Day Two
Magnus watched the rays of the sun creep across the kitchen island where he sat as he breakfasted. A cup of black coffee and a single buttered piece of toast were all he allowed himself. Sitting silent, unmoving, he may have been carved from stone.
SPN
Dean scowled at his cell phone screen. Sam still hadn't messaged him back, not so much as a 'howdy-do' and it was really starting to bug him. Maybe their Dad was right and Sam had decided he was too good for them now that he was going to Stanford.
Still, Dean only half-believed that and so, when John slipped out to grab some breakfast, he sent Sam another text.
Sam, where are you? Text me, no, call me. CALL ME
Dean waited for about five seconds to see if Sam would reply before he actually called his brother himself. He listened as the phone rang and rang and rang until it went to voicemail.
"Hey, this is Sam," Sam's prerecorded voice said, "I can't answer my phone right now but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
"Sam," Dean said, "Where are you? What are you doing? I haven't heard from you. If… If you don't want to talk anymore I don't care but… just let me know you're still alive. Give me something. Please."
Dean ended the message and immediately felt stupid. Of course Sam wasn't ignoring him on purpose; he was probably busy with frosh week activities. Dean was certain he'd hear from his brother soon, Sam excited to tell him all the stuff he'd been doing, all the new people he'd met.
Dean told himself he was just overreacting. Sam was in California, not some warzone. The most dangerous thing that could happen to his brother was sunburn.
Shaking his head and telling himself not to look at his phone again until that evening- unless Sam called or texted, of course- Dean waited impatiently for his Dad to get back with their breakfast.
SPN
Magnus led the Brothers down the staircase, sending up a chorus of creaks and squeaks and groans. The boys blinked and squinted at them in the sudden light. Gazing at the captives, Magnus saw that, thankfully, they all appeared, if a little worse for wear, to be alert and in relatively good condition. He had been very displeased at the loss of two boys in one day and had hoped there would be no more.
Magnus' blue eyes fixed on the single black boy in the middle of the row as he spoke.
"I ain't doing this no more," he announced, "I want out. I don't want in any fraternity. Let me outta here."
Magnus smiled and approached the boy.
"I'm sorry, Jamal, your chance to leave has long since expired."
The boy's dark brown eyes widened, "Let me outta here! You can't keep me here! I want out! I ain't playing this game no more!"
Irritated by the boy's protests, Magnus reached out and backhanded him. Jamal quieted instantly, eyeing Magnus warily.
Magnus flicked his wrist, his hand stinging. He shouldn't have hit the boy, but he was making him mad. He saw that Jamal's lower lip was swelling and hoped that it would go down before the boy left here.
"Anyone else have any complaints?" Magnus asked the others. They all stared at him, wide-eyed, except for Sam who was glaring daggers.
"That's what I thought," Magnus continued, "You all had a long day yesterday and must be hungry."
SPN
It took a minute for Sam to close his mouth once Brother Titus had taken the gag out. His jaws ached but he ignored the pain. Sam's stomach cramped and he turned his face away from the spoonful of crusty oatmeal.
"Again Sam?" Magnus asked, tilting his head.
Brother Titus leaned forward slightly and Sam turned to face him. Sam smiled at the man and slammed his forehead into Titus' face.
The Brother dropped the bowl and spoon, splashing himself and Sam with moldy oatmeal, and grabbed his broken nose and swelling lips.
Sam leaned his head back, dazed, his forehead throbbing, blood dripping into his eyes.
Magnus stalked forward, shoving Titus out of the way as he did so and grabbed Sam's hair, yanking him forward.
"Now why would you do something stupid like that?" he asked Sam.
"That's for Matt and Ben and Jamal," Sam told him, blinking blood away as it streamed down the sides of his nose.
He expected Magnus to be mad. Instead, the blue-eyed man smiled at him, white teeth flashing.
"I knew you would be difficult to break," he told Sam, releasing his hair and patting it flat, "I just didn't think you would make it so that I was actually looked forward to it."
Sam frowned, wondering what Magnus was talking about. The man stood and looked to the other Brothers, who had all paused, watching Titus.
