Coercion
Coffeemaniac
Rated T for violence, language and suggestive situations. Possible trigger warning but probably nothing to worry about. No slash.
Reviews are welcome. Feed the writer.
A/N: I am not a fan of "Weak Sam". As you read this you might start to think that I am. Try to stick with it, there are reasons for Sam's behavior.
Season 3: Dean is scheduled for hell. Sam's powers haven't developed.
Setting: Ranch Head, Wyoming (near the center of the Devil's Gate built by Samuel Colt)
Part 2
Sam Winchester woke up on the hard linoleum floor just as he had for the last week. His gray and blue flannel shirt lay next to him where it had fallen off during the night. His only source of blanket or pillow depending on the temperature in the kitchen, he had come to depend on that shirt as an odd source of comfort. Unlike the dark blue t-shirt and heavy jeans he still wore; those had become reminders of his captivity. He hadn't changed his clothes since his capture. On one occasion, he had been locked in a laundry room where he stood naked while he washed his belongings, which had been weird and uncomfortable. The washed clothes, warm from the dryer, made the experience worth it, but it still just reminded him of his situation.
As he slowly emerged from sleep, he groaned softly. Enough time had passed that he didn't expect to feel comfortable or rested or clean. But, it hadn't been long enough that he was used to the surroundings. It still took a minute to look around, recognize the cold kitchen and feel the despair flood through him. As he pulled himself up, he sighed and leaned his back against the wall. The chain on his ankle rattled against the floor and scratched painfully against the raw flesh.
He pulled his knees up, waiting for the inevitable. He needed to use the bathroom but that wasn't going to happen until someone else woke up. Ignoring the sharp tang of body odor permeating his skin, he closed his eyes.
He hated the gnawing hunger that stayed with him all the time. Providing cereal in the morning, and water a couple times a day allowed his captors to keep him alive but that was about it. He stumbled more than he should, sometimes from dizziness, sometimes his legs just quit. Occasionally he wondered if the head injury he sustained on the first day of his captivity was more serious than he thought, but he dismissed that idea. Instead, he blamed minimal sustenance and the daily work for his weakened state.
Forcing himself to concentrate on something other than his miserable conditions, Sam wondered what menial labor he'd tackle that day. Every morning, Eddie and Ava would give him a job to complete. Yesterday, he'd repaired a sagging section of the front porch. Some supports beneath it had weakened from weather so he'd replaced them and rebuilt the corner to make it sturdy.
Day by day, he completed jobs that they had neglected or were too lazy to do themselves, and while it bothered him to help his captors, he preferred staying busy to inactivity. The arrangement worked well enough, at least until Dean rescued him.
One of his captors, Eddie Brennan strode into the kitchen, stretching and yawning. He rubbed his bare belly, the long black hairs covering it popped back up as his hand passed over. With a paunch and stark, white skin, he stopped a few feet from Sam and scowled.
"You're gross," Eddie said.
"Yeah, I'm gross," Sam said, his tone overlaid with irony.
Eddie stood about 5'10' with unkempt black hair that always looked greasy. His beady, black eyes reminded Sam of a carrion pigeon.
Ava Brennan walked in next. She gave Sam a cursory glance, slid her hand over her husband's shoulder and kept on walking. She left through the back door without speaking. Eddie watched her go with a hungry expression.
Ava was probably ten years younger than Eddie. She was about his height with a tiny waist and good curves. Wearing snug jeans and a sweater that dropped low on her breasts, she strode through the room deliberately ignoring them.
Sam used the wall for support and stood up slowly. He steadied himself refusing to appear weak, and waited for Eddie to release him.
"I'm going to get dressed," Eddie said.
Sam sighed. He needed the bathroom and he wanted the cereal.
Ava walked back inside. She stalked over to Sam and put her hands on his chest. She leaned in and sniffed him slowly while she pressed her body against his. She rubbed her breasts enticingly against him but he just felt nauseous at the attention. Sam pushed her back.
"Get off me," he said, shoving with both hands. This wasn't the first time she had tried something like this and it infuriated him.
She laughed and rested her hands on his hips.
"If you keep pushing me away like that I'm going to think you like boys."
Sam rolled his eyes with a scowl to match.
"Fine. You stink anyway," she said with disdain. "If Eddie didn't need you to get going on that wood outside, I'd throw you in the shower and then I'd see how much you don't like me. I bet with the right stimulation," she licked her lips, "I could get you to like me just fine."
