Elixir

Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural, and I'm not making any money from this fic. I guess the plot of this story kind of belongs to me. Any character you don't recognise from the show, I probably own. Anything you recognise from another fandom, I don't own

Warning(s): Strong violence; spoilers; some swearing; Dean getting drunk; torture… Yep, full load here. Make no mistake – this chapter is incredibly dark. It's also possible that some things may not be entirely historically accurate – so don't take one of the scenes as fact. (You'll see which one I mean)

Author's Note: General thank you to everyone who's left a review, and even to those who have read, but not actually left a review. If you've left a signed review, I will have replied personally to it

After talking to Sam, Dean just sat behind the desk, tapping his fingers against the polished surface. He stared blankly at the far wall, feeling weary and like he just wanted to sleep. Not that he really could at the moment. He and his brother were working on a case, after all. A case that could easily end in Dean's death.

I should have made that deal with the demon… Then if anything happened to me, at least dad would be able to look after Sammy…

For a moment, Dean rested his head in his hands. Then, as Brownie gave a bark, he looked up.

Once again, another place seemed to overlay the room Dean was in. This time, it was outside – and Dean jerked to his feet as he glimpsed a face that was rather familiar, despite being transparent.

"Shit!"

Meg didn't try to attack Dean, though. He could just about make out what seemed to be Sam standing next to her – but that was impossible. Sam wasn't even around – he was still at the library.

But there was someone else, who Meg had hold of. As Dean watched – powerless – the demon raised something that glinted in her free hand. She then plunged it into the woman's throat, and let her go.

For an instant, Dean's eyes locked with the transparent Amber's. Then, the three figures vanished, and there was no evidence of them ever being there.

Dean stood up, shoving the chair back. As determined as he was to do something, he knew that he had to wait until Sam was back. "I really need a drink," the hunter muttered, as he stalked out of the study and back into the kitchen.

Sam couldn't help feeling slightly worried when he and Jody finally made their way back to Jody's apartment. He hadn't expected them to be quite that long, but Jody had found some things in the newspapers while he'd been on the phone, and they'd had to do some photocopying before being able to leave.

I really hope Dean's all right, Sam fretted. He really didn't sound very good on the phone. What could be wrong with him? He waited impatiently for Jody to unlock the front door, holding the photocopied papers with a frown. I knew we should have come back earlier…!

When Jody got the door open, Sam had to struggle not to just barge past her looking for his brother. Instead, he let the woman go through first, and then walked through, dumping the papers on the table before looking round. "Dean?!"

The other man stumbled out of the kitchen, swaying dangerously. He grabbed hold of the side of the wall for support, and stared blearily at his brother. "Oh, you're back finally, are you? Took your own sweet time getting here."

Sam frowned. "Dean, have you been drinking?" he asked.

"Just a little," Dean mumbled, slurring his words slightly. "You know… I saw something else," he continued, his eyes looking dull. "Did you know that Amber died once?"

"Huh?" Jody glanced between the brothers, frowning. "Sam… What's he talking about?" she asked, taking a slight step backwards. "Amber isn't dead… She's still alive!" She looked very close to hysteria.

"Jody… Calm down," Sam told the woman, keeping his eyes on Dean. It had been a while – but his mind moved for a moment to the events after Roosevelt Asylum, and how he had been told Dean had slipped into a parallel world. He must be starting to remember… I guess that's what he meant when we spoke on the phone. "Dean… Who killed Amber?" he asked, trying to work out just what was going on.

"Meg did. That bitch," Dean said hotly. "She slit Amber's throat… right in front of me! It would never have happened if I'd never gone there."

"Amber's not dead here, though," Sam pointed out, keeping his tone calm.

Dean shook his head slightly. "No, because it's not the same. She died. I couldn't do anything about it."

Sam frowned, feeling rather worried by the way his brother was acting. Even when he gets totally wasted, Dean always keeps his feelings buried really deep down. There must be something wrong with him.

"I'm just going… to check how much alcohol there is left," Jody said, clearly wanting to get out of the situation. She eyed Dean for a moment, and then quickly slipped past him – like a frightened animal – and into the kitchen.

"Come on, Dean." Sam stepped over to his brother and took his arm. "Let's get you up into bed now." He gently steered his brother towards the stairs, unable to help his growing feelings of worry and concern.

"Confess you're a witch."

