A/N Sorry for taking so long to update. I was having a touch of writer's block on the next chapter. But I think I have finally muddled through. So thanks to all that are reading. *hugs all*
Chapter 11
Sam was in the bathroom when he heard someone in the main room. Leaning back slightly, he called over his shoulder, "Be right out." He quickly finished with his business and turned to wash his hands. "You were right," he called again. "I couldn't pinpoint Father Donovan." Drying his hands, the young hunter moved towards the door, wondering why his brother hadn't made any smart-assed comments in reply.
Opening the door, Sam continued talking without turning to look at the person in the room. "So I called Nana…and she doesn't know where Kimberly is. She went missing right after we left…" His voice trailed off as he moved to the kitchen area, his gaze falling on the possessed Kimberly instead of his older brother.
"How the hell did you get in here?" Sam sputtered, turning his head to examine the salt lines, noticing the line in front of the door had been disturbed.
She smiled coldly, her eyes taking on an odd colour, not quite brown and not quite black - a strange swirling mixture of the two. "A police badge comes in handy… I just flashed it to the manager and he let me in. Of course when he unlocked the door, he opened it for me…Breaking your protective little line." The demon quickly crossed the room. Coming to a halt in front of Sam; she slid her hand across his face. "I've heard so much about you, Sam," she murmured, lightly tapping his cheek.
"Really," the hunter replied, feigning disinterest. "And what have you heard?" Taking a step back, Sam narrowed his hazel orbs. "Oh let me guess…I was supposed to lead some stupid demon army, and when I refused, Lillith stepped up and now she wants my head on a stick…And you're gonna give it to her."
Bethany laughed softly. "I don't give a flying f**k about Lillith…Or your supposed demon expelling abilities." She cocked her head to the side. "I don't really want to kill you. But I may have to…for my own personal reasons."
Sam quickly scanned the area, trying to remember if Dean had taken the demon-killing knife with him or if it was somewhere in the room. He walked casually towards the beds - and the weapons bag. "Personal reasons, huh?" Sam asked, trying to keep the demon talking and distracted. "What did I ever do to you?"
Beth quirked an eyebrow, watching the young hunter in amusement. He obviously thought he had her fooled with his innocent act, but then, he didn't know whom he was dealing with. She waited until Sam sat on the bed; discreetly trying to grasp the bag, then flicked her wrist, slamming him against the wall before letting him drop to the floor.
Sam scrambled to his feet, anger burning in his hazel eyes. He was getting damned tired of being flung around like yesterdays trash. Every time he and his brother encountered a supernatural entity, he ended up being slammed into a wall - ground - whatever hard surface was available. The youngest Winchester raised his head to glare at the demon, clenching his fists at his sides.
The being wearing Kimberly Richards' meat smiled at the raging man. She could feel him gathering his energy - planning to use his powers against her. Lifting her hand, palm facing the young hunter, she flexed her mental muscles and pinned Sam to the wall.
Bethany surveyed the room, unhappy with the sparse furnishings. The room contained two beds, a very unsteady card table, a couple kitchen chairs and a small TV sitting on a rickety looking stand. Not much to work with at all, none of the chairs looked strong enough to hold the angry Sam Winchester. And for what she had planned, he needed to be securely restrained.
Keeping a portion of her thoughts on maintaining her psychic hold on the tall hunter, the young demon studied the beds, nodding her approval at the solid head and footboards. They would do nicely; she was accustomed to her participants being horizontal anyway.
Returning her attention to the man against the wall, she flashed a menacing smile. "So, do you feel like cooperating or will I have to use force?"
"Go to Hell," Sam growled, struggling against the invisible bonds.
Bethany clapped her hands gleefully. "Oh goody," she gushed. "I love it when my clientele have spunk." Her brown-black eyes sparkled. "It makes the game so much more fun…" Turning, the demon beckoned with her hand. The young hunter felt his body move forward, gliding across the dingy carpeting towards the bed closest to the door - Dean's bed.
