This isn't exactly an author's note, more of angry rant. I was reading a (very multi-chaptered) story, and at the beginning of one the author's notes it says "So, I'm not getting as many reviews as I like, so if you want me to continue I'll need more reviews or I'm not finishing this story." Who does that? That's not what this website is about. We're supposed to write for the entertainment of our readers, and if they feel compelled to review, than great! But don't force the issue onto them. People read because they like your story, you shouldn't try to make them tell you that they like it! The fact that they read should be enough for you. Sorry, just had to get that out, anyway, here's chapter three. It gets vaguely violent, so be warned. (Not too graphic… I hope not, anyway)
Chrystabel finally put the knife back on the tray. Drops of blood ran off it and dripped steadily onto some of the other various tools. Sam chest also had red liquid seeping from the engraving Chrystabel had carved into him. It wasn't very big, it was only about six inches long and wide.
Sam had prided himself in having only screamed once. It seemed to make Chrystabel mad when he wouldn't give a reaction. It was pretty much the only thing he could do. If this really was it for him, he would spend every last second in defiance.
"No! I'm gonna get outta this. I've gotta kill Lilith first. This can't be it."
His thoughts switched to a ray of panic when one of the other demons reentered the room with a long metal instrument. Upon closer inspection, Sam could see that the end of it was glowing red.
"That can't be good."
"Ah, you brought it!" Chrystabel cheered as she saw the demon enter with the metal poker. She turned her attention back to Sam. "You don't mind if I have a little chat with my friend here, do you?" She asked not really expecting an answer. Sam knew she didn't plan on him responding, but he did anyway.
"Sure, go ahead. I'm a little tied up right now."
She sneered at his snide remark and met the other demon at the door. Besides those two demons, Sam was alone. The others left, he guessed, due to his lack of a reaction. Where's the fun in torture when they won't even react?
"Maybe I can bore them into leaving me alone."
He lifted his head as far as he could. Chrystabel was talking inaudibly with the larger demon. He was fairly fat and had a buzz cut. He reminded Sam of a gym teacher that had really let himself go.
Chrystabel stopped talking, and the man grinned eagerly.
"That's definitely a bad sign."
Chrystabel approached Sam, with the other demon following close behind.
"Now, Sam," she said sweetly, "I'm gonna let Marzel here have some fun with you. Can't keep you all to myself."
Sam rolled his eyes. "How generous of you."
She giggled and gave Marzel a quick kiss on the cheek and left to two of them alone. Marzel looked down to Sam, and looked like a wolf preparing to leap out from the shadows. His eyes focused on the metal stick and he toyed with it casually.
"So, Sam," He brought his gaze back to Sam. "Chrystabel tells me you won't scream."
Without warning he shoved the tip of the poker into Sam's abdomen. A pained gasp came from Sam as it not only pierced his skin, but burned the inside of him as well. Marzel harshly twisted the tool and swiftly yanked it out.
The demon then poised it over Sam's face, right above his eyes. Sam could feel the heat radiating from it, and he heard his blood sizzling at the end. A small drop fell onto his face. He twitched at the sensation as memories of Jess pinned to the ceiling and blood falling on him started flooding his head. Marzel's voice snapped him back.
"Let's see if I can change that."
Marzel lowered the weapon to the still bleeding chest wound Chrystabel had given Sam. He traced the hot end of the poker against Sam's cuts. Sam's frantic gasps were drowned out by the crackling of his skin. Sam felt his back arch at the pain, which only caused the poker to be pressed further against him.
Beads of sweat started forming on Sam's forehead as he kept on holding back his cries. Short whimpers fought their way through, but he wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"Just don't scream, don't scream. Oh, God! It hurts, just stop it, please! Maybe if I scream, they'll stop. No! Don't scream, don't scream."
Almost as if Marzel had heard his thoughts, he pushed the tip of the tool through Sam's wounds eliciting a low groan from Sam.
As much as Sam fought, Marzel just seemed to push harder against his flesh. His gasps became frantic and heavy. At the end of one of his pants, one word slipped through.
"Dean…"
Marzel laughed so hard that his whole body shook with the sound. Gratefully, he pulled the poker away from Sam's chest.
"Oh, Sammy," Marzel looked into Sam's silently pleading eyes. "Dean's not coming for you. He's going through a hell of a lot worse than this, literally."
Sam's tear filled eyes gave him a fierce glare as he mentioned his brother.
"Nothing we could possibly do to you compares to what they're doing to him. Seriously, he's getting torn apart in ways you'll never understand. They're ripping to shreds as we speak. They'll keep tearing until nothing's left and at the end of the day, he'll be made whole again, just so they can start all over."
Even in his weakened state Sam managed to put up a pretty decent fight against his bonds. He didn't care how useless it was, he just wish that Marzel would shut up and get back to torturing him. It hurt less.
"I almost wish I could be there just so I could hear him beg."
Sam grit his teeth. "Dean won't. He's stronger than that." He hated how much his voice cracked as he talked.
Marzel suddenly placed the poker against Sam's hand and grinned at Sam's surprised gasp of pain.
"Don't worry. No matter how strong you may seem, in the end," he shoved the instrument under one of Sam's finger nails, and Sam let out a gut wrenching cry of pain. Marzel smiled at it. "They always beg."
"Stop… just… stop." Sam wasn't sure if he was referring to the pain, or the painful words he spoke. Marzel went on with both. He dragged the poker along Sam's arm as he continued his monologue, which he now had to shout to be heard over Sam's cries.
"We've got Hell's best torturer down there with him. Nobody lasts long with him, not even the great Dean Winchester. He'll plead to be taken off that rack, and once he does, he'll become one of us."
The demon considered his next words carefully and smiled as he chose what to say. "Maybe once you're down there, and believe me, that's definitely where you belong, maybe you'll run into him. I'll bet he'll be so happy to see you. Maybe he'll even be the one to torture you for sending him to Hell in the first place."
Sam had had enough. He felt his head burn in frustration and with whatever strength he had left, he shouted "SHUT UP!"
He expected Marzel to laugh at him, or just continue burning him. What he didn't expect was for Marzel to start coughing up black smoke. Sam's head didn't stop pounding and his rage didn't pass either. Without meaning to, Sam kept pushing Marzel from the man's body into the ground. Sam felt the blood pooling out of his nose. He saw the black cloud leave the body, before he finally passed out.
Geez, my paragraphs got pretty lengthy this chapter. I'm hoping not to make it a habit of only updating every other day so maybe I'll post the next one tomorrow. Sorry if I'm getting too intense with Sam's torture, but I've read worse so I hope it's not too bad. And I know Sam supposedly didn't know about what happened with Dean down in Hell. The reason I bring it up is cuz Sam would refuse to believe it until Dean tells him, which is why he never mentioned it earlier. Plus, them demons are just jerks enough to use that against him. Lastly (gosh this is getting long) sorry for any errors. I tried to post it quickly so I apologize for any mistakes I might have missed.
