Thanks to Allen92909, AlxM, Sagekitty (x2), and Pie Love Luci for your reviews!
Yes, the comfort part of this will be a monumental task for me to write, but after putting Sam and Dean through this, you know I'll have to make it up to them! But we still have a while to go on that front, so, enjoy a seriously angsty chapter. I blame my boyfriend for the deranged turn the second part of the chapter took. If it's too gruesome, or I should change the rating, let me know! (And I'll chastise him for his cruel idea!)
Fair warning: this story will get much darker before it gets better.
And I'm sorry I'm a week late on updating. I really struggled with this chapter. I'm not 100% satisfied but I wanted to move on to other things so hope it's good enough!
Pain, exhaustion, and, intermittent sleep wracked with nightmares left him disoriented when the two hunters woke him at five AM by shackling his hands and feet to the bars of the kennel. Cold metal bit into his burns and the acute pain made him more aware.
"You don' have t'do this!" he whined. "Said I'd be good."
"Them's the breaks, kid. If you wanna stay behind, we gotta make sure you're gonna be here when we get back," Reggie explained calmly.
"Wha 'bout food 'n water 'n the bathroom?"
"That's what this is for," Tim said from behind him. Sam tried to look up but his burnt skin was crusty and rigid. Tim crouched and slid something through the bars. Reggie grabbed it and after a sharp pinch to the back of his hand, Sam realized they had hooked him up to an IV. "Has essential nutrients and fluids so you should be fine. And you got the tarp for your other needs."
Reggie leaned forward and secured the shock collar around Sam's blistered neck. "We also got a camera set up so don't get cute and try to escape."
Sam felt the fight draining out of him. "Don' fink I could 'f I wan'd to."
"Good boy," Tim murmured and patted the cage. "We'll probably be back tomorrow morning. Have fun til then!"
They closed the curtains and gathered their belongings. With a sarcastic little wave, Tim turned out the lights and shut the door.
Sam glanced around the darkened room as their footsteps faded. He pulled weakly at the cuffs but it was obvious there was no way out of his current predicament. Part of him yearned for Dean, wishing his brother could save the day like he had done so many times before. But that desire was crippled with humiliation. He didn't want Dean, or anyone, to see him like this. Naked and dirty, starving, caged like an animal, strung out, and haunted by Lucifer. He was at absolute rock bottom and not even death could free him.
A soft breeze whistled around the cabin as he pondered an escape. There was no way he was getting out of this situation by himself. Would he be able to cry out for help before the shock collar cut him off? Even if he did, and someone heard him, who's to say his potential rescuer wouldn't just run away screaming? If he looked a quarter as bad as he felt, he would look horrifying. Diseased, probably. Okay, if he were to get to that point, then what? They'd said they were watching, would see if he tried to escape. If they were hours away, what would stop him? But, he still had that damn tracker, so he'd have to get someone to cut that out… Yeah, cuz that doesn't sound crazy at all! 'Hey, can you cut me open and remove a tracking device that was embedded in me because I was intended to be kept as a demon-killing slave? Awesome, thanks.'
He scoffed at himself and let his head fall back against the bars of the crate, even though the angry grind of his skin fought him the whole way. This just seemed so fucking hopeless. He honestly could not remember a situation as bad as this one. As far as he knew, no one would even be looking for him. Well, there was one… being looking for him. He shook the thought from his mind. No, there was no way in hell he was going to ask Lucifer for help. Talk about jumping out of the fire and into the frying pan! Or would it be the other way around? Considering I was just burned alive…
Goddam it, focus! he chided himself. He really couldn't blame himself too much, though. A significant amount of his thought and energy went to keeping the overwhelming pain at bay. He didn't understand how he was not unconscious from the continual excruciating onslaught, though he suspected Lucifer might have something to do with it. All part of his 'torture Sam until he says 'yes'' plan.
Voices outside the door interrupted his thoughts and he tried to gather the courage to shout for help. But by the time he cranked open his mouth and drew in enough air to his abused lungs, the voices had faded and his chance was gone.
He sat primed to scream at any possible moment for the next several hours, praying someone would walk by. Finally, gloriously, he heard laughter, a woman's sweet laugh. He inhaled quickly and shouted "Help!" as loud as he could. The shock collar punished him viciously but it would be worth it if that door opened.
He held his breath as he listened and exultant joy filled him as he was rewarded with the sound of feet coming up the stairs. The doorknob twisted and the door opened easily, interrupting Sam's relief with confusion. Tim and Reggie surely wouldn't have forgotten to lock the door, right? That didn't make sense.