"That's enough," Magnus told them and they retreated, bowls in their hands, and then turned to Brother Titus, "Wipe your face."
Sam watched as Magnus led the Brother's upstairs. This time they left the light on, indicating that they would not be gone long.
"Why'd you do that?" Terry asked, "You got us all in trouble."
Sam didn't reply.
SPN
Don't look at your phone, don't look at your phone, don't look at your phone…
Dean reached out and turned the radio up, Metallica's 'Phantom Lord' thumping out of the Impala's speakers.
John allowed the music to play at a deafening level for about a minute before he turned it down.
"I need you to focus on this hunt, Dean," he told his eldest son, "Are you doing that?"
Dean nodded, "Of course I am!"
John glanced at him, "You sure?"
Dean glared, "This is my first hunt in a while without Sam. Cut me some slack, would you?"
John just shook his head.
"You need to stop worrying about Sam," John continued, "He sure as hell isn't worried about you."
Dean opened his mouth, wanting to tell his Dad off, but thought better of it and turned the music up again.
This time John didn't touch the volume control.
SPN
Sam couldn't help but smile when he saw Titus had two black eyes to go along with his busted nose and puffy lips.
"I wouldn't be so happy if I were you, Sam," Magnus told him. The blue-eyed man approached Sam and unlocked one of his wrists from the metal ring.
"Turn around," Magnus ordered.
"What?" Sam asked, confused.
"Face the wall!" Magnus snapped.
Sam glanced at Terry as he turned around, his friend just as bewildered as he was. Magnus threaded the chain for the handcuffs back through the metal ring and then snapped the cuff onto Sam's wrist once again.
Sam's heart rate began to pick up speed. He didn't know what Magnus intended to do to him but he knew whatever it was, wasn't going to be good.
"Brother Titus," Magnus spoke from behind Sam. The young man turning his head to peer over his shoulder and see what was happening, "I believe it's only fair for you to go first."
Sam heard a rustle of clothing; the sound of a zipper being pulled down and his heart seemed to stutter to a stop in his chest.
"No!" he protested, fighting to pull his hands free from the cuffs, "No! Don't!"
"Sam!" Terry cried beside him, eyes wide, expression horrified.
Titus grabbed the hair at the back of Sam's head and shoved his face at the wall. Sam let out a groan as his cheek scraped against the rough stone wall.
"Sam!" Terry shouted as his roommate cried out in pain.
The red-haired boy squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn't have to see what was happening to his friend, wishing his hands weren't bound so he could cover his ears and block out the sounds coming from right beside him. Terry felt his gorge rise as his friend's torture seemed to go on forever and he feared that he might be next.
"Oh God," Terry muttered to himself, "This isn't right, this isn't right, this isn't right…"
SPN
Dean broke the promise he'd made to himself and checked his phone as he and John sat down for lunch.
"What are you doing?" his father asked, peering at him from across the booth.
"I still haven't heard from Sam," Dean explained, "I've texted him, I've called him… but there's nothing. No word from him."
"I told you, Dean," John said, "He probably thinks he's too good for us now."
Dean shook his head, "You're wrong. Sammy wouldn't do that."
"Then what do you want to do?" John asked, picking up a French fry from his plate.
"I want to go to California and just check to make sure he's okay," Dean told his father.
"And what if he is?" John asked.
"Then I won't say anything else about it," Dean assured him, "I won't complain when Sam doesn't text me for days, okay? I'll shut up about it. But… I need to know. I just need to make sure he's all right."
John just shook his head in exasperation, "Fine, after we're finished with this hunt we'll go."
Dean frowned. He didn't want to wait any longer.
"But, what if-" he began to argue.
"Your brother is at college," John reminded him, "He's probably just swamped with homework or something. Here, now, we have people in real danger that we need to think about first. We get this job done and then we'll go to California."
Dean wanted to argue, wanted to remind John that this was Sam they were talking about and that his safety should take precedence over the wellbeing of some strangers but he knew it would be a battle that he'd loose. Instead, he nodded, conceding.
