Wayward Sons - Deleted/Alternate Scene ~ Chapter 34

~ WAYWARD SONS - Alternate Scene ~

Yeah, think of this as a little DVD extra, a scene that didn't make the final cut of the 'movie'. God, I'm a geek.

Alright, so as I said in the author's note at the end of chapter 34, this is where my insane brain took me. And while I think it was an interesting idea, it's not something I could work well into the story. So I managed to write a whole six pages before I realized that this wasn't the direction I wanted to go and I just stopped (hence the abrupt end).

Please tell me what you think.

Anyway, here it is:

------------------------------------ Chapter 34 ------------------------------------

Dean paced his small room, a thousand emotions surging through him. He was having trouble fighting the very strong impulse of running back to the other room and wrapping his arms around Sam.

“Oh, come on, you should just do it and get it over with already. You came so close last night… literally.” Dean spun around to see Kelly smirking at him with her arms across her chest.

“I-I’m not dreaming,” Dean said as he stared at her.

“No, you’re not. Although if you’re wondering, that dream you had where you carved your brother up like a Thanksgiving turkey was all you and your own psychotic bullshit. I just found it entertaining to watch -- a truly inspiring show,” Kelly said with a saccharine smile.

“So where’s your brother?” Dean asked, silently cursing himself for not having laid salt down in the room.

“He’s actually having a chat with yours.”

“Oh, sure,” Dean said sarcastically.

“It’s true. You were so quick to run out of the room just now…. Are you sure you didn’t break your little salt line?”

Panic flooded through him as he rushed across the motel towards his brother’s room. “Sam, let me in!” he yelled, pounding on the door and searching his pockets for his key.

“Sammy’s busy,” Kelly whispered into his ear. “You didn’t happen to lose your key, did you? Because that would be a shame.”

“Sam! Open the goddamn door! Sammy!” The panic in him was building with each second of silence. He hurled himself at the door but it didn’t budge. “Sam!” He tried again, this time it finally burst open. He rushed inside to see Eric straddling Sam on the bed, holding him down. Something glinted in Eric’s free hand: a shard of glass.

“I told you how inspiring your dream was, didn’t I?” Kelly asked. Dean grabbed a handful of salt from the broken line at the door and threw it at Eric who disappeared in an instant. He grabbed another handful and launched it at Kelly who vanished as well. Dean ran over to his brother.

“Are you alright?” Dean asked.

“I can’t move,” Sam whispered as a tear slid down his temple.

“Don’t worry. Just hold on,” Dean rushed back over to the door to fix the scattered salt line.

“D-Dean, I can’t move. Why can’t I move?” Sam asked his brother.

“I don’t know what they did to you, but I’m gonna find out,” Dean assured his baby brother as he came to sit next to him on the bed.

“That was Eric, wasn’t it?” Sam asked. Dean nodded.

“Look, we can’t risk leaving the room. All we have is that salt -- Dad has all the weapons in the trunk and we don’t know when he’ll be back. We just have to wait it out,” Dean told his brother.

“What about Dad, what if they hurt him?” Sam asked, the panic in his voice was palpable.

“Don’t worry about Dad. He can handle himself, besides, he’s got all the damn weapons he needs to hold ’em off. Let’s just hope he gets back soon.”

Dean was horrified with himself, his nightmare had been such an ‘inspiration’ to the Wrights that they had almost succeeded in reenacting it. He noticed that Sam was shivering slightly and pulled a blanket over him.

“Ow,” Sam winced.

“What is it?” Dean asked worriedly.

“My chest hurts, I can’t take in a good breath,” Sam whispered, panic showing in his eyes.

“Don’t worry. Dad’ll be back soon, he’ll know what to do,” Dean said soothingly, running his hand through Sam’s hair.

“You don’t know when the hell he’ll be back. Besides, once he gets here do you honestly think he’ll know what to do? Who ever heard of a ghost paralyzing someone?”

“You’re right. I’m guessing most people haven’t heard of a ghost that can do that, but we’re not most people,” Dean said bracingly.

“Oh, spare me the pep talk,” Sam said.

“This isn’t me giving you a pep talk, this is me telling you the truth,” Dean said earnestly. Sam looked into his brother’s eyes and knew he meant what he said.

“You don’t think this could be some kind of Snow White deal, do you?” Sam asked jokingly.

“Snow White?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, you know the fairy tale -- Snow White takes a bite of a poisoned apple and falls into this comatose state but she wakes up when her prince comes and kisses her,” Sam explained sheepishly.

