AN: I know. I've been gone for a while. But it was not my fault! This chapter just refused to come out right!
Anyway, a HUGE thankyou to my lovely reviewers. 'Babyreaper','silenthowler','what you see in the shadows','animegal24','freetobescary'. Your kind words and enthusiasm inspire me to keep writing. You guys are AWESOME!
Onwards with Chapter 15...
Chapter 15
There comes a time in one's life when luck, fate, providence and even life turns away from you. When the dark clouds of hopelessness threaten to obstruct the light in your life and conquer your soul. When your soul cries for sunlight as it withers in the cold, lonely winter. When you desperately search for a reason to fight, a reason to live…when you yearn for a silver lining to comfort your bleak heart…when everything goes wrong and everything falls apart…when you beg for a miracle to deliver you from the evil in your world…
What do you do then? When no miracle is forthcoming…when all hope is lost…when the silver lining fades and disappears…when you lose your will to live…when the sunshine abandons you…when the dark clouds extinguish all light and overcome all hope? What do you do when all is lost?... What do you do?
Dean let out a soft groan as he rocked between the chasm of sleep and wakefulness. He chased after the wisp of a hazy reverie, the tendrils of the dream recoiling further and further into his subconsciousness and evading his reach. He ran faster than ever before, knowing somehow that he needed to capture the elusive fantasy before it vanished from his memory. He had to hold on…he needed to remember…
His surroundings seemed to wilt away as he ran faster and faster. The happy fantasy was gone; from his vision and his memory. He tried in vain to recall the blissful dream but the canvas of his mind remained blank.
He began disintegrating as awareness latched on to his mind and refused to let go. He tried to fight against the pull of reality, to go back to his content whimsy, but the colours drained from the picture as cognisance greeted him. The fantasy utopia was gone and harsh, merciless reality took its place.
The first thing he noticed when he woke up was the damp, unbearable cold. He shivered involuntarily, his fingers running over the cold, hard stone that made up the ground. It was cold, and he was glad; cold was good, it was the opposite of hell. He wasn't in hell. Hell was blazing and burning; it wasn't cold.
He attempted to sit up, noticing as he did so, the smooth, metal shackles that ensnared his wrists and ankles and affixed his appendages to the thick, foreboding bars of the small window of his prison. His gut shuffled uneasily at the thought of his apparent hostage situation.
His eyes slid across the cramped dungeon and came to rest on a collapsed figure huddled in a corner. The gigantic figure was soothingly familiar, as were the long, floppy hair and the dirty, bloody face.
"Sammy?!"
Dean moved toward his little brother, ignoring the loud clanking of his chains. He knelt beside Sam, instinctively assessing him for lethal injuries and permanent damage.
"Sammy? Come on, wake up." Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Sam's eyelids fluttered and gradually revealed his hazel eyes.
"Dean?" A soft groan accompanied the exclamation. "What happened?"
Dean sighed again, this time in frustration. The worse had had come to pass. His fears and nightmares had come true. They were caught…again; possibly for the last and final time.
Alistair…Alistair had him…he was caught…and Sammy…hell…he was going to be dragged back to hell…again…torture…pain…so much pain…blood …bones …fire …knives…demons…hell…pain…...
"Dean?"
Hell…fire…pain…blood…torture…
"Dean…hey! You okay? Dean!" Sam's worried voice dragged him back from the endless, merciless loop that had ensnared his mind to the present and he shook himself to get rid of the morbid thoughts. He couldn't fall apart…not now…Sam was depending on him.
"Yeah…yeah…I...I'm fine. As fine as we can be here anyway." Dean said, glancing around their prison.
"What?" Sam questioned in confusion and followed his brother's gaze.
Hard, impenetrable, concrete walls on all sides greeted his vision with stark, terrifying clarity. A short, steel door on one side was soldered in the walls and gave no promise of escape. The wrought iron bars set in a minuscule window allowed only shredded fragments of light into the dark cell. Trapped...no escape…confined…they were trapped…
"Okay..." Sam muttered, trying to keep his fear at bay. "Now what?"
Dean was saved from replying by the sound of heavy footsteps stomping their way towards them. A cold wave of horror crashed over his body causing him to shudder and tremble. He barely felt Sam's hand clamp over his own, too far gone to comfort his brother.
The footsteps were closer now, bringing with them horrors unknown. The air quivered in fright and seemed to run away in fear as the boys suddenly found it difficult to breathe. An unidentified pressure pressed against them, squashing their gut, choking their windpipes and rendering them immobile.
