I can't believe it's the end of the month already! Here's an extra long one-shot for you guys today.
Set Season 12 but kinda AU
31. "Today's Special: Torture"
(Experiment, whipped, left for dead)
It was a dark night. Moonlight caught the blood trickling across the asphalt as the echoing of a gunshot permeated the atmosphere.
Dean Winchester lay on the road, bullet in his chest.
The van spun away into the night, not turning back.
Everything was still, the moonlight ambivalent to the scene it was shining upon.
Then Dean's fingers twitched.
A deep, wrenching gasp was drawn into his lungs and Dean's body shuddered as he rolled onto his side, dragging air into his lungs.
"Son of a bitch," he croaked, reaching up to press his hand to the bullet hole in his chest with a wince. Somehow by some miracle, it seemed to have missed anything vital, lodging against a rib. Dean wasn't sure who or what he had to thank for this; maybe his sternum. Probably Arthur Ketch's sadism. After all, killing him with a headshot would have been too quick for that bastard.
"Sam," Dean called hoarsely, looking around, coughing. "Cas?"
They weren't lying beside him. He craned his head around and saw the Impala, door still open from where he had gotten out. He dragged himself to his feet and staggered over to the car, looking inside.
Not there either.
Dean cursed. Of course. Ketch had them both, he had to, and the British bastard had just left Dean here, lying in the road, thinking—stupidly—that he was dead.
Well, it wasn't going to be a good day for Ketch, because he wasn't. And he'd taken Dean's brothers. And that was something that wasn't easily forgiven.
He struggled to open the trunk of the car, grabbing some first aid stuff as he fought the urge to pass out from the pain. He breathed steadily and sank into the Impala, grabbing his phone.
He may not know exactly where the Men of Letters' base was, but he knew who would.
The call went through and was thankfully picked up after only a couple rings.
"Dean?"
"Mom," Dean croaked, rummaging through the med kit. "That bastard Ketch and the Brits took Sammy and Cas."
"What?"
"I need to know where their base is," Dean gritted his teeth, hissing slightly as he peeled his shirt up, holding it between his teeth briefly as he pressed a cloth to the wound to try and stop the bleeding.
"Dean, are you okay? Where are you?"
Dean looked around, and took the shirt out of his mouth. "Doesn't matter, just text me the location."
"Dean, I'm not far, I'm coming. You'll need help. Trust me, there's no way you'll get in there by yourself. But I can."
Dean bit his lip, but yeah, he knew she was right. "Okay." He told her where he was and she hung up.
Dean sat back, bracing himself as he closed his eyes briefly. Then he tilted the rearview mirror so he could see better and grabbed a pair of tweezers then went to work. He was going to have to get this bullet out before he took on the Men of Letters to save his family.
XXX
Sam couldn't see anything. He was being dragged around several corners, stumbling between two captors. They'd dosed him with something and it was messing with his head, making him clumsy. Images from how he had gotten into this situation swirled in his head.
"We're taking you in," Ketch said, standing nonchalantly in front of the van that had pulled up in the middle of the road, blocking the Impala.
"Like hell you are," Dean spat.
Ketch only sighed as if it were all just an inconvenience. "Sorry, but it's the Old Men. They want you taken in for misconduct and for interrogation. If you resist, well, needless to say, it's not going to go well for you."
"It's not going to go well for you if you try to take us by force either," Dean snarled.
He was already reaching for his gun, when Ketch straight up pulled on Dean and shot him in the chest. It happened so fast Sam didn't even know what had happened until Cas was rushing toward Dean.
"Dean!" The angel didn't make it either, something exploded and Sam had to turn away, before seeing the angel lying on the ground, Ketch's men hauling him up.
"Cas! Dean!" Sam cried, and reached for his own gun, but Ketch had his own trained on the younger Winchester.
"I wouldn't, Sam," he said. "You had best be smart."
Sam was about to try for it anyway, but two men tackled him and started hauling him into the van along with Cas.
"No!" Sam struggled, as a bag was forced over his head and he was slammed into the side of the van, cuffs around his wrists. "Get off!"
