Back For Good Chapter two.
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"Damnit Sam!" Dean thumped down in a seat next to the kitchen table and read the letter again, tears threatening to spill over.
Dean,
I'm sorry. I would have left sooner if I'd realised just how much I was hurting you; I knew you didn't want me around but couldn't leave well enough alone. After all those years you looked out for me, and I let you down time and again.
I won't be going back to Stanford; can't face it after what happened to Jess, and besides, too much has happened and too much time has passed for me to go back down that path. I'm not cut out for that life anymore. Guess you and Dad were right.
Gonna hit the road instead. Not sure where I'm heading but I promise you won't have to hear from me again.
Stay safe for me bro, that's all I ask.
Sam.
Dean scrunched the note up in his fist, shoulders shaking, effort of holding back the sobs just too big. As if he hadn't lost enough, now he'd pushed away his only family, forced Sam to leave and put him in danger.
Refusing to waste anymore time, he grabbed the keys to one of Bobby's old heaps and slammed out the kitchen. He intended to find his little brother, make sure he was ok, get him medical attention if necessary, then they were going to set a few things straight.
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The blindfold was wrenched away from his face shortly before another blast of icy water assailed him, leaving Sam blinking rapidly and gasping at the chill. Once his vision was clear a grinning Meg-possessed-Richard was at eye level. Sam virtually snarled around his gag, which only caused the demon's grin to widen.
"Still full of that fighting Winchester spirit huh Sam?" Richard leaned closer and the grin turned into scowl. "Full of shit more like!" His hands moved quickly and suddenly Sam was warily eyeing the approaching syringe. He shifted in his seat as the demon brought it closer, hand steady as a rock, thumb already hovering over the plunger.
As he felt the needle sink into his neck Sam was yanking violently at the ropes securing his wrists and elbows, the chair itself rocking dangerously on its legs. The burn wasn't like before, when he was first taken. This didn't relax him or knock him out; just the opposite. White hot pain raged through his body and his muffled screams echoed round the room, bouncing of the walls and coming back at him mockingly. His body was on fire from head to toe, and he prayed to pass out. But no such mercy came for him, the pain keeping him trapped in a waking nightmare.
It seemed to go on for hours, until he slumped in the chair sobbing softly, his bonds the only thing stopping him from sliding off into a puddle on the floor. He tried so hard not to think of rescue, that notion a bearer of false hope; Dean didn't know where he was, let alone that Sam was in trouble.
Would he even come for me if he did?
'Course he would. He might hate me but he wouldn't want to see me hurt or suffering, right?
It was too hard to hold on. Sam was alone; he had no one left in the world that truly cared about him, and he was even passed the point of being afraid. He knew he wouldn't survive this and he wasn't going to fight it any longer. It was ok though, so long as Dean never had to find out.
A hand grasped his hair, painfully yanking his head back and Richard gazed at him appraisingly, a lopsided smile curling the corner of his mouth. Sam stared back through half-closed eyelids.
"So, you don't think he'll rescue you? Your big brother? I don't know...he's a prideful one, sure. Doesn't like the thought of anyone messing with what's rightfully his." A smug yet curious smile crossed his features. "But he kicked you out, right? You've been nothing but a thorn in his side since the day you were born..." The demon watched him closely with considerable satisfaction. "Yeeesss, that's right huh? You were useful for a while, but now you're nothing but a burden Sam. One big useless. Waste. Of. Space. No wonder Dean couldn't wait to get rid of you." The demon appeared to study Sam's face, gazing intently into his eyes. "No. You haven't had quite enough yet."
Sam's exhausted eyes widened in fear and he attempted to shake his head loose. The needle came at him again, only this time it held a far larger dose.
Ok, maybe not toofar passed the point of being afraid. The next junction perhaps?
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"Excuse me; I'm looking for my brother. He's about six foot four, brown shaggy hair, blue-green eyes. We had a fight and he left a few days ago; I haven't heard from him since and I'm worried about him." Dean held out a recent photo of Sam accompanied by a tentative, fearful smile. He was really playing the worried older brother card, and the gas station store assistant was falling for it hook, line and sinker. Not that it was much of an effort; worried was an understatement. "He was spotted near here in a red Mustang on Tuesday."
Every time he thought of that fight an image of Sam's face, eyes shining with hurt and sadness descended and threatened to crush him with shame and regret. He'd tried calling Sam's cell phone but always got his damn voicemail, leaving message after message, ranting at him for taking off, apologising for treating him like shit and finally begging him to come back. It was becoming more and more likely the kid had been snatched off the road because Dean was damn certain Sam wouldn't have ignored those calls.
For his brother's sake Dean had to get a grip.
