Spoilers: mentions of events from 'The Benders'
Traumatophobia
- Floor 2, part 3 -
oo0oo
"OK," Dean said, trying to remain calm while his brother's sudden disappearance was making him anything but, "If we split up… We'll split up, take a quick look in the cubicles, and then meet back here in the center aisle at each break. I don't like the idea of being out of sight any longer than necessary."
"Agreed. And Dean? We'll find him," Kole told him, knowing that the addition of a 'don't worry' would be useless and unappreciated.
Kole started for the left-hand aisle, so Dean took off towards the right. He knew Sam's legs were freakishly long, but that still didn't account for how quickly he managed to vanish. And, he couldn't be so far ahead that he didn't hear when Dean and Kole shouted for him. But, the alternative did little to ease Dean's trepidation.
If those freak-shows did anything to hurt Sammy…
He stopped mid-thought as he glanced into the first cubicle. Rather than a cage, inside was large and sturdy-looking chair. There were buckled straps on each of the arms and on the front two legs. Mounted on one of the walls was a small cage, the openings too small for a person to reach into, but Dean could see that it held various needles and knives. He could also see a large padlock at the bottom to prevent any of the rusty tools from going missing.
He pushed himself to keep moving, passing more cubicles containing the evil looking chair and box of utensils. By the time he reached the gap in the row, his breathing was labored due to his increasing anxiety.
"Dean?" Kole met him at the center aisle. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," he said, taking a deep breath. Then he noticed that she seemed a little pale. "You?"
"Yeah," she told him with little enthusiasm, not even trying to convince him or herself.
They looked at each other for a moment, as if to verify that the other was, in fact, unscathed. Then, without a word, they each turned to begin the next leg of the search.
If he wasn't so angry with them, Dean would have to congratulate the crazies in charge here. This place was actually quite a house of horrors. Not only did he see cages and chairs, but there were also tables with the same thick straps and cage of instruments. Some cubes had columns in the middle of them with various chains flowing from them, obviously used to keep people captive.
But what worried him the most was what he saw when he began a new row about two-thirds of the way to the end of the floor. Suddenly, the cubicles were empty. Well, that wasn't exactly true. There were varying amounts of blood on the floor and walls.
By the time he met up with Kole again at the center aisle, his body was practically vibrating with fury. He was about to let out a string of curses when he looked at her and saw that she had turned a whiter shade of pale than she was before.
"You OK?" he asked her. "I mean, you look like you're going to get sick."
"Yeah," she told him lightly. "Haunted house torture chambers are a lot different than the ones in wax museums…"
"Yeah?" He asked cautiously. Her eyes seemed a little dull, less vibrant than usual. When she noticed he was studying her, she shook her head and hinted at a smile.
"I'm… well, fine seems a strong word right now, but its close enough. I guess this is all a little too real for me. I mean, the pillories and stocks… and there were whips and cat o' nine tails and branding irons…"
Dean gave an involuntary shudder at the last mention, but either she didn't notice or pretended not to.
"I found blood," he said quietly, solemnly.
Kole scrunched up her nose a little and then sighed almost sadly. She turned around; ready to get the next search over with when they heard a familiar voice call out.
"Dean!"
---
Sam was finding it hard to force the haziness from his brain and simply wake up. His body still felt the tingling numbness induced by the outdated anesthetic in his system. He tried to move, thinking it would help. It didn't.
As soon as Sam attempted to bring his hands to his face, intending to rub the sleep from his eyes, he felt a sharp stinging in both of his wrists. With the clarity that the pain brought him, he discovered that his head was also pounding and his entire body had an unpleasant soreness due to protesting muscles.
When he finally opened his eyes, he realized why. Once again, he found himself back in the Benders' barn – only, it was different. No, he was in a haunted house, right? And the cage he was sitting in, locked in, was smaller than the one he had previously occupied. Lastly, this time his hands were tied and suspended above his head, the rope looping one of the bars. No wonder his entire body hurt.
He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but it was enough time for him to be moved (carried, dragged?) to a new location and strung up. He wasn't sure where he had been moved to, but figured he was still on the second floor of the haunted house. He could see that he was in a cubicle and could make out another across from him.
He tested the rope around his wrists and attempted to undo or at least loosen the knots. But the rope, more like cord really, was thin but strong. There wasn't enough slack to maneuver his numbed fingers properly and the knots were unfamiliar to him.