A tentative voice called out "hello?" into the darkness of the room and Sam loudly rattled the cage, indicating his presence without his voice. The light switch clicked and Sam blinked away the bright orbs dancing in his vision to be confronted with a face he never thought he'd see: his own, albeit younger.
This Sam had a Stanford hoodie on, his hair much shorter and his face free of so much anguish. He approached Sam in the cage with a look of horror and disgust on his otherwise pleasant features.
"What the hell is happening here?" he spat angrily.
Sam buried his head between his knees. Figures that the only thing that would come to save him would be a hallucination.
"Are you honestly telling me this what will happen? This is what I'll become?!" The disdain in young Sam's voice was blistering.
"I-I didn't mean for—"
"You didn't mean for it to turn out this way? Is that what you were gonna say? How could you let this happen! I got the fuck out of hunting! Made a life for myself! Found Jess, we were gonna get married. And here you are, shaking like a fucking leaf, cracked out and starved. You make me sick. I can't believe you're gonna let me, with such a bright future ahead of me, turn in to you! How many fucked up decisions did you make to get here? How many chances did you have to stop this, to turn back?" When silence answered him, he kicked the cage. "How many?!"
"A lot!" Sam whimpered, shame bleeding out of every pore.
"And yet you threw it all away, for what? Because you knew better?"
Sam lifted his head but the fierceness of his younger self's gaze was too intense. He looked away before speaking. "I – I guess so. I thought I did, but I was wrong…"
"Yeah you were fucking wrong. Look at me."
Sam slowly brought his head up and met the violent stare he felt was razing his soul. He searched the hazel eyes for any shred of sympathy but found only loathing and revulsion.
"I hate you," young Sam hissed and Sam resumed hiding his shame in his curled up body.
"You should," he whispered.
"Why did you do this?" young Sam asked harshly, his fury clearly unappeased.
"The yellow eyed demon killed Jess, and it infected me with its blood when I was a baby… something was always going to happen…"
"So you're blaming this on fate? The yellow-eyed demon did something to you, and even though you could have saved Jess, and you didn't, you're blaming the demon? Fate and demons, huh? You don't share any responsibility in this epic clusterfuck?! You're a goddam coward!"
Tears pricked his eyes and he couldn't stop their advance. "I know, I know I am. I was afraid to face what was happening to me and Jess paid the price. I didn't want dad or Dean to know what a freak I was… But none of it mattered. Everything I tried to do only made it worse! I tried, man, I really did. I didn't want any of this to happen. I loved Jess, I still do, so much it hurts. I would do anything to go back and do things right."
"Oh really now?" a soft feminine voice chimed in from behind young Sam's towering form. Jess approached the kennel and Sam gasped with how beautiful she was. It always surprised him when he saw her, like his memories of her never did her justice. How had he been so lucky to be with someone so gorgeous, inside and out? Well, that was the thing — he wasn't lucky. He was cursed. She had died because of him. "You'll do anything?"
Sam nodded into his knees. "If I could go back and make it right, I would. I'd never leave Jess's side. I wouldn't go with Dean that night, I wouldn't ignore the visions… I'd save her…"
"What if I told you that you could save me, you could bring me back?" Her voice was almost musical and he leaned into the bars, striving to get closer to her.
"I would love that," he whispered. Gentle fingers reached down and stroked the crown of his head and he sighed with contentment at the balm of her touch.
"Then say 'yes' Sam, and you can bring me back, bring your mom and dad back, make everything as it should be in Paradise."
As soon as the words sunk in, he opened his eyes and flung himself to the other side of the cage, ignoring the burst of pain that vied for his attention. "Lucifer," he breathed. "Am I even asleep right now?"
Jess shrugged. "Does it matter? We're connected, Sam. When your mind is weak, the connection is much easier to forge."
Sam swallowed his fear and held Jess's gaze. "No, the answer will always be 'no.' I love Jess, I would do anything for her, but she wouldn't want me to damn the world for her sake. She's too good for that. She deserves better." He glanced at young Sam. "She deserves better than me. She wouldn't want me as I am now, anyway. I'm not even human anymore." Jess nodded, an odd mixture of sympathy and disappointment on her face. She drew her fingers out of the cage then faded away.
