Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell

The Road So Far:

"Who I am?", the man asked, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Your savior, hunter.", he said and let his eyes morph into obsidian.

Sam Campbell's eyes widened in an instant. Horror, fear and anger crossing his features with a mix of confusion.

"Demon.", he hissed through gritted teeth.

Dean's eyes morphed back to normal and he tilted his head to the side. "Now that you know who I am and I know who you are ... What about gettin' the show on the road, huh?"

Sam's eyes widened. He was screwed. SO SCREWED.

Chapter 4 ~ So You Know

Dean Winchester hadn't been surprised about the hunter's reaction. He would've rather be surprised if he hadn't completely freaked out ... he knew about the man's reputation among hunters and demons and all the other scum.

So he wasn't surprised either, that Sam spit the tomato soup right back into his face after he had made him swallow half of the mug in one go. Nope, he wasn't surprised. He was pissed.

Such an unthankful brat.

"You know what?", Dean asked, his voice cold, the muscles in his yaw working as tomato-soup dripped from his chin. "That's it. - No food for you for the rest of the day."

Instead of instantly leaving, he walked around the bed to the other side of the bed and got the second pair of cuffs from the nightstand.

"No.", Sam Campbell hissed and did everything, so that the demon wouldn't get his free arm that easy. Though he failed, blaming his weakened state for it. "No ... don't.", he said through gritted teeth.

"Nah, nah, nah ..." Dean had to struggle, to catch the flying limb in midair. This wasn't about strength ... The guy's arms and legs were like the tentacles of an octopus, all lanky and sneaky. This bastard. "We want to be nice to each other, won't we?" The demon panted.

"Get off!", Sam's voice was stronger, spurt on by the near threat. "GET OFF! You son of a bitch!"

Dean finally managed to get a hold of his arm and fix him back at the headboard of the bed. "Always with the empty promises, Sammy."

"My name's SAM!", the hunter called after the black-eyed man, as he left the room without looking back at him again. Instead the demon chuckled devilish and closed the door behind him, leaving the hunter on his own.

Sam tore on the cuffs, bruising his wrists in the process, until his strength left him and darkness took over again.

Dean had turned the volume up, so that he wouldn't have to listen to the rants of the hunter in the room next door. It hadn't taken a long time until Sam Campbell had been back under the conscious and had started to yell again.

Though, watching TV with having someone screaming in the background wasn't that satisfying. Nor it was fun (no matter how amusing the demon had thought it was in the beginning). At least not when a show was on, the demon was actually interested in. Okay, maybe not interested, but miraculously he had gotten hooked on that movie.

A vamp and a were fighting over a human girl – ridiculous. Obviously someone hadn't gotten the full image of standing in between the fronts. Vampires weren't like this – nor were werewolves. The vamp would suck the chick dry in no-time and leave the corpse to the wolf (maybe).

Then again ... wouldn't that be necrophilia? A shiver ran down Dean's spine and his face screwed up in disgust. "Ewww ...", he muttered and shook his head. That's not where he wanted his thoughts to go.

He was still waiting for the part with the porn ... though, a slight feeling rose inside of him, that there wouldn't be any porn at all ...

Suddenly there was silence from the other room. So abrupt, it startled the demon a bit. He frowned.

More silence.

His frown deepened.

With a "Damn it." he rose from the couch and stomped into the bedroom, where a panting hunter laid on the bed completely exhausted and drained.

"Need to take a leak.", Sam muttered embarrassed.

The demon cocked an eyebrow, but nodded. "You try shit, I'm gonna make you regret it.", he said in a warning tone. "Got it?"

Sam nodded and sniffed, not meeting the man's look.

"Good." Dean took the keys of the cuffs from the back-pocket of his jeans and opened the ones that were fixing Sam's left wrist to the headboard. But instead of removing them completely, he attached the loosen end to the ones on Sam's right wrist, before he opened the other ones.

Sam watched the demon stuffing the keys back into the pocket of his jeans and memorized it for later use. His instincts yelled at him to flee, to get out of there. Though, he knew that it was stupid. He was too weak. Besides, he didn't even know where he was.

From the looks of it he was in a cabin and he hadn't heard any traffic. So he had to be somewhere in the woods.

The man would have him, before he'd even get out of the damn door ...

Dean stepped back, tipping with one foot onto the floor. "What are you waiting for?"

Sam lowered his aching arms slowly. Moving with bound hands and an injury like that, he was pretty much hurting. Hell, he couldn't even roll over to his side, as he had to notice.

