Blast From The Past

Disclaimer: Even after all of this time, I still only get to play with the boys then have to send them home, sigh.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this update posted. I have to slow down a wee bit my good shoulder has finally given way on me, which just happens to be my right one, (I'm right-handed.) It looks like I have bursitis in the shoulder joint and maybe some tendon wear and tear as well. So for now I am on my happy pills, and typing a little slower. Been just over 14 years since my original accident so I guess I've been lucky for my good shoulder and arm to last this long. So bear with me and I will get this story moving ;0)

Author's Note 2: Rated for language and violence, hurt and comfort with hurt! Sam and protective! Dean.

S—D

Chapter Five: Never underestimate … Never turn your back.

Then:

His breathing quickened when he heard the sliding side door open, it wasn't the rear ones this time, straining to hear anything at all, he couldn't help but let out a muffled yelp when rough hands grabbed his hair and wrenched his head back.

The gag yanked from his mouth gave him no respite, as a hand gripped his chin and forced his mouth wide open. Hyperventilating Sam froze when he heard Walt start to laugh and then as the viscous fluid was poured down his throat; the coppery taste registering immediately in his terrified mind. This couldn't be happening, not again. Although this time he was powerless to stop it, unable to fight back, all he could do was try to spit it out and not to swallow. In the end, though, it was all in vain as they held him in vice-like grips, the hand holding his chin pushed until his jaw clenched shut, another hand squeezed his nose shut, effectively cutting off any airflow, to prevent himself from choking on it, he had to swallow.

Kurt and Walt smiled at each other when they saw the exact moment their prisoner wilted and surrendered to the inevitable.

Now:

'There really is a hunt Dean.' Bart started unconsciously backing up slightly as he took in the look in Dean's eyes. 'I'm sure that it's Wendigos, campers have been going missing in extraordinary numbers over the last few months all in the Plains Ranges. Their equipment shredded and often covered in blood, it's almost as if the creatures don't worry about hiding anymore, that they are no longer hiding their hunts.'

'Doesn't sound … but then again …' Bobby mused as he wheeled over to his desk and pulled out a pen and pad to sketch out the details and area.

'Speed it up Bart, what else aren't you telling us?' Dean snapped his impatience morphing into intolerance blended with equal amounts of rage.

'Kurt and me, we've been hunting for a while now, Walt used to hunt with Kurt and we met him about a week ago. Weird when I think about it now,' Bart stopped and thought about it for a second and then continued trying to shake this feeling of being manipulated by a master and an oh so very human one at that.

'Bart!' Dean yelled for the second time breaking Bart's thoughts, 'enough of the memory trails.'

'Huh? Oh yeah right anyway Walt had the info on the hunt already but said he needed help and backup.'

'And?' Bobby prompted the younger man when he hesitated a cold feeling of dread settled in his gut as it all started to make sense.

'Kurt suggested that I use my history with Dean to get you guys to come in on the hunt as backup.' Bart finished in a rush, 'coz I wanted to get even with you Dean I went along with them without asking … dammit Dean I got played by the best.'

'They must've … they're gonna use Sammy as a human demon detector aren't they?' Dean asked his voice deceptively low and calm, 'and what else Bartholomew?'

'I don't know … honestly Dean I don't know.' Bart held his hands up in a show of surrender, 'all I know is that looking back now I got played man, I was just the means in getting to you and Sam.'

'Alright nuff of the macho crap, we gotta find Sam and then ya can kick the shit outta each other for all I care, idjits.' Bobby dropped his pad on his knees and wheeled back to the others, 'right we know where to look, I gotta get a couple of … things, now the impala aint gonna change her own tyres so the two of ya git.'

Dean opened his mouth to protest but saw the look Bobby gave him, clamping his mouth shut he turned and strode outside without waiting for Bart to follow. At least he could fix his baby.

S—D

Sam's body felt like it was on fire, literally. The tainted blood scalded as it flooded through his system. So far they had forced the blood down his throat three times and always left with a parting promise of more. The cramps were the worst he had ever felt, it was as though he was having a reaction against the blood.

