Just outside the storm raged. Rain fell in heavy, thick sheets, obscuring vision and making it difficult to see more than a foot or two in the elemental din. It had been building for what felt like ages, the air heavy and thick and pregnant. Like waiting for the breath just after delivery, the air held enough promise to make a grown man weep. And when it broke, the storm was cacophonous in its' fury, as though even it had been made to wait. Thunder rolled through the world, echoing off of everything and claiming what had once been silent and calm for its' own; lightning led the way, crackling and sizzling through the sky. It destroyed trees and set fires as though it were a creature only just let loose from a cage that had barely contained it. It blinded many and terrified a handful but captivated all as they watched in awe through steaming windows.
It was the lightning which woke her, its' sharp crackle of electricity searing her eyes behind closed lids and jerking her violently from her deep, dreamless sleep. Thunder followed almost instantaneously on the heels of the searing bolt, a furious rumble that began with a bang so intense it shook her to the bone before it tapered off into an angry murmur.
Confused and half-asleep, the Hunter attempted to sit up, hissing as she was forced back into a prone position, panicked and furious to find herself restrained. Her body retaliated, cramps and waves of pain sought her every limb and left her nearly immobilized. She sought some sort of release from the spasms now wracking her body, forcing herself to stretch and move her limbs within the bonds. Moments passed and the pain ebbed, leaving her panting and with a light sheen of sweat along her brow. As she lay, prone and worn out, she realized that she had no idea where she was. The restraints, two at her ankles and two at her wrists, felt awfully familiar to those in Bobby's detox room. She waited as patiently as she was able until the next bold of lightning struck, illuminating the small room she was being held in.
For just a moment she was flooded with relief. Of all the places she might be, Bobby's detox room was not one of them. The room had the feel and (she sniffed) the smell of a hospital. Craning her neck and twisting around, Sam saw that she was in a bed; sheets bundled up around her feet. The head of her bed was pressed against a wall opposite the door. A set of cabinets and a counter lined the adjacent wall on her left. Shifting, she turned to face the right and saw what looked like a window seat. Above the seat was a window, huge and offset only by a set of curtains, lying still and dead in the dark, framing the edges of the window. Beyond that, Sam could see a small table set against the wall directly across from the bed beside the door and. She assumed, could she see properly, that the floors would be linoleum, the ceiling either that popcorn-painted whitewall or foam tiles. With the exception of the window seat, the room was a stereotypical hospital room.
The restraints were a surprise, however. The last thing she remembered was having a fever and feeling ill; surely they wouldn't have needed to restrain her? She closed her eyes against the rising panic she felt building within her, swallowing back the bilious taste in her throat as all the possible variations of how she came to be here. She fidgeted in her restraints, belly filled with tight, coiled anxiety. Incapacitated and unable to do so much as to brush away a particularly frustrating strand of hair from her nose, Sam contemplated her options.
"Okay," She murmured aloud. "Okay. Okay how did we get here? That's step one." Sam's hands clenched and relaxed as she spoke aloud.
"The motel. It was- It was snowing."
A vision, so sharp and painfully clear flashed through her mind and, for a moment, she saw a snowstorm where now there was a torrential downpour. She gasped, arching off the bed as her mind became blank and her vision whited out, pain lancing through her body.
"Sei-seizure? I'm having seizures?" She gasped, beads of sweat gathering on her brow. Confusion, exhaustion, foggy thoughts, and restraints; everything pointed to seizures. Sam relaxed; she wasn't in the middle of withdrawal, she wasn't being punished, and she was being treated. Her gaze drifted towards the window where outside the storm continued to rage, the wind whipping torrents of rain against the glass. Occasionally the rumble of thunder and crackle of lightning punctuated the sounds of rain and she found this soothing. Whereas Dee had always been a restless sleeper during inclement weather, terrible weather was when Sam slept the best. It reminded the younger Winchester that nature had always and WOULD always run its' course.
Sam could not help but call out for help, shivering and shaking without the warmth of her blanket. She allowed herself to fall into the stereotypical patient mold, demanding help then pleading for it, all for nearly ten minutes before finally ceasing. Throat hoarse, Sam slammed her head back into the mattress, grumbling and squirming in an entirely child-like display of irritation. Ears straining, Sam listened for some semblance of activity in the hallway, hoping for the scuff of a shoe on tile or the squeak of gurney wheels. Instead she heard the faint echo of something unrecognizable; garbled, muffled sounds drifting in between the sounds of the storm.
A quick glance showed her that there was no nurse call button anywhere nearby and no matter how she stretched her limbs she couldn't even cover her feet with the sheet. A frustrated whoosh of air escaped her mouth as she did what she could to force her pillow back beneath her head with a few inventive shifts of her head and neck.
Feeling somewhat fatalistic about the whole situation, Sam tried to take comfort in the fact that at least her neck would not ache quite so much when she awoke. The bit of hope she'd clung to that someone would come to check on her was beginning to dissipate as her eyelids grew heavier. There were a myriad of things to be concerned with; a million questions without answers. Still, she had the rain. Waves of downpour struck the window, as regular as the tide and with the aide of the weather it took only a few minutes for her to drift back into a dreamless sleep.
