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I have put Sam and Dean in my Safe Deposit Box. Ronald, suspecting this, broke in to the bank to try and snatch it before the Mandroid got it. "Hi Ronald…."
I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one, it means the world!
Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!
Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.
Someone gave me advice about my overexpressive use of exclamation points, and yes, I know I use them too much! (SEE) And the last chapter, I had actually edited them out, but, had sent that copy to a friend beforehand (which is why I even had the chapter since my hard drive crashed) so when I posted, I did so from my sent copy and forgot to edit them back out. Forgive my excitedness, as I did honestly take the pointer to heart.
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"Ok, so this Sunnydale Hospital has been empty since when?"
Dean, Bobby, and Joshua all sat around the small table of the hotel that was now currently serving as the headquarters to the Rescue Sam mission. There were others involved as well. Currently, Ellen was gathering information through networking other hunters, Gary was researching anything and everything that this pissant town had to offer, and Ash had his computers going haywire as searches were done nationwide for anyone and everyone that had any beef with anyone named Winchester. Not to mention the other hunters that had their eyes and ears peeled for any signs of Sam or who might have taken him. All in all, the Winchester corner was pretty full.
"Since 2002 when one of the resident physicians was the center of a huge scandal. It seems that Sunnydale was the operation for our very own Dr. Kevorkian. Only, the patients weren't consensual when it came to what he was performing on them."
Dean looked at Joshua and arched a brow, so Joshua continued.
"It appears that several doctors were experimenting on patients for a means of the fountain of youth."
"You mean …"
"They were killing patients to try and find ways to make themselves live forever."
"Let's just be glad that I'm not on the bad side of Doctor Feel Good."
Bobby looked up from his reading as Joshua smirked over Sam's laptop. It seemed odd, the very big part of Sam being used to help find him. It was like a reminder that Sam wasn't there.
"So this hospital has been empty since?"
"It was sold in 2003, and was unoccupied until … well; it says it's never been occupied."
"Not that it matters anyway. Jesus, what in the hell are we doing anyway? None of this is helping us find Sam."
Dean rose and began pacing, something Bobby and Joshua were quite used to. For the past day, Dean would sit, join in the discussion, then get agitated and rise to begin his pacing, ranting, and all out worrying about his brother.
With good reason.
Both Bobby and Joshua were equally worried about the youngest Winchester. But, someone had to hold this rag-tag group together, and they both knew it wasn't going to be Dean. So, while all of them worried about the fate of Sam Winchester, Bobby and Joshua remained calm, at least outwardly, and allowed Dean to vent before continuing on their plight to rescue one of their own.
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"How's our special patient, Allen?"
The loyal member of Dr. Murdoch's staff entered the quiet office, a brow arched before he let out a breath slowly. He was annoyed, to say the least. He was a man of action, and the action they were taking didn't seem to be bringing results as fast as he would have liked.
"He's pacing. Well, as much as his leg will allow."
Daniel Murdoch nodded and rustled through his papers before laying them down and glancing up to the large, blonde man.
"You might as well be candid, Allen. It's what I like about you."
Allen stood stoic for a moment, though it all ended with a large breath of courage. Letting it out slowly, he allowed his feelings to come out in such a way as to let the good doctor think Allen's thoughts were his own. Daniel might be in charge, but Allen definitely had his hand in the cookie jar.
"This … kid. This Sam Winchester. He's making a mockery of you, Sir."
"I don't understand, Allen. I have him caged, I have had him beaten and taken him away from everything he feels is safe. How, exactly, is he mocking me."
A hand swiped over the cleanly shaven face of the blonde as he again sucked in a breath.
"He … defies you, Sir."
"Ahhh. You mean he doesn't bow down to me as you feel he should?"
Allen would have smiled if it wouldn't have blown the seriousness he was trying to convey. But, as it were, he didn't really need to do anything, his amusement was clear enough in his deadly gaze.
"Yes, Sir. That is exactly what I mean. He is defiant and should be made to step into line."
"Yes, well, he is very much like his father and brother. Though there is something different in Sam, I'm just not sure what."
"Regardless, he doesn't show you the respect you deserve."
Daniel Murdoch grinned such a sadistic smile that Satan himself would have shuddered were it directed at him.
"So shall we enforce this show of respect?"
Allen grinned, his own viciousness matching that of the doctor's.
"I thought you'd never ask."
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"Well, the Hornwell place is a bust."
Dean stormed into the motel room looking fit to be tied. Every lead they tried that failed was one more reminder that Sam wasn't with him. That Sam was hurt, possibly dead. No! He shoved that thought aside and looked from Bobby to Joshua, one sandy brow arching slowly.
"You found something?"
"Well … not exactly."
"And just what exactly does not exactly mean?"
"Ellen called."
"Oh cut the crap Bobby."
It was Bobby's turn to arch a brow, though he said nothing. He knew Dean was feeling the weight of the world, so he was going to let this one slide … for now.
"Ash found out who owned the hospital."
"And … ?"
"It's owned by a foreign corporation called Nemesis."
Dean looked between Bobby and Joshua, that look settling on his face as he silently mouthed 'huh'.
"Did Ash say who owned this company?"
"He's trying to find the controlling parties now, as well as where it's based out of."
"Ellen also checked out the history of the town, and, like us, she came up with a big fat nothing."
Dean's gaze shifted from Bobby to Joshua, his voice coming slow.
"So other than the fact that some whacko made a hospital shut its doors, nothing has happened in this town?"
