CHAPTER 3
Confusion had set in, once more. He wasn't sure where he was or what the hell was going on. All he knew is his body hurt like a bitch and he was being dragged across the floor.
Darkness. There was darkness, and silence. Shit! He had fallen asleep, or actually, passed out would probably be a better explanation.
The coldness against his abused skin. Naked. Ropes, again. NO! his brain shouted, but he couldn't seem to speak. Sam's muffled sounds were filling the silence. He couldn't do this. No, not the table, not THAT table. No.
He tried. He tried to fight, tried to get away, but he was too weak, too exhausted. He couldn't. Fear rose in him like a hot fire catching a line of gasoline. The table. The table. The table. That's all Dean could seem to get through his brain. He wasn't even exactly sure why he was so scared of 'the table' but, he was, and, he knew it was an important reason, he just couldn't remember.
God, he wished Sam would just shut up. His muffled cries did nothing to help him feel better. But, then again, neither did this! He thought as his eyes shot opened with the pain that entered his body as the man pushed himself back inside.
Oh... that's why, that's why the fear for the table. Now he remembered, a little too late, but hey, at least he remembered, right? Now, he wished he hadn't. He knew it was worse this time. The pain was far worse. Probably because now, he was working against torn, abused, burnt flesh. Before it had been just sensitive, skin that he had to tear through, but now he was reopening old wounds and tearing through the burns he caused.
He couldn't even scream. Not this time. The pain was too much. Instead of the rope, the man wrapped his hands around Dean's throat, breaking off the oxygen supply his lungs so badly needed. He heard him say something about good. Something about feeling good, when he chokes him. The thought sent bile rising through the back of this throat and finding its way under his face. Again. Man, this has got to stop. When did my body become such a wimp? Dean thought to himself.
Of course, if he was being honest with himself. His body was being pretty damn strong considering everything it had endured, but Dean couldn't be honest with himself, he couldn't even get his mind to work properly. He couldn't completely register everything that was going on, or that had already happened.
He was pretty sure, when the man wasn't choking him, this time, he was punching him in the ribs and on his back, he thinks he said something about the pain tightening him? Making it feel good. Yeah, okay, it feels good to him, he gets it. But, Dean had to disagree, nothing about this felt good.
He couldn't even really tell what 'this' was anymore. Lightning strikes of pain were running through his body, shooting out of every nerve ending. It was all a big blur of pain. He wasn't sure what hurt, and what didn't anymore. He figured there probably wasn't anything that didn't hurt. His shuddering body was defying his will to keep control over what little he had left. The shaking, his body was shaking so hard. It was freezing, actually. And damn, did it make everything hurt that much worse!
"Dad, please…. Help." Dean mumbled under his breath in the most pathetic pleading tone he could have possibly come up with. If his mind had been working he would have kicked himself for sounding so pathetic.
Sam's heart dropped to the floor. Here his brother was, being beaten and raped beyond what anyone should ever experience and he just begged his dad to come and help him.
Sam almost laughed at the thought. Their dad had been missing. They had tried to find him. Dean even pulled him away from college to find him. They had tried to call him, but didn't even get an answer. Not a hello, good bye, fuck you… nothing.
There was no way the man was going to show up now. No way he was going to save them. But, Dean still kept his blind faith in the man. Why? Sam had no idea. But, he was pretty sure he was going to hang from the chains and watch his brother die, begging for their dad to save him.
"I'm your daddy now!" The man smirked through the huffs of breath as he forced himself inside of Dean with a vengeance.
Dean's eyes rolled in the back of his head, his breaths were coming in short puffs. He hadn't even realized it was over. Didn't know the man had finished, once again, leaving part of him behind.
Again. Blood poured down Dean's legs. This time. He was turned so Sam could see the amount of blood, instead of his face. And he felt his own bile rise into his mouth. He gagged as he swallowed it back down.