"When's the Sheriff coming back?" Sam said. He hadn't seen Duke Davis in a few days.
"What do you care? Right now there's some chopping to do. And I know you're already thinking that an axe is a wonderful weapon but, you can forget about that."
Ava unchained his ankle. Sam thought about attacking her. He could knock her out and be free of the house in moments but he didn't try. Failure would have bigger consequences than those he'd feel himself. The sheriff had planted a few fail safes to keep him in line. Sam needed to remember that, at least for the moment.
"Let's go. Outside. You need to earn your keep."
"What am I earning except some corn flakes?" Sam said.
"And you're grateful for them, aren't you?"
She pointed towards the back door.
"Wait, wait," Sam said. "Bathroom."
He didn't expect to get breakfast anymore but he didn't want to piss himself.
Ava stopped with her hands on her hips and narrowed eyes. Eddie walked in, wearing blue jeans, a plain button down shirt and work boots. He chuckled as he rubbed his pudgy chin.
"What's going on here?" Eddie said then to Ava. "Did you feed him?"
"He made me mad," she said. "Started making demands. No cereal until he learns some manners. But, I guess you have to take him to the bathroom."
Eddie shook his head with a smile, apparently amused by his wife's antics. Sam stood waiting. Someplace inside him he wondered why he didn't take any action but the idea refused to take root.
"Hey," Ava said. She moved in front of Sam, putting her back to Eddie. "I'm going to take a stroll downstairs if you can't behave."
Sighing at her words, he nodded. He didn't want her in the basement. Besides threatening to feed Dean to the next monster, Davis had one more way to keep Sam from escaping; a teenager named Kristen Navarro. Deputy Myers had arrested her for driving with an open container of beer. Instead of running her through the legal system, the sheriff decided she could provide some leverage against Sam. He locked her up in a cage in the basement of Eddie's house.
Sam's made one escape attempt the day after being captured. It was ill planned and ill timed. He was suffering from a concussion after the car accident and he had been weak and dizzy. His vision hadn't returned to normal. Eddie and Ava caught him before he reached the front door.
That same day, Eddie introduced Sam to Kristen. He had walked him down the carpeted steps with a gun at his back. They landed in a finished room that looked like it would be used for entertaining except that all the furniture had been shifted to make room for a large, metal frame. The girl inside had begged to be released but Eddie never spoke to her, just told Sam that her safety depended on him.
Her pleas for release, her confusion and fear had tightened his belly and made him feel sick.
Ava's threat brought that feeling back.
Ignoring her self-satisfied smirk, Sam followed Eddie out of the kitchen and down a narrow hall. He used the bathroom then came back out without speaking.
"You shouldn't piss her off," Eddie said. He pressed a bottle of water into Sam's hand. "That'll have to do for now."
Sam rubbed his eyes then drained the bottle. Eddie pointed and Sam walked towards the living room and into the kitchen.
Ava waited near the back door. She leaned against the door jamb with her arms folded and a knowing grin.
SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL
Dean clutched the Taurus in one hand while he pushed open the wood door with the other. A creaking hinge announced his arrival and he scowled. With the advantage of surprise lost, he rushed in, searching in each direction for the black dogs hiding inside the old warehouse. The night before a young couple had been chased while taking a late night walk. Both of them described seeing glowing eyes that hung in the air combined with the odor of old garbage and a menacing growl that seemed to surround them.
The description matched werewolves and black dogs. There was no full moon so he eliminated werewolves.
As he spun from one side to the other, trying to watch every direction at once, he cursed Duke Davis and the rest of the Ranch Head police force. He needed a partner, someone to watch his back but the sheriff and Deputy Myers chose to wait outside and shoot silver bullets at anything that emerged.
From the dark he heard a low growl on his left side. He turned slowly knowing that black dogs traveled in small packs. He didn't want to attack one while three others jumped him. The red eyes sent a chill through him even as he fired. Letting off three shots he thrilled at the grunt and yelp knowing he hit one.
Heavy thumps barreled at him from behind. Dean spun again, found the eyes and fired. Three more silver bullets expelled. The beast cried out even as it thudded to the ground sending up dust.
Dean moved backward, turning silently as he listened for others. Civilians mistook black dogs for ghosts or spirits because they blended into the dark completely. They seemed to appear and disappear like ghosts. But, Dean knew better. They were solid beings that had adapted over millennia to stalk and hunt with near invisibility.
