(Okay, looks like I have an apology to make! I'm so sorry for not posting last night! I had every intention of writing and posting the next chapter! But I got back from work and completely zonked out, flat out asleep! But! I have tried to redeem myself by posting a nice big chunky chapter! I hope it's okay, and I hope you can forgive me!)
Dean stumbled sideways, as who ever had hold of him dragged him at a quick pace. The tight grip on his collar made his shirt pull tight around his neck and it was a struggle to catch a lungful of breath, his eyes still half closed and in a daze, Dean was led blindly.
He heard a door unlock and glanced up, a shed? His brow furrowed in confusion and he dared a look at whatever it was that hauled him there.
Oh you have got to be kidding me! Dean was tempted to roll his eyes, but it was too cliché. Son of a bitch, this is so not real.
Dean chuckled to himself.
"What the hell do you think you're laughing at son?" John growled at Dean and let go of him giving him a shove further inside and turning to lock the door.
Dean stumbled into the back wall with a grunt of pain and stood on shaking legs, he squinted at the man standing before him, dad, not dad, whatever he was, Dean knew his brain was playing tricks on him, but this seemed to be one hallucination that he wouldn't mind if Sam let him live it.
"Dean, answer me boy! What the hell is going on?" John's voice was stern, it was an order, and it held authority. Dean hadn't realised how much he missed it until now.
"Sorry Sir. A hunt gone wrong, messed me up bad, but we're fixing it dad." Dean answered, voice holding as steady as he could and standing up a little straighter, good soldier mode had been turned on to its full, and Dean had gone from running the show to being dutiful.
"I'm barley gone, and you're already messing up! I knew I couldn't trust you!" John's voice increased in volume and Dean averted his eyes.
"You can't even handle a hunt! And what's that shit I can smell? You smell like the back alley of a bar. Get your shit together Dean!" John snarled at his son and took a threatening step forwards. Perhaps it's time Sam woke me up now, Dean thought bitterly, he knew it was too good to be true.
"And where the hell is Sam? If I can't trust you on a silly little hunt, how can I trust you with Sam? You're supposed to be the responsible one! How many times do I have to tell you, he's your responsibility!" John took another two steps forward and was poking a finger in Dean's face.
Dean was pressed up against the wall of the shed, he couldn't get closer to it if he tried. He felt a speck of John's spit on his cheek as his dad barked into his face. John's finger then prodded Dean in his chest.
"Am I gonna have to teach you another lesson?" John lowered his voice, and as much as he tried to hold it in, Dean trembled and bit his cheek.
"Cat got your tongue son? I thought we were done with these days." The tone of John's voice was enough to put the fear of god in any man.
Dean looked at the ground and prayed for Sam to wake him up.
John turned his back to his son and stepped away, that's when Dean heard the sound of the belt buckled being undone and his heart began racing.
"Dad, c'mon, I'm sorry, I know I messed up, I'll do better next time I swear! And Sammy's great! He really is sir!" Dean's words tumbled out of his mouth, all steadiness he had before was lost.
John bowed his head for a moment, his back still to Dean as he slid his belt from the loops, a cold grin painted his face as his eyes danced with anticipation.
This was not the dad Dean remembered. Sure, there were punishments, but not like this.
"Dean, take off your jacket." It was a direct order. No question about it.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut and nodded letting out a small 'yessir'. His body ached and every movement made him cringe, but he did as he was directed.
"And the shirt, Dean. Then face the wall." His dad's voice was cold, much colder than anything he'd heard before. It almost sounded excited. There was something off, but Dean was too far gone to pick up on this, the small movements had caused pain to cloud his brain. He did as he was commanded.
Dad, or not dad, turned around and laid eyes on his 'son', he folded the belt in two and lifted his arm. Dean sucked in a deep breath in anticipation and shut his eyes. Sam, Sammy, c'mon, you gotta wake me up man, I can't do this again, Sam!
Dean's knees nearly buckled beneath him, the blow came down hard and fast. The shock hit him first, and then came the sting, the deep burning sensation running the length of the laceration, his vision blurred for a moment before he regained his senses.
"Please, dad-!" Dean's voice came out small, his throat still burned and the heavy breathing was only making it worse.
Strike two.
Dean hissed, trying his best not to cry out in pain, it would only cause his dad to think less of him, he couldn't let him see how weak he had gotten.
Strike three.
That did it. On a good day, Dean could last a lot longer, but he was already done in. His knees buckled and he winced as the hard floor came into contact with his knee caps, he lowered his head forward so his forehead was pressed against the wall and whispered 'no more, please.'
John chose to ignore this. His eyes flashed black and he grinned, he was having too much fun. This was his favourite kind of situation. Whenever somebody was infection with the soul eater, he wasn't far behind. Over the years, he had learned how to work with them and knew how to torture the souls of those who were damned.