The brothers looked at each other, communicating words they hoped would not be the last. Their eyes conveyed strength; that the other would find the determination to fight. Hope; that they would find the will to live. Comfort; that they would not die alone.
A dark silhouette passed the bars of the window and then the footsteps came to a halt. A tense silence followed for a few, long seconds followed by the loud, ominous crash of shifting metal as the door was unlocked and unlatched.
The brothers waited with bated breaths as their captors appeared in the narrow doorway. Dean studied the imposing figure standing in front of half a dozen sturdily-built demons, the obvious leader of the horde. The figure radiated power, contempt, derision and a cold maliciousness that was so familiar that Dean could almost imagine himself to be back in hell. He addressed the figure, hoping to conceal his fear under false bravado.
"Kraven."
"Dean Winchester. I've been waiting for this moment for so long. Master is most pleased that I've successfully detained the traitor." The demon said with a maniacal smirk.
"Ofcoarse he is." Dean muttered. He was well aware of Kraven's pleasure and the reason behind it.
Sam raised a questioning eyebrow but Dean shook his head minutely, silently promising to explain at a later time. If he got a chance…
"In fact, Master was so thoroughly delighted that he promised that I could have a chance to play with you after he is done." The Demon grinned happily. "Ofcoarse, that is, assuming there's anything left of you after the Master is done."
Sam, easily angered at a threat to his brother, made to rise but was restrained by his brother. Kraven smirked at the display.
"Let's go then, shall we? We don't want to keep Master waiting."
With those words, the demons moved forward, grabbing their arms pulling at their chains. Sam and Dean attempted to fight back, if only on principle, knowing that they were severely outmatched. Though their struggle did little good and they were soon repressed by blows and hits.
The brothers, confined by strong arms and heavy shackles, were led to Alistair to decide their fate.
The throne room, as Dean impulsively decided to call it, was huge, dark and cold, which was apparently the theme of the whole forsaken demon-quarters. This particular room was obviously decorated to suit Alistair's grand as well as sinister preferences. The walls stretched high above their heads and were shrouded in dark, melancholy colours. A few ostentatious chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. A dais rose on one end, upon which sat an opulent throne, studded with glittering, precious jewels. The room was strangely familiar; horribly familiar. Dean gulped as the realization sank within him. The throne room was a recreation; a recreation of its counterpart in hell that was Alistair's mansion. Alistair had literally created hell on earth.
The iridescent throne was currently occupied by none other than Alistair himself, perched regally like a King gracing his subjects with his royal presence.
'Alistair always did fancy himself as a majestic king.' Dean mused. The demon was certainly feared and respected enough to be considered royalty. As it was, Alistair was one of Lucifer's most loyal followers and held a prominent position in the Devil's imperial court. 'Oh well, I was never one for politics…'
Alistair rose as the prisoners were pushed to their knees before the dais. Dean felt his stomach flip as Alistair smirked above their helpless, bowed forms.
"I told you that I would have you, did I not, Dean? You could have avoided bringing dear Sam into our affairs if you had just surrendered yourself to me from the beginning."
Dean was just about to issue a witty and sarcastic comment, as was his compulsion under any stressful situation, but Sam beat him to it.
"Go back to hell, you bastard, and leave us alone." Sam spat in indignation.
'So much for witty and sarcastic…' Dean sighed. But he had more important things to worry about than his little brother's evident deficiency in wit and sarcasm. But really, did he not teach the kid anything? He had, it seemed, been insufficient in educating his little brother about the art of acerbic retorting.
Dean shook his head to get back on track from his deviations. The humor in his thoughts dampened as the severity of the situation hit him again. He did indeed have more important things to worry about; like damage control.
While Sam's attempts at verbal retaliation were admirable, they were also troublesome. Dean was well aware that they were stuck in a hopeless situation and fighting back would only worsen their circumstances. He was not foolish enough to hope for escape and it seemed that even divine intervention in the form of their angels had abandoned them.
Dean could only imagine the horrors and nightmares that his future held in store for him. He was resigned, however fearfully, to his terrible fate. His only concern now was Sam; and hence, damage control.
Protect Sam. It was the only thought revolving around his skull. Protect Sam. But this self-imposed task was not being benefited by Sam insulting and back-talking their captors. It was probably too late to save him, now that he was in Alistair's clutches again. But he couldn't give up on saving Sam. He had to fight, he had to stay strong, he had save Sam. He had to.