Moaning he desperately tried to find a slightly more comfortable position but the floor of the van just kept getting harder beneath him. His wrists and ankles felt chaffed and raw from the cuffs biting into his flesh, his T-shirt clung to his skin, and his jeans formed a second skin as they both tightened drenched in his sweat and other bodily fluids. His breathing was now shallow pants and the darkness was starting to become his friend.

Through his delirium it suddenly hit him; he was going through the symptoms of withdrawal at the same time as renewing the addiction. Terrified, his thrashing and struggling became more frantic this was so wrong the demon's blood never caused this kind of reaction before he had to get out before he suffocated.

As the burning increased and heated his blood Sam felt like his entire being was going to erupt through his flesh, a primordial scream ripped its way through his body and spewed from behind his gag. His back arched and twisted painfully contorting in his restricted position.

'Shut the fuck up.' Walt roared as he slammed the van door open and leered over Sam, 'what the fuck?'

'What's wrong Walt?' Kurt asked after he heard Walt's startled cursing.

'Git in here now Kurt, something aint going right with the freak,' Walt cried out, 'where did ya get that blood from?'

'From a couple of different sources,' Kurt snapped, 'aint like ya can go and buy the stuff at the local market.'

'Mixed blood? He's got mixed fucking blood.' Walt sat back on his heels as he watched Sam start to convulse the animalistic roars now breathless mewls. 'Fuck he can't kick it until …'

'The others will be here soon Walt maybe we should slow his intake?'

'Maybe … one thing he stinks and another thing is that we need him at least mobile or it's not gonna work.' Walt snarled his anger soon morphed into rage as he saw his perfect plan start to crumble in front of him.

The interior of the van was suddenly silent, the seizures dissipated and Sam slumped against the metal flooring, limp and unmoving. Walt stared down at his hapless prisoner and without another thought lashed out, striking Sam viciously. His blows rained down on the unconscious young man, his body jerking and sliding on the slick floor with each hit.

Kurt backed away from the van, he ran a hand through his greasy hair while he watched his partner go ballistic on the freak. When Walt had first contacted him with his plan Kurt was all for it. He had his own scores to settle with John Winchester and now the man was dead he was determined to take them out on the next best things … his sons.

The fact that Sam Winchester was the freak to end all freaks was icing on the cake as far as Kurt was concerned, but now seeing him lying like that in the van, beaten and barely alive and hyped up on demon blood, though it appeared to Kurt that the kid was having an allergic reaction to the stuff.

'Get outta there Walt, take a walk and cool off.' Kurt yelled grabbing Walt's bloodied fist, 'if you kill him then they'll kill you.'

S—D

Dean folded Bobby's wheelchair and put it in the backseat next to Bart, not caring if it took more room than originally thought. 'Sorry bout that but ah no room in the boot.' He grinned ruthlessly at his extra passenger.

'No problems dude.' Bart grinned back, the games have started.

'Do I have to separate the two of ya already?' Bobby grumbled from the front passenger seat, 'coz I will stupid idjits.'

'So you're sure that they're still gonna go to do the hunt?' Dean demanded again as he pulled out of Bobby's driveway, with a cloud of dust behind them, the smell of burnt rubber and squealing breaks he sped off towards the highway.

'Yeah that I'm sure of,' Bart shifted in his seat and cleared his throat before he continued to speak. 'They were insistent on a group hunt for the nest I think they've got a few more meeting them up there.'

'More?' Bobby turned his head to stare at Bart before returning his attention to Dean behind the wheel, 'damn me!'

'What is it Bobby?' Bart sat up and stared at the older hunter, confusion written across his face.

'They're not hunting the Wendigos, the creatures are the bait.'

'What the fuck?' Dean shot a glance over at Bobby and then pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road, 'they're hunting Sammy.'

S—D

Sam slitted his eyes open and tried to focus on his surroundings, after a few minutes he realised that he was no longer in the van or shackled. Instead he was lying on a thin mattress with a coarse blanket thrown over him.