The young woman flicked her long dark hair over a shoulder and bit her lip in a way that under other circumstances would've had Dean reaching for the condoms.
"Uh sure. I mean I saw the driver. Your brother was in the passenger seat, fast asleep."
Dean frowned. "How can you be sure it was him?"
She shrugged. "CCTV, but Rory will tell you. HEY RORY!" Dean tried not to flinch at such a loud bellow coming from someone so small. "Getcha ass out here!"
A wizened elderly guy came shuffling from out back and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"You remember this kid from yesterday?" she asked him when Dean once again held out the photograph.
Rory squinted a little. "Yeah. He was in a Ford Mustang, 1973 model. Sweet. Though not as pretty as the second generation in my view..." Somehow sensing Dean's impatience he hurriedly continued. "I was out fixing one of the pumps, but that kid looked real sick. I even tapped on his window to ask if he was alright, but he didn't wake up. Then his friend came back and looked at me kinda weird, like I was after his property or somethin'." He shrugged. "Some gays are possessive like that I guess."
"What did the other guy look like?" Dean felt his fear on the rise once more. This sounded bad.
"He was cute enough, blond, blue eyes," the girl took over the conversation again. "But...well...he kinda gave me the creeps." She shuddered, giving Dean a very nice view of her jiggling cleavage.
"How dya mean?" Dean ignored the golden globes for now, but vowed to come back and get closer look when he found his brother safe and sound.
She bit her lip again, and Dean groaned inwardly. "Well, he had these piercing blue eyes right? But when he had his back to me? I caught a glimpse of him in the security mirror," she pointed to the right hand corner of the store, just above the magazine stand. "I could swear...I don't know..." she shook her head frowning.
"Swear what?" Dean held up a hand palm out when she glanced at him doubtfully. "It's ok. You can tell me."
"Uh..." She shifted nervously, and all thoughts of a pleasant interlude at a later date went down the chute as Dean once again felt his impatience grow. "I could swear that they turned black...just for a second." The young woman sighed apologetically. "It was a long shift and I was probably just over-tired...ya know?"
"That's probably it. Nothing for you to worry about." Dean smiled and nodded, but before leaving the store he paused and turned. "You happen to know which way he was headed?"
Rory answered this time. "Just after he pulled out the station he took the second exit."
"Thanks. Much appreciated." With a tired and worried frown deepening between his eyes, Dean was soon back on the road.
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Another dose of freezing water hit his over-heated skin but Sam barely reacted.
Meg had been cutting him again, but the worst pain...the absolute worst was the branding iron that sealed the wounds to keep him from bleeding to death. All feeling should have faded under the influence of shock and the cold, but everything seemed intensified as though his pain was given an extra boost.
The blindfold was back on, like the gag merely a humiliation and degradation tactic, his eyes only released when she truly wished to bear witness to his agony, and he could only guess at how long he'd been held here. What little he could remember about his surroundings during whatever the hell those injections had been, were the cold, grey stone walls. It had felt like a warehouse, long disused and dilapidated. During the times he was left on his own he was sure he heard rats scurrying around, nosing amongst the old newspapers and rotting takeout wrappings. At least they weren't coming anywhere near him. Yet.
"You can rest assured that he won't care enough about this, will he? I mean, he won't get the chance, not after I'm done. Tell me Sammy, your brother spent much time with you lately? Bet it was more than my father spent with me!"
Sam groaned pitifully as the shivers wracked his body, causing further pain. He was developing a fever, possibly from the cuts adorning his body but more likely because of the tight ache in his chest. He'd been exposed too long to the cold, and the freezing water didn't help.
"And ya know, it hasn't escaped anyone's notice that your brother came for you asking for your help when your father went missing....but now John's dead, the very man Dean idolised and hero-worshipped all his life...isn't it funny how he really doesn't need you now? He used you Sam. He's cast you aside now he no longer has any use for you."
"Demon's lie you fucking bitch!" Sam tried to yell through the gag, before he felt her reach round him and tighten it painfully. Despair set in as he allowed his head to roll forwards, chin once again resting on his chest. His body ached with the need to move, his muscles sore and tense; there was no support for his head and his neck felt under high tension.
"Had enough yet Sammy? I sure haven't. Dean would love to see this, little Sammy paying for all the pain he caused him" That smug bastard's voice came from behind him this time, tugging at his bound hands, forcing his fingers to uncurl and he tried not to panic. "In fact, at a pinch..." Sam screamed as his thumb nail was suddenly gripped and wrenched out. "I could go all night. 'Cos you know how to beg for mercy Sam, even gagged you know exactly how to beg."
The demon set about slowly removing every single one of Sam's fingernails, delighting in the frantic screams of pain and muffled angry cursing, and when Meg was done with his hands...
