Pitch Black – chpt 3.
by: sifi
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"Look at me or I'll swing this at that handsome face, maybe take out one of those pretty green eyes," she admonished nodding as his eyes popped open, and his attention turned fully back to her. "That's better."
"Are you ever gonna tell me why you're doing this? Isn't it like... one of the bylaws in the villain's handbook or something?" his lips trembled, trying to turn upward, trying to be for himself what he would have been able to be for Sam or their father.
She smiled, almost gently with those scarlet lips of hers and moved to stand before him, her eyes the mirror to his own, God that's creepy... wonder if I'll ever be able to look myself in the mirror again... wonder if I'll live long enough to find out, her skin was porcelain bisque and her platinum colored hair framed her face in Shirley Temple curls, she looks like a doll...look Sam! s'one of the dolls, you know from the Pierpont? s'alive now... he loves to dress 'em up don't cha Sam? "Ssszzza..." his teeth clamped down on his tongue as his back twisted in a shiver drawing a deeper smile from his tormentor.
"What was that? Were you talking to someone?" she asked.
"Ssza 'lil chilly down here... can't seem to remember where I left my jacket... musta been a helluva party..." he chattered from under the fuzzy blanket of fever that cocooned him.
"Mmm," she nodded, "It IS a bit chilly down here... I could light a fire..."
"Nohn't go t'trouble on my account... I'm not staying too long..." he smirked.
"Hmmm," she smiled skimming the carefully held barbed wire pieces across his stomach.
Shake it off Dean, keep it together man! I guess it WAS a barbed wire cat-o-nine tails she was making after all. Heh, sick bitch, he closed his eyes, pressing his head against the cool moist stone, every sensation but the low constant hum of fear at rest, at least for the moment.
Noting his diffuse awareness, or distant expression, or even maybe feeling that his fear had been diminished for the battles his body was already fighting, she grinned at him, winked and blew a kiss before tilting her head up toward a grate in the corner of the cell,
"Lower it down," she instructed.
Dean swallowed hard, as the sound of a metal deadbolt reminded him of the cells in Eddy Jay's underground play pit, then sent twisting shivers through him, oh damn I never wanted to hear that sound again... The bolt slid open and the grate lifted up. At first he couldn't figure out what was being lowered through the opening, the light was so faint the very air was sepia and grainy, coupled with his dry gritty eyes the best he could make out was that it was flesh toned, wearing a pair of dark colored shorts, and he was tall with a head of dark hair that hid most of his face but not the gag over his mouth. Once more, Dean felt his heart stop though this time it almost refused to start again. His belly and bowels filled with hot tarry weight, No, no! NO! That isn't... it can't be, is that the one who called my name? It could be a trick. It can't be Sam, it wouldn't be! Please whatever the hell may be up there do NOT let that be Sam! in the scant light it was almost impossible to tell, What the hell is she gonna do? the body's descent stopped, suspended just a few feet in the air and Dean dared to take a breath. Maybe it's NOT a person, maybe it's a mannequin or something yeah maybe that's what it is... I feel pretty puke-ish right now... his eyes flicked to the whip, what the hell is she gonna do with that thing? he felt himself shake his head inside, Aaah no...please no. WHY is she doing this! Something Please TELL me that's not Mine, just some kind of sign please! he begged silently. While her attention was focused elsewhere, his ankles began to work. He ground his teeth against the cutting pressure against them when he flexed and pulled, using his back, his neck, his everything he had some kind of control over, to try and start working the brackets out of the wall. I hope to hell they're not anchored...
Waxy cold sweat slithered snake-like down his body as the victim turned once more before stopping. When and if the poor bastard across from him awoke, they would be face to face. Did he start out like me? he wondered examining as much as he could, looking for what kind of damage may have already been done. Small streaks of blood became visible on his skin He leaned forward as much to put tension on the brackets as to get the best look possible, IS it him? Damnit! I can't tell! Hey BITCH! You wanna let his arms down by his sides, maybe bring him a little closer so I can see his face? Gonna need glasses after this. Or better yet, turn up the light... no wait don't do that! Fear thudded against his breastbone, If that IS Sam I sure as hell don't want him to see how bad I'm hooked up here, at least not right off the bat, not till I can give him a heads' up, Sharp cutting tension increased on the nails in his arm and the rapidly purpling area where the hammer had snapped his radius somehow became subject to the tension of his leaning, though oddly enough this gave him a little relief from that particular pain.
The air whistled as the ruby lipped bitch swung the home made whip, the barbs of the heavy wire sticking into the body of the man before him.