OoOoOoO
"Alright Sam, are we feeling better today?" Sam had already been half-awake, dozing and drifting in and out of sleep for almost half an hour by the time the orderly pushed open the door and flicked on the overhead lights. The harsh fluorescents stung her eyes, involuntarily forcing them shut. A moment or two passed, during which the orderly (female and young, judging solely off her chipper, southern-tinged accent), had continued bustling about the room.
"Come on now, Sammy, I know you're awake! You ain't an actress of any kind." A laugh, more movement, and then the woman was hovering over Sam's face, the actions felt more than seen as Sam slowly blinked away the lights. "Come onnnn now, Samantha! You gotta get up! I saved you some of that rice puddin' stuff you like so much but it won't be there forever."
Sam was confused, frustrated as her eyes refused to focus. She followed the woman's movements as she began undoing the straps at her ankles, head bent over her task.
"Jo?" She blurted out the name as her vision came into focus. The hair, the eyes, the nose the chin the jaw… But the eyes were wrong. Her eyes were green; a green so bright and so clearly confused by the name she had just blurted out that the Winchester instantly felt herself relax. Sam began to notice other inconsistences. The orderly's hair was shorter and a darker blonde, almost brown.
"Jeeeeeez Sammy, are they upping your dosage or somethin'? I'm hurt. You can't even remember my name." The woman sighed in exasperation as she rubbed at the ligature marks standing out in stark contrast against Sam's pale skin.
"Don't worry, Sam. I'll talk to them about this; I've TOLD them that you're gonna hurt yourself. I bet you had at least two seizures last night, judging on the color on your wrists. You feelin' sore?" As though this was the key which unlocked the floodgates, Sam was finally able to respond.
"I-I'm sorry I don't know where I am. I don't know who you are, or why I woke up strapped to this table. I don't know anything right now and I'm getting a little angry. I called for help last night for hours; don't you guys make rounds or check up on the patients during the night?" The woman froze, fingers wrapped gently around Sam's ankles as though she had intended to rub blood back into her limbs. After a moment or two the woman straightened, eyes wary and face lined with sadness as she looked down at Sam.
"Oh, Sammy… Not again. Come on, you gotta remember me, you just gotta. They're gonna put you back," She cut herself off, loosing a series of frustrated noises before sighing. "Listen, just…just keep it cool, okay? You usually remember everything before lunch, anyway so… I'm going to let you up, okay? I'm not even going to use a sedative! But don't think I won't." She said, throwing a sharp look to the still prone Sam as she resumed rubbing the bruised skin.
"I got a syringe full of that stuff at all times; you KNOW I do. So don't you mess with me right now, okay, Sammy?" Realizing that she had dug herself into some kind of hole, Sam nodded, eyes wide and calculating as she watched the woman who looked like Jo but who was not Jo move from one ankle to the next. Seconds passed as the woman attempted to rub feeling back into Sam's numb ankles. The orderly frowned and wrapped her arm around Sam's shoulders when she had rubbed each limb and slowly, moving with the well-trained caution of a master, pulled Sam into a sitting position. Sam winced at the movement and found that her shoulders were so stiff she was nearly unable to lift her arms.
"Come on, then Sam. I'll get you something for the stiffness once we've got some food in you. Now let's go get some breakfast!" Sam nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and padded silently out of the room and down the hallway, following the orderly without engaging in any of the conversation the woman was trying to have. The woman seemed happy enough to chatter alone as they walked. Now that she was standing and could see herself more clearly in the light of day she saw that she was dressed in what looked like scrubs. They were sky blue with white trim along the lining. Just before leaving, the orderly had offered her a pair of what were like slippers but sturdier, meant to be worn as shoes. These too were white, and surprisingly comfortable. The clothes fit well and were as comfortable as the slippers. None of these things made her feel safe. Worse yet, it was as though she had walked these halls before. Everything from the smell to the color of the floor tiles felt too familiar.
Sam frowned as they rounded a corner; she'd been in hundreds of hospitals in her life and each hospital had always had similar layouts. The halls and rooms always looked the same, they had always had that same sickening antibacterial smell, and had always served the same god-awful food.
The sinking feeling in the pit of her belly had solidified and Sam knew she had been here before. The moment of déjà vu passed as they rounded yet another corner, replaced almost instantly with horrified confusion. Sam had assumed that she was leading her to some sort of mess hall, a place perhaps where she could get some information, make a phone call, talk to someone in charge.
Instead what she found as she rounded the corner was a group of people dressed in the same attire she currently wore. Some were standing, some sitting and playing board games. Some-some were wandering in circles. Some were mumbling and twitching their hands as though there were flies or gnats buzzing about their faces. Many were just staring. Whether sitting or standing, the ones who stared carried both a vacant and sad look about them, as though they'd given up hope and weren't even aware that they'd made that choice.