He was shoved into the back of the van on his stomach, forced down, and something was injected into his neck.
Sam cried out, and blinked as all the fight left him forcefully. All he could think of was Dean, lying in the road, a hole in his chest…
Sam was shoved heavily into a chair and the bag over his head was taken off. He blinked, cringing in the sudden bright florescent light.
Ketch was standing in front of him, and patted his cheek roughly. "Come on, then. Wake up, Sam. Can't have you passing out on us so soon."
Sam groaned, and glowered up at the Brit. "Where's Cas?"
Ketch snorted. "The angel? Oh, I wouldn't worry about him. He'll be a great asset to our research team."
Sam surged forward, furious and terrified for Cas, but the other men slammed him back into the seat.
"You've been a very naughty boy; you and your brother," Ketch told him.
Sam swallowed hard, trying not to let his emotions show. He didn't know Dean was dead. He hadn't seen it. He'd just seen him get shot. But still, the blood…
"Oh, don't bother yourself with false hope. No one's coming for you," Ketch said. "But, I will give you the choice to join us. If you repent after your punishment, then I am definitely willing to be lenient."
"You think I'm going to join you?" Sam demanded darkly. "After everything? Yeah, okay, at first I thought it might be a good idea, but I see what you are now. And now all I want to do is kill you."
Ketch sighed wearily. "Well, I suppose that's fair after what I did to your brother. But do understand, Sam, that we will keep you here anyway, until you do what we want. One way or another. However, I am willing to give you the chance to join us under your own volition before we take any drastic measures, and I think a bit of old-fashioned corporal punishment would be a good place to start."
One of the men came over, carrying an actual bullwhip, which he handed to Ketch. The man took it and smirked as he cracked it experimentally and Sam flinched.
"Really, Sam, this is barely a slap to the wrist when it comes to the Letters' punishments. You should count yourself lucky."
Sam was hauled to his feet and divested of his jacket and plaid shirt before he was slammed against the wall and his hands manacled above his head.
He craned his head over his shoulder to see Ketch and the man looked all too pleased with himself. Sam's breath began to come quicker and sharper, before he tried to force the panic down but it wasn't as easy as one would think. One of the guards took out a knife and grabbed the back of Sam's shirt, slashing it open so that the cold air hit Sam's bare back, making him shiver from cold and trepidation.
He didn't know if Dean was okay, he had no idea where Cas was or what was happening to him. And he hadn't been whipped since he'd been with Lucifer in the Cage. Of course, that had been with fire, but…
The whip cracked and seared across Sam's shoulders. He let out a small, bitten-off cry and tensed.
"Do let me know when you feel repentant, Sam," Ketch said darkly as he raised the whip again.
XXX
Castiel woke to a blinding light, lying on his back on a hard surface.
Someone moved around him and he reached out to grab them, only to find he couldn't move. His wrists and ankles were locked to the table he was lying on, and something was covering his mouth so he couldn't make a noise.
Even more horrifying was that he suddenly realized that his clothes were gone and he was only covered by a small blanket across his hips.
"The subject is conscious," someone said and the light shifted, pointed directly into his eyes. He winced and closed them, furious.
"Do you think we need another dose?" someone else asked.
"No, this one shouldn't have worn off yet. Besides, the subject should be awake for this. How else are we going to get accurate readings?"
Castiel's heart began to pound laboriously and he tugged as hard as he could against the restraints. But he seemed incredibly weak. Whatever they had given him obviously worked all too well on angels.
Muddled memories began to resurface. The Men of Letters had stopped them on the road, and when they had gotten out…
Dean.
Castiel tugged harder, making a sound of fury past the gag in his mouth. Dean had been shot. And then he had been stabbed in the neck with a syringe with something immobilizing. What about Sam then? Where was he? What had they done to him? And Dean, was Dean even still…
"Are you still recording this?" said one of the—were they doctors?
No, obviously not, he realized a second later. These must be the Letters' scientists, which meant Castiel was nothing but an experiment to them.
"Yes," the other replied.
