Disclaimer: I do not own these characters- they belong to Eric Kripke and I wouldn't have it any other way! This story was requested by Emerald-Water.
Summary: Sequel to Sacrificial Son. It's been ten years since Sarina, but a new hunt involving the bodies of teenage boys lined up on a river's edge is bringing back horrible memories for Dean; just what he needs after losing his father.
Tag to Bloodlust. WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR THIS EPISODE!
Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.
Ringing… That was the first thing that registered in Sam's mind as he slowly fought his way back to consciousness. Shortly after that, he realized the ringing wasn't just in his throbbing head.
A groan escaped his lips as he forced his right arm to respond and retrieve his cell from his pocket. His eyes remained stubbornly closed as he flipped the phone open and brought it to his ear.
"'lo?" he grunted, wincing at the volume of his own voice. It felt like he had a raging hangover.
"Sam? You alright, boy?"
"Bobby?" Sam frowned, feeling a sense of urgency he couldn't quite place yet. "'s goin' on?"
"You tell me, kid. I'm close to the roadhouse now. Wanna tell me where I'm goin' from here?"
Roadhouse? Bar… Biker… Fight… Stranger… Dean!
Everything came flooding back to Sam and hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. His eyes snapped open. "Oh god…"
"Sam? What…?"
"I'll call ya back, Bobby."
With that, Sam snapped his phone shut and pushed himself up onto shaky legs that were barely able to support him. He stumbled off the back of the truck and was incredibly relieved to find that he was still just outside of the park and the Impala was right where he had left it.
Moving silently to the still open trunk, he found his favorite gun and not a minute too soon. Heavy footfalls signaled the return of Cliff as he came striding back out of the woods, headed for his own truck.
Sam ducked down behind the Impala, then circled around to stealthily follow the bigger man until they reached the truck bed.
Cliff glanced in the back and was surprised to find that Sam was no longer where he had left him. "What the…?"
"Don't move." Sam cocked the gun and held it close to Cliff's head.
Cliff froze, but that didn't stop him from running his mouth. "You ain't got the guts to kill me, boy."
"Oh, believe me. Not only do I have the guts, but there's only one question you can answer for me that'll keep me from splattering your brains all over your truck. Where's my brother?"
Cliff began to chuckle. "You're never gonna find him. The boss had everythin' planned from the start. Pretty Boy's as good as gone."
"Wrong answer."
Sam brought the butt of the gun down hard on the back of Cliff's head, then watched him fall gracelessly to the ground. "Have fun with that headache when you wake up…"
He turned towards the woods into which his brother had disappeared and took off at a cautious run, keeping his gun pointed at a low angle but ready to aim when necessary.
Sam ran straight through the park, keeping his eyes peeled for Dean. He skidded to a halt seconds before reaching the edge of the river Ms. Bennett had warned them about. He glanced down into the water, then upstream and downstream, before spinning in slow circles hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother or even just a clue as to where he might have gone. But neither Dean nor the stranger was anywhere to be found.
The only evidence that they had been there at all was a small pool of blood coating a handful of leaves on the ground and a few other scattered drops leading towards the river.
Gun held loosely in his hand, Sam dropped to his knees in the muddy dirt by the water, feeling lost and dejected. His phone began to ring again and he knew who it would be before he answered.
"He's gone, Bobby. Dean's gone."
XXXXXXXXXX
Soft, melodic singing brought Dean out of his darkness. At first, he laid still, listening to the woman's voice. He felt cold, inside and out. His brain fought like hell to catch up to the present, trying to fill in what had happened during his forced siesta.
The acrid taste in his mouth left over from the chloroform told him all he needed to know. This wasn't a hangover from a late night bender… This was a deliberate kidnapping.
The soft voice was gradually growing louder and creaking footsteps alerted him to movement across the room. Whoever was singing was heading straight towards him.
Judging by the soft fabric beneath his cheek, he was lying on a bed which in normal circumstances would have been preferred to say… a face-full of tar and pebbles. But at this point, it only served to make his heart beat faster. It certainly didn't help that he was lying on his stomach and unarmed, feeling utterly defenseless.
Dean kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep, but he tensed automatically when she paused inches away from the bed. He could feel her eyes boring holes into his exposed back and a repressed memory of Sarina forced its way into his mind, making his stomach clench uncomfortably.
Ah crap…
XXXXXXXXXX
Only when Sam heard the truck's engine roar to life did he remember Cliff.
Damn it!
He shot to his feet and raced back through the park until he reached the road, but by then, he could only see the truck's tail lights fading into the distance. He laced his fingers through his hair in frustration, then spun slowly on the spot, hoping for some sort of answer that would bring his brother back to him.
Please hurry, Bobby…
XXXXXXXXXX
The sound of dripping water near his head did nothing to calm Dean's nerves or ease his chills. Neither did the wet rag that was suddenly brushed across the side of his face, making him jump unwittingly.
The hand controlling the rag dabbed at his torn back gently. Dean could still feel the splinters of glass and wood imbedded in his flesh and the light pressure against his wounds felt like slow torture.
Every muscle told him to move and get out from underneath the hand that was now moving strategically downwards, stopping just shy of the waistband of his jeans. Dean's hands clenched into fists as he struggled to control his fight or flight instincts.
Though he would never admit it to anyone, Dean was terrified. Judging by the fact his reasonably numb arms were stretched above his head, he wasn't here as a guest and it was too quiet to be a hospital bed.
