Okay, so I'm no expert on the after effects of being tasered other than what Dr Google tells me. Therefore, I'm taking some creative liberties (as I do with all medical stuff since I am not actually a doctor!).
I am a big believe in lots of detail (sorry, not sorry!).
Full steam ahead on the Sammy Angst Train!
OOo
"I see what's mine and take it."
- Emperor's New Clothes, Panic! At the Disco
oOo
I-35 South, Outskirts of Story City, Iowa
Thomas hummed to himself quietly, enjoying the soft classical concerto that poured gently through the car speakers. He'd already called Anna, informing her of his successful trip; she'd been so pleased. His eyes were fixed on the dark world ahead, the headlights illuminating the grey asphalt of the road. There were few other cars around; most people were home in bed by now. It was a work day, after all.
A muffled thumping noise reverberated around the car. Thomas checked both wing mirrors quickly – definitely not a blown tire. He would have felt it go.
Ah. Sam.
"Okay, Sam, just hold on a few more minutes" he called. He was surprised; the chloroform mixed with the narcotic should have been enough to keep him sedated for longer than they'd travelled so far. His nerves were in a worse state that Thomas had predicted. He would have stopped earlier, but he couldn't be too careful. At least they weren't in a city anymore. Not that Sam knew that. The thumping continued.
Spotting a junction up ahead, Thomas moved the car smoothly over, taking the slip road off. They travelled a little further, Sam's kicks becoming louder and more frequent. His charge was nothing if not incessant. He could hardly blame Sam though; it wasn't going to be an easy transition for him.
Thomas indicated and pulled into a narrow side road, driving until he found a small, secluded layby. Perfect. He slowed the car to a standstill and cut the engine. Reaching up, he turned on the interior lights, grabbed his bag from the passenger seat and stepped out of the car.
The thuds were loud and frantic in the silent darkness. Thomas scanned the area; there wasn't a single point of light anywhere – no streetlights, no headlights.
They were alone.
Raising the tailgate, Thomas found Sam lying on his back, his long legs facing the back end of the car.
"So much racket, Sam; there really isn't a need for it. There's no one around, see?" Thomas chided, motioning with one arm behind him as he reached into his bag. Sam dug his heels in and dragged himself forward, managing to get his legs to hang over the edge of the car. Thomas caught him quickly before he could stand. "No, no, no. None of that Sam. You're not going anywhere," he said gently as he turned and sat down on the edge of the tailgate, holding Sam's legs under one arm, keeping his grip firm when Sam kicked out and struggled. Thomas pulled a wide leather strap from the bag, lassoing it around Sam's ankles before cinching it tight and buckling it. Grabbing another, he reached under the hunter's thighs and repeated the process, locking his legs together.
Sam moaned and wriggled when Thomas dropped his legs, trying desperately to prise them apart. He couldn't. His wide eyes met Thomas' studious blue ones, fear gripping him as he watched the Man of Letters think.
He wasn't done.
"Over we go" Thomas remarked as he hauled Sam over onto his stomach. Selecting a new length of rope, he threaded it through the one wrapped around Sam's middle, just above his hands. Sam squirmed beneath him, fighting as Thomas forcibly bent his legs back. He growled, trying desperately to kick out. "I'm sorry, Sam, but I have no choice if you're going to insist on making such a ruckus the whole way there. Think before you act" Thomas reprimanded as he attached the rope to the straps around his ankles, creating a short tether. He finished and moved back, satisfied when Sam's attempts to move were sufficiently restricted. Thomas slid out of the back of the car and moved around to the rear passenger door. He leaned in and collapsed the seats, removing the barrier between the front and Sam. He smiled at Sam. "That's better. Not so lonely now. Right. Let's see what we can do about that gag" he chirped, leaning around and grabbing his bag again. Sam watched him suspiciously. Thomas cupped a hand gently under his chin, peeling back a corner of the duct tape, apologising as it pulled at Sam's skin, making him wince. Once it was removed, he balled it up and caught Sam's expectant look. He sighed, shaking his head.
