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 14 Welcome to Level Three, Subject twenty-two.

Dean paced the small area until he made a dent in the dirt, a well-worn circle in the dust. Summers messaged and told him to meet here an hour ago, now the older man was not only late he was extremely late. Two hours were fast becoming three before Dean saw Summers pulling up next to the impala.

'Where the freaking hell have you been?' Dean demanded his anger getting the better of him.

'Nice to see you too Kid.' Summers shot back as he eased himself out of the car wincing slightly.

'What's wrong? You hurt?' Dean's anger dissolved immediately when he saw the obvious pain and distress on the older man's face.

'It's okay, I'll be fine,' Summers grunted, 'look Dean, we haven't got much time if we're going to get Sam out of that place.'

'What's going on Summers? And no bullshit.'

'Okay but I need to sit down.' Summers limped heavily favouring his left side as he made his way to the decrepit picnic table and benches. Dean sat opposite Summers and waited, his knee bouncing impatiently. 'They hurt Sam bad, Dean I'm not going to lie to you; they used him like a living breathing target trying to get him to use his abilities to deflect the onslaught.'

'What with?'

'Knives a lot of the time, but basically anything that they could use, they often used the other subjects pitting them against Sam.'

'Motherfu...'

'Dean please ... one was particularly bad, they broke a knife in Sam's upper chest, I – I thought he was dying, anyway I got him back to his cell and went to get stuff to fix him, while I was gone Sloane made an appearance, he pulled the knife blade out.'

'Sam started to bleed out?' Dean's face became devoid of any colour.

'Yeah, by the time I got there ... anyway Doctor Schlatter found out and hit the roof, he operated on Sam ... Dean that man he is actually a great surgeon, he's been corrupted but when it counted he saved Sam's life. He ordered no one to go near Sam including Sloane and the others, I – I went to find Grace.'

'What happened to her?'

'After the escape attempt she had a break down, they put her in the psych ward, and did the reprogramming thing on her so all she knew was what they told her. I got her to come and help heal Sam; she's starting to remember him.'

'But that's good isn't it?'

'Dean there's more...'

'How much more could there be? Summers what's happened to my baby brother?'

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Twelve hours earlier at the Institute:

Sam laid staring blankly up at the ceiling, the pain resonating through him eased with each passing second, but all he could see was the look on Grace's face as she collapsed, his injuries too much for her to handle.

Another death because of him, Summers stared down at his young charge and saw the light dim in his eyes, he had the guards remove Grace's body before Sam could see her in death. Guilt filled him, but also relief if he had to sacrifice a young healer for this young man then so be it. Sam's destiny is more important than anyone's life.

'Sam this wasn't your fault, blame Sloane and his cronies they are the ones that did this to both of you.'

'If she didn't try to heal me she would still be alive...'

'Alive but living? Sam when I found her ... Grace was gone, she was just subject twenty-one a mindless robot with only one function, to repair what they damage. She's free now Sam, keep hold of that thought they can't hurt her anymore.'

Loud voices outside the cell door interrupted any further conversation between the two, Summers moved to stand protectively in front of Sam's bed as the door slammed open and Sloane barged in followed by two heavily armed guards.

'Take Summers into custody.' Sloane ordered, 'I will deal with him in due time.'

'What the hell is going on? Sloane you have no right...'

'Right? I will tell you what rights you have, none. No one approved the healer for this, this thing. No one approved the surgery or anything done for it. It is a thing to use and discard nothing more.'

'It has a name, Sam Winchester he is a person not an it.'

'It is a sub-human! An abomination, one to be used to serve the good of the human race not to thwart it and control.'

'Sam is not like that.'

'No? Then why does it show such violence so naturally? Why does it try to kill all those around it? Because it is a danger to everyone, it needs to be controlled and have its powers harnessed.'

'That it insanity.' Summers hissed struggling against the iron-like grip of Sloane's guards. 'Sam run ... get out of here Kid.'

'Move and your friend dies.' Sloane said casually bending down he twisted his fingers in Sam's hair and yanked his head back viciously staring with contempt into Sam's clear green eyes. 'You will learn your place here subject twenty-two, you are nothing and a nobody, you are to train and to obey, and that is all.'

'Sam please don't listen to him ... argh!' Summers doubled over and tried to catch his breath after a steel-like fist pummelled his stomach.

'Stop!' Sam cried out at the sight of his only friend being beaten.

'What do you have to say subject twenty-two?'

