Dean heard the sound too. It made his gut twist, and it took all he had not to go rushing off to find out where they’d locked Sam up and get him out. That was what brothers were supposed to do. They were supposed to go when the little brother called for help, but this time? This time Sammy was in too deep for Dean to help him.
Gauging from the direction of the screams, Dean guessed that they had Sam locked in the panic room. It was a good choice, and it would keep him from getting out until he could sober up. The last thing he wanted to do was hear it, though. It was grating on his nerves, his willpower, his every last bit of self control. No doubt Ben could hear it upstairs…but there was no need to drag him downstairs and make it louder.
He wondered where his priorities should lie. Was he supposed to be SuperDad and get Ben out of the house to shield him from Sammy’s stupid decision? Was he supposed to be the awesome brother and go sit outside the door until Sam detoxed off of the blood to the point where he could hear reason? He wasn’t sure what to do, but what he did know was that he needed to see his son with his own two eyes, and see how he was handling this before he made any decisions.
“I think we can keep him distracted upstairs,” he said uncertainly. “Or we can take him out.” Realizing how ambiguous his words were, especially given the situation and what Sam was so deadest on becoming, he clarified himself hastily. “I mean take Ben outside.”