The first scientist nodded and reached over to a tray, taking up some kind of instrument that looked all too familiar. "Beginning test one of ten in our current project—'Halo'. The subject has been subdued efficiently and we will begin with the angelic grace extraction before moving on to our other points and ending with the vivisection."
Castiel's eyes flew wide, and he tugged at the restraints again, but they were sigiled and between that and whatever they had drugged him with, he would have no chance of getting free.
All he could do was watch in horror as the scientist pierced into his arm with the grace removing syringe.
XXX
Dean shook himself to stay alert, but god, he hurt. Every breath was like fire. Even if the bullet had been stopped by a rib, the bone had definitely sacrificed itself for him. He was just trying to stay as calm as possible, reserve his adrenaline for when he needed it. And it wasn't easy staying calm when Sam and Cas were both kidnapped by the insane British Men of Letters and Ketch.
"Dean, are you sure you're okay? Be honest," his mom told him.
He glanced over at her. He'd already let her convince him to drive, though now, his palms were itching for the wheel and his foot for the pedal, even though she was taking Baby as fast as she would go.
"I don't have a choice," Dean said. It's not like they had time to call in help. They didn't know how long Sam and Cas had. "I've had worse."
His mom looked over at him, with an amount of pity that Dean didn't like to see so he turned aside and looked out the window.
The road was empty and dark. It was the middle of the night and no one else was out and about this far outside of…anywhere.
"We'll get them back, Dean," his mom said quietly after a long second.
"Yeah, we will," Dean growled under his breath. Because there was no way they would be leaving that compound without the rest of their family. Dean wasn't going to have that. And as for Arthur Ketch…well, if the night didn't end with Dean putting a bullet between his eyes, then he might as well go down swinging.
Those Brits were going to find out really quick what happens to those who mess with the Winchesters.
XXX
Sam slumped, panting, against the wall, his weight pulling down on the manacles around his wrists, drawing blood. His back was singing in pain and his legs were trembling, fighting to keep him upright.
Ketch strode toward him, leaning in, and threading his fingers through his hair before hauling his head back. Sam let out a grunt of protest. "Well, Sam? Have you learned your lesson?"
Sam craned his head to glower at Ketch. "Screw you." He spat, and the saliva landed on Ketch's shoulder.
The man curled his lip in disgust and slammed Sam's face against the wall before taking his handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaning his shirt. "Disgusting. You American hunters are no better than animals."
Sam forced his head back up, blood running from his nose and broken lip. "Yeah, well, at least we're not psychopaths."
Ketch sniffed and reached for Sam's raw back, digging his fingers into some of the deeper cuts that the whip had created.
Sam arched his back, unable to suppress the cry that escaped his throat. He locked his knees and just barely managed to stay upright.
"I can see you are not at all sorry yet," Ketch commented. "Time for another lesson, I suppose." He didn't seem at all disappointed in that.
Ketch stepped back and Sam braced himself for another round of torture, biting his lip to keep the prick of fear and helplessness from making his eyes water.
A cry escaped his throat as the lash burned across his back again and again and again, and he was lost in a sea of agony.
XXX
The compound seemed pretty quiet when Dean and his mom pulled up, stopping pretty far down the road and inspecting it through binoculars.
"How many do you think are in there right now?" Dean asked.
Mary shook her head. "No telling. Usually there's about three or four guards who patrol the perimeter. But there could be anywhere from ten to twenty operatives in there at any time. Maybe more if they're not out on hunts.
Dean cursed, leaning against the car to try and ease some of the pain from his injury. He knew they didn't have the firepower to take on that many alone. Not while getting Sam and Cas out too. "You think they'll let you in the gate?"
Mary pressed her lips into a thin line. "Maybe. I don't think I've given them reason yet to distrust me."
"Well, let's try it."
"But you're supposed to be dead," Mary reminded him before he could climb into the car. "Get in the back, and I'll cover you with a blanket."
Dean nodded and got in, lying down as his mom hid him with the blanket. It was cramped and claustrophobic, but he really hoped this would work.
Mary drove up to the gate and stopped. Dean held his breath as the Letters guard came over.
