The Beast Within

-Chapter 6-

It smelled foul and dry. Sam had trouble breathing and when he opened his eyes it stayed dark. He wasn't blindfolded so his immediate thought was that he had either gone blind or that it was pitch-black were he was.
Was there a noise, or was it just the ringing in his ear? He moved his head slightly, turned it only a little just to regret it immediately as a sharp pain seemed to explode in his head. Had he been hit? On the head? It sure felt like it. It also felt like there was something over his head. He could feel a coarse material barely touching his lips.
Oh great, he concluded. I have been kidnapped again. Dean is going to freak out all over again. He is going to look for me, and he will find the car keys on the ground and he will…what was that? Did he hear some footsteps approaching? He tried to move his hands, but they were tied behind his back and he appeared to be sitting on something like a chair probably.

"Hello?" he croaked with a dry voice and immediately his head was knocked back hard. For a brief moment he thought he could hear the vertebrates click in and out of place.

"Quiet!" a male voice demanded and Sam suddenly wasn't in the mood for small talk anymore. Not until he knew what or who he was dealing with.

The man had a slow walk, his shoe soles seemed to be brushing over the floor but Sam couldn't make out if he was walking away or coming closer, when suddenly the stinking jute bag that was put over his head was yanked off in one sudden movement that startled him.
It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Eventually he could make out a shady room filled with cabinets. A kitchen in an old farmhouse maybe?
The silhouette of a person finally caught his attention; he stood near the shaded window, quietly staring back at Sam. For a brief moment Sam was reminded of the Yellow-Eyed demon, but that couldn't be. He couldn't be back, could he? Sam couldn't see the man's face, but the shape on his head was a hat that he seemed to remember form somewhere. Sam was searching through his blurry memory but couldn't arrange his thoughts properly when it finally dawned on him.

"You are the old man from the parking lot!" he said smug. 5 seconds later he wished he hadn't said anything, as his chair got knocked over and he was kicked fiercely.

"Why are you doing this? Are you possessed?" Sam yelled desperately and suddenly the old man stopped hitting him but he continued to tower over him in a way that Sam didn't like.

"If by possessed you mean filled with the word of god, then yes, I am possessed."

"Oh great" Sam muttered and clenched his teeth when his head was pulled back by his hair.

"You on the other hand are nothing more than a foul beast sent to do the devils work. I have seen the signs and I understand"

"Trust me! You don't!" Sam replied callously.

"Silence!" the old man demanded and much to Sam's surprise he put him, including the chair back into an upright position, then without further explanation, he left the kitchen

What the hell was that all about, Sam thought, checking if his jaw still worked. If this man wasn't possessed he sure was crazy. But why did he know him and his confusing connections to the dark side? Sam was a little more concerned by this, than the fact that he just got beaten up. What was the old man going to do to him next?
He couldn't help but feel a little worried. He looked around for anything that might help him escape but there was absolutely nothing in sight. There was an empty kitchen table to his left, but that was it. Usually Sam had a small spare knife on him, but after tonight's costume odyssey he had nothing but empty pockets.
Damn you, damn you. He thought, meaning himself and the fact that he wasn't prepared or had seen the attacker coming. Apart from the fact that he had been captured by a feeble old man, he was more concerned about Dean right now. He really didn't want to put Dean through another ordeal again. He felt strangely guilty and with a sigh let his head fall forward, his chin touching his chest. Maybe if he concentrated really hard he could loosen something, or maybe he could even break free. Anything. He took a deep breath and tensed every muscle. He had to suppress a scream when he pushed his arms against the strong shackles behind his back which didn't budge an inch. His arms burned from the strain when he tried again and again until his wrists were sore. It didn't help anything.
He sighed and let out unholy curses which were usually Dean's domain. Sam suddenly was really angry about the fact that he was trapped. This wasn't fair and it was right. He had done nothing and this old man had no right to treat him like this. Sam took a few deep breaths and tried to channel his anger into something more constructive.
Again he tried to pull his arms apart but this time he couldn't hold back and his scream was so strong it was almost earth shattering, but it didn't help him.
His chest was moving fast though he was trying to calm himself down again, as he felt like he had just run a marathon. His shoulders were aching now and his head was pounding with a migraine that made him feel sick. He wanted to cry out of frustration but didn't even have the energy left for it. He let his head fall towards on side and kept staring into the gloomy darkness until his thoughts carried him to a happier place.