"NOOO! DON'T!" he screamed through the stutter of his heart beat as his eyes registered the movement just a moment too late. The barbs had sunk and the lungs of the man before him, gasping through only his nose bellowed like a freight train whistle, his head rolled back and a sound Dean hoped to never hear again echoed not only in the cell but in his memory as well. He remembered hearing his brother howl like that once, whipped with a bicycle chain spread eagle on his face, pinned by an unseen assailant to the floor while the chain fell again and again, again, ripping flesh and fracturing bone with Dean locked in a cell, burning from his own injuries, unable to lift a finger to help.
"NooOOooo! Don't you do that! DON'T! Please!" he cried in the grainy dimness.
The man was held motionless by the barbs still piercing his skin, sticking there, keeping him still, his eyes sqinched shut while his throat choked against the agonies of his flesh as the bitch's eyes flicked to Dean. Her lips turned up at the corners, she rocked backward with a grunt and yanked the nine strips of barbed wire free from the body, her eyes flashing brightly as the elder Winchester screamed his protest. His body pulled against his restraints in time with the cries of the younger man across from him, the one whose eyes he felt searching for his in the dimness despite barely holding onto consciousness. Dean's eyes closed just in time to feel something wet flick onto his face and stick there.
Footsteps slid across the dirt flooring, his lips curling back over his teeth, What you do to me is one thing! So help me GOD if that's my brother bitch you are gonna be shitting that whip when I get through with you!
"I snip some of the barbs so there's a variation in depth, I bend others so they grip the flesh better," she smiled, "...just enough."
Carefully, almost delicately she turned the sinister contraption, taming the springy pieces gently against the wooden handle despite her heavily gloved fingers. He could see marks on her forearms where the device had bitten her and secretly he delighted, You're gonna get a helluva lot worse when all this is over with! If it's the last thing I do I'll see to it! he swore internally, his head turning to the side, his lips pressed together in a grimace while his teeth clenched. He recognized the posture and did his best to tighten everything he could against whatever part of him she might see fit to assault next.
Breath 'woosh'ed' from him as the stunning, and oddly pointed crushing sensation that had sat waiting patiently in the shadows of his awareness to be remembered above the other pains he'd endured, flared to life, Oh yeah... the flail, right. Numb heat zipped back and forth between his armpits and groin, and his eyes closed as he tried to breathe through the agony of the blunt end of the handle being rammed end on into the center of the bruise.
"Ow!" he grunted through clenched teeth, his eyes blazing into hers, hot with fury and burgeoning hatred.
She smiled recognizing the light of hate in his eyes and knew it was time to either move very carefully, or to get reckless. "Careful" was not a factor in her nature.
--
"Damnit Bobby don't you think I wish I knew!" Sam yelled rubbing his face with his palm. Over eight hours since his brother disappeared from the face of the earth, almost eleven since the last time they'd spoken, and he was verging on sick.
"God I know! ... I know... and I'm sorry! Hell I'd... wash his damned underwear by HAND for the next year to find him!" he shook his head and shrugged, "I don't know! That's what I'm saying Bobby! Look we were doing some research on some local disappearances, I was at the hall of records, he was at the library. He finished with the microfilm and was just starting on the newspapers. He said he'd call when he was done or to meet him there if I finished first. That's what I'm saying! I WENT there and he was gone!" Sam stormed fisting his fingers through his hair feeling like he was spinning the Impala's wheels in a bog, "Of course we have! Ever since Jake opened the gate you KNOW we've been careful..." Sam scrubbed his face and forced himself to breathe, "... no, it's broken, I found some pieces of it in the alley behind the library," and that's not all I found.
Halfway through the room he and Dean had rented three days ago he wheeled toward the door, "I don't know!" he yelled furiously, "It's not the same! This is DEAN Bobby! DEAN! He doesn't run away! He doesn't go chasing his own boogeymen! it's not his style! It's not what he does! I'm the one who goes off half cocked NOT him! You know that!" he pinched away the tears that clouded his eyes.
Something's wrong... something's whole worlds of wrong... damnit! damnit damnit! him and those stupid damned cell phones! Damnit Dean... why can't you keep one longer than a few months? Dude... but it wasn't the cell phone that had him worried. He reached into his jeans pocket, his hand closing around the small piece of metal, feeling its pokey places sticking his palm, but not too hard, then looked at it, He never takes it off... his link to his patron, his own spirit... Jeez Dean and you're without it... help me find you! Help me help you... PLEASE... he swallowed a sob, "...if you find anything call me..." he choked then hung up before listening to yet another of Bobby's admonitions to be careful. "Yeah right... I'll do anything I need to, he's my brother..." he felt his throat close on the last but the disconnected line lay without a response. He knew Bobby and Ellen were busy doing everything they could to track down and exorcise as many demons as possible, and that over the last year they'd become an information hub among other hunters that were out there. He also knew that all they could do from that far away was to keep their ears open for anything that might give him an idea of what happened to Dean.
