Here's another chapter for everyone. This one is the start of some action. Blue Peanut M&M and Sammygirl1963, You have been great with all the reviews and support. This one is for you. Enjoy and I hope to hear from you soon! To everyone else who reviewed thank you so much! Keep hitting that button.
Chapter 2
Sam woke to a world of pain. He opened the eye that would obey his mental commands and was immediately assaulted by a feeling of blindness. The room was pitch black and his head still exploded with pain. Heat radiated up his arm from what he could feel was a bad wound near his elbow. He could feel the dried blood caking his skin. He turned his head, tucking his chin to try and rub what he now knew to be blood from the eye that wouldn't open. He gasped as his shoulder ignited pain in a wound on his head. Sam tried to cry out, call out, speak, something, but nothing seemed to want to work properly. All that came out was a croak. He swallowed against the dry feeling in his throat and tried again.
"De…" He swallowed again and blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the inky blackness. Feeling was coming back to him and he could now see outlines and shapes around him but that was all. He still had no clue where he was or who had him. He tried to sit up and found he couldn't move. Panic flared through him as he felt restriction at his wrists, neck and ankles. He was bound to the hard surface at his back by leather straps. What the hell? He thought, trying to control the building fear in him. A chuckle sounded out in the darkness. He jumped, not even aware someone had been watching.
"Who…" He rasped out, clearing his parched throat he tried again. "Who are you? What do… you want with me?" He heard foot steps echo in the room and a door was opened, bright light streaming through and blinding him. He wrenched his head to the side, fighting the resistance he met at his neck, and cried out as pain blossomed behind his eyes. He missed the figure moving through the door and glancing back at him in the light. He missed the face he would have recognized as the older hunter friend who'd saved his life so many times in the past. The door slammed with a metallic echo that made his ears ring. He was plunged into all consuming darkness again. When his pounding head settled some he tried to break free of the restraints. He flexed and strained against the coarse grained leather that held him fast to the steel table.
"Guuuhhhh." He cried as the leather around his neck bit into his flesh and cut off his air supply. When he'd pulled at some slack in his hands and ankles the strap around his neck tightened. He sagged, realizing he was unable to get free without help. His strength deserted him and he felt the beckoning darkness envelop him. He gave in, feeling like he was going mad.
Sam found himself standing in a cemetery on a pitch black night. No stars or moon glowed in the sky. Sam began walking, some unseen force making his footfalls sure even though he felt blind. It propelled him on with a growing sense of urgency. Fog snaked about his ankles, feeling almost tangible, as if it could wrap him up and trip him. It steadily rose from the ground to enshroud him. He felt as though he were suffocating, drowning in the mists. The water droplets clung to his skin and a chill penetrated his flesh, going clear to his bones to settle there.
Sam pushed forward through the rising mist a now urgent feeling of needing to find something controlling his every move, spurring him on again. He stopped suddenly, the feeling leaving him to be replaced by the feeling he'd found what he was looking for. The mists that had obscured everything appeared to shrink back from the massive black granite headstone. He circled it slowly; having come up from what he thought was the back. It appeared to gleam in the moisture laden darkness even though there was no natural light.
"No." Sam near whispered. "No." The headstone was blank and smooth. He felt the fog move in around him, a tangible vibration going through it, echoing to him. The force that had propelled him to find the granite slab now gripped him and he found himself reaching both hands towards the black granite. He couldn't stop himself. "No!" He cried even as he fought the pull of the unseen force. The fog began to vibrate and hum around him. He felt part of himself detach and found himself watching a copy of him.
He watched 'Sam' touch the stone and he shared the sensation of the smooth stone sliding under his fingers, the rough sides scratching at the skin of his fingertips. It was wet although the fog never seemed to touch it. He could feel the moisture. Sam watched himself caress the stone almost lovingly, horror coursing through his blood. The fog began to intensely hum, pulsating for a second before the tone changed audibly, becoming a whisper. He heard it, speaking in hushed tones to the other 'Sam'.
'Sam' continued to caress the cold stone sharing the sensation but not speaking. Sam saw his counterpart move forward and lay his face against the stone, his cheek connecting for a brief moment as the whisper became understandable words.
