Hey! I decided to do another chapter right away. I still need to get you guys interested in this story! I see you all who already added this story to your watch and favorites. Thank you! And to those of you who reviewed, I love you!
Author's notes at the end to avoid chapter spoilers
As Dean began to regain consciousness, the first thing he was aware of was the cold. It was not unbearable, but definitely past the point of uncomfortable. He shivered. The second thing he was aware of was the pain. Again, not unbearable. Just the dull throb of being in one position for too long. He tried to shift his body, but found that it was very difficult to move. The third thing Dean was aware of was a noise. A soft, incoherent mumbling. It sounded human, and whoever it was sounded like they were no better off than Dean. Unable to do anything else, Dean focused on the sound of the voice. He tried to make out the almost-words. "Whann" and "hellsh" and "D'nn".
The last one cut straight through the lingering clouds of unconsciousness as Dean recognized his own name being called, the voice was clearly Sam's. Dean's eyes shot open and he scanned the dimly lit room. The scene before him was hard to comprehend given that Dean couldn't remember the events leading up to waking up on the floor of an unfamiliar room. He found Sam immediately. His younger brother was directly across from him, shirtless and tied to a chair. The rope was tightly secured around Sam's wrists, ankles and chest. Whoever put him there clearly took extra precaution to make sure Sam wouldn't escape.
Dean tried moving to get to Sam, but quickly found that he too was restrained. His arms were pulled painfully around a pole behind his back and tied tightly by the wrists. Another rope was secured around his waist, so that he was unable to slide up into a standing position. He sat on the cold cement floor.
"Sam?" Dean called out, but Sam didn't respond other than to roll his head lazily to one side and groan. Dean quickly tried to assess his brother's body for damage. As far as Dean could see, there was none, and Dean figured that Sam was just still half-unconscious from whatever force had brought them there. Dean resorted to studying the room until Sam woke up or their captor returned, whichever happened first.
It appeared that they were in some sort of old warehouse and the realization troubled Dean as he considered the uses of an abandoned warehouse when it came to kidnapping people. The lighting was dim and thick dust reflected what little light there was, creating a glowing haze around the room. Forgotten crates cast elongated shadows across the cold cement floor and Dean could hear the skittering of mice or some other small creatures somewhere in the dark corners of the room. Dean continued to twist his hands in an attempt to loosen the ties. He could feel the rope cutting into his wrists and the warm blood as it rose from under the friction of the rope and cooled on his skin.
"Sammy." He called again and watched hopefully as his brother stirred, rolling his head back slowly, only to let it drop again to his chest. Dean waited. A second later Sam's head snapped up again and his eyes opened slowly.
"Dean?" Sam blinked slowly, only half awake.
"Yeah, Sam. I'm here." Dean reassured him.
"Wha... what happened?" Sam looked confused as he began to take in their surroundings, and realized that he was tied up.
"Not sure." Dean gritted his teeth as he continued to work the rope that held his wrists. "Last thing I remember is the bar."
"The bar..." Sam repeated, more as a thought to himself than to Dean.
"You alright?" Dean asked. "Are you hurt?"
Sam wiggled as best he could in the chair, testing his body to see if anything felt broken. "I'm good." He replied finally. "You?"
"I'm fine. We gotta get out of here, man. Whatever this is, it isn't good."
Sam silently agreed, and began moving what little amount the ropes would allow, attempting to loosen their hold. Sudden footsteps alerted Dean to possible danger and he stiffened, preparing for whatever might come next. Sam heard the steps and stilled as well. They both waited.
"Well, well, well." A voice sounded from behind a shadow. Deep. Male. Unfamiliar. "If it isn't the Winchester boys. Sam and Dean. The last time I saw you two..." The voice trailed off as the man stepped into the light enough for Dean to see. He was a tall man, almost as tall as Sam, with black shoulder-length hair pulled into a ponytail and a scar that extended from under his left eye down to his chin. Dean didn't recognize the man and looked to Sam for confirmation. Sam shrugged.
"What. You boys don't remember me?" The man laughed and stepped closer until he was positioned in between the brothers. "I'm hurt." He chuckled again. "I guess I'm not surprised. Like I was saying, I haven't seen you two since you were just kids. Sam, I think you were probably 5." He took a step closer to the younger Winchester and Dean squirmed, uncomfortable with the man's interest in Sam.
