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I tried making a deal with a demon, swearing that I'd do anything (anything) if she gave me Sam and Dean. I woke up three days later smelling like cigarettes, stale beer, and burned flesh as Bobby just acted like nothing have ever happened.
I just wanted to mention that a couple of people have thought that the hospital name (Sunnydale) was taken from Buffy. In all honesty, I've never watched Buffy (as the thought of anything to do with Luke Perry was enough to make me gag even though the show didn't have him in it) or even saw a preview. So, alas, the name was pulled from my head (or my ass, lol).
Alerts are back up!! For any that didn't get a reply to a review, I thought that I replied to all of them, but, if I happened to miss yours, it was purely accidental! All of your reviews mean so much; I do appreciate you taking the time to let me know what you think. So, without further ado … Chapter 12!
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"You sick son of a bitch! You killed her!"
Doctor Murdoch pressed the gun further against flesh that was now coated in a sheen of sweat, though whether it was from pain, fear, or both wasn't clear.
"No, you killed her, and I'm going to kill him!"
Dean took one step forward, his mouth forming the word that was drowned out as a deafening gunshot echoed throughout the room.
"Nooooooo!"
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Joshua climbed from the window, landing on the ground with a soft sound that only those with the keenest sense of hearing would have heard. Without gathering his balance, he took off, righting himself up as he went. Moving around the side of the hospital, he nearly ran right into Bobby … both hunters immediately lifting their guns to aim at the other.
"Damn it, I almost shot you!" Both men yelled at once.
"Did you find anything?" Again their voices rang in unison. Shaking his head, Joshua held up a hand to still Bobby's words, which, knowing their record so far would be just what Joshua had to say.
"I found a chained door and then some idiot who thought he could get the drop on me."
Bobby nodded, about to say something when a rustle (albeit slight) drew both their attention. Turning as one, guns raised and ready, they only paused as the face of their would be target came into view.
"Damn it Gary, I almost shot you!" Again Bobby and Joshua seemed to share one brain as they lowered their weapons to a surprised Gary.
"Find anything?"
Both Bobby and Joshua gave each other the patented Winchester look (apparently on loaner for the day) before looking back to Gary. Opening his mouth to speak, if words did actually come out, they were drowned out by the lone gun shot that reverberated throughout the hospital grounds.
"Shit!"
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The sound echoed as he fell, though in all honesty, he didn't have far to go. The demented doctor had been squatting when he jerked him up, so as the blast resounded through the small room, Sam slipped from his grasp and keeled backward.
But there was no pain. Maybe that meant he was already dead. Maybe the plan had been fulfilled. He thought on this for but a split second, his head nearly hitting the floor in that downward plunge that was so surreal Sam expected to wake up any minute.
Only he didn't wake up … he was hoisted up to his feet, the pain that went through his thigh at the sudden motion causing a grunt around the gag.
"Stop right there, Winchester!"
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"How dare you!"
Dr. Murdoch checked
Sam Winchester's pulse again before standing to face Allen, his
fury quite evident on his face. Allen, for all his anger that
seethed out of every pore, just stared and said nothing.
"You know the plan, Allen, and you damn near ruined it!"
"He … attacked me!"
Dr. Murdoch looked to the unconscious prisoner, the pawn in all of this, then back to Allen.
"Just remember who's in charge here, Allen. I could make or break you; it'd be good if you remembered that!"
Allen stood a moment, his fists clenching and relaxing, the hate that seeped from him nearly tangible enough to touch, to smell, to taste, and to feel. It could definitely be seen.
"You can leave now, Allen. Right now I can't stand to look at you."
Dr. Murdoch didn't even look up, he just went back to tending to that … bastard.
As soon as Daniel Murdoch had gone to Sam, his gun used in a loving declaration, Allen had followed the plan and stepped out of sight into the only hiding place in the hospital room … the bathroom.
It was there he waited. He had plenty of patience in this game of cat and mouse. After all, he was above the cat … he was the dog. Or God, depending on which way you spelled it.
He even held his position as the elder Winchester interrupted the doctor's seemingly caring confession. It was mildly amusing, Dean and Dr. Murdoch battling for control of the situation. How little they both realized that neither one was winning this battle. Oh, but they would learn … he would make sure of that.
And he did.
Just as Dr. Murdoch had reached the end where he was to show Dean Winchester the God-awful truth of the pain of loss, just as the man who had been his mentor was about to pull the trigger, Allen beat him to it. The sound barely made the gunshot known before Allen stepped forward, a hand hoisting Sam up to stand where he wrapped one arm around his throat and aimed his smoking gun at his head.
