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I've stolen Sam and Dean and am currently holding them hostage from Kripke until … they hug.
I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one. It means the world!
Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!
Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.
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"So other than the fact that some whacko made a hospital shut its doors, nothing has happened in this town?"
"Well … not exactly … "
"What do you mean no … "
The rest was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone, and while most of the hunters helping them had Dean's number, it always caused his heart to still when the phone rang. Snatching it out of his pocket, he glanced at the Caller ID even as he snapped it open.
"Sammy?"
Both Bobby and Joshua straightened, their eyes boring into Dean, though their looks, for the moment, were completely ignored in lieu of his phone call.
"De…."
The voice at the other end was low, weak, and it scared Dean more than anything else in the world.
"Come on Sammy, talk to me!"
"I looked for you, Dean…."
"Sammy, where are you?"
"On the floor … bleeding …"
"Sam? Sammy, tell me where you are!"
"Dean?"
"Yeah, Sammy?"
"You're the bestest big brother ever."
"Yeah, Sammy, and I'll be even better if you tell…."
There was a scuffling sound in the background, some muffled words before a very distinct voice came through, though it wasn't directly into the phone.
"Say goodbye to your brother, Sam…"
The scream was almost immediate, and so loud that both Bobby and Joshua leapt to their feet. Dean clutched the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white from the effort.
"Sam? SAMMY?!"
But the line was dead. He didn't even need to hear the click to know that it had been disconnected.
"SONOFABITCH!"
His left fist came crashing down on the table, the phone still held as if it were some lifeline to Sam. Some means to physically touch his brother … and in a way, it was.
Joshua and Bobby both stared at Dean, speechless for the moment, not to mention at a loss as to what to do. They had never been witness, until now, to one of the torturous phone calls that Dean was receiving. It was both agonizing and maddening all at once.
Bobby, not the sort of man that resorted to anything resembling a 'Chick Flick' moment was the first to step forward, a hand resting on Dean's shoulder.
"We'll get him back, son…."
Dean turned his head, the look Bobby saw in his gaze all too easy to read. There was hate in the young man's green gaze. A hate so thick it was nearly palpable.
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"You know Gary, if you actually push the on button, that computer just might work better for you."
"Very funny, Winchester. Or should I say kid?"
"You could, but this kid just figured it all out."
With a smug look that the seventeen year old had to have learned from his older brother, Sam turned the computer screen a bit to show the elder hunter that Sam, in fact, had found just what they needed to know.
"Well, I'll be … you did it, Sam."
"Yeah, pretty good … for a kid."
Gary looked to the youngest Winchester and shook his head before looking back to the computer screen as Sam rose to gather the print out. In so many ways, Sam was a kid. He had this innocence that should not exist in a hunter's son, especially not John Winchester's son. But there was something else in the boy. Something that Gary couldn't pinpoint, but he was certain he wasn't the only one who saw it. It damned near glowed from the kid.
Gary sat at the red light, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he sat impatiently waiting for the light to change to green. He'd known John, Bobby, and Joshua for more years than he wanted to count (the gray hair proved how many) and knew the Winchester boys nearly as long. He'd met John through Bobby, and of course, eventually came the introduction of the next generation of hunters.
Just before he contemplated actually running the light, it changed, and his foot hit the gas, causing the car to pull a wheel as he took off down the main drag of this one horse town stuck somewhere in the middle of a big bunch of nothing.
But there was more than just nothing.
It caused Gary to press the gad pedal down further, exceeding the speed limit more than most would dare in such a small town, but Gary wasn't most; he was a hunter. Hunter's just didn't seem to think about such trivial consequences as a ticket they would never pay in a town they probably wouldn't come back to … at least under the same alias.
Slowing only to pull into the parking lot of the local run down motel, also known as the Find Sam Headquarters, Gary pulled to a stop next to the rusted truck, gathered his papers, and then hurried to the door.
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Allen did as the doctor instructed, he sat in a chair, watching the sleeping man, and waiting for him to stir. Oh but he did more than obey an order, he studied his prey, calculated just where and when to cause the most pain … just what would cause the biggest scream. He loved that, it was like a musical symphony to sadistic ears.
Last night had been no different; he'd certainly gotten a yell out of the man when he'd slammed his already broken wrist to the ground, re-breaking it. But, it wasn't exactly what he wanted. He wanted him to beg, to plead, to cry and profess anything just for the pain to stop.
Sam Winchester refused to give him what he wanted.
Sitting there, he glared at the young man, his look of hate useless since he was out cold. Allen would fix that though. He'd make damn sure he had Sam begging … crying. He was going to have this Winchester kid praying to a new God.
Allen liked the title of Deity.
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"Dean, I'm telling you, if it's the last thing we do, we'll get this sonofabitch."
Joshua stood strong, his side already chosen a long time ago when he'd first met the Winchester's, a side he wasn't going to change, at least not in this lifetime. But still, he stood between Dean and the door.
"Get out of my way, Joshua."
Bobby stood behind the eldest Winchester, his gaze on Joshua, but his hand on Dean's shoulder as a means to instill some sort of calm in a situation that was way passed spinning out of control.
"I'm telling you Dean, we need …."