'I will learn my place, I am nothing, a nobody, and I will train and obey.' Sam replied tonelessly, his face blank and eyes empty.

'No Sam!' Summers gasped still trying to catch his breath.

'Very good subject twenty-two, now just as a reminder you can watch your former carer die.' Sloane gloated, keeping his hand twisted cruelly in Sam's hair he forced his captive to watch as a knife became wedged in Summers' left side. A strangled cry filled the room as Summers collapsed lifelessly at the feet of his employer, 'get rid of him.'

Sloane dragged Sam up by the hair until the younger man was seated, 'get up subject twenty-two.' He hissed. Hesitantly Sam stood his legs wobbled unsteadily under him but he fought it with pure stubbornness, turning his head slightly his level gaze met Sloane's, the older man breaking his gaze away first, 'take him to level three.'

'Sir?' One guard gasped in shock unsure if he heard correctly.

'Level three now.'

'Yessir.' The guard fastened modified shackles to Sam's ankles and wrists, and then holding tightly to one arm led his prisoner away.

Sam glanced down at Summers for a last time and could have sworn he saw the older man wink up at him, but when he looked, again there was nothing; Summers' eyes were closed, never to open again.

'You must have really pissed the boss off to be sent to level three.' The guard said to Sam as they stood in the silent elevator.

Sam turned and looked down with curiosity etched across his face but he remained carefully silent.

'Only the untrainable get sent there,' the guard answered Sam's unasked question, 'very few make it back.'

Sam took a shuddering breath, said a mental goodbye to Dean, Summers and Grace before he accepted the inevitable. This is where he belongs, a freak amongst other uncontrollable freaks.

The guard squeezed Sam's arm in sympathy as he handed him over at the gates to level three, turned on his heels and strode away without another look at the sad eyes watching him.

Sam turned his attention to his newest guard, carer or whatever he was, a big man standing eye to eye with Sam but almost double in bulk, although, there was not a lot of muscle tone. He had greying black hair, and dark blue eyes the most outstanding feature he had without taking into account his size was the scar that ran across his forehead from temple to temple.

'So subject twenty-two you seem to have the bosses in a feeding frenzy, you must be something special.' He mocked the silent, tall young man standing in front of him, 'I am Fox, you will address me as Fox or Sir, and I am your sentinel for your stay in level three. You will do everything I tell you to do and not speak unless directed to, is that understood.'

Sam stared impassively at the man before nodding his head, preferring to remain silent.

'Ah so we have the strong and silent type huh?' Fox taunted him, 'oh well that means no headaches for me at least.' Removing the shackles from Sam's arms and legs, he led his young charge down a short corridor to an area filled with curtained cubicles, pushing Sam inside the first one he ordered him to strip off everything.

When Sam stood silently staring at him, showing no indication of complying with the order, Fox snarled snapped out a vicious punch winding Sam. 'Strip.'

Again, Sam stared at the man and refused to speak, make any sound at all for that matter, and remained fully clothed. The next blow sent Sam flying backwards smashing into the wall behind him. winded Sam double over and rested his hands on his knees as he waited for the dizziness to subside and for the dots to stop dancing in front of his eyes. 'Get undressed now!' Fox hissed at Sam as the young man slowly straightened and continued to stare at his new tormentor.

With a growl of anger and frustration, Fox moved deceptively fast for a man of his size, a large knife appeared in his hand and within a couple of minutes, he cut away, Sam's scant clothing. Fresh bruises and cuts appeared on Sam's pale skin from where Fox beat him for disobedience and where the knife nicked him during the removal of his clothes. 'Ya learn the hard way or the easy way makes no difference to me.' Fox said as dragged Sam from the cubicle towards the end of the room, slipping his left wrist in a cuff attached to the wall he left Sam standing there alone, naked and silent.

The blast of chilled water made Sam gasp for air, shivering he tried to cover the more vulnerable parts of his body but to no avail. The invading water managed to hit all of them and his new and semi-healed injuries.

When the water stopped, Sam stood shivering and hyperventilating, his body quickly starting to go into shock. Fox returned followed by another man, smaller in build but just as tall with steel grey hair and fathomless brown eyes, he had a hard face and looked a lot older than his age. 'I am Doctor Lavone subject twenty-two I have been given your case because you are deemed to difficult for basic training. Fox here tells me that you are already showing defiance with simple commands such as stripping and that you are also refusing to speak.' The Doctor paced in front of Sam carefully avoiding the wet patches on the floor, 'this will change subject twenty-two, the more you resist the harder it will be for you.'

