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Just a warning: there is violence in this chapter. Not anything too graphic, but enough to warn you about it. Mostly the second half of the chapter.
I know parts of this probably aren't incredibly realistic, you'll have to forgive me. :)
Dean waited until dark.
Invisible in his full black garb, mask included, he went unseen by the security guard.
He was lucky it was a small police station or this would have been much harder.
Using the tree beside the station, Dean managed to climb onto the roof, where he easily lowered himself into the ventilation.
Way too freakin' easy.
The older brother made his way to the room that he hoped held the key to his brother's freedom and safe return, dropping down easily.
Where to look now?
...
In all, Dean found out more than he thought he would.
The police had collected all the information they could from the area, surprisingly well for such a small town that experienced so little action, Dean thought, and had wasted no time in processing said information.
One of the hunters had left fingerprints and it turned out, he had a huge record. The hunter, Christopher Broshman, was not one Dean had ever heard of or come across, but he would bet that Bobby had, or knew someone who had.
In one way or another, Bobby knew everybody.
Whipping out his phone, Dean quickly called Bobby, pacing back and forth near the Impala, impatient, trying to keep focused when all he wanted to do was break down and cry.
He felt the absence of his baby brother like a physical pain.
"Dean?"
"Hey Bobby. I know one of the hunter's names. You ever heard of a Christopher Broshman?"
There was silence for a second, then Bobby repeating the question assumedly to John.
"I haven't but I'll call a couple of people to see what information I can find."
"Alright, thanks."
"Hey, Dean?"
"Yeah."
"Don't do anything stupid, idjit. I want both of you back in one piece."
Dean hesitated. He wouldn't promise, but this was Bobby, a surrogate father, who had given them a home when they had none. He still gave them a home and Dean kinda imagined they would live there for many years to come. He had to give the man something.
"I'll do my best."
"Good luck."
Dean hung up, tossing his phone onto the passenger seat of the Impala, climbing in.
Alright. Now I guess we wait.
...
I can do this. I can do this. I cando this. Dean is relying on me to hang in there. I can do this. I'm a Winchester. I'm not going to panic. I can do this.
Sam was frightened. The hunters hadn't paid him much mind yet, but they were pulling in somewhere, slowing down. Sam couldn't see where, the windows not being positioned in a decent view for him to see through.
His imagination was conjuring up plenty enough just from what little the hunters had said.
They want to use me to hunt.
That alone frightened Sam.
What was worse, though, was the little they had said about some sort of "effective training program". That was what had Sam panicking.
How will Dean find me?
He will find me.
But how?
I can't give up on him already!
I'm scared. I want Dean. I want to go home.
Act like a Winchester, dang it! You're not a baby, you can do this!
I can't!
And suddenly, Dean's voice seemed to echo in Sam's ear, encouraging and soothing, fierce and intense. His brother rarely did things in halves and this conversation was just another proof of this.
Sam remembered this like it was yesterday. Afraid and hurting because of their dad's betrayal, Sam had admitted that he was afraid, but that he was so tired of being afraid.
Dean's response had been one that Sam would never forget.
"Everyone fears the unknown, Sammy, and the future is the biggest unknown there is."
Sam's wide, tearful eyes met Dean's. "Then what do I do?"
Dean laid his hands on Sam's shoulders, looking his baby brother in the eyes. "The key, Sammy, is who you have in your life. There is no need to truly fear the future when you are surrounded by those who love you, who will have your back, and will face that unknown future with you." Dean tightened his hold on Sam's shoulders. "I love you, Sammy." he said fiercely. "You hear me? I love you. I have your back. And I will face the future with you. So you don't need to be afraid because I will always be by your side. Dad made his choice and I made mine. I choose you."
"The angel was right about one thing, Sammy. You will never be alone."
Sam felt his wavering hope, his failing courage, suddenly respark and brighten to the roaring flame they usually were.
Dean will be here. And I will hold on. Because I trust him and...and because he trusts me. He trusts me to be strong enough. And I won't leave him alone either.
"Alright, Sammy, let's get started shall we?"
Sam looked up at his captor's and...he felt stubborn determination and hope fill him.
Bring it on.
...
Christopher Broshman stepped out of the van, looking around at the abandoned farm they had managed to track down.
The barn was where they had set up and Chris was proud of it. They had done a good job, if he did say so himself.
Let the games begin.
"Get him out." Chris casually ordered two of his fellow hunters and friends.
They nodded, used to Chris' orders. He ruled and went unquestioned in their little group. Using Sam had been his idea. Training the boy, taking him here, it had all been his idea.
Chris knew what he was doing.
Allowing himself a little grin, Chris prepared for what he imagined would be a very long night, at least for some of them.
...
Sam was all too aware of the gun one of the hunters was holding on him, unwavering and far enough away that Sam couldn't reach him. The hunter was steady, staying clear of his approaching friends, but with a nice view of Sam's vulnerable body.