“Dude, you’re so gay,” Dean said, laughing in spite of himself.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam said with a small smile. “But seriously, we’ve got to try to think of some kind of antidote. I don’t think this thing is just gonna wear off by itself.”

“Um, well, if this was brought on by a ghost, maybe… salt? It’s worth a shot,” Dean said with a shrug as he stood and grabbed a canister of salt from inside the bag in the corner. He poured a little into his hand as he walked back over to his brother.

“Ew,” Sam muttered as Dean sprinkled a little on his lips and into his mouth.

“What? It’s more practical than a kiss,” Dean said. Sam swallowed the salt and the two of them waited in silence.

“Nothing’s happening,” Sam said after a moment. Dean pulled the blanket off of Sam in hopes that he might see a muscle twitch or a leg jolt.

“Try to move,” Dean said.

“I am,” Sam muttered exasperatedly.

“Okay, walk me through what happened, exactly what he did to you,” Dean said.

“You had just left and then suddenly this voice spoke. I looked up and saw him standing by this bed,” Sam began. “He walked over to me, grabbed me, threw me on the bed. He started saying this really weird stuff…”

“What’d he say?” Dean asked.

“He pulled out the piece of glass and started going on about how he was gonna make all your dreams come true. That slicing me up was going to be his early birthday present to you.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean whispered angrily.

“And then I tried to move, to run from him, but I couldn’t. Then you came in,” Sam said.

“That was way too close. I’m not leaving you alone again. If Kelly had stalled I wouldn’t even know… and, and you’d be…” Dean couldn’t finish the sentence aloud.

“Why didn’t she stall? I mean, you’d think she’d want to give Eric enough time to finish the job instead of telling you so you could stop it,” Sam muttered.

“You’re right. I don’t know. They’re not stupid, there must have been some plan behind it…” Dean realized. He glanced around the room nervously. “What’s their angle?”

------------------------------------ Alternate Chapter 35 ------------------------------------

He barely had time to begin to imagine what twisted plan the Wrights had in store when suddenly the room went dark. Dean reached over to the bedside lamp and turned the switch a few times but the lamp remained unlit.

“The power’s out,” Dean muttered.

“Do you think it’s them?” Sam asked, a tremble in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Dean muttered, not voicing his suspicion that it was them.

The door banged open, making Dean jump. No one was there. A gust of wind blew through the open door, scattering the salt line. He ran to close it but not in time. A punch landed in his jaw, knocking him down. He looked up to see Eric standing over him in the darkness.

“You guys haven’t been dead long enough to be pulling off these tricks. Who’s helping you?” Dean asked as he scrambled to his feet.

“We’re just fast learners,” Kelly said nonchalantly from behind Dean as Eric moved towards Sam.

“Stay the hell away from him!” Dean yelled as he lunged at Eric, only to fall straight through him.

“Our game, our rules,” Kelly sang out. Dean ran at Eric again, ignoring Kelly. He passed right through Eric again. “Sweetie, don’t be stupid. We’re spirits -- incorporeal. Come on, you know a thing or two about ghosts from what we’ve heard.”

Dean grabbed Sam’s limp form and carried him out of the room. It had started to pour and as Dean ran out into the rain with Sam in his arms, he had no idea how to protect his brother. He knew he couldn’t run from them, couldn’t hide from them either.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Dean muttered, leaning over Sam to shield him from the rain as best he could. “Oh, thank God,” he whispered as the Impala suddenly entered the parking lot. He ran over to it before it could even park, thrusting open the back door and putting Sam down on the seat. He sat down next to him and slammed the door shut again.

“Drive!” Dean shouted at his father. John turned to look at his sons.

“What the hell happened to your brother?” John asked, worriedly eyeing Sam’s limp form.

“Just drive and I’ll try to explain,” Dean said hurriedly.

* * *

“Nothing? No. Okay, well thanks Jim,” John muttered into the phone at the new motel they were staying at a few towns away from the Motel 8 where Kelly and Eric had attacked Sam. Permanent marker covered the walls, pentagrams that John had drawn the moment he had entered the room. Fresh lines of salt had been placed all around the room as well, though Dean wondered if it would do any good.

Dean got up from the bed where Sam was laid out and came to stand by his father. “Anything?” he asked quietly. John shook his head and began dialing another number. Dean sat back down by his little brother who was breathing with difficulty.

“I don’t know how much longer…” Sam gasped out.

