Chapter Text
Loud banging from the front door woke Sam from his sleep. Half lidded brown eyes darted to the clock on his nightstand. 3:26 AM. What the hell? He felt his heart skip a beat and pulled open his nightstand to reach the gun he kept there. Whoever was at the door, he wasn't opening it without a weapon.
He held the gun in one hand and pushed open his bedroom door with the other. More pounding at the front door, this time accompanied by a voice.
"Sam, you motherfucker! Wake up!"
Wait a second. He knew that voice. Quick steps brought him across the living room and sliding the deadbolt free. As soon as he twisted the handle, a familiar form came crashing through the doorway and slamming into him.
"What the fuck?" Sam staggered back, gun slipping from his hand as he tried to keep himself from falling. The backs of his heels hit the couch and he tipped back, hands fumbling at the person in front of him, trying to pull himself back up.
Bucky found his balance and straightened himself, pulling Sam upright with him. He was breathing hard, cool vibranium fingers holding Sam's shoulder tightly.
"Shit, Bucky. What the fuck?" Sam shook off his friend's grip, leftover adrenaline still running through his limbs.
Bucky Barnes was standing in his living room, covered in blood and breathing so hard Sam was almost worried he'd hyperventilate. He wore a dark jacket over what seemed to be a black t-shirt. It could be black, or it could just be all the blood, Sam wasn't sure. Black pants with holes torn in the knees were jammed into the tops of a beaten up pair of combat boots. His hair was tangled and clinging to his cheekbones with a layer of sweat.
"What the fuck?" Sam repeated, not totally sure what else he should be saying right now.
Bucky dragged in a shaking breath before speaking. "We gotta go. They know you're here." He moved toward the kitchen without another word, throwing cabinets and drawers open.
"What...what are you talking about? Who knows I'm here?" He watched the soldier dumbly, still half asleep and not sure what was going on. He pulled the front door shut, but not before glancing both ways down the hallway. His neighbors were pissed for sure.
Bucky stopped, looking up at Sam with urgent eyes. "Put your fucking clothes on! Jesus Christ. We gotta go." He slammed a kitchen drawer shut in frustration. "Where do you keep your first aid kit?"
"Uh...in the bathroom."
Bucky started for the bathroom and Sam followed, deciding he'd better just shut up and put his clothes on. Before Sam had even finished pulling his shirt on, Bucky was in the doorway, holding the first aid kit in his metal hand and tapping his foot impatiently.
"Chill out, I'm coming," Sam snapped as he grabbed his wings and hurriedly slipped the rest of his weapons into place.
Bucky shifted his weight nervously, eyes flickering toward the window, the door. Mapping out exits.
"You gonna tell me who you pissed off this time?" His flippant tone did a poor job of disguising the fear growing in his chest.
"I'll tell you in the car. Let's go." The super soldier tossed Sam the first aid kit and grabbed his Sig from his waistband. Bucky led the way out of the apartment, glancing both ways down the hallway. They took the stairs, Bucky on high alert and Sam following suit behind him. What he was supposed to be looking for exactly, he wasn't sure. Danger, apparently?
Suddenly they were out the lobby door and into the cool night air. It smelled faintly of rain and damp earth, and Sam wondered if it was going to storm, or maybe if it had while he slept. He took a deep breath, relishing in the fresh air and the way it felt on his face, in his lungs. It was quiet. Well, as quiet as New York got. All except for the angry, armed super soldier throwing open the car door in front of him.
Bucky didn't get in the driver's side, or ask Sam to. He simply flung open the rear passenger door and leaned in, flipping open the first aid kit.
"What the hell are you...oh shit." Sam leaned around his friend to see a bloodied figure sprawled in the backseat. He couldn't tell if he was breathing. "Oh goddammit, Bucky."
"Shut up and drive." The super soldier didn't turn, just tossed the keys over his shoulder as if he already knew Sam would catch them, would do what he asked. Sam bristled at his certainty, but climbed into the driver's seat regardless.
