Chapter Two
Disclaimer: I have no rights to the characters of the Winchesters, allusions to previous episodes, nor the world of Supernatural. All belong to Kripke. I am just borrowing them for my story.
It took Sam three tries before he could insert the key into the lock and enter the shabby room. Duffle bags were scattered around the room; some filled with clothes, the others with a deadly arsenal. He squirmed out of his jacket, placed the laptop on the other bed, and emptied his pockets. He collapsed more than sat on the end of the bed. Dean was all right. That mantra had been running through his mind the weary walk here. It overshadowed all other thoughts. He toed off his shoes and started to sag backwards before he caught himself. Struggling awkwardly upright, Sam went over to one of the bags and dug around, a little off balance because his arm was still trapped by his sling. The pain was manageable as a steady throb that made his teeth ache. Or maybe that was his head. His hand finally emerged from the bag grasping Dean's long knife. Precaution. Sam allowed himself to lie down, knife clenched in his fist under one pillow. Dean was all right. Sam fell into a welcome pit of oblivion.
Even being half dead from exhaustion didn't keep him under. Something dragged him back out of sleep. He barely had time to register that there was someone else in the room with him before hands imprisoned his mouth and his throat while a body pinned him down against the mattress. Sam's right hand flashed out from under the pillow and the knife sliced deep across the figure's chest. He was released. Sam rolled off the side of the bed and onto his feet, back against the corner of the room. Using the blade, he sliced off the sling and shook it to the floor. His shoulder flared when he dropped his arm but mobility was more important. It was still dark in the room, so he could only see that there were three figures other than himself; one was cursing fluently. He put that one aside for the moment.
Drained as he was, Sam was able to feint and drive his opponents away; his long reach allowed him to edge towards the door. He had the advantage since they didn't seem to want to harm them while he wanted to do as much damage as he could. Goal. Sam wrenched the door open and lunged through it only to be knocked back inside. Lying on his back, he squinted in the light as his new opponent flipped the switch. Sam kept swiveling his head trying to keep his opponents in sight as he scrambled backwards. He didn't recognize any of them but their solid black pupils told him they were possessed. One figure still blocked the door; the one who had stopped him without even touching him. His yellow eyes glowed as he relished the young man's plight.
"Hello, Sammy. Here we are again." He savored the fear that rolled off his prey despite the brave façade he presented as he tried to comprehend what was happening. A foot connected with the side of his head and darkness enveloped him.
ooooOOOOoooo
Sam opened his eyes to complete darkness. His head throbbed. He reached up, crusted blood met his tentative touch. Great, more damage to his already painful skull. Groaning, he rolled over and tried to raise himself off the floor. He started to use both arms, but the shooting pain from his collarbone stopped that action. On his feet, arm outstretched, Sam explored his prison. Finding a wall, he followed it until he found a light switch. It worked. He was in what looked like an office. There was a beat up desk, tall filing cabinet, even a small bathroom. There was no window, and the door was solidly locked. Sam remembered taking his cell phone out of his pocket right before going to sleep. No help there. He'd have to do it on his own. Great. The door opened and a strange man walked in. The only thing Sam noticed was his eyes. It was here, with him.
"Sammy," he chided, "Did you think you'd escape me?"
Sam lifted his chin in defiance. It was baiting him. His eyes darted around the room looking for some kind of weapon, something to take it out.
Laugher rolled through the air. "Why don't you give up? You are alone."
Sam swallowed hard. He felt dizzy with his concussion; fear rose and threatened to engulf him. John's words floated through his mind. "You fight with whatever you have at hand, even if it's just your determination. Be ready for your enemy to slip up. Be ready so you can make your move." Sam would be ready. This is what he'd spent the last nine months of his life hoping for. He would not go down easily.
"I have big plans for you. You are going to join me." At Sam's look of incredulity, it continued. "You will be possessed by one of us, but not in the typical way. I'm going to make you into a cage. The demon I bring forth will reside in you, but you will be the one in control of your body, your gifts. It will only stop you from doing things I don't want, nibbling at the back of your mind and keeping you with me. I need your gifts; they're going to get much stronger."
"They'll get rid of it with an exorcism." Sam spat.
"They could, except for two things. I can actually credit you and your brother for this new spell aspect I thought of. When you and Dean exorcised my daughter from Meg, you killed that poor girl. The damage done to her was kept in check by the demon inside. Yet you boys didn't pause, did you?"
Sam remembered the scene at Bobby's, arguing with Dean about finishing the exorcism, in effect killing the girl. Dean had ordered him to continue with the ritual. She died.
"Well, we'll see if John can be as cold. I'm gonna hurt you, real bad, as the demon settles in. So bad, in fact, that if he manages to exorcise it, you will die. Let's see if John can kill his baby boy. Or will he pause just long enough for me to stop him? That sure makes a pretty picture in my head." The demon paused, seemed to savor the moment, then turned his glance to the boy once more. Bet you're wondering about hero big brother, aren't ya? Have something to show you."