Sam Winchester collapsed to the floor, his legs crossed under him, his big brothers' pendant in his right hand while he scrolled down the list of numbers in his phone book, just as he highlighted the one he was looking for his phone rang. He looked at the incoming number then breathed deep.
--
"NO PLEASE!" he called watching the battered and bloody body of his cell mate being drawn through the trap door in the ceiling, "At least tell me who he is!"
"Now why would it matter to you? What could you possibly do that would make any difference to that sad sack of a buck three ninety eight in salts and minerals huh?" she purred against his cheek, a few of the barbs of her home made torture device snagging his skin as she drew it across his chest.
"Well for one when I get out of here I can dedicate the gratification to him that I'm gonna get shoving that thing down your throat until you scream through your ass for mercy you bitch!"
She smiled nonplussed, "Hmmm, then what're you gonna do? Go see the grand canyon or something cause... otherwise it's just... an anticlimax now isn't it?" she smirked wrapping those lips around one of the fingers that had been down his pants. She groaned deeply before drawing it out and stepping back, her wrist moving in circles while the strips whistled through the air.
"Heh... don't make me get creative..." he sneered as she leaned forward grasping his jaw bone, her thumb and forefinger wedged at the hinge, feeling very much like warm pitons in either side as the pressure applied kept him from being able to bite. Slowly she pressed her mouth to his, her teeth grasping his lower lip and tugging just enough to get the point across.
"I could tear you open without a second's hesitation and feast on your flesh and screams Dean, you do know that don't you? By NOW?" she purred.
"What the hell kind of demon are you?" he breathed as her teeth sunk into the tender velvet underside of his lip.
Her scarlet mouth stretched against his, her teeth tearing a small bit of him as she let go and looked at him, her tongue flicking out once more, this time with a bit of his very own flesh visible on it before she swallowed it down with a smile.
"Demon? DEEmon? Ahh Dean... now is that anything to call a lady of MY stature?" she asked.
He hadn't noticed but her grip on the home made device had shifted. One hand held the base of the 'handle' nearest the eye through which the wires had been fastened. The other hand held the far end of the clippings themselves. In one deft move, nine, foot long clippings of barbed wire held taut between her hands, raked across his chest in a blaze of searing red. Each bent barb that snagged and pulled against his skin, grabbing and pinching as it tore open its very own tiny flap was noted. Each scratch resulting from the clipped dull ends that did little more damage than a kitten's scratch was still recognized, but the worst were the straight barbs. Each of them pressed flat into him at the start of that deft motion, then yanked sideways through his skin. Some of those ends he was sure he felt vibrate a metallic scrape, something like tin foil on metal fillings except that it was in his ribs as it scraped across bone itself.
He knew he screamed. He knew she relished it when he did. He knew he didn't give a damn what she wanted. HE wanted OUT, HE wanted to know who that poor son of a bitch was that she'd mangled the hell out of, it seemed, JUST to milk screams from him. He would settle for death if it came for him. He wished it would. But in the meantime, he strained. In the meantime he pulled against his restraints, Damn the torpedoes! Full steam ahead you sadistic bitch! I'm gonna kill you, so help me I WILL kill you! In the meantime he continued to survive.
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G'up. Nuh. GET UP! No. Then MOVE! Nuh. They'll come! They'll come and take you back!... nuhn't care. Sam? Wha'bou Szzam...so tired. His fist clenched in the dirt, a few small animals skittered away. Some ballsy woodland thing waddled over the back of his legs then slid off his left hip. Faint puffs of warm and whiskers tickled his side. Something warm and wet prodded a tear in his skin, Get up for Sam! Huh uh, tired, rest. He'll die! ... ... ... DO you HEAR ME?! He'll DIE! YOUR BROTHER! YOUR BABY! The CHILD YOU RAISED WILL DIE! ... ... ... more wet warmth prodded that tear before tiny needle like teeth bit and held the flap of broken tissue, Oh God Sam! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! then the owner of those sharp little teeth began to tug.
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tbc.
Please R&R
Thanks.
sifi