Te Deum: Chapter 2
Dean threw a hand out to the wall to keep himself upright as he reeled in shock. That was Sam in the corner. The hazel eyes that had glanced at Ellie originally now fixed on Dean, bright and round and terrifyingly broken. And what happened next nearly made Dean run from the room.
"Dean." It was hoarse and quiet but Dean still heard it and, apparently, so did Ellie. However, when she turned to look at Dean she didn't look freaked out or angry or even suspicious. Instead she looked sympathetic and understanding.
"I know it's hard to see. That's how I felt the first time I saw him. He looks so human, I thought they were the monsters at first."
Dean could barely process her words; his attention was still locked onto Sam who was still staring back at him. Ellie crouched down and started prodding at Sam, pulling the blanket away to reveal a stained t-shirt and a plethora of bruises and strange cuts. Sam flinched away when she started to wipe at them with a cloth, and Dean had to restrain himself from barreling to Sam's side.
"It wasn't until I saw what he could do that I knew he wasn't human. He kills demons, drinks their blood. I'm guessing he's some sort of predator for demons, one which was humanized somehow, because half the time he refuses to drink it. The guys beat him when he refuses, but I'm just nice to him. It's why he'll take it from me."
Dean wanted to throw up, he wanted to stop existing, because this was too much. Ellie pressed against one of the deeper cuts, drawing a small gasp out of Sam and then
"Dean" it's soft, and this time Sam didn't look at him, instead staring with glazed eyes at the floor. It wasn't something he had said to get Dean's attention so much as it was an instinctive response to his pain.
"He says that all the time. I don't know who 'Dean' is but it's about the only thing he ever says. I've been with them four months now. Sam doesn't talk– only time he does is around me and the only thing he says is 'Dean' and 'no'."
"How long?" Dean barely managed to croak it out and the way it sounds is barely intelligible. Ellie looked over at him. Dean cleared his throat.
"How long?" This time it's louder and without cracks.
"When I got here they said that they'd had him a little over a year. So probably fourteen, fifteen months now."
Dean blanched.
"He looks pretty damn good considering the pictures I've seen of when they first got him."
"Pictures?" Dean breathed out.
Ellie nodded her head and placed the blanket back over Sam, who tucked back into himself, the top of his head and those piercing eyes just visible and still trained on Dean.
"Most of them do what they do to him without any thought or pattern. It's just letting out pent up frustration and for some of them they genuinely find pleasure in it. Jonathan, however, documents everything. He doesn't do anything twice and what he hasn't done, I don't know. Somehow he keeps coming up with different things to test on it. Apparently it can't die, so they tried different ways of killing it first. Stopped after six months, once it started drinking the blood. Andrew said it had refused before that. Now they just hurt it to let off steam and keep it from 'retaliating'."
Ellie said this all with a vague air of disgust. She, apparently, didn't approve of torture– even that of a monster.
"He's never hurt anybody. Jonathan's notes attest to that, too. You don't need to be afraid of him."
Ellie said after Dean took a step back. She mistook his movement for fear, rather than the shock and pain that it was.
Ellie got up and brushed her hands off before stepping to the middle of the room, where she picked up the bowls and brought them to Sam. Dean watched her try to get Sam to eat or drink from them but Sam stayed curled up in his corner, eyes never straying from Dean. Frowning, Ellie placed the bowls back in the middle and stood back up.
"Well, he usually eats. Must be one of those nights." Ellie paused, looking at Dean thoughtfully.
"Or you, not that you're doing anything wrong. But he probably thinks that you're going to beat him like the rest of the guys do. Well, except Hub. Doesn't say why, he just doesn't."
Dean nodded at that and followed Ellie out of the room, Sam's eyes boring holes in his back. Dean nearly let out a sigh of relief when the door clicked shut behind them. He followed Ellie back to the table, glad to see that only Hub and Jonathan were still sitting. Jonathan had a spread of papers in front of him that Dean feared were something to do with Sam. Hub was watching him and Dean felt an unpleasant tingle crawl up his spine. This whole situation was screwed nine ways to Hell. Sinking into one of the chairs, Dean let out a huge breath of air that he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. Jonathan looked up, a pleasant smile on his face.
"It can have that effect. Difficult to see how it's not human at first. It'll get easier when you see the way it can rip the life out of a demon in a second."
Dean just nodded and grabbed the beer sitting on the table. God was this wrong. Everything in his mind was spinning, and emotions he had forgotten he had had grown into a raging storm inside him. Regret, guilt, fear, and a mounting anger and frustration that was bound to blow up in some spectacular way. For the moment, though, he tried to ignore it all because the only thing that mattered was getting Sam out. Unfortunately, that didn't involve going gun crazy on these monsters that had hurt his brother. Too many, and from what he had seen of all of them, they were all well trained and experienced hunters. Taking on one would have been an issue, six was way beyond Dean's abilities. So plan B was going to have to involve some subterfuge, especially if he couldn't get a hold of Cas.