"What the hell," She murmured, catching a dirty look from the woman who was not Jo.
"Language, Sammy! You know how that upsets everyone. Come on now; go sit down and I'll bring you some food, okay? We were a little late, so we missed the meal period but I'm sure I can rustle something up." The orderly brushed Sam's arm and wandered away, leaving Sam to stand among a group of strangers who appeared to have lost control of their faculties. Her sharp eyes swept the crowd and she was unsure if she was more or less disheartened to see that she recognized none of the faces. Sam's eyes narrowed, mouth parting ever so slightly in something like confusion, mind working to make sense of what she was seeing as the friendly orderly wandered off and through a door that required a keycard to open. There were tables and chairs scattered around the room and just beside the door, a giant viewing window with another set of orderlies staring out behind it. And for quite some time she simply stood there, staring like so many of the others around her.
It hit her like a ton of bricks knocking the breath out of her, making her light-headed, dizzy as all the pieces finally came together.
This was not a hospital. Or, at least, not the sort of hospital she had initially believed it to be.
Sam's face contorted, something like rage and terror and hysteria all culminating there as something inside cracked, a hairline fracture, down the center. Before she knew what she was doing, Sam strode purposefully over to the observation bubble beside the door the orderly had walked through. She stared, her fury visible in her bared teeth and wide eyes. Open palmed, Sam began to slap at the glass, fighting for the attention of the two behind the bubble. When that didn't work, she curled her hands into fists and starting to pound on the glass. She began to scream, demanding attention, ordering someone to bring her the one in charge.
Behind her she could just sense the other residents beginning to stir, many of them joining Sam's screams with their own. She didn't care. She watched as the woman on the other side of the glass tried to tell her to calm down and still she continued on. Blood appeared on the wall and Sam was aware that it was her own and that she was hurt but she attacked the wall with everything she had, feeling none of the pain as she allowed whatever horrible thing was running her show to take control. Behind her, the other occupants of the room had moved beyond curious and excited and were beginning to frenzy. Their shouts and exclamations sometimes mirrored Sam's but mostly were nonsensical and difficult to separate in the increasing din of the common room.
It wasn't until the security guards, approaching from behind with a needle full of a strong sedative, managed to take hold of the Winchester that she really began to fight. She bucked and screamed and flailed and, for the first time she could ever remember, allowed her fear and her terror to take hold, to run with her. The pinprick of the needle was followed closely by the icy rush of the sedative sweeping through her veins and then…
Nothing.
OoOoOoOoO
Samantha Winchester woke in the same place she'd started, strapped down on an uncomfortable bed, windows rattling as the wind and the rain continued to lay siege to the hospital. Groggy. She was groggy. And tired. Bone wearily, exhaustedly tired. This time, however, she was somewhat comforted to find that there had been a small table lamp brought in and it was, currently, on. She found herself drifting almost immediately back into sleep despite the light, and it was only the realization that she was not alone in the room that snapped her awake. Attempting to shift to sit up, even a little, met with such a painful resistance that she could not help but gasp as pain shot through her limbs and jolted in her head. Through the remaining effects of the sedative Sam was aware of a monstrous headache, pounding and throbbing in the back of her head.
If she was in fact in a mental institution, as she now believed herself to be, then certainly she had not made a positive case for herself by having a breakdown in the common room. What had happened back there? Sam had no idea; she couldn't remember ever losing control of herself so thoroughly before. Fear, perhaps? In any case, there was still the question of the other person in the room. Sam imagined the sweet Jo look-alike coming around to huff at her and she sighed.
"I know you're there, just-just get it over with. Whatever examination or questions you have for me, just get them out of the way. I can't sleep knowing there's someone here, alright?" Inwardly she winced at her own voice; it was rough and worn, and she could feel the pain in her torn up throat as she used it. At first she was met with silence. A stillness both preternatural and vacuous and suddenly Sam was sure that whatever they were pumping into her was causing this elaborate and altogether surreal hallucination. She was in a hospital; at least that much she could and would believe. She remembered feeling sick, so sick. And the fever, she could remember that as well. So yes; Sam Winchester could believe that she was currently in a hospital. But a mental institution? Now that really WOULD be insanity. A smile curved across her lips as she began to drift off.
"Guess I can't really fool you, Sam." That voice. "Not that I've ever been able to fool you. Not really."
"You're not real." Sam growled, limbs taut and straining against the bonds. The aches in her limbs exploded into red-hot pain as she twisted and pulled at them, struggling to see behind her.
"Oh? Not real?" So condescending, the smirk felt as his voice drifted in from behind her. She tilted her head up as far as she was able but gasped and jerked forward as pain lanced down her neck and radiated out into her shoulders. Her muscles gave out and she slumped to the bed, panting quietly and shaking. The meds. Whatever she was on had to be causing these hallucinations. Before she could begin pulling at the straps holding her back she felt a pressure on her shoulders and just beside her neck a chill that was anything but weather related.
