Apologies for the length between updates – it's been one of those weeks!
oOo
"When you sleep at night: dream of only me."
- Not Alright, Smile Empty Soul
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His chest burned, struggling to draw in each breath, fighting the cramping in his diaphragm caused by his position. Metal shackles dug into the soft flesh of his hands, biting painfully whenever he shifted which was often. He was raised onto the tips of his toes, trying to stretch himself up and relieve the pressure around his wrists but James had seen what he was doing and simply shortened the chain that his wrists were manacled to. The Man of Letters prowled around him, lurking behind Sam's back, making his bare skin prickle.
Toni stood in front of him, her arms clasped behind her back as she appraised Sam, her eyes wandering up and down his frame almost clinically. When she spoke, her voice was calm, patronising.
"I won't apologise for locking you up. You're a danger to others – and yourself – but if you answer my question, you'll walk right out that door. I promise. I'll keep you safe" She smiled tightly, her eyes locking onto his. Sam glared down at her, clenching his jaw.
"Pass. You can ask me any kind of question you want but the answer's gonna be the exact same: screw you" he snarled.
"You don't even know what I'm going to ask you, Sam," Toni chided bringing herself closer to the Winchester.
"Doesn't matter. I've been tortured by the devil himself; so you – you're just an accent in a pant suit. What can you do to me?" Sam smirked, his look bright and defiant despite the cold that was settling in his stomach at the cold, confident grin spreading across the Woman of Letter's features. He cried out as a sharp pain snaked across his shoulders, arching his back forward. He glanced over his shoulder at James, a thin wooden switch, much thinner than a whip and twice as painful, clasped in his balled fist and a malicious grin on his face.
"Speaking of Lucifer," Toni drew his attention forward again, "we need to chat about him."
Sam just looked at her, twisting his wrists uncomfortably as the knot tightened in his stomach.
"You're important to me – to him. You've denied him for so long. He's now free of Castiel but can't sustain a vessel. He's been forced to hop from person to person, burning them out as he goes. So much death, all because you won't let him in" Toni murmured, running her hand up Sam's torso. He flinched at the contact, eyes flashing when she grabbed his chin and forced his head down. "It needs to end."
"If I knew how to kill him, don't you think I'd have done it by now?" Sam growled, trying to wrench his face from her hold. He felt James coming up behind him.
"Kill him? You don't kill Lucifer, Sam. The apocalypse may not have happened, but that doesn't mean we can't still help Lucifer to create paradise. I'm going to look after you – help you. Together, we can achieve that dream," Toni replied as Sam stared at her, horrified. "You're going to say yes to him, Sam."
"You're crazy!" Sam laughed, the sound completely humourless. He cried out as James flogged him again, agony ripping through his skin.
"You'll say yes, Sam; it's what I've promised him. It's my job: I'll keep you safe."
"Why do you keep saying that?" Sam gasped, wrenching away from James' lashes and straight into Toni's waiting palm which caressed his bare stomach lightly.
"It's my job, Sam. It's what I'm going to do. I'll keep you safe. You'll be alright as long as I'm here."
oOo
Thomas watched carefully as Sam twitched and grunted softly in his sleep. The Man of Letters sat beside his bed, content to just observe. It had been a rough few days for the both of them and these quiet moments were ones to be cherished. He hoped Sam was dreaming of pleasant things. Sam lay with his arms now at his sides, still protected by the leather cuffs, his ankles now wrapped in similar bands; he had behaved enough for the metal shackles to be removed. Thomas couldn't bring himself to removed his blindfold or gag; he hadn't realised Sam would still be asleep when he came down. Instead, he'd employed his latest technique, fitting a pair of small headphones to his sleeping protégé. Sam hadn't stirred, not even when Thomas had started playing the recording. Whenever Sam's dream became too intense, Thomas laid a comforting hand on him – on his leg, his arm or his torso, reassuring him that he was there. Sam would instantly quieten again, giving Thomas a wave of satisfaction before he removed his hand.
