Just a quick note. I know it might seem this way so far, but I swear I'm not hating on Dean! I love Dean (almost as much as I love Sam!) and whether Dean actually turns out to be the bad guy that Sam thinks he is will eventually be revealed. Or, I can just tell you now…whilst everything Dean has done, and will do, comes from a place of love, this story is set from Sam's pov only and he doesn't know the whole story yet.
Sam had been calling Castiel for far longer than it should have taken. With closed eyes and steady breaths he had repeated his location and his cries of help over and over but Cas hadn't appeared. Was Cas ok? Was he still mad? It's not like Cas hadn't ignored his calls before, but he had hoped they had gotten past all that long ago.
There were no wardings as far as he could see, and he had looked hard for them since arriving at the apartment block. Maybe there was something else keeping him away? At first Sam was calm, but now he was getting worried. Bill had to be due to speak to Dean at any moment, meaning he and Lara were on borrowed time whilst going nowhere fast.
Lara's scepticism wasn't going anywhere either. In between lots of eye rolls and mutterings about 'imaginary friends', she had gathered up most of their remaining toilet paper and was doing her best to clean Sam up. It was a bit of a wasted effort: he was bleeding faster than the thin paper could soak up, but helping him seemed to make her feel slightly less guilty at having being the one who cut him in the first place.
She obviously thought he was deluding himself with talk of angels coming to the rescue, rather than him just being an outright liar. Her tone as she fussed over him had changed from anger to something more like pity. But she was kind and sincere and his heart ached at the thought of anything else happening to her. He wondered what the hell she would make of it if…when…Castiel finally appeared. He really, genuinely liked her and his only hope of ever getting past this with her, if it wasn't already too late, was if he was proved right. Now it was his turn to eye roll: he knew he was kidding himself – if by some miracle they both got out of this alive, and in one piece, why would she ever contemplate the idea of even talking to Sam again, let alone taking things further?
Once again, he felt a surge of anger towards Bill and Archie, towards anyone and everyone who had conspired to sabotage his new life.
And that included Dean.
If they truly had been kidnapped solely to retrieve a stupid necklace that was nothing more than a private joke, then following the logic-trail backwards led to Dean being behind this. Of all the things for some mysterious buyer to want – only one person on the planet could have set this up.
The last time they had spoken some serious words had been said. Sam had walked away in the total knowledge he was done ever talking to his brother again. Was Dean really so desperate to find Sam that he would set something like this up? Where Dean was concerned, anything was possible. Maybe he had never intended this, whatever this was, to go this far. Maybe the consequences of him trying to reach out to Sam in his own uniquely dangerous way hadn't even crossed his mind. Ultimately, it didn't really matter what Dean's intentions were: it was almost certainly his actions had put Lara's life on the line – and that, as far as Sam was concerned, was unforgivable.
Sam didn't give up on Cas, even as he heard the bolts on the bedroom door being thrown open. Lara, as promised, freaked out as soon as she heard the first noise at the door. Panic set in, and she fled to the bathroom.
Archie went past Sam to go and drag her out, but Bill told him to let her be. "It's Sammy here I want a word with, not the girl. So long as she stays out of my hair I don't really give a fuck if she wants to camp out in the bog." He ran a hand over his bald head, and gave a wink.
"What do you want?" Sam asked Bill, hoping to bring his attention away from Lara. He wasn't too concerned about Bill spotting the tear on his abdomen – between the split lip and the cut above his eye, his white shirt was now crimson all the way down the front.
"Not much, just a chat. First I'm going to ring Dean and see if he's been a good boy." The call was picked up after two rings. Bill didn't put the call on speaker this time, so Sam had to pick up the gist of the conversation from only one side.
Bill: "Afternoon Dean. You all sorted? What time you due to land?"
Dean: "…"
Bill: "I don't really care how many stops it is, that's not my problem." There was a variety of wheezes and chuckles.
Dean: "…"
Bill: "You're gonna be knackered after all that travelling - I'll get one of my boys to pick you up from the airport. You're here at my invitation so think nothing of it mate, my pleasure."
Dean: "…"
Bill: "You know what? In a funny way I'm actually looking forward to meeting you Dean. You sound a lot more fun to be around than your brother, that's for sure." He looked at his watch. "See in the morning then."
Bill ended the call. "All sorted. Bet that's a relief, eh Sam? Just a few more hours then you can have a proper catch up with your big bruv." Sam had no answer to that, but his face must have said it all.
"Like that is it? You two fallen out? That how come he's all the way over there, and you're all the way over here? What'd you row over? Birds? Money?"
Sam just laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound, and it prompted Bill's curiosity further.
"Me and my brother – we don't always get along – but blood's thicker than water." Bill's tone was patronising. "I'd fucking kill anyone who messed with Gav." He laughed and looked over at his mini-clone. "Even if he is a knob who's married to the ugliest bird this side of the river."
Gavin laughed good naturedly. "No one comes between a man and his brother. Just how it is."
Seriously? Sam was dumbfounded. They were lecturing him about family - without any fucking idea of what sacrifices the Winchesters had made for each other.
