What goes around comes around.
Summary. . . . . Dean's taken, but by whom? Blindfolded, tied and beaten, why won't anybody speak to him? And just what has happened to Sam? Dean whumping, limp and hurt Sam to follow. Set in season 2, so no spoilers.
Disclaimer. . . . I own only the plot line; the rest is Kripkie's.
A.N. . . . . I can't thank you all out there in fanficland enough for the fantastic response so far to this fic. I pray that I can keep you hooked for the remainder of the plot. Happy reading, see you at the end of the chapter, Peanut x
Fighting his way back through the layers of his consciousness, Dean was wondering what had awakened him from the place that he felt safe and warm in, the place where there was no pain. He could see through the little gap that it was still night time and so far he had been left alone after dark, the beatings only coming during the day. Moving just the slightest bit had him realizing what had woken him.
Agonizing, piercing pain was shooting from his shoulders and traveling down his torso and arms, and up his neck, pins and needles attacking him all over. Somebody had decided that two days being hung up had obviously been enough and had taken him down whilst he had been floating in dreamland. He tried to calm himself as he waited for the pain to abate, tried not to move allowing the blood to flow back in to his numb hands.
When he felt that the pain was comfortable enough to bear, he gingerly tried to move without jolting his broken ribs. The wave of dizziness that washed over him as he did so had him fighting down the urge to vomit, knowing that if he succumbed to the nausea the pain he was feeling now would be nothing compared to what would come. Eventually the waves calmed down to ripples and Dean managed to sit up.
He found once he did so that although he was still bound, his wrists now tied behind his back, he was at least free to roam around. That was if he could muster the strength to move, just sitting up had exhausted him. In the end he decided to shuffle on his behind until his bare back hit a wall. He battled once more to stop himself making any sudden movements as the coldness of the wall reminded him of his lack of clothes, instead he gently leaned his body away from its biting chill. He could already feel it seeping into his bones though and goose bumps began popping up as shivers began wracking his frame.
Dean tried to get his mind off the how cold, tired, hungry, thirsty and in pain he was. But every time he succeeded his memories of the fact that Sam was here some where would start flooding back in bringing with it all the worries and the guilt and the blame, bringing with it the thought that Sam was probably hurting a lot more than Dean was. He desperately needed to see Sam, to see that he was alive, to make sure that he was okay, to reassure him that every thing was going to be fine.
He briefly wondered if Gordon even had Sam, but his instincts told him that the heartless hunter did. He anxiously wondered what had been done to his brother, wondered if he had also been used as a human punching bag, wondered how many broken bones Sam had, wondered what haunting things Gordon would have said that Sam in an emotional state would have taken to heart. He prayed that they had given Sam food and water. That he hadn't been left to die slowly and painfully from dehydration.
It was as his thoughts would reach this point that Dean would force his melancholy back and would begin instead to think of ways out of this situation, to think of ways to get free. As always though, all his plans needed for his hands to be free. Or at least tied in front, but so far Gordon had kept them firmly tied behind his back.
Sighing deeply he decided that if they weren't going to let him see Sam, he would at least try and let Sam know that he was there and hope that it would bring Sam some comfort. He began shouting again and again.
"Sammy! I'm here bros; you've just got to hold on. Try to be strong."
After he finished he would listen quietly, waiting for any indication that Sam had heard and was giving Dean his own reassurances. After getting nothing he would start all over again. He was on his sixth attempt when the door to his room smashed open and banged loudly against the wall.
"Gordon? Let me see Sam, please." His request was met with silence.
"Gordon? You bastard, answer me. Let me see Sam."
Still silence was his only answer. The heaviness of which had Dean once again unnerved. He struggled awkwardly to his feet and moved towards the bit of light he could see, speaking words all the way.
"Who are you? Gordon is that you? Somebody answer me. Where's Sam?"
He figured that he had made it halfway across the room before rough hands slammed into his chest and pushed him back to the floor. There was nothing that he could do to stop himself from crashing backwards, nothing that he could do to brace the fall. His wrists, still bound cumbersomely behind his back, taking the full force of his weight as he crashed down onto them.
Dean couldn't decide which had caused him more pain. His ribs as they shook on impact, his broken nose that was harshly jarred as his head collided with the solid floor or his wrist as, with a sickening snap, he felt yet more of his bones break. He couldn't help the tears that sprang to his eyes, thankful for the blindfold that hid them from who ever else was in the room with him.
"Son of a bitch!" He screamed through clenched teeth.
Turning onto his good side, as yet another wave of nausea rolled alarmingly through his stomach, he tried to reposition his wrists so that the broken one wasn't causing him as much pain. He tried to breathe through the sickness and the agony like his Dad had taught both himself and Sam to do.
Looking towards where the light was coming from he tried to see if he could make anything out, tried to see if Sam was there. The fall to the floor had mad the gap bigger, but all that Dean could really see were blurry shapes. It did tell him that there were at least three people in the room with him though. His heart beat soared thinking that one of them could be Sam. He tried again to call out to his brother.