"Not yet, Sam" he answered the unspoken question, pulling a black bandana from the bag. Sam groaned and shook his head frantically, trying urgently to wriggle away from his captor but he could barely move. Thomas folded it and hooked it around his mouth, tipping Sam's head down as he tied it tightly behind his head. He brushed a hand back through Sam's hair comfortingly, the younger man grunting indignantly at the unwanted contact.
Thomas got out and shut the door, returning to the back of the car, where he retrieved his bag. He shut the tailgate and made his way back to the driver's side. He slid back into the seat and turned to face Sam, opening his mouth to speak. He frowned. Sam had rolled onto his side, despite his restraints, panting heavily, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his brow. He just wasn't going to lie still, was he? Thomas sighed; if he left Sam like that, he was likely to injure himself, particularly given the state of some of the roads they were going to travel down. The last thing Thomas wanted was for Sam to be thrown around when they went around corners. And he was going to wear himself out trying to get free. Poor lad – he was clearly too upset for his own good. Thomas couldn't risk sedating him, not after he'd already done so and it hadn't worked.
Well, better safe than sorry.
Reaching over, he pulled two adjustable nylon straps with metal carabiners on both ends from the bag – tie downs for securing heavy cargo on truck beds. Getting out of the driver's seat again, he made his way back to the rear of the car and lifted the tailgate. Thomas reached for the luggage hook high up on the left side of the trunk. He clipped on one of the carabiners then turned to fasten the other end around the tether between Sam's wrists and ankles. He grabbed Sam's legs, helping him back onto his stomach. Sam twisted his head, watching him in confusion, breathing heavily through his gag. Without a word, Thomas began adjusting the strap, tightening it.
When he was satisfied, he clipped the carabiner of the second strap to Sam's tether and stepped over to the right-hand side of the trunk where another luggage hook mirrored the first. As he secured the final carabiner, he noted the horrified whimpers escaping Sam's gag. He understood Thomas' intentions and knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He writhed desperately anyway.
As Thomas tightened the second strap, it tugged on Sam's tether. He moved across to the first strap again and tightened it further. By now, the two straps were pulling against each other, holding the hunter firmly in place, subduing him. Just a few more adjustments and the straps were so taut, they plucked the rope away from Sam's body, hoisting up his ankles. Sam could squirm as much as he pleased, but there was no longer any slack for him to roll over. He would remain in this position for the duration of their journey: nice and snug, safe and sound.
He slammed the door shut against Sam's frustrated howl, slipping back up into the driver's seat. He adjusted the rear-view mirror so that he could monitor the Winchester as he drove. The hunter was glaring up at him, furious, but helpless to object. Thomas sighed and gave a tiny, apologetic smile as he started the car.
"Oh, Sam, I realise you're not comfortable, and we've got a long road ahead of us, but trust me: I'm working in your best interests. I promise."
oOo
Mason City, Iowa
Consciousness was tidal; ebbing and flowing, within his grasp and then slipping away again. The harder he fought to rise above it, the harder it was to hold on to. Somewhere, deep within the hunter's subconscious, Dean knew he'd been drugged. Tasers hurt like hell but waking after being shot with one wasn't this hard.
Somewhere out beyond the heavy blanket of grogginess, he could hear the shrill ringing of a phone. Why wasn't Sam answering it? It was so irritating. All he wanted to do was sleep…
He shouldn't though. Why not? There was a reason. Something important. He'd lost something. Something he needed. What was it? Sam would know.
Sam…
A deep guttural moan reverberated around the small motel room as Dean reared up above the clawing fog in his head. Everything ached. Red hot agony throbbed through his left shoulder blade as awareness began to echo through his body. He was lying on something hard and flat. Not a bed – of that he was certain. He should probably open his eyes. That would help.
Dazed green eased open, blinking drowsily, fighting to focus. A dark brown stretched out beneath his cheek, the closest sections blurred. Probably a good thing, really; who knew what really lurked in a motel room carpet…
But why was he on the floor?