“Don’t worry,” Dean whispered soothingly, brushing Sam’s cheek with his thumb. He tried to hide the fear in his eyes from his little brother but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. The lights suddenly began to flicker before going out.

“Dammit!” John shouted as he slammed the phone down on the receiver. “The line’s dead,” he grunted.

Dean almost welcomed the arrival of the Wrights at this point, he was so desperate to see his brother able to breathe and move freely again. He would bargain with them if he had to, he didn’t care what he had to give up so long as they let his brother go.

“Hey, Dean. We never got to meet the man who raised you so well,” Kelly’s voice sounded in the darkness. The lights flickered back into life and Kelly and Eric stood in the center of the room. Kelly walked towards John seductively. “So you’re Papa Winchester. You did a great job with these boys,” she said, the sarcasm in her voice apparent.

“You undo whatever the hell you did to my son. Right now,” John said through clenched teeth.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Kelly said, gesturing to her brother. Everyone watched as Eric slowly walked over to Sam. He laid a finger on his forehead and suddenly Sam was writhing in silent agony.

“STOP!” John and Dean shouted in unison as they rushed over to Sam. His flailing suddenly stopped and he laid limp once more. Dean’s fingers fumbled over Sam’s neck, checking for a pulse.

“His heart’s beating out of control,” Dean told his father. “Fix him!” he shouted at Eric. Eric just smirked and stood with his arms across his chest as Kelly came up beside Dean.

“Tell your father what happened last night and we’ll leave poor little Sammy alone,” Kelly whispered in Dean’s ear. “Of course then you’ll have to make sure your Daddy isn’t the one that’s gonna hurt your pretty little brother.”

His stomach crawled but he knew he had no choice. “D-Dad,” he began. He didn’t know how to tell his father and he didn’t want Sam to take any of the blame, taking a deep breath he began again. “Dad, last night… last night I made Sam,” he took another breath and looked down at his little brother who was twitching slightly, “I made Sam do things to me…” John stood as still as a statue, not wanting to comprehend what he was being told.

“Good start, but really paint a picture for dear old John,” Kelly muttered gleefully, her hands on Dean’s shoulders.

“I made Sam s-suck me off,” he said each word slowly and clearly, watching as his father’s face contorted with fury and revulsion. Dean tore his eyes from his father’s face to look at Sam who was still writhing on the bed. “You promised,” Dean whispered desperately to Kelly. She rolled her eyes and nodded to her brother who once again laid his hand on Sam’s forehead.

The thrashing stopped and Sam lay panting on the bed. Dean took a step forward but John pushed him away as he ran to his son.

“Sam, are you okay?” John asked quietly as he sat Sam up and put a hand to his sweating forehead. Sam nodded slightly then slumped against his father, too exhausted to speak.

“Well, I think our work here is done,” Eric said with a grin.

“For now,” Kelly added. “And Dean, if you try to weasel out of that confession your precious baby brother won’t be as lucky next time,” she whispered softly in Dean’s ear. The lights flickered again and suddenly the Wrights had disappeared.

Dean kept his distance even though he was dying to be close to his brother, to see for himself that he was alright. “Is he really alright?” Dean asked; he needed to know. John nodded, raising his head to look Dean straight in the eye.

“D-Did you really…?” he couldn’t say the words. Dean nodded. “How could you?!” Dean stood there in silence. “I asked you a question, boy!” John yelled as he came to a stand. Sam whimpered slightly at the sound but instead of quieting their father it seemed to infuriate him further. “How the hell could you do that to your baby brother?!”

Dean knew Eric and Kelly were probably still there, watching the scene. He had to play along. “Come on, Dad. Look at him, he’s beautiful.” Dean felt sick to his stomach speaking those words. He could see the fire burning in his father’s eyes. John walked towards him, shaking silently.

Dean waited for the punch that never came. “Well, aren’t you going to punish me for defiling your baby?” he asked, practically egging his father on. He was no longer putting on a show for the Wrights; now he was asking his father in earnest. John’s eyes blazed as he looked at his eldest son with nothing but pure loathing. Again, Dean found himself anticipating his father’s attack but still nothing happened.

“Hit me!” Dean yelled. John stared disgustedly at Dean for a moment then turned back to his youngest. Dean grabbed his father’s shoulder and flung him around. Finally, the punch landed, knocking Dean to the floor. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in his jaw.

“Is that all? I made your little boy suck my cock and your revenge is one lousy punch?” he yelled, blood and spit flying from his mouth.