A/N: Hello…
This is the start of my new multi-chapter story. Its something I don't usually do and I don't usually use the tense I have used here, so I really hope I've pulled it off.
I have rated this story M because of later chapters. I will put warnings before any chapter that will need it.
This a Desital story because I just love them. I ship it so hard.
Anyway, on a different note: I have another story in progress, if you would like to check that out and one I have just completed. Also, if you have some ideas of any story you would like me to attempt to write and not sure you want to do it, give me a message and I'll see what I can do. But I will say I like to follow cannon a little, not all the way, but it needs to have some connection to the show. Sorry, that's just the way I roll.
Enough rambling…. Here's the first chapter….
Chapter One
He's missing.
Sam has gone. He's no where. Dean has looked.
He had been hungry and Sam had offered to go for food. At the time Dean had just been grateful for the gesture, too tired to move from the bed. But its been hours and he's nowhere to be found. This is suppose to be a simple hunt, one or two demons at best.
Dean can feel the panic building inside him as he brings the phone to his ear once more, as he pushes the peddle to the floor of the Impala. Where could he be? The phone rings and rings and rings. He throws it into the passenger seat with such force, it bounces. The frustration and the helplessness is crawling through his veins, making him restless. He has to do something, anything. He needs to know where his brother is. If anything happens to him…
He can't finish that thought. Won't allow it. He will not lose his brother, not ever again. It won't happen. He forces the car to go faster, his head swinging from left to right, his eyes darting from person to person, from car to car, from object to object.
But he's nowhere.
He decides to head back to the motel, perhaps Sam got held up. Perhaps the reason he's not answering his phone is because he switched it to vibrate by accident. But he knows that isn't the case, he knows this because Sammy knows better than that, especially when on a hunt.
Dean thinks back to their latest conversations and nothing gives off a red flag. He hasn't upset him, they haven't argued. So he can't be ignoring his phone calls. Deep down he knows, he knows that Sam is in trouble, he knows that he can't answer his phone, not that he won't.
The motel comes into sight too quickly. His brother isn't outside and his heart sinks in his chest at the sight, but he still holds out hope and he parks the car, climbs out and pushes into their room. Its silent, too silent, and dark. The curtains still closed, beds unmade.
He huffs a frustrated sigh. He can't just disappear. Its not possible. But it is. In their lives it is possible. How is he suppose to deal with this on his own? He can't. Not really. A light bulb goes off over his head.
Cas.
Cas won't be able to track Sam but he might be able to track the damn demons. He pulls out his phone and pulls up Cas's number, fingers trembling with nervousness. He hates how the thought of talking to the angel makes him feel, hates how it makes him a quivering mess. But he pushes on. This is for Sam and he takes in a deep breath before putting the phone to his ear.
It only rings once before Cas answers and Dean sighs with relief, feeling instantly calm at the sound of his usual gruff voice in his ear. How does he manage to do this to him every time? He shakes his head, ridding these thoughts from his mind. He needs to think of one thing only, noting more and nothing less. "Cas. I need your help. Sam's missing. I can't find him, anywhere. I think demons have him."
He waits, holding his breath. He knows Cas will pull through for him, its like its in his basic nature or something. He likes that about Cas, likes how he knows when Dean really does need his help, because Dean doesn't ask for it very often. "What happened?" His voice comes out rushed, as though he can't get the words out fast enough.
"I'm not sure. It was only suppose to be a couple of demons. But… he went for food and I haven't seen him since." He takes a deep breath, trying to push the panic down. Now that he's spoken the words it makes it more real and he's unsure how he should handle that.
"How long ago?" He can hear music come on in the background and then it goes silent again, an engine starts up and it instantly calms Dean again. Because he knows, he knows Cas is already on the move, already trying to get to him.
"Four hours."
He can almost hear Cas's frown through the phone and he allows himself a small smile at it but it drops when he remembers the purpose of the call and waits. "Where are you?" Dean tells him in a rush, hoping against all hope that he's not too far away, that they're not going to waste precious time waiting for him to get here.
"Okay. I'm not far. Two hours away, at least, if I hurry." Dean lets out a relieved sigh at that, its better than he thought it would be.
He hangs up the phone, and looks around the empty hotel room. What's he suppose to do now? He glances around, catches sight of Sam's laptop on the table and rushes towards it, almost tripping over his feet. He pushes open the lid and starts typing. He doesn't know what he's looking for but he can't sit there and do nothing. It makes him feel sick as he thinks about what his brother would say seeing him sat there, using his things. It makes him sick because Sam isn't there to reprimand him about it, isn't there to give him a bitch face like he's a small child doing something incredibly wrong.