Frustration fuelled Dean as he slowly pushed himself upright, his arms trembling. His memory was blank and fleeting; the hint of it bubbling just beyond his reach: like when he heard a song and tried to remember its name but the more he tried the harder it was to remember. He managed to get upright, falling back against something – the bed – which shot pain straight through his shoulder when he landed on it. Groaning, he winced, reaching a hand up to probe at the sore area on his back. He let himself just sit there for a moment, head back against the bed, eyes closed, legs stretched out, tensing and untensing different muscles to see what hurt. The conclusion? Everything.
"Sam? Dude, I think I'm dyin'" he moaned, wanting his brother's sympathy. Silence answered. Dean's brow creased and his eyes opened. He hauled himself up and turned, peering over the edge of his bed. "Sammy?"
The room behind him was empty. His memories of earlier tugged harder. Slowly, one by one, they slotted into place before avalanching out of control.
Case files. Phone call. The Impala. Stupid kids. Sam on the bed. A stranger.
Sam being taken.
Dean's heart stopped.
Adrenaline surged like wildfire, launching the Winchester to his feet. Pain forgotten, he stumbled towards the door, yanking it open and almost falling out into the darkness. He looked around wildly at the deserted parking lot. There was no one there.
"SAMMY!" he yelled, not caring who he woke. In the distance, a dog barked. He ran to the Impala, cupping his hands and peering inside. Empty. This couldn't be happening. He'd just got Sam back! Yanking his phone from his pocket, he squinted down at the glare of the screen, noting a missed call from Cas and the time: 1.36am. He'd gone to the front desk around 10.45pm. His mouth went dry.
Sam had been gone for nearly 3 hours.
Swiping quickly, he pressed the call icon next to his brother's name.
Then he prayed.
oOo
I-35 S, Outskirts of Elkhart, Iowa
Sam dropped his forehead to the floor of the car, panting heavily. He rested, trying to rein in his helpless frustration. They had stopped again, Thomas reassuring him that he wouldn't be long. Of course, that was no reassurance at all. Sam hoped – prayed – that he got hit by a car or mugged; anything that meant he couldn't come back. Not that Sam was under any illusion that he could free himself. He'd tried – tried like hell – but there was absolutely no give in any of his restraints. The straps anchoring him in place remained taut and unyielding, the rope around his wrists had rubbed and chafed and the more he twisted his hands the tighter it got. Thomas was no fool; he knew all of Sam's tactics after nearly four months of keeping him controlled. The worst part was that Sam knew he would go to the extremes; the Englishman had no qualms with that at all.
No, his best chance was someone else finding him. If Thomas didn't come back, someone would eventually notice the abandoned car. Or Sam had to get the car noticed. But, try as he might, he couldn't even rock the damned thing. He strained and wriggled, but the short tether between his wrists and ankles left him unable to kick out and he wasn't close enough to either side to try and make a noise with any other part of his body. Outside, the world was dark; Sam had no idea where they were. They could have been in the middle of nowhere or at a rest stop. He couldn't see anything out of the windows.
Something pulsed against his leg, making him jump. Shifting slightly, lifting his head, he frowned as a soft vibrating sound rumbled through the floor of the car and tingled against his leg.
His phone.
He couldn't believe it! Thomas had actually forgotten to take it!
Hope soared through him and he thrashed wildly, bucking his hips and tugging desperately on his wrists. If he could just reach into his pocket, he could text Dean. Then this whole nightmare would be over. The rope securing his wrists to his torso refused to budge and he growled in annoyance as he tried to inch his fingers towards his pocket. They weren't even close.
The buzzing stopped.
Sam collapsed, letting the straps hold his weight as he regained his breath. It had to have been Dean. It was fine; it was on vibrate only; over the sound of the car, Thomas wouldn't even realise he had it.
Sam just had to get to it before he noticed.