"On your hands. It's on your hands, the blood of many, the blood of one. It's on your hands, on your hands." Sam shrank back at the words that assaulted him. He clapped his hands to his ears and tried to block the words that shattered his soul. He turned his head away and screwed his eyes shut, hands still covering his ears and he squeezed more forcibly against the sides of his head. The fog snaked around his chin and forced his head back to the scene before him. His eyes were pried open by the controlling force and his hands forced to his sides. He was made to absorb the scene before him. He found he couldn't look away or even blink. The whispers took delight in his suffering. The words gained speed and intensity, becoming a maddening chant.
"On your hands, it's on your hands. On your hands, it's on your hands. On your hands, it's on your hands. On your hands it's on your hands. On your hands it's on your hands"
The moon came out of hiding and 'Sam' stood and stepped away from the stone. The light shone on him as he held his hands up to Sam. Sam shook his head vehemently but was unable to pry his eyes away from the sight he beheld. 'Sam's' hands and forearms were red with dripping blood and his cheek had the same crimson stain on it, dripping off his chin. 'Sam' turned his hands out to the Sam watching on in horror.
'Sam' tossed his head to shake his hair back from his eyes. As he brought his head back to face his fear struck counter part his eyes turned yellow. He moved with blinding speed to stand directly in front of Sam. He raised his bloody hands to Sam's face. They burned like a cold acid and Sam felt himself die inside.
"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Even as he screamed his yellow eyed counterpart threw his head back and bellowed with laughter. Sam felt his essence being ripped apart. His scream was choked off and was replaced by that same laugh. Sam looked at his hands, still roaring with that uncontrollable maniacal laughter. Blood dripped from his fingers to stain the earth crimson.
Sam woke not with a scream, but with that laugh echoing in the darkness around him and still pouring from him. Horror streaked through him and set fire to his soul as he roared with that evil laughter. The same laughter that had come from him when he was possessed, when Ruby had made him "evil" to save Dean from hell. Tears streamed down his face as he silently begged for the strength to stop. He raised his head as far as the restraint around his neck would allow and slammed it back to the table. It was enough to render him unconscious, silencing that laugh bubbling from his throat and driving him mad. He didn't see the three pairs of black eyes that watched from the darkness and inside his mind. He didn't notice the one set briefly become human hazel and shine with sympathy and determination before flickering to that black and becoming invisible in the darkness once again.
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"Watch for the signs. What the hell do they mean by watch for the signs Bobby? Where could he be? What the hell are they doin' to m' brother?" Dean said as he pushed himself up from the bed in the motel room, running a hand nervously through his short hair before resuming pacing about the small room.
"Kid, I wish I knew. Last I heard from Joshua was two weeks ago. He was on a hunt…" Bobby trailed off, an odd look coming to his face.
The sudden silence from the older hunter had Dean stopping and turning to face him from across the room where his feet had taken him. "What Bobby?"
"Josh was on a hunt with two others. Three demons who got outta the gate were on a rampage. Powerful. With a grudge against psychics. Remember how Sam thought there were more generations of psychics out there besides his?"
"Rosie."
"And others, older. They'd be middle aged now, born in '60. Josh figured out it was true when these three started going around killing off the kids or possessing them and leaving them institutionalized. He followed leads on the kids and found five in hospitals. The rest are dead."
"Every twenty three years?"
"Yep. Powerful. Way more so than Sam. Josh gathered that these demons wanted one of these other kids to take Sam's place as leader of the demon army. I'd be willing to bet that these hunters stumbled on those demons."
"You think they're possessed and have Sam?"
"Boy, I'd bet my life on it."
"If those freakin demons lay a hand on him or do anything to Josh they're gonna wish they stayed in hell." Dean raced across the room and grabbed his jacket.
"Dean, where the hell are you goin'?"
"To watch for the signs." He left the motel room, Bobby following as the older hunter pulled his ball cap down on his head.
