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"You've reached Singer Salvage, if you need some help just leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."
"Hey Bobby, this is Cole from North Grove. We caught a couple of monsters and the town decided that we should bring some professionals in to make sure they're gotten rid of correctly. Do you have some time to come down and take care of this? They're very dangerous, so maybe backup would be a good idea. Thanks, man."
Bobby listened to the message, brows furrowing with thought.
That was...vague...and rather cryptic.
He didn't have a good feeling about this.
Maybe some backup would be a good idea.
Picking up the phone, he dialed his friend's number.
...
"Bobby? Haven't heard from you in a while."
Dean looked up at the words.
Maybe Bobby has a hunt for us.
"Yeah, John, it's me. I just got a message from an old friend and they have a couple of creatures that they need us to take care of. They say they've trapped them, didn't say what they are. I got a bad feeling about this one. You and Dean free?"
Dean didn't like the brief, almost hidden, concern that flashed across his father's face.
"Sure, Bobby, just got done with a hunt. We're about a day away from you."
"Okay, once you get here it's another day or two to North Grove, where my friend is. He ain't answering his phone, so I'm guessing we'd better hurry."
"Alright."
John hung up.
"What's up?"
"Bobby wants backup on a hunt. Let's get going."
...
Sam had lost track of the hours they had been in here.
The time passed slowly, moving by in a crawl of pain and suffering.
"Mom, do you think they're gonna bring food in soon?"
It felt like forever since he had eaten.
He felt his mom's hand brush the hair away from his face, tenderly.
"I don't know honey. I'll ask the next time someone comes near."
Sam curled up on the ground next to his mom, his stomach rumbling, his wrists aching.
He had never hurt so much in his life.
I just want to go home.
"Hey!" his mom's shout startled him. "You could at least give us some food!" She sounded angry, frightened. "Sam's just a kid, you really going to starve him?"
A laugh from outside the shed. "You think we're going to feed you? Monsters don't need food!"
"We're not monsters. If anything, you people are monsters for torturing an eleven year old child!"
It was the wrong thing to say.
In a flurry of activity, the door was thrown open and Sam felt arms wrap around him, tossing him roughly into the wall.
"Torturing? You haven't seen anything yet. Your little brat is an abomination."
Kearn's face split into a fierce snarl, as he kicked out at Sam's curled body, pulling a cry from the child.
"No!"
"You think I'm a monster now, Cara?"
Another kick, a cry.
"No, don't! Don't hurt him!"
A rougher kick, a sob from Sam.
"Please! Please, Kearn, don't hurt him!"
With a final kick, Kearn turned from Sam and looked at Cara.
"I'd watch your tongue, woman. You'll find I can do much worse to you and yours than what you can do to me."
The second the door closed behind their attacker, Cara moved desperately forward, pulling Sam into her arms, wincing at the whimper Sam made at the movement.
"Hey. Hey, Sam, you okay?" she worked hard to hide the fear in her voice.
Sam shook his head and buried himself in her arms, sobs wracking his small frame.
"It'll be okay, honey. Shh, you'll be okay."
...
Hours passed in silence except for Sam's shuddering sobs and whimpers, unwilling to leave his mother's arms.
The quiet from outside was shattered by drunken laughter and Cara felt her heart drop into her toes.
Oh please no. Please don't.
Sam had apparently heard the noise as well, his shaking worsening.
"Momma?"
Cara tightened her hold at the word that Sam hadn't used in years.
"It's okay, Sam." What else could she say? She had never felt so helpless.
Sam flinched as the door swung open and two men came in.
He was quickly grabbed, pulled roughly from his mother's arms.
"Mom!"
"Sam! Let him go! Haven't you done enough!"
The harsh sound of flesh hitting flesh had Sam fighting against his captors holds.
"MOM! No! Don't touch her!"
A harsh blow to the stomach, then to the face had him flinching back, whimpering in pain as blows continued to rain down on him and his mother.
Pain, blood, and cries were finally replaced by silence.
"They've had enough. Leave him here. Let 'em stew while we wait for Cole's friends to show up."
The door slammed closed.
"Sam?" The weak whisper penetrated the darkness, but was met only by silence.
"Sam, honey? Can you hear me?"
A slight moan had her heart fluttering in her chest, fear for her baby boy too strong for her to fight. She crawled forward, ignoring her own injuries until her hand hit something warm, wet with blood, and moving.
The form flinched violently away.
Oh Sam.
Even if they survived this, her boy was clearly traumatized. Would he ever be the same?
"It's just me, baby. It's your mom."
Cara gently scooped her son into her arms again and swore she would never let go again.
I'm so sorry.
The sound of wrenching sobs filled the small shed and this time, Cara wasn't sure she had any comforting words to share.
But she would never let Sam know that.
"It's gonna end soon, Sam. It'll be okay."
It has to end soon.
Her son didn't answer her, gasping with pain between each sob, form shaking with pain and shock.
How badly injured is he?
Her own body hurt incredibly, but she knew they were rougher on Sam. She didn't understand how the townspeople could turn on sweet, naive, gentle Sam, but they had.
What will kill us first? Pain? Shock? Blood loss? Hunger, thirst?
"It's okay, Sam."
Cara didn't believe it, but if she could give him nothing else, she would her son give comfort.