He heard a soft rumble behind him. Clutching the Taurus and knowing he had a back-up in his pocket, he spun again, holding his breath as he searched through the heavy darkness for red eyes. It took a moment before he spied them, higher than the rest meaning a much larger animal. Dean took aim. He heard another one moving on his right side. He dove to the left, firing as he did. A deafening yowl rose up then the thumping of paws against cement and he knew he'd only injured it. He yelled out, dropping the gun, when his hand tore open.
Dean rolled, putting the pain away for now, knowing he needed to put distance between himself and, at least, two monsters. He reached into his pocket while he moved, trying to tug the other gun free. His pant leg ripped near his knee then he felt this skin tear. Scrambling backwards, red eyes bore down on him.
He managed to get the gun out. He fired wildly, no longer certain where the monsters were. From another direction he heard more gun blasts. Sam? The thud of another dead dog hit the ground. Then he heard another burst, the last yelp and a thump against the floor.
Silence rained down, oppressive and final as Dean pushed himself off the ground. He searched for Sam, expecting to see his overly tall brother loping towards him. Instead he found Brian Myers and Duke Davis, flashlights illuminating their way as they approached.
"You all right, Winchester?" Brian said. Hovering somewhere in his twenties, the deputy was tall with a solid build and short, brown hair.
"Is that all of them?" Duke said.
"Should be," Dean said. "If there were any left, we'd still be fighting."
"Lights," Deputy Mark Lancaster called out.
A moment later they were blinded as the warehouse glowed from the overhead fluorescent lamps.
Duke scowled as he looked around. "Where are they?"
"They disappear in light. Look over there," Dean pointed towards one of the carcasses. "Look just above where you think it would be."
Duke tilted his head then squinted. Brian did the same thing.
"I'll be damned," Duke said when he spotted it.
The dog lay on its side, like a ghost hovering just below the peripheral. Its enormous head revealed a tongue hanging against the cement. As Duke looked around, his eyes grew wider.
"What do we do now?" Brian said, wonder in his voice.
"Burn them. We got to drag them out back, cover them with salt and gasoline."
"I thought that salt was something about spirits," Brian said.
"Black dogs are dark spirits, like demons but they're physical like werewolves. We salt, we burn. It's going to smell bad so neighbors will complain."
"We need to get you patched up," Duke said.
The three of them walked out the back door of the warehouse where a fire unit sat. Dean limped along, wincing at the pull on his leg. He held his hand cupped closed to his chest. Duke directed him to the firefighters waiting at the truck. One of them cleaned Dean's hand and leg. The paramedic was professional and gentle, and neither injury required stitches, but Dean cursed out loud at the burn of disinfectant. The pain echoed through his body and reminded him that he needed Sam.
When he rejoined Duke and the deputies, Dean practically spit out the instructions for dealing with the dead dogs.
"Settle down," the Sheriff told him.
"I'm tore up because I don't have a partner," Dean said, his anger spilling over.
"You cleared out the Smyth's shapeshifter on your own. And that rawhead that set up shop in the school basement. You just got unlucky tonight."
"No, I got lucky the other times."
"We're done talking about this, Dean. Let's get these corpses taken care of."
The Sheriff walked away from him and started directing the other men. Dean spent the next couple of hours watching them.
They blocked off a perimeter before dragging the beasts behind the building. Dean helped them find the four bodies but refused to help any further. When it was over, they left Mark and the firefighters to watch the blaze while Dean, Brian and Duke huddled together at Millie's Diner.
"I notice you guys decided to brave the scary monsters," Dean said after the waitress walked away.
Brian laughed as he sat back in the booth. Duke shot Dean a quick glare before a smile broke his craggy face.
"Saved your ass," Duke said.
You put it on the line, you might as well take care of it, Dean thought but didn't say.
"You did good work though," Duke said. "We haven't seen a black dog in a couple years. Getting four all at once was a lot to handle."
"It's just a band aid and you know it," Dean said. "We need to get the town protected so the monsters stop coming."
"Aren't you working on that?"
"It'd go faster with Sam."
Duke rolled his eyes while Brian diverted his attention to some corner of the restaurant. After a moment, Duke leaned into the table.
"I get that boy a computer and he'll be sending out smokescreens faster than a chicken pecking feed. You got plenty of time between these…incidents…to do the research so don't blow smoke up my ass with needing your brother for it."