"Sorry to break it to ya, Sammy…" He murmured, breath ghosting against her ear. "But I'm as real as you. While we're here, at least." The pressure at the top of her shoulders slid down, his touch as icy as a winter storm. Sam shivered when his fingers reached her skin and again when she felt his face against her own. Incapable of moving, the hunter could do little more than turn her head from his, the cords on her neck standing out against her skin at her strain. She was even more horrified when he brought his nose and face closer, nuzzling at her neck and breathing in as though smelling her.
"You smell like heaven, Sammy." He murmured, lips at her ear. Sam froze, incapable of responding as he nuzzled the delicate skin just below her ear. She sucked in her breath, body tensing at the sensation; the tip of his nose was icy, as though he had just come inside from the snowy tundra. The breath ghosting along her neck was almost chilly and she could not help the shiver that started at her fingertips and ended at her toes.
He chuckled and then his presence was gone, physically at least. His words, however, seemed to linger. Floating in the room nearly as physical as his touch had seemed.
The touch that had felt so achingly sinful, so delicate, so needful.
Her belly cramped and she groaned, fists clenched and toes curling as she fought a sudden wave of nausea. Time passed in the way that it always does and at some point during the night, the hunter drifted off into sleep.
OoOoOoOoO
Her first indication that it had not all been a dream were the lights, bright and sudden and demanding her attention through her groggy haze.
"Samantha." A demand for attention, with no room to deny the authority. She shuddered and slowly Sam made her way back to reality and conscious thought. Reality hurt, oh boy did it hurt; the hunter could not remember a time in her recent past where there was so much pain and soreness after a hunt. A new type of pain had surfaced in her stomach; her abdomen reflected her stomach's attempt to empty itself in that painful sort of way that always followed getting sick. She groaned, trying to ignore the feeling of something long dried on her cheeks.
"Ahh, I see your ears are at least functioning… Nurse, check her wrists and ankles, it looks like she was struggling during the night. Possible seizure… And how are we feeling Samantha?" That voice…it was as familiar as that orderly's had been, the one who looked and sounded exactly like Jo, when Sam had first come around. A few difficult swallows and an attempt to open her eyes later and Sam finally tried to speak.
"Confused…Hurt…Everything…hurts…" She managed before her throat closed back up and she groaned. Her head was positioned up and her left eyelid was forced open and a bright light entered her vision. She hissed, tried to pull away, to protect herself from whatever they were about to do, her body tensed and ready to spring free like a coil being held down by the force of many. A few seconds later and the light was removed from one eye and moved the second, leaving her left eye unable to focus, spots of light still littering her vision. Her right eye was released faster than her left eye and she spent the next several seconds trying to blink her vision back to normal; it was wholly reminiscent of the uber-vamps and their den and she suddenly snapped to the realization that she had not seen Dee since waking here. Her struggles began anew, both the doctor and nurse standing now just out of her view.
"I don't understand what's happening or…or where I am. Let me up, right NOW. Even-even here I have to have at least a phone call, right? I need to get ahold of my sister, damn it!"
"Now calm down there, Sammy." The man cooed, sliding back into her sight, a syringe held in his hand. Any reaction, any words she might have had held waiting in the wings died on her tongue as she stared, unabashedly up at the man standing over her. The syringe was tiny and as he tied off her arm with a small piece of rubber tubing she managed to grasp that he meant to draw her blood. This, even, fell to the wayside as her eyes grew impossibly wide and her throat clicked, unable to draw enough moisture there to speak.
"B-B…" She stuttered. "Bobby? Bobby what the…what are you doing here?" The man frowned, glancing up from her arm where he was rubbing an antiseptic pad along the crook of her arm in preparation to draw blood.
"Nurse, she's delirious…She's gone back to calling me Bobby." He sighed and inserted the needle with a gentleness that still managed to surprise the Winchester. "This is some major backsliding; we may need to get Nick in on this." The casual way he spoke of his superior meant, to the uncomfortable Samantha, that she was not meant to listen nor to understand what he was speaking about, nor whom he was referring to. In the meantime, she could not remove her eyes from the man hovering over her. Her earlier encounter with the orderly she had believed to be Jo was beginning to seem less and less like a coincidence. This was confirmed as the nurse to whom Bobby (for she no more knew what he went by than what the orderly called herself), stepped into her sight and revealed herself to be the host body that Ruby had inhabited, all dark hair and calm, worried eyes. That urge to vomit rose once more and it was all she could do to repress it.
"Get this checked with the lab; I'm worried that we've increased her dosage too quickly…it would account for her sudden and intense backsliding." He leaned over and brushed a lock of her likely matted and tangled hair from her cheek, a look of genuine concern on his face. Sam felt all the more sick as her eyes traced every wrinkle, every plane, ever dip and curve of his face. Everything was spot on, accurate, correct. This was BOBBY standing above her, taking her blood, keeping her strapped down. She very nearly asked how long ago she'd fallen off the wagon but, further down on some subconscious level, it struck her as a bad question to ask. Her face contorted, pain and anguish overwhelming what little calm she had left at this point as she watched Bobby watching her, his own face a carefully calculated map of worry and concern hiding his calculating thoughts beneath. It was so entirely un-Bobby and Bobby at the same time that Sam wasn't sure which emotion to give in to.