Dean's eyes were streaming, and with the next hit, he couldn't help but yelp out in pain. He knew his back would be red raw and he could feel the skin starting to tighten and blister. Black spots were starting to block his vision. Damn, Sam, where are you? I need you man. Sam, Sammy, wake me up, damn you!
Strike five was different.
He hadn't expected it.
It wasn't just the leather belt. Dean recoiled and pressed his raw chest to the wall, his back went into spasms as the cold metal buckle struck his back, biting into an already blistering laceration and breaking the skin.
"Argghh, Sam, please, Sammy!"His plea came out raw and scratchy. He couldn't think straight, he just needed someone, he needed Sam. He needed reality back.
His breath came ragged now, lungs burning, he coughed up more blood as pain racked his body causing his insides to twist and his stomach contracted and he began to heave.
Sam paced up and down searching for anything that could hide Dean, this can't be happening. Bobby is gonna kill me. He'll string me up for this. Shit, Sam, focus on Dean, c'mon, you're better than this, find the trail, stop being so crap, LOOK.
Dean was not answering his phone. Typical. Sam should be used to this by now. He searched the area around the car, looking for tyre tracks, anything, any clue. But his brain was running on over drive and he couldn't think straight, not with Dean missing and in a fragile state.
It must have been ten minutes before Sam heard a noise that sounded vaguely like Dean, the fact it sounded like he was crying out in pain, well, that caused Sam to come out in a cold sweat.
Huge beacon to every demon.
Sam followed the noise, stealth mode on, demon knife in hand, palms sweaty.
Ripe for the picking.
His heart felt like it was going to punch through his rib cage as he neared an old storage shed. How had he not seen this before? It was obvious. Sam needed to get his head in the game, he needed to be more level headed, what he really needed was to get Dean to Bobby because he was proving useless.
An easy kill.
Sam had heard enough. The moment he heard Dean cry his name he knew he couldn't linger outside any longer. There was no way to further prepare himself, and definitely no time to.
Sam kicked the door down and didn't wait for any clarification, some sonovabitch he'd never seen before was towering over Dean, belt in hand, Sam charged him, not giving the demon a chance to react and stabbed him square in the jugular.
Anger bubbled up in the younger Winchester and he growled as he ripped the knife back out of him.
"Get back to hell, where you belong!" Sam's voice was dark, he was in protective mode.
"Sam! You killed him! What the fuck man! We only just got him back again!" Dean was sprawled on the floor, hunched over and a pained expression on his face.
"Dean, what are you talking about?" Sam frowned and bent down to face Dean.
"Dad! Sam, you just killed dad!" Dean was getting more and more upset by the second.
"Woah, Dean, hang on, just breath, please. That wasn't dad." Sam tried to calm his brother, but he was becoming hysterical.
"Yes it was. I saw him." Dean replied stubbornly, breathe hitching as he tried to come to terms with Sam killing their dad.
"Dean, would Dad ever hurt you like that?" Sam tried a different approach and Dean cocked his head to one side.
"I-I- don't know." Dean stared up into Sam's eyes looking lost, his eyes looked as though the tears might over flow and Sam could see the track marks down his face from where they had been watering moments ago.
"C'mon Dean, let's get out of here." Sam tried to coax Dean slowly, but he wanted to rush, he needed to get back on the road before they encountered another demon.
Dean nodded a little, not quite sure what was going on, trying to piece together what was reality and what was in his head.
"So this is real?" Dean asked. The question caught Sam off guard as he draped Dean's jacket around his shoulders.
"What do you mean?" Sam asked carefully.
"I'm in here, with my back all messed up." Dean indicated with a nod that pulled on his skin sending shockwaves through his tender back and he let out a stream of curse words.
"Yes, Dean, you are, and we need to get you out of here." He replied, trying to be a little stern and instil some urgency into his brother.
"And dad?" Dean questioned, it was almost inaudible.
"Hey, Dean, look at me." Sam took his brothers face into his hands and made Dean look him in the eye.
"Dad isn't here, he never was. Dad would never hurt you like that. You hear me?" He nodded in response and pulled himself up with Sam's help.
This time, Dean was relegated to the back seat. He was laid on his side as he couldn't lean back, and couldn't lie face down. He must be uncomfortable. Sam felt guilty, he shouldn't have left Dean alone, and now he'd suffered further pain.
An awkward silence filled the car, they'd been on the road another two hours, and Dean was in a grump. He wanted to sleep, but Sam wouldn't let him, not until they got to Bobby's at least. So, with Dean not speaking to Sam, it was hard for him to keep tabs on whether Dean was awake or asleep, and the more Sam checked, the grumpier Dean became.
(So, how was it? Had enough of Dean being tortured yet? Nope? Good! ;) Gah, I can't wait to get the next chapter out! It's time to bring Bobby into it properly! And remember guys, please review and leave comments! I'd love to know where I can improve! And don't forget its my first SPN fic! Until tomorrow! Hopefully get a good bit posted over the weekend :) )