He watched as the man forced the red-hot metal rod into his brother. Sure, it stopped the bleeding, but the amount of pain it caused his brother was more than he could handle. His body shook, hard. Sam wasn't sure that his brother wasn't having a seizure from shock.
Sam had stopped trying to fight against the chains, he grew tired of screaming gagged screams. His mind just wanted to shut down, to forget everything he had seen. He closed his eyes, gently blocking out the sight in front of him. But, he couldn't block out the sounds, or the smell of burning flesh.
He only opened his eyes when he heard his brother's body hit the floor with a loud thud. And the heavy door squeak open and slam closed, the same as before. Sam figured, perhaps, it was night time, again. He figured that's where the man went to the last time he had left, he figured he needed sleep.
So, did Sam, and Dean, god they needed sleep, not unconsciousness, like Dean was currently in, but actual sleep, in an actual bed, not being beaten on or raped. He started letting his mind drift. He jumped as he was startled by the sound of the heavy door opening again. And the man returning.
He should have figured they wouldn't get so lucky. Now that he thought about it, it didn't seem like it was long enough to be an entire day, but then again, he didn't have a clue who this man was. Maybe he had a day job and only entertained himself once he got home?
He didn't know how much time had passed between times, could have been hours for all he knew. Either way, his brother had suffered enough for one day, hell, he's suffered enough for an entire lifetime. But, the man didn't seem like he was finished, yet.
He grabbed Dean, pouring ice cold water over his face, shocking him back awake with a gasp and wide, wild eyes. He lifted Dean, slamming him into a hard, wooden chair. Dean gasped and winced at the pain sitting caused, especially with the force it involved. The man tied Dean's hands behind the chair. There really wasn't even any need for that, it's not like he had anything left in him to fight with.
"Ready to talk now?" The man asked as he sat in a chair across from him.
Dean barely found the strength to lift his head, and hold his eyes opened long enough to lock glances with the man. He tried, he really did, but he couldn't get the wheels in his brain to work. He couldn't remember what he needed, or didn't need, to talk about.
"Hunter's names, and locations. NOW!" The man shouted angrily when he didn't get an immediate answer.
Oh, yeah, hunters. Names. Why did he need names? Didn't he already know who they were? And… where they were? Or at least how to get into contact with them, because everyone knew not all hunters stayed in one place for very long. If he knew about hunters. He should have known the answer to his question, so… why was he asking Dean?
Hunters. Names. He honestly couldn't think of any. He knew that he knew, but he couldn't remember, couldn't manage to think straight. Hunters. Dad, he needed Dad. Why the hell did he hurt so bad? Why did he feel so tired, so exhausted?
There was another large splash of ice cold water to his face, that sent shock waves through the pain. He gasped again.
"Names, locations!" The man repeated.
Dad. I need Dad. I don't know what's going on. I don't know where I'm at. I need Dad. That was all Dean could manage to get through his brain.
"Dad." He said out loud, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.
"Who is your dad?" The man asked, he was getting really upset with Dean's lack of response.
"Dad… help… please." Dean begged in a voice barely above a whisper.
Another ice-cold splash to the face, drenching his body, once more, sending him into uncontrolled shivers. A punch to the face caused his head to feel like it spun around 360 degrees. His vision was already as blurred as his brain was. His hearing was starting to sound muffled. It was hard for him to concentrate on the words the man in front of him was saying.
Who was the man in front of him? He couldn't really see him, and now it was getting hard to hear him too, but, who was he? He wasn't anyone he knew and trusted, that was for sure.
"Who… who are…. You?" Dean managed to force the question out.
The man laughed. "I'm your worst nightmare, son."
"Not… not… my… dad! Nnnnot… Your… Son!" Dean mumbled before the man's fist contacted his face, causing blood to spew from his lips and nose.
Dean closed his eyes, not tight, just enough to let the pain wash over him and calm back down.
"Now, I'm only going to ask you this one more time, or I'm going to shoot your friend over there." The man said, pointing toward Sam with the gun that was now in his hand.