"As soon as we're done," he told his Dad.
SPN
Terry didn't remember much about the past two days. He of course remembered arriving at Stanford, shaking his parents off after his father insisted on telling Terry how proud he was, and his mouth nearly smothered him to death with hugs and kisses, he remembered meeting Sam, thinking that the taller boy had been a bit of a nerd, but liking him instantly anyway. He remembered how they'd gone out; looking for a club or group they could join. He remembered getting invited to what looked like a very fancy fraternity- Beta Theta Upsilon- and convincing Sam to come with him to the party.
Terry even remembered arriving at the fraternity house, how Sam had insisted on being a stick in the mud about the whole thing. He remembered accepting a drink from some girl who was grinning like she couldn't be happier to be serving a bunch of underage boys. He remembered how it had burnt going down, how it tasted of turpentine but, wanting to seem cool, Terry readily drank a second when it was offered, and a third, wanting so badly to impress the older fraternity members.
After that, everything went hazy, his memories fragmented. Struggling to piece together the events, Terry only had a slight understanding of what had happened to him and Sam.
Now though, peering through the darkness, struggling to see his friend, sitting close enough for him to reach out and touch if his hands weren't cuffed, Terry knew something was very, very wrong.
"Sam," Terry called to his friend, tears pricking his eyes, "Sam, are you okay? Please, say something. Talk to me."
There was no response, no movement from his friend.
"Sam!" Terry cried, "Please, please say something! Anything!"
"He's dead," Jamal, sitting on Terry's other side suggested unhelpfully.
"He's not dead!" Terry snapped, "He's not!"
"He's dead, like that other kid… Matt," Jamal continued, "He's dead and we're gonna be dead too."
"Shut up!" Terry snapped.
Matt's friend, a boy named Evan, whimpered. Dylan, the final boy in the lineup, seemed to be panicking, "You saw what they did to him! You saw! They'll do that to us too! Oh God, they're gonna do that to us too!"
Terry closed his eyes, grinding his teeth, "SHUT THE HELL UP! ALL OF YOU!"
The others fell silent instantly and Terry leaned to his left side, as far as he dared, "Sam? Are you okay?"
Terry heard his friend breathing, slow and ragged, then, so quiet he almost couldn't hear it, Sam spoke, "Dean… Dean… Please…"
W
Terry looked up when the overhead lights turned on suddenly, squinting against the brightness for a moment before turning to Sam.
"Sam," he murmured, quietly. His friend sat with his cheek pressed against the wall, eyes half-closed, mouth open slightly. It almost looked as though someone had thrown red paint at the young man; there was so much blood. Sam's face was a crimson mask from the blood that had wept from the gash on his forehead; blood had dripped from his wrists and down his arms during his futile attempts to pull his hands free from the cuffs; the back of Sam's legs and the dirt beneath him stained red.
Tears pricked Terry's eyes, "Sam."
His friend lifted his head ever so slightly at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
"It's okay," Terry whispered, "I won't let them hurt you again."
Which was a stupid thing to say, what the hell was he supposed to do, handcuffed to the wall? There was nothing he could do to prevent Magnus and the others from raping Sam again.
Sam peered over his shoulder, one side of his face scraped and raw-looking, his gaze fearful.
Terry looked at Magnus as the man began speaking.
"I'm sorry you had to witness that," he said, not sounding sorry at all, "Perhaps now we will have no more upsets going forward."
"What the hell are you doing to us?" Terry, steeling himself, trying to be brave, for Sam and the others, asked, "What the hell is this? It's not a fraternity isn't it?"
Magnus turned to look at Terry, tilting his head, "Have you been talking with Sam?"
Terry glanced at his friend.
"No," Terry replied, "I'm just not as stupid as you think I am."
Magnus raised an eyebrow and approached Sam anyway. The young man whimpered and cringed away from the blue-eyed man.
"Don't hurt him!" Terry begged, "He didn't say anything to me!"
Magnus, however, reached out and patted Sam's head like a dog before pushing his face into the wall.