The lock popped on the driver's door, signalling Thomas' return before he opened it. Sam glared balefully up at him as he climbed in, holding a takeaway coffee cup in one hand which he placed in the cup holder by the gear shift.
"How are you holding up Sam? Are you alright?" he asked, with what seemed to be genuine concern on his face. Sam averted his gaze, turning his face away and glaring up and out of the window petulantly. "Now, Sam, we've always had an honest relationship. I know this is hard for you but it will be so much easier if you cooperate. Manners don't cost anything, you know."
Manners? What the hell did Thomas know about manners? It was hardly like he was expecting a real response from the Winchester with the insufferable gag in his mouth. Sam huffed, still refusing to look at him. It was his choice and currently it was the only one he could exercise.
He heard Thomas sigh, watching him pull out his phone in his peripheral vision.
"I'm sorry for the late call, Anna, but I just wanted to check in. We've stopped for a bit of a break but we'll be on our way again shortly. Are you alright?" Thomas asked.
Anna? Wasn't she…?
Sam's stomach plummeted. She was Toni's housekeeper. Sam had had barely anything to do with her so why was she here? What the hell did they want with him? Surely they had to know that there was no way Sam was ever going to say yes to Lucifer now? Thomas was smart; he knew better than that. Sam frowned in confusion as he slid his curious gaze back towards the Man of Letters.
You took someone very dear to me. I'm going to be repay the favour.
Thomas' remark to Dean rang in his ears but still it didn't make any sense. They had to know Dean would come for him. With a sinking feeling, the Winchester realised that maybe that was exactly what they wanted.
He jumped when he felt his phone start to vibrate again. His eyes widened. No! Not now! The gadget rumbled loudly against the floor. Sam tried to tilt himself to the side, to move the device away from the hard surface but he couldn't get enough leverage. The noise seemed deafening.
"Yes Anna I-"
Thomas looked in the rear-view mirror at Sam. The hunter groaned loudly, thrashing his head, trying desperately to cover the noise.
"Hang on, Anna. I'll call you back. Sam needs me." He hung up his own phone, the vibration of Sam's still ringing in the hunter's ears. Thomas opened the car door, disappearing from view. The phone stopped. Sam huffed with relief. Maybe Thomas hadn't heard it.
Time slowed.
The passenger door on Sam's left opened and Thomas leaned in, hovering over Sam who looked up at him through the locks of hair that had fallen over his eyes.
"Is there anything you want to tell me, Sam?" Thomas asked, his tone stern and patronising. Sam shook his head. Thomas frowned. "I wish you wouldn't lie to me. Where is it?" The hunter just stared up at him silently. Thomas scooted in, kneeling on the collapsed seat as he leaned forwards, balancing on one hand as the other groped at the back pockets of Sam's jeans. Sam's angry shouts were mere whispers as he writhed helplessly. The straps held him in place. Thomas' hand moved down to his left pocket, pulling out a jack knife, which he threw onto the front passenger seat. He reached over Sam, ignoring his hushed protests, aiming for his other front pocket. Sam tried to rock, to press down on that side so that the older man couldn't reach in. He pressed his hips down; they were the only part of his body he could really move. Unfazed, Thomas grabbed the rope that was wrapped around his middle and pulled, tilting Sam over an inch or two. A hopeless whimper of frustration sounded from the Winchester as he felt his phone glide smoothly out of his pocket and into Thomas' hands.
The Man of Letters held it up, swiping at the screen as Sam wrenched his body angrily, wanting nothing more than to throttle his captor there and then.
"So it would seem Dean finally woke up" Thomas remarked, turning the phone and showing Sam the two missed calls from his brother. Turning it back, Thomas switched it off and levelled Sam with a stern look. "This is your first warning, Sam. You know I'm a fair man but I don't like being lied to. That's not a display of trust, is it? I'll make allowances because you're obviously stressed, but I won't accept such defiance in the future. Do you understand?"
Sam scowled up at him. Thomas reached out and grabbed his chin, tilting his head up.