... she started on his toes.
And still Sam refused to beg.
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"Dean? You found anything?"
Den glanced around the parking lot of a run down seven-eleven, eyes taking in everything from the broken street signs to the mangy stray cat washing itself obscenely on top of a graffiti ridden wall.
"Yeah but the trail goes cold in the next town." He huffed a little in disgust at his surroundings. "If you can call it that. What you got for me Bobby? And please tell me you've had better luck!"
"The Mustang was registered to a motor mechanic from Detroit. His name is Richard Browning, blue eyes, blond hair, 'bout six three in height. He threw up a flag 'cos he served time for kidnapping and murder back in the '70's and is even now wanted in three states for two other counts of the same offences from about three months ago and he's one vicious sonofabitch..."
Dean interrupted. "Sounds like our guy but why in hell did they let 'im go?"
"Good behaviour and some technicality that recently came to light; probably searched his house without a warrant or something. Took him this long to get an appeal against the original verdict." Bobby paused "Dean, this guy's renowned for torturing and mutilating his victims. We need to tread carefully round this one, think real hard about our next move."
Dean froze. His mind went back to the cabin when his demon-possessed father ripped him to pieces without even touching him; but that was no ordinary demon. He took a few slow breaths to calm the roar of blood pounding in his ears, and tried not think about what Sam could be going through right now.
"Yeah, well I got more news..."
And proceeded to fill Bobby in on what he'd found out at the gas station, and judging from the silence at the other end of the line, Bobby wasn't all that surprised. "I'll just bet that demon's having a field day with this one: a human after its own black heart. Probably enjoys the hands-on approach."
"Well, that might explain how he really got out." Dean nodded silently. Wouldn't be the first time a demon lawyer or judge got involved. "And the trail just warmed up. Heard it on the police scanner someone matching this guy's description was seen near some old warehouses not far from you. The cops looked into it but they aint too bright round here; bound to have missed something'."
Dean had a pen and paper at the ready. "Where exactly?" Listening intently, he scribbled down the address before announcing "I'm on my way."
"Dean? Wait for me ok? Don't go in there by yourself. If it is a demon then you'll only put yourself at risk." There was a small pause to let that sink in. "And that won't help Sam any. Ya hear me kid?"
Dean closed his eyes and tried to reign in his anguish. He knew it made sense but it was hard knowing his little brother may well be in deep trouble at the hands of hell spawn.
"Yeah, I hear ya Bobby, I'm not gonna do anything stupid. Trust me."
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Sam sat there in a painful daze, head lowered, feeling the blood from the last beating drying on his face, tightening the skin. He wasn't sure which pain was worse, the physical or mental. Silent self-lectures in his own head ensured he never stopped fighting and struggling, no matter the punishment, and the demon took every opportunity to rage at him, tell him how little his brother cared about him, revealing facts and quotes that only a demon observing from close quarters could possibly know.
She must have been watching us for weeks.
It's two steps forward and too many steps back each time.....
Sam had tried not to listen - demons lie after all - but being kept so long in solitary, with no way to see, speak or move, all control taken from him, and that last fight with his brother still ringing in his head....he just didn't know where to go, where to hide from the pain. Sam didn't want to give in but any reason he had left to carry on was slowly diminishing. The demon was going to wreak further havoc on him, and Dean? It was a show of just how despondent Sam had become when he starting wondering if his brother even cared about him anymore.
He was starting to believe her.
Sam was going downhill fast and he just hoped the demon grew bored with him soon. Sure, a slit throat with a quick death, or slashed open stomach accompanied by a slower and much more painful one was not the way he really pictured going. But since when had life ever played out well for the likes of Sam Winchester?
The open wounds on his fingers and toes where his nails use to be had dried up, which was just as well as his hands were going numb. His prison guard was back with him, cruelly tightening the ropes binding his arms, but Sam was way beyond caring. He couldn't imagine how much tighter those ropes could go but naturally he was going to find out.
Sam tried to close his ears and make his mind go blank.
Except the demon wasn't going to allow any reprieves and grabbed his chin, placing his mouth against Sam's ear. Sam could feel the hot breath on his face and fought the urge to shudder with disgust.
"Look Sam, as much as I appreciate your company I'm getting a little bored here. How 'bout we invite your brother to the party huh? 'Bout time we livened things up a bit."
Sam's head snapped up, breathing fast through his nose, and started shaking his head frantically, a muffled pleading noise coming through the cloth in his mouth.
"Nnnnoooo, pleafe, don...leafe fim alofe"
The demon smiled. It finally had the youngest Winchester grovelling and begging, and the noise was sweet music to its ears.