"Stop right there, Winchester!"
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"Nooo!"
Dean moved forward, every instinct telling him to jump in front of that bullet (as if he could have ever been fast enough) to stop his brother from falling. But despite his movements, Sam was falling. Sam was dying.
Sam was suddenly up with a burly arm around his throat.
"Stop right there, Winchester!"
Dean froze as another gun was pointed at his brother (What was it with Sam attracting lunatics anyway?) and lifted his own weapon to aim at the man holding Sam.
"You're not gonna make it out of here alive."
"Oh that's where you're wrong, Dean, you see, I have the one thing that holds all the cards."
"Oh yeah, and what's that?"
"I have Sam."
Dean's gaze shifted to Sam. The sheen of sweat that had been on his brow was now pasting shaggy locks to his forehead, the look of pain intensified as he tried shifting his weight to one leg.
A movement drew his gaze back to the man holding Sam, his hand drawing Dean's attention as he jerked the gag that had stilled Sam's voice down.
"Say good bye to your brother, Sam."
Allen made a move toward the door; Sam forced to move as the stronghold around his throat held him in a grip that made breathing a chore. Dean knew (just knew) if he let the madman (and just when did this second, more demented man come into the picture?) out of here with his brother, he wasn't going to see him again, so he stepped to the side, blocking his exit.
"You're not leaving here, not with Sam."
Allen, just for a show, tightened his grip around Sam's throat, causing a gasp from the youngest Winchester. With his arms bound, he couldn't even try and tug him off, so Sam struggled to stay upright, though his left leg wasn't fully cooperating with the right. It nearly buckled from under him, causing Allen's hold to tighten all the more. Sam's face went from pale, to red, to purple in a matter of seconds.
It was precious seconds that Sam didn't have.
"Let him go!"
The bravado had, however, left Dean Winchester's voice as he watched Sam slowly stop struggling, the look on Allen's face enough to make his blood boil to sizzle steam from his ears. To say Dean wanted to watch the man die was an understatement.
He wanted him to suffer in every way imaginable.
"Once I'm free…"
Allen had no intention of ever letting Sam Winchester go. In fact, he had no intention of letting Dean get off without fulfilling the doctor's plans. Doctor Murdoch might be dead, but Allen was still going to make Dean watch his brother die. Only, it wasn't going to be one quick shot to the head. He was going to make Sam scream.
Dean, seeing his brother lose that red hue for something more in the blue range of the rainbow, growled as he lowered his weapon.
"Fine, but I swear to God, if you so much as harm a hair on my brother's head…"
"It's a little late for that Dean Winchester…"
Allen's smile turned into a sneer as he started backward for the door, Sam kept between himself and the elder Winchester.
"You see Dean, every bruise…" And he jerked backward on Sam's wrist, not only jarring the broken bone there, but also aggravating his shoulder.
The reaction couldn't have been more perfect as Sam let out a yell in pain. Dean, true to form, started to move forward, only to have Allen tightening his hold on both his throat (causing Sam's face once again to mimic a rainbow) and his wrist.
"Now, now Dean, let's not have Sammy get to hell before his time, eh?"
"You first you sonofabitch…"
Allen, so cocky in his escape, in his plan to watch Sam Winchester suffer inexplicable pains in front of his brother (just to take that pride he'd held desperately onto) never heard the footsteps come from the door he was backing toward, he never knew Joshua was there until his voice cut through the deranged inner machinations that involved pain and suffering at his hands.
The shot that rang out in the once pristine room that had once housed some of the most brilliant (and demented) doctors in all of Tennessee, was answered in turn by a second shot just seconds after the first.
The yells that no doubt put the breaking of the sound barrier to shame went on deaf ears as Sam Winchester fell in a heap that Allen's arm dragged him down in.
"Damn it, Joshua…"
The room was stifling, the heat suddenly making breathing difficult at best.
"Where's he hit?"
Black dots clouded his vision, the colors around him swimming to form one blurry image before dissipating into that abyss that takes away the pain, that takes away everything until there is nothing left.
"Dean……………"
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I have to say that this chapter was the second one in this story that was a pain to write. I knew what I wanted, in fact, had it pretty much mapped out … it was getting it from head to type that was the challenge. Sometimes I swear my fingers are dyslexic, so, if the chapter sucks, blame the left hand! LOL!
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