They were starting to get somewhere.
oOo
"It's my job, Sam. It's what I'm going to do. I'll keep you safe. You'll be alright as long as I'm here."
Thomas' voice finally registered in Sam's ears – his words manipulated by his nightmare into Toni's voice. Consciousness leapt forth, bridged by the nauseatingly soothing voice. Sam moaned around the knotted gag in his mouth. He jerked his head, confused. If Thomas was talking to him, he should be able to see, to talk. It's what happened every other time he came down.
"It's my job, Sam. It's what I'm going to do. I'll keep you safe. You'll be alright as long as I'm here."
Thomas' words were repeated again and Sam became aware of the strange tightness plugging his ears.
Headphones.
He bit down on the cloth in his mouth, whimpering as he tried to pull on his arms, even though he knew they'd be secured. He couldn't lie there, listening to Thomas' incessant monologues, with no idea how long it would be before the real Thomas came and released him.
"It's my job, Sam. It's what I'm going to do. I'll keep you safe. You'll be alright as long as I'm here."
Sam shook his head, trying to dislodge the earbuds but couldn't. He squirmed on the mattress, flinching when he felt a warm hand on his leg, a thumb rubbing his lower thigh in what the Man of Letters obviously presumed was a comforting manner. The bastard was there, sat with him. Watching. Sam groaned and thrashed, hating the touch, hating that Thomas was right there and wasn't releasing him, instead settling for stroking Sam's leg. He hated the helplessness swirling inside him, hated that he was made to feel so weak.
Hated that he couldn't change a damned thing – that Thomas chose everything that happened to him.
"It's my job, Sam. It's what I'm going to do. I'll keep you safe. You'll be alright as long as I'm here."
oOo
Anna snapped the clean sheets as she folded them, pulling them taut to remove even the smallest crease. The stark white material was crisp, spotless as she folded it again, smoothing it out on the top of the laundry pile. She had finally managed to settle herself into a bit more of a routine. Anna was not one to pander to feelings of listlessness but she had certainly felt a strong sense of apathy since Lady Bevell's passing. She had served in the Bevell household since before Lady Toni could walk and there were days when her grief slipped through the mask she had erected so carefully, leaving her breathless.
She never wept though.
Weeping was for those of lesser upbringings; Anna would not offend Lady Bevell's memory by stooping to such base forms of emotional outbursts.
The next sheet snapped to attention.
It was part of what she detested about Sam Winchester. The man had no decorum at all. He whined and moaned, cursed and wailed, displaying a less than gentlemanly repertoire of emotions. She tolerated him for Thomas' sake, but was glad that she had little to do with the man. Thomas was much…softer than she was. Oh, Anna was patient, but she had no tolerance for silliness and disrespect and most of Sam Winchester's behaviours fell into one of those categories.
He would rue the day he was ever as rude to her as he was to Thomas.
Grabbing the final sheet, she grasped it tightly and pulled it taut, stretching out the imperfections she could see in the soft surface.
oOo
The cloths fell away and the lip of a water bottle was offered to Sam. He drank greedily, downing the cooling liquid like he'd survived a drought. He said nothing when Thomas took it away, still refusing to perform the niceties that the Englishman expected of him. It was all he could do not to scream at Thomas for the damned headphone trick. Hours seemed to have passed with Thomas' voice repeating the same phrases over and over. It had nearly been enough to drive him mad. Just when he'd thought he couldn't take much more, it had finally stopped.
"How are you feeling today, Sam?" Thomas asked, his voice setting Sam's teeth on edge. He bit down his loathing, pulling up the mask he needed to wear. He couldn't let Thomas see how much his methods were getting to him.
"Sore" Sam admitted, his eyes downcast as he shifted.
"Where?" Thomas asked, concern knitting his brow.
"My back mostly," Sam replied. He wasn't sure but he'd assumed he'd been in the cellar for over three days and he had yet to be allowed off the bed. Other than having his arms strapped at his sides, Thomas hadn't let him change positions at all. "I need to walk around. Thomas, please, it's been days." Sam didn't care that he was pleading; he needed some kind of freedom. Thomas sighed.