"Bobby, come on, this isn't funny. I…know why I might be here, okay? I get that. But come ON, Bobby. You can't…can't just pretend you don't know me. I mean, know ME, okay?" She murmured, catching and holding his gaze where she couldn't catch and hold his hand. Bobby sighed, setting down the clipboard and pen he'd been using moments prior on the set of cabinets behind him. For almost a minute his eyes searched her own, eyebrows knitting in something similar to, but not quite reaching, concern. Her heart sank; as much as her eyes tried to tell her that this was Bobby, she knew different. Before she could try to say anything else, a woman, the nurse, stepped into her field of vision and she all but snarled at the woman who, in return, simply narrowed her eyes and 'harumphed', as though Sam's reaction was irritating but not altogether new.
"You'd think after so long she'd stop hating me so much…" The woman who was Ruby but who was not Ruby, muttered to no one in particular as she slid from Sam's sight and proceeded to take notes (if the scratching of pen on paper could be any indication of her activities). Sam was, quite sadly, unable to refrain from a heavy rolling of her eyes; even in whatever universe she'd found herself in Ruby was still a drama queen. As though this simple thought was a catalyst, Sam suddenly understood just what was happening and, visibly, she relaxed. Her mind. This was all in her mind. From the irrational and overwhelming fear she'd felt earlier to the staff who looked like people from her life, they were all in her head. Which, now that she was considering it, made Lucifer's sudden appearance the night prior significantly more relevant especially since the last couple of times she'd seen the fucker he'd been messing around with her dreams. Having reached this conclusion, Samantha relaxed and kept quiet, saying nothing more and refusing to respond to anything "Bobby" said. All the while her mind whirred and clicked away; if she were essentially caught in a dream she assumed it to be some sort of coma she'd fallen into. Likely a supernatural one. And if that was the case then perhaps there would be a way to escape, just as supernaturally as she'd entered it. Playing into the theme of the dream was not something she would do, however, she would not actively fight against it.
"Well, Sammy, I'm gonna get this blood off to the lab and we'll see what's goin' on, alright? In the meantime, I'm gonna send Doctor Alonsei along; you two always get along so FAMOUSLY. He'll set you right, get you out and about, m'kay?" Though Sam nodded in response she did not believe he saw it; his face was aimed down at the clipboard he'd slyly reached for while Sam had had her epiphany, a pair of glasses having materialized onto his face as he scribbled and scratched at the papers on the board. All the while Sam's mind drifted, thoughts of how best to break free taking up the majority of her cognitive thought; she figured, first, she would need to determine just what sort of a mind trap it was… All thoughts pointed to something Lucifer concocted. It didn't have the same feel as a Djinn trap…the lack of an idyllic setting and the fact that she was aware at this point that she was simply in her mind made it seem like a nearly impossible choice. She frowned, paying little attention as "Bobby" and "Ruby" left the room empty and quiet. Though likely something related to Lucifer (his appearance the night prior made that seem the MOST likely choice), it had the same feel as the demon blood. When she was withdrawing. And at the same time, it didn't. She was feeling some of the symptoms, she supposed. That constant ache for it never seemed to go away. She still felt like she was on fire, as though she were running a fever though neither "Bobby" nor "Ruby" had said anything regarding it. The hallucinations on top of it all made her feel both nervous and twisty in the stomach. Unconsciously she'd begun chewing on her bottom lip, worrying at it as she worried over this problem in her mind, taking small bites and trying to consider it from every angle in an attempt to remain calm, remain calm…remain…calm…
"Good morning, Samantha." Sam froze, closing her eyes and counting to ten. She had a feeling that, aside from seeing Dee herself appearing in this fucked up Wonderland of Horrors, she was unlikely to meet any other personalities (aside from her mother and father, and she was more than praying they wouldn't make an appearance here) that would jar her so strongly. After what felt like long enough, Sam finally opened her eyes, heart aching as she watched one person she'd never expected to see again in any format slide smoothly into view.
"Jess…Jesse, what…" She murmured as she caught and held his gaze. His hair, always a little too long while they'd been together, was pulled back in a low ponytail with only a few strands escaping to frame his face. Dirty blond, his hair, with natural highlights from the sun led a surfer-like appearance to the lean, able-bodied man. His muscles were well defined but not over-bearing, something she'd approved of from the first moment she saw him to the moment he'd first playfully tossed her over his shoulder. Sam pushed past this particularly painful memory as she continued to study him, eyes roving with careful intent as she simultaneously compared what she saw to what she remembered and stored it all away for later analysis. A day or two of stubble, already growing into a beard framed his strong jaw and a straight nose that fit his equally strong features completed an altogether handsome face. But it was his eyes, sky blue and warm, dancing with delight as they met her own, that really broke her heart. A chocked sob tried to escape and she swallowed it back, pushing back the wave of sorrow at seeing his face here in this most twisted of locales. Seeing him again was as potent and as physically arresting as a punch to the stomach. Had she been standing, Sam knew she would have been doubled over in pain. As it was, she pulled and twisted once more at her wrist and ankle cuffs, muscles tensed despite the pain it caused as she ground her teeth together.
