A/N: Thank you LilyBolt, kjdw, mb64, and deanstheman for your reviews! And thanks to everyone favoriting, following, or just reading this story. And as always, I don't own Supernatural. All rights reserved.
Chapter 7
Sam stared at the image on his phone, hands shaking. The image of Dean, weak, seemingly helpless, threatening to break... for a moment, he almost felt the urge to wretch again. This could not be the same man who faced supernatural crap on a seemingly daily basis, who stood his ground against Lucifer himself. Sam was aware that images could be deceiving, and that there was no way his brother would just give up that easily. He was Dean Winchester, after all. The though provided small comfort, however, the sight of his sibling beaten, tortured, boring into his skull, agonizing, twisting at his thoughts. "God, Dean," he moaned, finally tearing his eyes from the screen. He couldn't look at Dean in this condition, at least not now. Logically Sam knew that this photo was the only evidence he had so far in regards to his brother's abduction, and could be a vital clue to his whereabouts, but now, it only served as a grim reminder of how he had failed him yet again. Once again, the selfish desire to contact Cas, regardless of his new found human status, nearly overwhelmed him. But he couldn't put his friend in danger; and Dean would kill him for doing so: Cas was family, no matter how badly he had screwed up in the past. And Sam knew a thing or two about making seemingly irreparable mistakes.
For this one, Sam was on his own.
Sam's thoughts were interrupted when his phone buzzed again. Dreading what he might see, he accepted the new message, swallowing the bile forming from beneath his throat. Sure enough, the sender had sent yet another message, this time (thank God) image free. Three simple words, yet they chilled Sam to the core: Ain't this fun?
"You sick fuck," Sam hissed, repulsed. Disgusted, Sam tossed the cell onto his bed, the phone landing with a gentle thud on the bedspread. For a few minutes, he indulged in anger and fear, pacing along the tiny room in search of something, anything, to save Dean. And then, he suddenly froze in mid pace, heart pounding in his chest. He had forgotten about the best clue he had so far. "Dean's phone," he breathed, reaching for his neglected device. Earlier, at the moment of Dean's disappearance, Sam had relied on the GPS to find Dean's phone. But, being a hunter (and a Winchester, at that) the man had several back up cells in case of emergency. He must have been carrying one on him, and his captor had found it. Or, if not, the IP address would pinpoint to the abductor. Sure enough, the email had been sent from Dean's back up phone.
"Thank God," Sam murmured, activating the GPS. For once, the dreaded Winchester luck was seemingly on his side. At least for the time being. Impatiently he waited for the signal to catch, praying that the battery life on the phone was at least half. For a moment, there was nothing,and Sam began to wonder if his plan would even work. And then, faint, a beep coming from the phone. Dean's phone was somewhere to the North-East of the province, along the edge of a relatively vast woodland area. Makes sense. Of course Dean would be taken someplace reclusive. Fortunately for the youngest Winchester, the province was small; it would take maybe an hour or so to reach the phone (and, hopefully, Dean). Sam could only pray that the had an hour.
"Hang on, Dean," Sam muttered, racing to the Impala.
XXX
Missy stared at the phone, the little bar on the corner rapidly diminishing. She had never had, or even actually seen a smartphone before, but knew enough about electronics enough to know that the battery life was next to nothing. Another half hour, maybe, and she didn't have any way to charge it. Not that it really mattered. Perhaps she couldn't send anymore pictures to the brother,but Missy Bender knew that he was coming. And what better way to trap the brother? Smiling to herself, Missy left the kitchen, phone in hand, and climbed into Jared's old pick up.
XXX
The phone was somewhere off Baltic Road. Eyes focused, heart racing, Sam steered the Impala to its destination. To Dean.
XXX
Dean could hear the crunch of tires on gravel even from his underground prison. He cringed as the sound grew fainter in the distance, eventually disappearing entirely. Dean felt his heart sinking. Those goddamned Benders had never left in the five days he'd been here, and suddenly they were out for a joy ride? Sam was close. He had to be. And it was too easy. Sam was a brilliant hunter, one of the smartest, but it should've taken him at least another four days or so to find him. PEI was small, but not that small. It was obvious that the bitch was setting a trap for his brother. And Dean knew damn well that Sammy would fall for it.