Sam knew better than to move.
Another of the hunters released his ankle from its binding, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him out of the van, letting him fall to the ground with a grunt of pain.
"Go." the third hunter kicked at him roughly.
Sam started to stand, but he was pushed roughly back to the ground with a firm foot to the back.
"I didn't say stand. I said go."
Sam couldn't help the glare up at them. "You want me to crawl?"
He received a sharp kick to the face for that, hitting the ground, covering his bleeding nose with both hands, letting out a small moan of unexpected pain.
"Animals don't talk. Now, move."
Not wanting another kick to the face, Sam began the humiliating journey to the barn. Sure he had walked on all fours as a wolf, but this was different. He was human. The wolf was a convenient form, it wasn't him.
Dean will come. Dean is coming. This won't be for long. Dean will kick their sorry butts for this. He'll save me.
...
Chris had to force the rising grin from his face when he saw Sam crawl into the barn, his three friends following close behind.
Sam's face was red with embarrassment, but his eyes were still hard and Chris knew that while this was a good start, it was only barely a start.
It would take much more than a short crawl to break a Winchester.
Stepping over to one of the prepared tables, full of what Chris would need to create his new weapon, he listened as Sam's ankle was chained to a sturdy post in the middle of the barn, in a cleared portion of it.
Picking up the sharp bullhook, Chris very gently carressed the edge, a sadistic edge in his eyes that could have frightened even the bravest soldier.
Alright. Time for step one. Let's see what you're made of, Samuel Winchester.
...
The order came sharply. "Change to a wolf."
Sam glared up at his captor. "No."
The hunter sighed, shaking his head. "No, no, you see, that's just not going to cut it. Lesson one, Sam. You always obey."
Sam rolled his eyes.
Immediately, the hunter, Chris, lashed out with the bullhook he held in his hand, ripping across Sam's arm, instantly drawing blood.
Sam yelped, crumpling, clutching his arm.
"Lesson two. Disrespect is not allowed."
Sam breathed in a deep breath, trying to force himself to remember what he had learned about dealing with pain. Deep breath. In, out. In, out. Slow. Control is key. I can do this.
"Change." the order came again.
"Bite me." Crap. I must be channeling Dean today.
Chris sighed, shaking his head. "You aren't a very fast learner, are you? Every lesson broken will be punished, Sam, and you just broke three."
Chris walked over to the table, setting the bullhook down. He considered his options for a moment, before picking up a long rod. He pressed the button and it sparked.
Turning back to Sam, Chris pressed the end of the rod to Sam's shoulder, despite Sam's attempts to move away.
He pressed the button and Sam yelped again, jerking back.
"Lesson one, you will obey."
He pressed it again and Sam failed to bite back another cry of pain.
"Lesson two, disrespect is not allowed."
A third press of the button had Sam jerking convulsively, another cry of pain sharp and clear.
"Lesson three, you will not talk."
Sam lay on the ground, panting and gasping, chest heaving.
The glint in his attacker's eyes, one of triumph and arrogance, set Sam's blood aflame with rage.
"Lesson four. Mess with Dean's little brother, you get shot or worse."
Sam regretted the words the instant he saw the anger in the hunter's face.
Chris jammed the rod into Sam's side and held the button down.
Sam jerked and convulsed, crying out in agony.
"Lesson two and three, Samuel. You will not be disrespectful and you will not talk."
"Go rot in #$%." Sam gasped. I won't give in. This stupid #$^%^ won't win.
The rod was pressed against his side once more.
"You will not be disrespectful and you will not talk, Samuel. Are you done?"
Sam gasped as he finally pulled the rod away, curling up on himself in pain.
"I hope you die slowly and painfully, #$%^."
Winchesters were nothing, if not stubborn.
"You will not be disrespectful and you will not talk!"
Sparks.
Agony.
Cries.
Gasps.
"Go. To. #$%."
"You will not be disrespectful and you will not talk!"
Sparks.
Pain.
Cries.
Whimpers.
Sam muttered a few choice words that his brother probably would have smacked him upside the head for saying...that or grinned and told him he was awesome.
"You will not be disrespectful and you will not talk!"
Sparks.
Pain.
Sparks.
Agony.
Screams.
Darkness.
...
"Time to wake up, Samuel. We aren't done yet."
Sam groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open as he returned to wakefulness.
He immediately wished he hadn't.
The hunter was standing over him, the rod in his hand, held so Sam could see it and remember.
"Let's try this again, shall we? Change to your wolf form."
Sam hesitated and the hunter took a step forward, moving the rod towards him.
Sam felt the power rush through him and there was a shift in the air.
In his place, a white wolf stood, avoiding it's front right paw, but standing taller and stronger than it's human counterpart could, able to push the pain back to ignore.
It was a survival instinct that Sam had taken advantage of more than once in the last few months.
The hunter grinned darkly. "Very good."
Okay. We're getting somewhere.