AN: Hey everybody. Sorry for the wait, but I made my school's musical so I've got a heck of a lot less free time now. But, I am enjoying myself immensely. Okay- so- I can't call myself a true Hurt!Sam fan until I've done a fic with clowns. Yup, this is happening, people. Don't want to give away too much yet, so for now, just enjoy! Story and chapter titles are from a Three Days Grace song, On My Own.
Sam was happy, dammit! He had friends, a girlfriend, and a possibility of the normal life he'd been praying for since he was six. He was free to wake up with a hangover rather than a concussion from being thrown into a wall. Free to study law rather than the life of a deceased serial killer. Free to just live life, rather than constantly fear that he could lose it.
He was finally just- free.
Well, that was before the bodies started to show up. Broken, tortured, mutilated bodies. Even for someone as accustomed to corpses as Sam, it was still horrific enough to make his gut clench.
"No." He would still mentally insist. "I'm never going back to that. Someone else will take care of it."
That was three weeks ago. Either other hunters weren't seeing it, or they just didn't care.
Maybe just a little investigating wouldn't hurt. Yeah, investigating, no actual hunting, just the research. He could let himself do that much, right?
Trying to gather all the facts as a student had been noticeably more difficult than when he pretended to be a journalist or something of the like. But he was done with that life, done with the lies.
Sneaking into a crime scene past curfew wasn't the same as lying right? That was how Sam justified it anyway.
"Not hunting, just researching, not hunting, just researching." He muttered inwardly as he peered into the room of the most recent victim.
"Oh, hell, what am I doing here?" He scolded in his head, but he didn't stop examining the scene. "Stop saying 'scene.' This was somebody's home." His mind was at war with itself, just a battle of pure contradiction.
Pushing his mental war aside for a moment, Sam moved his attention to the window, and what he saw made him jump away as though the substance itself could do him harm.
Sulfur.
Okay, this was way too far past his comfort zone. He could barely stand his own sparring with Dean. There was no way in hell itself that he could ever take on a demon alone.
But, dammit, where was another hunter when he needed one?
Well... There were always two he knew of. Sam shook his head, washing to thought away. He knew what would happen should he contact Dean or his father. He'd get a lecture about he shouldn't have left them in the first place, and then receive no help whatsoever.
Maybe there was nothing he could do to bring someone's attention to this case, but sitting idly by while people died made him just as guilty as the demon. At least that's how he was raised to feel about the matter.
Just as he was about to move away from the sulfur, he noticed something had been etched into the yellow dust. Seriously, how did people always miss this stuff?
Upon closer inspection, Sam knew how much of a mistake it was to have come here. Because there, written in the sulfur, was his name. Not even his real one, but the one so often used against him.
Sammy.
Stumbling backwards in fear, Sam was set to run back to his own dorm, but instead, he ran smack into something.
Someone.
The black eyes glistened in the moonlight, solidifying that it was indeed a demon. But that wasn't what scared Sam the most. No, not the unmistakable eyes of a demon, but the human it was possessing.
It was wearing a clown.
"So the rumours are true." The thing announced happily. "Sammy's got a little Coulrophobia, doesn't he?"
He'd left this life, this wasn't fair! "St-stay the hell away from me!" Sam worked up the courage to stutter as he tried to scramble away.
The demon raised its gloved hands in mock innocence. "Whatever you want, buddy." It flicked a finger, sending Sam tumbling into the furthest back wall.
Hitting back first, Sam crumpled to the floor. He brought himself to his hands and knees with a groan, only to be thrown aside again, left shoulder smacking first, and denting the plaster this time.
"I'm surprised at you, Sammy." The demon remarked casually as it flicked him to the opposite wall. "Thought you were supposed to be the one with a heart in your family." This time, it hurled him into the ceiling, but with a lot more force this time. Sam didn't even try to move again when he finally landed again. "But I had to kill waaaay more people than I originally planned."
With a huff and a cough due to the settling dust, Sam lifted his head. "W-why?"
"To get your attention, of course!" The makeup widened red lips pulled apart in a far too eager smile. "Heard some pretty fun stuff about you, wanted to see it for myself." The smile faded as the demon cocked its head, yellow, curled wig bouncing at the motion. "I gotta say, I'm a little disappointed as of right now though."
"Wh-" Sam panted. "What do you want with me?"
"Why, to figure out what makes you so special! This is strictly off the record, you understand. They'd have my head downstairs if they found out I laid a hand on you, so keep this just between us, okay?"
Screw that. Digging into the back of his mind for the exorcism he'd never forgotten, Sam started spewing it out in a desperate attempt to end this before it got any further.
Twitching at the ritual, the demon scowled. "Rude." The demon made a half fist, stopping the air in Sam's throat, and in turn, the exorcism. "And I thought we were having such a nice talk, Sammy."
Gasping for the air he couldn't have, Sam's mouth moved, Adam's apple convulsing in a panic for oxygen. Gradually, he felt himself pulled up by the invisible force around his neck until he was hovering in mid-air. He knew his eyes were wide in fear because Oh, God... he was gonna die.
Being flung into the wall one last time and finally passing out was the greatest of mercies.