He gave up for a moment and let his head fall back, which turned out to be another wrong move. The world flashed and spun, along with his stomach.
He slowly lifted his head and took in his surroundings. That's when he noticed distant sound of screams. Once brought to his attention, they seemed to get louder and he could pick out the voices: Dean and Kole.
Panicking, Sam began pulling at the rope suspending him, willing it to snap. Not that it consented. The screams, painful cries of no-s and please-s and worse, were too much. He couldn't let that happen again. He couldn't remain in his little cage while he knew his loved ones were being tortured, possibly killed. He couldn't feel that helpless again.
A particularly loud and distressing yelp in his brother's voice filled his ears.
"Dean!"
---
"This way!" Dean said, already running to the far left-hand corner of the room, weaving in and out of cubicle rows to get there.
He stopped to listen for movement, not knowing which direction to head next when Sam obligingly yelled again.
"Dean?" Only this time, it wasn't quite as loud and seemed a bit fearful. Not fearful for himself but for Dean.
"Hang on, Sammy," Dean called to him. "We're coming."
At the very edge of the room, in the corner-most cube, they found Sam. At their sudden presence, Sam flinched, expecting anyone but his brother and cousin to appear.
"Dean? Kole?" Sam looked between them in utter confusion. "Are you guys all right? How did you get away?" Dean and Kole glanced at one another uncertainly.
All three fell silent when they heard a far-off growling, rumbling sound. It started out low but grew as it moved towards them. As it got closer, there was an accompanying metallic scraping sound.
"We're not the ones who're trapped in a cage, Sammy," Dean told him, distracted by quickly looking the area over. There was nothing on the walls or floor other than the cage. He started patting himself down, swiftly checking his own pockets. "Where is my lock-pick set?" He said out loud to himself.
"I think I've still got it," Sam told him.
"Think?"
"Well, I still feel kind of numb – I was knocked out when I was brought in here. I have no idea if I still have any of my weapons or tools."
Dean tried reaching through the bars to check Sam's jacket but he was just out of reach, and Sam couldn't move any closer.
"Let me try," Kole piped in and sat down on the floor, reaching her arm through the bars.
"My arms are longer than yours," Dean said, somewhat indignantly. "If I couldn't reach, I doubt you can."
"Yeah, well," Kole said as she fit her shoulder in between the bars and stretched her fingers out to reach Sam's pocket, "You're arms are longer, but mine are thinner… Popeye." She was able to knock the little vinyl case from the pocket and Sam kicked it over to Dean, who reached into the cage and grabbed it.
"I'll take that as a compliment to my muscle tone, thank you very much," he said with a smirk. Then, he handed her a large knife, the 'security' blade that his usually kept under his pillow. "Climb up," he motioned with his head to the top of the cage, "and work on cutting that rope away while I get this thing open. I don't really want to meet whatever it is making that noise if we don't have to."
Had the situation allowed it, Sam might have taunted his brother about how he seemed to be rubbing off on Dean. Sam's research-and-review style of hunting was definitely leaching through to Dean's why-wait, annihilate system. But, this wasn't the time.
"Got it," Kole said seconds before Sam felt his arms feebly fall to his sides.
"Me too," Dean answered as the cage door swung open. As Kole climbed off of the cage, Dean reached in and helped Sam crawl out. Luckily, Sam's legs were gaining feeling quicker than his arms because the three of them took off out of the cubicle at a sprint.
The roaring and snarling and scratching thing sounded as if it were in the next aisle. And gaining on them.
"I hope this door isn't locked, too," Sam panted.
The thought hadn't even occurred to Dean. He pushed himself to run faster to make sure they made it to and through the door before whatever it was, that huge loud thing chasing them, could catch up.
Seeing the door, the short and narrow door, he reached out and grabbed the handle to keep from passing by it before he could stop. He tried the knob and, when it turned with ease, he let out a lungful of air.
Sam got to the door next and had to turn sideways and duck down just to fit. Kole could stand up straight, but had to turn as well. As their predator's shadow became visible just two cubes away, Dean threw himself through the door and slammed it shut. He leaned against it, trying to catch his breath along with Sam and Kole. That's when he noticed –
"It's gone," he wheezed and listened for the noise, any noise. But there was nothing. "How could it just stop?" He reached for the doorknob, his over-active curiosity getting the better of him, and tried to turn it. The door was locked.
Traumatophobia: the fear of injury