Chapter 13

Sam struggled for what seemed like hours to get out of those straps. Finally, he was able to get one arm free. "Yes!" he said as he reached over and unstrapped his other wrist.

He took a deep breath and sat up. Wincing, and gritting his teeth against the pain, he pulled himself up on his good leg. He got dizzy and had to stand there for a minute until it subsided, then he hopped over toward the door, pain exploding in his very being with every jolt.
He reached the door after what seemed like an eternity. He tried the lock knowing that it was no use, but he was surprised when the door opened. The bookshelves had been moved. "What the hell?" he said aloud. He specifically remembered them locking that door and pushing those bookshelves in front of it, at least he thought he did anyway, but everything was a blur. His head was killing him. He was sure that he also now had a concussion on top of everything else. "Focus, Sam." he said to himself as he looked across the hall.

He hopped over to his brother's door, his body protesting every move. Finally he reached it.

"How am I going to move those bookshelves," he wondered. If he pulled them over, the noise would alert the men upstairs that he was out. He made his way to one end of the bookshelves, braced his body against them, and pushed with all his might. His side screamed out in pain and protest as slowly the shelves slid away from Dean's door.

Sam had to stand there for a minute and catch his breath. He was exhausted and sweating profusely. He grimaced at the pain as he opened the door to his brother's prison and hopped inside and over to Dean's bed. He knelt down, his body screaming out in pain and agony, as he touched his brother's chest. He moved his hand to Dean's neck and felt for a pulse. He got one and let out the breath he was holding.

"Dean," said Sam, but his brother didn't move. He tried again. "Dean, come on, okay?" said Sam as he touched his brother's head. "Wake up. Please." Dean moaned and opened his eyes. He looked at Sam.

"Sam?" he asked weakly.

"Yeah, it's me," answered Sam. "How are you doing?"

"Sam, how did you get out?" asked Dean. Sam couldn't understand why Dean was so nervous. He looked terrified. It wasn't something he was used to seeing on his brother's face. He'd seen fear, of course, but never terror.

"The door was unlocked and I worked my hand free from one of the straps. It's probably a trap, I know, but I don't care. I had to see you." said Sam. "I have to get you out of here." He started to unstrap Dean's hands but his brother stopped him.

"No, Sam," he said. "I want you to go back over to your room and act like you never got out."

"What? No. Why?" asked Sam. "I've got to get you out of here!"

"Sam, listen to me," said Dean. "There's too many of them and you're hurt. They will beat the crap out of you if they find you in here. We'll figure a way out of this, I promise, but you can't go out with guns blazing man, not this time. You'd never make it. They'd kill you for sure; now please go back to your room. We'll find another way."

Sam didn't like it but Dean had a point. There was no way he could take them all on. Not with his broken leg, gunshot wound to his side and now the concussion. He wouldn't stand a chance.
"All right," he said reluctantly and pulled himself up on his one good leg, grimacing against the pain it caused just to move.

"What the hell are you doing in here!" yelled the doctor as he appeared in the doorway. He pulled a gun on Sam and yelled for the men upstairs who came running to the basement. Sam whirled around, which made him very dizzy. He started to fall, but the men ran over and grabbed him, dragging him away from Dean.

"Sammy!" yelled Dean as they started hitting Sam over and over again. All Dean could do was watch in horror at the beating his brother was getting. He was right. They beat the crap out of him. Sam fell and lay bloody and bruised on the ground. He was barely conscious. "Sam!" yelled Dean again.

"Take him back across the hall!" yelled the doctor. "I'll be there in a minute!" The men picked Sam up and carried him back to his prison.

"Sam!" yelled Dean. "You son of a bitch! I'll kill you, I swear!" The doctor slapped Dean hard across the face causing him to see stars.

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOUR ASS! DO YOU HEAR ME!" yelled Dean.

The doctor hit him again. "Don't threaten me, Dean. I'm going to your brother's room right now. I'm going to teach him a lesson. Do you want me to leave the door open so you can watch?"

"You leave him the hell alone! Do you hear me!" yelled Dean. The doctor left, locked the door, and pushed the bookshelves back in front of it. "SAM!" yelled Dean. "SAMMY!"

The doctor walked back over to Sam's room and went inside. They had him strapped back down to the bed and he was barely conscious. He walked up to Sam's cot and looked down at him. Sam looked up at the doctor and saw two of him. His vision was blurry and he was seeing double. Both eyes were almost completely swollen shut. He was bleeding from everywhere, it seemed, and he couldn't even begin to describe the pain he was experiencing. It was excruciating.

"I'm sick to death of you, Sam!" said the doctor. "You're way to much trouble for me. Haven't you figured it out yet? YOU CAN NOT GET AWAY! YOU AND YOUR BROTHER ARE GOING TO DIE HERE MAN!" He took out a needle and injected it into Sam's arm. "No!" said Sam weakly and passed out. The doctor left, locked the door, and shoved the bookshelves in front of it. "How did he get out of there?" thought the doctor. He doubled checked everything again and went back upstairs.