Three pairs of eyes turned as Gary opened the door to their room, all three boring into him for different reasons. Dean's hand had already been at the ready on his gun, just itching to blow something away. Bobby breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that the newest entrant could talk some sense into the angry, scared, and frustrated Winchester. Joshua, however, prayed that Gary's research had paid off, that he found something they could use.
Apparently God favored Joshua.
"Damn, judging by the welcome I'm getting, you wouldn't think that I just found out who has controlling interest in Nemesis."
A pin dropping would have rang out loud and clear in that moment as everything stopped. Dean's itchy fingers stilled on the butt of his gun, Bobby's hand paused in a grip of Dean's shoulder, and Joshua would have later swore that he'd died for a minute there; he certainly hadn't been breathing and that his heart had definitely stopped.
Then with a slam of reality, time sped back up with the motion of Gary's smile. He had no idea what went on behind closed doors only moments ago. All he knew was he'd gotten an entrance … a grand entrance at that.
"Well … "
Three voices came at once; Bobby's was anxious, Joshua's was impatient, and Dean's said that Gary had exactly 2.3 seconds before he was killed by Dean's itchy trigger finger.
"It seems Nemesis is owned by a Doctor Daniel Murdoch."
When there was no response from the three men, Gary sighed and continued.
"The same doctor that was seeking the fountain of youth, and would do anything, and probably did, to get it."
"I know that name from somewhere…"
Joshua looked to Dean to fill in the details, but when he didn't, he turned back to Gary. Bobby gave Dean's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before moving to the table, the brain of their operation, and dropped into a chair.
"He was a prominent citizen of the area, that is, until he got caught with his hand in everyone else's cookies."
Moving to the table, he dropped all the printouts he'd made, and then lowered into a seat.
"Seems odd that the only thing that has happened in the area has been some fucked up doctor trying to off his patients to learn the path to immortality."
"Well, that's not entirely true."
"What do you mean?"
"About fifty miles south of here there was one angry, pissed off spirit."
"What?"
Dean spun, his gaze immediately going to Bobby for explanation.
"That's what we were trying to tell you son, there had been a spirit killing people and all the signs of a Winchester hunt."
"So dad, Sammy, and I did a salt and burn, then some crazy doctor…."
"Actually, the crazy doctor was first, and Sam wasn't here. This was in 2003 I think."
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Consciousness was like a double-edged sword; it brought with it the light … but with the light came pain. Before Sam was even aware he was waking, he was aware of the pain. It was distant and hazy at first, like something far off on the horizon, a song not quite understood. He could hear the melody, hum it even … but the words were elusive.
Then the drums set it. Slowly at first, but the crescendo built to an unforgiving tone of noxious pressure that made his ears want to cave in and collapse on his brain. And once the singer worked up the nerve to finally utter a tune, it was like a Wendigo had taken up a duet with a Banshee and they decided to blare out some country tune that hadn't quite made it up to this century.
All they needed now was a banjo and the Apocalypse would have set in within his brain.
At that moment, as awareness started to drift into the blackness of his brain, Sam would have given anything to hear AC/DC blaring out of the speakers as Dean sang along off-key while his head rested against the passenger window of the Impala. It didn't matter where they were; they'd been just about anywhere. It just mattered that he was with Dean, and not here.
"Welcome to the real world, Sam."
Sam uttered a groan and pressed his face against his arm. He didn't want to face the real world; he wanted to fall back into a dream where Dean's hand was at his back. "It's okay, Sammy, I've got this one."
"Think you're going to survive this one, do you, Sam?"
John Winchester raised no fools in his family. Despite the fact that the Winchester's were prepared for life in a cruel world, Sam knew that one of these days their luck would run out. He wasn't so sure his hadn't on that Sasquach hunt. In fact, hope was slowly fading to the fact that he might be found in time. Regardless, he lifted his head, the weariness in his eyes hidden by a façade of sarcasm and cockiness borrowed straight from the archives of Dean Winchester.
"I'll live to salt and burn your ass."
The curl of his lips was short-lived as one hand grabbed his throat, the strength of that grip jerking Sam upright as he gasped for air.
"You sorry bastard, you think you are better than me?"
Sam's face changed from that pale shade of barely alive to bright red in an instant. His hands, once lax, had come up to swat at the man's face, one balling despite the pain in his wrist to swing at the man cutting off his supply of oxygen.
"Oh you think you're better than everyone. Refuse to give the doctor respect. Well, you'll respect this, won't you?"
Growing weaker, he gave up his fight against the man himself and batted at the hands that held his air in their grip. His strangled gasps grew quieter and his coloring went from red to purple.
"Let me tell you something, you cocky son of a bitch, I'll have you begging me for life, pleading with me for death. Do you hear me?!"
His leg kicked out in an effort to get away from the grip, his hands grappling desperately before falling to his sides. With one last rise of his chest, that too went still as a blue tinge tainted his lips.
"Allen?!"
The venom in Allen's eyes dissipated as his head jerked to the sound of Doctor Murdoch's sharp tone.
"What are you doing?!"
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Mail alerts are down, but I have been trying to get my reviews from my story stats. But, if I have missed anyone, it wasn't intentional! Thanks all, your reviews mean so much!
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