Just as he thought, Sam's opinion was not appreciated by anyone and one of Sam's captor hit him hard across his face. Dean's heart skipped a beat as he saw Sam colliding with the floor, a bloody streak scarring his face. His vulnerability, his sheer helplessness dawned on him. What could he do? How could he help; tied and captive as he was? He couldn't do anything. He couldn't save Sam. He was helpless…hopeless…powerless…useless…
His heart swelled with pride and pain as he watched Sam pull himself up and glare at Alistair defiantly. Never one to give up, his little brother wasn't going down without a fight.
'But is that a good thing?' Dean was forced to contemplate as he watched his beaten brother.. 'Or will it only make things even more difficult and painful for his brother?'
Sam's bloody form called out to him, asking questions that he hadn't dare answer before. Was fighting back worth it? Was it worth Sam's blood, and possibly his life? What was the use of fighting? It wouldn't save him from hell. It certainly wouldn't save Sam. Wouldn't their defiance only cause them more pain?
He himself could endure the pain for the satisfaction of a witty retort. He had done so in his initial years in hell; accepting additional pain that could have been avoided but for his defiance and his verbal insults. He had taken great pleasure in disobeying and rebelling, not minding the torture it cost him.
But now…but now he had Sam to consider. It was one thing for him to tolerate pain, but a wholly another thing for Sam to have to do so. For Sam to endure pain…especially when Dean could have prevented it…it was wrong…unacceptable…intolerable. He wouldn't let it happen. He couldn't!
As much pride he took in his little brother's strength and resilience, it couldn't outweigh the guilt and suffering of his heart. Protect Sam. It was his sole purpose in life. He had to protect Sam.
Right now, protecting Sam meant surrender. And he would gladly do anything to protect his little brother. He would happily swallow his pride and be submissive, passive and obedient. He would protect Sam…even if Sam hated his decision to give up. He would protect Sam.
Decision made, Dean pulled out of his thoughts and looked at his former Master. He had believed his resurrection to be a miraculous chance to redeem himself. His redemption was gone. All that was left was a desperate man's desire to save the last remnant of his beloved family.
Alistair scrutinized the calm, resigned expression in Dean's eyes and smiled at the immense possibilities that adorned his future. He looked forward to breaking and shattering the man in front of him. He looked forward to regaining his prized protégé. He looked forward to the undying power that was within his reach. Yes, his future was brighter than any blazing hell-fire could ever hope to be.
"Well, it seems that we are at crossroads. I have every intention, I assure you, of extracting vengeance for all the trouble you Winchester boys have caused me. But my quandary is, where to start? My naïve apprentice who betrayed me, or the beloved brother that caused him to do so?" Alistair punctuated his speech with a contemplative sigh.
Dean bristled at the implications. "This is between you and me, Alistair." Dean announced with more confidence than he felt. "I betrayed you. I'm the traitor. Leave Sam out of this."
"Oh, but why would I do that, my dear boy, when even the thought of me laying my hands on your brother makes you suffer so wonderfully?" Alistair questioned with undisguised amusement.
Dean shivered in fright, knowing fully well that he was helpless to prevent Alistair's designs. He tore through his brain, searching for some remedy, some answer that would resolve his predicament and save his brother. But he inevitably came up empty.
"Then again," Alistair continued. "I have missed you, my prodigal apprentice. And I do admit that I have been looking forward to our reunion."
Dean sagged with relief and nodded to show his acceptance. What he did not anticipate was his troublesome, little brother trying to ruin his plans again.
"No. No that's enough." Sam exploded in a burst of desperation. "You've done enough damage to my brother, Alistair. Please. Leave him alone. Take me. Please. Don't hurt him again."
"SAM! SHUT UP!" Dean cried in alarm. But as usual, Sam ignored him.
"Please. Don't do this…"
"SAM! NO!"
"As touching as this scene is, Sam Winchester, I don't think I will." Alistair smiled coldly and then gestured the guards to take the struggling, younger Winchester away.
"NO…DEAN!" Sam cried, tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry Sam. But it's the only way." Dean availed one last glance at his flailing brother as Sam was dragged out of the room and then the doors shut with a terrifying bang.
With fear and terror running through his veins, Dean finally turned to face the cheerfully smirking demon.
AN: So what do you think? There's a lot in store for the brothers!
Also, if anyone is interested, I've been slipping in some clues about a major plot twist in the past few chapters. If anyone has guessed it yet, I'd love to hear it! (If you've got some suspicions to share, I request you to PM me because I don't want to spoil the surprise for others)