Wow. I am just blown away with the responses for this. Thank you for the kudos, reviews, follows, and favorites it really means a lot to me. This is actually the fastest I've ever posted a chapter. I apologize for any errors and spelling mistakes. I have been very tired today (daylight saving sucks) but I will look at this again soon.
By the way this jumps back to how Sam was captured and what is currently happening.
When he woke up the first thing he noticed the blindfold was off. He blinked faster, trying to lessen the blur of the lights. Once his vision cleared, he slowly lifted his head up groaning at the sudden wave of nausea that hit him due to the drug administrated in him and the stupid concussion.
Sam recalled waiting for Dean to get back from the restaurant. He was cleaning out his gun-more out of boredom than obligation- while Lucifer was being a pain in the ass again, reminding Sam of all his failures and the lives lost because of him. He had to press down onto the scar three times because Lucifer kept on coming back. He heard a knock on the door and was thankful for it since it took his mind off of the devil and his new obsession with playing what sounded like an off key, mediocre version of Highway to Hell on the harmonica. Sam figured Dean might have forgotten his key or had too much to carry.
"That was fast," Sam said to himself as he set his gun down on his bed and unlocked the door. "Did you miss rush hour?" he called out to Dean as he opened the door. The next thing he knew, he was stumbling backwards from a punch delivered to his face.
Sam placed a hand on the corner of his mouth, feeling blood. He looked up and saw someone with a black ski mask enter the motel room. Sam pulled out Ruby's knife and was about to reach for the Holy water when he noticed the salt lines were still intact.
The intruder was human.
Sam avoided another punch from the man and delivered his own punch to the intruder in the face and pushed him down onto the coffee table. The worn table broke under the man's weight. The man spat out blood as he rolled off the remains of the table. Sam spun around, heading to the bed where he put his gun but he was stopped when he felt a pair of hands grab his arms and pull him back. Sam struggled against the man's grip before feeling something cold and hard clamp down on his wrists. The man wrapped one arm around the hunter's neck and pulled him closer.
"You'll pay for that," the man hissed in Sam's ear. Sam felt the man tighten his arm, constricting Sam's breathing. His lungs began to burn, demanding for the oxygen he couldn't get. His vision started to blur.
With no other option, Sam kicked back, hitting the man in the knee. The man loosened his grip on Sam as he swore. Sam pulled out the man's grasp, gasping for the air his starved lungs needed before heading towards the open door. If he could get to the parking lot maybe someone would see him and help. They usually tried to avoid attention as much as possible but Sam needed to get as far away from the intruder as he could. He was almost out the door when he felt something hit the back of his head. Sam fell to his knees before strong hands pushed him down, his back hitting the floor. Sam grimaced as his head hit the floor. He saw the man carelessly toss the broken table leg-probably the thing he used on Sam- back into the pile that used to be the table before closing the door and pulling Sam away from it. He rolled Sam onto his back and straddled the younger man's waist.
"Are you trying to make this harder for yourself?" he asked while pulling out a syringe. Sam saw the needle and squirmed underneath the weight of the man.
"Stop moving," he snapped. Sam brought his knees up and hit the man's back as hard he could but the only thing he was rewarded with was with another punch to his face. As his head went to the side Sam felt a pinch in his neck. He tensed as the contents of the vile were emptied out into his body. "There. Was that so hard?" he said as he stood up and watched his victim struggle against the handcuffs and the drug. "The more you move the faster the my little cocktail will spread throughout your blood system."
"Who are you," Sam slurred. He was trying his hardest to stay awake but the drugs in him were already taking it's effect. "None of your concern for now kid." The man responded. The pain in the back of his head caused Sam to moan as he watched the man pull out a pencil and paper and began to write something down.
"Uh oh. Deano won't like this now will he," Sam heard Lucifer say from across the room. If Sam could he would glare at the hallucination but he didn't have the strength to do more than say the one word that was on his mind.
"De," he muttered softly. His tongue felt like it was replaced with lead. It took everything in Sam to say even part of the word that meant both the world and security to him.
"Dean can join in the fun soon. Right now, it's just you and me Sammy-boy."
