Evil procrastination is evil =3= I sowwy for the wait QwQ And a HAPPY BDAY to Jensen Ackles! X3333 Can't believe he's 34 already =O He and his wife, Danneel are in Balize X3
I hope they're enjoying the sunshine and warm weather while the rest of us experience the oddest weather I've ever known :P
I mean...61 degrees in the middle of February? Did someone summoned Hold Nickar or something? Quick! Someone warn the Winchesters! D8
This takes place between the season 1 eps "Scarecrow" and "Faith"
Supernatural: Eric Kripke! :D
Dean had an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as he, once again, found himself bound to a chair. His wrists were tied together behind his back with some sort of odd, pulsating magenta energy. His ankles were bound to the chair legs with the same energy. This bitch was smart. The bindings gave him a sharp jolt of pain that felt like him sticking his finger in a wall socket each time he struggled to free himself. And the harder he struggled, the more intense the pain felt.
He had learned that lesson the hard way just ten minutes ago. His wrists and arms felt tingly and he could feel his hair sticking up on their ends. The shocks also made him feel exhausted since he had also tried so hard not to cry out and satisfy the sick bitch's pleasure of causing him pain. But now, he wasn't sure if he could keep up the bravado any longer. The fact that he couldn't see or hear the witch sneering or cackling at him as he suffered was bad enough without him encouraging her. So he decided to play the good little captive for now…..at least until he regained enough energy to try it again.
Dean knew his pain threshold was high and had theorized that if he concentrated hard enough and gave it his all, he could break free of the magical bonds, possibly kill the witch himself, then get back to his family, whom of which he knew were going crazy with worry by now, especially Sammy. Of course, the plan of his would be a lot easier and less complicated if he wasn't freaking blind and deaf. Plus he was only 90% sure that this plan would even work out.
Dean growled at his handicaps and yanked ruthlessly at his bindings again, this time, crying out as the sharp jolt now became a tazer, causing his muscles to spaz like crazy and twitch after he slumped down into the chair as far as he could go. Dean's breaths came out shaky and harsh as sweat began to trickle out from his pores, coating his face and neck in a shiny, glistening coat. He felt blood drip from his nose, tasting the bitter, coppery liquid as it seeped through his parted lips.
"I….bet you're….really beginning to….get a kick out of….this." Dean panted, sensing that the bitch was somewhere nearby. He licked his dry lips with a tongue that was already beginning to feel like sandpaper. He desperately wanted some water, but he knew better than to ask his hostess. Dean didn't want to risk adding poison to the list of unpleasant tortures the witch possibly had at ready, though he wouldn't put it past her to already have added it. His head was still killing him from whatever the witch had used to knock him out with. Dean worried that his head may explode from the extreme pressure building up in it, causing him to wince.
"Oh," a sinister, soft voice hissed inside his brain, startling him. "You have no idea, hunter."
Dean groaned. "Oh great. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, now I'm beginning to hear voices in my head." He then froze. That was the witch's voice he was hearing! He groaned again, this time in utter despair. "Sonovabitch! You've got to be kidding me!"
"Best mind your tone with me, hunter," the witch snarled. Dean's brain then felt like someone taking a defibrillator to it.
Dean yelled, sure enough that his voice was loud enough to reverberate off the stone walls of the cellar he was sure he was in, according to the rank, musty smell and the coldness, similar to last time. The pain subsided and Dean bowed forward, gasping in unbearable agony.
"Not so tough now without what makes you such a great hunter, huh?" the witch taunted. "Such a shame Daddy Dearest foolishly messed around with something he shouldn't have. My sister was brilliant putting you in a weaker form first with that little concoction of hers.
The spell your father had found in one of the spellbooks he had stolen from my sister's library was an Equivalent Exchange spell, if you will. In payment for returning your body back to normal, something had to be given up, such as your eyesight and hearing. I shouldn't be amazed, though, by what my sister did. She had learned from the best, after all."
Dean scoffed. "You must be so proud. I bet she would have made a fine green-faced, warty hag."
Bad choice of words, Dean realized, as the searing pain sliced through his brain again. He managed to hold back the scream this time and just groaned and tensed his muscles.
"You seem to have a real bad habit of antagonizing your enemies, Dean-O. Maybe I should cut out your tongue too. It'd complete the set, wouldn't you agree? I mean, blind, deaf, and mute? How fun will that be? I'm sure Sammy will love that."
"Shut up!" Dean grated through harsh wheezes. "Don't call him that!"
"You're in no position to tell me what to do, you bastard. Once I'm through with you, I'll go after your precious baby brother and rip out his lungs."
"You lay one finger on him, and…."