Once she got the youngest Winchester lying on the bed, Beth looked down at the figure thoughtfully. Pursing her lips, she reached her hands forward, nimbly unbuckling the belt at his waist. Sam automatically withdrew trying to push his body further into the bed and away from the demon's touch. His eyes widened when he felt his belt loosened and pulled through the loops of his jeans.
Feeling the young man tense, Beth deposited the belt on the bed and turned to see his face, her grim lips moving into an amused smile when she realized what the hunter was thinking. She gently ran her fingertips along his jaw and down his neck, stopping at the collar of his tee shirt. With a wink, she grasped the garment in both hands, ripping it open to expose his muscular torso.
"What are you doing?" Sam gasped, struggling to shift his body away from her touch. He could move everything but his arms and legs, which were restrained against the head and footboards - psychically tied.
"Just relax," Beth cooed, lightly dragging her fingernails from his chest to his abdomen. She could feel the young man's heart ramming into overdrive as he dug into the core of his being, focussing on removing the invisible bonds.
Snatching up the leather belt, the dark entity moved to the headboard. She gripped his right wrist firmly and quickly fastened it to the wood frame. Satisfied that he couldn't slip free, Beth reached for the destroyed tee shirt. Realizing Sam's arms were still in the sleeves, she slid her hand under the pillow and found Dean's knife, triumphantly pulling it free
Sam stared at Beth, his jaw dropping in surprise. She had reached beneath the pillow in total confidence, expecting the blade to be there - but how had she known Dean kept his knife there?
Using the older brother's Bowie knife, the demon made quick work of the cloth, freeing it from Sam's arms and tearing it into strips. She now had what she needed to finish securing the hunter to the bed.
After using the makeshift straps to confine the youngest Winchester, Bethany released her psychic hold and sagged wearily onto the bed next to him. Looking at him, she sighed. "Do you happen to have a pen, marker or perhaps some ochre? Ochre would be better…"
Sam raised his head, staring at the demon incredulously - she was clearly insane. The bitch had just tied him to the bed, then casually requested writing materials. With an inward groan, the hunter dropped his head back on the pillow, refusing to answer.
Shrugging, Beth tugged her lip pensively before tilting her head and speaking. "You're right…I shouldn't use inks or ochre. That'd be so….temporary." She leaned in until her face was mere inches from the young man's. "We should have something permanent, that way there will be no future surprises." Pausing, the demon regarded him sadly. "Still, it'll be a pity to mar that pretty forehead…" Sitting back, she picked up Dean's knife, thinking of the irony - Dean's weapon being used on his precious baby brother. She placed the tip of the blade on Sam's forehead, over the third eye.
Sam flinched, feeling the point of cold steel against his skin, and drew in a steadying breath. The demon smiled down at him, almost sadly, while applying just enough pressure to break the skin and draw blood. Hissing in pain, the young hunter turned away from the cutting blade, feeling the warm trickle of blood as it flowed to the surface.
"Don't move…" Bethany whispered. "I don't want to hurt you more than necessary…at least not yet." She gripped his chin with pure demonic strength, pulling his head back and holding it in place.
"Why are you doing this," Sam questioned, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"I did ask for a pen, remember," the demon answered flippantly. "But you wouldn't cooperate…" Sighing, she concentrated on the symbol she was painstakingly etching into the man's forehead.
"What are you carving on me?" the young Winchester demanded, his jaw clenched against the sting of the blade.
"What…this?" she drawled innocently. "Just a little symbol to keep you put. I have to go get something from the car, and I can't have you astral projecting to your brother."
Sam stared at her in confusion. Astral projection?
Picking up a piece of the tee shirt she hadn't used, she gently wiped the blood from his forehead. "I didn't even know you were capable of astral projection…So many things you keep to yourself." Shaking her head, she studied the symbol. "Then you popped in on me and Father Donovan - that's when I realized. You're gathering quite a collection of abilities, Sammy."
"It's Sam," the young man bit out, glaring defiantly at the copper-haired demon as he began to piece together what she was saying. What he had seen in the dark hours of the morning wasn't a dream, or vision. He had somehow left his physical body - had actually been there, witnessing the death of the priest.
