The Beast Within

- Chapter 10 -

Benjamin kept feeding and starving Sam for a few alternating days. Right now he was starving him again, but the water down in the basement had made Sam so sick that he couldn't keep food down anyways. The sheer thought of a cheeseburger or something like that made his stomach turn anticlockwise.

Sam lay on the floor his eyes pinned on a rat that was scouring through the desolate basement. Out of sheer boredom he thought of ways to capture it and wondered if he could be quick enough to catch it with his bare hands. He stretched his naked arm towards the rat that paid no attention to him as he moved he dirty fingers slowly to get her attention. He could smell her, and that she had been outside and in the sewer.

The scratching of the rats tiny claws was a welcome distraction from the constant dripping of the water tab. He had tried to fix it, tighten it, break it, but nothing worked. It dripped day and night, every 5-8 seconds according to his watch, drilling itself into his brain like an evil worm eating away at his sanity.

He took his arm back and wrapped it round his waist. He felt cold. The old man had taken his socks and his shirt the other day. When he saw Sam's tattoo on his chest he gave him a whole speech about the mark of the devil and to a certain degree Sam even concurred with the fact that he and his brother were certainly marked in some strange way.

Sam hated the fact that he was chained to the wall, he hated the collar, he hated the old man, he hated his helpless situation and he hated even Dean for not rescuing him by now.

He felt let down, discarded and worthless. In his imagination Sam created his own reality in which Dean had abandoned him and sometimes Sam discovered that he was mumblings words into the darkness.

The noise coming from the basement door being unlocked told Sam that it was either feeding time or torturing time again when the old man appeared at the top of the stairs. Sam had thought about this the past few days and he was watching the old man very carefully, assessing the right moment before he would attack him. His body was trembling as he tried to suppress a suspicious wheezing. His chest was filled with enough anger to help him follow through with his plan.

The old man put the tray down next to him only briefly looking at Sam. He had decided that Sam wasn't worth being considered a person any longer, which on top of all the other humiliation so far, drove Sam wild. He launched himself towards the old man knocking him off his feet. The chain rattled angrily as Sam wrestled with his tormentor. Sam's strong hands closed tight around the feeble old man's throat, and it was a pleasing moment for Sam to see his torturer suffer for a change.

"Go ahead…kill me…you'll never be free" the old man gasped with a lot of effort. Sam didn't care. He only wanted to kill him right now, nothing else mattered.

"You'll never get the chain off…you'll die down here"

It took a moment for these words to reach Sam's secluded mind.

"So what?" he snarled back "At least I can take you down with me!" he sneered, displaying beastly teeth and his dark demon eyes filled with hatred…

"Huuuh!" Sam was gasping for air like a drowning man as he shot up from this dream. Disoriented and trying to rest his hands on the floor which he suddenly couldn't find, he fell back on his left shoulder forcing a surprised "ouch" out of him. His heart still pounding, the blood gushing past his eardrums, he looked around in the dark and it took him a moment to channel his thoughts. What just happened? His pulse was competing with his heavy boisterous breathing for the 1st place as he tried to calm the rage that felt like a concrete slab compressing his chest. This is what it must feel like to be buried in a collapsed mineshaft he thought. He needed air. Fresh air and lots of it!

The intensity of the dream was disturbing and Sam didn't know what to do with it. Overwhelmed by the fact that his own life began to mean so little, that he was willing to sacrifice it, so his wrath could destroy him, he managed himself into an upright position. He rested his head against the cold wall, taking in more deep breaths, rolling his head from one side to another to sooth the unwanted feelings that battled within him. He tried to focus. He wanted to kill the old man so badly and he had never felt this much hate and spite for another human being before. Sure, he had been angry at his Dad in the past and than of course that vampire son of a bitch Gordon! Back than Sam had experienced an unknown rage that let him do things he never thought possible, but never did he care so little about the life of another being than now.

Sam was ashamed that he was capable of these feelings. He was losing his mind, that's what was happening he thought. He swallowed dry and exhaled in intervals not sure if he should either stuff down these feelings or force them out like a possession.

In order to take his mind off the subject, Sam felt up the bruises on his forearm where the old man hat hit him with a stick the other day. It only hurt when he pressed really hard. It also felt as though he had a cracked rip or something too, as a sharp pain occasionally shot through his hip and into his chest and thigh when he moved a certain way. The pain suddenly was more bearable than the revulsion he felt.

It wasn't the same sickness brought on by the unhealthy tab water, as recently it had started to agree with him more. Whatever had infected his body and his mind, appeared to have little to do with his digestive tract.

Sam balanced his arms on his knees crossing his wrists. At least he still had his beloved wristwatch, a gift from Jessica for his birthday. She had it inscribed for him on the back and it was the best gift he'd ever gotten. God, he missed her so much. He was so sorry that he had let her down, that he couldn't save her even though back then he had visions of her cruel death. Could it have been his latent dark side that had kept him from acting, he wondered. Oh Jess, I am so sorry. He ran his hands through his sticky greasy hair and started crying until he came down with a headache.

Next time he saw the old man, Sam was cautious not to get in his way. The memory of the intense dream was still vividly alive within him, but no matter how strong the desire to kill him was, Sam had decided that he didn't want to die just now, and if he killed the man he had become so dependent on by now, he would.

This time the old man, who Sam had secretly named Professor Coldheart because he needed to give the unknown evil a name, hadn't brought a tray with food, but a metal bowl filled with something. Sam wrinkled his nose as he identified the smell. Like a mix between cowshit and cheeseburgers. He shied away from the bowl the Professor dropped at his feet, in protest. He wasn't going to eat stinking dog food, no way Jose!

"You despise your food?"

"No, I despise you" Sam growled back and stared at the old man, his eyes filled with hatred.

"You are going to eat or you die. Do you want to die?"

"I thought I wasn't supposed to talk" Sam scoffed, quickly moving back when the old man approached him. The Professor looked like he was judging Sam for something he didn't do, then slowly he bent to pick up the rusty chain. Sam watched every movement carefully; his eyes were perfectly adjusted to the darkness by now. The old man yanked the chain tight causing Sam to choke on the collar. Sam tried to resist his tormentor but he just kept pulling the chain towards him. Much to Sam's discomfort Professor Coldheart had produced the Tazer from his pockets. Sam panicked as he didn't want to let those vile shocks take control of his already aching body again. He screamed with agony and anger but wasn't able to defend himself. The next thing Sam watched was the old man padlocking bits of his chain together but he couldn't understand why.

"Eat!" he bellowed sharply.

"No!" Sam protested which earned him more burning shocks.

"You ungrateful creature!"

"Why you are doing all this…?" Sam tried to sneak the question in that haunted him so much, whilst avoiding eye contact at all cost.

"You will find out soon. Now be a good boy and eat!"

"I am not a dog" Sam protested flaring his nostrils.

"No? Hm, let's see. You crawl around on all fours, you wear a collar like any good dog…and there is your bowl." He kicked it with his polished shoe towards Sam "Now eat!"

"I know what you are trying to do, but it won't work!" Sam grimaced forcing his anger out his nostrils.

"Really you think you know? Since when can a filthy dog think like a human bring?"

Slowly Sam stood up, the room was spinning his knees shaking. He could barely stand upright as the chain was so short now.

"For the last time! I am not a dog!"