Where to Run
Chapter Two
When he woke up again he was face down on a cement floor. His wrists where tied together in front of him, and there where cufs on his ankles. Crude ruins where etched on them and he realized that these where demon bindings.
Which meant he would have to really work at it to break them. If he even could. It would also depend on what they where made of and if he had the strength to muscle the cuffs themselves apart.
He got to his knees and glanced around – he was in a bare room that had one door. He was entrapped in a devil's trap that spanned a good portion of the floor. He cursed colorfully at himself for letting someone – or something – get the jump on him.
Just as he was pondering how he would escape this one, the door swung open. Sam glanced up. It took him a moment but he eventually recognized the now-cold eyes of an old hunting buddy of his dads.
The pure hatred he saw in those eyes cut off all hope of these guys letting him go. Or even reasoning with them.
"Your daddy would be disgusted with you, boy." The man, Nathan, spat. The two others followed him into the room silently. One Sam recognized – he'd met him once – but the other was new.
"Now Nathan, that's no longer Sam in there. Remember?" Oh he was so screwed. Sam didn't bother to answer them, or respond to their words. "He's gone too far - and for that he will pay. Nobody disrespects John Winchester like this. I mean, possessing and anchoring to his kid!"
Sam didn't bother to correct the guy – if they wanted to think he was possessed and that the demon had anchored itself to him, who was he to burst their bubble? Besides, if they knew the truth then he's be double screwed.
"Then let's get to work." The third guy said. Sam didn't recognize him.
And then the torture began.
First came the holy water. They had very sophisticated super soakers loaded with the stuff, and they took turns open firing on him. He wondered where they managed to get so much of the stuff as he curled into a ball as the stuff burnt his skin. Oh, right, if you knew the right incantation you could make it yourself out of tap water.
It wasn't near as bad as it could be, as it would be for any full demon, but damn it still hurt. Burnt. Especially when it got in his eyes, or mouth. It was like getting a facefull of scalding water.
They tired with the holy water, eventually, when it became clear it wouldn't do too much else. They disappeared for a while, taking the super soakers with them, and returned with salt. Handfuls of salt that was thrown at him. His face was the main target, and more than once they got lucky and managed to get it in his eyes or mouth.
But it wasn't as effective as the holy water and they tired of it even quicker. They seemed disappointed. Sam sure wasn't as he shook the stuff out of his hair and clothes the best he could.
They retreated for a while and left him to his own devices. At some point a light turned on and Sam frowned at it, wondering what it was. Didn't take long to figure out that it was a heat lamp. Twenty minutes and an increase of 30 degrees later he was dry. Parched. Another ten minutes and his skin was feeling crispy and he was sweating.
He passed out from the heat. When he woke up again he was strapped to a metal table. They stood around him in a circle, knives in hand. There where no words exchanged as they began to cut him. Small cuts, littered everywhere, stinging and burning. The kinves had to have been dipped in holy water or salt.
They ended the session and poured holy water on the wounds. Rubbed salt in them after, too. When they came back they burned him with a hot poker and used a cattle prod of some sort to send his body dancing as they touched it to the table.
He lost track of time and, after awhile, he stopped reacting to their taunts and tortures. They disappeared for a while and returned with a bunch of tubing and a long pole. He watched with deadened eyes as they hung a bag on the pole and sorted the tubes.
Eventually they pulled out a few needles and Sam closed his eyes as they where inserted in each arm and each leg. It wasn't long before they started to burn and he opened his eyes to see the guys watching him. He shifted a bit as the burn spread. And spread.
But he clenched his teeth and ignored it, for the most part.
When that didn't give them what they wanted, they pulled out the other tube. It was thicker, and it didn't look like an IV line. When one of the men positioned himself at Sam's head and took a firm hold of it, Sam realized what the tube was. He put up a weak, half-hearted struggle but eventually surrendered to the inevitable as the one guy shoved it up his nose.
After his insides where flooded with holy and salted water, Sam allowed himself to drift into a daze where he was able to escape the pain raking through his body. Nothing could touch him there – not the physical pain, not the mental anguish. He didn't have to deal with anything at all.
The next time he regained conciousness he was no longer attached to the table. He was back on the floor, wrists manacled. Everything was quiet. His body was numb. Or maybe he was just still disconnected with it. Either way, he didn't feel anything and for that he supposed he was grateful.
He drifted off because there was nothing else to do, snapping back to reality when his entire body seized and knocked him out again. Some time later he woke up in a strange daze and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he eyed a figure in the far corner.
A part of him thought he should know this figure. It was familiar. But he couldn't wrap his brain around it even as it stepped closer. It squatted down in front of him and reached out. Sam shrunk back, weakly, and the figure withdrew.
"You don't have much time." It spoke. The voice was also familiar. His body seized again and the figure disappeared.
Only to be replaced with the three men from before. Sam instantly closed his eyes and was once again in that place where pain couldn't reach.
TBC