"So this little picture on your head will keep you in your body… And believe me, you'll be screaming to be out of it before I'm done," Beth continued, not acknowledging that he had spoken. Patting his shoulder apologetically, she stood up. "Now I just need to jump to the car for a minute…Don't go away."
Sam blinked and she vanished.
With the demon gone, and the threat of supernatural energies no longer hanging over his head, the youngest Winchester tugged at his restraints in earnest. He had to find a way to break free of his captor and find his brother. Sweat beaded on his brow, stinging the freshly carved wound. Turning his head, Sam tried to wipe the perspiration onto his upper arm, a faint gasp escaping his lips when the burning sensation increased on contact.
Sam shifted his body, trying to get a better view of the ties holding his extremities in place.
"Don't be silly, you can't get out of that…" Bethany stood at the foot of the bed, a wooden box clutched in her hands. "Just look at those knots, Sammy. I had a real good teacher. No one could tie better knots than The Flesher... And he taught me well." Approaching the bed head, she placed the box on the nightstand before quickly checking Sam's bindings. "See? No getting out."
"My name is Sam," he snarled at the demon. His arms were beginning to ache, a dull throb from wrists to shoulders. He tried to relax, hoping to alleviate the strain on the muscles in his upper arms. Closing his eyes, he thought of his brother, wondering what was taking the older hunter so long. A chill travelled through his body as fear for his sibling took hold of his thoughts. Dean should've been back by now. Had something happened to him? What if this demon wasn't working alone? His imagination began to kick in, images of his brother injured or worse flashing through his mind.
With renewed determination, the young hunter opened his eyes and pulled against the restraints. He gasped as the leather cut into his wrist, releasing a slick flow of blood. Sam stopped struggling, trying to create a different plan of escape. Breathing deeply, he convinced himself that his brother was fine and would be back soon and together they'd kick this demon's ass.
Ignoring the actions of her hostage, the demon lowered herself to the floor between the beds before pulling the weapons bag into her lap. "To show you what else I learned, I'm going to need a few tools." She slowly rifled through the bag, taking out the weapons that caught her interest. Hauling a handgun from the depths of the canvas carryall, Beth raised her gaze to her captive audience. "Guns are too impersonal, don't you think?" Tossing the gun onto the floor, she dug deeper into the duffel.
Sighing, she dropped the knapsack to the floor and studied the tools she had selected. There were a few knives, a machete and very little else that would suit her needs. Shaking her head in disappointment, she got to her feet and began clearing off the bedside stand, leaving the box where it lay. The demon picked up the zippered shaving kit smiling as she looked at the items inside. The razor blades wouldn't be much use unless she removed them from the handles, but if she remembered correctly, aftershave could hurt like a son of a bitch on an open wound.
Sam focussed on the possessed woman, his gaze following her every move while she arranged the weapons on the stand. The earlier fear for his brother was now matched by a growing sense of horror as he watched her meticulously examine each blade, checking sharpness and wiping them clean. The hunter swallowed hard, knowing what was coming next, and unable to stop it.
Beth picked up the lamp, intending to deposit it on the other bed, but the cord caught her attention. "How much power travels through these cords?" she asked Sam curiously. The young man's face paled considerably, his wide hazel eyes staring at her in disbelief. The demon's lips curled into an eerie smile. "I guess I have my answer…I would say a lot. Maybe even a painful amount?" Snickering, she pulled the plug from the wall and cut the cord from the base of the lamp. She peeled the plastic coating from the wires, then returned the plug to the outlet.
"This should be fun," she murmured. "My teacher always said there are all kinds tools…one need only be creative and improvise…I guess he was right." Laying the exposed wire on the nightstand, she picked up the Bowie knife and moved to Sam's side. Starting at his ankle Beth ran the blade along the pantleg to the wastband, slicing easily through the denim, carefully avoiding his skin. Moving to the other side, she repeated the process.
Beth looked down at her victim solemnly. "Now, in order for me to get these jeans out of the way, I'm gonna need to cut the seams at the groin…Think you can hold still?" The demon moved to the middle of the bed, gently pulling the material away from his skin.