"Hey, just have some stuff to drop off to R&D," Mary said, nodding to the lump that was Dean in the back.
"Hold on," the guard said.
Dean clutched his gun to his chest, waiting for more guards to rush them as the man got on his radio. He couldn't hear what he was saying.
"What's the hold up?" Mary demanded. "It's late, I want to get home."
There was a long pause, but then the guard said, "You can go."
The gate opened and Mary drove through and around the compound, presumably to a place there might not be as many guards.
When she finally brought the car to a halt she patted Dean and he pulled the blanket off, sitting up with a wince.
"We good?" he asked.
"For now," she said. "But your car isn't exactly inconspicuous. If Ketch sees it, he'll know what's up."
Yeah, but they didn't really have a choice, their entire arsenal was in the trunk. Dean got out and went around to open it, grabbing everything they would need—including the grenade launcher.
His mom didn't even bother saying anything about it.
"Let's go," Dean said, closing the trunk.
He was glad he'd called his mom in once they got into the compound, because it was kind of a maze and he was sure you could get lost and cornered in here if you didn't know where you were going.
"Where do you think they'd keep them?" Dean asked his mom quietly as they crept through the hallways. "Is there like a cell block or something?" He was sure that there was. Or worse.
Mary pressed her lips together in thought. "I don't know. If Ketch is interrogating them…"
Dean's stomach twisted at the thought and anger flooded him. "Yeah, that bastard."
"Dean, I'm sorry," Mary said sincerely. "If I had known, I never would have gotten involved in this."
"Mom, now's not the time for that," Dean told her. "But it's not your fault. It's just…we've all been idiots."
Mary gave him a small, sad smile and they continued onward until Dean suddenly heard voices and held out his hand for his mom to halt. They crept toward the door and listened.
"I'll give you some time to think it over, I have other things to see to at the moment."
Ketch's voice, and his footsteps coming toward the door. Dean grabbed his mom and pulled her back around a corner as the door opened and Ketch strode out, making his way in the opposite direction.
Dean let out a breath, the anxiety causing his chest to tighten, which was not good for his injuries.
"Let's check this out," he said grimly and they crept back toward the room.
Mary cursed. "It's locked."
"Well, then…" Dean simply raised his hand and knocked on the door.
There were a couple seconds before footsteps came over, and it opened, revealing one of the Letters' guards in combat gear.
Dean wasted no time in clubbing him in his head with the butt of his shotgun and shoving him back into the room before stepping inside.
To a sight that made his chest ache even more.
"Sammy," he breathed, rushing toward the far wall.
His brother was hanging there by his wrists, legs no longer supporting him. He'd been stripped to the waist and his back was a mess of blood and cuts. No, whip marks, Dean realized as he saw a discarded bullwhip lying on a table, blood coating the braided leather.
Mary gasped, and came to help Dean, grabbing the key to the cuffs holding Sam.
Sam's head was hanging between his shoulders, seemingly unconscious as Dean reached out to support him carefully while their mom undid his hands.
Sam slumped heavily, bringing him and Dean both to the ground. Dean grunted, the fall jarring his body, but he caught Sam against him, glancing over his shoulder at the wreck that was his back.
"Sammy," he murmured, cupping a hand against the back of Sam's head, not knowing where else to touch him.
Sam stirred with a whimper, and craned his head up, blinking in confusion.
"D-Dean?" Then recognition set in and his eyes widened. "Dean! Thank god!"
"I'm okay, little brother," Dean told him gently.
"Thought he'd killed you," Sam whispered, reaching up to clumsily grip at Dean's jacket with a swollen hand.
"Hey, you know I'm not going to let some Limey bastard cap me like that," Dean gave him a smile. "We're here to get you out. You know where Cas is?"
Mary helped him pull Sam to his feet and he staggered, leaning heavily on both of them with a hiss.
"I—I don't know," he grunted. "Ketch said something about the research team, or…"
Dean glanced at Mary and she paled. "The R&D department. They love having supernatural creatures to…experiment on."
"Son of a bitch," Dean growled. "Look, Mom, can you get Sam back to the car?"