Of course his searches come up empty, just like they did for his brother. There's no signs as to where they could be, nothing, and he wants to throw the damn computer through the window. He refrains though, knowing that when – not if – he gets Sammy back he wouldn't be too pleased at coming home to a broken laptop.
Instead he gets up and starts to pace the length of the room, dodging his dirty clothes and empty beer bottles from last night. He twists his hands together as the restlessness returns. He couldn't just stay there and do nothing, but he has to, for Cas. Cas would be here soon.
He looks at the clock on the wall. Its been an hour. Another hour to wait. He opens the door to the motel and steps out. The sun is bright and he has to squint at first. When his eyes adjust to the light, he looks up and down the street, hoping to see his brother walk round the corner at any moment. But he doesn't. Of course he doesn't. He sighs and walks back into the stuffy motel room. Its the middle of summer and the room is hotter than outside.
The pacing begins again. He thinks about grabbing a beer, but he knows he needs to stay sober to get his brother back. Suddenly there's a knock at the door. The hope springs forth but he tramples it down. Sam wouldn't knock. But it might be Cas. He glances at the clock again – its been another hour and ten minuets. It could be him.
Cautiously he closes the gap between him and the door, his hand going to his gun that currently sits in the back of his jeans. He grips it tightly, firmly, and peers through the peep hole in the door. He lets out a relieved sigh as he catches a glimpse of the angel. He swings the door open and smiles. Dean knows he shouldn't be smiling, knows that this isn't the time, but the relief at seeing him is overwhelming. He pulls Cas into a hug, patting his back.
Ignoring the way it makes him feel to hold him, to see him again, because frankly its been too long since they had seen each other, he just grips harder, saying, "Its good to see you, man."
The feeling of Cas's arms wrapping around him awkwardly makes him almost moan with relief. Because Cas is happy to see him too. Of course he is. They're friends and they haven't seen each other in forever. They talk on the phone, little updates about what the other has been doing, but that's it. And Dean hates to admit it, but at the moment he doesn't care, he's really missed him.
Knowing that the hug has gone on for too long, he pulls away and avoids eye contact at all cost, waving the angel into the room. He hears the soft shutting of the door and finally turns to face him. Dean keeps his eyes firmly on Cas's chest, still unable to look him the eye. It was awkward, clinging to Cas like that, but it had also felt right and safe and perfect.
Clearing his throat, he finally says. "So, did you sense anything on the way in? Any demons about?"
Cas tilts his head and frowns slightly and Dean almost bursts out laughing at the familiar sight. "No, I'm sorry."
Dean shakes his head. The demons probably knew that he'd call Cas, probably prepared for the eventuality, probably warded themselves against him. It was too much to ask. He sits heavily on the motel bed and sighs with tiredness. He's exhausted everything he knows and he's now feeling lost. Cas kneels before him and places his hand on Dean's knee.
The warmth makes him gasp, which he somehow manages to muffle with another cough. For the first time since Cas got here, he looks him straight in the eye. He can see the sadness and the helplessness there and he wants to wipe it all away because, damn him to hell, he hates the sight of it. Hates it because it has no business being there on such a beautiful face, in such beautiful eyes.
"We'll find him," Cas says softly and Dean believes him. Cas will make sure he gets Sam home to him, he will make sure they are both safe. He feels his heart burst with joy at the thought that Cas cares that much to help, that he can put aside his own problems to be here with him.
He nods his acceptance, a small pinch of doubt enters his mind. They don't know where to begin. They don't know where he is. But at least he's not alone, dealing with this on his own. Cas is here to help. His friend. His family. He couldn't have asked for anything better.
They are going to find Sam, even it is the last thing they do.
- Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural – Supernatural -
He can't see. Darkness all around him. He looks left and then right, but nothing. He's bound to a chair, he thinks, and he struggles against the rope, trying to free himself. But there's no movement and he finally gives up.
Where is he? How long has he been here? Is Dean looking for him? All these question and more swirl round his mind as time wears on. His head is banging, his throat is dry and his stomach is rumbling. He can feel dried blood on the side of his head and figures that's probably why he has a headache. He tries to think straight, tries to think of a way out of this.
Was that a movement over there?
He snaps his head to where he thought he saw a movement in the shadows. But there's nothing there now. He looks to his other side, but there's nothing. Panic is slowly starting to push forward and he tries to stamp it out. There is no room for panic here. He has to be smart, he has to be willing to do anything to get out of here alive.
Sudden brightness and he squeezes his eyes shut against it, feeling the sting of it. He can hear footsteps and alarm bells go off in his head,. Because they aren't his brother's or Cas's, they are a woman's footsteps. He can hear the clink of the heels against hard floor and his heart sinks because whatever this woman wants it can't be good. Its never good.