"Wait!" Sam shouted. "You can just pull them off… I'll help. See?" The panicked man arched his back, lifting his bottom from the bed to enable the woman to tug the material free, leaving him in just his boxers. Closing his eyes, Sam took a deep breath; he had to find away to stall the demon at least until his brother came. And Dean would come, he always did. Granted he was really pressing his luck here - if Dean was waiting for the last minute rescue, the time had come.
The demon stood beside the bed, her gaze trailing the solid body of the youngest Winchester. She could finally say she had met them all, and after today she'd have tortured them all as well, and was saving the best for last. The most painful torture for the oldest Winchester boy would be to find his precious baby brother, carved and bleeding, barely holding on to the minuscule threads of his life.
Brushing the hair from her eyes, Beth brought the knife forward, pressing the blade into the hunter's chest. Slowly, she ran the knife down his torso, stopping at his hip. The cut wasn't deep; only a thin line of blood seeped to the surface. Listening to the barely audible whimper from the man on the bed, the woman smiled, inhaling a cleansing breath. Returning the blade to the starting point, she pressed a little harder, making a slightly deeper cut alongside the first. Halfway down Sam's chest she halted abruptly, hearing a loud crack and the sound of splintering wood.
Bethany turned to face the door as it blew off its hinges to land on the table in the centre of the room. Her brown-black eyes widened in surprise when the dark man entered the room, his threatening glare focussed on her. In less than a second he was towering over her, his large hand against her head. The demon struggled to draw in a breath, the heart of the meat suit slowing to a dangerously low rate.
Fumbling slightly, her fingers grazed the lid of the box on the stand, but she couldn't open it. Her thoughts were jumbled and she had to fight the urge to close her eyes and give into the darkness beyond her conciousness. Beth imagined the box in her mind, concentrating on what was inside. With a surge of desperation, she reached for it again. This time she got it open and grabbed the glass vial nestled inside. She quickly thumbed the cork from the top and being careful not to spill it on herself, she splashed the liquid into the dark man's face.
The young hunter had raised his head when he heard the door practically blow apart, announcing the angel's arrival. Watching Uriel grab the demon and lay his hand on her head in his vanquishing grip, Sam felt a moment of relief and sagged against the restraints. The sudden baritone screams of agony shook the young man to the core of his being, his hazel eyes staring in shock as smoke rolled off the divine being. Uriel's hands were over his face as he continued his anguished cries.
Sam turned his horrified gaze to the demon. She stood stock still, her chest heaving as she gasped for air holding the bottle firmly in one hand. Taking a shaky breath, Beth searched for the cork and quickly capped the bottle, making sure it was completely dry before shoving it into her pocket. Raising a trembling hand to her face, the demon mopped the sweat from her forehead and squared her shoulders. She retrieved the bowie knife from where she had dropped it, and advanced determinedly on the still screaming angel.
Coming to a halt in front of the massive man, Beth grabbed a fistful of his jacket and pushed him against the wall. With a shout of rage, she drove the bowie knife through the jacket, just below the vessel's armpit, and into the plaster behind him. Uriel's screams tapered off to a whimper, and he dropped his large hands to his sides.
Sam's breath caught in his throat. The larger-than-life angel looked defeated; his face and hands were burnt and the normally dark eyes were infused with a cloudy haze. Feeling his panic building, the hunter concentrated on breathing, thinking only of each inhale and exhale. After seeing what the demon could do to an angel of Uriel's stature, Sam no longer believed that he going to get out alive.
"Hurts, don't it? It's called qeres," the woman gloated. "Don't worry…there's no permanent damage to the meat." Tittering, Beth walked to the nightstand and her collection of weaponry, selected another knife and returned to the angel. "You, on the other hand, are gonna feel a bit weak and a little groggy and disorientated for quite a few days…If I let you live that long." She drove the second knife through the angel's clothes on the other side, effectively pinning him to the wall.