"Who are you?" Dean growled, attempting to take the man's focus off his brother.
The man turned back to Dean with a smug smile on his face. "And Dean." He said calmly. "That would have made you, what, 8? 9? I'm a little bit surprised you don't remember." When Dean didn't respond, the man continued his monologue. "The name's Marcus. I guess you're just not as observant as your daddy thought. But then, I always knew that. Just not the hunter he wanted you to be." Dean gritted his teeth at the mention of his father, and Marcus continued with a smile, knowing that he had hit a nerve. "Hell, Dean, you didn't even realize the girls at the bar were only playing you. Didn't notice when they drugged your drink, did ya? No... and now poor Sammy is going to have to pay the price for your lack of attention to detail."
At that, Dean pulled hard on his restraints and grunted when the thick rope didn't show any sign of loosening. "What do you want?" He asked bitterly.
"Well, you see, John was a friend of mine. Key word being was, and don't mean because he's dead, I mean because he screwed up. Ruined my life." Marcus paused at a table and ran his hand against something that Dean couldn't see. His stomach dropped when Marcus picked up the object and Dean saw that it was a steel pipe. Marcus swung the pipe in his hands like a baseball player practicing his swing. "He killed my boy, you understand? I guess your daddy wasn't the hunter I thought he was either. He screwed up. And my son paid the price."
Marcus swung the bar angrily and stopped just inches from Sam's head. Sam flinched away and Dean tensed. "So what, you're going to kill us to get back at our dad?" Dean asked, desperate to get the man's attention off Sam. "That's real noble."
"That's not what this is." Marcus said turning to face Dean, but not stepping any further away from Sam. "Well," He added with a smug smile. "That's not entirely true. You see, your daddy? He trusted me. Kinda like how I trusted him. You know how well that turned out for me." Marcus turned his attention back to Sam. "He told me about you, Sam. Told me that the demon had plans for you. He told me that! And then he killed my son."
Dean's heart raced as he put together what the older man was saying. This was a twisted attempt at revenge mixed with fighting what the man believed to be evil. Dean could see the fire in Marcus' eyes. He didn't care if he was wrong. He wasn't going to listen to reason. This was personal.
"I'm a hunter." Marcus continued. "I've been watching you boys. I know you have visions, Sam. I can't let you walk around when I know what you are. I can't let you live. I'm a better hunter than John. I don't make mistakes that get other people killed."
"Hold on." Sam started, but Marcus cut him off.
"And then there's the revenge thing. I'm not gonna lie, Dean." Marcus put a hand on Sam's shoulder and turned his head to Dean. "I'm not gonna let Sammy here go easily. I'm going to drag this out." He paused for dramatic effect. "For my son." He said through clenched teeth, stressing every word.
"If you lay a hand on him I swear to god I will kill you." Dean threatened, unable to do anything else to protect his brother.
Marcus' tone turned playful again and he took a step back, twirling the pipe in his hands.
"These intros are so awkward, don't you think? I mean, where in the rule book does it say that you have to explain your intentions to evil demon children before you kill them?" Marcus laughed and stopped twirling the pipe. "Well. Now that that's over, how about we get to work!" He swung the pipe hard on the last word and Dean cringed as the hard metal made contact with Sam's chest.
Sam huffed as the air was forcefully pushed from his lungs and gasped as he tried to suck it back in. Marcus swung the pipe again across Sam's chest and then on his leg. Sam cried out with the last painful strike and threw his head back in a desperate attempt to suck in the air that his body screamed for.
"Stop!" Dean cried, panicked. "Please!"
Marcus stopped and turned to face Dean. "The thing is, Dean, I'm not here to ask questions or bargain. I have all the cards and you got nothing. All I want is to kill something evil, and there's nothing you can offer me that will change my mind."
"Kill me." Dean pleaded. "Please."
"Dean... no." Sam said between gasped breaths.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Dean." Marcus said. "But for now it has to be Sam."
"He's not evil!" Dean shouted.
"Yes he is!" Marcus was suddenly angry. "John knew it. He told you, Dean."
Sam raised his head. "What's he talking about?" He asked.
"Sammy, nothing." Dean said, desperate to keep the secret from Sam and not add to the pain his younger brother was already suffering.