"I said: do you understand?"
Sam grunted, trying to pull away. Satisfied, Thomas let go and stood up. Sam's eyes followed his phone. "You won't be needing this again. I think the car's weight will be enough to break it, don't you?" Sam's eyes widened and he cried out as Thomas slammed the door shut. A moment later, he was back in the driver's seat, setting up the car's Bluetooth so that he could call Anna back. He reversed, the car bumping minutely as it rolled over Sam's phone.
Sam hung his head, defeated.
oOo
Mason City, Iowa
Dean nearly threw his phone in vexation. He hadn't expected Sam to pick up – not really. If his abductor had been meticulous enough to orchestrate taking Sam in the middle of a hunt, he wasn't going to be the type of guy to let him hang onto his phone. The Winchester had half-hoped that Sam's assailant would pick up – do the stereotypical thing of goading Dean – but he didn't. By the time he called for a third time, Sam's phone went straight to voicemail. It had to have been turned off. There was no way Dean could track its GPS if it wasn't live.
Rather than throwing the phone, he flipped it over, swiping Cas' number. The angel picked up on the second ring.
"It was a dead end, Dean. The trail went co-"
"Sam's gone!" Dean interrupted, cold realisation washing over him as the shock began to set in. He had let it happen. He had watched and done nothing.
Silence met him from the other end.
"What do you mean 'Sam's gone'?" Cas asked, his low voice grainy over the connection. Dean dragged a hand down over his face as he sat heavily on the edge of the bed.
"He was taken. I stepped out of the room for a few minutes and when I came back…" The image of his brother on the bed flashed through his mind, bringing a wave of nausea with it. He swallowed it back down. "Some guy was here. He tased me and took Sam. I only just woke up. It was hours ago, Cas; he could be anywhere!"
"Where are you Dean?" Cas' voice stayed calm, anchoring the hunter.
"Comandeer Inn, Mason City."
"Stay there. I will be there as fast as I can. I know you'll want to head straight out but it's pointless. If you don't know where Sam's gone, we need to get all the information we can first from your room."
"Drive fast" Dean murmured as he ended the call. It went against every instinct Dean had, but he knew the angel was right. He couldn't do this alone and he was in no fit state to drive as it was. His body trembled and twitched, dark spots constantly popping up in his vision. His hands quivered as he fought back tears, swiping at his next contact and waited for it to connect.
"Dean? Are you okay?" Jody's voice, thick with sleep, washed over him like a comforting embrace. Dean's voice was small, fractured.
"I need you, Jody. Please come."
oOo
I-35 South, Outskirts of Overland Park, Kansas
Thomas sighed, content. Was there truly anything better than a quiet road and Beethoven whispering up through the speakers? It was pure aural bliss. Of all the classical artists, Beethoven was his favourite, his most treasured. The composer made him feel so many emotions; he wept during the tender notes of Fur Elise, felt the power of the Fifth Symphony soar through his veins and let his heart sing in Ode to Joy. Now, the delicate tones of the Moonlight Sonata washed over him, relaxing the tension from his shoulders and clearing his mind. It had been a long day and drive, yet it had been worth every second.
He checked the rear-view mirror, smiling softly at his ward. Sam was lying with his head turned to the side, resting it on the floor. He had been understandably distressed after Thomas had confiscated his phone, but it wasn't like Thomas had had a choice. Sam had to have known that; he couldn't blame his guardian. The hunter had grown quiet, relaxing as Thomas played Beethoven, helping Sam take his mind off his discomfort. He had encouraged Sam to try sleeping, but he was a stubborn one. That was nothing new, although Thomas hadn't seen the defiant glint in his eyes appear so strongly since the first time they'd met. He smiled reminiscently.