He forces his eyes open, ignoring the initial stinging and glances at the woman that's coming towards him. She's beautiful. All blonde hair, big boobs, and long legs. But he ignores that and concentrates on the evil smile on her red lips. Because she's not human, far from it and he's her prisoner.
She comes to a stop just out of reach from him. He hates her already and gives her his best glare. "Hi, Sammy. You can call me Christie."
"I – I don't care what your called." His voice sounds funny, scratchy, but he doesn't break the fierceness that's in his eyes. He doesn't allow his weakness to show. He remembers the knife that's in his sock and decides to wait, wait for the opportune moment.
She just smiles down at him, hand on hip. "Aw, don't be like that. You and me are going to become really, really good friends."
Sam lets out a small, sarcastic chuckle at that. "I doubt it."
Christie comes forward and sits on his lap, wrapping her arms round his neck. He feels repulsed as he inhales her perfume and she inches her face forward, that damn smile is still there. "Oh but we are, Sammy. You and me are going to become really close."
He frowns at that. Not liking the sound of it one bit. She places a wet kiss on his cheek and he grimaces at the feel of it, at the feel of the lipstick stain he's sure is there. She climbs off him and looks over her shoulder. Five other demons are now in the room, all men, not that it matters much. Somehow he manages to avoid the panic from crossing his face. Whatever happens now, he will not come out of this in one piece.
He sends out a silent goodbye to his brother, apologizing for being so stupid.
The demons come forward, all five of them, circling him. Then he's free and being shoved to the hard floor. It hurts his back, but he fights, he fights with everything he has in him. He will not go willingly, he will not allow them to do whatever it is they are going to do. His brother would never forgive him if he didn't. But its also not in his nature to go quietly.
He can feel two demons kneeling on his arms, one on each. He can feel two demons doing the same to his legs. The woman, Christie, sits upon his waist and smiles down at him. Its not evil. Just smug. He bucks his hips, moves his arms, kicks his legs. But its all pointless. He's not going anywhere and they know it.
Briefly he remembers the final demon and he stills all movements, and glances to where he can see him. He's walking towards him and he's holding a hot poker in his hand. The words come back to him, muffled in his brain, but they come all the same. Closer. Christie had said that and suddenly he knows what they're planning.
He fights harder, panic surging forwards. This, he can't allow, he won't allow. Killing him is one thing, but… this. No. He won't have it. He fights and fights. The demons are no longer smiling, concentrating on keeping him still instead. The final demon is now above him and Christie is pulling his t-shirt down as her legs grips his waist to keep him steady or to keep herself steady, Sam's not sure which.
Then all he can feel is the searing hot pain as the poker touches his skin. He scrunches up his eyes, his body tenses and he screams with agony. Somewhere deep in his mind he knows what's happening. He knows they're burning his tattoo off, but at the moment he can't think past the pain, can't think past the fire burning through him.
Finally, finally, the pain stops and the cool air hits him. He slowly opens his eyes, relaxing his body. He glances at where his tattoo use to be and sees nothing but burnt flesh. He can smell it too and it makes him feel sick, makes him want to vomit. But he gets a glimpse of the demon bitch above him and watches with something close to horror as she slowly opens her mouth.
Black smoke escapes, swirling and twirling through the air. Sam instantly clamps his mouth shut, now on the same page as these demons. Its no use. The smoke pushes his lips apart with ease and then he's choking, tasting nothing but smoke and ash and he wants to hurl it back up, but he can't because its forcing its way down his throat.
His eyes are forced shut and so is his mouth. When they open again he can see clearly, can still feel the pain in his chest, but its too dull to care about it. Then he pushes the limp body of the girl off him. He sits up, but it doesn't seem like he's sitting up, it feels like someone else. Then he's standing and he can't remember moving. He wants to fight the demons that are now staring at him, want to charge them. He's free and he's got his weapon in his sock. But when he tries to make his limbs work, they don't obey and realisation comes to him. He's possessed by this Christie bitch if that's her real name.
The demon inside him laughs, using his voice, it sounds wrong in his voice. Then he speaks. But its not really him and he knows this. All he can do is watch, watch as he moves, watch as she slaps a demon for being careless. He can't do nothing to stop it. Nothing.
He can feel her smile and he hates it, hates it so much he wants to claw at his own face. "Let's go and catch us another Winchester, shall we?" His voice says.
And he screams and claws at the demon. He screams till his throat is raw. He claws at her till he's a bleeding mess on the inside. He fights and fights her. He won't let her get to Dean, he won't allow it. But she just laughs at him.
"Don't worry, Sammy. We'll be gentle. I promise."
That just makes him scream harder.
A/N: Please tell me what you think...