Thanks to waitingforAslan and SamDeanLove for your reviews!
I had intended for this to be a much longer chapter, but my muse was bogged down with all the emotional turmoil surrounding US politics this week. I protested this week and endured threats of sexual violence for peacefully speaking my mind, so that was fun. But I wanted to keep to my once-a-week at the most update schedule, so here's a short chapter. Please accept my apologies.
When Sam woke up, he was back in the crate. He wasn't cuffed but the reason for that was not the generosity of his captors: burns covered his naked body in sprawling patches. Angry red blistering skin suggested second degree burns over most of his body. Lifting his head sent a blizzard of pain crashing through his brain. He pushed through it, determined to take in his surroundings. He was on the floor of a different room. It looked like a cabin, though nothing gave him any clue as to his new location. As he scanned the room, he found a tripod with a small blinking red light between the two unmade beds. It took him a moment to realize he was being recorded. He shifted his limbs to preserve his dignity and immediately regretted it. Agonizing sensation enveloped his whole being and any further contact with the bars or his body sent fresh cries of pain along his battered nerves.
He sat immersed in misery for what felt like hours, unable to process much of anything besides his current suffering and the shame of being filmed. His anguish was interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock. He stayed perfectly still and pretended to be asleep.
The door swung open and two sets of footsteps trudged in. "Tim, look at him!" Reggie exclaimed.
"Holy shit!" Tim murmured and approached the cage, the scent of hard liquor on his breath. "He's breathing and everything. That's fucking unbelievable."
"He's still in pretty bad shape though. Look at those burns. Do you think he's still healing or could Lucifer not fix him completely?"
"Let's check the tape."
Sam peeked an eye open to watch the hunters. Tim excitedly snatched the camcorder from the tripod and rewound the recording. The two men sat side by side on the bed, peering at the tiny screen, thus preventing Sam from seeing the video. Tim's thumb brushed over the buttons and the device emitted an ear-piercing screech with undertones of a throaty yell. Sam recognized it as the creature's enraged wails and his own dying screams. The sound was sanity-testing but the hunters just smiled. The yells turned to whimpers then faded out.
"So this was what," Reggie checked his watch, "about thirty-one hours ago?" Tim grunted in agreement. "Fast forward through this part. We know what a pile of ash and bones looks like!"
Sam felt his blood drain from his pulsing skin to the floor. A pile of ash?! They… they let me burn that long?! Bile crept up his throat and he fought to keep it down.
"Ooh, slow down, look. See that faint light? It's forming around the bones."
They sat in silence for at least ten minutes watching Sam's resurrection on fast forward, Tim sipping a glass of amber liquid. "The light went away but he still has the burns…"
"Wonder why…" Reggie bent down and began unlacing his boots.
"Motherfucker!" Tim growled, tossing the camera on the bed. Sam closed his eye before Tim reached the cage.
"What?!" Reggie asked, looking up.
"He moved not too long ago. Bitch has been awake for a while, now, haven't you?" Tim kicked the cage when he got no response. Sam bit his tongue to hold in the pain. "Answer me!" Tim roared, slamming his hands down on the top of the kennel. Whiskey leapt out of the glass and onto Sam's skin, igniting a new fire of unbearable agony.
This time he couldn't hold in his cry of pain.
"Thought so. You wanna tell me what your pal Lucifer is playing at here?"
"Nah-not my pal," Sam panted. "Don' know."
"Bullshit. Did he not heal you all the way because he can't or because he doesn't want to?"
Sam debated what to say. If he said it was because Lucifer couldn't, then it implied Lucifer wasn't as strong as everyone believed. Maybe that wasn't such a terrible myth to generate… If Tim and Reggie became complacent, then maybe Lucifer would find them and kill them! But then he'd be in Lucifer's hands and that would only be worse. So that left him with saying it was because Lucifer didn't want to… But he'd undoubtedly be forced to explain Lucifer's motive… Yet that could work to his advantage too. The more they tortured him, the more Lucifer refused to heal him, the more likely he would be to say 'yes.' It would be in the world's best interest for them to go easy on him. He doubted they would see it that way but it was the best play he had available.
Apparently Sam took too long to answer because Tim decided to up the ante. "If you're not gonna answer me when I ask nice, I'll just have to incentivize you. Reggie, hand me the rubbing alcohol."
Sam gasped and recoiled into the corner of the crate. "Please, no, I'll tell you everything you need to know, please!"