"You have no idea where you're going," Mary protested. "And you'll need help!"
"I can do it," Dean gritted out.
"No, you can't," Sam grunted, standing up straighter. "Give me a gun, we'll go together."
"No way, look at you," Dean protested.
"Yeah, I'm not much more worse off than you," Sam pointed out, glancing at the blood only partially hidden by Dean's jacket.
"Alright," Dean agreed. He didn't like it, but it wasn't like they had much choice. He grabbed Sam's discarded plaid shirt and helped his brother into it, wincing at Sam's hiss of pain when it settled against his bloody back. Then he handed his brother the shotgun and extra bullets.
"Let's go."
It was lucky that the place seemed pretty empty so they were able to move around without too much trouble, which was good because having to quickly hide three people was not an easy task.
"Most of the others are probably out on missions," Mary said.
"But we don't know where ketch is," Dean stated. Honestly, he was hoping to get a shot at the bastard before the night was over.
They made it to the lab or whatever it was, and Dean could already hear Ketch's voice on the other side.
"Just give it another dose if it won't stop struggling. That's right, halo, there's no stopping the inevitable."
Cas. Dean glanced at his mom and Sam and shoved through the doors, gun raised.
"Hey!" he bellowed.
The scientists startled, looking shocked, but Ketch only gave a lazy look, and a sigh.
"Oh, you're still alive."
"Should have gone for the head," Dean growled.
Ketch smirked. "Yes, well, perhaps I'll have a second chance. But you're just in time for the vivisection to start. I'm sure you don't want to miss that…"
Dean shot him in the leg and Ketch collapsed with a sharp cry of shock. Sam and Mary took out the three other scientists, one of which was standing over Cas with a bloody scalpel which clattered to the floor as the body fell.
"Get Cas," Dean told the others as he went over to Ketch who was reaching for his pistol. Dean kicked him onto his back and kicked the gun away from his hand. "Forget it. If you think you're getting away with this, think again."
"I'm not the end of this, you realize," Ketch said, grunting as he clutched his leg. "There will be more."
"Frankly, I don't give a damn," Dean said darkly. "You shot me, and hurt my family. If I take you out tonight that's good enough for me. And the rest of you can just try to come for us. I dare you."
Ketch snarled and made a move, and Dean put a bullet between his eyes. The man's body slumped on the ground, still.
Dean turned around to see Sam and Mary unstrapping Cas. Dean instantly regretted killing all the scientists so quickly when he saw the state the angel was in. He was stripped and bound to the table, some kind of gag muzzling him that Mary was trying to get off. In addition to multiple cuts and bruises, Cas had a deep cut running down the center of his chest, obviously the start of the promised vivisection.
"Cas, shit," Dean gasped, reaching down to help his mom with the muzzle.
The angel's eyes were blown wide, the pupils dilated, probably from some kind of drug. When the muzzle was finally free, he gasped, and raised a shaky hand. Dean caught it and rested his other on Cas' head, carding his hair gently to try and calm him.
"You're good, you're okay."
"Dean. Y-you…" the angel rasped then coughed.
"I'm good. So is Sam. You're okay now, we're getting you out of here."
He and Mary helped Cas sit up and Dean slid his coat off, tucking it around Cas' shoulders and looking for something else to cover him with. His mom was already divesting one of the scientists of their scrubs.
"Dean," Sam said, and Dean glanced to the side where his brother was holding up a large, familiar syringe.
"Holy crap," Dean growled. "Is that…?"
"Cas, is this your grace?" Sam asked, a sick look on his face.
The angel nodded, head heavy. "Not…all of it but…enough to make sure I…didn't heal too…quickly."
Dean swore and helped his mom wrestle the scrub pants onto Cas. "We need to leave," Mary said. "They'll have heard the gunshots."
Obviously, Dean realized, but he still didn't care. He helped Cas off the table, having to keep the angel upright, as Cas' knees gave out. Dean gritted his teeth, his own injuries only getting worse.
Sam carefully wrapped the syringe of grace in a cloth and allowed their mom to give him a hand as they all hurried out of the compound.
