or never.

Dean brought his hand up with all the force he could muster, slamming the stone into the side of the beast's face. It howled and jerked back, bringing Dean to a sitting position as it maintained a hold around the teen’s throat.

Hurt flashed through its dark eyes and then the raw head's hideous face contorted with rage. So much for Caleb’s theory the Flintstone throwback was incapable of emotions, because Dean could easily detect a hint of ecstatic glee in anticipation of the revenge it was about to dole out.

The raw head slammed Dean’s body against the floor. The teen’s head struck the hard ground. Pain exploded behind the young hunter’s eyes and he cried out, which excited the beast further. The creature repeated the action. The last conscious thought Dean had was: at least he wouldn’t be awake for the main course.

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Sam stumbled when the first spike of agony tore through his skull. When the second attack came he would have fallen if his dad hadn't been there to catch him.

"Sammy? What's wrong?"

"Hurts…" Sam managed to say as he leaned over, bracing himself on his knees.

John took Sam's face in his hands and forced his chin up. "Talk to me, Sammy. What's going on? "

The pain had been intense and sharp, but was quickly fading with each breath. Sam looked at his father, blinking away the tears that had sprung to his eyes. "I'm…okay." It had felt like someone had slammed a sledgehammer to the back of his skull, but was gone just as fast.

“Dean.” Caleb knelt next to Sam. He was usually able to get a reading on Dean when he was in trouble. Even now he had felt a twinge, but nothing like Sam had evidently experienced. "We've got to be close to the mine. Sam-did you see anything?"

The thirteen-year-old straightened and looked at the other hunter. "What do you mean?"

Caleb squeezed the boy's hand. "Flashes of the cave like in your nightmares? It might have looked like quickly moving pictures."

Sam shook his head, and winced as the motion brought back an ache. "It just hurt…and I saw a bright flash, like you do sometimes when you get hit in the head really hard."

"You think it was Dean?" John asked with trepidation.

"What? What about Dean?" Sam sought out his father's solemn gaze, fear in his own brown eyes. "Tell me what's going on, Caleb?"

"Sam, remember I always told you that you were connected to your brother. . ."

"What? Is Dean hurt? Is that what I felt?" Sam looked at Caleb. His voice broke, "Does it mean he's dead?"

"No, goddamnit!" John shouted, grabbing his son's shoulders and giving him a slight shake. "That's not what it means. Don't ever say that! It doesn't mean anything."

"John, calm down. Sam, it doesn’t mean he is dead. Probably hurt, but your brother has the hardest head I know. Remember when…" Reaves tried to the diffuse the situation with a ramble he needed to believe too.

"Shut up, Caleb!"

Sam started to protest again, but a loud crashing sound erupted in the thick forest around them. His father wasted no time in grabbing his arm, pulling him off the narrow path and into the sheltering trees. Caleb followed, drawing one of the tazer guns out of his pack as he did so.

It wasn't long before they all could hear harsh breathing and the pounding of rapidly approaching feet. "It's not big enough to be the raw."

Sam pulled away from his father. "Dean?" He started for the clearing, but John caught his arm again and pulled him back.

"No, Sam. Too much noise for your brother." John hissed. He looked to Caleb for confirmation.

The psychic shook his head. “It’s not Deuce.”

Caleb lowered the gun, and edged himself closer to the path just as Daryl tore through a stand of trees. The little boy barreled into the hunter. Caleb placed his hands on his small shoulders. "Hey?"

Daryl screamed, jerking wildly to free himself from the tall man's clutches. "Let me go!" he yelled as he kicked and punched Caleb.

"Take it easy, kid. I'm not going to hurt you." Reaves held the boy tighter.

"It's okay. You're Daryl, right?" Sam stepped out of the tree line and closer to Caleb. He bent down so he could see the kid's face. "Daryl Patterson?" He had read his father's research on the latest siblings to disappear, and he recognized the little boy from his dream.

Daryl eased his struggles and stared at the thirteen-year-old. His frightened eyes glistened and his lower lip trembled, but he managed to nod his head.

"I think you know my brother, Dean."

Daryl looked again to Caleb and then to John, standing behind his son.

"Dean…was at the cave. He told me someone was coming to save us."

Caleb released Daryl. The kid instinctively moved closer to Sam. "He helped me," the boy said softly.

Sam glanced up at his father and then forced a calm smile. "Daryl -where's Dean now?"

More tears filled the boy's eyes, some slipping past his lashes and sliding over his red cheeks. "He's… with my brother. The monster hurt them."

Sam felt his heart lurch as his mind conjured the dream images of his own brother. "Can you show us where?"

"No." John stepped forward. "Caleb and I can follow his trail from here. I want you to take the boy back to the truck, Sam."

"No." Sam stood, glaring at his father. "No way, Dad. I'm going with you."

"We are not arguing about this…"

"We should stay together," Caleb spoke up. "Dean wouldn't be in this mess if we had followed the golden rule and hunted together." Reaves took the blame even though Dean had been the one to break off from the older hunter. He glanced at the two boys. "You really want to leave them alone out here?"

"God damn it!" John yelled, causing Daryl to jump slightly. "These are my kids!"

"We're wasting time!" Sam shouted, surprising both men when he grabbed his father's bag and heaved it onto his shoulder. "Dean doesn't have time. He's waiting on me to help him."

John shoved his hands through his hair, looking from the trembling little boy to his defiant son. "Alright. But you and the kid stay outside when we get there."

When Sam exhaled loudly, John pointed a finger at him. "I mean it, Sammy. Your job is to watch the kid! Leave the raw head to me and Caleb-got it?"

"I just want to save Dean."

John nodded, and sighed. "I know, son. Me too."

"Me three," Caleb said softly.

Sam reached for the little boy's hand, and tried to sound as reassuring as he could. "Come on, Daryl. It's all right. You're safe with us."

The boy hesitated, taking a step away from the teen. "Are we going to see the bad man again?"

Sam swallowed hard, but nodded. He wasn't going to lie. Unfortunately, he knew all too well how terrifying the raw head could be. "Probably." He knelt in front of Daryl again. "We have to-if we're going to get our brothers back."

The five-year-old seemed to hesitate for a second, but then nodded and took Sam's hand. "Okay."

Sam looked up at his father and smiled. It was just that simple. Even a child could understand. Brothers would do anything for each other. Even face their worst nightmares.

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