"Taking care of you has been my highest priority for the last four months, Sam," he mused, catching Sam's eye when the hunter lifted his head. The hunter glowered silently up at him through the bangs that had fallen over his eyes. "We've always had a mutual respect; you can't deny it. I know what Miss Toni did to you was hard – I'll admit: even downright cruel at times – but I was always there to pick you up afterwards. Your wellbeing is important to me; I know you think I'm being a tad severe but I'm only trying to protect you…" The hunter growled in response, apparently unconvinced, so Thomas tried reassuring him. "It's what I've always done – right from our first day together. You were boisterous, rebellious; the same as you are now, but we worked through it then and we'll do the same again." As he spoke, Sam's indignant frown collapsed into a wide-eyed look of alarm. He shook his head fervently, whimpering through his gag. Thomas gave him an encouraging smile.
"Don't you remember all the times I helped you?"
oOo
Kensington, London: 4 months earlier
Sam Winchester was a most curious creature. He possessed a strength of will unlike many Thomas had seen, even amongst the Men of Letters. The way the hunter had fought was savage and desperate when they had escorted him inside the house. It was a brutality Thomas hadn't come across often. Hunters were just thugs and he knew that yet…there was something different about Sam Winchester.
Toni had ordered him to be left alone for a few hours, despite Thomas' cautions about his reopened leg wound. James was much more carefree about using pain as a weapon than Thomas had ever been. Sometimes it just wasn't necessary; Thomas had caught Sam – James had had no need to disturb the wound other than to satisfy his own maliciousness.
The Man of Letters had descended, with James, into the room adjoining Sam's cell where they could watch the hunter through the two-way glass. The hunter was scouring his room inch by inch, his limp pronounced as he worked his way around the whole room, studying, calculating. It was quite astonishing; Thomas had expected him to be kicking at the door still, creating a racket and being generally, well, thuggish. To see the calm façade of a man who was calculating, scheming and using his mind without panicking brought admiration to the forefront of Thomas' mind. Yes, Sam Winchester was a hunter but he was not as brutish as the stereotype suggested. However, Sam was arguably more dangerous than a regular hunter. But he was also more likely to respond to reason.
Collecting his keys and his bag, Thomas proceeded to the door of the cell, James trailing behind him. He opened it cautiously, ready to slam it shut at a moment's notice, but nothing happened. Slipping inside quickly, he saw Sam on the opposite site of the room, a wild, coltish look in his eyes when he saw James blocking the doorway behind Thomas.
"Alright, Sam, we're going to take this nice and slow, okay?" Thomas soothed, holding his hands up, showing that he was weaponless. Sam glared at him suspiciously, his body taut. "I'm here to help you. I would rather not resort to violence."
"I wouldn't mind" James grinned malevolently. Thomas ignored him.
"I can imagine that your bullet wound is rather sore by now; I'd like to help with that." His tone stayed soft and calm as though he was confronting a feral beast. He stepped closer. "But to do that, I need you to cooperate with me. I know it won't mean a lot to you yet, but I promise I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to help. Can you let me do that?"
He watched the hunter shift on his feet, favouring his right leg, tension radiating from him in waves. His eyes constantly darted between Thomas and James, trying to watch them both simultaneously. "James won't hurt you while I'm here, Sam. You have my word."
James snorted but didn't move. Sam stared at them both warily, but eventually his eyes fixed on Thomas. He gave a small nod. Thomas smiled encouragingly.
"Okay, good. I need you to move to the bed and sit down for me, Sam" he instructed, keeping his voice smooth yet firm. Sam limped to the small bed and eased himself down, groaning in pain as he winced. "Good lad; thank you, Sam" Thomas praised as he stepped forwards. He set his bag down on a small table positioned over to the left of the bed, pulling out a black nylon strap with two carabiners on each end. Sam's eyes widened and he shifted uneasily, his gaze flicking between the two men. Thomas approached him, keeping his hands up. "Alright, Sam. Now we don't know each other yet and I can't risk you bolting so I need to secure you while I do this. However, if you let me do that, I will make you more comfortable by removing your gag and giving you some water; I'm sure you're thirsty. Can you do that for me?" he explained, watching the Winchester carefully, prepared for trouble.
