Hello Everyone! Thanks for taking a look at this angst-filled journey! :) I hope you enjoy Chapter 2 and any comments you would like to leave will be truly appreciated! Thanks again for giving this story a chance...
I don't feel so good. Sam, did the ghost get me? Or you? Are you okay? Sammy?
Dean tries to open his eyes, to find his brother but, well, only one of his eyes seems to be working at the moment. He's flooded in an instant with the realization of what is actually happening here. He has now assumed the fetal position and covers his head with his hands to deny any access to his face. Right, being manhandled by a bunch of societal rejects. Oh, and they have just figured out that I don't have what they want. Here comes the pain Dean, here comes the pain.
"Shit! All this effort, all this trouble and what do we get? Nothin! This guy has got nothing on him! Unbelievable! This really pisses me off!" And with that, yahoo #1 winds up and delivers a hate-filled kick to Dean's side. Yahoo smiles as his ears hear a grunt of pain escape his victim's lips. Maybe not a total loss for the night then. "Not so tough anymore are we buddy?" He grabs Dean by the scruff of his jacket, pulls him up to a sitting position and leans him against the side of a dumpster. He reaches down and grabs his knife, holding the blade only inches away from Dean's face and sees the undeniable terror in his eye. "Not gonna kill ya dude but really, even you must admit that you deserve a little cuttin' for all the effort we have put into you just to come up empty. Right?"
Keep your mouth shut. Just keep it shut Dean. Shit! I can't NOT say something to these yokels. "Yeah, sorry for," god, my side aches "..putting a damper," just breathe Dean "... on your plans for the evening." Okay, another punch to the face. Stop while you're ahead Dean. Can't. Gotta be a smartass, you know how it is. "Maybe there's an old lady you can rough up around the corner for her change purse? Pussies." Huh, was that the back of my skull making that sound? So that's what bone against dumpster sounds like...hmm...who knew? Uh-oh, get a grip Dean, stay focused.
"How is it that you are still alive with that kinda mouth dude?" Kick number two is delivered on target once again to Dean's side. "Okay, time to do a little slice and dice hey? Maybe you will keep that mouth of yours shut the next time you find yourself in this kind of situation, which probably won't take to long with that attitude of yours right?" He feels his victim try to squirm away, try to fight against the oncoming pain but yahoo has no problem subduing him. He's practically like putty in his hands. "Hmm...where to cut first? Cheek? Chin? Forehead? Nah, I'm thinking I'll go for the neck first." Dean is panting and panicking and yahoo is loving the power he has right now over him. He takes the knife and slashes it across his neck. Not deep, nothing to cause permanent damage but he knows by the reaction he gets that it hurts like hell.
"Sonofabch! Alistair! Stop!" Please just leave, go away, leave me here. No more cutting. No more slicing. God, don't peel my skin off! Don't cut out my tongue. Leave me my eyes! Gotta get away, gotta get away!
Dean tries to scurry back from his tormentor but can't seem to move, he's trapped against something solid. Instead, he grabs hold of his attacker's hand, desperately trying to release the grip it has on the blade. He looks up into Alistair's face. Wait. What? Not Alistair. Who? He feels a chuckle work it's way out of his burning lungs. Right. Yokels. Yahoos. Inbred. Looking for cash. Not finding any. Not in Hell. Just in a back alley somewhere. Thank God for that. Not so bad then I guess. At least I won't burn this time. He releases his hold of the arm and lets his hand drop into his lap.It's okay Dean, this is not Hell. You are not in Hell.
"Hey, we gotta get going! Just leave him and lets get the hell out of here before someone comes!" Yahoo looks to his buddy and back to Dean. Yeah, this was fun but not worth getting carted off to the slammer for. Besides, this dude is really messed up and won't remember any of this shit anyways. Ah well, can't have fun all night I suppose.
"Yeah, okay, just one more second. Keep a watch on the road!"
Wow, these guys just keep supplying the ammo. How am I just supposed to forget I hear it? I can't keep it inside, it is just so good not to share with others. "Bettr git goin... y're momma will be worried. Don' wanna get grounded do ya? Or maybe you want a good spankin?" Shit Dean, shut up already.
This guy is really asking for it right? So, not really my fault right? Maybe just one or two more cuts. Who knew inflicting pain on others would be such a high? It feels pretty good and this dick really did ask for it. "Okay buddy, well, you obviously enjoy the pain since you keep asking for more in your own special way. We're almost done. It's almost time for you to have a little nap. But, this is just so much fun and since you can't keep that smart-ass mouth shut, how about you let me hear one more scream of pain from ya okay? Hmm.. let's see... where to go this time?" Yahoo travels his eyes up and down, trying to find the exact spot that would garner a scream from Mr. Tough Guy here. Ah, yeah, how about a nice slice across the wrists? If he happens to bleed out before anyone finds him then so be it. Grabbing Dean's left wrist he holds it in a vice grip, sees a nice plump vein running through it and swipes the blade across it.
"Ahhh! Shit! Stop! God!" Dean attempts to free himself but it is a useless effort, his whole being seems to erupt in pain.
"Shhh, it's okay, not to worry. Just one more wrist to go and I will just be an unpleasant memory to you my friend."
No! No more cutting! Dean fights with what strength he has left but is distracted by the way he can hear his heart beat, his pulse thumping along. That's not good right? He feels the stickiness of his fluid, of his blood, as it spills from his nose, from his neck, from his wrist, onto his jeans, onto the ground. Bloodloss is bad right? Spots? Seeing spots is bad right Sammy? Sammy? You okay? He feels another stab of paint shoot through his right wrist. His vision continues to cloud over and he just wants to have a little nap. Hey, it's okay. I wanted to be numb right? I mean, I would have preferred the numbing effects of alcohol instead but hey, this is still good. This..is numb..too. Numb. Is. Numb. Right?
"Nighty-night tough guy. Sweet dreams." He wipes the blood from his knife and his hands onto Dean's jacket, releases the grip he has on him and watches as he lists to the side and falls to the ground in a heap. Yahoo stands up, admires his handiwork for one more moment and looks over his shoulder to his buddies. "Okay guys, time to get the hell out of here!"
TBC...
