"BUT I WAS NUMBER NINETY-FOUR! THERE WERE AT LEAST SIX MORE, WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE TH-" The girl's ranting was abruptly cut off when Castiel simultaneously apprehended her and applied two fingers to her forehead to incapacitate her. There was no flash of light or heat this time.
As Castiel handed her body off to Dean and muttered something about checking a lead before fluttering off, Dean managed to get her body into what he hoped was a comfortable position on the backseat of the Impala before turning to look up at Sam.
It was unfortunate that she had woken up, especially in her state of exhaustion and confusion and whatever else, but at least they were no longer within earshot of the demon compound. "What does she mean she was number ninety-four? Did they take that many fleshbags to possess? Seems a little excessive." Sam didn't respond. He just walked around the trunk until he reached the passenger side door, halted, and leaned against the roof of the car with his elbows, and laced his fingers together in front of his forehead. Dean closed the backseat door, careful not to catch one of the girl's feet, and stood opposite Sam. "What do you think, Sammy?"
Looking his brother straight in the eye, Sam talked in hushed tones. "I don't think they were using them as bodies to possess. I think it was a lot worse than that. Much worse than we thought going in. And she was ninety-four out of one hundred. I think being so close to the end is how she stayed alive long enough for you to find her." Sam dropped his head down against his hands again, clearly contemplating some of that psychological bullshit that he was so into. Dean wasn't going to ask about that, though.
"How do you know it was out of one hundred?" He almost didn't want to know. Almost. No matter how gruesome it was, it still might help him work the case, and that's what was important. Sam paused before he responded. "Because I saw the cells. I saw the list. And I killed the guards." Looking at Dean to see his shocked expression, Sam felt he had to justify his actions. "They deserved it, Dean. You didn't see what they did to all those girls, it was awful how they had to live, only to end up…what they did-"
"I get it, Sam. Shit was fucked up. How many were there?"
Sam took a moment to breathe. "From what I understand, the cells held 100 girls in the beginning. Then the guards would go down the list, and take one at a time to wherever- I think that room you guys found the girl in- and when the girls were dead, they would take the body, dump it in a cell, and cross the name off the list. When I got there, there was one cell filled with the dead bodies they hadn't gotten rid of, and in another cell… the guards were in that one. They just killed one of the girls when I…"
Sam let that sink in. When Dean's face stopped showing emotion and went back to his normal mask, Sam continued. "But the thing is, I think the guards new something was going down. That they weren't going to have to finish the list. Either that or they got lazy and crossed off names before they were sure the girls were dead. Maybe they prematurely crossed off their intended victims."
Dean was pretty composed, even as he thought about how the girl was so ready to die, to be led to her death by anyone who walked in. "What makes you say that?"
Sam glanced at the backseat of the Impala. After opening the passenger door, he stood there, staring at nothing as he answered his brother.
"All of the names were crossed off. All one hundred. And she said there should be 6 remaining, right? Cuz she was ninety-four, and there should have been six more girls in line, alive. But they weren't. The guards had seen to that, in many creative ways. Even her name was crossed off. 94, Brooke. I took it with me, but it's only first names. They probably thought she would die, or they planned to take care of it when we interrupted."
Sam swung into the car, resting in his seat as he closed the door and waited for the driver to join him.