Sam was overwhelmed by the menace in the demon's voice. His vision was obscured by a blinding light. When he could open his eyes, he was in a dark room. A crib was under a window with a musical mobile above it. His breath caught when Mary Winchester walked in carrying a small boy who leaned into the crib to kiss his brother goodnight before being set on the floor. John sauntered in, scooping up the four year old in a tight hug. Flash. The room is dark with a figure standing above his crib. Mary walks in to check on Sam, is shushed, and she leaves. The figure is muttering when Mary runs back in. She screams. Sam tries to shut out the fear on her face as she is dragged up the walls until she is suspended over his crib. He cannot shut his eyes for he is seeing with his mind's eye. She is crying, trying to reach the younger version of him. The waist of her nightgown sprouts red flowers. She sobs with fear, pinned to the ceiling as John rushes in. He grabs the infant Sam, hands him over to his brother, his protector from that moment on, and turns to help Mary. She bursts into flames. Flash. Sam instantly recognizes his apartment in Palo Alto. Jessica drops a note on a plate of cookies before heading off to the bedroom. She starts the shower, waiting for the water to heat. Returning to the bedroom, she sees a figure, thinks it's Sam at first then draws back in fear. Sam tries to shut his eyes, but he cannot. She too is dragged up to the ceiling. She is confused. She has no idea what is happening to her. She sobs Sam's name, hoping he will help her. His name is the last word on her lips. He sees himself enter the apartment, pick up a cookie to nibble, collapse back on the bed secure in the sounds of the shower. Drops hit his forehead. Looking up, he sees what his nightmares had foretold. He is only able to escape when Dean shows up and drags him away. Flash. The hospital. Dean's room. This is new. Sam watches a nurse approach his brother in bed. She checks his IV and monitoring equipment. She pulls a syringe out of her pocket, injects it into the IV. As she turns, Sam sees that her eyes are pitch black. Dean's monitors go off, alarms ringing. Flat line. Flash.
Sam could feel his body once again, could shut his eyes finally. He sank to the floor, hands over his eyes. He had seen Jessica's body on the ceiling and had only imagined what her last moments had been like. Now he knew. He knew too much. He wanted to hide inside himself, but he couldn't shut his mind's eye. The demon had made sure of that. Now he could only close his outside eyes.
"You see, Sammy, you're all alone. Your protector is gone. John will either have to kill you, or you will watch me kill him. I think he'll fail. What do you think?" Getting no response, the demon smirked. "You have until midnight. Enjoy your last night of freedom because you will belong to me."
Sam didn't hear the door close. He rocked back and forth, a wail screaming in his head. He was alone. After what seemed like hours, Sam's mind finally refocused. He wouldn't be a trap for anyone. He'd find a way to thwart the demon's plans. Sam rose to his feet, looking for a way out. John had taught the boys how to find weapons in everything around them. The office was pretty bare. Sam opened and closed drawers looking for something. He had slammed shut one of the filing cabinet drawers when something sparked his thoughts. He reopened one of the drawers. He couldn't pull out the section that restrained files, but he could use it. Sam had despaired before but not to this intensity. He didn't want to be a pawn nor did he want to be consumed by a demon. Just the thought of what the demon threatened served to strengthen his resolve. Sam pushed back his sleeves up to the elbow and fingered the side of the thin metal edge. It should do the trick. Sam braced the drawer against his leg and pressed his wrist firmly against the metal lip. He pulled upwards as hard as he could and was rewarded with a line of blood. It wasn't enough, so he tried again. And again. And again. Success. The blood rapidly welled up in the line scored in his flesh rapidly. Sam switched and repeated the process with his left arm. It was harder this time since his right hand was slippery with blood making it hard to hold onto the drawer. His injured collarbone wasn't helping either. He looked at his arms, at the blood dripping down and realized that it wasn't flowing fast enough. He knew the demon would be coming back if for nothing other than to gloat. The bathroom. Sam filled the sink with water and stuck both hands up to his wrists in the pooled water. Now it was a race. He felt himself become shaky and braced himself so his wrists stayed in the water. He watched the blood form swirly patterns with fascination. With Dean gone, his world was over. The one person he could count on to help him could not help him any more. It was up to Sam, and he'd made his choice.
Sam heard a ringing in his ears and his vision was starting to go dark around the edges when someone grabbed him from behind. He struggled but having weakened himself, he couldn't hold onto the sink's edge. Sam was flung back into the room and sprawled on the floor. The demon stood above him. "No, Sammy. That's not the way out." His hands grasped Sam's wrists and fire sprang up, searing the wounds closed. Sam whimpered with the pain and his failure. The demon forced him over to the doorway and out into the room beyond. "It's a little early yet, but I can't have you ruining my plans." The room had a wooden floor with poles spaced down the length on both sides. A circle with a pentagram was drawn on the floor. From four poles were four long ropes that joined in a pile in the center of the circle. The demon dragged Sam to the center, threw him down. Two others emerged from the darkness and bound Sam's wrists and ankles tightly so that he was spread-eagled on the floor. Sam struggled against his bonds but there was no give. His left shoulder burned from the extreme extension. The demon stood above him once more, smirked, pointed to its watch and left. The room lights turned out. Sam was left in a darkness more complete than any he had ever known.