"Why do you care what happens to him?" Magnus asked Terry, "You barely know him. I'd be more concerned what was going to happen to me."
Terry swallowed painfully, "You can't do that to people and get away with it."
Magnus chuckled, "Who is there to stop me? Please, tell me."
Terry didn't say anything. He looked over at Sam helplessly.
"If I can continue with no more interruptions," Magnus said, eyeing Terry. The boy looked away. He didn't want what had happened to Sam to happen to him too.
"Since breakfast was so rudely interrupted, you all must be starving," Magnus continued, and Terry warily watched one of the Brothers approaching him with a bowl.
"Afterwards, we can continue with the challenges," Magnus told them.
Terry glared at the blue-eyed man who continued to act as though this was some sort of fraternity hazing ritual when it clearly was something much, much worse.
Seeing that the Brother standing in front of him had another bowl of raw eggs for him to choke down, Terry closed his eyes for a moment, telling himself he could get through this.
Glancing over at Sam, he noticed no one was bothering to give him anything to eat.
SPN
"Dean," John tapped on the passenger's side window of the Impala, peering at his eldest son sitting with his phone in his hands.
"Dean!" John called his son's name, louder, getting the impression he was being ignored.
Looking up, his boy rolled down the window.
"Put your phone away and help me," John ordered.
"You don't need my help," Dean argued, "You're just interviewing witnesses."
"You told me you would focus on this hunt," John reminded him, "Now leave your phone and come with me."
Dean sighed and set his phone down on the dash, unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.
"I told you, once we're finished here we'll go to California," John growled, "So, the faster we get this over with, the faster we can go see your brother."
Dean straightened his suit jacket and glared at his father for a moment. He wished John believed him when he said he felt as though something was wrong and Sam wasn't just ignoring his messages. Sam had told Dean he would keep in contact with him, so for him to suddenly stop texting sent up red flags.
"C'mon," John said and put a hand on his son's shoulder, squeezing tightly.
Dean arranged his expression into a professional moue and followed John to the witness' house.
SPN
Terry listened to Magnus, hanging on the older man's every word. He wanted to do everything right and join the fraternity.
"Terry," a voice beside him murmured and the boy glanced over at his roommate.
He didn't think Sam was going to get accepted into the fraternity; he kept refusing to do the challenges and getting into trouble.
Terry, irritated that his roommate was trying to distract him, shushed him, "Stop it, Sam, I'm trying to listen."
His roommate didn't speak again.
SPN
Sam startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Magnus was going to hurt him again!
But, looking up, his heart skipped a beat. It was Dean! His brother was peering down at him, brow furrowed in concern.
"You… You found me," Sam whispered, tears forming in his eyes.
"We did, Sammy," Dean replied, shrugging out of his jacket, "Let's get you out of here."
Sam tears overflowed when his brother draped his leather jacket over his shoulders, still warm from his sibling's body heat.
"I didn't think you'd find me," Sam choked out.
"Shhh," Dean murmured, "It's okay now."
"DEAN!" a familiar, gruff voice called from upstairs and both brothers looked up.
"I have to go help Dad," Dean said and turned away.
"No, Dean, don't leave me!" Sam cried suddenly, terrified he wasn't going to see his brother again, "Stay with me!"
But Dean didn't listen, he crossed the basement and hurried up the stairs, gun drawn.
"Dean!" Sam called out as gunshots sounded from upstairs, tugging uselessly at his handcuffs, "Dean! Come back!"
W
Sam startled awake, squinting in the darkness, his brother's name on his tongue.
"Sam," Terry's voice spoke to him from the blackness, "Would you shut up? I'm trying to sleep!"
Sam didn't answer the other boy. A dream, it had just been a dream. Dean still didn't know where he was, no one was going to come save him, he was still trapped.
Sam felt tears well up in his eyes, real tears now, and let them overflow.
Author's Note:
Special thanks to mandancie for editing this chapter.
Thanks to only-some-loser, AmaraRae, elliereynolds777, AlxM, bumblebeecas, TweetyRulz, LotRia, whatnosheep and BatmanLeBu for reviewing.