A/N: Thanks to everyone who has supported me so far!
If You Dare Challenge - #860 (Like It's Her Birthday)
Are You Crazy Enough To Do It Challenge - #66 (Afraid)
Fanfiction Writing Month: October [942]
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Almost two months later, Sonny did. Weeks go by as Sam and Dean settle into Sonny's Home for Boys. Dean's injuries faded; his formerly broken bones were now only sore memories. The large cuts had completely healed and were only jagged pink scars. Dean still wasn't eating much; he was thin and bony, and worked so vigorously with Sonny's chores that sometimes he passed out.
Both boys were looking much healthier physically, but their mental health was still extremely unstable. When Sonny brought the boys to dinner that night, they seemed generally fine. Dean, as usual, ate a couple bites of fish and then watched Sam eat. It was Jaime's birthday, so he brought out his cake near the end of the meal. Once they started to sing 'Happy Birthday,' Dean froze. Sam began to shake, shivering so hard that his fork clattered to the floor. But as Sonny was engrossed in celebrating Jaime's birthday, he didn't notice.
Sam tried to suck in a breath, but was unsuccessful. "Happy birthday dear Jaime," they sang, and the notes rang in his head, sickeningly sweet and reminding him of—
"—happy birthday to me," whispered the man, his frigid hands on Sam's bare shoulders. "Open your eyes, son," he ordered. Sam squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, whimpering. "It's time for cake."
"D-D-De-Dean," Sam sobbed. "D-D—"
The man struck him across the face so hard that blinding white pain electrified the center of his face, and blood spurted from his nose. He cried out for Dean again. Dean was always there to save him. Why wasn't he saving him? Hoping that Dean was there, Sam opened his eyes. He spotted two limp forms across from him, tied to chairs like he was, and another one beside him, and Dean was right there—
A partially transparent, filthy man stood on the other side of the table, blood dripping down his chin. Sam screamed, and the man's face flooded with rage; he began to flicker, baring his teeth. Sam was yanked away from the table, away from Dean, and then the onslaught began.
Sam sobbed silently, curling into a tight ball and rocking, rocking, rocking… The ghost's grating voice echoed in his head—
"Open your eyes, kiddo, open those eyes…"
He shook his head, crying harder and harder until he hit him again, this time a fist into his thin torso. "Open your eyes or I swear I'll break every bone in your body!" He heard a crack and a scream, and it took him a moment to realize that the scream came from his own mouth.
"Sam! Sammy!"
A hand brushed against his side and he shuddered, prying his eyes open like the ghost told him to.
Once the ghost dragged him back to his seat, bloody and bruised, Sam's eyes were wide open. He kept his mouth shut; the ghost had broken his left leg when he had cried out for Dean. He could see his brother in front of him, unconscious, as well as someone on his right… He recognized him. It was Max, his friend from school. He didn't dare speak because he feared the wrath of the ghost, but when Max finally woke up, their eyes met. "Sam?" he whispered, shivering with fear. His eyes filled with tears. "Where are we?" He sniffed. "Why—Sam, why are we here?"
Sam didn't want to speak, but he thought the ghost was gone for now, so he answered him. "A man… He took us here. He… You just gotta stay quiet, okay?"
Max struggled against his bindings, whining in fear and pain. "Sam, I wanna go home, I don't… I'm scared…"
"Just keep quiet, okay?" Sam whispered. "Then he'll leave you alone."
Max began to wail, crying, "No… I want Mommy…"
Sam shushed him again, his heart pounding. "Max, you have to stay quiet or he will—"
"I want Mommy, I want Mommy, I want—"
He screamed as the ghost appeared. Max cried out, and then the pale man flickered out and appeared behind him. "It's my birthday," he growled. "And you'll shut up unless I tell you to talk."
Max only cried louder, and then Sam forced his head forward, eyes open, as Max's sobs of fear melted into screams of pain.
"Sam, can you hear me? Sam—"
"Get away from him!"
"Dean, I'm only trying to help—"
Every time Max came back to the table, he began to cry again; the fifth time the ghost dragged Sam's friend back to the birthday party, Max said nothing. Sam turned his head and then shock washed over him, icy cold, and he vomited all over himself.
The side of Max's face was a huge, gaping, bloody gash. Max's eyes stared at him, blank and dull, and Sam threw up again.
"He's not breathing!"
"No, Sammy, no—"
"Dean, you have to let me help him—"
"No!"
"Dean, I'm not going to hurt him! Just let me—"
"Happy birthday" —Sam hiccuped— "to you… Happy b-birthday to you…"
The ghost grinned and clapped as Dean began to stir from his unconscious state. "Sam…" he moaned, but his brother didn't respond. He continued singing, his voice raw with a combination of shock, fear, pain, and dehydration. "Sammy…"
The ghost stopped clapping, turning his head towards Dean. Sam sang louder, tears streaming down his bloody cheeks, and then Dean was yanked away from the table.
"Dean, let me help him! He's going to die if we don't do something! ...Dean, please—"
Dean was back at the table, a party hat strapped to his head. His brown hair was matted with blood.
Blood…
Sam thought of Max and began to scream.
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