Ah family. Always the Winchester weakness. But Meg loved to push the boundaries.
"Sammy, Sammy Sammy. It's your brother I want, it's always been him. He's the one who sent me back to hell." Richard/Meg ran a finger gently down Sam's nose, now badly broken. "Of course, having you here has been one hell of a bonus, and I can't wait to see his face when he gets here."
Sam's breath caught in his windpipe when he heard the familiar sound of his cell phone on speed dial. Panic assailed him and he felt like he was going crazy.
Maybe it'll be ok. He won't come right? She said it herself he's glad to see the back of me...but maybe....maybe he'll save me...maybe.....maybe...he'll come for me...I'm his brother...he won't leave me to die....told me go...wanted me to leave...maybe...maybemaybemaybemaybemaybemaybe...
"Say hello to your brother Sammy." The gag was once again yanked free.
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Dean's cell phone was buzzing away, Motorhead's Born to Raise Hell filling the empty silence of the old heap.
"Bobby?"
He frowned at the silence, instantly on his guard. "Sam?"
"Hey there Dean. Seems your baby brother's a little phone shy, huh Sam?"
Dean's eyes widened with fear when he heard a pained grunt from the other end of the line.
"You hurt him and I swear I'll fuck your ass!"
"Ooh Dean you're sooo naughty. I'm a demon babe, how dya know I wouldn't enjoy it?" Dean could hear the caller talking to his brother. "Ya see Sam? This is just what we talked about earlier; such bad language."
Dean was getting the nasty impression that he knew this particular demon rather well.
"Meg." Dean sneered angrily, "shoulda guessed."
There was a slight pause, followed by a swift intake of breath.
"You remember me! I'm flattered!" Meg/Richard appraised with glee.
"How could I forget?"
"Indeed. Now Sam, be nice and talk to Dean. No? A little incentive perhaps?"
Instead of hearing his brother's soft voice, Dean heard Sam's blood curdling scream.
"What the hell ya doin' to him you bitch! Leave him alone!"
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The Meg-Richard demon combo glanced down and sneered smugly.
"Just making sure your little brother doesn't get cold feet..."
Sam's ankles had been tightly lashed to the chair legs, and when she tilted the seat back he had no idea what was coming. When he'd refused to speak, refused to draw Dean to his rescue and ultimately into the demon's trap, he'd heard the noise of something heavy being scooted over the floor towards him, along with an ominous sloshing sound. Then suddenly Meg pushed his chair back down...
...and his bare feet were plunged into boiling hot liquid.
The agony was immense, unlike anything he'd felt before, and Sam could almost feel his skin crinkling and blistering on contact, the pain taking his breath away. The chair was dropped the rest of the way, and now his ankles fell victim to the hot water. Sam finally found his voice and screamed and screamed for what seemed like forever until his voice cracked and all he could manage were desperate croaking whimpers, but the pain just didn't stop. It grew, surrounding him, becoming part of him....
"Pl-please...n-no more" he panted, no longer above begging for mercy but this time for himself. "Pl-please, st-stop...just f-finish it...please... d-do it now...please...stop...please...stop...Dean...S-sorry..."
"Hear that Dean? That's your baby brother asking, no begging me to put him out of his misery." The demon grinned over at Sam, who was still muttering, begging, pleading. "You got two hours to get here before I oblige him. Follow his GPS signal. I'll leave his cell switched on and set right beside him; now I can't say fairer than that huh?"
Sam, on hearing his brother was still on the line immediately tried to call out.
"Dean n-no! St-stay away..." But he was cut off when the cloth was shoved back in his mouth and wrenched tight at the back of his neck. Sam was whimpering in pain and could still hear his brother ranting on the cell phone, so near yet so far.
"You fucking bitch! Let 'im go! Sam! Just hold on buddy, I'm gonna get you out..."
The demon chuckled gleefully. "Two hours Dean or it's over for your brother. Not that he's got much time left given the fun I've been having!"
All Sam heard just before he lost consciousness was the resounding snap as the cell phone was clicked shut, and Meg's malicious giggling.
M'so screwed...
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Author's notes:
And here it is. The gratuitous Sam whumpage/torture/angst fest continues. So, injected with an unknown substance that causes him tremendous pain, no finger or toe nails left, he's being beaten on a regular basis, cut up and lanced, hypothermia and possible chest infection setting in and his feet have been badly scalded.
And now it seems he's going a bit loopy. Poor kid. The things I put him through in the name of entertainment eh?
For those of you who didn't know this story has already been finished (more or less) and my intention is to post a chapter a day, though I have a tendency to tinker so some chapters might be released a little later.
Cheers for all the support so far and I'm really pleased everyone's enjoying it.
Kind regards,
ST xxx