"I'm guessing the problem lies with you." Bill said nastily, trying to piss Sam off. "Dean seems an alright bloke – he's about to travel thousands of miles just to get you out of a tight spot. And the language he used when he saw you all banged up - it would make even my old Nanny Dryer blush, and she swore like a fucking navvy! And yet…you don't seem very appreciative…"
Its Dean's fault I'm here in the first place! It was laughable that Bill obviously hadn't heard about Sam and Dean's previous unhealthy co-dependent history. If these guys only knew the half of what deals they had made to save each other – and who with - they would be running out of the room screaming in terror. The thought of them squealing at the sight of Lucifer, or God, or Crowley, or any of the multitude of supernatural beings that the boys had dealt with made Sam laugh out loud again.
It wasn't the reaction that Bill had been expecting, and he looked unsettled for the first time. "You're a strange one, aren't you?"
"It's been said." Sam wasn't even joking.
"I don't know what to make of you. I mean, I've met all sorts in my line of business, but I just can't work you out."
"Do I take that as a compliment?" Sam asked.
"Jury's still out. Tell me about yourself Sam. We like to do a bit of homework on our guests, and you being from the States made it a bit harder to dig out your background. Not that I haven't tried, mind. But some of it led to more questions than answers."
"Like what?" Sam asked, curious.
"All kinds of strange shit. Being honest, most of it sounds like bollocks. For instance: my contact out there's lost count of how many times someone with your particular name has been reported as dead."
Sam shrugged. "It's a common enough name, nothing freaky about that. I'm sure even people named Bill die just as often..." It wasn't quite a veiled threat, but Sam didn't care how it was taken.
"Not today they don't. Tell me Sam, before you came over here what did you do for a living?"
"Same as now: research. Boring as hell, I know."
"Yeah, I think there's a bit more to you than that. What kind of research we talking about?"
"Banking law mainly."
"Banking law my arse." Bill shook his head. "Slippery as fuck you are."
"Sorry to disappoint – but that's exactly what I do."
"Do now, maybe. What about did?"
Sam huffed. "I read through dusty old books that no one's looked at in years, looking for obscure references in obscure languages. Look, I don't care if you believe me or not Bill, I really don't, but that's the honest to god truth."
"Maybe that's part of what you did. But not all of it." Bill was smart, smarter than Sam gave him credit for. "It doesn't explain your calm demeanour in an otherwise out of the ordinary and frightening situation. It doesn't explain why you seem to be so comfortable in a set of handcuffs and bruises. It doesn't explain why your brother is in possession of a trinket that you've obviously heard of, that someone very rich and powerful wants to obtain. So don't bullshit a bullshit artist son – tell me your fucking story."
Sam stared stonily at Bill. "If you uncuff me and get us some decent food, I'll think about us having a civilised conversation. Until then, I'm not interested in discussing 'my fucking story' with a violent bully, so screw you."
Bill was silent for a while. "No one speaks to me like that in this room. No one. Who the fuck do you think you are?" He turned to his brother. "Give us your knife Gav."
Sam's stomach lurched as Bill turned towards him with the kitchen knife. Bill looked him over, appraising him. Then pushed the knife through the sleeve of his shirt into the soft elbow joint on his left arm. He pushed again, then twisted then poked around, destroying the muscle and joint the way you would debone a chicken. Sam twisted and yelled as intense pain ripped through nerve endings. As the knife dug at his bone, shock and nausea rose quickly. He screamed at Bill in agony, called him every single curse word he could think of, until Bill finally pulled the knife out.
Sam could hear Lara in the bathroom hysterically crying, hear his own heavy ragged breathing, hear his blood drip steadily onto the carpet. He fought against being sick, against passing out. Everything did go grey for a moment, and when colour returned Bill was still there in front of him.
He was looking at Sam expectantly, waiting for him to cry or beg or start babbling. Sam looked up at the scars on his fingers and his resolve hardened even further. After everything he had been through it would take more than a knife in the arm for him to break. If Lucifer himself couldn't do it, this asshole stood no chance.
Sam's refusal to cave wound Bill up more. "Fucking Yanks. Arrogant cunts with a superiority complex."
Sam gritted his teeth before repeating himself. "Uncuff me, get us some decent food. I've nothing to say to you till then."
Winchester stubbornness was as immovable as Everest and deeper than the Pacific Ocean. Sam had it built into his DNA and Bill saw absolutely nothing but obstinacy in Sam's face. If he wanted any kind of answers at all, there was only one way he was going to get them – and it wasn't going to be through force.
Bill's common sense – and overriding curiosity - just about managed to dominate his bloodlust. "We can do civilised. I'll even get the young lad to make you a cup of tea. How's that?" Bill nodded towards Archie, who reached up and unlocked Sam's wrists. The pain as he brought his damaged arm back down threatened to wipe him out again. He backed up and leant heavily against the wall, using his right arm as a cradle.
"Your brother don't arrive till tomorrow Sam. We've got a few hours to play it your way, and if you let me down we can go back to mine."
In a world of pain, Sam smiled at him through blood stained teeth. "Cup of tea sounds great Bill. Two sugars in mine please. Same for Lara, she could do with the energy."
