Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural
A/N: Thanks so much to my beta AlElizabeth
Sam opened his eyes. Or at least he thought he had opened his eyes, but he still couldn't see. He tried to move his hand to see if he could see it move, only to find he couldn't. He jerked it harder and found his arms, both of them, secured to something. He used his other hand to feel his hand and found that there were cuffs on his hands and a chain leading to the wall. He was chained to a wall! That was so not good. He jerked forward, testing the strength of the chain a few times but it wasn't going to be giving in any time soon.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, looking around the room trying to see if Dean was with him in the room. "Dean!" he yelled again louder, with still no response. He forced himself to calm down, as panicking wouldn't help anything. He looked around the room slower and more thoroughly, trying to see if his eyes would adjust and he could see something. After several minutes all he could see were vague outlines. He jerked harshly on his chains a few times in frustration, but all that gave him were sore wrists. Where was Dean? Was he in the same room but unconscious? Was he in a different room? Why wasn't he calling for him as well? What if he was hurt? What if he was dead? No, Dean couldn't be dead; he refused to think about that.
What had taken him? Where was he? Sam tried to move his hand downward to grab at the knife he had kept in his ankle holster, only to realize his hands were also cuffed to each other, only leaving an inch between them and they were chained behind his back, and he couldn't even see his shoes in front of him in the dark. All of this amounted to absolutely nothing good. Despite that Sam was pretty sure it would only give him sore wrist found himself struggling trying to get the chains off for a minutes before he gave up again.
Maybe it hadn't gotten Dean. Dean had always been the stronger of the two of them and Sam was much more likely to get captured than Dean was. So maybe he couldn't hear Dean because Dean had managed to escape? If that was true then all he had to was wait for Dean to come to him and rescue him. Sam made a face. How was it that it was always Dean rescuing him? He shook his head, it didn't matter, all that mattered was that maybe Dean was out there and if so Dean would get him out here. Sam was filled with hope for all of five seconds before the dread came back. He was apparently still in the same town they had been in, either that or Lucifer really was causing all of this and it would stay with him wherever he went. That was what Sam had told himself. That was what made sense. Sam closed his eyes and lamented that it didn't really make a difference on whether or not his eyes were opened or closed, he could see just as well.
However while his eyes were closed he did see something.
Dean, about twelve years old, was standing in front of Sam, looking at him worriedly.
Sam opened his eyes and shook his head. Weird, that was a strange image. He stared at the distance directly in front of him without blinking hoping to let his eyes get adjusted to the dark even though it hadn't really worked last time. He blinked and twelve-year old Dean was back, looking worriedly at him. Sam opened his eyes, and kept them open not even allowing himself to blink.
Had whomever kidnapped him given him something? Some kind of hallucinogen that was making him see weird stuff? Sam didn't feel any different, well he felt cold, but that was probably because he was in a room that was dark and dank, like a basement. However his mind didn't feel impaired in any way. Sam didn't blink this time when his mind saw something that wasn't there. He saw a kid, a little kid, not any older than six or seven and he was looking at Sam. Sam blinked and the kid went away. Sam huffed in frustration; he hated this, Lucifer screwing with his head again but in a new way. He didn't understand this though unless it was Lucifer's intent was to make him frustrated and scared. Actually, it made a little sense. He sighed, he had to wait and hope for Dean to rescue him. While he did so he would just have to deal with weird flashes and an intense feeling of terror, all coming from his least favorite person that wasn't even real as he was in his own head.
His eyes again focused another vision; it was Dean again but instead of looking worried, he looked angry. Sam frowned at Dean's younger self faded into the darkness of the shadowy room. That one felt familiar though, more like it was a memory, but Sam couldn't quite remember exactly what had been behind it. Why had Dean been angry with him? Dean had been angry a lot of times at him like when Sam didn't listen to him, got himself into trouble or got himself hurt. It was usually Dean's first reaction, then it dissolved into hugging or Dean telling him how worried he had been about him.
Still there was something niggling at the back of his mind something that he was forgetting. Something that he didn't want to know. Sam could feel it, he didn't want to know what it was, but the feeling of terror intensified. There was something wrong, something wrong with this town, something wrong with him, there was something wrong if only he could remember what it was? However, at the same time he didn't want to know what it was that was so wrong, so flawed. He shivered as the cold in the basement seemed to intensify. The concrete floor he was sitting on seemed to drop to freezing and then Sam heard something. His eyes darted around in the dark trying to see what was moving and where it was moving to but it was too dark, and that made the whole thing that much more terrifying. He was a hunter, he shouldn't be so scared, he had never been this scared before in a long time and he had no idea why he was so scared.
There were footsteps that sounded like they were descending a pair of old wooden stairs, since he was in a basement that wasn't a difficult leap. The footsteps paused, from what seemed like ten feet away from him. Then after several moments the footsteps slowly continued down the stairs, very slowly; Sam becoming more and more scared the closer the creature crept.
He closed his eyes. He was a hunter. He wasn't a kid. He wasn't afraid of the monsters in his closet. He hunted the monsters down and destroyed them. Why was he so scared? His heart was pounding frantically against his ribs like it wanted to escape away from whatever was coming and the rest of his body wanted to go with it, but he still didn't understand.
The footsteps stopped about a foot or two away from him and Sam jerked the restraints harshly, every instinct in his body screamed at him to run away, to get away. However, chained as he was he couldn't go anywhere and the fear didn't dissipate whatsoever. There was a sudden click and the basement lit up. There was a clown standing in front of him. A very familiar clown, Sam couldn't put his finger on exactly when or where he had ever seen him before. The clown had orange hair that stuck in the way that clown hair tended to do. His eyes were blue and his face paint was white except around the eyes, which were blue, making them larger, and around the mouth which was red. Sam suddenly knew it wasn't Lucifer who was doing this to him, but the clown. The scariest clown he had ever seen. A clown that made all the other clowns seem...he broke off his train of thought as his body was trembling in fear. This was the something that was wrong with the town...he knew it he didn't know how he knew it, but he knew it. This clown was not a good clown, he knew that instinctively.
"Hiya Sam, long time no see," the clown said with a wicked smile on its face and once it spoke, even though it seemed impossible, Sam's fear level increased again.
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