9. Mack The Knife

The first thing Sam was aware of was the fact that he couldn't move.

The second one was that he was kneeling in the mud.

The third one was that the room was fucking cold.

He cracked his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. He tried again to move, but found himself incapable of doing so, and he soon understood why. He was on his knees with his back against a post. His arms were stretched out behind him and his wrists and ankles were tied up behind the post. Grunting, he looked around, trying to find his father and brother. He spotted his still unconscious father a few feet on his left, tied the same way he was. Sam looked ahead of him and saw Dean, sitting there with his back against the wall. He too was still out of it.

Sam blinked. His brother wasn't tied up at all. That could only mean two things. One: these guys would come back to hurt Dean. Two: Dean was already dead.

Sam shook his head. He wouldn't have any of the two. He cleared his throat then called. "Dean?" Nothing. "Dean! Come on dude, wake up!" Dean moaned a little but didn't wake up. 'Well, at least he's alive' Sam thought grimly.

He huffed impatiently then turned to his father. "Dad, wake up, we're in deep shit!" he almost yelled. And waited. And waited. He always thought his dad was annoying when he scolded them for using the very rude words he used himself, but right now Sam wished his dad would wake up and yell at him for his choice of words.

He was about to call again when his dad's eyelids slowly fluttered open. The eldest Winchester looked around the same way Sam did, groaning when he saw the mess he and his boys were into.

"Sammy?" he almost whispered, "What happened?"

Sam smiled a little. "Looks like they knocked us out then brought us here and we're in trouble. Again."

John sighed. "Yeah, I can see that." He then turned to his eldest. "Dean! Wake up!" he barked. More nothing from Dean. "Dean, you wake up now, that's an order!" he said, keeping the worry out of his voice as best as he could.

After what felt like an eternity, Dean moaned again then opened his eyes. He looked at his father and brother, confused. Then everything came back to him and he tried to get up. The second try was successful, but cut short when the only door of the room opened and five men stepped in. John felt anger rise up inside him as he saw the leader still had that fucking grin on his face.

"Aw, Deano, you leaving already?" the man asked sarcastically. He gave his buddies a quick nod and two of them grabbed Dean a pulled him back down, keeping him there. The man seemed satisfied then turned to John.

"Hello, Johnny." He said casually. "I expect you still don't remember me?" John's puzzled look was an answer enough. "I'll take that as a no. So let's refresh your memory. Sixteen years ago, I called you about a poltergeist that seemed threatening. You came over with your kid here." He gestured toward Dean, "Said it wasn't that bad and it'd be over soon." The man gave a sarcastic chuckle.

"Turns out, it was a little more… difficult then you thought. And one night you and your brat are in my house with us. And by us, I mean my daughter and me." The man clenched his hands into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. "But suddenly my house is on fire. We both get out, only to realize our kids are upstairs. You tell me to stay put and you run inside. You come back a while later, carrying your son. And when I ask you about my daughter, you say you didn't have time to reach her. And that's how I lost everything I had."

Realization dawned on John. More like fell on his head and almost knocked him out, actually. "Heverson." He muttered. Damn, how could he have forgotten about him? Swallowing hard, he tried to reason the man. "I remember now. I went upstairs. Dean was in one room with the EMF and you daughter was playing in the room opposite. I went to get Dean because he was closer but when I tried to get to her…" he trailed off as memories of her screams came flooding back to his memory.

Heverson snorted. "Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night." John sadly shook his head.

"That's the truth and you know it."

"I know no such thing." Heverson spat out. "All I know is you only cared about saving your own son. I'd already lost my wife and then I lose my daughter because of you."

"I tried!" John objected. "I tried to get to her, but I couldn't! It would only have gotten Dean and I killed, what was I supposed to do?"

"Try harder!" Heverson yelled back. For the first time his grin had completely vanished to be replace with pure fury. He looked down, trying to get a hold on his emotions. When he looked up, his face was blank, apart from the grin that had regained its place.

Sam had listened to everything they'd said. And the more he knew, the more he felt like Dean was in for a lot of pain. A quick glance at his brother told him that Dean already knew that as well. Sam tried to get free, but that only made the rope cut deeper in his skin.

Heverson's grin grew even wider and he walked up to Dean. He lowered himself and slightly, almost lovingly, caressed the scars on the young man's cheeks.

"You wanna know why I use knives?" He asked, an inhuman smile on his lips. It was obvious he was still talking to John. Without waiting for a response, he went on. "Because guns are too quick. You can't savor all the emotions. But with knives…" he gave a content sigh. "Knives are just perfect."

"You're sick." John spat.

"No, I'm not." Heverson chuckled humorlessly, "I like to think of myself as a regular Mack the Knife. But I won't just cut throats, because that wouldn't be as fun as what I'm gonna do to your boy." He turned to face John, cackling. "And all you and Sammy boy will be able to do is sit there and watch."

TBC…


Who would have thought listening to Robbie Williams' "Swing When You're Winning" would make writing so easy?

And as maybe some of you figure out, I threw in a few Joker quotes. I'll probably keep doing that in the next chapters but remember: Heverson's not wearing make up, he doesn't have scars on his face and doesn't wear a purple suit. It's just a tribute I'm paying to the marvelous movie "The Dark Knight" and especially to an extremely talented actor I've admired ever since seeing him in "A Knight's Tale": Heath Ledger.

See you tomorrow, but be prepared for blood!

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