2016
I really wanted to put this up so I'm not even going to wait for more reviews, two works for me lol. Like I said at the end of the last chapter, this is going to be a "flashback", thus the chapter title. And finally I shall reveal...some things.
Dean stepped out of the bedroom and zipped up his jeans. A young blond woman with glazed over hazel eyes stepped out behind him, still weak kneed from the session they had just had. She smiled dreamily as she ran her hand down Dean's chest and attempted to lean closer to him, attempted to move in for a kiss, but he moved out of the way, having none of it. He didn't kiss, simple as that.
"I'll see you later." The girl stated, bouncing back from the rejection.
"Uh huh." Dean muttered, pulling his shirt on over his head. He honestly didn't even know the girl's name. He had just seen her wandering the halls of the large extravagant house, flirted a little, then convinced her to hop in bed with him. It was what he always did. As he walked down the hallway toward the staircase, he felt nothing but some arrogance. He smirked as he went down the stairs, enjoying his life. He got to fuck any girl he wanted, got to do whatever he wanted, and when he got asked to work, he went for it because hell, the people he "worked" on deserved it.
At least that's what he believed. He was always told that the person on the table was bad, had done things and gotten away with it. The people he worked on were always men, always some middle aged guy. It was easy to believe that they were complete and utter assholes needing to be taught a lesson.
Dean's phone went off halfway down the stairs. He took it out and looked at the text message instructing him to come down to the workshop. He was ready to get down there. Today was seeming to be a good day. Sleeping all morning until well into the afternoon, fucking some hot young girl all evening, and now bringing some creep down off his high horse, doing something the worthless, good for nothing cops of the city were too gutless to do.
"I'm in Heaven..." The soft singing reached Dean's ears just as he reached the workshop. "And my heart beats so...that I can hardly speak." Dean's hand slid into the slot on the door, hit the latch and slid the door sideways to open it. "I seem to find the happiness I seek...when we're out together and we're dancing...cheek to cheek."
"Alistair." Dean announced his presence. The man that was singing paused then turned around with a smile. He was middle aged himself, his hair thinning but still brown rather then going gray. He had a slight mustache and beard growing in. He smiled and, while Dean would never admit it out loud, it was one of the most disturbing sights he had ever seen.
"Welcome." Alistair greeted. The younger man just nodded, his eyes shifting to the table behind his teacher. "We have a slight change in the program tonight."
"Oh?" Dean asked. He heard the whimpers then and froze as he began to move forward. They didn't sound like the whimpers a grown man made. They sounded like the whimpers that came from...
"This...is Satelle." Alistair introduced, stepping to the side. Dean swallowed hard the lump that had risen up in his throat. On the table, completely naked as all others had been, held down and covered by straps of leather across her chest, hips, over her wrists and ankles, and covering her mouth, was a fifteen year old girl. She had brown hair which was currently messed up in ways that looked as if someone had grabbed hold and ripped pieces out already. What caught Dean the most was when his eyes had drifted up, dodging quickly over the nakedness of her body, and fell to her eyes, they were the brightest he had ever seen. So wide, so full of fear, rimmed in red as she cried nearly soundless tears. "She's going to be our special guest this evening."
"What?" Dean asked, his voice low and rough. He didn't want this girl to hear, he didn't want her to see him, and he was more then happy for her tears likely blurring her vision, and especially happy about the fact that he knew he stood cast in shadows. With the angle she was at and the strength of the restraint across her chin and mouth, she wouldn't be able to turn her head to look at him.
"Satelle is our guest." Alistair repeated as simply as if he were announcing that he was finished eating his food.
"What the hell has she done to get in here?" Dean demanded quietly.
"You're upset." Alistair stated, ignoring the question. He patted Dean's shoulder sympathetically. "Just sit down, you don't have to participate this time." Knowing that it was a order rather then a suggestion, Dean moved to a dark corner of the room and stood there arms crossed, and just watched. Alistair moved back over to the table and patted the girl's head. "I'm back, my dear. My apprentice is just going to observe this one. But you'll meet him soon." The girl tried to yell, tried to call for help as she cried more but the leather didn't allow it. Alistair picked up a syringe from his cart of tools and flicked the glass tube. "Shh, shh, shh. There, there, it's alright. Everything's going to be just...fine." With that said, he injected the needle into the girl's arm. She yelled beneath the leather and attempted to escape.