"Sam…"
"I won't try to run; I won't do anything. I just need to move" Sam implored, his eyes fixed on the older man. Thomas met his gaze directly; Sam could almost see his mind calculating the risks, the supposed 'reward' and whether Sam had earned it.
"Alright, Sam. You have…mostly cooperated in the last few days. However, I want to make this clear; this is an act of good faith on my part and it's a privilege that I can rescind at any time of my choosing. The restraints will stay on and you will do as I tell you without question. If you do one single thing that doesn't comply, you'll be straight back on the bed until I see fit to let you off. Is that clear?" Thomas' conditions were relayed with a dispassionate but firm tone. It was that tone in particular that truly chilled Sam.
"Yes." Sam couldn't do anything other than agree – not if he wanted this. Thomas nodded and rose, moving over to the shelf on the opposite wall. Sam watched the older man as he selected several items and started preparing them. Down near the foot of the bed, a ring was drilled into the wall around the same height as the top of the bed. Thomas threaded a silver chain through it, looping it over and padlocking it in place with a large, heavy duty lock. The Englishman grasped the end and walked out with it.
"You cannot reach the door from here nor the shelf," Thomas stated, walking around with the chain pulled taut, demonstrating its limitations. Sam watched him carefully, swallowing his ire. Reaching down, Thomas grabbed Sam's left foot, linking the chain through a ring that was attached to the side of the leather cuff around his ankle. Another padlock snapped shut, securing Sam's ankle to the wall. Picking up a thinner, shorter chain, Thomas secured it to the other rings on the ankle cuffs, creating a short hobble between the hunter's legs. He would be able to walk but not run Sam realised with dismay.
Thomas picked up a wide leather belt, almost four inches wide with a lot more holes stretching along its spine than a normal belt. Metal rings hung from either side. He stood at Sam's side, holding it taut.
"Lift up your hips."
"Is that really necessary? I said I wouldn't try anything" Sam asked, barely keeping the grumble from his tone. Thomas frowned.
"Do you honestly think you've earned enough trust for that, Sam?" Thomas replied condescendingly. He didn't move. Sam clenched his jaw, staring stubbornly up at the ceiling as he did as Thomas instructed. He felt Thomas slide the leather underneath him and pulled it up on the other side as he lowered himself back down. Thomas buckled it up over his white shirt, making sure that it was firmly in place but not excessively tight. Yet more padlocks were added, linking the rings on Sam's wrist cuffs to the ones on the belt. The term 'excessive' didn't quite fit Thomas but, as much as Sam wanted to tell him that, he said nothing, knowing that such sarcasm would jeopardise his freedom.
Finally, Thomas unlocked his restraints from the bedframe and helped Sam up to a sitting position. Sam groaned as the pressure eased off his back, releasing some audible cracks when he rolled his shoulders and neck. He swung his feet over the edge and stood up, beyond relieved at the chance to finally move. Thomas moved away, putting the extra locks back up on the shelf, out of Sam's reach as Sam slowly shuffled back and forth in front of the bed, his knees cracking while the chain grated across the floor.
"Thank you" Sam murmured, unable to keep the appreciation from his tone. Thomas smiled at him warmly.
"You're welcome, Sam. Contrary to your popular belief, I'm not actually a monster. I keep telling you I have your best interests at heart." Thomas replied. He checked his watch. "I'm going to leave you to it for a while; I'll be back later."
Without waiting for Sam's reply, the Englishman left, leaving Sam with more freedom (if he could really call it that) than he'd had since being taken; movement, no blindfold and no gag. Sam's relief was almost palpable. He paced slowly, enjoying the feel of stretching his legs even if he couldn't go far. Looking around, he walked to the edge of the chain's limits, testing how far he could go. Thomas hadn't been exaggerating: he was nowhere near the door or the shelf and cupboard – the only places that could potentially house something useful. Even if he could stretch his legs (as far as the hobble allowed which wasn't far at all), an experimental tug on the cuffs securing his wrists to his waist proved that he was never going to be able to grab anything.