"Little too late for that, freak," Tim snarled, splashing a generous amount onto Sam's scrunched up form.
The resulting howl had Tim opening the crate and clamping his hand over Sam's mouth with alacrity. Scrambling for something with which to gag his captive, Tim found a dirty sock in the laundry pile and shoved it into Sam's mouth. Minutes went by as Sam writhed in agony before he slumped against the side, exhausted. Tears spilled out of his eyes and irritated his blistered cheeks.
Tim pulled the sock out and wrapped his hand around Sam's neck, pulling the young man forward. "Now listen here, you goddam abomination, what you need to learn is respect and obedience. I told John you were a little brat but he never listened. Me? I woulda beat the shit outta you every day til you stopped breathing unless I said you could. That's what's gonna happen now. So unless you want to take a bath in this stuff, you're gonna tell me what Lucifer is up to." He released Sam's neck and pushed him into the back of the crate.
Sam wished he could wipe the alcohol-infused spittle from his face but knew he would just make it worse. He did his best to look squarely at Tim. "Lucifer is extremely powerful, more powerful than you know. He could easily heal me completely. But he's choosing not to."
"Why?" Tim asked sharply.
"Because he's trying to force me to say 'yes' to being his vessel. He thinks that if you keep torturing and killing me, that it will whittle away my resolve, and I'll say 'yes'."
"Will you?"
"I have no intention of saying 'yes', but surely everyone has a breaking point…" Sam unwittingly broke out the puppy eyes.
Tim scoffed. "You want to talk about breaking points? You? You broke the world and you think we should go easy on you?" Tim shook his head. "You're ridiculous. But—wait, what stops Lucifer from just finding you now and torturing you himself?"
"Ca—" Sam stopped himself, knowing he shouldn't give these psychopaths any more information than necessary, especially if it could put Castiel, Dean, or Bobby at risk. "Cause," he recovered, "another angel put Enochian warding on my ribs and Dean's so Michael and Lucifer couldn't find us."
"Tim, do you think the fire would have destroyed it?" Reggie asked with concern.
"I don't remember seeing anything or not. But, we can always add wards of our own, just in case," Tim smirked maliciously and Sam wished he could ball up even more tightly. "That way, we can do anything we want and not have to worry about anything. Plus, I'm not sure I even believe you. Maybe Lucifer doesn't have the juice to fully restore you and you're just bluffing about everything else."
"I'm not, I swear," Sam said earnestly.
"Only one way to find out," Tim crooned and Sam watched his lips move in slow motion as he uttered "lots of experimentation."
"Please, don't," Sam whispered, his throat closing around his voice.
Tim slapped Sam's knee and smiled at the pained expression that briefly interrupted Sam's fear. "Ah, don't worry about it for now. We got another hunt for you to star in." He leant back and closed the kennel, replacing the locks.
"Already?" Sam asked quietly.
"What, was the baykok too much for you?"
"The what?"
"Baykok. Little nasty that you roasted with the other night. Malevolent spirit monster from the mythology of the Anishinaabe Ojibwe tribes," Reggie explained. "Some say they originate from the marred spirits of warriors who have committed particularly evil crimes, like fratricide or incest."
"Or starting the goddam Apocalypse," Tim spat.
That's why it thought it could turn me, Sam thought with horror and shame. My soul is marred… Too marred for even the monsters to want me…
"Anyway," Tim continued, "buddy of mine called in for some help. Weird deaths happening that don't really make any sense. He used a Ouija board to contact the victims and they said it was something demon-y. I told him we have just the thing for that." He grinned viciously at Sam.
"Just something demon-y? No other details?" Sam asked so that he could prepare himself.
"That and a location to check out. We looked into it today, only found a sheltered kid that seems connected with the deaths. We did some research, turns out he's adopted. No father is listed on the original birth certificate. We're gonna go visit the mother in the morning. It's seven hours away though, so I'll be nice and give you an option: you can stay here as long as you're quiet and well-behaved or we can load you up in the trunk."
Neither option sounded appealing but the idea of his burned body being jostled in the back of a car for hours on end seemed like absolute misery. "I'll stay here," Sam said. "I'll be quiet. You-you can even put the shock collar on," Sam offered dejectedly.
Tim smiled to himself, content that the breaking and training of Sam Winchester was going so smoothly.
Hope no one is offended by my use of the Baykok legend!
Reviews are love, which I could really use right now.