Chapter 11

Sam and Bobby watched helplessly as the pair of evil blonde twins scuttled about the room without saying a word to them or to each other as they either silently stoked the already ridiculously raging fire in the hearth that made it nearly tropical in the room or removing items from one corner to the other that may potentially, even if only remotely, be used as a weapon of some kind should Dean not be as cooperative as they all suspected he would be. Wooden picture frames with glass faces depicting a once seemingly happy, blonde haired, blue eyed family of five standing before the very same fireplace the photos adorned the mantle of, or smiling happily on the deck of a large sailboat that seemed to be cruising the open waters of some unknown lake in the bright summer sunlight were tossed aside without a second thought, the women that discarded them so carelessly being the very same women depicted in each and every one of them…well, their bodies anyway. Those women were long since dead now, there was no saving them.

It took the two of them quite some time, but they eventually emptied the room of just about everything it contained but the furniture that Iliana had shoved to the sides, and as Sam hung there like a fish on a hook with nothing to stare at but the old bloodstain his brother's dying body had left behind as it lay bleeding in the trap, he wished he had a free hand to rub his eyes when he thought he saw the dark spot embedded in the wood start to do a ghoulish sort of dance in the flickering light of the flames. Shifting his eyes forcefully away from the offending mark to the daggers buried in the floor in front of Bobby instead, he was convinced he'd stay true to his earlier word when he realized one of those weapons had been buried deep in Dean's ribs by their own father, and if those demon bitches had their way, would be again, but by his brother's own hand this time. It took everything he had in him to stop his stomach from churning, and he really didn't know if he could do it much longer, considering his mind really had nowhere else to wander anymore.

Bobby had also gone utterly silent as he stared, wanting more than anything to talk to Sam, but not wanting to give either woman the satisfaction of hearing him express what was going through his mind. Each and every thought that marched past his brain was followed by an even darker, more sinister one, and he couldn't stop them from coming one after another until he was about ready to throw up right along with Sam. Her words echoing in his head prompted each addition to the current string of negativity, starting with her crack about Dean knowing what was in store for his little brother. He desperately wanted to know what she had meant by that. Obviously John had known something, and had somehow relayed it to Dean before he had doomed himself to the pits hell, but he had apparently not felt the need to share it with anyone else. It didn't surprise him though; he and John hadn't really been on speaking terms for quite some time, the downhill slide between the two of them starting that very day ten years before and progressively gaining speed over time until they could finally no longer bear to look at one another anymore, let alone be in the same room together. He also knew asking Sam would be pointless, because there was no way in heaven or hell that Dean would share that little secret with his baby brother. That was one thing the Winchesters could do with perfection…keep secrets.

She had also told them that Dean had been, for the most part, dead. Had it not been for her keeping the reaper away, he would be nothing but ashes scattered to the wind and a painful memory to both he and Sam. They had not 'almost' killed Dean, they had actually 'killed' him, and he truly was living on borrowed time, and not just once but twice in his short life. Borrowed up until this point, when it was payback time, and she intended on collecting…with interest. He'd lost track of time after that thought made him feel even more sick then he already did, not that he could even tell what time it really was, but he had noticed when both women had silently left the room, and jumped at the opportunity to finally question Sam.

"You ok kid?" He asked him first, fully aware by the look on the other man's face that he wasn't, but asking anyway.

"No Bobby, I'm not ok. They're gonna kill Dean, no, wait, let me rephrase that, they are going to make Dean kill himself, and there isn't a damn thing we can do to stop it, is there?" He replied with a look of fear in his eyes.

"I don't know Sam, I just don't know," Bobby said dejectedly. From the positions they were both currently in, there really was nothing either one of them could do but witness the horror.

"This is all Dad's fault, you know?" Sam told Bobby, the sound of fear in his voice being replaced with what the older man thought to be something close to hatred and disgust.

"How do you figure that?"

"Before he died, he told Dean something, something about me, something I had to practically pry from …" There it was, brought up without him even having to ask, and Bobby hung on every word Sam said as he momentarily paused to gather his thoughts. "He made Dean promise that if he couldn't save me, he'd have to kill me. You heard what she said. Dean can save me by saying yes, and you know that he'd go to his grave to keep that promise to Dad. Do the math Bobby, two plus two makes four. He'll do whatever they say if he thinks he's got any chance of saving me from whatever fate I'm supposed to be destined for, even die."

As much as Bobby wanted to argue with him, he couldn't deny that everything Sam had just said was undeniably true. Dean's unbridled loyalty to his father had not died when the man himself had passed, and the nearly obsessive compulsion to protect Sam that John had instilled in him probably never would. Both were ingredients in a recipe that would give a little part of the demon world exactly what they wanted and they knew it, and the way Bobby saw it, they were all screwed.

"There isn't a damn thing we can do, is there?" Sam said with a heavy hearted sigh, somehow knowing that utter defeat was only hours away.

"No, there isn't anything you can do," Ilsa had interrupted as she stared both men down. She had quietly reentered the room with her now silent shadow right behind her, both women carrying a small pail with them. Ilsa approached Sam with that disgusting smile that he just wanted to smack right off her face, and she knew it, which only made her want to smile even more. "Sam, you're not overly fond of that shirt you're wearing, are you?"