Sighing deeply, Sam continued his pacing, feeling his heart sink slowly.
oOo
The afternoon was drawing on; the sun heating the farmhouse to a warm, comfortable temperature. Thomas was sat at his desk, the laptop on so that quick glances every now and then let him check on Sam. He was impressed; so far Sam had behaved properly, using his privileges in the correct manner. He hadn't tried anything, simply wandered the cellar and studied his surroundings. A pang of guilt did pierce through Thomas; he was probably bored. Sam was an intelligent man who needed mental stimulation to keep him occupied. More importantly, without anything to focus on, he was more likely to be forming undesirable plans. It was another thing Thomas needed to work on.
He thumbed through John Winchester's journal, continuing his studies of the Winchester brothers' past. There was rudimentary demonology; nothing at all like the knowledge the Men of Letters had acquired over the centuries. Everything in the journal seemed to be based almost purely on field experience and a potluck approach to actual research. That would have to change. If Sam was to become even half the man Thomas expected him to be, it would seem that Sam still had a lot of learning to do.
Thomas smiled; two birds: one stone.
The silence dominating the room was broken when the phone inside Thomas' suit jacket went off, its tone shrill and demanding. Thomas pulled it out, swiping the green phone symbol.
"Hello?"
"Oh hi, Mr Maguire? It's Ben from Emporia Ironmongers. The piece you commissioned is finished" a thin, reedy voice crackled down the line.
"Oh excellent! I'll come and collect it" Thomas replied, grinning as he shut the journal.
"Are you sure? I can have it couriered to you if you'd prefer" Ben offered.
"No, no, don't trouble yourself. I could do with a drive and have a few other things to collect as it is" Thomas said, switching the phone to his other ear. "I'll be there before you close." He hung up and tapped his phone thoughtfully against his chin. He was loathed to go and leave Sam, but he couldn't risk anything being traced back to the farmhouse.
"Who was on the phone, Thomas?" Anna asked as she breezed through the room on her way to the kitchen. Thomas followed her.
"My piece is ready to collect. I've said I'd go and collect it but…"
"You're worried about leaving Sam" Anna finished for him. Thomas smiled at her sheepishly. Anna put her empty cup on the side next to the sink. "I would offer to go for you, but I think you should do it. A little separation is healthy. Situations will always arise where you'll need to go and he'll need to stay. It's inevitable and perfectly normal. Why don't I go and sit with him? It's about time Sam and I got to know each other."
"Would you do that? That would be wonderful, Anna and I'm sure Sam would appreciate your visit," Thomas replied gratefully. Anna nodded. "Anna, you are such a blessing. I don't know what I'd do without you.
"I'll go and prepare Sam. I've been thinking about helping him improve his studies into the supernatural; perhaps you could get him started while I'm gone?"
Anna smiled tightly. "I'll see what I can do."
oOo
Sam and Thomas both looked up as the door to the cellar opened again. Thomas dropped his gaze back down, finishing his adjustments to Sam's cuffs. The Winchester was sat in a high-backed wooden chair next to the bed, opposite another, vacant chair. Sam had done as he was told with minimal fuss, earning him a sickening amount of patronising praise from the Man of Letters. Curiosity had gotten the better of Sam; it seemed strange that Thomas was yet again securing him to the furniture, although he was glad it wasn't the damned bed again. The leather cuffs were proving to be alarmingly versatile; Thomas had unlocked them from the waist belt and removed the hobbling chain from between his ankles, securing his wrists to the back of the tall posts on either side of the backrest of the chair so that his arms were parallel with the wood. He could neither move his arms to the sides or up or down. His legs were similarly fastened.
Anna stepped down into the cellar, a cup and saucer perfectly balanced in one hand and a small satchel in the other. It was the first time Sam had seen her since his arrival.
"I hear you've been a bit of a nuisance already."