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Sam woke to the echoing sound of the steel door slamming. A bare bulb flickered to life above him. It cast a glare that had him closing his eyes tight as pain exploded behind them. He rolled his head to the side as far as he could, wincing when the steel table put pressure on his self inflicted lump.
"I see you finally decided to join us in the land of the living and not delusional." A voice said as the body it belonged to quickly tied a black cloth around Sam's head, effectively blindfolding him. The knot was tied tightly in his long hair. He tried to shrug them off, hating the cold feel of the hands that gripped his chin to hold him still. As he fought, the restraint about his neck was forcibly tightened when a cold hand gripped his wrist and pulled it up off the table. It threatened to strangle him. He forced himself to still and relax. The hand dropped his wrist and he drew much needed air into his lungs, dissolving into a coughing fit that had him panting and his head throbbing.
He swallowed hard when the cough stopped. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked quietly with a note of desperation in his voice. The others in the room laughed softly.
"Because we want to hold an election instead of being told who leads us. We want to choose who we follow when we fight to rule this world." Sam heard footsteps approach as his total lack of sight forced his other senses into hyper-awareness. He heard air swoosh and pain exploded in his head as a fist connected with his right cheek just below his eye. His head snapped to the side, the leather restraint cutting his neck. His world went black instantly as the person behind the fist turned to the others. Sam didn't feel the blood soaking into his collar. He didn't feel the cut on his cheek that soon mingled its blood with the other. He didn't hear the person say, "Take him off the table, strip him to the waist, and hang him from the ceiling in the other room."
"Should we treat his injuries?" Another voice asked.
"No, he's going to have worse ones soon." A Polaroid camera was pulled from a pocket by the person speaking and Sam didn't see the flash go off. "Send this to the brother." One of the people took the picture and looked at it. It showed clearly a restrained and blindfolded Sam Winchester, with a vivid, swelling, bloody bruise on his cheek and a cut on his neck, blood flowing to stain his shirt with every heartbeat. The person who now had the picture walked from the room still staring at it. The human hazel of his eyes filled with tears as he thought of what the boy would go through before he could make his move. The eyes hardened and turned black once again, tears drying up.
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It was dark now. Dean and Bobby had ridden in the Impala for nearly twelve hours after taking it from the diner and calling the police anonymously to report a mass murder and robbery. They had been scouring every road from paved to dirt in two counties with no sign of Sam. Dean was becoming frantic now, the picture of his brother's blood on the cooler doors burned forever into his memory. He suddenly hit the brakes hard, bringing the car to a screeching halt. Bobby reached out to brace himself against the dash as Dean pounded a fist off the wheel in agitation. "DAMN IT!" He laid his head back against the seat and swallowed hard at the mental images that assaulted him. Images both from his dream and things his mind was telling him were happening to Sam.
Sam, tied up somewhere, being beaten and tortured, whipped, cut, burned. Sam possessed, eyes glowing yellow instead of black as he faced off against Dean, the other demons flanking their General closely. Sam, dying in Dean's arms again, this time a bullet from the Colt embedded in his chest. Sam, covered in his own blood, begging for Dean to save him and dying alone because Dean wasn't able to protect him. Dean's breathing became faster, more audible, as Bobby watched the emotions play across his face.
"Dean?" Getting no response Bobby turned in the seat and reached a hand to Dean's shoulder. "Dean?" Dean jumped at his name and turned to his friend.
"Sorry."
"You're exhausted. Lemme drive for a bit. 'sides, I get the feeling these damn demons would want to keep Sam close, keep him under our noses to mess with our heads. Let's head back to the motel and I'll make some calls, see if someone's heard anything recently from those other two hunters Josh was with. Maybe it's not them. C'mon, shove over." Dean got out of the car and circled as Bobby did the same. Dean stopped before getting back in and put his elbows up on the roof of the car. His hands clenched together, white knuckled on the roof.
"Bobby, what if it's not those hunters? What if it's the kids; that older generation you mentioned? What would they do to him if they want to take his place?"
Bobby looked at Dean over the roof of the car. "Let's hope it is the hunters."
A/N: Please let me know what you think. Next update will be late tomorrow. Hope to see you back.