"That's right," young Sam began, "you're not human. You're a monster. A thing. You aren't worthy of the name Sam Winchester. You're an 'it.' A piece of trash that should be crushed and incinerated…"
The verbal abuse continued until words stopped having meaning in Sam's exhausted brain, and he gladly surrendered himself to sleep, not caring what nightmares waited there.
Sam was vaguely aware of the kennel moving, of shifting light beyond his eyelids. But he just felt so tired. And his body ached so much. What had happened to him? Had he run a marathon while he slept? Obviously not but… what was happening? The insistent pounding strafing through his body was the only reminder he needed: withdrawal. It had been days since he'd had a fix and he needed to sort something out now. Only how would he do that when he was locked up in a stupid cage? He'd have to—
"Hey, freak!" Tim shouted, focusing Sam. "Did you hear what I was saying? The kid is some kind of demon spawn, so you should be able to take him out. Here's what we know so far…"
Tim's voice faded from awareness as his overwhelming need for blood overcame him. It was loud and angry, pulsing in his ears, flashing in his vision. He felt the vibrations coursing up and down his body. The withdrawal was tearing at him, thin slivers of ragged desire peeling every nerve. Sweat was pouring off his body and his head pounded. Lightning strikes of ravaging hunger pierced his flesh. His fingernails felt like they were being drawn out with needles, the tender skin around them flayed and throbbing. His breathing became heavy as he tried to control the violent fire terrorizing his soul.
The kennel door opened and firm hands wrapped around his arms and pulled. His burnt skin screamed in protest but the cry was drowned out by the infernal torture gripping the rest of his body. A harsh slap cracked across his face and he focused his attention outside his body.
Tim was inches from his face. "Alright, freak, we're going in to gank the kid, and if we can't, it's up to you."
"I— I can't—I don' have i'— I—"
Tim slapped his face again and Sam groaned as his neck snapped to the side. "Shut up. You'll do as you're told, dog. Alright, we only have a little bit left, so it will just have to do."
Tim reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial. He screwed the cap off and wafted the air towards Sam. The scent hit him like a ton of bricks. Craving seized his entire being and it took every ounce of willpower not to beg for the vile substance. Sweat quickly began beading on his damaged skin and he could not suppress the slight tremor rumbling through his body.
"Look at you, you're a fucking junkie. You're disgusting! Pathetic." Tim brought the open tube up to Sam's lips. Knowing fighting was futile, he put up a token resistance to soothe his conscience before taking in the blood. It was cool and old tasting, but the quick rush of power was refreshing. And how quick it was. The few drops that had hit his tongue did nothing to relieve his withdrawal; if anything, it made it worse. But the hunters didn't care how Sam was feeling. He whimpered as they roughly pulled him forward and up towards the house.
A faint thrum overcame his agony and he focused on it, realizing it was actually a heartbeat. It was not his. A hint of sulfur threaded under his nostrils and he understood. There was a demon nearby. "There's – there's a demon here," he gasped between his pants for breath.
"For the kid?" Reggie asked.
"Guess so," Sam answered weakly, unable to focus on anything but the heart beat blaring in his head.
Screams and the sound of a struggle erupted from the second floor. Aborting their original plan of stealth, the hunters hauled Sam up to the door. Kicking it down, they drug Sam inside and up the stairs. They turned the corner to find a young boy standing between what looked like his parents and an angry blonde woman.
"Julia!" Tim called out. The woman turned towards them and her eyes flicked black. Sam felt his vision narrow to her and only her. He was pushed forward, Tim's voice hissing in his ear. "Kill her, now!" He lifted his hand and focused his power, but no fire flowed through his soul. Her hair billowed in the weak breeze and she laughed.
"Don't got the juice, huh, sweetheart?" the demon teased. "Just as well. Don't need you morons getting in the way here." She turned back to the young boy. "You, baby, are just so special. You don't know it yet, but you are gonna wipe the slate clean."
"What do you mean?" the mother asked, her voice shaking in fear.
"Your adopted little boy here," the kid's eyes widened and she smiled, "oh, you didn't know? Well, I'm your real parents. Mommy," she slid her hands down her body seductively, "and daddy," her eyes went black again and she smiled. "We made you and you're everything we wanted you to be. You are so powerful, fit to be at Lucifer's right hand as the Antichrist." She took a step towards the boy, her arm stretched out to grab him.