He turned Dean so he could see who he was talking about. Sam. It was Sam. Friend? Sam was his brother.
"Names of all the damn hunters you know, and their locations!"
Dean crinkled his forehead, confusion flooding his face. "I… I don't… know… I… wh…what's gggoing on?... Where… I… don't… understand."
The words were hard for Dean to get out, and something, somewhere, told him he wasn't supposed to be using words, but he didn't understand, he wasn't sure what the man was saying or what he was wanting.
The man slammed the gun against the side of Dean's head. "How about I just shoot you, then? Put you out of your misery?"
Sam started his mumbled cries again, pulling against the chains. His brother had fought so hard, hell, he was still fighting. There was no way Sam could sit there and watch his brother be shot. If this killed him, if he died from the torture, then at least he went down swinging, protecting everything he held precious. But a gunshot was a loser's way out. It was too simple, too clean, too easy.
"But, first…" The man chuckled. "How about a little more fun with that ass of yours?"
He grabbed Dean from the chair and pulled him to the table. Instantly, without knowing why, Dean found some buried strength, it was hidden somewhere deep, but it surfaced, just enough for him to try to put up a fight when they approached the table. There was something about that table. Something that scared the hell out of him. Something he didn't want.
"NO!" Dean shouted as he tried to struggle away from the man.
Somehow, he managed to pull his arm out of his grip, and he stumbled backwards, falling onto the floor, and he scurried his way across the floor, away from the man, and huddled into a corner.
The man, he stood there and laughed. He knew there was no way Dean could get away. The room was locked up tight. But, he found it interesting that Dean managed to still have that kind of strength and will power after all the torture he had been through.
"Maybe I won't shoot you, not just yet." The man said with a grin. "You're the most interesting catch I've had yet. Maybe, we'll just see how much you can take, before your body goes with your mind." The man smirked as he grabbed Dean's arm, forcing him back to the table.
Dean was submissive, until they reached the table. His eyes went wide, and a wildness filled them as he tried to fight his way away from there, again. This time, the man was ready, and Dean's will power and fight was met by the end of the whip.
"Or, maybe you would like to trade places with your friend? Huh? Give yourself a break?" The man smirked when he stopped whipping Dean.
"NO! leave… leave him… alone." Dean gasped out in pain.
Dean was still confused, not sure what he didn't remember, not sure why he was so damned scared of that table, but he knew he didn't want Sam anywhere near it. He knew he had to protect his brother from whatever it was he was so scared of.
Sam had to admit he was shocked, he thought his brother was on death's doorstep, but now he was putting up a fight, and a pretty damn good one at that. He knew it was driven by fear, fear of the table. For a brief moment he wondered if Dean would ever be able to look at a metal table without running in fear again. That could be a problem, since all autopsy tables were metal.
And, just like that his thought deflated. If. If they ever made it out of here alive, maybe that would come up. But, he didn't see any hope in making it out alive. Especially not Dean. Even though he had surprised him with his latest burst of energy, but he still knew his body could only last so long, and his mind seemed to be about gone, already.
Dean's cries filled the air as Sam realized he had zoned out and he was now watching a repeat of earlier, again. His brother, tied to the table he hated, being violated and abused by a stranger. When the man collapsed onto Dean's back, Sam closed his eyes.
He knew nothing would block the sound and smell, but he knew what was coming next, and he couldn't. He just couldn't watch that happen again. He couldn't watch his brother being burned, literally, from the inside out.
The strangled sobs of what were once screams had stopped. Loud thud, body hitting the floor. Unnerving squeak of the heavy door, followed by the slam of it being shut and locked. Sam opened his eyes again. The vision all too familiar. His brother, laying lifeless on the floor, his body broken by the abuse of unending pain.
Sam cried. Not because he was scared, not because someone was in front of him, hurting his brother. Not this time. This time it was because there was nothing he could do, he was helpless. His brother was going to die the most painful death imaginable, and there was nothing he could do.