Cas would be useful right about now, but the angel had left him several days ago with the strict order not to contact him. He'd said that some angels were seeking him out and that, at this point, Dean was better hidden from them than he was. So they'd split up. Dean hadn't heard from the angel since then. He'd call but Dean had a feeling Cas wasn't going to be able to help in this situation. So that called for a plan C: sticking with these hunters until he got the opportunity to get the hell out of Dodge with Sam in tow and both of them in one piece.
A hand fell on Dean's shoulder, making him jump.
"I take it you got a good look at the weapon?" It's Andrew, his tone cheerful in a way that makes Dean want to rip the man's vocal cords out and strangle him with them.
"Yeah." Dean nodded, a tight smile on his face.
"He doesn't look like much though. When you said it could do stuff I was expecting something more."
Andrew just smiled. "Don't worry, I thought of that already. You can mosey back to your nice motel and come back out in the morning. By then Art and Hub will have found us a demon and then we'll be able to show you what it can really do."
Andrew slid into the seat next to Dean, excitement on his face.
"You're not gonna believe it 'til you see it. But once you do, boy, there ain't no going back. This thing can change the war– we've already taken out over a hundred demons. With more hunters working with us, those numbers will just keep on going up."
Dean stood and cast a quick glance at the group in front of him, his eyes pausing on Hub, who was still watching him. With a curt nod to the table he walked back outside, Andrew escorting him.
"You know, Billy, I'm real glad we ran into you. I think you could really help us out."
Dean turned back to face Andrew once he'd reached the car, a smile on his face.
"Well, I want to deal with this damn apocalypse just as much as you do. Seems like you have the key to that right here."
Andrew nodded, smiling again with that infuriating perkiness that made Dean sick. Getting into the Impala, he let out a long sigh and drove back to the motel to start planning and to try to get a hold of Cas.
Sam stared at the door long after the hallucination of Dean had gone. Something was different about this hallucination. Usually when Lucifer sent him hallucinations of his brother, it was either to hurt him with words or to try to coax him into saying yes. This Dean hadn't done either of those things. This was a little blip in the seemingly never-ending Hell that Sam now lived in, so he was entranced by this Dean, this perfectly normal and very different Dean.
It was nice to have a break, even strange as it had been. Usually, the days melded together between Lucifer's mental torture while he slept and the interactions with the hunters who had taken him. The most he could register was his perpetual mindset of refusal and the pain from the beatings and withdrawals he was made to endure. Ellie was the only one who was kind to him, and he appreciated her, but what she had done did little to outweigh the cruelty of the other hunters. Most all of them were angry and terrifying, but the one who scared him most was Jonathan. The man acted without emotion– there was nothing but pure scientific precision in everything he did.
That man had been the worst of all of them. He'd been the most creative in inventing ways to kill Sam, before they'd stopped killing him. After that Sam had been subjected to tests of different materials: oak, brass, silver,and others that blurred together until he had lost count. Then different forms of the materials had been tested. Would a brass knife affect him or a brass bullet? Now they were onto different methods of injuring him. This past week and a half, Jonathan had been testing out different ways he could hurt Sam with electricity.
Sam shivered and curled into himself as much as he possibly could. Sam didn't like Jonathan, but the man had nothing on what Lucifer could do to his mind. Remembering the strange occurrence of earlier that day, Sam's thoughts drifted back to Dean. What he'd seen today had looked more real than anything he'd seen before, and it had happened while he was awake, which was something Lucifer had never done before. It had been so different that Sam could actually pretend that it really had been Dean, there in the flesh to rescue him and take him back, to say that they were stronger together and that he couldn't live without his baby brother. To say that Sam was once again the most important person to him. It was a silly little fantasy, one that Sam knew wouldn't happen. But it helped on those bad days, the days when the withdrawal from the demon blood was unbearable and the hunters decided that Sam needed their special attention.
During those days Sam would pretend that Dean had burst into the room, gun in hand, and taken them all out somehow. Then Dean would rush over to Sam and tell him that everything was going to be alright. After that, Sam would be perfectly healthy and they'd go back to hunting the way they always had. Dean being his same old joking self and Sam getting to bitch at him about music and food. Everything would be perfect and it would all work out as it should.