"Oh, I almost forgot…" The demon withdrew the vial from her pocket, holding it up for Uriel to see. "Keep your hands to yourself, and no more owies. Can you handle that, big guy?" The angel dropped his gaze in defeat, keeping his tender hands at his sides. Uncorking the container, she dripped the liquid onto the hilts of the knives. "There…Now you won't be tempted to pull them out to get free…" Holding the bottle up, she noted there was less than a quarter left.
As she recapped it, she looked into Uriel's eyes. "Gotta save that for a very special angel." Placing the bottle in her pocket, she smiled. "When are Castiel and Dean gonna get here anyway?"
Uriel grunted, turning his head away from the woman.
"Aww…Uriel. I had heard so much about you…Aren't you the Great Smiter of demons and piss-hole towns? Yet you stand here silently…I must say I'm very disappointed." Spinning on her heel, she looked at the open entryway in disgust. "Uriel, you stupid son of a bitch…You blew the damn door off its hinges," the young demon fumed. "How the hell can I play with Sammy if the whole damn world can look in?" Grabbing the door, she leaned it against its post, to shield the room from curious eyes, grumbling to herself about the inconvenience of it all.
Returning to the barely clothed hunter, she patted his leg and shook her head. "I'm sorry, hun. But Uriel has gone and ruined all our fun." She suddenly smiled. "But don't worry…once your brother and his angel get here, we'll go to a much more private place…Then we'll all have fun."
-0000-
Castiel appeared in the passenger's seat of the Impala; it had taken very little time and effort for him to find his charge. He looked at the young man in the driver's seat and felt a moment of trepidation. Dean sat unmoving, his eyes staring straight ahead, seeing nothing of the present, his face drawn and pale as he continued to relive the horrors of Hell.
The angel watched him with concerned eyes, briefly feeling a pang of sympathy for the man. Shaking off the emotions, Castiel touched Dean's forhead, willing the man back to the current time and situation. As an afterthought, the impassive angel surrounded his young charge with a quiet tranquility to ease the turmoil within his mind. Telling himself that it was because he needed the young hunter aware and focussed, and not because he had grown fond of the older Winchester, he waited patiently for Dean to return to the present.
Dean blinked slowly, squinting when he became aware of the early morning sun glaring through the windshield. He felt slightly off, not sure where he was or what he had been doing. Taking a moment to regain his bearings, the hunter began to survey the area. He realized he was still in the diner parking lot, and he wasn't alone. Tensing, he gripped the butt of the gun in his coat pocket before turning to face his company.
Exhaling in relief when he recognized his uninvited guest, Dean let go of the gun and pulled his hand from his pocket, raking it through his short sandy hair. "Damn it, Cas," he hissed. "Seriously, I'm getting you a bell."
The angel regarded the man in mild confusion. "Your brother may be in trouble," he said softly.
Dean's irritation with the angel quickly dissipated, concern for his brother taking its place. "What do you mean?" the hunter demanded. "What's wrong with Sam? Where is he? What happened?" Bringing the Impala to life as he spoke, Dean dropped the shifter in drive and peeled out of the parking lot before Castiel had a chance to answer.
"I'm not sure," Castiel responded his blue eyes watching the scenery fly by. "I could sense his fear…but I don't know what frightened him." The angel turned to the hunter, a deep sadness in his face. "I sent Uriel in to help, while I came for you."
Turning his head, Dean glared at the angel. "Uriel? You sent Uriel?" Looking back at the road, the young man grumbled angrily, "Why send any help at all? We both know how that sanctimonious son of a bitch feels about Sammy."
"Dean," Castiel spoke softly, voice devoid of emotion. "Uriel may be blunt, and obdurate in his opinions, but he is still an Angel of the Lord…and he will follow orders."
Sighing heavily, the young hunter scrubbed a hand across his jaw, focussing on the road. "Do you have any idea what we could be dealing with?"
"I'm not certain," the angel said hesitantly. "However, there was a demon trailing you. I'm not sure what she was after."
"A demon?" Dean asked incredulously. "You knew a demon was following us and you didn't think it important enough to tell us? Hell, if you were to busy you coulda sent an email or a text message…" Dean looked at his passenger. "You know, it's shit like this that makes me wonder whose side you're really on…"