Some alarm was sounding by the time they made it out into the hallway and Dean cursed. The sounds of pounding feet could be heard from two different hallways. They were about to be trapped.
The guards culminated at the door they were racing for and they came to a halt.
"Stop!" one of the guards said.
Dean didn't stop. He pulled the grenade launcher from over his shoulder and shot directly at the guards blocking their exit.
An explosion rattled the compound and when the smoke cleared, the guards lay on the ground and the whole wall had been blown out.
"Damn," Sam gasped.
Dean couldn't help a small smirk. "See? I told you this was good for something."
Sam let out a breathless laugh and they all continued on, stepping over the guards as they made it outside.
The Impala was waiting for them, and they all piled in and got the hell out of there, not even bothering to look back.
They drove for about an hour until they got to a small town off the highway and decided to stop at a hotel to tend to their injuries. Cas and Sam were still bleeding into the leather seats, and Dean was about ready to drop, though he refused to do so until he had made sure Sam and Cas were safe.
Mary went to get a room since she wasn't covered in blood and then they all dragged themselves into the hotel room and collapsed onto the beds.
"I'll grab the first aid stuff from the car," Mary said.
Sam handed the syringe of grace to Cas. "Will this help you heal?"
Cas took it. "Eventually. I don't know if it will until the drugs are out of my system though."
"We'll patch you up anyway," Dean said.
Cas didn't even protest, obviously tired. He took the syringe and opened it, inhaling his grace again. His eyes glowed briefly, but, as predicted, nothing happened. His wounds didn't heal. He slumped, exhausted.
"I'm sorry I won't be able to heal you," he said.
"Cas, don't worry about that," Sam said as he carefully peeled his shirt off, gasping slightly. "Just worry about getting better."
Dean went to the bathroom to grab some towels and wet them, coming back out and heading to Sam.
"Lay on your stomach," he said and Sam rolled over with a grunt, grabbing one of the pillows and clutching it tiredly.
Dean began to clean the lash wounds as Mary tended to Cas, suturing the deep cut in his chest in case it took him a while to start healing again. Cas was stoic but the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and the sharp inhales told how much pain he was in.
Sam arched his back against Dean's ministrations and grunted into the pillow.
"Sorry," Dean murmured.
"S'okay," Sam muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "Just…glad you're all right."
Cas nodded in agreement. "We thought Ketch had killed you back there."
Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah. I guess for a moment I thought he had too."
He used some clean gauze to spread an antibiotic cream over Sam's back, but left the wounds unbandaged, before he went to tend to Sam's wrists.
"What do we do now?" Cas asked tiredly as he slumped back on the other bed, looking exhausted.
"Well, the Brits will probably either retreat or double down on us," Dean said. "Personally, I'm not going to stop until they've flown back over the pond."
"Agreed," Mary said, helping Dean wrap Sam's wrists after he'd finished cleaning them. "I think we need to show them what American hunters are like."
"And not to tangle with us," Dean agreed with a small smile.
He finished tending Sam's wounds and sighed, leaning back on the bed beside his brother.
"Your turn," his mom said.
"I'm good, just need to sleep," Dean protested, but she folded her arms across her chest.
"Dean."
"All right." Dean sighed and struggled with his shirt, which Mary helped pull over his head before peeling back the bloody bandages he had quickly taped over his wound earlier. Dean hissed and lay back, squeezing his eyes shut.
He was exhausted.
His mom surprised him by reaching out and brushing a hand over his forehead in a very familiar gesture.
"It's okay, Dean. Go to sleep. I don't think they'll be after us tonight."
Dean wanted to protest, but one glance at Sam and Cas told him that they were already fast asleep, and it just made him feel even more tired.
So, under his mom's gentle ministrations that he refused to admit he was probably too old for, he closed his eyes and fell asleep, knowing that, no matter what came next, they would get through it as family.
Thank you all so much for reading, favoriting and reviewing this year! If you enjoyed, please consider supporting me on ko-fi. You can find me there at: LadyWallace (I have commissions open again as well, so if you're looking for fix-it fics or ideas for Christmas gifts :)