Sam sighed deeply and closed his eyes, bowing his head and giving a small nod. He was smart; he'd had one failed escape attempt that day and with a wounded leg and James in the doorway, he wasn't likely to get another chance now. Reason told him that getting a few comforts back was a fair trade for his cooperation.
Thomas leaned around him and clipped one carabiner to the metal frame that ran along the long edge of the bed, looping it through Sam's wrists before clipping the second one. As promised, he reached up and untied the cloth from around Sam's mouth, pulling the wad out as well. Sam groaned and closed his jaw, letting the muscles finally relax. He licked dry lips as Thomas unscrewed a water bottle and held it up for him. Sam drank greedily like he hadn't had anything for days, only slowing when Thomas tipped the bottle downwards.
"That's it, Sam, well done. See? You can trust me." Thomas smiled, taking the bottle back when Sam finished it. He put it on the table and collected his medical kit. "Now then, let's get that leg sorted, shall we?"
oOo
Remember it? It was hardly like Sam could forget it. It was his first taste of captivity within Toni's household, the first time he'd had to stoop to cooperating just to get a fleeting whisper of what felt like control.
Lying there, unable to argue or interrupt Thomas' galling reminiscence was beyond frustrating and, try though he might, none of his muted protests stopped the Englishman from recounting his fond memories. Watching Thomas' almost blissful expression in the mirror was sickening; he honestly seemed to have enjoyed 'helping' Sam (it definitely wasn't the term Sam would use) and clearly thought that Sam felt indebted to him.
Contempt filled the Winchester; Thomas was abhorrent. Yet terror seeped through his veins slowly like ice. Toni had put him through hell and there was no telling what Thomas was going to do. He'd given no hints about what he wanted with Sam for the whole drive other than that he was going to 'care' for him. The notion scared the hell out of him.
What he needed was to find out where he was going. Any kind of landmark would do – hell, even seeing the terrain would help. The darkness was slowly beginning to dissipate, turning the world grey rather than black as dawn approached. When Thomas eventually stopped the car, Sam could use that information when he prayed to Castiel. They would find him. Sam felt the car slow and curve around a sharp bend, the straps straining against his body.
"We're nearly home" Thomas announced, a smile in his voice. Panic clawed at Sam. He needed to get out. To get home.
He needed Dean.
It made him feel twelve years old again to admit it, but Sam didn't care. Dean had always been Stone Number One, never more so than he had been for the last few days. He couldn't do this on his own – not again. The muscles in his arms stood out taut under his skin as he gave his arms yet another tug. His wrists were raw and painful after hours of struggling. He was incredibly stiff, particularly his knees; even if the opportunity arose, he wasn't convinced he'd even be able to run. No, he needed to concentrate; he had one shot to see where he was so that he could help Cas.
The car slowed as his heart raced.
Thomas turned off the engine and stretched. Bastard.
"Hang fire, Sam; I'll only be a few minutes" he remarked as he got out of the car. Yes, because of course Sam was going to be able to do anything else. The hunter rolled his eyes, grunting as he tried to rear up to see out of the window. He knew he wouldn't be able to see anything – he hadn't when they'd stopped before – but he had to try.
We don't get to quit in this family.
He would never quit; he would never stop fighting. If Thomas wanted a fight, then that was what he was going to get. You're not strong enough and you know it. The tiny voice of doubt goaded him again. He wasn't the same Sam he had been when he'd first been captured so long ago; he was a mere shell of that hunter. But he did have one advantage; he knew that his brother was alive. Alive and hunting for him. And Sam would do his damnedest to help Dean out.
The passenger doors on either side of him opened. He looked up anxiously, first at Thomas, on his left, then at Anna who appeared on his right, the pair of them staring down at him.
"Good morning, Sam," Anna greeted briskly, "I hear you've been a bit of a nuisance already."
He frowned up at her, unaware of Thomas coming up behind him. Sam grunted in surprise when darkness suddenly descended.