Waking up to the sound of chains clinking together was definitely not Sam's idea of a good time. He was a Winchester, being kidnapped and tied up was nothing new to him, but being chained to the ceiling high enough that his bare toes only barely scraped the ground? Yeah, that was a twist on the normal crap that ruined his life.
Giving the chains a yank for a test, he felt the cool metal tug his wrists, and that was when he realised that he was shirtless. He was briefly grateful for the fact that his pants had been left on, but considering the overall situation he was in, his modesty was probably the least at stake.
Clowns had always made Sam uneasy, but that wasn't too outrageous was it? Well, it wouldn't have been for a normal kid, but looking back on all the things Sam had encountered even then, maybe it should have been irrational. He had a feeling that this experience may end up reigniting his fears.
Honestly, up until he'd run into it, he thought he had outgrown the terror, but the sight had shaken him to his core, making him feel like nothing more than a child unable to sleep in the midst of a thunderstorm. And damn the thing for doing that. Sam was strong, he should be able to handle this!
But truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure he could.
When he huffed in frustration upon realising that the chains were sturdy, he noticed something else. He was gagged. A cloth, a bandana he guessed, had been wrapped and tied tightly behind his head, stretching his mouth obscenely wide, almost to the point of it being painful. Looks like an exorcism was out of the question now.
With a creak, the door across from his current position swung open, the demonic clown standing beneath its frame. The teeth beneath the painted smile gleamed in the poorly lit room. "Morning, Sammy!"
"Stop calling me that." Sam growled mentally, but only a snarl escaped the gag.
Sauntering up to him, the demon gave the chains a harsh yank, just for show. It briefly ran a gloved hand through Sam's hair before he jerked his head away. "Comfy?" It asked with a false sweetness.
Unable to do much else, Sam just shot it a bithcface.
"Stubborn. I like that. Won't last, but I like it. Name's Raef by the way. No one special, just your average, curious demon. Now," It grabbed Sam's face, the fabric clad fingers digging painfully into his cheeks. "I've heard the stories about you." Raef's tone lost its touch of humour, and he only tightened his grip as Sam tried to squirm away. "Show me what makes you so special."
What? What the hell was it talking about? Sam felt his head cock slightly and eyebrows knit together in confusion.
"Don't play stupid with me!" It shouted furiously, spit landing on Sam's frightened and bewildered face. "Show me a miracle, boy. Just make me not want to hurt you."
Oh, God, it was insane! Tugging on the chains, Sam allowed himself to panic and cry out muffled words of protest, shaking his head frantically.
Raef sighed. "Fine. I gave you your chance." And then it left.
Sagging down in relief, Sam exhaled. "Why the hell does it think I'm special? What does 'special' mean to a demon?"
His thoughts were interrupted when Raef returned, this time pushing a cart, and humming.
Sam swallowed, mouth going dry, and face draining of colour at the sight of what was on it. Whips, knives, chains, needles, scalpels, the list went on.
Once more, Sam thrashed in his chains to free himself, but the result was the same. He was well and truly trapped.
Raef's fingers brushed over his toys, mind buzzing as he tried to figure out which one to use first. When he traced a finger along the firm handle of the whip, he knew how to start off this whole shebang.
Sam's eyes followed the demon as it slipped behind him. He snapped them shut when the whip cracked against the floor.
Without a doubt, Sam knew his fear was never going away after this.
"Remember, Sammy," Raef cooed, giving the whip another test against the cemented floor. "I'll stop as soon as you show me a miracle. How much pain it takes to get you there is entirely up to you."
"You're crazy!" Sam tried to shout, but it came out as nothing but muffled nonsense. He was so screwed.
There was a brief chuckle behind him, and then Sam felt the impact of the whip on his back.
At some point in their lives, everyone's been snapped with a rubber band. They all know the fleeting numbness, then the inevitable sting that follows. If snapped hard enough, the skin will redden and rise up, sensitive to even the lightest of touches.
Being whipped was about one-thousand times worse.
Sam wasn't even sure that Raef had broken the skin, but he felt the skin and nerves ignite, worsening as he was helpless to stop his back from arching. He was unable to make a single sound, whether it was due to the shock, or the knowledge that if he didn't choke down the sound that he would scream in agony, plea, try to bargain away this misery, but he was raised never to beg, never show how much the bad guys were hurting you.
But oh, GOD was it hurting him.
'I miss you, Dean.' Or, 'I wonder how Dean and John are doing.' Were not uncommon thought for Sam. But the one he thought right then was not one he had often.
"Dean... I need you."
AN: Anyone know where Raef's name comes from? I swear, it's not even creative. First one to get it right gets a little shout-out next chapter. Everyone who reviews always gets personal message from me anyway, but I'll slip in a hint to review any chance I can. Luckily, I know where I'm headed with this story, and I'm almost done with the next chapter, so y'all know what that means.
Sneak Peek: "'Good boy. Now,' He pulled out a knife, relishing in the mortified gleam in Sam's eyes. 'Hold still.'"
Hopefully I won't take forever to update, but I have only one day to myself every week, so I will do my best to get the next one up ASAP! See y'all soon!