Whether through the physical displays of agitation were showing through or not, it seemed Jesse noticed that something was off. He frowned, eyebrows knitting up into a look of concern that, had her heart not already been shattered, would have destroyed it as waves of nostalgia and loneliness and hurt washed briefly over her. He set the clipboard that he'd carried in with him down and removed a pair of glasses she had not noticed were present from his nose.
"Sammy…what's wrong? Ah jeez, was Dahlia here?" He frowned and let loose an exasperated sigh. He leaned forward and began to undo the restraints at her ankles. "She's always messing with your mind; you know you can't let her bother you too much." He tutted, fingers brushing against the bruised skin at her ankles, applying just enough pressure to cause Sam to wince as he checked the extent of the marks.
"These things really did a number on ya, huh Sammy?" She shuddered, nearly imperceptible, as he leaned over to release her wrists; his smell…even his smell was the same. "Don't worry; I'm gonna have a talk with your other doctors. There's gotta be a better way to keep you safe than…" He trailed off as he released the final strap and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. With little sounds of encouragement Jesse lifted her from the table, taking care to move slowly as she winced with pain. Once she was sitting up and she appeared stable, albeit incapable of moving the majority of her body, Jesse or Doctor Alonsei or whoever this was leaned away and out of her extremely limited range of vision (neck too sore to even tilt to the side). For a second she tensed, panicked briefly by her inability to move, as the sounds of metallic objects jostling against one another reached her ears.
"Here, now." His voice, so soft, back at her ear. Again she shuddered, gaze now directed down to see the cup of what looked like water held in his hand. Skeptically she directed her gaze at him, eyes narrowed in distrust. He laughed and pressed the glass into her open hand.
"YES it's got something in it but it's just something to help you relax. I just know how you don't like taking pills and clearly our walk isn't going to happen if you can't even move." Still she hesitated for fear of what drinking it might do to her. His tone was genuine but he was not real (as she had already firmly decided) and so she was finding it difficult to drink. It was cool in her hand, the condensation just beginning to form as a light fog around the edges and contours of the glass.
With a sigh that seemed to speak volumes, she brought the glass to her lips and downed it in three gulps. His applause and laughter was the first thing she heard before the glass was taken from her and his smile was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes and her heart was breaking all over again.
"See! I knew you could do it." That playfulness. She stiffened when he reached an arm out to help her turn. His movements were slow, measured; it was as though she were glass and very likely to break with too harsh a breath. She hated to admit it, but she hoped the painkiller would kick in soon. Her thoughts turned to what sort of prison she was trapped in and just how real everything, including the pain, actually was. Sam was not aware when it was that Jesse eased a pair of those soled slippers onto her feet, though she managed to snap back into her current thoughts as he gently pulled her from the bed and onto her feet.
It was only through sheer force of will and a steady set of hands on her arms that she managed to keep her legs from buckling. Already she could feel the effects of the drugged water, easing the stiffness and the pain and turning it into something altogether light and airy and far away. It was still THERE, hovering at the edge of her steps and the twists of her arms as she shrugged the long housecoat on, but it remained in the background and for the first time since she'd awoken in whatever existence this was, she found herself grateful.
"Feelin' a little better now, Sammy? You've had a rough couple of days, haven't you? Well, we'll get you some fresh air, some fresh fruit! Then you'll be feelin' as good as new. Especially once we get this medication thing figured out." Some sagely nods and a gently placed arm around her shoulder and they were off, Sam shuffling and Jesse leading the way to parts unknown. Though her body was slow it felt as though her mind were racing.
From what she could remember of their limited experiences with mind traps, they tended to leave you stranded in a specific area. Perhaps, were she of the ambitious nature, it might be possible to break free of whatever this was if she moved herself from where the central location seemed to be. In the end, she figured, anything was worth a shot. What was the worst that could happen, she silently asked herself as they eased out into the common room and past the other shufflers. Death, she supposed. Death. The end. She'd been throwing that thought around a lot lately. And wouldn't death be better than a mind trap? Or, if she were to be truthful with herself, wasn't death better than Lucifer?
"Here we are, Sam! See, sunlight. You always perk right up in that sunlight, hmm?" His laugh was the same, warm and husky and so full of genuine delight. "And it's not like we've had much of, right? I'm surprised we haven't even been washed away with all that rain…and it looks like more's on the horizon!" He pointed, bending just enough to make himself level with her, towards the sky in the distance where immense clouds, dark and rolling and ominous, awaited. He looked like a child, excited with the prospect and trying to drag her along with him. It had been one of the first things she'd noticed and one of the first things she'd fallen I love with when they first met.