Thomas was quick to fasten the blindfold snugly around Sam's eyes when the hunter realised what he was doing. He howled frantically, shaking his head, trying to dislodge Thomas' grip but the Man of Letters was not to be dissuaded.
"I'm sorry, Sam, but I know all about your pet angel and how you can contact him. Miss Toni's notes were very thorough. You can pray to him as much as you like, but I can't allow you to give him any information that could lead him here" Thomas explained as he smoothed out the cloth with his thumbs. Sam jerked away, his breathing ragged as he moaned miserably.
He was completely helpless and he loathed it. They were taking everything from him. He jumped when both car doors slammed shut. Pressing his cheek into the floor of the car, he tried to hook the blindfold on something – anything – but it didn't budge. Straining his ears, Sam listened, shifting nervously when the tailgate eased up. An odd clicking noise reached him and he felt the tether between his wrists and ankles slacken, his legs finally able to drop an inch or so. The same noise happened again followed by the sound of the two carabiners being unclipped. He groaned when he felt Thomas grasp his calves and slide him down the length of the car.
Thomas reached in to undo the rope between Sam's wrists and ankles, struggling with the knots that had tightened after the hunter's ceaseless wriggling. Finally getting them loose, he unthreaded the cord and helped Sam stretch out his legs, listening to the drawn-out moan that emanated from the Winchester as his sore knees cracked. Turning him over, Thomas gripped the strap around his thighs and pulled him closer.
"Up you come," Thomas coaxed, clutching Sam's upper arm and helped him sit up. Sam whimpered softly, the small sound pulling at the older man's sympathies. He caressed Sam's arm with a thumb comfortingly. "Last bit of the journey Sam – I promise."
The Man of Letters stood up, edging Sam to the rim of the tailgate, dropping his long legs over the side.
Uneasiness filled Sam as Thomas tugged him up to a standing position. What the hell was he thinking? The hunter squirmed when he nearly overbalanced on his bound legs, the straps still tight around his ankles and thighs. The hand dropped from his arm, leaving him untouched for just a moment. Something hard pushed into his stomach, just above his hips, bending him in half. He fell forward involuntarily with a groan, panicking because he couldn't see. He felt the ground disappear beneath his feet as the hard surface dug into his stomach, nearly winding him, an arm snaking around to clamp over the back of his thighs. Frantic, he fought, bellowing forlornly as he felt Thomas begin to move.
"I know, Sam, I know" Thomas murmured as he strode across the lawn, keeping a firm hold of his wriggling charge. The hunter was no lightweight and the struggling wasn't helping. Thomas was thankful that he'd had the forethought to park in the garden close to the storm cellar. Anna stood next to the open steel door.
"Mind your head, Thomas" she warned, her eyes narrowing when she noted the rebellious hunter causing him bother as he carried him. Ungrateful swine.
Thomas smiled at her as he descended the steps and into the artificial light of the cellar. He knelt next to the bed, dropping his shoulder so that he could ease Sam onto the single cot. The hunter landed with a soft thump onto the mattress.
"There: you're safe, Sam" Thomas assured him, helping lift his legs up onto the bed. The older man brushed the errant locks from Sam's forehead tenderly, sighing when he jerked out from under his touch and bucked desperately against his remaining restraints. As much as it pained him, Thomas knew he should leave Sam to calm down on his own; he needed time to adjust and sleep. "I'm going to come back in a little while Sam – give you a chance to rest. I suggest you do just that. You'll feel much better for it." He patted Sam's arm and stood up, walking back towards the entrance, listening to the horrified moans coming from the hunter. He made to flip the light off but thought better of it – he hadn't yet set up the night vision on the CCTV camera and he needed to be able to keep an eye on Sam from the house. Between the blindfold and the other encumbrances, it wouldn't take long for Sam to settle; it never used to.
Climbing the steps, Thomas shut the steel door with a resounding echo, leaving Sam to wallow in his own despair.
oOo
I think that was one of the most intense chapters I've ever done!
Please review!