Bucky slammed the door shut behind him, pressing gauze down hard into the gut of the man lying on the seat. Blood was spilling, running freely over his prone form and onto the seats, onto the floor. There were splatters on the windows and the ceiling, and Sam knew something bad had gone down here.
Bucky didn't drive. Unless it was his motorcycle, but that didn't count. Bucky didn't drive cars. Could he? Sure. Did he? Fuck no. He was so insistent on it, he'd given Sam the spare keys to his car one night, wordlessly dropping them into his palm and giving Sam a look like he wasn't supposed to ask.
"Drive, Sam." Bucky's voice was clipped and urgent. He was frantically trying to administer first aid to the unconscious man.
"Where am I going?" Sam glanced in the rearview mirror, anxiety rising. He wondered if the blood on Bucky's shirt belonged to him or the unnamed person in the back.
"Get on the freeway. Northbound."
Sam shook his head in exasperation, but pulled out onto the road. The sounds of Brooklyn nightlife floated through the air. As late as it was, the city was awake as ever. "Who's the corpse in the backseat?"
"He's not dead," Bucky snapped. His irritation was almost palpable, anger radiating off his body and coating the interior of the cab.
Sam bit back a retort as he merged onto the freeway. He glanced in the rearview mirror, watching Bucky desperately try to stop the half dead man from bleeding out. If the blood splattered across the interior of the car was anything to go off of, then he was already too far gone.
Bucky leaned over him, right hand finding his throat, checking for a pulse. "Dammit!" He chucked the rest of the gauze down in frustration.
Sam felt anxiety spike in his gut. "What's going on, man? Fill me in." His voice was edged with nerves.
Bucky sat there for a minute, breathing hard and staring down at the body in the back. Finally, he seemed to shake himself out of his daze and climbed up front into the passenger seat. He collapsed into the fabric with a loud, irritated sigh.
Sam's eyes darted over, then back to the road. Bucky looked like hell. What just happened? "Bucky..." His tone held a note of warning.
Bucky stared distantly out the windshield, chest still heaving. Sam watched as he winced in pain and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"That a friend of yours?" Sam cast a nervous glance in the rearview again.
Bucky shook his head. "No. Get off here." He motioned towards the exit ahead of them.
Sam followed directions, coming to a stop at the end of the off ramp. He turned to face his friend while the light was still red. "Tell me what the hell is going on, or I swear to God I'm pulling over right now."
Bucky made a sound of annoyance. "I needed him alive so he could tell me what the hell was going on."
The light turned green. Sam turned left onto the exit. "You were gonna interrogate him?"
Bucky shook his head, expression tight. "Didn't have to. Started talking as soon as his buddies lost their kneecaps." Breathing seemed to require a lot more energy than usual. "He seemed important."
"So you brought him with us?" Sam's voice held a hard edge.
"He was talking." He sounded annoyed, but his voice was shaking. "And we needed leverage." He reached forward and fiddled with the air conditioning. "Is it hot in here?"
The other man's eyes narrowed. He didn't say anything, just waited for him to continue.
"They tried to jump me outside my place."
Sam shot a worried glance to the passenger side. Maybe the blood was his after all. "You all right?"
Bucky didn't answer.
"How many?"
"Five. Not including him." He jerked his thumb to the backseat.
Sam nodded slowly. "Are you sure they didn't follow you?"
The super soldier just shrugged. "Don't think so. They were trying to take me somewhere. Said if I didn't cooperate they'd come for you." Bucky turned to face him, eyes gleaming with something like fear. Or determination. Or both. It was hard to tell. "They knew where you lived, Sam. And Sarah."
Sam felt a pit open up in his stomach. Okay, so this was bad bad. "Who are they?"
Bucky shook his head in frustration. "I don't know. Hydra wannabe's? A bunch of jackasses? I don't know." He dug his palms into his eyes, wincing like he was in pain.
Sam's expression twisted into one of worry as he watched his friend out of the corner of his eye. Something wasn't right here. "Where were they trying to take you? Did they say?"