"You didn't tell him?" Marcus asked, sounding sincerely surprised. "I'm surprised. I thought you two were close." He shrugged. "Your daddy knew that there was something evil in you, Sam. He told Dean about it before he died. He told him that he'd have to kill you himself."
Sam furrowed his brow and looked to Dean. Dean could see the disbelief and betrayal in his eyes. Sam didn't want to believe what Marcus was saying, but he had to hear it from Dean. This is not happening, Dean thought. Damn it. This cannot be happening.
"Dean?"
"Sammy." Dean whispered, not knowing how to tell his brother, without hurting him, the secret that had been plaguing him for weeks. Was he supposed to lie? It was too late for that now. Sam could read Dean just as well as Dean could read Sam, and Dean was sure it was obvious that there was at least some truth to what Marcus was saying. Some secret that Dean wasn't telling him. "I never even considered it. I would never..." His voice trailed off as Sam bit his lip and looked away from Dean, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. It didn't matter that Dean would never act on his father's words, what mattered was that all the worry that Sam had been enveloped in was now justified. Every time Dean had told him not to worry, that he wasn't going to go dark side, it was all a lie – because Dean had known all along that there was something to worry about.
"So there is something evil in me."
"No." Dean said quickly. "It was only if I couldn't save you, Sam. Dad said I had to save you. I'm going to save you. Sammy?" Dean pleaded when Sam didn't respond.
"Well this has been touching to watch." Marcus chimed in. "Really, better than the Hallmark channel, but we should get back to work." He smiled as he swung the pipe again. Dean flinched and looked away as it made contact with his brother's chest, and Dean heard the sharp crack of a rib as it broke on impact.
Sam tried his hardest not to give Marcus the satisfaction of hearing him yell from the pain, but the cracking of bones and Sam's sporadic breathing was telling enough. He was feeling every blow. Dean watched helplessly as Marcus brought the pipe down on Sam again and again, until Sam could no longer hold up his own head and he let his chin fall to his chest and whispered breathlessly, "Please."
"Stop it, damn it!" Dean's voice was hoarse from yelling, but Marcus ignored the rising panic in the older Winchester. It only took a few more powerful blows before Sam made a small gasping noise and his body relaxed. Thank god. Dean thought as the older man stopped his merciless beating, though Dean knew that God had absolutely nothing to do with it.
"Nick, check their ties." Marcus said as he left the room, dropping the bloody pipe to the ground.
Dean watched in horror as the kid from the motel lobby stepped out of the shadows. Had he been there the whole time? Nick checked Sam's ropes and then made his way to Dean, painfully tightening the rope even more, and reversing what little progress Dean had made over the past half hour.
"Nick." Dean pleaded, desperate to try anything to save his brother. "You don't have to do this. Untie me. We can all walk away and nobody has to get hurt."
Nick glared down at Dean, and Dean saw no hope in the young man's eyes. "Your daddy killed my brother." Nick said in the same monotonous tone he had used at the motel. "And now my daddy's gonna kill your brother." No sign of emotion registered on Nick's face as he turned to leave.
"Shit!" Dean yelled once he was alone with his brother's beaten and unconscious body. Nick had recognized them back at the motel, Dean was sure of it. The girls at the bar were in on it, too. They had drugged the drinks and Dean had even known something was off, but let alcohol cloud his judgment. He had led them right into this nightmare and now Sam was the one suffering for his mistakes.
In the dim light, Dean strained his eyes to see how much damage there was to Sam's body. He had a gash over his right eye that, in the nature of a head wound, was bleeding way more than should be possible. The blood ran down Sam's face and dripped onto his chest, making it difficult to see where Sam actually had cuts and where the blood was just leftover from some other wound. The skin along Sam's ribs was already starting to turn into a large purple bruise.
"Sammy?" Dean called softly, but the younger hunter didn't move. He watched closely for the rise and fall of Sam's chest, indicating that he was at least still breathing, and allowed himself a moment to be relieved when he saw the small movement – Sam's breathing was shallow, but he was breathing. Dean restarted the painful task of loosening the ropes around his wrists as he waited for his brother to wake up, praying that he would be able to find a way to save Sam from this hell.
Authors note: I know Marcus is a bit like Gordon's character (minus the revenge thing) and I apologize for not being more creative.
Ok! There's chapter 2! Poor Sam isn't out of the woods yet. Will they even make it out alive? I haven't decided. Please, please review! More reviews = quicker updates!