Gradually his sight cleared enough for him to make out exactly where he was and it didn't fill him with any sense of hope. The dark, damp cellar was small, barely wide enough to accommodate his long frame. The wall directly opposite him was lined with wooden shelves filled with jars of various sizes and all filled with strange looking blobs. A set of wooden steps wavered into view at his feet and that was it, the rest of it was empty and confining.

'Concentrate Sam,' he muttered shaking his head and immediately regretted it as lightening and sparks exploded in his head, 'stupid so stupid.'

After two attempts Sam finally managed to push himself upright, immediately his breathing eased, but still rattled in his abused lungs. From the way his ribs moved he knew at least two of them were broken, maybe even three of them. 'Gotta get moving, get outta here.'

'You're not going anywhere yet freak.' Walt snarled from the top of the steps.

'Why … why are you … doing this?' Sam asked breathlessly.

Walt chuckled and sat down on the top step putting the flask he was carrying next to him, 'ya know this isn't totally personal Sam … Sammy. When I first heard of you Winchesters I thought that the legend was bigger than the real deal. Then John Winchester, the almighty great hunter stuffed around Kurt and hung him out to dry but the bastard kicked it before he could get his own back.' Walt stared down at his captive for a moment, 'hey, hey don't you go passing out on me Winchester.'

'I'm … here.' Sam mumbled and blinked owlishly up at the man.

'Good coz the story is just getting to the good part, ya see we found out that the Winchester brothers kept hunting, didn't give a rat's arse for anyone else as long as they were together, weird enough. But then the kicker, the youngest Winchester was a freak, and not just any freak but one who had visions, who could do things no human could do. A freak addicted to demon blood and even fucked a demon.'

'That's … not …'

'Don't you fucking say that's not true, coz you know that it is, you little shit. Yeah right you got taken in by a bit of demon ass but drinking the bitch's blood that's a whole other level of fucked up shit.'

'You don't … don't know … what … you're … talking … about.' Sam wheezed his anger masking his pain just enough to keep him upright.

'Then the freak started to do all of this stuff, like oh I dunno start the fucking apocalypse? Yeah you pulled a few demons from their meat-suits … let's have a parade, if it wasn't for you …'

'What do you … want?' Sam gasped his energy and anger spent, 'just kill me if that's what you're going to do.'

'Kill you? Nah we have something much more entertaining for you … Samuel Winchester.'

'What? No … No please no more.' Sam gasped his eyes widening as he saw the flask in Walt's hand as he appeared next to the mattress.

'Two choices freak, you drink it yourself or I'll pour it down your throat, either way you will be drinking this.'

'Get fucked.' Sam spat out with the last of his waning strength.

'I was hoping you wouldn't give in.' Walt chuckled, using his brute strength he easily subdued the badly injured and ill younger man, 'means more fun for me.'

Just as he poured the still warm blood down Sam's throat, Walt found that he had a face covered in blood and then he was flying across the room. With his head still spinning and nausea wreaking havoc in his stomach Sam pushed himself up onto his feet and lurched towards the steps, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away the tainted blood he cast one last look back at the still stunned Walt. Shakily he locked the door and using the wall to keep himself upright Sam moved into the main part of the hunting cabin.

Moving to what he hoped was the rear of the place, Sam left a bloody trail of handprints in his wake along the wall and droplets of the precious fluid on the floor, and he stumbled just before reaching the back door and crashed to his knees. Gasping for breath Sam pulled himself up and reached out for the door handle praying that it was unlocked.

Nearing the end of his energy and reserves of adrenaline Sam toppled down the steps onto the gravel, blinded momentarily by the bright sunshine, he felt tears well up as his eyes fought the onslaught of light and heat. The clicking of a gun's safety coming off made him freeze; he was so close to – to what Sammy? Fainting? Was the last coherent thought he could remember before the blow came knocking him out into blissful oblivion.

'Going somewhere freak?' Kurt sneered as he pulled back his hand and struck Sam across the back of his head with the butt of his gun. 'The guest of honour can't leave before his party begins!'

TBC