Sam saved this fantasy for the bad days, because he'd pass out in the middle of it. On good days it just left him feeling more empty and alone than he'd been feeling before. So Sam thought about the strange occurrence and let himself fall asleep thinking about what it could be and why Lucifer would show it to him now.
Dean got back to the motel and immediately pulled out his phone. He hadn't trusted himself on the road with a phone in his hand–he'd barely been able to keep his shaking hands on the steering wheel. Pressing 1 for speed dial, Dean locked his car and staggered into the motel room.
"Come on, Cas, pick up, pick up, pick–" the ringing turned into a woman's voice declaring that he could leave a voice mail after the tone. Dean swore under his breath.
"Damn it, Cas, I need you! When you get this, call me right away. I need help now."
Throwing the device onto the bed, Dean let out a strangled breath that bordered on a silent scream. Why had he listened to Cas all those months ago? Why had he just stopped looking? Why had he assumed that Sam was being a class A bitch and was hiding from them? Now Sam was being held captive by a bunch of hunters who had been torturing him for the last year or so and using him as their bitch to kill demons.
Sinking onto the bed, Dean felt his eyes water. What had Sam thought, after all those months? Dean hadn't been happy after what had happened before the convent and he had let Sam know just how much he believed his brother had screwed up. Dean had let Sam know exactly how much he didn't forgive him. How must Sam feel when Dean's last words had been to tell him to pick a hemisphere, to stay away permanently?
Dean pushed away his frustration with himself and stared numbly at the wall. All of that didn't matter right now. What mattered was getting Sam out, which was going to take a plan. Dean needed to anticipate what he would need to do. The weak link appeared to be Ellie–she at least had pity for Sam. However, Dean hadn't even met all of the hunters properly. Tomorrow he was going to go back and try to make friends, because it looked like the only way Sam was getting out was through Dean sweet-talking him out.
The following morning Dean had arrived back at the warehouse by 9:00 AM. Andrew met him at the door, his broad grin already in place. Upon entering, Dean took in the changed scene. To the right of the salt circle a figure was tied to a chair, a devil's trap encircling it. Dean thought it was Sam at first but upon closer inspection realized it was just some man in a business suit. Dean followed Andrew until they were just outside the red circle. The man's eyes found Dean's and Dean had to withhold a flinch when he saw the black eyes boring into him. The loud sound of a door slamming shut drew Dean's eyes to the office. Sam was being dragged out by Donald and Jason, he hung limply in their arms and Dean feared for a moment that his brother was dead.
They threw Sam to the ground a couple of yards from the devil's trap, where he collapsed, then laid motionless. Dean felt his entire body tense and his jaw tighten with the strain of keeping himself from running to Sam's side and making sure his brother was alright.
"Ellie" Andrew said, a slight drawl entering his voice along with an undercurrent of something cold and merciless. Ellie didn't look at Andrew, but she nodded and stepped forward, a bottle of red liquid in her hand. Sinking to her knees in front of Sam, she began to coo sweet nothings to him, asking him to drink. Drawing Sam up, she pressed the bottle into his hand but he flinched away, hands wrapping around himself while he whispered the word "no" over and over again. Ellie reached out a hand and gently stroked his head.
"Sam, I need you to take it," Ellie said, gently but firmly.
"No. . ." Sam keened, eyes shutting tightly as he began to rock himself back and forth. "No."
Ellie bit her lip and glanced nervously at Andrew who was watching with an indifferent stare.
Ellie turned back to Sam and smiled again, hands coming up to press the bottle into his hand and gently pet his hair.
"What about Dean, huh? He needs you to take this."
Sam moaned out "no," but it was softer this time and held less resolve. Dean wants to throw up, the whole scene is so wrong that only the thought of Sam's safety keeps him from going kamikaze with his hand gun.
"Come on Sam, for Dean."
Sam doesn't nod his head or say yes. He gives no sign of his compliance except to grip the bottle back. Ellie helped unscrew the cap and guide the bottle to Sam's mouth, where he swallowed down the liquid. Sam drank it all, and when the bottle left his lips he let out a little sob.
"Thank you Ellie." Andrew's voice was unnervingly chilled. Ellie didn't respond, just took the bottle and left the warehouse. Andrew was smiling again as he walked over to Dean.
"Here's the good part."
Andrew then approached Sam, a hand snaking out to yank his head back. Terrified hazel eyes stared up at Andrew.
"You see that demon over there." Andrew pointed to the man tied within the devil's trap. Sam didn't answer verbally. He merely glanced quickly over at the man before his eyes settled back on Andrew, pools of fear in his gaunt face.
"You need to kill it."