On top of all that, he was still naked under the covers. He looked up at the demon. "I don't have any clothes on ..."

"Ain't the first time I saw someone bareass-naked, bitch. Now move, or I'll make ya'."

So – after what seemed like an eternity – Sam managed to get his feet out of the bed and sit up. Sam sat there for a while, feeling the stitches in his chest tear on his skin. The air was chilly against his bare torso and legs after a while and it wondered if it truly was cold in the house, or if it was because of the circumstances.

Sam pulled the sheets over his lap to save the bit of dignity he had left.

"I don't have all day.", Dean said impatiently.

"I ... I can't ...", Sam huffed out silently. This was beyond humiliating.

He could barely feel his legs, nor his hands or arms. Everything seemed dislocated from his body.

With an annoyed sigh, Dean took a step closer and shoved his arm under Sam's left armpit and hauled him to his feet.

Sam yelped surprised at the sudden change of position, his head growing all dizzy again. He felt his knees buckle and giving in, but there was another strong hand out of nowhere, gripping him tight. The hunter clung to the thin sheet around his hips, holding it in place.

"Let's get this over with.", Dean said coldly and started to drag the man towards the bathroom, which was right behind the door on the opposite wall.

Sam tried to keep the man's pace and allowed himself to lean onto him a bit more.

God, his bladder was about to burst.

The demon shoved him into the bathroom and sat him onto the bowl. Again he took a step back, never leaving his gaze from the hunter.

Sam stole a glance at the man, who stood just three feet away from him. The hunter cleared his throat. "I can't when you're in the same room ..."

"Pussy.", he growled.

Sam gave him a glare.

The demon rolled with his eyes in disbelieve. "Fine ... ain't as if you'll be able to flee anyway.", he muttered and turned around to leave the hunter to his business. "You've five minutes." And then he was gone – for exactly five minutes.

When the demon came back in, Sam was sweating furiously, clutching at the sheet that was now covering his body from this shoulders downwards. Dean slid with his arm under the man's armpit and pulled him to his feet.

The hunter swayed, holding onto the sheet to take care that it wouldn't slide down and reveal his bare ass. Without a further word, the demon pulled the taller man with him, back to the bed and let him sit down on it.

Dean Winchester stepped back, waiting for the man to get back in the bed.

But Sam didn't do anything about it. He just sat there, sweating and panting and looking utterly exhausted.

"Back in.", the demon commanded.

Sam huffed out a breath. "What do you even want form me?", he asked silently, as he looked through long bangs at the monster.

"I'm gonna tell ya' soon enough.", Dean answered gruffly. "You get in by yourself?"

Humans were beyond annoying, as this case proofed all over again.

Sam glanced up at him through his bangs, a row of emotions crossing his face. From anger and fury over fear and despair to rebellion. "I won't do it. - Whatever you want from me. I won't and you can't make me, bastard."

Dean chuckled, an amused smirk building on his face. "Sure. - Let's see about that, Sammy." He bowed down, grabbed Sam's legs by the ankles and threw his legs on the bed.

With a strangled gasp, Sam fell back, the skin on his stitches tearing.

The next moment Dean was beside him, getting the chain wich connected the cuffs and opened one of them to fixate him back on the headboard. Though Sam couldn't help himself and he struggled against the vice grip the man had on him.

The hunter gave a final yank at the cuffs, when he was chained to the headboard. "It's SAM.", the hunter insisted stubbornly, glaring at the monster above him. "No one gets to call me otherwise."

"Lets see about that too." The demon chuckled and got back on his feet. "Oh ... by the way ..:", he started in a casual way, "I laid a spell on you while you were out. You try to leave the house, you're dead." He gave the hunter a mischievous grin. "Just so you know."

Sam snarled at him, his glare got even more glaring. "Fuck you too, bitch!"

Again the demon chuckled. "Ain't me the one who's the bitch here.", he gave back unimpressed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Five days later ...

Besides his occasional trips to the bathroom to take care of his business and to get cleaned up, Sam was mostly cuffed to the bed. - Enough time to get up with a plan.

Somehow he had to get the demon to leave the cuffs off of him. He had to gain a little trust ... try to convince the guy, that he wouldn't be any threat ... since he was cursed with a spell and bound to the house (if it hadn't been a lie. - Though he'd find out soon enough.).

