A/N: We left Sam in the library parking lot, staring at a defaced Impala. The scene isn't over yet. Also, I have never written Rufus before. Reviews are welcomed to let me know how well I've done with his voice.
Sam drew his gun and slowly made his way toward the Impala, looking around him to make sure there was no one hanging around. He reached for the car handle and yanked the door open. He got in quickly and shut the door. He nervously fumbled for the keys in his pocket. As he slipped it into the ignition, he heard the click of a shotgun, from inside the Impala. The next thing he felt was the barrel of a Colt on the back of his head.
"Throw all of your weapons in the backseat, nice and slow."
The voice was raspy, as if the owner had been smoking cigarettes for 30 years. Sam did as he asked, throwing the .45 in his hand into the backseat.
"The knife in your pant leg too, Sam."
Damn.Sam reached down and slipped the blade from its sheath on his ankle, and handed back the knife.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Damien," he said, keeping the gun trained on the back of Sam's head. "Start the car," he ordered. Sam turned the key and the Impala roared to life. "Make a left out of here and take this road until I tell you to stop. And no theatrics; you'll be dead before you get to see your precious brother."
"What did you do with Dean?" Sam asked, shifting the car into drive. Damien pointed his gun at the ceiling of the car and took a shot, leaving a nice hole in the upholstery.
"Any more questions?"
Sam shook his head. "N-no."
"Good. If you don't start driving right now, the next shot will be through the back of your head. Understand?"
"Y-yes sir." Sam casually pulled out of the library parking lot and headed in the direction Damien had indicated. Hopefully Dean was still alive, wherever he was.
~SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN~
A few hours later…
"Come on, damn it!" Rufus shouted as he pounded on Sam's motel room door. He'd been there for twenty minutes trying to get in. "Answer the damn door, Sam!" When there was no answer, he took out his cell and dialed the youngest Winchester's phone.
This is Sam, leave a message.
"Shit," he cursed, flipping through his contacts until he came to Bobby's number. It took five rings before he heard his friend's gruff voice.
"What's the matter?"
"Sam ain't answering the door, Bobby. Something's wrong."
"Balls!"
"Something I should know, Bobby?"
"The bastard that took Dean knows what Sam looks like."
"So he's basically a neon sign for this bastard," Rufus said as he hopped into the bed of his truck and opened up his tool chest to get a weapon.
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"Where was he the last time he called you?" Rufus asked as he hopped over the side of his truck, landing by the driver's door.
"Public Library, corner of Lyell Street and Clover Avenue."
"I'm headin' there now. Get your ass here fast as you can."
~SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN~
Dean was half asleep when he heard a scuffle at the top of the basement stairs. He squinted as the door swung open, flooding the basement with light from upstairs. He heard several sets of feet descending the stairs. As the group reached the bottom, the grunts of the person in captivity became very recognizable to him.
"Sammy?"
Sam looked up at the sound of his name as he was stripped of his clothing and shoved into the dirt.
"Dean – " he was cut off as a boot came in contact with his head.
"Shut up and sit still!"
Dean watched, helpless, as the two men clamped his little brother's wrists and ankles into chains. The muscle left, and Damien strode up, a smug look on his face. He noticed Dean blinking his eyes sleepily.
"You weren't sleeping again, were you Dean?" he asked, reaching for the mallet on the table. Dean scooted backward, terrified.
"N-no, I swear I wasn't." Damien came at him with the mallet, and he tried to raise a foot to kick him. Damien swung the mallet and it met with Dean's ankle. A scream came out of Dean as he felt a bone break.
"You're going to be a hard one to break, Dean. I think we're going to have to step it up a notch."
Dean looked over at his brother, who was sitting up against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees.
"It's okay, Sammy. I won't let him hurt you."
Damien stepped between the two, holding a hot poker.
"You're going to tell me where to find that gate, Dean." He took Sam by the arm and pinned it to the wall. Without hesitation he pushed the poker into Sam's open palm. Sam screams filled the basement as the poker burned through his skin.
"Don't you fucking touch him, you sick fuck!" Dean shouted, thrashing helplessly against his restraints. Damien didn't listen. He took Sam's other hand and gave him an identical burn mark. Dean thrashed and swore, but his insults were drowned out by Sam's painful screams.
"Do you have anything to tell me, Dean?"
"You can poke me with that thing all you want, but leave him alone," Dean said weakly, trying to catch his breath from what he'd just been forced to witness.
"Oh, I plan to do much more than that, Dean. We're going to have a hell of a time…"
Additional notes: I hope I did not jump all over the place with this chapter. If anyone has a suggestion for chapter 4, please pass it along via review!
