It was definitely cooler in his cell than it had been in the room before Dean's world had gone black. His hands were shackled over his head and he was pressed up against a damp cement wall that was cold enough to make him wish Sam had returned to the room before Holly had attacked.
He gazed around the cell, concrete with a barred door. He tugged on his restraints and found that they didn't budge. Odd, considering his earlier show of strength in the same dungeon.
The cell door creaked slowly open and Dean found himself staring into Holly's cold green eyes. She smiled warmly at him as she walked up and traced a finger down his chest to his belly button. "Good to see you're up, sweetie," she cooed.
"You played me," Dean hissed, "you tricked me."
Holly chuckled. "Wasn't that hard, fly boy. Did you really think Father would let something as useful as me slip past? I was one of his first recruits, along with Jimmy and Claire. Jimmy was a telepath, had actually been reading you throughout that poor girl's funeral the other day. He's also the one you killed yesterday when you pulled that annoyingly heroic stunt. Claire's our resident healer. Needless to say, you'll be seeing a lot of her."
"Is that some kind of threat?" Dean asked, trying to come up with a plan to get him out of the mess and hoping that they hadn't gotten Sam, too.
"As a matter of fact, it isn't. See, we can't kill you. Claire's just not strong enough to bring the dead back to life. She is, however, powerful enough to heal someone who's just been tortured within an inch of his life."
"So you'll just keep hurting me? Won't that get old?"
Holly shook her head. "No. See, we need you alive to get Sammy to join us. Right now, you're our leverage."
The angel sighed. Well, that answered the question of whether or not Sam was safe. Now the only thing to worry about was the impending torture. "Not much leverage unless you threaten my life."
"Oh, this is going to be very life-threatening."
"What are you going to do?" Dean asked, "whip me? Hate to break it to you, Hols, but that won't work. At least, it didn't when your mind-reader tried it. Sam's fine, and he's nowhere near as resilient as I am."
Holly's smile faded as her brow creased. "Well, I'll just have to step it up a notch."
Dean nodded. "Right. Your boy Jimmy must've been pretty weak if you can top him."
The firestarter scowled and Dean realized he'd struck a cord. Any other time, it would have been a signal to back off, but considering the circumstances, the hunter decided to continue his ribbing, just to get a little more time to think. He needed to get her to attack him, mortally wound him. If Holly thought he was dead, he could work on breaking out of the cell and saving his brother again. If nothing else, the human flamethrower might just inadvertently melt the shackles that bound him to the walls.
"You didn't know Jimmy like I did," Holly muttered.
"You're right, and I'm glad I didn't. Guy strikes me as kind of a sissy. Bet he didn't even get Sam to cry. Hell, Ronald McDonald can make Sammy bawl. Jimmy's not even as scary as a friggin clown! Oh, sorry, my mistake. He wasn't as scary."
"Shut up."
"Buh duh buh ba baa…"
"I told you to shut up!"
Dean was about to open his mouth and spout off another stupid reply when a wave of heat hit his body with so much force that it knocked the wind out of him. He felt his body beginning to burn before he even saw the fire leaping up around him. He tried to scream, but his voice was lost in the roar of the flames. Skin and hair began to char as the hunter's head dropped to the side and fire consumed his body.
It leapt out of her before she could hold it back. Holly stood in the cell and watched the angel burn, wondering briefly what it felt like, if he was thinking of his mother, and what she was going to do about the precog now that her only leverage was dead.
The fire alarm began to sound as smoke rose into the air from the angel's charred body. Other cult members raced into the basement prison to see what was happening. Holly felt someone pull her away from the large fire, heard someone yelling at her to stop it before she burnt the place to the ground.
She fell to her knees, surrounded by friends, and pulled it back. The fire stopped burning immediately. A few psychics headed out of the cell and went back up to their rooms, sickened by the smell of burnt flesh and hair that emanated from the angel.
"He… he said," Holly whispered, tears falling from her bright eyes and hitting the cold concrete floor, "Jimmy…."
"It's ok," the man holding her back muttered, stroking her hair as smoke drifted lazily over their heads, "it's over now. He's dead."
Holly nodded slowly. "The brother won't join us now. Not after this. We have no way…. I'm sorry. I ruined it."
The man sighed. "Father won't be pleased, Holly, but I'm sure he'll understand. Maybe he can persuade the precog, huh? Buck up. We'll get him."