Sam Campbell still played the badly hurt hunter, even when he felt a lot better by now. Besides the cockiness and the rough behaviour of the demon, the guy did a good job on the wounds. They were healing nicely and soon the stitches would have to come out.

Besides that, he had thought about the demon's intentions and what he had captured him for. It wasn't as if he was THAT special. Okay, he had killed a whole lot of demons and monsters in the past and sure as hell a lot of the black-eyed bitches were after him ... Maybe this one wanted to sell him to another one or bring him to his boss. But why waiting anyway?

God knew how long they were in the cabin already. Hell – he had no clue. It could've been weeks or just days.

Sam couldn't bother less. The only thought he had in his mind was to get out of there – BEFORE the demon would decide what to do with him – if he hadn't already.

The hunter got torn away from his thoughts, as the door to the bedroom opened. The demon appeared with a mug in his left hand and a bundle of fabric in his right one.

Sam followed his very move warily, until he stood beside the bed. The hunter glanced up at his foe curiously, his lips a tight line.

"Breakfast.", Dean said, placing the mug on the nightstand. He didn't bother to look at the hunter. "Clothes.", He dropped the bundle of fabric beside him on the bed.

Was Sam supposed to be thankful? Nope, he definitely wasn't. The guy held him captured and locked down on this bed. There was no reason for him to be grateful. No way in hell.

Sam noticed, that the man looked pissed today. No sly smirk, no cocky remark ... The hunter frowned at him. It nearly looked as something was making the demon SAD (if he didn't know better).

And for a split second he felt himself tempted to ask if he was okay.

A demon. Demons were twisted bastards. Demons didn't feel sad, or worried, or desperate (except it was about sex or something else they wanted to own). Demons were evil sons of bitches. Bloodthirsty. Cruel. Cold. They didn't respect anything or anyone.

Sam kept quiet, just watching the man, as he bowed over him and fumbled for the keys in his pocket. Dean then gripped the handcuffs and removed them from the headboard. This time he didn't cuff them together. Instead he stuffed the key back into his jeans and turned around.

Again he didn't look at the human.

Sam was utterly confused. Slowly – never leaving the demon out under his watch since this could be a trap – he lowered his aching arms and hands and rubbed at his left shoulder. He watched the demon leave the room and close the door behind him.

This time he locked it.

Sam Campbell sat up slowly and winced. His chest still hurt occasionally, when he made a wrong move. Though, he managed to sit up at the edge of the bed.

Tentatively he reached for the fabric on the other half of the bed and pulled it closer. The bundle revealed boxers, sweat-pants and an oversized hoodie.

Better than nothing anyway. Better than being all naked ...

Then, Sam reached for the mug on the nightstand and took it. He sniffed on the red goo inside and his nose screwed up in disgust. Though he was starving, since his last mug of tomato-soup had been the day before, and emptied it in one fast go.

Disgusted and with a full body-shake, he put the mug aside again and got to his feet to get his business done. Now that his hands weren't bound anymore he could – high likely – take a shower. Maybe there was still enough hot water.

He'd give everything for ten minutes under a stream of steaming hot water ...

Sam had been right. There was hot water. Though there were no towels. After a long moment of thinking, and after the chilly air against his wet skin, he simply pulled his clothes back on.

There was no way in hell he'd call for that bastard to get him something so he could dry himself off. He'd rather die of pneumonia.

Dean heard the shower go off and sighed heavily.

Since a couple of days without sleep he had decided that it had been about time to get himself some rest.

What a bad idea, actually.

All he had been doing was dreaming. Dreaming about his father ... his brother ... the way they died brutally by the hands of YED. This was about the only thing that was capable of making him feel bad. The death of his family. And the fact that Azazel – the yellow eyed demon – was still out there and waiting for him to snap or to come back to him.

Something that'd never happen. Not after what that bastard had done to his beloved family. Okay, his father hadn't been the nicest person towards him, ever since he saw those black eyes in the little boy's face. John had been a hunter. A damn good hunter. And a crappy parent.

Dean knew that John had just been John. And after trying to cut the darkness out of him, exorcise him and bath him in holy water, John had surrendered and had finally seen that his son was what he was. That those black eyes didn't make him any different than he had been before. Because Dean had been born that way.

Dean Winchester had always been a little brat. Ever since e had been born. He was all cocky and self-conscious. He was him. And there was nothing wrong about it. Had never been.

Until the day, he turned sixteen ... that was the time he HAD started to change.