Sam waited until they had all left before sliding down the wall. Blood was everywhere, and the stench of it was sickening. A flashback of being in that cell only two short months ago took his breath away. Why did this shit keep happening to him? Shock overwhelmed him and his legs began to shake with cold.
He didn't even realise he had passed out until he awoke to find Lara at his side, using his discarded tie to tightly bandage his arm. She had put him in the recovery position and was concentrating hard to tie the last knot firmly. "You ok?" she said, as he helped him sit back up against the wall.
"Yeah," he replied automatically. He wasn't, but he was never going to tell Lara that. God he was so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep.
"Do you want some water?" She asked.
"Yeah," he said again. The back of his brain was numb with fatigue. "Help me up please?" Lara steadied him as he got up, helped him take the few steps into the small bathroom. He leant against the basin, and drank handfuls of water from the faucet until the taste of blood left his mouth. He washed his gore soaked hands and face as best he could. It didn't help to wake him up any.
"What are you going to say to them? When they come back." She was standing just outside the bathroom, arms crossed over her chest.
He ran one damp hand through his hair. "I haven't got that far yet. No idea."
"Some advice? Leave all the angel shit out of it. They're just gonna think you're mental."
He turned to look at her. "Like you, you mean?"
She gently smiled at him. "I don't think you're mental. Just fucking crazy…"
As Sam went to smile back, the cut on his lip broke open again. He turned towards the basin to rinse out his mouth, when a sudden throb from his abdomen reminded him of the torn sigil. He lifted up his sodden shirt to look closely at the mark. Lara had cut through two of the lines, but hadn't cut deeply enough on one of them. Unexpected hope struck him like a bucket of ice water, and he was suddenly awake and alert.
"Lara, you still got that nail?"
"What?" She looked at him like, oh god not this again.
He held out a hand, and she must have seen the change in his face, his excitement. She pulled the nail out of her trouser pocket and reluctantly handed it over to him like a parent giving in to a spoilt child.
Without any hesitation at all, he dug the nail deep into the intact burn mark. He closed his eyes again and began to pray. It was only a startled squawk from Lara that made him look up. Pure delight flooded through Sam at the heart-warming sight of his old friend arriving to help them. "Cas! Cas, thank god…"
"Sam, it's so good to see you. You look terrible!" Castiel stood in front of him and Lara, his expression equal measures of worry and relief.
"Yeah, thanks!" He laughed even though it wasn't a joke. "Man it's good to see you too." Sam was so overwhelmed he was almost giddy. "Cas – this is Lara. Lara this is Castiel. My imaginary friend."
"Imaginary?" Cas was confused. "No – I'm not imaginary."
"Not what I meant." He looked over at Lara, whose stunned face was the absolute epitome of puzzlement. "You ready to get the hell out of here?" he asked her. He was grinning from ear to ear, all thoughts of his lip, his arm, his face forgotten. His childlike delight must have rubbed off on Lara, who suddenly burst out laughing. She was also crying at the same time. Lara reached out and very, very gently poked a finger at Castiel, to check he was real. "I…I…I don't even know what to say. Turns out the crazy bloke I fancied isn't crazy after all. Oh thank fuck for that!"
"So you do fancy me then?" He teased.
"You're an Angel?" She said to Cas, voice hushed. Her eyes gazed up at him with absolute amazement.
"I am," replied Cas, slightly embarrassed. He coughed. "We should leave. Sam?"
"Take Lara. Go."
"What?" Lara and Castiel said in unison.
"Cas – take Lara home."
"Sam, you're severely injured and your life is in danger. I'm not leaving you here alone."
"Then come straight back after Lara's safe."
"There's something you should know." Cas looked uncomfortable. "Dean is here."
"In London? But his flight…? Oh..." Sam's face hardened. "He was never back in the States was he? He's been here all along..."
"We've both been here, in this building, for hours. I heard you cry out to me but I couldn't get nearer than two floors down." Castiel obviously felt terrible about this.
"I don't blame you Cas."
"Dean was going to wait until it got dark, then take them by surprise. We were here for you Sam."
"I get it. Its ok. Please, just get Lara home safe then you can come back and get me." Castiel looked from Sam to Lara and back again. He could see how desperately important it was to Sam for Lara to be safe. Lara looked conflicted. It was evident she was desperate to leave the apartment, she just didn't want to leave Sam here alone. Castiel felt the same way.
"I'll do it. But first I have to stop the bleeding in your arm. A vein is punctured and you will bleed to death within a few hours if I don't help." Without waiting for an answer, Cas reached forward and placed a palm on Sam's forehead. A deep warmth filled his bones, his arteries, his soul even. Castiel's healing was a comforting and familiar feeling. He felt a sudden rush of love for the Angel, immediately followed by guilt at how he had treated him the last couple of months.
"I'm sorry Cas, I haven't been a very good friend to you lately."
"I understand Sam. Things have been…difficult." There was an awkward moments silence. "Please – stay safe. I will be back shortly." Castiel took hold of Lara's hand. She was staring at Cas in a comical mixture of bafflement and reverence. It was the last thing Sam saw of her before they both disappeared, leaving Sam alone.