Holly nodded again, standing shakily and turning back to her victim. His body had been blackened beyond recognition. His hair had been burnt completely off. The only part of his body that seemed to be untouched were those freakishly white wings, seeming to glow behind the dark, disfigured body of their owner.
"Bring in the brother to see him," Holly muttered, "he should see what we do when you cross us."
"Back to Plan A, huh?" her colleague asked.
The firestarter chuckled, turning and allowing him to help her out of the cell. They had reached the door when the coughing started. Both psychics turned to the hunter's body and were incredibly surprised to find him smiling at them with black, crumbling lips.
Holly took a tentative step toward him, reaching out a hand and dragging it slowly over his burnt chest. Large flakes of dark, dead skin peeled away under her hand and she pulled it back, disgusted. "You can't die, can you?" she asked slowly, looking up into Dean's eyes, shining brightly out of his blackened face.
"Disappointed?" he asked, voice raspy from smoke inhalation, skin falling from his charred lips as he spoke.
Holly grinned, taking a step back and looking her victim over. "Quite the contrary." She turned back to her partner, "go get Claire. We need to heal him before we continue with the plan." She turned on her heels and stalked out of the cell to get her old boyfriend's 'tools of persuasion.'
Dean shook his head and watched, disgusted, as large flakes of black skin fell to the ground around him. Had being burnt alive hurt? Like hell. In fact, as he had stood in the cell and been consumed by fire, he'd felt closer to his mother than he ever had before. There weren't strong enough words in the English language to describe that kind of pain and panic.
Even worse, he'd come back. To most people, that would have seemed like a good thing, but Dean was not in a resurrection mood at the moment, especially since his once-perfect body had been burnt to a literal crisp. Not good when it came to picking up chicks.
The cell door opened and a petite woman in a long robe walked in. She gasped loudly as she saw the kind of condition Dean was in.
"Hey," Dean grinned, hating the rasping quality of his voice.
"Hey," the woman replied, pulling off her hood and revealing bright blue eyes and raven hair, "Holly said I wouldn't believe this."
Dean nodded, watching more skin fall onto the floor. "Think you can help me?"
The psychic nodded. "Maybe. I'm Claire."
"I guessed."
"So," she began, walking slowly up and placing her hands gingerly on his chest, "immortal?"
"I'm assuming."
"You're lucky. This isn't the first time Holly's gone after someone's family to get them to join up. She threatened my step-mom and older sister to get me here. Knowing that they're still safe and alive is what keeps me here."
"There a reason you're telling me this?" Dean asked as she moved up to his face.
"I don't want Sam forced into this. Just because I'm a member doesn't mean I want to be. And I want to warn you. Holly's ruthless. She'll do whatever it takes. Just watch yourself."
"Will do," the hunter grinned as the healer moved on to his arms. He chanced a glance down at his stomach and breathed a sigh of relief. Fresh skin, not even a scar.
Claire stepped back, face red. "Um, I'm sorry," she muttered, "but I'm gonna have to get your legs. Holly gave me these for you when I'm done." She held out a pair of powder blue pajama pants.
Dean nodded, realizing that his pants had disintegrated with most of his skin and hair.
Holly walked back into the cell with a briefcase under her arm to find Dean still shackled to the wall, completely healed and wearing the pants she'd given Claire. The healer had already left, her job done. "You look good," she smiled, setting the case down and popping it open, "your hair's even back."
"Yep," Dean grinned, nodding as he watched Holly rifle through the case.
"Got it," the psychic grinned, pulling a long, silver knife out of the briefcase. She stood and stalked quietly up to the angel.
"What are you gonna do?" Dean asked, eyeing the long knife amusedly, "cut off my head?"
"No," Holly chuckled, watching the knife glint under the dim lights of the basement, "lower." She burst out laughing as the look on her victim's face changed from one of mild amusement to one of pure terror. Green eyes glinting maniacally, she lunged.
Sam found himself in a very familiar predicament. He was chained up in a cold dungeon. At least his restraints were looser this time. From somewhere off in the distance, probably down the corridor that lie just beyond his cell door, someone let out a pain-filled shriek that chilled Sammy to the bone. He knew that scream, even though he'd only heard it once or twice in his lifetime. Dean.