"Go ahead and threaten me, Dean!" the witch growled, sending another jolt of pain through Dean's cranium. "But there's nothing you can do to stop me! Your brother deserves to die for murdering my baby sister." The last two words were said in a sorrowful whisper, Dean almost didn't hear them.
His heart clenched. She was just avenging the death of her younger sibling. In a way, that reminded Dean if himself and how he'd basically do the same thing to anyone who had dared hurt his little brother. A thought then occurred to him.
"May I ask you something?" Dean asked.
"What," the witch's response was bitter.
"Why go after me and not Sam? I mean, like you said, he was the one who had killed your sister."
Of course, Dean was glad that the witch had decided to target him and not Sam for the fact that his ailments would prevent him from even attempting a rescue. Plus, he really didn't want to imagine his brother going through all the pain and torture his was enduring. He was the tough one, and he knew he'd be able to hold out for awhile, but Sam wouldn't. Sam couldn't. Sam would break, and Dean wouldn't know how to fix him if he did.
It was silent for awhile. Well, to Dean, that was a bit of an understatement. But the witch hadn't spoken to him for so long, the hunter was sure he had hit a nerve and she was preparing her next torture. So when she did speak, Dean felt his blood run cold at her icy tone.
"I thought you were smart, Dean." Dean was so tempted at responding that she had the wrong brother, but he didn't want to make her even madder than he had already made her. "What I'm doing is making your precious Sammy suffer. I had to carry my sister's body out to give her a proper burial.
"You don't know how hard that is, having to feel the coldness of your dead sibling's skin and wishing that they'd move, that they'd breathe, but knowing that they wouldn't be able to anymore. Oh, believe me when I say that, when I saw you and your brother flee from here, I wanted to skin you bastards alive. But I held back when I learned that my sister's last spell had incapacitated you for a while."
"Oh yeah, I loved being a munchkin for four months." Dean grumbled sarcastically. He recalled Sam telling him all about what had happened during that time, and he was rather embarrassed having to been the one to be looked after by his younger brother this time.
"Yes. I must admit you were a pretty admirable little brat," the witch agreed. "And following you around let me know a bit more about how your family worked. How the infamous Winchesters are always willing to put themselves in the line of fire to save each other, even from one another. I was really impressed with how even Sammy stood up to his own father to defend big brother. I got a bit misty eyed."
"Save it for Hallmark," Dean smirked. He gasped as another wave of pain lanced through, not his head this time, but his chest, his heart to be exact. He could feel a constricting pressure grasp it, squeezing it so hard he was sure it'd pop like a water balloon. Then, the pain relinquished as quickly as it had come, leaving him gasping for air.
"Careful with your word choice, hunter, or next time I will crush your lungs."
"Got it," Dean moaned, squeezing his eyes shut to ride out the residual ache that throbbed through his chest. "Smart mouthing the bad guy, bad, shutting up, good."
"The thought of cutting out your tongue is still a relish idea, Dean. So I'd be careful of what you'd say from now on. Anyways," the witch sighed, "I'm doing this to hurt Sam, not you. I want him to know how it feels to have someone close to him ripped away from his life forever. I'm sure he's never felt the same way I have."
"A bit late there, sister," Dean thought solemnly, remembering how broken up and dismayed Sam was the night he had lost his girlfriend Jessica.
"Ooooh, so little Sammyhas felt that kind of suffering before."The witch's voice was dripping with sickening pleasure.
"What? How did…." Dean was disbelieved.
"I'm in your mind, you idiot. I can see and hear every single thought and idea running through your pea-sized brain. And yes, I bet you didn't like the notion of being cared for by you baby brother. It's against the Big Brother Code, is it not?"
"You bitch, get out of my head!" Dean snarled. "I'm getting real tired of having to listen to you gloat and sob your heart out to me! And as for your sister, she deserved to die, just as much as you do! You do nothing but go around killing people for pleasure! And it's my job as a hunter to stop you!"
An amalgam of various forms of pain flashed through his body, insinuating just how ticked off Dean had just made the witch. His screams were so loud and long, he felt his throat begin to hurt from the abuse. A white hot burning sensation flooded his skull as jolts of electrical-like energy traveled from his bound wrists, up his arms, and through his torso, causing his heart to begin beating so erratically, he was afraid it would give out any second. His legs felt like hot pokers being gouged through them (and he knew what hot pokers felt like after his own personal run-in with the Bender family a few months back).
His back arched and his muscles spazzed until he suddenly slunk down in his chair, all his remaining energy sapped from all the anguish he had just went through. His breaths came out in ragged gasps. He felt like he couldn't move a muscle, which he couldn't anyways. Dean heard the witch voice hiss to him in ominous voice that was fading along with his consciousness.
"I'll be back later, hunter. You better learn some manners until then."
Dean then blacked out.
TBC...