The thing that had changed Dean Winchester, the one thing that had made him cold as stone, were the deaths of John and his little brother Adam. THIS had changed him, and nothing else. Past then – after he had watched YED tearing them apart and taking Dean with him – he had decided that feelings were overrated.

After he had seen the demon killing innocent people ... after he wanted Dean to do the same ... He just couldn't.

Because all he had ever wanted was to be normal. No extra cool set of eyes and demon-mojo. That had been back then.

Now he had accepted what he was and had learned to deal with his powers and everything. Dean had let himself drift into the darker areas of his character the more years got in between the death's of his family and today.

He actually couldn't recall why ... how he wouldn't care about a bleeding-to-death guy on the side of the road. He didn't know why he wasn't bothered by young boys pulling pranks on old ladies out on the streets.

He knew back then – before YED had taken him – he would've beaten the hell out of those brats.

So ... here he was.

In a cabin in the woods. A human hunter locked down in the bedroom – appearently one of fewer people who'd be able to wash his soul clean.

All of a sudden he wasn't sure anymore if he truly wanted his soul to be all shiny white. He'd lose a lot of power ... and being just human didn't sound as good. He would have to get a job, an apartment or a house ... all these things humans used to do ... Dean didn't know if he wanted that. But he knew that he didn't want this dark gaping pit in his stomach ... he didn't want to feel the anger and rage burn deep inside him day for day. He didn't want to let this anger and rage become mightier than it was already ...

He didn't like the way this darkness felt. He didn't like to lose control over things. So he'd prefer to cleanse his soul and leave the whole shit behind.

Dean Winchester needed to become human for his and the world's sake. The only things was, he didn't know if he should be going to sacrifice another humans – a GOOD human's – soul for his own. Okay, the spell Missy had given him sounded pretty good ... though ... getting the hunter to LIKE him – a demon – sounded not just impossible ... it was ridiculous.

Neither helping a demon with a ritual where the hunter would take an important part in and do it because he wanted to, was close to unearthly.

After the shower he was done ... beyond done ... Sam hadn't thought that something simple like taking a shower could be that draining. - Okay, he knew it, since he have had some pretty bad injuries ... but then again ...

He sighed.

For a long moment he wondered when the demon would come back and cuff him to the bed AGAIN. The man didn't seem stupid enough to leave him like that ... all unbound and running free, even when it was just the bedroom. The demon surely knew, that picking a lock with nothing but a splinter of wood wasn't a lot of a problem for the hunter.

Sam sighed and rubbed over his face, before he crawled back into the bed and sprawled out on it, his long arms to the left and right of him. It felt amazing to move his upper limps freely for longer than ten minutes.

He let his eye-lids fall shut, planning on thinking about a proper plan of how to get through the woods and into the next best town to call Bobby Singer. A mechanic and ex-hunter he hadn't seen in some years. Though he was the only person who could probably help him out at the moment.

Sam wondered if the grizzled former hunter would even remember him ...

That was something he could deal with later anyway. First off he needed to escape and check out if he was truly hexed. And there was just one way to find out ...

With that thoughts cruising through his mind, Sam drifted off to sleep within minutes as fatigue and exhaustion overwhelmed him.

Dean Winchester sat for some more time on the couch, thinking about how he'd be able to gain the hunter's trust. Okay, trust was the wrong word. He needed the hunter to think that he could trust him ... or at least doubt him less enough to do the ritual with him ...

With a heavy sigh, the demon rose from the couch and marched over to the bedroom-door, which he unlocked. He entered and his gaze fell immediately at the sprawled out form on the bed.

Dean stopped in his tracks and his forehead furrowed about the weird feeling that was growing in his tummy. So warm and comfortable ... and so not demon-like. As fast as he realized that this wasn't something he wanted to feel, he shook it off again and walked over to the nightstand to get the mug.

When he stood beside the sleeping form he noticed the soaked wet fabric of Sam Campbell's clothes and pulled a grimace. He had forgotten about the towels, hadn't he?

Wow ... the guy hadn't even demanded to get towels at all ... He could've called for him or something ... But nope ... Nothing but Campbell's pride all the way ...

Seemed like the hunter was at least as stubborn as he himself was.

Dean thought for a moment about cuffing the man back to the bed. But then – if he got the guy right – it wouldn't do any good to the relationship he wanted to grow between the both of them ... at least until the next new moon.

After that it wouldn't matter anymore anyway.

... to be continued

Somehow I'm not satisfied with this chapter. I read over it over & over again ... * sigh *