so, as with the last chapter, fair warning, i think it is pretty gruesome...thanks for reading and thanks for all the awesome reviews!! you guys are awesome!! bambers;)
Chapter Ten
Charlie strode away from Sam toward a long wooden table at the far corner of the room, and Dean got his first real glimpse of his brother. Long slashing wounds, covered Sam's chest and stomach, charred and blackened from the hot poker. The odd sweet smell of burnt flesh filled the musty air, Dean nearly gagging on it.
Dean fought the tears threatening to overwhelm him as he stared at his broken brother. Oh God, Sammy, those are never gonna go away. How the hell am I supposed to fix this?
Blood from Sam's hand dripped soundlessly to the ground. Sam's shaggy hair partially covered his swollen right eye, tinges of deep purple forming around the outer edges of his eyelid. I swear, Sammy, I'll make him suffer for everything he did to you.
The sound of rusty wheels squeaking across the cement floor, drew Dean's attention to the madman, who had mercilessly tortured his brother. Charlie stopped the cart heavily laden with cruel looking instruments in front of Sam.
"Ready to see me tear your brother apart, Dean, cause I gotta tell ya, I'm just dying to begin."
Dean glared at the man from his prone position on the ground. I'm so sorry, Sam . . . so sorry I didn't protect you from this. "I'm gonna kill you, you know that don't you? Gonna make you suffer for every once of pain you inflicted on my brother."
"I think I'd be shaking more if you weren't all tied up . . . but of course you are, so I'm not all that worried." Charlie laughed.
Charlie stalked toward Dean, grabbed him by the arm with one hand and the toppled chair with the other, yanking hard, and pulling Dean back into an upright position. Dean felt the ropes around his right wrist and ankle slacken slightly, with the sudden jerking movement.
"There, that's much better, wouldn't want you to miss anything." Charlie turned and headed back to Sam.
Dean pressed down against the wooden chair and dragged his arm backward, and felt the tight binds loosen a little bit more. Hold on, Sammy . . . it's not a lot, but at least it's a start. I swear to God, if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna break free and save you.
Hearing a soft moan, Dean glanced up and saw his brother was waking. Sam's normally bright hazel eyes were glazed with pain as he looked at Dean. There was an unspoken plea for help in them, and it nearly broke Dean's heart. I'm tryin', Sammy — you just got to hold on. Please just hold for me.
Charlie held up a metal object that looked almost like a collar with a thick metal plate in front, and an oblong shaped box, sticking out of the back."You know what this is, Dean?"
Dean remained silent, glaring at the crazed lunatic.
"Awww . . . come on, Dean, it's no fun if you aren't even gonna try and guess." He waited another moment, and then added, "Very well, it's called an iron gag, very old school. Doesn't look too deadly, does it?"
Charlie grabbed Sam by the hair, yanking his head backward. "Open your mouth."
Sam shook his head, lower jaw trembling, his gaze remaining on Dean.
"Let me rephrase myself — open your mouth or I'll smash all your teeth in. Is that better?"
Reluctantly, Sam opened his mouth and Charlie shoved the oblong box inside of it, the box pressing Sam's tongue down and gagging him. Charlie locked it in place behind Sam's neck, Sam's muffled cry choked off by the strange metal mask.
"Now here's the trick with the iron gag . . . what made it a real fun torture device." Charlie covered the air hole and after a few seconds Sam started squirming, shaking his head, trying to break free so he could breathe.
"Let go of him, you bastard," Dean screamed, tugging more viciously on his restraints.
Chuckling, Charlie turned his head to the side to look at Dean. "Give it another second or two, Dean, want to see how long Sammyboy can go without air."
Sam's eyes rolled backward, his frantic movements becoming more and more sluggish. His head lolled backward then drooped to the side, and just as Dean thought Sam was gonna pass out from lack of oxygen, Charlie removed his hand.
Sam breathed hard against the metal gag, chest heaving, a choked muffled sob escaping from the narrow air hole.
"Should I do it again, Dean . . . see how long it takes for Sammy to actually lose consciousness?"A gloating smile lingered on Charlie's face, lips twisting into a smirk. "Really shouldn't take too long, seein' how he's already having trouble breathing." Charlie glanced at the bottle of pills on the table underneath all the photos of Sam and Dean and then his gaze fixed on Dean. "The poor boy really should've been taking his antibiotics."
"You sonuvabitch."
"Yeah, I really am . . . aren't I?"
"Whatever you're gonna do to him, do it to me instead." Dean's brows drew together, sparks of fury in his dark green orbs, a look of pure hatred on his face. "Just let him go, you bastard."
"Not the answer I was looking for." Charlie twisted around and clamped his hand down once again on the air hole, blocking off Sam's air.
After a few moments of useless writhing, Sam's head drooped forward, eyelids slowly fluttering open and closed.
"Sam . . . Sammy! You stay with me," Dean ordered, trying to sound as much like his father as he possibly could. "You fight and don't you dare stop. You hear me? Don't you stop fighting — not now, not ever."
Sam glanced in Dean's direction, heavy eyelids slightly open, and gave a weak nod.
Charlie removed his hand from the gag. "Ah, good, Sammy, you have some fight in you after all. I was beginning to worry."