The brunette screwed his eyes, still breathing hard. "You're asking too many questions."
"Sorry."
Bucky answered anyway. "They didn't say where, but they weren't planning on giving me an option." He sighed deeply and nodded towards the rearview mirror. "This one tried to tranq me." A long pause as he tried to catch his breath. "Right before I shot him."
Sam hit the brakes, sliding to a stop at another red light. "What?"
Bucky didn't say anything, just tipped his head back onto the seat, closing his eyes.
"Bucky, what do you mean they tried to tranq you?" Sam shot him another look as the light turned green again. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he should probably keep driving.
The super soldier's eyes slid lazily over to Sam. "I mean they tried to. Just wasn't...strong enough." His eyelashes fluttered, and Sam's heart skipped a beat.
"Woah, okay. I'm gonna guess it was strong enough." His eyes kept darting from the road, to his friend in the passenger seat, then back again.
Bucky groaned softly. "I had 'em."
Sam felt fear gather in his gut. "I'm sure you did."
Bucky dragged in another breath, eyes screwed shut stubbornly. He was trying to fight it, Sam realized. He had been fighting back a sedative strong enough to knock out a super soldier this whole time, and Sam hadn't even noticed. How did he do it? Sheer willpower? Sam wouldn't put it past him.
"I really thought I could...he wasn't supposed...to die." Bucky's words were coming slower. "I don't do...that anymore."
Sam glanced in the rearview mirror at the bloodied corpse in the backseat. Shit. What was he supposed to do about that? "Hey, man, stay with me." He reached over with his right hand and shook Bucky's arm.
The super soldier tipped his head to the side, watching Sam drive. "They can't..." His eyes rolled dangerously. "I won't let them...get you. Or...or Sarah. I swear."
Sam's heart was pounding fast. They were out of the city, into the suburbs. Where were they going? Bucky had been giving him directions, but he was quickly becoming incapacitated. "Just hang on, okay? Tell me where we're going." He should be going to Louisiana. He should get to Sarah. What if they'd already gotten to her? Sam felt nauseous.
Bucky dragged in a long breath that sounded like it hurt. "Safe house." He lifted his vibranium arm and gestured vaguely at the road. "I's jus....a little further...to the left." His words were slurred to the point Sam almost couldn't understand him. The drugs were going to win this round.
Sam swallowed thickly. This was bad. This was so bad. He had a body in his backseat and Bucky passing out on the passenger side and he didn't know where he was going. Not to mention unnamed bad guys threatening his sister. This was a shitshow.
"You're such a....good driver. You...even use the..."Bucky waved his metal arm around drunkenly. "...the fuckin uh..."
Sam looked over, eyebrows drawn tight in worry. "The turn signals?"
Bucky gave him a bright, lopsided smile. "Yeah. That." He fell back against the headrest again, eyes slipping shut.
"Hey, hey, woah. Tell me where we're going, man." Sam reached over and shook him again.
Bucky let out a pained moan, this time not opening his eyes. "There's uh...barn. A...uh...." He sucked in deep breaths, fighting hard to stay awake. "I don't...fuck. Sam..."
"it's okay, you're okay." Sam kept driving, fear aching in his chest. "Just take it easy, man. Try to stay awake."
They drove in silence for a few minutes, Bucky's raspy breathing in the passenger seat, Sam's heart beating out of his chest. Finally, he spotted a dull red barn on their left, overgrown with grass and weeds. He pulled off the road, deep enough into the dirt that the car was mostly hidden by wildlife.
"Okay, let's go." He turned to Bucky and saw he was out cold. "Ah, shit." Sam got out of the car and came around to the passenger side, pulling open the door. He wondered for a moment if he should go ahead and scout the barn out, or if he should just grab Bucky and go. He didn't want to leave him alone, but didn't want to drag him into a compromising situation, either.
He decided he should probably bring him. He was worried that if he left him alone, those bastards would come for him again. "Here we go," he muttered to himself. He reached in and grabbed his friend, trying to haul him out of the car.