A shot rang out and blood sprayed out from the demon's shoulder. Sam was close enough that some landed on his hand. Unable to resist the temptation, he brought the finger to his mouth and indulged in the sweet taste of fresh blood from a living body. His eyes drifted shut and he let the shred of tingling warmth spread through his limbs. When he opened his eyes, he saw the demon facing them, her eyes pitch black, her demonic force flowing out of her. At the edge of his attention, he heard Tim and Reggie's groans of pain as they crashed into the wall.
Pure desire bubbled up through his physical agony and he felt his resolve crumple like dry autumn leaves under a boot. He launched himself forward, tackling the woman to the ground. His weight pinned her light frame as he sealed his lips around the bullet hole and he sucked in a heavy draught of her blood. His tongue probed the hole in her arm, coaxing more blood from the angry wound. Searing light erupted in his soul and instantly spread to every famished nerve. The dry channels filled to the brim and flushed out the detritus of misery and shame that had gathered there. He continued to drink, striving to slake the thirst that was threatening to obliterate his sanity. He couldn't fight the feeling of relief that consumed him, the sheer pressure that had been crushing the life out of him quickly burning away to ash. A part of him knew this was wrong, this was evil, but a much large part simply didn't care: he just wanted the unending hurt to stop.
Something painful scratched through his ecstasy and he knew he had to return. Fighting through the blissful mire, he felt he was halfway to sating his thirst when he felt himself pulled back by the shoulders. The animalistic desire to feed his addiction surged to the surface as he turned with a vicious snarl on his face. No sooner had he registered the gun point at him and the splash of agony in his side than had Tim shoved the cattle prod into his ribs. The sharp jolt of pain sapped his strength and he slid into Reggie's renewed grip.
Tim fisted his hand in Sam's hair and pulled his head close. "Enough! Gotta leave some for later." Tim tilted his head to Reggie, who went over and collected some of the demon's blood in a bottle. "Now kill the demon."
Sam growled at the order but was relieved to have been able to drink as long as he had. He turned to the demon, the vessel's body unconscious on the floor. With the demon so weak, Sam barely had to draw on his power to pull it out. The fiery light inside him rose up as if disturbed by a pebble before settling once the demon burned into the floor. He smiled with spite, pleased to destroy one more despicable creature.
Tim tugged on Sam's hair to regain his attention. "Now that you're all juiced up, take out the goddam monster over there! You think you get a rush from regular demon blood? Imagine the high the Antichrist will give you!"
Sam froze, his mind instantly warring with itself. Yes, the power he'd get would probably be immeasurable! His muscles tightened with excitement, his nostrils flaring, seeking the boy's scent. At the same time, sickening horror sieged his heart. It was a little kid! Who had done nothing wrong! He wasn't even possessed. It wasn't his fault who his parents were! There was no way he could justify any of this!
He was quiet a few moments as he struggled to suppress his unquenched hunger. "No," he forced out through clenched teeth. "He hasn't done anything wrong. He's just a kid."
Tim scoffed and wrenched Sam's head back, his disgust evident as he eyed the blood drying on Sam's face. "He's the fucking Antichrist! We need to take him out now!"
"He hasn't done anything wrong though!" Sam repeated. "He can fight it! He still has the chance to do the right thing."
Tim slammed Sam's head down into raised knee, eliciting a howl of pain from the young man as his nose shattered. "Sorry, Sammy, but seeing as you didn't do the right thing, I can't take that risk with anyone else. Now, I see a freak, I kill it. Just like your brother shoulda killed you the moment he found out what you were. I'm not gonna make the same humanitarian mistake. So, go drain that goddam demon spawn before you find out how generous I can be with these bullets!" Tim pistol whipped him and pushed him down to the ground towards Jesse.
The terrified child was standing protectively in front of his parents. The two locked gazes, the fear in each feeding off the other. The boy's wide eyes reminded him of a young Dean, memories of Dean taking care of him time and time again assaulting him. He couldn't do it, he just couldn't. He shook his head and looked down to the floor.
Over the pounding in his skull, Sam heard a murmured "stupid bitch" before a gunshot blasted far too close to his head. An obnoxious whine screamed at him and he couldn't hear anything else. Bringing his hands to his ears, he felt blood trickling out of one ear.
Not feeling any new pain, he looked up to see the father clutching the mother, who had blood pouring from her chest. The child turned and tried in vain to comfort his wounded mom. He stood and seemed to quickly assess the situation before spinning back to Sam with his own version of puppy eyes. His eyes darted to the hunters behind him before returning to Sam's. The kid spoke but Sam could not hear him. He focused his blurry vision and read the kid's lips: Do it. To save them.