"Look, I've been looking. No one wants this to be over more than me. But, I'm not finding what you need. Calling Bobby Singer would make a difference."
"It's not going to happen," Duke said.
The waitress, a co-ed with bad teeth, dropped off beers. Brian pushed one of them towards Dean giving him a shrug.
Shaking with anger, Dean twisted off the top and swallowed half of it before slamming the bottle down on the table.
"Take it easy," Duke said. "Drink your beer, keep your head and I'll give you a little treat tomorrow. Take you out to see your brother. You can check him out, see that he's healthy and maybe brain storm for a while about the bigger problem."
Dean hesitated with the beer against his lips. Excitement surged up inside him. He hadn't seen Sam since they were captured and only had a photograph to prove that his brother was still alive.
"Deal," Dean said.
While the three of them drank, he glanced towards Brian then back to Duke. In another context, he could like them. With a calm exterior and a sharp mind, Brian would have made a good hunter. Duke's confidence and dedication to his town's safety made him a solid leader. A part of Dean respected them but remembering that he was a prisoner, separated from Sam and forced into labor annihilated any positive impressions he allowed to creep in.
"When's the baby due?" Duke said to Brian.
"The due date is next week but everyone is telling us that first babies come when they want," Brian said.
"God pushes them out of the oven when they're done," Duke said. "Right, Dean?"
Dean swallowed more beer then shrugged. "I know nothing about babies."
"I'm just hoping she doesn't go into labor next weekend," Brian said. "Cowboys are playing the Air Force."
"Dallas?" Dean said, wondering if it was some kind of exhibition game.
"Wyoming Cowboys, college game."
The three of them stayed at the restaurant for a couple of hours talking about sports and a new bar that was opening in downtown Ranch Head. Davis stopped drinking after one beer and when it was time to leave, he drove both of them. He dropped Brian off first. The young deputy ambled slowly up the walk then waved from his front door before going inside. Davis drove to the hotel across from the police station next, and let Dean out. They both knew he wouldn't try to leave town without Sam.
Dean walked into the place Duke arranged for him. His laptop was sitting on the table, still open to a research page about protection spells. Davis had run the wireless through the police computers so someone was always monitoring his activity. If he reached out to Bobby or anyone else through the computer, they would know. If he attempted anything unrelated to the current monster, or finding a protection spell, they would know.
The room spread out into a kitchen, living room and bedroom. Duke said he deserved a suite for all his hard work. Dean hated it. Normally, he'd revel at staying someplace decent for a change but he didn't know how Sam was living and it bothered him. Guilt reared up each time he walked in but Duke insisted he stay there. Knowing he didn't have a choice only frustrated him.
Heading to the bathroom, Dean stripped down to check his injuries. Both of the bandages remained white and clean so he knew the bleeding had stopped. The ache pulsing through his limbs made him tired though and all he wanted was a shower and sleep. He stared into the mirror, seeing the same helpless man staring back and he slammed his fist against the counter. The vibration shot through his arm. He closed his eyes against the pain, getting it under control before he strode back into the living room.
Sitting down at the computer, he wished he could call Bobby knowing that their old friend would open up some books and have the spell or the ward within hours. Angry again, he flipped the computer lid closed and slumped back in the chair.
He needed to convince Duke to let him make that call.
As he stared into the empty room he thought about seeing Sam the next day. Wanting to be ready, Dean had attached a holster in the wheel well of Duke's police car a couple of days after getting captured. It had taken almost fifteen minutes to get it secured and he almost missed his chance. Both Brian and Mark walked out of the station just as he was finishing but he managed to cover and they'd forgotten about it. In the morning, he intended to slide a gun inside.
When he saw Sam they'd fight their way to freedom. He couldn't imagine why Sam hadn't already escaped. A couple humans in an old farm house shouldn't have stopped him for so long. But, once they were together in one place, they'd get away. Leave Ranch Head to fend for itself. The town deserved it for crashing the Impala, injuring Sam and kidnapping both of them.
After getting Sam, they'd need to get the Impala. He figured they'd use Mark Lancaster as a hostage then storm the police impound yard. Sam might want to sneak back into town later or something, but Dean wasn't leaving without 'baby'. The sheriff stole her away the first day and Dean was growing antsy being away from her for so long.
He rubbed his face and stood up. Walking into the kitchenette, he grabbed a bottle of beer from the small refrigerator then leaned with his back to the counter.
"Tomorrow, Sam," he said out loud.