He had fallen asleep in an upright position and was suddenly woken up buy a harsh slap in the face.

"Would you stop with the.." he began but was silenced with another sharp "Quiet!"

Sam looked at the man displaying a mixture of anger and confusion. Talk to me old man, he thought. What do you want? Tell what you are going to do with me, so I can plan an escape.

"Do you see this?" the old man yelled and smacked an old book on the kitchen table dispersing dust.

Sam winced and frowned. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer that. He new the book well, he read it several times, so instead he nodded carefully.

"I thought you might!" the old man said with a content undertone.

"All these years I was blind to the signs, and then finally, he spoke to me. He gave me a purpose!"

Sam couldn't make heads or tails of any of this. He wanted to ask what he meant but knew that it would cost him another slap on the head.

"What purpose?" Sam asked preparing himself for yet another blow, but after a few seconds he carefully opened one eye as nothing had happened. He looked around but the old man wasn't in sight, then suddenly he was attacked from behind. Something cold touched his neck and he demanded to know what he was doing to him. The cold thing around his neck closed uncomfortably tight all of a sudden and Sam flexed his strong neck muscles a few times in protest.

"From now on you will not speak another foul word." The old man whispered in Sam's ear. Sam couldn't help but feel weirdly violated.

"And if you don't obey…I will cut your tongue out!"

Sam swallowed dry, which wasn't easy as the collar around his throat was uncomfortably tight. Next thing he felt was a sharp prick pierce the skin of his upper arm. Sam knew that he was being drugged; he could only hope that the old guy wouldn't get the dosage wrong and kill him right away when already his eyes felt really heavy. The room started spinning and the shapes began to blur and bleed into one another. He wanted to protest, form words, but his tongue was so heavy. He could only produce some sort of mumbling growls when he felt the shackles around his hands loosen, but somehow Sam didn't think that he was free to go. He was proven right when the old man pulled him up, but as his legs already had gone limp Sam instantly collapsed on the dirty kitchen floor. His head hit the floor tiles hard as he had no control over his body anymore. The old man yanked his head up by the collar and pulled Sam with him. Sam tried to reach the collar and ease the uncomfortable pressure around his throat but the horrible feeling of being choked remained. His head was spinning and the lack of oxygen didn't help him to stay in control. To his surprise the ground under him changed suddenly and the tiles turned into stairs. He desperately tried to grab hold of something to help him defend himself or to stop him being dragged down a dark staircase, but his arms were made of lead and his stiff fingers barley moved at his will. His shoulders hit every new stair hard and the sharp pain shot through his spine while he was still gasping for air. Before he reached the bottom he finally passed out.

It was dark and very quiet when Sam suddenly woke up from a nightmare.
He looked around for Dean but it was to dark to see. He was still shaking from the dream of being abducted and tortured. He suddenly missed Dean's reassuring voice, the company of his brother that always made him feel safe.
He coughed and tried to clear his throat when he realised that the tight grip around his neck that had been so intense in his dream, was still present. His fingers trembled when he hesitantly reached for his own throat. It was a dream, it had to be, but when his fingers finally felt the cold metal he almost started crying. It had to be a dream. This couldn't be true, it just couldn't.
Slowly he pulled himself up, or at least he tried, but his knees were still weak and wouldn't carry him and his back was in agony and covered in tender black and blue bruises.
He could only crouch and every position seemed to hurt somewhere else so he decided to lay down for a bit and rest his sore body. He stared into the darkness around him and very slowly began to make out vague shapes that only seemed visible when he didn't look directly at them. He wasn't sure how big the room was, but it was definitely a basement and the windows had been sealed shut with something. Only drips of dusty light managed to pass through around the window edges. Sam's breathing was calm now. He thought about the old man, the book he had slammed on the table. It had been an old bible. Sam new most of it by heart and he had a feeling he new what the old man was getting at. He called him a foul beast and a demonic tool. He wondered if he was referring to the Book of Revelation. Sam's expression changed from a stoic blank look to that of a self-doubting man. Assuming the old man was not the average nut-job and he didn't seem to be a hunter either, what if he was right? Sam believed in god after all, so did the old man.
If he thought he was sent by god to detain the beast of the apocalypse, maybe Sam was the right target, considering his past. Suddenly he very much wished Dean was here to tell him that this was all nonsense and that he shouldn't let anyone mess with his head like that and that the old man was only a crazy old son of a bitch.
I hope you find me soon Dean, Sam mumbled in his thoughts, I hope you do.