The Institute

Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone from Supernatural nor do I profit in any way. I just write for the love of writing about the boys and hurting them on the odd occasion.

Warnings:

Rated for language, violence, and torture. NO Wincest or Slash involved in this or any of my stories.

CHAPTER 12 Use your powers or suffer the consequences.

Sam's breath caught in his throat as he fought to stay standing; blearily he watched the ring of attackers as they circled him. He dragged his left leg with the pain now a dull ache ebbing through his muscles. Blood crusted on the side of his face and down his neck from a long gash on his forehead. A broken blade still embedded in his left shoulder felt like it sliced down further every time he used his arm. Blinking rapidly Sam concentrated on the punch hurtling towards him, ducking it at the last minute he came up with a jaw-breaking uppercut sending his attacker flying across the room.

'Use your powers subject twenty-two.' The order sounded through the speakers surrounding them.

'Get fucked.' Sam gasped angrily the slight distraction giving another attacker an opening. A spinning roundhouse aimed at Sam's ribs missed him by fractions of a millimetre, a hair's breadth. Stumbling Sam shook his head, regretting the movement instantly as the world started to tilt.

He heard an annoyed sounding order but the words were intelligible. His breath coming in short sharp gasps made him feel floaty. A small smile ghosted his dried and cracked lips. 'Hey mom.'

The attackers seeing Sam stumble and collapse immediately backed off and stood around the perimeter of the arena waiting for further instructions.

Subject nineteen risked a quick glance down at the fallen hunter, she couldn't believe the injuries he sustained let alone the fact that he kept fighting. Most men would have given in to the pain by now.

'Subject nineteen, eyes front and centre.' The voice on the sound system barked and she jumped before complying her attention fixed on the wall in front of her. 'Summers take subject twenty-two back to its holding cell.'

Summers eased his arms under Sam trying to avoid the blade but each movement brought more winces and whimpers from his young charge.

The last week blurred by for the guardian, unable to have contact with subject twenty-two he had to wait out his punishment instead. Guarding those whose minds snap during the treatments, an often dangerous task and one that served as punishment for anyone who dared to go up against the Institute.

At least he was able to look after Grace there; she lay in a bed in a catatonic state after they virtually ripped her from Sam's arms. Their connection severed by such force and violence was too much for the young healer and her mind completely shut down.

Normally the doctor would have one like that put down so that they could autopsy and study the corpse but Sloane wanted to sustain her life, in a bid to retrain her as a compliant healer.

Sam suffered at the hands of the guards after the escape attempt, no life-threatening injuries was the only order they received. Otherwise, they could do what they liked to him until Sloane required him. they took great delight in using him for target practice until the blade snapped in his shoulder, after that Sloane gave Sam a short time to rest before he ordered the recommencement of Sam's training and indoctrination into the inner-workings of the Institute.

Summers gently laid Sam down on the bed before gathering the equipment he needed to patch his young charge up.

'Let me die.' Sam whispered clutching at Summer's wrist, 'just let me go.'

'I – I can't Sam, I promised Dean that I would do whatever I can to help you,' he replied tenderly stroking Sam's cheek, 'I have to get you well enough to get you out of here and back with your brother.'

'Dean's dead.' Sam's voice broke when he finally said it aloud.

'No, no he's not that's just what they want you to think.' Summers leant forward as though he was checking on Sam's cut forehead, he whispered just loud enough for the youngest Winchester to hear. 'they only want you to believe that Sam, Dean's alive I promise you.'

'Alive?' Sam's face wore a mask of sheer confusion, 'they forced me to deal and then they let him...'

'No Sam, it was a trick – a mind trick to keep you here.'

Sam cried out as summer's tried to irrigate his sliced open forehead. 'Fuck Sam, hold still.'

'Hurts.' Sam whimpered suddenly sounding and looking like a frightened child, with too-wide eyes staring up at him.

'I know but not for much longer I promise.' Summers said keeping his voice deliberately low pitched and even, 'come on Sam stay with me dude.'

'Summers ... you ... gotta ... get ... the blade ... out.' Sam grunted.

'I'm, I'm not sure I can kiddo, it's in pretty deep if I pull it out you could bleed to death.'

'Where, where's Grace did she get out with...' Sam blinked the sweat and blood out of his eyes and looked up at Summers, taking in the tight lines around his mouth and the shadows beneath his eyes. 'What is it?'