"Are you sure?" Sam asked, struck by how odd it felt to speak but be unable to hear it.
The child nodded and produced a tiny pocket knife from his pocket, which he held out to Sam.
Sam swallowed his fear and and excitement and guilt and hunger and shame and crawled the few steps over to the trembling boy. He took the knife in his hand, a little Swiss army knife engraved in cursive with 'Jesse Turner.' He flicked the knife open and Jesse tilted his head back, offering his neck. Disgust and pleasure fought for control in Sam, but he willed himself forward despite this. His shaking hand brought the blade to the pale skin and he expertly, albeit carefully, sliced open the carotid artery. Blood eagerly burst forth and Sam hesitated, only leaning forward when a tiny hand grabbed his. As if Sam was the one who needed the comfort!
The warm blood flowed into his mouth and he instantly knew something was wrong. There was no electric pulse, no satisfying flare through his body, no energizing wave in his soul. His blood did not have the same effect as demon blood!
He instantly pulled back and looked at the two vile hunters, shaking his head. Tim's mouth was open and screaming but the deafening whine had not left Sam's ears. Tim raised his gun towards the parents and Jesse pulled Sam's body into his, urging him to keep going no matter what. The boy twisted his head around to look at Sam, his too-green eyes bright with tears. His lips were repeating 'please' and when Sam brought his gaze from his mouth to his eyes, all he saw was Dean and absolute despair overcame him. His own tear-filled eyes met Jesse's and he nodded, placing his bloodied lips back over the boy's wound. He used his teeth to further open the cut, hoping to speed up this gruesome process. Nausea filled him just as human blood filled his stomach. Self-hate swelled within him until the only things he knew were how much he despised himself and the overpowering coppery taste of human blood. It felt like an eternity, sucking down the lifeforce of another person, a child no less. Eventually the tiny hand holding his let go and not long after, the weakened pulse pushing blood into his mouth ceased altogether. He gently laid the boy's body to the ground and remained staring at it, everything in him numb.
Three gunshots in quick succession caused Sam to flinch and look around. The former meat suit and the parents were decorated with single bullet holes to the head, their dead bodies slumped over. "Why?! Why kill them?!" Sam cried, his anguish heightened by the futility of Jesse's sacrifice.
"Don't want any witnesses, right?" Tim explained callously. He stepped forward to study Sam. "You feel even more badass, now?"
Sam blinked back the tears and looked up at his captor. He shook his head. "It had no effect. You made me drink him for nothing. But I did what you wanted, so can you do me a favor?"
"Depends," Tim replied, seemingly disappointed in the outcome of this little experiment.
"With however many bullets you have left, please just rake them up my body before shooting me in the head."
"With pleasure!" Tim said but Reggie grabbed his arm.
"Wait, we gotta get rid of the bodies and clean up. I don't feel like carrying five people out!"
Tim nodded. "Yeah you're right. Alright, slave, get moving."
The two hunters made Sam do all the work, only assisting when it was clear Sam could not move the weight of the father by himself. They mocked Sam while he worked, teasing him for the way he was bawling, excoriating how disgusting his addiction was, laughing about how painful his various injuries must be. The gunshot wound from earlier was steadily seeping blood and Sam's strength was flagging. When he faceplanted while wiping up spattered blood, the two men howled with delight and kicked him while he was down. When he scrubbed the last stain out with bleach, he tossed the rag into the bucket and rose to his knees.
"Please, please kill me now," he begged.
Tim looked at him disapprovingly. "Really? And make us clean up your mess? Uh-uh. We gotta put something down to catch everything." Tim left the room briefly while Reggie kept his pistol trained on Sam. When he returned, he was holding a blanket with blue horses running across the tan background. "The kid's comforter. Thought it was fitting." He grinned like he'd told the world's funniest joke and he laid it down in front of Sam. "Get in the middle."
Sam did as he was told, crawling on his hands and knees to the center of the blanket. He pushed himself up onto his knees and looked at his torturers.
Tim lifted his gun and Sam closed his eyes. "Time to make ya Swiss cheese!" he laughed and pulled the trigger.
Within seconds sixteen bullets ripped through Sam's battered body and he screamed like he had never done before, screamed like his lungs were going to explode from the sheer pressure. The sound was abruptly cut off as a perfectly placed round found its home between his eyes. He sank into darkness and was able to cling to the fact that two good things had happened here: he'd gotten what he'd deserved and at least this time, he was able to choose death.
Next we'll see what Dean's been up to!
Reviews are love!