Dean felt sick to his stomach. After all the times he had watched, all the times he had participated, not once had he ever felt this way. He ran a hand over his face, stopping it over his mouth and keeping it there, afraid he might actually vomit if the hand were to move. He stood there, one arm folded across his body, the other arm up with his hand covering his mouth, his eyes locked in the only light spot in the room. Alistair was still talking to the girl...Satelle, but his voice had grown softer, Dean couldn't hear a word. He watched Alistair lift the knife that Dean himself had used countless times on the men that had been strapped to that table.
And for the first time ever, he wondered if they truly were guilty of anything. He wondered if there had been other girls like this one that he hadn't been informed of. Was Satelle the first or just one in a long line? Alistair had another workroom, one Dean had never been allowed in, one the younger man had never bothered with. If that was the case, if there had been other girls, then why was Alistair deciding that Dean should be apart of that aspect of "work" now?
Drops of blood fell from the table to the floor, starting to form a puddle underneath. It got bigger with each passing minute but the young man knew there were plenty of ways to cut people and get a lot of blood while keeping them conscious and not letting them die. He stood there, watching the puddle grow, listening to the girls pitiful cries, watching the one hand he could see slowly unclench as she lost her strength, lost the ability to keep a fist. He stood there, listening to her finally lose consciousness.
And did nothing.
Dean Winchester had watched and listening...and did absolutely nothing. He closed his eyes tight when the realization of his idiocy hit him hard. For four months he had been with Alistair, torturing people. Had he become so hardened in that short time that, even though he felt sickened by these acts against a helpless girl, he would willingly just stand back and do nothing? Turn a blind eye to it?
The questions kept repeating long after Dean had left the workshop. He stumbled through the house, his hand still hovering up over his mouth. He turned a corner and collided with someone small. He blinked and looked down at the mousy young girl with red hair constantly pulled into a ponytail. Large glasses covered her eyes and baggy clothes hid her body. Dean had seen her around the house several times but never quite remembered her name.
"S-sorry." The girl uttered quietly, head shooting down to keep her eyes on the floor. "S-so sorry. Please...please don't tell my dad." Dean paused for a moment then remembered that this mousy little thing was Alistair's daughter. Or at least...that was the story. He couldn't be sure what to believe anymore.
"It's...no problem...don't worry." Dean muttered. For a moment the girl's head lifted up, almost as if she was going to look at him. But it quickly tilted back down and her hands clutched a textbook harder to her chest as she all but ran around the body blocking her from the safety of her own bedroom. Dean watched her go, his stomach twisting up again. Thoughts of that girl being on the table made him rush to his own room, or more specifically the washroom attached to his room with the nice toilet he could throw up in.
*SPN*SPN*SPN*
It had been three days and Dean had not once been called back to the workroom. He had attempted to go in a few times, see if Satelle was in there, but the door was always locked. Dean hadn't even been aware of the fact that the door could lock and he wondered if that actually meant if Satelle was there. For three days, he wandered around the house, bored and sick. The women were of no help because every time he looked at one of them, he just saw the teenaged girl strapped to the table, trying to call for help.
A call he ignored.
Dean spent more time in his room in those three days then he did anywhere else. If it wasn't for the fact that he knew he had to make appearances, he would have spent all day in there. He rarely slept and he didn't eat any food. Every day the floor was covered in beer bottles that were cleaned up any time he left. But no matter how much he drank, he couldn't get the sight out of his mind, couldn't get the muffled screams out of his ears.
On the fourth day, he had gone down to the workroom again. This time the door opened as it usually did. He was both happy and terrified about that. Happy, that he was able to get in, terrified at what he might see. It turned out, however, that there was nothing to see. The room was clean, spotless, and empty of any people. Dean felt his stomach twist and drop. Whenever the room was like this, it could only mean one thing. He had failed this girl that he didn't know.
"There you are." Alistair's voice made him jump. Dean spun around and blinked several times. Alistair tilted his head curiously, standing in the door way as casual as ever. "I haven't seen much of you. The girls tell me you haven't been giving them any...special attention. Is everything alright?"
