Agony
Chapter Three
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural, and I'm not making any money from this fic. I don't even really own the plot of this, since the idea comes from a challenge posted by someone
Warning(s): Violence; some swearing; spoilers for the entire first season of Supernatural; AU; mental pain of the characters; description of Dean getting… pretty much beaten up
Author's Note: Thank you to those people who have taken the time to leave a review, as well as to those who have read this fic so far. I apologise for taking so long to update here, but I was working on other things as well.
Having said that… Please enjoy!
Dean leaned back slightly, closing his eyes for a moment. He felt really hopeless, especially since there was nothing he could do about the demon having control of his body. This must be something like what Sam must have felt when the psychotic doctor took control of his body and messed with his mind…
You all right, Deany-boy?
Dean flinched at the mental tone – it was unlike him, but he was too scared of what the demon might do to his brother. "What do you want?" he demanded. If that bastard hurts my brother, I swear I will kill it!
The demon laughed at the thoughts going through Dean's head. Face it, boy. You're no match for me. And even if you were, you couldn't do anything to me, since you know that I'll just go after your brother.
Dean hung his head, the feeling of helplessness growing. "Please don't hurt Sammy," he whispered. If it came to it, Dean would never hesitate to beg for his brother's life. He wouldn't hesitate to beg for his father's life, either – but then, John Winchester had already left.
Now if only Sammy would be that smart…
He won't leave you, the demon commented. And you know that. Let's be honest, Dean-boy. You don't want your brother to go away and leave you alone. It's like I told you. You need your family – but they don't need you. Not in the same way. You're of no use to them.
Dean closed his eyes for a moment, struggling mentally to keep his focus. If he lost his mind because of what was happening, then there would be no one to protect Sam from the demon's evil.
Do you really think you can resist me? the demon asked. Let me show you just what I mean.
Then, the walls around Dean fell away to reveal another place – that was very familiar to the young man.
He was on the floor of the asylum, his chest aching with pain that almost took his breath away. Lifting his head, Dean saw his baby brother holding the gun filled with rock salt trained on him. The pain didn't just come from the rock salt embedded in his chest; it also came from his broken heart.
Even though he knew that Sam wasn't able to help himself.
You see? the demon whispered inside Dean's mind. You'd give your life for your brother – but he would be happier if you were dead. Give him a gun and the right motivation, and he'll shoot you.
It wasn't his fault… Dean insisted. Doctor Ellicott messed with his mind. I know Sam would never try to kill me if he were in full control of himself.
Really?
"I hate you, Dean," Sam was saying. "It was your fault that Jess died. You should never have come to get me in Stafford. I was happy there. And I'm not happy here with you. I wish I'd never had to come with you!"
"That's not how it happened," Dean whispered. Despite his words, though, he closed his eyes, not wanting to see the hatred in his brother's face. If he's going to kill me… I don't want to watch him do it.
"This is what's happening." Sam moved closer to Dean, and then backhanded him hard across the face.
The force of the blow snapped Dean's head back, and he winced with the pain. Of course, that was nothing compared to the pain in his chest from the rock salt – but since it was his brother doing this, the mental pain was quite strong.
"Why don't you get up and fight?" Sam taunted. Without waiting for any kind of response, he slammed the barrel of the gun against the side of his brother's head.
Dean gasped, and blinked several times in order to clear his vision. This might just be going on inside his mind – but the pain was very real. "Sammy…" he whispered, trying to get through to his brother in any way.
"It's Sam," Sam replied. "Not Sammy; Sam. Understand?" He didn't let Dean give any reply before hitting him once again with the barrel of the gun.
Dean could feel the bruises on his face, and he winced. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked softly. He really does hate me that much. As Sam moved back slightly, Dean tried to push himself up, despite the pain from his wounds. The only thing he could think of was that he had to burn Ellicott's bones.
And then Sam would hopefully go back to normal. Dean refused to believe that his brother really hated him. Or, at least, he tried to. Tried to keep up the hope.
But it was so difficult…
Before Dean could get to his feet, Sam hit him again. Dean slumped slightly, blinking a few times to clear his vision. His forehead felt a little damp, but he didn't dare take his eyes off Sam long enough to check if he was bleeding or not.
Sam was suddenly holding a regular gun on his brother. Dean had no idea where his little brother had got the weapon from, and it didn't really matter. Without saying anything, Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Sammy… Sam. You don't want to do this."
Sam's lips twisted into a cruel smirk. "Yes I do." His finger tightened on the trigger.
Dean braced himself for the shot. However, it never came. The asylum fell away around him, and he was back in the prison in his mind.
Dean stumbled back and fell against the wall. He might no longer be in the asylum, but the pain was still there. He gasped and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing shallowly.
It's soul pain, the demon whispered. Much more effective than physical pain, wouldn't you agree?
"Go to hell!" Dean got out through gritted teeth.
The demon laughed. Then, Watch how you speak to me, boy. How do you think little Sammy would feel if his big brother suddenly attacked him? Killing your family is a big crime in this day and age, Dean-boy. You'll be locked up for years
Dean lowered his head, feeling defeated. "Please don't hurt Sam…" he mumbled.
If you behave yourself, I won't have to.
Sam slumped in the chair next to his brother's bed, watching Dean's pale face as the man slept. The younger brother felt tired and heartsick about what had happened, and it was made that much worse by the fact that Dean seemed to blame him for what happened.
I'm sorry, Sam thought miserably to the still form. He didn't know exactly what he had done wrong – but it had to be something. Dean was hurting and in a fever, but when he was lucid, he talked continually about getting revenge. On Sam.
It's not like Dean. But… I guess I've been too caught up in my problems; my own thoughts of revenge. I've made it clear that I'm gonna stay to get that demon, and then I'm going to leave him again.
No wonder he's angry with me…
Sam laced his fingers through his brother's cold ones, praying to whatever god or spirit watched over the Winchesters that Dean would wake up and be all right. And then he could apologise for hurting his brother; for the way he had played on Dean's love for him, even if he hadn't intended it that way.
"Please…" Sam whispered. Suddenly, his head jerked up, and he stared back over his shoulder as he thought he saw something passing by out of the corner of his eye.
There was nothing there.
Turning back to his brother, Sam's breath caught in his throat as he realised that Dean's eyes were open.