It sickened her.
She remained silent, offering up a half-hearted nod and trailing along beside him as they wandered out beyond the shadow of the building and into a small courtyard, a large stone fountain serving as the centerpiece to an all-together peaceful looking clearing. A set of stone benches around the fountain completed the scene. Glancing off to the side, Sam could see that beyond the courtyard something like a flower garden opened up just outside. Sprawling green lawns and concrete paths seemed to lead around the grounds and, though Sam was limited in her range of view, she had a feeling they wrapped around the entire building. As did what looked like a large, barbed wire fence just barely visible from where she stood. Slowly a plan formed in her mind; it was rough, crude, not likely to succeed and yet it was the best she realized she was going to get. Time, it felt, was not on her side. The longer she lingered the worse things might get; Lucifer's impromptu visit only made that feeling more intense.
When Jesse made to sit on the benches, Sam pulled a sad, pained face and looked longingly out towards the lawns. His eyebrows drew up in a look of concern, lips parting as though he were going to say something.
"I don't…want to…sit. Yet. It might be…to hard to get…back up." Sam interrupted, just managing a half smile. Jesse's still parted lips formed an "o" of understanding and he pushed himself to his feet. With little more than his warning that her skin would be sensitive because of the medication and that they couldn't stay in the sun for long, the duo walked free of the courtyard. Sam began instantly steering him towards the left, eyes scanning the building as she walked, trying to determine if there was any way someone might see and stop her before she had a chance to escape. Judging, she believed, from the outside of the building anyone who saw would still have to take the same route they had to reach her and by that time she'd be long gone.
Jesse was still talking, rambling in a not so unpleasant way about random things. The weather, sports, cooking, a book he'd just picked up. Soothing, really, and it made what she was about to do all the worse. About halfway out the path they'd walked, when they had reached the point where the fence was about as close as she would get, body tense and ready for action, she froze on the path. Jesse continued another pace or two before turning around, eyebrows knitting together once more in a look of confusion.
"Sam? Hey, Sammy you okay? Aw I knew this would be too much sun for you. Come on, we'll just-" Before he could continue, before he could lay on any thicker that false care that he so clearly had pasteurized for her sake, she struck. Hands laced together to form something like a club, she slammed her fists into the base of Jesse's neck with as much strength she could muster. For approximately half a second Sam froze; he stood stock-still, swaying gently while Sam held her breath…and then he crumbled to the ground. His body was prone for perhaps another two seconds before she was off, racing as quickly as her still sore and aching body would allow her to, for the fence. The wind rushed against her face, cool and invigorating and a reminder of everything she stood to gain and loose. All of the possibilities rushed through her mind as she rushed across the field. In the distance it seemed the clouds were gaining ground, rolling through the sky and heading towards the facility with a speed that would have, under other circumstances, been shocking. A rumble, deep and imposing, was now audible to the Winchester's ears as she stumbled across the still damp lawn. And if that dampness, soaking into her slippers (both of which she shed as she grew closer to the fence), felt realistic enough to make her shudder, she pretended not to notice.
Sam hit the fence just as she heard some sort of alarm going off in the distance, clanging and whooping as her escape was finally spotted. Gritting her teeth she began to climb, only vaguely thankful that it did not electrify her when she touched it. Her fingers found easy purchase in the loops though reaching the top presented a problem. Along the top of the fence was a double row of painful looking barbed wire. Gritting her teeth she maneuvered the overcoat off and managed to wrap it around her right arm without falling. A feat, she believed, worthy of a Winchester and certainly something she would have to later relay to Dee who was under the belief that little Sammy was getting soft in the belly.
A chuckle and a grunt and Sam was over, pain lancing her arms through the coat. As she set her foot down on the other side of the fence her foot slipped loose and took her body with it. With a muffled gasp and cry she was on the ground with no time to check for any serious damage. Through even the painkiller she'd been given she could not ignore the sharp and steady pain pulsing through her legs and stinging in her arms. There was no time. Struggling to her feet, staggering through the returning pain, Sam bolted from the fence.
She made it almost fifteen feet before pain exploded behind her eyes. For the first time in years she screamed, wailing as she was sure that she was being torn apart. It was so intense, so unrelenting; it forced to her to the ground where, writhing in pain, she could do little more than gasp and hope that it would stop. As though her wishes were fuel for the pain it intensified, whiting out her vision and taking her consciousness with her.
OoOoOoOoO
"Hey, she's waking up."
"Is she? Well that was faster than I thought it would be…"
"Didn't Doctor Grino want to see her when she…?"
"Yes, yes. Let's rouse her, then."