As soon as his hands made contact, Bucky jerked awake, eyes flashing wide in panic. His arms shot up, smacking Sam's hands away and coming up to a defensive position over his face. He tried to swivel his legs out and get a good kick in, but instead tipped forward and fell out of the car.
"Woah! Bucky, dammit." Sam caught him, dragging him from the car and letting him sprawl out on the grass. The super soldier continued to fight weakly, kicking and writhing against his hands. "Stop. Stop! Jesus." He gripped his wrists hard, forcing him to still. "Fucking stop! It's me!"
Finally, steely blue eyes cleared and fixed Sam with a hard stare. His chest heaved in ragged breaths, arms still trapped in the falcon's grip. "Sam?"
Sam sighed in relief. "Yeah, man. It's just me." He waited for a moment, letting his friend gather himself. Waiting to see if he would pass out again. "You good?"
Bucky swallowed hard, eyes darting from Sam, to the barn, then to his friend's fingers on his arms. "I'm...yeah." His eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide. "Yeah."
"Can you get up?"
Bucky nodded, then stopped abruptly. The movement seemed to make him sick. "Might need..."
Sam gripped him by the wrists and hauled him upright.
"...help," Bucky gasped at the sudden shift, leaning dangerously against Sam's hands. A strangled, pathetic sound escaped his throat. As soon as he was standing again, his knees buckled and he fell. Sam caught him against his chest, trying to steady him.
"All right, come on now, Cyberman." Sam struggled against his weight. All that metal added an insane amount of weight. "You gotta help me out here."
Bucky seemed to find his footing, and he steadied somewhat against Sam. Glazed blue eyes threatened to roll up again, and he rapidly blinked it away. "I think..."
Sam began trudging to the barn with an armload of super soldier. Damn, he was heavy. "Yeah? What do you think, Buck?" He was already out of breath. He needed to call Sarah. Get Bucky to safety and call Sarah.
"...you're...I think...you're probably..."
Sam breathed hard, trying to drag his friend's almost dead weight to the safe house. At least, he hoped this was the safe house. Otherwise, this would be pretty awkward. "Probably what?"
"Probably so...pissed," Bucky finished.
Sam laughed shortly, no real humor beneath it. "Well, I wouldn't say I'm very happy."
Bucky made a sound that Sam assumed was supposed to be a laugh. "I'm...sorry. Didn't mean to...mess up your...car."
Sam shot him a quizzical look as they reached the barn doors. "It's not my car, dumbass."
Bucky looked at him, big blue eyes so dazed and full of sincerity. "It's..." He shook his head doggedly. "Not...It's yours. I don't..." He motioned wildly with his metal arm, and Sam had to dodge before he caught vibranium to the jaw. "...don't drive."
"I know, Buck." Sam stopped in front of the barn, staring up at the doors that were shut tight against the night air. "I know."
He stood there for a second, unsure as to whether he should leave Bucky here and go check it out alone, or drag him along.
Bucky decided for him as he lurched forward out of Sam's grip and stumbled against the barn doors. Sam lunged to catch him, then stopped short when he realized his friend wasn't falling. "It's here. We're here."
Sam stepped back as Bucky snapped the lock with his left hand, then slowly creaked the door open. He nodded towards the darkness inside. "Come on..." His voice cracked and he fell against the door, letting it catch him.
"Jesus, Buck." Sam moved forward and tugged his friend's arm over his shoulders, trying to support his weight. "You coming out of it yet?"
Bucky stumbled through the dark barn with Sam. The air was heavy with humidity and the smell of hay. "Coming out...of what?"
Sam just raised his eyebrows. "Right."
They came to a stop at the back wall of the barn. It seemed completely run down and uninhabited. Weeds grew through the cracks in the wood planks and climbed through the walls. A thick layer of sawdust and hay covered the floor.