The rest of his memory ended in with the man grabbing the pillowcase from his bed and pulling it over his head.
"Rise and shine princess," the voice from earlier brought Sam out of the memory. Sam groaned, watching the man as he walked into his sight and sat down on a folding chair he brought with him. His captor was wearing dark denim jeans and an olive colored t-shirt and a black leather jacket. He looked to be about thirty, but the look in his emerald eyes made him look older. Sam knew that look- he saw it in the mirror everyday. He must have been through a traumatic loss.
"You don't remember me do you?" the man said as he ran a hand through his short brown hair. "You don't remember how last year you two hunted Mandy Duran, a witch that was killing people in Stratford and you two told her husband that she was murdering innocent lives. You stalled the husband while your partner found all the evidence he needed to prove that she was the killer." Sam studied the man for a moment before it hit him. The man gave a low chuckle as Sam stared at him, wide eyed.
"Now you remember me. Ryan Duran's the name. Your brother," Ryan sneered, "killed my wife and told me she was a witch, the one responsible for killing all those people. Of course I knew she was the one. She was getting revenge on those who cheated on her, stole from her, mocked her. She only harmed the ones who diserved it." He stood up and walked over to his prisoner. He cupped Sam's face in his hand, studying the lump on the side of Sam's head, the one that he had earned when he had knocked the younger man out.
"Your brother killed the one person I loved and cherished in this horrible world and now," he squeezed Sam's cheeks even harder, smirking as the man winced, "I get to watch Dean fall apart the same way I did." Sam's eyes widened as he shook his head, pleads muffled behind the tape. Ryan pulled his arm back and clocked Sam in the face, just shy of hitting his nose. Sam's head shot back, the chair falling down onto the cement and taking it's prisoner with it. Sam groaned, feeling something wet seeping from his head. He knew he probably earned another concussion but that was the least of his problems. Ryan kneeled over Sam, ignoring the glaring the man was giving him.
"The fact that your his brother makes it a hell of a lot better than just his lover," Ryan said before spitting on the young hunter's face and walking away from the man, leaving Sam on the cold ground.
Rufus' cabin wasn't like his home. For one thing it was a cabin. It didn't have a garage lot, a second floor, or the old wooden desk Bobby owned, cluttered with books of lore, weapons, research, and a bottle or two of whiskey. There however was a beer stain on the couch, so that somewhat resembled his old home. Still, it didn't quite feel the same. Bobby groaned when he heard the phone going off. Only the Winchester's knew his number, but random people have been calling for a "Brian Murphy" and it was taking everything in Bobby to not have a screaming match with caller. But as Bobby walked over to the outdated phone and answered it, he couldn't help the words that spilt out of his mouth.
"Listen this isn't Brian Murphy," Bobby said, "and if you're trying to sell me inspirational signs or other useless decorations for my house it burned down so stop calling before I-"
"Bobby," Dean cut the man off as soon as he heard the begining of what could be a long threat, "Sam's missing." Bobby placed the bottle of liquor he found in the outdated kitchen down on the old desk.
"What the hell happened Dean? Don't tell me you left him alone." The stretched silence from the other end gave Bobby the answer he was dreading to hear.
"Balls," Bobby sighed walked over to a drawer, his knees creaking from all the years of hunting and stress and old age. He pulled out a pen and notepad. "Where are you now?"
"Des Moines, Iowa in a shitty motel called the Leafford." Bobby wrote down the name of the motel before he talked to the young, obviously nervous man on the other line.
"I'll leave in about five minutes. I'll be there by morning." Dean let out a breath, obviously relieved he still had someone who can help them out. "Thanks Bobby, you're the best."
"Don't mention it. Just try to find out where the damn idget could be you idget," Bobby muttered before hanging up. Dean tossed his phone onto the single queen size bed, and sat down on the bed rubbing his mouth.
"Damn it Sammy," he choked out, tears starting to fill his eyes. He quickly wiped them away. He needed to be strong. For the both of them.
Updates probably won't be as fast as this but this story is my #1 writing priority so I will try to update it as soon as I can.