"Uh...it...yeah...yeah, everything's fine." Dean lied. Alistair raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Just you know...break. Getting some me time."
"We all need that every so often, don't we?" Alistair asked, smiling. Dean nodded. "You should come join us for dinner, your favourite's being made."
"Oh...oh yeah?" Dean asked.
"Yep." Alistair replied cheerfully. "Nothing like some baby back ribs, eh?" Dean wondered if he looked as sick as he was feeling. He could do nothing but nod. Thankfully it seemed Alistair didn't notice. He just turned and led the younger man out of the room.
*SPN*SPN*SPN*
He sat on his bed late in the night, having spent a while in the washroom, throwing up the ribs he had managed to eat. His eyes resting on his cell phone which sat on the nightstand. He slowly reached over and picked it up, sliding it open and going into the contact list until he found the name that he was looking for.
"Hello?" Sam's grumpy sleepy voice had never sounded better to Dean's ears and he actually felt a tear start down his cheek. "Hello?"
"Sam." Dean choked out.
"Dean?" Sam asked.
"Yeah...yeah it's me." Dean replied.
"Oh God, where are you?" Sam asked, suddenly sounding very alert. "Where have you been? Are you okay?"
"I...no, not really." Dean replied honestly." But uh...that...that's not what matters. Listen Sam...I'm...I'm coming home."
"You are?" Sam asked, sounding exciting enough to make Dean chuckle slightly.
"Yeah...yeah I am." He answered. He turned his eyes to look out the window at the night sky, more tears drifting down his face as he fought to keep the pain from his voice. "I really...really am."
Present (2020)
The soft knock on the door made Dean jump and he looked over as Sadie carefully slipped into the room. Her legs encased in denim, her torso covered in a t-shirt with Aerosmith decorated the chest, her long blond hair flowing down over her shoulders and her blue eyes gazing softly at him.
"Well Sam's going to be okay." Sadie spoke, snapping Dean's attention yet again. "He actually seems a little relieved to be through with Ruby. I think he was starting to realize that you and Cas were right."
"When did you dye your hair?" Dean asked, completely ignoring what was just said about his brother.
"I...what?" Sadie asked.
"When did you dye your hair?" Dean repeated.
"I've...never dyed my hair here." Sadie replied.
"But you have dyed before." Dean stated.
"How do you know?" Sadie asked.
"It used to be brown didn't it?" Dean asked.
"That grew out." Sadie replied, starting to feel uncomfortable. "All the brown was...was cut off a while ago. And how do you know that?"
"We didn't just meet, Sadie." Dean muttered miserably.
"What are you talking about?" Sadie asked. "Yes we did, a few weeks ago." She started moving to the bed.
"Don't!" Dean snapped, halting her movements. He didn't have to look at her to know she looked pained. But he couldn't look at her. He couldn't bring himself to do it. "You shouldn't be near me."
"What? Why not?" Sadie asked.
"I'm a bad man." Dean muttered.
"What?" Sadie asked, sounding incredibly disbelieving. "That's insane, you're not bad."
"Yes I am." Dean argued.
"No...you're not." Sadie insisted. "You're one of the nicest, best guys that I know."
"Don't say that, you don't know." Dean grumbled.
"What don't I know?" Sadie asked. Dean sighed and looked at his hands. "Dean? Tell me."
"I'm not good." Dean muttered.
"And why not?" Sadie asked hands on her hips. She got no response, making her frown. "Dean Winchester, tell me right now why you think this! What could you have possibly done to make you think..."
"BECAUSE I DIDN'T SAVE YOU!" Dean snapped finally, jumping to his feet and moving right up to Sadie. She jumped in surprise and stepped back, her back hitting the wall. She gazed up at Dean with wide eyes that were almost copies of the eyes from four years ago. "I heard you...crying. Heard you begging. Watched you bleed. Watched you lose strength. And I...didn't...do anything."
The room fell absolutely silent.
I posted last chapter at about 3:30am and finished this chapter an hour later because I had it all in my head and I had to put it down right then or else I was afraid I'd forget it. I am glad I'm unemployed or else I'd be screwing myself over big time with my lack of sleep.