He eyed her suspiciously, wondering where the hell that idiotic question had come from, and actually had to look down at himself when he realized he had no clue what he was wearing. His stomach started turning again when he noticed what he had on wasn't even his, and it turned him temporarily stupid, leaving him with no ability to think of anything wise ass to say. "It's Dean's,so yeah, I am," was all that came out, the words making him fall silent again.

"Well, in that case, I guess it doesn't really matter what we do to it since he's not going to need it anymore," she snickered before slowly reaching into the tiny bucket she carried, and Sam could distinctly hear the sloshing of the viscous fluid inside. She brought a small sponge to his face, and judging by the smell of it, it was saturated with blood, and not fresh blood. She brushed it gently against the top of his head as she squeezed it lightly, allowing the red fluid to seep out and flow freely through his hair and down his face until it rolled off his chin and onto his chest, making the trail it left nothing but a sticky, wet mess. The smell was more than overpowering, and Sam could feel his stomach twist and lurch as she dipped the sponge back in the bucket, then pressed it firmly against him again, this time directly on his upper chest, leaving a large, wet spot covering his shoulder that sent blood dripping down his arm. That had been the straw that finally broke the camel's back, and suddenly anything and everything that had still been in Sam's stomach was either on his chin, shirt or pants, making the smell ten times worse than it had already been. "Thanks Sam, that'll add to the already gruesome sight you've become. Now, if we could just get Bobby here to do the same…"

She stood back and surveyed her and Isabel's handiwork, quite pleased with the results they had achieved. Both men were now covered in what looked like their own blood as if they had somehow been tortured to near death over the last few hours and been left hanging to marinate in their own juices. The girls weren't quite finished though, they still had two more very important details to attend to before the scene was set to complete perfection. As Ilsa went back to the fire and piled one piece of wood after another on the top of the already hearty blaze, Isabel ventured into the farthest corner of the room and into the dark. Both men heard something that sounded rather odd to their ears, and as it continued in speed, the dark that enveloped the entire room started slowly giving way to an intense bright light as the ceiling and roof opened up to the crisp, cool, outside air and bright sunshine overhead. The fire that had been heating the entire room suddenly didn't seem very hot anymore as both men felt a hard chill course up their spines, noticing the harsh, single ray of light that landed on the floor just outside the trap.

"Holy shit, it's morning already," Bobby couldn't hold back as his eyes tried adjusting from almost total dark to sheer blinding light. Once he could see again, he cringed when he saw Iliana had returned.

"Yes, it's morning already Bobby, really late morning anyway. My, how time flies when you're having fun, right? It looks like everything's just about ready, all we need is one more very important thing…" she paused in her oratory when she heard the sounds of nails scratching against the hard wood floor and opened her arms wide to greet her latest arrival.

Sam's mouth dropped when he saw the gigantic black dog race into the room. It was nearly the size of a small horse, or at least it looked that way as it reared up on its hind legs and greeted its obvious mistress face to face with a briskly wagging tail and overly excited pant. Every comment the woman made was answered by a deep, throaty bark, and if Sam didn't know better, he'd think she was actually talking to the beast, and understanding it.

"Good morning Rasputin, or should I say afternoon?…What's that you say, you woke poor Dean…Good boy. He's not feeling very well this morning, well, we'll see if we can take care of that for him, won't we? I'm sure it won't keep him from being here in no time flat once he sees what we left behind for him at the door though. You've done well, now go…watch from the window and alert us when he's coming," she praised first, then commanded. When the animal was finally out of eyeshot, she turned her attention back to Sam and Bobby. "Well, sounds like that one more important thing will be coming to join the party, good thing too; the festivities need to get started soon. You are anxious to see your brother, aren't you Sam? I'm sure he's anxious to see you, and you too Bobby. He does care for you so much, it's almost disgusting."

"You'll never get away with this, you bitch. I'll hunt you both down if it's the last thing I do, I swear…" Sam seethed, the anger rising in the pit of his stomach making his ears start to turn a bright shade of red.

"Such language Sam. You'll hunt us down and do what? Exorcise your precious brother free from our grasp? I'm afraid that just isn't going to happen Sam. You see, once Belial takes possession of Dean, the power of the eclipse will bond the two of them together for all eternity, or until Belial is ready to move on. If it's any consolation, at least your brother's physical form will live to a ripe, old age, even if his soul doesn't. He's going to enjoy that body very much. Who could resist all that raw strength he has?" She laughed heartily when she noticed the looks on both of their faces, and couldn't help but get one more dig in before silencing them both. "What's the matter, missed that minor detail in John's journal? Guess you should have been paying more attention, then maybe you would have known you were walking into a little more than just a simple human sacrifice to some crazy ass pagan god. That is what you thought, isn't it, Bobby? Never mind, I don't want to hear it anyway."

She motioned to the girls to finish their one and only remaining task, and as Iliana took the bucket of blood from Ilsa to pour what was remained inside it over her own chest and back, her underlings proceeded to wrap duct tape around both men's faces until their mouths could no longer utter any kind of sound but a silent scream.

"I sure hope you don't feel the need to vomit again Sam, that could get very ugly, and I'm sorry you guys won't get to actually say goodbye to Dean, but I really can't have you warning him in any way that what he does today will be forever. He'll always think in the back of his mind that Bobby, or even you Sam, will try to free him, so we'll just let him keep thinking that way," she ranted, until the bark echoing through the entire house silenced her. She smiled as she watched a tear stream down Sam's face, then just dropped her body to the floor at his feet and waited.

Dean was coming.