She had been cold condescending then and the sight of her now didn't evoke any feelings of comfort. She met his gaze head on, her dyed auburn hair perfectly coifed. She wore a tailored navy suit, her skirt ending rigidly at her knees and her crisp white blouse was a stark contrast to the deep blue of her jacket. Simple gold rings adorned the ring fingers of both her hands; she must have been married at some point. She was significantly older than Thomas; Sam pegged her in her early sixties – at least. Yet it was her eyes that made Sam readjust his position, suddenly nervous and unsure why. Anna was not like Thomas; she was traditional, reserved. Somehow, Sam didn't think he could even attempt to make an ally of her. He glanced up at Thomas as the Man of Letters moved around him, his hand patting Sam's shoulder.
"I thought it was about time that you and Anna got better acquainted," Thomas explained, smiling down at Sam. "Be a good lad for Anna, Sam." He gave Sam's shoulder a final squeeze and headed towards the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Sam blurted out, his eyes flicking between the two. He didn't want to be alone with her; he couldn't explain why but something in his gut told him this wasn't right.
"Not to worry Sam; I won't be far. Anna has kindly offered to help you study. There is a lot you still need to learn about our ways," Thomas replied as he looked back at Sam. "Now, I expect you to be on your best behaviour for Anna; she is a lady after all."
Sam watched him leave and Anna walk forward, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. The door slammed shut, blocking out the sunlight. Anna put her satchel down on the bed and placed her cup and saucer down on the small table.
"I hope you appreciate the effort Thomas has been going to for you, Samuel" she remarked as she pulled out a small leather-bound book from her bag.
"It's Sam," the hunter growled, his glare dissipating under the withering look she shot at him, her body going completely still. The silence hung heavy and oppressive between the two of them for a moment until Sam looked away and down.
"Thomas is a caring soul, Samuel, and he has, for some reason, decided that you are redeemable. I have yet to be convinced; perhaps you can prove me wrong this afternoon," she continued, her tone clipped and hard. Sam said nothing. Anna smiled tightly. "Good, that's much better. A gentleman always keeps a civil tone and only says what needs to be heard."
Inwardly, Sam groaned. The thought of having to spend any amount of time with another supercilious bitch who thought it was her role to change him was beyond infuriating. Why couldn't people just let him be himself? His whole life was full of others trying to manipulate and control him: his dad, Azazel, Ruby, Lucifer, Gadreel…the list was almost endless. And he was getting sick of it. He felt the ire prickle like fire across his skin. If Anna thought she was going to get the better of him, she had another thing coming.
"Now, I thought we would begin with a bit of history; are you familiar with James I's tome, Daemonology?" she asked as she sat herself down, knees together, book on her lap as she sipped her tea.
"No."
"Excellent. We'll start there then."
oOo
US-75N, outskirts of New Strawn, Kansas
Thomas tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, enjoying the way the gentle tones of Chopin's Spring Waltz made his heart swell. He was the happiest he'd felt in weeks – the happiest since before Lady Toni's passing. Everything was going the way he wanted it to. Sam was slowly but surely coming around to his way of thinking, in fact, it wouldn't be long before he would start the next phase of Sam's rehabilitation. That part was going to be difficult. On face value, it would look like Sam would regress back to his defiant stage again, but Thomas would know better. He would just need to make his arguments ironclad.
He watched the road stretch out before him, few other vehicles blocking his path. That was the pleasant thing about driving in America; the endless stationary traffic jams of England were non-existent here. There were stretches where he would drive and not see another car for miles. It would be the one thing he would miss about this country before they repatriated back to England. He had already vowed that they would leave the bustle of London behind; the West Country was always a wondrous place; Thomas had always fancied living in Devon or on the wilds of Dartmoor. Anna wouldn't object and Sam would appreciate its natural beauty.
Everything was going to be perfect.
oOo
Okay, so this chapter and the next one were meant to be one but it's got monstrously long and I've had to split it. On the plus side, I'm now ahead of myself and can get the next update out quicker.
Please review!