Wow, I'm touched by all of the great reviews so quickly! Thanks so much, and I hope this was a quick enough update! It's short, I know, but I think its one of the better chapters!
Enjoy!
-:0:-
"What the hell do you mean, gone Dean?" John said angrily, giving his son a glare. It had taken the best part of an hour for the younger man to explain what had happened while his father had been possessed. It seemed it had had still not sunk in that Sam was gone and not coming back. Dean sighed wearily and returned his father's gaze.
"I mean, he thinks that you hate him and that he's a worthless piece of shit." His voice was drained and his eyes drooped from tiredness. He slumped back further into the couch and groaned quietly as his now-cleaned and bandaged wood-free back rubbed against the material of his shirt.
"I am so not doing well today." He moaned to himself, wincing again when John sat down next to him, his head in his hands.
"God, what have I done?" he whispered shakily. His voice was desperate and Dean could have sworn he heard it brake.
"Dad, did you mean what you said about Sammy?" Dean asked in a sceptic voice.
"Wha- No, of course not son, but how is he gonna know that? He's freakin gone and we have no way of finding him!" he cried, frustration taking hold of him.
They lapsed in silence for the next few minutes, with nothing but their occasional sighs of exhaustion keeping them company. Suddenly a thought struck John and he frowned deeply.
"Dean?" he questioned.
"Mmhmm?" came the tired reply.
"What did you say to Sam? I mean, he adores you! He wouldn't have just up and left you." A frown once again graced his features and his eyes were stern.
"Well, I didn't say anything as such." He looked sheepishly at his dad. "I just kinda shook my head when- OH MY GOD, DAD!" he yelped suddenly, causing John to jump and give Dean an uncertain look. "Check whether Sam took his cell with him or not!" he commanded. John stared at him for another few seconds before shrugging and bolting upstairs, feet hammering up the wooden surface.
A few minutes (and several crashes from upstairs) later, heavy footsteps announced John's return, and his face was set into that of a glum look.
"Its gone." He said dejectedly, shaking his head bitterly and staring at the ground.
"That's great!" Dean smiled, his face brightening instantly. "We can track his cell from the computer and find out exactly where he is and haul his scrawny ass back home!" He grinned proudly at his father who smirked at back at him.
"So, we can find Sa-" he was cut off by a sharp trilling that chirped loudly from Dean's direction.
"Speak of the devil." He chuckled heartily to himself.
"Oh my god." Came a whisper from Dean and before John could quiz his sons actions, he had pressed the answer button and was yelling into his phone.
"Sammy, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" he screeched, loud enough to make John grimace.
"Hello Dean." A calm voice answered Dean's yells. "I'm afraid Sam can't come to the phone right now, he's a little tied up." It was rough and harsh, and sounded slightly tipsy.
"What the hell have you done with him?" he roared into the phone. He heard a short bark of laughter.
"There's no need to be like that!" the voice said in mock offence, chuckling loudly. "I just thought that you might like to know where gorgeous little Sammy is." Dean was grinding his teeth to dust as he imagined the smirk on this guy's face.
"I swear to God, if you lay one of your filthy, perverted hands on him then-"
"It's a bit late for that!" the reply snarled "Here, would you like a word?" Dean heard a shuffle, and then suddenly Sam's terrified voice reached his ears.
"H-hey Dean." Sam's voice croaked.
"Sam! Oh God, Sam! I swear we'll come and find you and send that evil bastard to hell! Dad didn't mean what he said, he was possessed! That wasn't him talking! Oh, Sam, DAMN IT!" There was a pause.
"Wasn't him?" Sam whispered, tears cascading down his cheeks.
"NO! Sam, tell me where you-" Dean was cut off, and he heard a muffled yell from Sam.
"Ok, you've had your time." growled the first voice in his ear. "Now here's the deal. You don't come looking for Sam, and he lives. You do look for him, and his head will be decapitated from the rest of him! So, we have a deal?" he spat down the line.
"Ok, let's change that a bit." Dean began to argue, "You give us Sammy and we send your ass to hell. Now, how does that sound?" he growled fiercely.
Suddenly, there was a cry a pain, accompanied by a scream.
"DEAN!"
"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY BROTHER, NOW, YOU SON-OF-A BITCH!" Dean yelled desperately back.
"You have 48 hours." The voice said simply.
"I-" Dean was cut off by a blank dial tone. "Shit!" he screamed, throwing the phone hard at the floor.
"Dean, what the hell happened to Sam? Who was that?" John said calmly, staring pointedly at him.
"Dean?"
-:0:-
An hour earlier.
Sam groaned and screwed up his face, raising a hand to his pounding head. His arm felt heavy and a loud scraping assaulted his ears as he moved.
He tried to open his eyes, but immediately groaned again as the sun that was streaming through a gap in two pieces of wood that boarded up a window, hit his face.
He was laying flat on the floor in a small, dingy room.
He grunted and placed the palms of each hand against the rotten floor boards and pushed himself into a sitting position. Looking down at himself, he noticed large, think metal chains wrapped tightly around both his wrists and the same with his ankles. He frowned and followed where they went with his eyes.
They led across the floor, and over to the wall on his right. There was a large metal plate that was around half way up it, and the chains were looped round a large hook that had been moulded back round and melted, to form a C shape.
He cringed and sighed. Once again he had gotten himself into trouble and the only way for him to get out was by Dean and his Dad coming to his rescue.
Once again, he had let his guard drop and gotten himself kidnapped.
He seemed to have a special talent for it. He rolled his eyes at the thought and shivered as a cold breeze blew into the room and made goose-bumps erupt on his arms.
His face felt stiff in the delicate wind and he frowned, reaching up to his lip. He hissed and pulled his finger away and when he looked at it, it was smeared in blood. He groaned and moved his fingers to his cheek, where a large gash ran from his eye down to his jaw bone.
"Aww crap, what the hell am I gonna do now?"
TBC