Because if the roles were reversed, Dean would have done the same thing.
"If you hurt my brother I'm going to fucking KILL YOU!"
XXX
The trap was set. Missy smiled to herself as she climbed back into the beaten Ford, the nearly dead phone lying abandoned on the side of the road. This was going to be fun.
XXX
Once more the door opened, the bright light sensitive, blinding Dean. He winced in pain, shivering despite himself. Sam was coming, and while it gave him slight hope that he would kill the bitch and get him out of here, he knew that in all likelihood, his younger brother would be placed in a cell beside him. Despite himself, a single tear threatened to spill, but Dean quickly blinked them back. He couldn't give up. Not after everything his father had taught him. Not after everything he had taught Sam. And so Dean Winchester put on one of his toughest faces, pure hatred radiating from mossy eyes. A moment later, Missy appeared from the shadows, a malevolent smile spreading across her face.
"Guess who's comin' for supper?" she chirped, one finger sliding carelessly along a steel bar. "My daddy said it ain't polite to not have neighbours for supper. An' I reckon a nice little fellow's on his way right now."
"Don't you dare lay a finger on him."
"Now, now, that wasn't polite," Missy singsonged, her smile widening. "Daddy told me to always be polite to your host." She stared coldly through the bars, pulling out her set of keys. "That'll cost ya. Boys!" The last yelled, and a moment later, two larger men, dressed in torn jeans and dirty t-shirts made their way downstairs, each armed with a heavy bat. Dean winced, bracing himself for the inevitable pain. "That'll teach you from being rude to a lady," Missy sneered, opening the doors to Dean's cell wide.
XXX
The Impala skidded to a stop on the shoulder of the highway, along the end of a narrow, rutted driveway leading into the forest. Without hesitation, Sam dashed from the car, desperately searching for the phone. Above, the heavens threatened to downpour, the low rumble of thunder echoing in the distance. He had to find the phone before the rain.
It didn't take long. Dean's abandoned phone lay on the gravelled shoulder, beeping faintly, reminding its owner to connect to a charger immediately. As Sam reached for the nearly dead device, an feeling of unease threatened to stop him in his tracks. This was all too easy: the texts; connecting the dots on finding the IP address; the GPS on the phone which happened to conveniently be losing its battery only now. This was a perfect set up, the clear signs of a trap.
"I lost my brother, Dean, a few months ago. It felt like my world imploded and came raining down on me, and...I ran."
"Not this time." Trap or no trap, there was no way Sam Winchester was going to abandon his brother again. He was well aware of the repercussions; if he was lucky, Dean would be more than pissed at his recklessness; and if he wasn't, one, or both of them, would be dead. But it was a risk he had to take. Determined, Sam picked up the abandoned phone, heading for the trunk of the Impala. He still had no clue what he was up against; he had a feeling that he would be facing humans, but a hunter had to always be prepared. Quickly Sam grabbed his Taurus, armed with both salt and live rounds, Ruby's knife carefully tucked beneath his belt, and made his way along the lonely drive. The walking was rough, the narrow passage overgrown and riddled with wide ruts, and Sam had to be careful to avoid twisting or spraining an ankle. Fortunately, after five minutes, the driveway smoothed into a gravel packed lane, and walking was significantly easier. Careful to avoid any sign of detection, Sam eased off the driveway and into the woodland, eyes peeled for any sign of activity, supernatural or otherwise. Tire tracks lead along the way, ensuring Sam that he was at least on the right track.
After another few minutes of walking, the tree line finally broke, revealing a dilapidated farmhouse, standing almost proud beyond an open field, littered with abandoned cars.
Hibbing, Minnesota. The monster with the rumbling growl... locked in a cage in the basement of an abandoned farmhouse.
"Shit." Sam felt his knees buckle slightly beneath him. It had happened seven years ago, but suddenly it seemed like just yesterday. He closed his eyes, repulsed by the memory. A memory of humans being hunted like dogs, their pictures hung like trophies on the wall; of abandoned cars riddling the yard, reminders of previous owners long gone; of his brother, tied to a chair, a hot poker aimed at his throat by a young, deranged girl...
For the second time in his life, Sam Winchester was about to be face to face with a Bender.