'She, she had a breakdown Sam, they have her in the psych wing. She's catatonic.'

'No, no, no.' Sam shook his head and turned away from summer's touch, 'leave me to die summers, I can't keep doin this.'

'Sam please, listen to me, don't' give up just yet, give me and Dean a way to help you and the others out of here.'

'Dean?' at the mention of his older brother Sam returned his focus back on his carer, 'okay.' He whispered barely audible.

Summers finished dressing the wounds and went to fetch some fresh water for Sam; while he was gone, Sloane strode in and went directly to the bed, staring dispassionately down at the young man lying in it.

'You are feeling better.' He made it sound more like a statement than a question.

Sam stared mutely up at his main tormentor, trying to work out exactly why he is doing this. Sloane reached down and gripped the end of the blade and without another word or indication on what he was about to do, wrenched the blade from Sam's shoulder.

Sam's back arched as he screamed in agony, muscle, and flesh ripping as the embedded knife pulled and cut on the forced exit route. A scream of primal fury and absolute anguish tore from Sam's throat, his neck corded and bunched with the strain placed in his body. Blood sprayed in a long stream from the wound, splattering everything in the way, including Sloane.

Summers came running in, Sam's screams echoed through the entire building. Skidding to a halt, he saw his young charge moaning incoherently lying flat on his back on the bed. His shoulder and upper body covered in fresh warm blood where the blade had been, now, oozing with blood and black fluids.

Sloane stood staring down at the younger man with a strange look on his face, the bloody knife still clutched in his fingers.

'What have you done?' Summers cried out pushing his employer out of the way he dropped to his knees next to the bed and frantically tried to put pressure on the bloody incision.

'How dare you speak to me like that?' Sloane sneered but he kept his gaze fastened on Sam, the blood and gore fascinating him. 'It is human.' He kept repeating in hushed tones. 'It really is human.'

'What did you expect him to be?' Summers turned to face Sloane, but the older man pulled his gaze from Sam and straightened his shoulders, with a sneer fixed on his face he dropped the bloodied broken blade on the floor and turned to leave. 'I will have Doctor Schlatter attend its wounds, I will allow it to recuperate for the next few days and then I will expect it to recommence the indoctrination I will control it.'

Summers stared incredulously at the man as he strode out of the cell, leaving Summers and Sam alone finally. 'Fuck Sam I am so sorry I shouldn't have left you.' Summers whispered as he kept the pressure on the wound, 'hang in there kid.'

'Dean where are we?' Sam asked, 'tired so tired.'

'Sam?'

'Don't wanna do this anymore, tired of hunting Dean.' Sam muttered no longer looking at Summers but instead he stared and talked to an invisible person. 'Why can't Dad leave us alone?'

'Sam look at me.' Summers tried to force the younger man to look up at him but Sam was lost in another time and place. 'Don't want to fight with Dad anymore; I want to go to school.'

'Sam please look at me, you can't keep talking like that someone's gonna hear you.'

'I'm going to Stanford Dad you can't stop me,' Sam yelled out, 'I'm going Dad.'

Summers moved to grab Sam's wrists but when the young man started to flail about he missed, one hand clamping down on the injured left shoulder. Sam screamed and wept begging for no more, he promised to behave just don't hurt him anymore.

'What is going on here?' Schlatter demanded as he hurried into the cell followed by two orderlies dragging a gurney between them.

'I-I'm not sure doctor, Sam ... subject twenty-two started to hallucinate, and started talking to someone I'm not sure who, and then I presume its father. When I tried to restrain it, it started begging and acting almost childlike.' Summers reported snapping back into his more comfortable role, 'it has lost a great deal of blood, breathes are shallow and rapid, pulse is sluggish and judging by the heat radiating from it, it has a high temperature.'

'Get him on the gurney,' Schlatter ordered the orderlies before turning back to Summers, 'who removed the broken blade?'

'Mister Sloane did, Doctor ... he just yanked it out.'

'Damn him; okay get it down to medicals now.' Schlatter snapped, 'Summers you stay with them, I do not want it to be left alone with anyone else, is that understood.'

'Yes Doctor.' Summers sighed inwardly, relieved at the doctor letting him to stay with Sam.

The doctor assembled his surgical team in minutes, and was operating on Sam before Summers could register what was happening. Watching from behind the viewing panel, he saw the doctor in a different light. The cruel, torturer and scientist gone replaced with a professional, talented surgeon intent on saving his patient's life.

TBC