The woman hung in the chains, her face bloodied and bruised. Dark hair which had long since lost its shine fell in a tangled mess down to her shoulders. The slim form which had tempted some was broken from the torture it had suffered.

Still, as the woman slowly raised her head to look her torturer in the eye, defiance showed clearly in her face.

"I will not. I am no witch."

Her answer had not changed, no matter what had been done to her. By confessing, she would save her own life. But still, the words would not leave her lips.

The torturer reached for one of the brands burning in the coals.

"This isn't necessary."

The torturer turned to the third person in the room, and couldn't help giving an annoyed frown. "I told you," he replied. "They're evil, tools of the devil in flesh that's pleasing to the eye. It's not like they're human."

"She looks human to me," the other man said, compassion sounding clearly in his tone. "At least give her a break, all right?"

"Maybe you're in league with Satan as well." The torturer narrowed his eyes at the man, who took a step back. The torturer smiled with pure, maniacal glee. "I've found another one." He hefted the brand as if it were a weapon.

The woman suddenly screamed, and contorted in the chains. She started muttering strange words, her eyes fixed – not on the torturer – but on the other man.

Instantly, the torturer changed his mind. "She's casting a spell on you!" He turned his attention back to the woman, and pressed the brand against her shoulder.

The sound and smell of burning flesh filled the dungeon. The other man turned his face away and was sick. Lifting his head again, his eyes met the woman's.

She'd made no sound as the torturer burned her. As the two stared into each other's eyes, though, a few tears slipped down the woman's cheeks.

And as the torturer continued his work, neither looked away.

Amber gasped with pain, and was unable to stop the tears flowing. Her hand had been smashed up, and although the doctor was bandaging it, even the slightest movement caused her complete agony.

"He did warn you," the doctor commented as she finished wrapping up Amber's hand. "Really, you brought this on yourself."

"Go to hell, you bitch," Amber muttered, twisting against the ropes with her free hand.

Another voice laughed. "Feisty little one, isn't she?" he asked. "I'm thinking we'll need to resort to more… extreme measures… for what we want from this little human."

Amber closed her eyes, no longer able to pay much attention to what was going on around her. Her hand hurt too much, and she was feeling so tired and sick. All she wanted was to go home, curl up in her nice warm bed, and sleep for perhaps a hundred years or so. But the pain in her hand was stopping her from being able to even faint, so she tried to focus on the conversation between her captors to take her mind off her hand as much as possible.

"I advise strongly against that," the doctor replied. "What you're suggesting is a procedure that can have disastrous results. You've seen what can happen – healthy subjects have lost their minds before. Not only have you woken memories in this one of her previous death, but she's also hurt, and possibly sick."

"Your job isn't to question my orders," the third voice said. "Your job is to keep her healthy enough until he arrives. You just start the procedure – we'll take care of the rest."

"No!" the doctor exclaimed. "I will not allow it!"

So now she has a conscience? Amber's teeth sank into her lower lip as a twinge of pain went through her hand. She didn't want to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing how much pain she was in.

There was the sound of a slap, and Amber's eyes flew open in time to see the doctor reel back, her hand clasped to her cheek – which suddenly seemed to be bleeding. She stared at the second man in shock and obvious disbelief. "What…! Why…?" She seemed unable to find the words.

Huh… I thought that being slapped doesn't cause bleeding… As that occurred to her, though, Amber caught sight of the man's eyes – which were glowing with a yellow light.

"Remember why you're here!" the man snapped. "You're completely expendable, and you're supposed to be following my orders – not trying to give advice. I don't care about what effect it'll have on her, so long as the end result is what I want. Do you understand?"

The doctor hesitated, and then walked over to Amber, taking out a case. She opened it, and took out a needle, then held it with the tip pointed up, and flicked the tube a couple of times. "I'll need one of you to find a vein," she said to the other two men. "Preferably in the arm that doesn't have a smashed hand."

The man that looked like Dean stepped up to Amber, and grabbed her other arm none too gently. Since she was still only wearing a bikini, he didn't have to roll up a sleeve. He traced a finger down her arm, and then tapped it lightly. "Here," he said to the doctor. "Need me to tie a tourniquet round it?"

"No, it should be fine," the doctor answered. "Just hold her still." She pressed the tip of the needle against Amber's arm, and then pressed the plunger, injecting whatever was in the needle into the woman's bloodstream.

Amber struggled, but she was nowhere near strong enough to break the man's grip. As the doctor took the needle away, Amber's vision grew blurry, and then she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness once more.