"Where are we going?" Sam glanced around, confused. They were in the wrong spot. Bucky was drugged to hell and Sam didn't know where he was going, and they were in some random person's barn.
Bucky swayed on his feet, and Sam braced himself against his weight. "Sam..." He swallowed thickly.
"Yeah, Buck." Sam was preoccupied, eyes casting around trying to find something. Anything. Why was this a safe house?
"I..." His eyelashes fluttered dangerously again. "There's a..." He pulled free of Sam's grip and stuttered forward, tripping over his own feet and crashing to his knees in the straw.
"Bucky, what..."
The super soldier leaned down, vibranium hand scattering the dirt and hay away from the floor. "Here..." He mumbled.
Sam took a step forward, watching intently. What...?
Bucky tipped forward, then righted himself. On the ground in front of him was a small trapdoor. The super soldier turned a little, searching for Sam. He looked back at him proudly. "See? I told..." He swayed, eyes flickering to the door, then back again. "...you. Told you," he repeated, shooting Sam a toothy grin.
Sam felt a rush of relief flood his body. Okay, maybe Bucky knew what he was talking about. For once.
The super soldier reached for the trap door, pulling at the handle and tipping over, catching himself on his flesh hand. He swore under his breath.
Sam stepped forward and gently pushed him out of the way. "Here. Let me." He yanked the door open with a squeal, and an explosion of dust floated into the air. A dark staircase led down, down into a black hole. A small chain dangled just below the surface, probably connected to a light bulb.
He looked over at Bucky, who was still on his knees, staring blanky at the hole in the floor. He didn't look totally present. He swayed ever so slightly, muttering something to himself under his breath.
Sam grit his teeth and climbed through the trapdoor. He reached over and pulled the chain, and light flooded the underground space. As soon as his feet hit the bottom, he was greeted with the scent of fresh earth and rain. The walls were all rock and hardened dirt. Two lonely lightbulbs dangled from opposite corners of the walls. The floor was crudely laid concrete with a few tacky rugs covering most of it. In one corner was a bed with a thin pillow and an even thinner blanket. In the other was a sink and a makeshift toilet. This was not meant for long term use, he figured.
"Damn..." Sam whispered, glancing around. It was a shitty safehouse, for sure, but it was something. He turned back to the stairs. "All right, Bucky, I'm gonna--"
Bucky was already climbing down the stairs--or, more accurately, falling down them. He moved past the first few steadily, pulling the door shut behind him, then stumbled ungracefully down the rest. Sam stayed at the bottom, letting his friend fall against his chest again. The sudden impact sent Sam stumbling a few feet before righting himself. Damn, he was heavy.
"Sorry..." Bucky mumbled.
Sam shook his head. "Why couldn't you just wait for me?"
"Taking too long." Bucky staggered forward and dropped face first onto the bed.
Sam crossed his arms over his chest and watched his friend for a minute. He looked like crap. Probably felt like crap, too. Sam dug around in the meager supply of rations before finding a bottle of water. "Drink this." He leaned down and shook Bucky's shoulder when he didn't look up.
Bucky just groaned.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Try to sleep it off. I'm gonna go take care of your buddy." He paused before pushing the trapdoor open again. "Drink your water!" He called over his shoulder.
He could hear a string of curses coming from the bed before the door fell shut again. Sam wandered around the stale space and finally found a rusty shovel in the corner. He grabbed it and carefully shut the barn door. The air was warm and sticky, and he could feel himself already beginning to sweat.
The falcon paused for a second, checking his surroundings. He didn't see anything. Didn't hear anything. Nothing but the loud chirping of crickets and the drone of cicadas. His boots crunched softly through the weeds as he approached the car again. Nothing yet.
He flipped his phone out and speed dialed his sister. She picked up on the second ring.
"Sam? What's going on?" Her voice was heavy with sleep.
"Sarah. I need you to get the boys and get out of town. Go to our spot, all right?" He glanced around nervously, waiting for bad guys to jump out of the trees.
"Sam, what's going on?"
"Just do it, all right? Cash only. Ditch your phone. You got the burner?"