The crazed man picked up the mallet, he'd smashed Dean's hand with, and gingerly kneaded the handle between his fingers. He returned his gaze to Sam, pursing his lips as if contemplating his next move. "Let's see, we've already pinned down your left hand, how about we go for the other one."
Balling his right hand into a tight fist, Sam glared at Charlie, and then his gaze darted to Dean and fixed on him. The muscles in Sam's cheeks twitched as tears filled his eyes, and Dean could tell how close he was to losing it.
Come on, Sammy, don't let him do this to you — Don't let him win.
Charlie pried Sam's hand open, snapping and breaking each of his fingers, with a sickening crunch, and Sam screamed against the gag. The madman grabbed a heavy metal spike off the cart and pressed it into Sam's hand.
Sam tore his gaze away from Dean's and looked at his own hand. His Adam's apple bobbed convulsively as he swallowed hard against the gag, shaking his head as he tried to shy away from the serial killer.
"Look at me, Sam," Dean commanded, desperate not to have Sam see what was about to happen. "Look at me and whatever happens, don't you take your eyes off of me. Do you hear me?"
Slowly, Sam turned to stare at Dean, body trembling, a wild terrified look in his eyes.
"I'm gonna save you, Sammy. Don't you doubt it even for a second." Sweat beaded on Dean's forehead and dripped into his eyes as he yanked even harder the restraints. With muscles flexing and bunching, he felt the ropes loosen even more, his hand slipping through the first coil of roping.
"Awww . . . isn't that sweet, Sammy, your brother thinks he's gonna save you." Charlie raised the mallet. "Do you believe him?"
Without looking away from Dean, Sam nodded.
"Really?" Charlie swung hard and drove the spike into Sam's right hand, and Sam's muffled cry was drowned out by Dean's scream. He slammed the mallet into the spike again, blood steadily seeping from beneath it to drip onto the floor.
Wincing, Sam squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling. Instinctively, Sam curled shaky fingers around the thick metal nail, in an attempt to shelter his injured hand from more pain.
"How about now, Sammy. Do you think he's gonna protect you?"
Tears slipped down Sam's cheeks unheeded as he gave a curt nod.
Charlie turned to face Dean, a malicious gleam in his dark eyes. "Huh, guess I'd better try a little harder, don't you think so, Dean?" He swung back and forcefully slammed the mallet into Sam's stomach.
Doubling over, Sam gasped for breath, and Charlie clamped his hand down on the mask's air hole, withholding oxygen. Rearing up, Sam writhed against his capture's firm grasp on the mask, to no avail.
"I hold your life in my hands, Sammy," Charlie chided. "I'm the only one who can give you the air you need to live, so tell me now — Can . . . Dean . . . Save . . . You?"
Sam glanced at Dean, a lost forlorn expression in his sad hazel eyes, then looked at Charlie and shook his head. Charlie released his hold on the mask, and Sam drew in staggering breaths, coughing against the gag, his chest heaving with the strain it took to gather a full intake of air.
The defeated look in his brother's eyes was almost more than Dean could bear. Oh God, Sammy, don't give up on me now.
Dean's sweaty hand slipped free of the binding on his right hand. I'm almost free, just give me a little more time. I swear, I'll make him pay for what he's done to you, Sammy. I swear on my life, I will. Making sure Charlie wasn't looking, Dean cautiously leaned to his side and snatched the knife he had concealed in his boot.
Charlie shuffled through the deadly weapons on the cart and pulled a long dagger-sharp four-pronged object from the surface and held it up so Sam could get a better look at it. "Now let's see how much pain you really can endure, Sammy."
Seeing the look of absolute terror on his brother's face, Dean redoubled his efforts. Quickly sawing through the ropes around his right leg, Dean started on his left. At the sound of Sam's muted cry, Dean jerked his head up and saw the crazed killer, slashing through Sam's chest with the wicked pronged weapon. Blood dripped down from the cruel looking wounds, quickly soaking into Sam's jeans.
Charlie looked from the weapon to Sam, and smiled. "It's called a Spanish Tickler, Sammyboy, can't understand why you're not laughing."
Sam's head dropped forward, his body quivering and jerking spasmodically, and then he ceased to move, becoming deathly still.
Dean slashed through the last of his binds, mindless of the fact that he'd sliced through his own skin, and leapt to his feet, a shockwave of pain ripping through his injured foot. He nearly stumbled before regaining his balance and limped toward the vicious madman, holding his knife in a death-grip.
So engrossed in torturing Sam, Charlie failed to hear Dean's stealthy approach. Dean raised his knife and drove it into the man's back and yanked it out, poised to strike again. A startled cry of pain escaped from Charlie's lips as he swung to glare at Dean.
Dean slammed his broken hand into the madman's face, shuddering at the jolt of searing pain, traveling up the length of his arm from the impact.
Charlie lifted the weapon in his hand, charging at Dean. Dean dropped his knife, caught the man's outstretched arm, and twisted it viciously behind his back. Yanking on it with all his strength, Dean smashed his elbow down hard against the bone, and heard a sickening crack, followed by a yelp of pain from Charlie.
Dean kicked the man square in the middle of his back, sending Charlie sprawling to the ground. Snatching up his discarded blade, Dean stormed toward Charlie, a wicked glint in his green eyes.
"Now it's my turn you evil sonuvabitch."