"Well … not exactly … "
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Sam had been awake for the better part of an hour. One blissful hour where his captor didn't come in and cause some physical harm. One hour where he was left to his own devices. One hour where Sam's level head was trying desperately to work some way out of this mess he'd found himself in.
He'd been left food and water (again) but again Sam found himself with hardly an appetite. He did, however, force himself to eat, even if just a little; it would do no good if he was too weak to escape when the opportunity arose.
The water was another matter entirely. He guzzled it. It wasn't like he couldn't get it at anytime from the bathroom, but getting there wasn't as simple as it might have seemed.
Swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he used the wall for support to rise. His left leg and right shoulder screamed in protest to his actions, but Sam didn't seem to notice even if he did coddle his broken right wrist. But, judging by the sweat that was beading on his brow, it was more likely that he was ignoring the pain as best he could.
"So … now we're standing Sam."
Without Dean's sarcastic wit at his side, Sam was making do with himself. He found he lacked sorely in the companionship aspect. But truthfully, he just missed Dean.
His brother had been such a constant in his life that, at times, he drove him to the brink of insanity. Sam realized now, when he was utterly alone, just how much he missed that craziness in his life. He missed his driving, his drinking, the way he hustled pool and women … all at the same time. He would have given anything for Dean to walk in at that very moment to smile and say, "It's okay Sammy, I told you nothing bad was gonna happen to you."
But Sam had the feeling that he was going to remain alone. And worse … that he was going to die alone.
Hobbling to the window, he stared out at the overgrown lawn. It gave him the impression that wherever he was, it wasn't a place that was cared for. Hazels drank in everything like a sponge. Sam was a vast wealth of knowledge, and he got that way by studying. His sudden environment was no different.
Leaning on the glass, he slowly perused the entire lawn … all from the vantage of his room. Then, his gaze took in the distance; the road beyond the lawn. Instantly Sam came to life. Squinting, he eyed the road, watching, waiting … as if just by thinking it a black impala was going to cruise by and Dean would spot him from the road.
His hopes were dashed as he heard the click of the lock. Sam, however, refused to turn and look at his captor. He'd decided that he wasn't going to give this doctor the satisfaction of seeing him break. He could beat him, make him scream in pain … but he wasn't taking his pride. He was hanging onto that for when Dean came.
And Dean was coming.
"Good afternoon Sam."
The voice was enough to make Sam sick to his stomach. But, despite the wave of nausea, he didn't turn, he merely grunted a reply.
"I said Good Afternoon…"
Again he refused to budge, refused to look, just stared out the window, searching, hoping, and praying for Dean to somehow know he was there.
There was a shuffling behind him, a quiet murmur, and then he was suddenly jerked from his stare out the window to stare directly at Allen. Sam couldn't help it; he winced as the sudden change in stance had weight bearing on his left leg.
"I believe Dr. Murdoch was speaking to you … boy!"
Despite the pain, Sam looked at the man (and was happy that he was looking down!), a sneer starting to curl on his mouth.
"Yeah? And I believe I was ignoring him."
He knew it was coming, but still nothing prepared him for the blow that sucked the air from his lungs and had him doubling over. Allen's fist had been accurately deadly, his aim delving for the soft, tender part of Sam's stomach. As Sam doubled and started to keel toward his knees, he jerked him up roughly, his voice menacing and too close for comfort.
"You owe the doc an apology for your insolence. Now be a good boy and say you're sorry."
"Fuck … you … "
The blows Sam received were fast and hard, and while he tried to defend himself, even throw in a few of his own punches as he had that first day, the injuries he'd already received made his decent to the floor faster than Sam would have liked.
Finding himself curled in the fetal position on the floor, his arms used in vain to try and protect his head, Sam tried to block the pain by playing a game he and Dean used to play when they were kids and cooped up in some crummy motel room, waiting for their father to return from his latest hunt.
"You can't fly Sam! Now come down from there."
"I can do anything I wanna, Dean, and you can't stop me!"
"Just … come down from there, Sammy, before you get…"
The crash was deafening as Sam fell off the countertop, learning that he, indeed, could not fly, but what startled Dean the most was the scream that came from his brother.
"Sammy! Talk to me! Are you okay?"
Sniffling, Sam turned and burrowed himself into his big brother as much as he could.
"Dean?"
"Yeah Sammy?"
"You're the bestest big brother ever…"
"Dean……………….."
The name was moaned from his lips as Allen jerked him upright, though Sam was only staying in that position because he was being held there. Smirking, the brutish man looked to Doctor Murdoch, who tugged Sam's cell phone from his pocket.
"Let's give him what he wants."
Moving toward Sam, Daniel squatted down and opened the phone, pressing the talk button to call Dean once again. This was his favorite part … tormenting the eldest Winchester, instilling that feeling of helplessness, of hopelessness.
"Sammy?"
"De…."
Sam perked a little at hearing his brother's voice. He lifted his head slightly, his gaze searching; seeking the comfort Dean had always given.
"Come on Sammy, talk to me!"
"I looked for you, Dean…."
"Sammy, where are you?"
Sam, however, was trying to wade through the fog that was currently his mind. Being beaten to a pulp (again) was not sitting well with his rational side, so it was out to lunch at the moment.
"Oh the floor … bleeding …"
"Sam? Sammy, tell me where you are!!"
"Dean?"
"Yeah, Sammy?"
"You're the bestest big brother ever."
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