The slightest twitch of a wrist confirmed his suspicions when metal cuffs clinked against a metal bar belonging to what he assumed was a headboard.
Unfortunately, the small movement wasn't missed by the stranger standing next to him.
"Edgar, dear? I think he's starting to wake up!" the voice trilled in excitement, much louder than her previous humming had been. Dean winced as it made his head throb.
Heavier footsteps were approaching the small bedroom now and the sinking feeling in his gut told Dean he probably knew who the owner of those shoes was. That little creep from the side of the road…Shit! Sammy!
No longer caring about the possible repercussions, Dean's eyes flew open and he lifted his head from the pillow just enough to glance around the room, not sure if he would be more relieved to find his brother there with him or not.
Much to his annoyance, however, his vision chose not to cooperate and his head felt like it was spinning off of his shoulders. He groaned involuntarily and dropped his head back to the pillow, closing his eyes in hopes that it would quiet his stomach before it was too late.
The manicured fingers that ran soothingly through his spiky hair caught him by surprise. "Hush little baby, don't say a word…" the soft voice cooed, apparently intending to comfort him though it had the exact opposite effect. "Mamma's gonna take care of you, baby. You're home now, safe and sound."
Great… Insanity's contagious. "Look, lady, as I tried to explain to your whacked-out husband, I'm not who you think I am. My name's…"
"That's enough, Billy!" a vaguely familiar voice spoke up from what Dean assumed was a doorway on the other side of the room. "This game of yours is tiresome."
Using his elbows for leverage, Dean pushed himself up a few inches and craned his neck to confirm his suspicions. He bit back the growl that threatened to burst loose when he spotted the man that had attacked him earlier.
"Oh, leave him alone, Edgar. It's obvious our poor boy has had a rough day already." She took hold of Dean's upper left arm and tutted at the bullet graze that was still seeping blood sluggishly. "Go finish your supper, dear. I'll watch over him."
"Alright, Maggie. But don't undo his cuffs, understand? He's still a flight risk until he comes to his senses."
"He's not goin' anywhere, are you, baby…?" she cooed again, using the same wet rag to dab at Dean's bloody arm. "You'll be back to yourself in no time, Billy."
Wonderful. I thought the Benders were bad, but I'd take them over the Beaver Cleaver clan any day…
"Now, let's get you all cleaned up. You're quite the mess, aren't you?"
"'m fine," Dean mumbled, trying to pull his arm out of her grasp. He knew he was fighting a losing argument but felt the need to put on a tough act nonetheless.
"Nonsense. Now you just relax and let momma take care of you, just like when you were a boy."
Dean's heart constricted at the thought of what it was like to have a mother when he was a child. Truth be told, she did share a slight resemblance with Mary…
Dean tightened his jaw and dropped his eyes to the pillow in front of him, refusing to let her words affect him.
Those manicured fingers were back again, this time running gently down the back of his neck, re-igniting the chills he had almost shaken off. She leaned down and whispered into his ear, making him tilt his head away in disgust.
"I missed you, baby." She kissed his cheek tenderly and suddenly she wasn't giving off motherly vibes anymore. "You grew up handsome, Billy."
Jesus…Not this shit again. Where are you, Sammy?
She was leaning even closer now, clearly aiming for his lips. Dean drew back as far as his battered and cuffed body allowed, grimacing as he leaned more weight onto his busted ribs. "Don't," he stated softly, praying she'd heed him.
The woman drew back, looking slightly hurt. "Don't you remember how we used to be, Billy? We took real good care of each other before you left…"
Dean's indignant rage was getting the better of him. "What the hell's wrong with you, lady? It's no freakin' wonder your kid ran away!"
She couldn't have looked more shocked if Dean had slapped her across the face. Then something occurred to her and a comforting smile crossed her face as she gazed loving down at him again. "You haven't been takin' your medication, have you, baby?" she scolded with an understanding smile.
"What are you talkin' about?" Dean demanded, wondering how much more his nerves could take at this point.
The woman stood and made her way across the room to a small cabinet. Dean twisted on the bed again, trying desperately to keep her in sight. He watched as she pulled out a bottle filled with a clear liquid and a syringe. "Don't you worry now, Billy. Everythin's gonna be alright in a moment."
"Whoa whoa whoa… What the hell is that?"
"Just a little somethin' to calm you down. It'll only hurt for a second…"
She moved back to the bed, squeezing a bit of the fluid out to make sure there were no air bubbles present. Dean began pulling against his restraints with as much strength as he could muster but the cuffs wouldn't budge.
"Oh, come now… You know better than to squirm," she scolded. "It's only going to hurt more! Now hold still like a good little boy…"
She plunged the needle into his bad shoulder and he yelped in pain. Once the medication was emptied into his muscle, she pulled the needle out and rubbed his arm soothingly, sending shooting fire up and down the sensitive joint. He bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.
"There you go, baby. All better."
"What did you just give me?" he panted.
"You know exactly what it was, Billy. You've been on these meds for years. Why don't you just lie back and relax now while the drugs do their job, okay? Oh dear… You've gone and opened your wounds up again. I'll go get the med kit."
Dean was feeling weaker by the minute, but he was staying conscious so the medication wasn't meant to knock him out. If he were to guess, he'd have said it was some sort of paralytic. That is, until the hallucinations began…
TBC
Please please please review! It's much appreciated! Thanks for reading, and I'll put up another post as soon as I can get to it.