"Sam? Sammy? Gordon, if Sam's there with you please let me see him. Please let him at least answer me. Gordon, please." Dean despised how plea full his voice sounded, begging almost. He hated it even more when it didn't gain him anything.
Something being scrapped across the floor had Dean's curiosity piqued and his nerves jangled. What the hell was that? What was going on? What were they planning now? He found it alarming how much being in the dark for so long had affected him. He could no longer musty any of his cocky, brash attitude, instead he found himself panicky and agitated all the time. Not quite at the point of hysteria, but well on the way.
He jumped as hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet and steadied him as he threatened to fall back down. He was perplexed as the bonds tying his wrists were cut away. The same hands that had picked him up suddenly thrust him into a chair. He instinctively raised his hands desperate to get the blindfold off, desperate to maybe catch a glimpse of his brother. Other hands prevented him, blocking his way. The sound of a gun being cocked also halting his attempts. A voice finally spoke out.
"I wouldn't attempt to remove it Dean. The gun is pointed at you but I could just as easily aim it at Sammy's head."
Sam! Sam was in the room with him.
"Sam? Sammy, answer me! Please just tell me that you're okay." Dean's voice cracked as his concerns for Sam grew and sent his emotions into a tail spin. What was wrong with Sam? Why wouldn't he answer him? Was he unconscious? Was he even there? To Dean there could be no other reasons. Even if Sam were gagged he should still be able to hear his muffles.
"Gordon, what have you done? Why won't Sam answer me? Is he even here?"
"Oh he's here Dean. He just doesn't want to talk to you. Or should I say that he can't talk to you."
"You sick fuck! What have you done to him?"
"Shall we just say that we had a little bit of fun? But somehow I don't think that Sam will see it that way."
"I meant what I said Gordon, I will kill you for this."
"You're beginning to sound like a broken record Dean, always threatening me and here I was going to be nice and let you see Sam. I think I've changed my mind."
"Gordon, please, no. Please let me see Sam."
The words came out of Dean's mouth before he could stop himself. He knew that Gordon was using Sam against him, hoping for just that type of reaction, but the despondency at not knowing what was happening to Sam was making Dean irrational.
"You were never going to let me see Sam were you?" Dean's voice cracked with emotion yet again.
"No, no I wasn't. It's just too much fun watching you sweat, watching you work yourself up, and worrying about what's being done to baby brother. But I was here to be nice though Dean. I came to give you some water, we can't have you dying on us, not when the fun has only just begun. Plus it's not you I have issues with."
"You shouldn't have issues with Sam either. You're wrong about him Gordon. He doesn't have an evil bone in his body."
"You and I both know you're lying Dean, so you might as well conserve your breath and save your preaching for someone who is listening. Sammy will turn evil, we both know it. It's just a case of when." Gordon paused, before changing subjects. "I'm going to place a bottle in your hand, remember Dean don't try anything. I still have the gun on you."
Dean felt the cold bottle placed in his undamaged hand. He thought fleetingly of hurling the damn thing at Gordon, but common sense prevailed. He would need to try and keep his strength up if he was going to get them both out of here, so he gulped down the liquid relishing the cool wetness on his parched throat, only stopping when the bottle was empty. Deciding to test Gordon's kindness further, Dean quickly asked.
"Gordon, let me see Sam. Let me just see that he is okay."
"I don't think so."
"Gordon, please."
"No!" The tone of the hunter's voice leaving no room for argument.
Dean's temper rose. He needed to just glimpse Sam, if he could do that then he knew that he could take any thing else that his captor's threw at him. He sprang suddenly at Gordon, not caring about his injuries, just his desire to see his younger brother. With his good hand he managed to land a punch on the man's face before somebody grabbed him forcefully from behind.
He very nearly passed out from the pain as his hands were cuffed tightly in front of him. He prayed that in the confusion that Gordon wouldn't realize what his goon had done. He felt himself being pushed back into the chair before hand's grasped him around the throat and started squeezing.
"You are going to pay for that Dean." Gordon's voice whispered in his ear as his hand's squeezed even tighter.
Dean endeavored to remove the hand's that were choking him, his broken limb making his efforts half hearted at best. His throat began closing and he strived to get even the smallest breath to pass through. As oblivion threatened once more his ears started to pick up noises. The hand's released their grip from around his neck and as the sound of his own heart beat lessoned he picked up the noises once more.
The sharp crack of a whip hitting flesh, quickly followed by a sound Dean unfortunately knew all to well, Sam's heartbreaking screams of pain.
Tears of frustration fell from his eyes and collected in the blind fold. Guilt wormed its way into his heart once more. He started begging, pleading for them to leave Sam alone, but Sam's screams only got louder as the frequency of the lashes increased.
Dean started yelling for the punishment to end, for them to take it out on him instead. He fought against the hands held him down, trying to get to Sam, only stopping when the butt of the gun smashed into his head and he surrendered to the blackness again.
A.N. . . . Thanks as always for reading. I hope that was okay for you, Peanut x