Sam stared at the doctor with a blank almost bored look, before he let his gaze move to Fox and then fix on a spot at the rear of the room. 'There are pants for you to wear hanging on the wall put them on now.' Lavone ordered and watched Sam carefully as he moved stiffly and cautiously mindful of his cuffed wrist and the wet floor.

Once dressed in the shapeless, elastic-waisted, cotton pants Sam felt a little better although a pair of boxers would have been good too.

'Take him through to the next phase of induction.' Lavone said to Fox before returning his attention to Sam, 'I will see you once you have finished your induction, welcome to level three subject twenty-two.'

Sam eyed the man suspiciously, he had a sinking feeling that this induction would make the other stuff look like child's play.

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Summers woke up with an aching head and a scorching pain in his left side; blearily he stared around at his new surroundings. The idiots just dumped him in the woods behind the institute, shaking his head and immediately regretting it Summers slowly sat up and nursed his side until the flames of pain eased to burning embers.

Holding his breath in hope, he searched his pockets, his fingers brushing the cool plastic and metal of his cell phone, heaving a deep sigh he pulled it out and prayed for a good reception in the area because he sure did not feel like walking very far.

Dean's number still sat in his phone's memory, thankfully when they first met Summers insisted on getting at least Dean's cell number in case of an emergency where Sam was concerned and now, now, the emergency was happening.

Quickly texting Dean a message to meet at the small picnic area just off the main highway, Summers slid the phone back into his pocket and tried to stand. After three attempts, he managed to get to his feet, with his hand already slick with blood holding the knife wound as tight as he could stand it he staggered back to the car park. His fingers grazed the car door when his knees buckled and he slumped to the ground hidden by his car, the pain taking control completely.

An hour later a bloodied hand scrambled at the handle finally managing to get the door open and the semi-conscious man slid behind the wheel, first part done, next was to drive without passing out. Sam's life dependant on his keeping his act together.

Using a discarded sports towel, Summers managed to pad up his wound, the pressure easing the blood flow a little. He gulped at his sports drink, thankful that he kept one in the car all the time, with his strange working hours he often needed a bit more of a 'pick-me-up' than just water and unfortunately that wasn't alcohol.

Feeling a little bit better and coherent he put the car and in gear and eased out of the car park, trying to be as invisible as possible.

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Dean sat back and ran his hands over his face, 'so Sammy has been moved to another part of the institute?'

'Yeah, level three, I have never had the authority to go up there but I have heard talk from the sentinels who do work that floor.'

'Sentinels?'

'Yeah they are the ones who guard the subjects and also act as their primary so-called carers. Though their idea of caring for a subject is massively different to mine or yours.'

'Damn it Summers, how did this all get so fucked up?' Dean lifted his head when Summers didn't answer him and saw the man start to topple sideways. Cursing under his breath Dean jumped up and managed to catch Summers before he fell off the bench.

Propping him up on the table Dean ran back to the impala and grabbed the first aid kit and a rug from the back seat. Within minutes, he had Summers resting on the folded rug as he stitched the stab wound. Thankfully, it was not as deep as he first thought and even though there was a lot of blood, the blade missed his major organs and embedded itself in the muscle.

After cleaning the wound and dressing it, Dean sat back and swallowed down on the rising sobs and nausea fighting for dominance in his throat. He was not going to lose it now; Sammy needed him more than ever.

Grace was dead, Dean wanted to feel more for her but he couldn't, he never really trusted the young healer and always thought that she knew more of what was going on than anyone else.

'Get a grip Winchester; we have to get Sammy out of there.' He berated himself, 'a plan need a plan.' He knew that neither he nor Summers would get back in there without being recognised and probably killed on sight, but the only way to get Sam out was for them to get in, and to get in now.

Pulling his cell phone out, Dean hit the speed dial button and waited impatiently for it to be answered.

'This had better be good.' A gruff voice bounced through the connection.

'It's ... it's Dean ... I need help.'

'What is it Dean? Where's Sammy?'

'I'm sending you the co-ordinates and address as soon as we hang up, Sam's been taken by these psycho scientists who want to use him in some sort of research and mind control for psychics. They're killing him, I need your help.'

'Calm down Dean, okay I'm on my way hang tight right where you are I'm only an hour away.'

'Thanks.' Dean broke the connection and then quickly messaged the co-ordinates and his exact location. After doing that, he sat down and stared at the cell phone in his hand, 'great now more freaking waiting.' He muttered bitterly.

TBC