Groggy. Sam was groggy. Groggy and confused and numb. Her mouth tasted wrong, her throat so dry it clicked when she tried to swallow. Her pain overall had somehow lessened, had ebbed as though she had been under for enough time for her wounds to begin healing. Trying to open her eyes was difficult but, with enough effort, accomplished. Thankfully the nurses or orderlies or whoever they'd been had left the lights dim, assuming correctly that her eyes would be sensitive to bright lights. She was not, however, surprised when they stepped into her view; Bobby and Jo, both looking frustrated but worried. She was, however, frustrated when Ruby slid into view. They murmured amongst each other, fanning out around her bed to surround her as she slowly but surely returned to the world of the living.
"Ahh, welcome back, Sammy!" Sam groaned and tried to tell them to stop calling her that but all she could manage was a strangled gurgling sound. Sam could not remember ever feeling so awful. What was worse than the pain, she thought, were the drugs. As she shifted on the bed she caught a brief whiff of alcohol then a familiar sting, a rush of ice through her veins and she was wondering how long it would take for it to hit her. Nausea rolled through her and she closed her eyes, fighting as the world spun around her.
"How much did you give her…?"
"Oh, you know, the regular dose." Even in this "world" Ruby was still a snarky bitch.
"…You realize she hasn't eaten or had anything to drink, beyond the IV, in almost two days?" Two days? She'd been out for far longer than she'd even imagined. Sullen silence in response to Bobby's question and Sam had to resist the urge to smirk as she was fairly certain that any sort of movement would cause her to explosively vomit the nothing in her belly. Ruby swore and Jo tutted and Bobby debated aloud the fact that yes, they HAD to move her because Doctor Grino would not wait much longer and he was a very busy man and yet the options on how to make this happen remained somewhat difficult. It was decided that they would use a wheelchair, move slowly, and simply explain what had happened once they'd arrived at his office. The fear that laced their voices in discussing this was not missed by the incapacitated Winchester.
"Just…Just get her some food for later, okay? We can't delay this any longer; he's going to be…upset." Murmured agreements all around and Sam could not help but roll her eyes beneath her lids.
"Come on now, Samantha. We've let you sleep long enough. Doctor Grino, you remember Doctor Grino, right? He wants to see you." Hands were at her back, shoulders and arms, lifting her into a sitting position amidst her groans and desire to be left alone. Sitting up brought with it the unsettling belief that she was sinking through the table and, despite her best efforts to sit up on her own, she found herself leaning against Bobby. Her amusement could not be denied; she was fascinated with the choice of personas to be found here. People who were, or who had been, important to her. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to see her sister or their angel here. She could only guess on the choice for the head physician.
Her contemplation was cut short as they began to move her, forcing her legs and arms and torso to move first off the table and then into a wheelchair which they had brought in for just this reason. Head lolling against her shoulders, Sam was unable to take in much of anything as they bustled around behind her. If she could at least force whatever these people were to stop pretending to be doctors perhaps things would start making a little more sense. And yet, it all seemed like too much work. She was tired despite the two days of apparent unconsciousness and fighting seemed pointless.
"Alright now, Sammy. Just a nice, short visit with Doctor Grino and you can rest, alright? We just need to make sure that you're…okay. Okay?" Sam once again said nothing; it was clear that her escape attempt had done little more than make her position, whatever it had been, here in this "ward" that much worse.
Though she wished she didn't care, she wondered how Jesse was. If he was upset with her for what she'd done. Sam managed, after some deliberate effort, to lift her head up, clenching and unclenching her hands and curling her toes in an effort to maintain some sort of grasp on herself. They rolled through the common room, masterfully steering to keep from upsetting the other shuffling invalids and, as Sam watched and listened, they began to migrate (aided by a few nurses whose faces she was unable to see from her disadvantageous position) towards the adjoining hallways and clearing the room. Likely, judging from the dimmed lighting and the quick glances of the darkened windows (outside of which there appeared to be flashes of light), it was lights out in crazy town. This untoward thought had Sam cracking a wide, frightening smile from her moving seat. Numerous twists and turns later and the quartet was headed down what seemed to be a corridor with rows of offices on either side. Once again that overwhelming feeling of déjà vu assaulted her; she was sure, now, that she'd been here before.
"Here we are…" Jo murmured, clearing her throat behind Sam. The door read "Doctor Nick Grino" and for a moment it seemed too impossible, too improbably, that it was who she thought it was behind it. Surely it was her father, Cas, maybe even her grandfather. Some relevant male influence in her life that she had yet to encounter. Bobby stepped forward, clearing his throat and knocking on the door. A muffled voice on the other side invited them in and, gripping the arms of the wheelchair as though she might fly away if she did not, she was led inside.
"No fuckin' way…" She slurred, baring her teeth in what was clearly a sneer.
"She's…a little out of it, sir. Seems we may have overestimated the correct dosage of tranquilizer. But! No worries, she'll be fine after a solid night of sleep. Do you want us to stay in case…?" Bobby was officially out of character; the sniveling, apologetic tone did not represent the man whose face he wore in a way that Sam felt was authentic.
"No, no. I think we'll be fine, won't we, Sammy?" Nods all around, it seemed, and with no more preamble than that, her trio of watchers was gone, shutting the door silently behind them.
"Fancy seein' you here…Lucifer."