"Yeah, I...yeah, but--"
"Good. I love you, Sarah. I'll call you soon, all right? Just hang tight." He felt a sickening tug in his gut as he hung up the phone. This was bad. Really bad.
He pulled the car door open and grabbed his wings first, slipping them on. Redwing hummed to life and buzzed around him happily. "Yeah, I know. He really got us into some shit, this time."
The robot hovered beside him, whirring quietly. It swiveled in a full 360, scouting the area. He didn't seem to find anything, either. Maybe they hadn't been followed, after all.
The place was empty enough, he could probably leave the body here for days before it was noticed. Sam didn't like that risk, and he didn't like the thought of not burying the man, either. He grabbed the man by both of his wrists and began the arduous task of dragging him from the car. His dead weight was heavy, and Sam had to struggle with it for a few minutes before getting a firm enough grip.
Redwing followed him away from the barn, fifty yards out. It took a long time to drag him out there, and even longer to dig the hole. He wasn't surprised when the sun began to come up as he finished.
Sam dropped the shovel and sank to the ground. The temperature was rising, and he was dripping with sweat from the hard work. Jesus, he should've waited til Bucky woke up and made him do this. It was his mess, after all.
Finally, he left the shovel where it lay and walked back to the car. Bucky was surely awake enough by now. They needed to hit the road. And maybe get something to eat. The rear passenger door was still open, and Sam reached out to shut it when he noticed something. A tiny, red blinking light was smushed in between the seats. If it weren't for the sunlight, he wouldn't have noticed it mixed in with all the blood. What the...?
Dirt crusted fingernails dug between the cushions and pulled out a small, rectangular object, almost like a pill. Oh, crap. He knew what this was.
Sam snapped his wings open the same second gunfire erupted. Bullets peppered the back of his wings and he had to brace himself against the force. "Redwing, go get 'em!" A few commands from the suit and the little robot was zipping through the air, firing away into the treeline.
Sam ducked behind the open car door, shielding himself from any more bullets. They pinged off the metal and fell dead into the weeds. He needed to get to Bucky. He needed a plan and he needed to get to Bucky. Fast.
Sam crawled into the car, ducking low to avoid bullets as the back window shattered around him. He ripped the glovebox open so hard it fell off the hinges. His fingers casted around blindly before settling on something useful. For a second, he appreciated Bucky's paranoia.
Sam threw open the front door and crouched behind it. Spinning on his heel, he reached one arm over the metal and squeezed the trigger. A small disc shot from the barrel and disappeared into the trees. Sam pressed his fingers into his ears.
A deafening explosion rocked the landscape. A giant fireball erupted from the trees and billowed out into a black cloud. Whoever was out there, they were toasted now. Redwing picked off a few strays before giving him an all clear chirp.
"Thanks, buddy." Sam's eyes darted around the field, scanning the treeline for more threats. He knew there were more. There had to be more. One good shot wasn't going to save them. Sam jammed the weapon and a few extra discs into his pockets before making a mad dash for the barn.
There were, strangely enough, no more bullets. This wasn't right. Something wasn't right. The barn door had fallen shut again, and Sam checked behind him before pulling it open just enough to slip inside. "Bucky!" He checked outside one more time before closing it behind him. "Buck, I hope you're awake 'cause we gotta--" The words died in his throat.
Seven men stood in front of him, dressed in black and varying amounts of kevlar. Sam scanned the group, tensed and ready to fight. His wings shot out behind him and Redwing darted into the barn, chirping loudly. "Yeah, I see that..." Sam answered the robot absently.
Bucky was in the middle of them, brought to his knees with a man on either side of him, hands bound behind his back. The man who Sam presumed to be the leader had a fistful of Bucky's hair, forcing his head up and pressing the muzzle of a pistol below his chin. The super soldier was breathing hard under his grip, eyes half closed and delirious. Sam could see blood running down his temple. Oh, crap.
"Ah, Captain America. Where is my brother?"