Hi folks!
Thanks for all the reviews - LamiaJade, I'm patient girl... but HURRY!!! ;).
Well, I think there's nothing else to tell ya... just some more angst and... well... read for ya self, and tell me what ya think!
Laterz guys!
He could feel something wet running up his back and neck, as he fought to find his way back to consciousness.
His arms and legs were numb and his head felt oddly. He tried to lift his head but it seemed that his brain didn't follow his orders, scrunching his nose, he heard someone whimper, and it took some time for him to understand that it was him. Fighting, he managed to open his eyes half-mast. It was then, that he comprehended what felt so wrong. He was hanging upside down!
Again he tried to move and a sharp, hot pain shot up his spine and let him almost pass out again.
Although his vision was blurry he knew he was in a cavern. His gaze wandered up his body and saw his spread arms. They bound him to a crucifix.
He tilted his head, cursing as another wave of pain ran along his body, and tried to see more of his surrounding.
"Sammy…" his voice was barely a whisper as he recognized the form of his brother on the floor.
Sam lay motionless and spread eagle on the cold stone-floor. His face was ashen, while his hair was sweat-soaked and clung to his head; the red trail running from his forehead into his hairline a ghastly contrast.
If it wasn't for the fast up and down of Sam's chest Dean would have thought Sam was dead.
He swallowed against the wave of dizziness and nausea, his eyes scrunched close. This was a mess.
He breathed deep, trying to calm his unsettled stomach, and caught the distinct smell of copper. His breath hitching again as he felt the tickle that ran down his back.
And Dean remembered…
SPNSPN
He didn't want to be quiet.
He wanted them to know he was coming. He wanted them to fight. What had fear been before was now fury. Fury against the men that had dared them, at the man who'd taunted him that he'd be not able to safe his brother. They all didn't know what a Winchester was capable of. But whatever he had expected it wasn't what he saw.
Sam lay sprawled out in the nave of the church, spread eagle. His arms and feet were bound and to each side one person knelt, only the one on his feet was standing, his arms outstretched a heavy, gleaming cross in one hand, praying loudly. For a moment Dean was frozen. Then time seemed to catch up as the priest standing at Sam's feet shouted a devoted "Amen", took the cross in both hands and raised it high above his head.
Dean stopped breathing, levering his gun, aiming and… the cross came down in an arc, aiming for Sam's chest, as the fist bullet left his gun and he started to run forward, his weapon still aiming at the priest, firing again.
Another shot rocked the sanctuary of the church and only now Dean heard the words he had bellowed at the group of men in front of him.
"Get off of him!" his voice echoed from the walls of the church.
He watched as the cross fell through open hands, hands that suddenly didn't seem to have enough power to hold it anymore and with the third bullet Dean had aimed at him, the priest fell, blood spluttering everywhere burying Sam under him.
The three men kneeling on each side of Sam didn't dare to move, hands held upwards, staring at the corps of the dead priest, whose eyes were wide open, staring unbelieving, unseeingly.
"Back!" Dean ordered, his voice harsh, his heart knocking hard against his ribcage, his senses over-alert. He watched the three man shuffle backwards ever so slowly… and then the one with the cruel eyes had something shiny in his hands. He saw it flying at him, hurtling towards him, as he pulled again the trigger, double tapping the guy, while at the same time diving out of the knifes flight path. He could feel it graze his shoulders hissing in pain at the burning sensation, and then he had rolled and was on his feet again. Feeling his gun knocked from his hands as the other two advanced on him.
The first guy he sent flying head first into one of the church-banks almost smirking as he heard the crunch of the man's nose and ducked out of the way, as the other one had reached him, trying to hit him in the face. The fight didn't last long, before his opponent moved straight into Dean's outstretched arm, giving a gurgling sound from him, he fell and lay still.
Panting heavily, Dean didn't waste any time, just stumbled the couple of steps over to Sam, who still was buried underneath the priest's burly form.
He fell on his knees, searching for his pocket-knife and cut through the tight ropes, wincing as he saw the raw wrists of his little brother. With all his might he pulled off the churchman from Sam, feeling his arms suddenly shake as he could, for the first time, see his brother's face. His complexion was ashen, a slightly bluish tinge to it and he could see several abrasions and a rather large cut that still seeped slightly. Removing the gag cautiously he saw more damage to his siblings face, clenching his teeth in anger.
"Sam…" his voice was a mere whisper, as he suddenly was afraid, that even if he was here before sunrise it was too late for Sam.
His fingers moved down to the spot in the crook of his brother's neck, searching for a pulse, almost sighing in relieve as he felt it throb painfully fast against his finger-tips and it was then, that he recognized what he missed.
The rising and falling of Sam's chest…
SPNSPN
It proved to be much more difficult to regain consciousness this time. He winced as he tried to move his over-stretched limbs and his eyes snapped open, as he remembered where he was. He was cold and he felt the wetness of the cave seep into his clothes where he lay on the stony ground. His eyes needed some time to get used at the semi-darkness and as his gaze finally settled on the cross on the opposite wall, memories rushed back.
He choked at the sight of his brother, hanging limply on the inverted crucifix. His arms and legs tied with thick rope to keep him in place. Dean didn't move. He hung, his head turned slightly to the right side, eyes closed and only the gentle but too fast rise and fall of his chest let Sam know that he was still alive.
Taking a deep breath, Sam tried the ropes that bound him down. As he felt the rope around his right wrist give away slightly he set to work; wriggling and ripping, stretching and loosening. Soon his wrist was raw and bleeding but Sam kept going. And he remembered…
SPNSPN
Rough hands held him down and he felt the air around him charge, nearly swinging in anticipation. His mouth turned dry and he could almost picture himself on the cold and hard ground, while his blood rushed through his veins, making it impossible for him to hear.
His breath hitched as the heavy feeling of condemnation reached its peak and the air started to grow alive, stopping breathing altogether he waited for the pain to spread through his body. He'd die tonight...
All stopped with a single gunshot.
Sam didn't really comprehend it as that, he could just feel it all stopping. The air discharged, the wind died down, letting him drift into a new calm and eerily quiet world.
He was floating now… knew that something important to him was missing, a heavy pressure on his quiet ribcage. But it wasn't painful. It calmed him even more… everything was alright now. And then the weight shifted, left him, and with it gone all his senses came back to him, slamming almost painfully into him.
The stench that hit him made him retch, because it smelled like dead and rotten. Gentle hands ghosted over his body, lifting him up with care and removed the gag. And with the hands came the familiar smell of leather and gunpowder that drowned out the reek of death and rotten. Sam almost sighed in relieve. And with the smell also came the voice, a soft and worried voice that helped him to find his way back to full awareness.
With the gag removed he finally was able to breathe freely again, in- and exhaling, taking in the scent, getting rid of the dead and the rotten. The voice continued to talk soothingly, the hands continued to care and tend, and also Sam didn't understand the words he grew calm, because the voice meant strength and the hands meant help.
Sharp pain ran through his forehead and he sobbed, but the darkness that had hindered his eyes vanished with this final pain and he forced his eyes open, looking into the deep green orbs of his brother…
To be continued...
Hope you enjoyed... Comments? Criticism? Let me know ;)