Andrew let go of Sam's head roughly and stood back up. Sam remained where he was on the ground. Moments passed and nothing happened. Finally, though, Sam lifted himself into an awkward sitting position, his right leg bent into an almost unnatural position. He stretched out a hand, fingers straining forward. The demon let out an agonized cry and an inky black cloud exited the body and began swirling every which way in the circle. Sam tightened his hands, his fingers forming a fist. The screams intensified before stopping abruptly when the cloud disappeared in a brilliant crackle of energy. Sam collapsed back to the ground.
Glancing at Andrew, Dean was surprised to see anger instead of the smugness he was expecting to find.
"Donald." Andrew bit out. Dean watched with increasing worry as Donald went over to Sam and yanked him towards the chair. Jason untied the man and dragged him to the edge of the circle and Donald dragged Sam into it. Sam was shaking, wide-eyed and pale-faced. Dean didn't need someone to tell him that something bad was about to happen. Sam didn't fight or struggle against Donald as he was tied to the chair.
"You didn't do it right. To make sure the demon is dead, the man has to die with him."
Sam looked at Andrew, his face growing even paler. Then he saw Dean, and something flickered in his eyes. His eyes didn't stray from Dean's form even after Donald began hitting him. After administering several blows, Donald stopped and Andrew began talking again.
"You think you can save them, but once a person has been possessed they don't come back."
Andrew walked over to the man who was unconscious but clearly alive, pulling a knife out as he did and holding it to the man's throat.
"You still didn't save him, so now you're just going to get hurt for no reason."
Before Dean could cry out to stop him, Andrew had slashed the throat of the man, letting the body drop to the floor before walking towards Sam.
"You need to learn your lesson, monster."
Andrew stared at Sam a few more seconds before he turned to Dean.
"We'll take him back to his room. You get to teach him tonight."
Donald began to manhandle Sam from his chair, but Andrew held up a hand.
"Let him walk."
Donald immediately stepped back letting Sam take all of his own weight. Sam's right leg was crooked, as if someone had broken it and let it heal without setting it correctly. As Sam began to stumble across the floor back to the office and his prison, Dean realized in horror that that was exactly what had happened. A hand appeared at Dean's shoulder and began guiding him toward the office after Sam. Dean was frozen, unable to do anything but allow himself to be led by Andrew, who was following Sam's painfully slow progress through the warehouse. Finally, Sam made it inside, where Dean watched him collapse back into his corner of the room.
Andrew pushed Dean in.
"It helps to think of all the monsters you've met, the ones who've tricked you, pretended to be good just to end up hurting more people in the end. It may look human Billy, but in the end it's a monster just like the rest of them."
Andrew shut the door and for the first time in over a year Dean was alone with Sam. After throwing a glance back at the door, Dean was by Sam's side in seconds, hands roaming over his broken body.
"Sammy?"
Sam flinched back at the nickname and eyed Dean with suspicion. Dean gripped Sam's hand but Sam pulled away, fear growing in its place.
"Come on Sammy, it's me."
There was no response. With a quick look back at the closed door, Dean leaned in and gently grabbed Sam's chin. Sam flinched again but didn't pull away. Sam was staring hard away from Dean.
"You know me Sam, I'm your stupid big brother." Dean smiled weakly, but Sam still wasn't looking at him. Dean cursed inwardly– he didn't have much time.
"Sam, it's me, Dean. I swear to God I'm going to get you out of here as soon as I can. I'll buy you all your stupid salads without complaining, you can have all the first showers, God, Sam, you can even play your emo crap in the Impala—just look at me."
A hand touched Dean's chest where the amulet Sam had given him hung. Glancing down at it and then back at Sam, Dean waited with bated breath as Sam's fingers brushed softly over the piece of jewelry. The hand then traveled up to Dean's face, his gaze rising to meet it. Sam's hand rested on Dean's cheek while his eyes searched Dean's, looking for what Dean guessed was proof that it really was him. The other hand came up, Sam's left one, this one mangled, broken, and scarred. He rested this hand on Dean's other cheek, cradling Dean's face.
"Dean?" the tone held a combination of recognition and hope that made Dean tear up.
"Yeah, Sammy, it's me, it's really me."
Dean leaned forward, hugging Sam while his brother sank into him, sobs building up and breaking through to manifest in jerking breaths and steaming tears. Dean felt himself crying as well. They may have been trapped in a warehouse with psycho hunters and Sam may have been broken, but they were together for the first time in over a year. Despite how screwed they were, Dean couldn't help but feel like it was the first time in a long time that he'd felt whole. He and Sam were together, the way they were always meant to be, and Dean would do his best to make sure that they stayed that way.
I just looked over the chapter and realized I left my beta's marks and stuff in the chapter. Sorry! I fixed it now.
