Stubborn Survival: Gleason's Revenge
By: Coffeemaniac
Set between 2006-2007. John Winchester has been dead a few months. It's been eight weeks since Sam was kidnapped by Mark Foster and Richard Gleason
Rated M for violence, torture, mentions of child abuse, and mentions of child sexual abuse. The violence and torture are fairly graphic, the other things are not.
Reviews are welcome and encouraged.
Part 3
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Wednesday-Day Two
The witching hour descended over their new room. Sam slept restlessly, flailing his arms and moving his legs but still, he was sleeping. When he woke in the Impala he'd been angry and disoriented. Dean had used his best "Dad" tone to settle him down. Once Sam recognized his surroundings he calmed down but he couldn't remember a lot of the details of his kidnapping and escape. Dean had found a sizeable bump on the back of Sam's head. He knew that concussions and trauma can lead to memory loss so he didn't panic at the threads of amnesia. He expected that once Sam was rested, he'd remember more.
The first thing he needed to do was find a place to hold up for a while so he had gathered their belongings from the first motel and then drove them fifty miles in the opposite direction and found another place to stay. He used a shiny new credit card to book them into a Holiday Inn knowing that no one would expect them to stay at a decent place. Then he'd woken Sam up and helped him lurch his way inside.
Once he managed to get his brother into bed, Dean retrieved their duffle bags and settled in. He planned to stay there for at least a day while Sam recovered from his concussion, scrapes and bruises.
After Sam was safely sleeping, Dean phoned Bobby.
"I got him. He's beat up, has a goose egg on his head, nothing new."
"I know your Daddy liked to downplay injuries, son, but skulls are tricky. He might seem just fine one minute and throw a clot the next."
"Well, thank you, Bobby, for that ray of sunshine."
"I'm just saying to keep a close eye."
"I will, don't worry. But, Foster got him in the hospital the last time and I'm not taking any chances."
"Yeah, well speaking of that bucket of slime, he got out on bond just a little after we left town. He showed up for his arraignment and then he up and disappeared. His lawyer made an official missing persons report a few days ago."
"Great. That's just perfect. He kidnaps and tortures kids and he kidnapped and tortured Sam and they just let him out? Great freaking justice system we have there."
"I know, but, what's done is done. Do you know what he wanted with Sam?"
"Not yet. Sam's pretty out of it. He remembered Foster being there but couldn't tell me why. I'll try again in the morning."
"Dean, I'm in the middle of a poltergeist thing but I'll head in your direction as soon as I can."
"I appreciate it but I think we're okay for now. I'll call you if we get into trouble."
"Don't you mean when?"
Dean smiled. "You're really knocking 'em out of the park tonight, aren't you?"
"I've been known to be a decent wit from time to time."
"Maybe half," Dean said and chuckled at himself.
"Easy there, son. I can still put you over my knee."
Dean laughed and disconnected the call. He slipped the phone into his pocket before sitting on Sam's bed. His brother shifted on to one side, facing in Dean's direction and curled his legs up.
"I'm sorry," Sam said. His voice sounded small and young. He twisted on to his back.
"Not again," he said before quieting down and slipping into a deeper sleep.
Dean put his hand on Sam's arm, hoping the weight and heat would offer some kind of comfort. Whatever Sam had been dreaming about, it was troubling.
Dean moved to the other bed and scooted down to get comfortable. He used the television remote and started skimming channels. He stopped on a movie featuring Dennis Quaid and a bunch of people trapped in the desert after a plane crash. It looked like it was just getting started so Dean figured it would kill a couple of hours.
Dean jerked awake in time to see the finale and then the credits roll. He rubbed his eyes and got up. He checked on Sam who seemed to be sleeping more peacefully then padded his way into the bathroom. When he came out he found Sam sitting up straight and breathing hard.
"You all right?" Dean said.
Sam looked at him for a second or two before awareness kicked in.
"Yeah, I'm…nightmare, I guess."
"You've been fighting them since we got here. What's going on?"
Sam flopped on to his back and threw his arm over his eyes. "I can't believe that psycho is back."
"He jumped bail."
"How'd he get bail?"
"Don't know. But, uh, at least we have a heads up now. No surprises."
Sam didn't respond to that. He rubbed his eyes and groaned softly.
"Jesus, did something run me over?"
"Apparently just leaping out of a moving vehicle can mess you up pretty good, Sammy."
Sam grunted his acknowledgement.
Dean sat on the opposite bed. "So, how are you feeling?"
"Hungry. Thirsty. I have to pee."
"Sounds about right."
Sam turned around and put his feet on the floor. He looked around the room then looked at Dean.
"A little fancy for us, isn't it?" Sam said as he stood up.
"Life's not all mystery stains and skeevy smells."
Sam made an unsteady path to the bathroom and closed the door. After the toilet flushed, the shower started so Dean decided to pull out the laptop and look into the Gleason estate. He hadn't confirmed the destination with Sam yet but Dean was fairly certain that Foster was taking Sam there. Dean wanted to know if it was deserted or occupied and Foster's connection to it.
Fifteen minutes later, Sam emerged, wrapped in a towel and looking healthier. He still needed more sleep and, truth be told, Dean could use it too. He had taken some ibuprofen for his headache but it had worn off some time earlier. He felt ragged from the multiple adrenaline rushes but morning was just starting to peer through the motel window and he didn't expect to get any sleep.
Sam jutted his chin towards the computer. "Find anything?"
"Maybe. The Gleason property is still in probate but a relative moved in a few weeks after the police cleaned it out."
"So there are some left."
"Well, the males are all dead but, apparently Richard has a past indiscretion. She's twenty three and he's been paying for her upkeep. He listed her as his only heir. She's been away at Georgetown going to school but she graduated and then Dad died so she came back to get her inheritance."
"Where's her mother?"
"Haven't gotten that far."
"You look like hell," Sam said.
"Thanks for that."
"Have you been up all night?"
"Most of it. Fell asleep watching a movie. There was a guy in it, reminded me of you."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Cried a killed early in."
Sam gave a weak chuckle while he pawed through his duffle and pulled out clean clothes.
"We got to do laundry," he said.
"This place has a laundry room and a restaurant. You feel up to some breakfast?"
Sam pulled out a plastic baggy containing a few different bottles. He opened the bag, took out a white plastic bottle and shook some pills into his hand. He dry swallowed them then took his clothes back into the bathroom.
Dean took his non-answer as an affirmative to food. He wasn't worried about getting cleaned up just yet so he pulled on his boots and packed up the laptop.
When Sam emerged again, he looked halfway human and Dean figured they wouldn't get ejected from any public places.
"What's the girl's name?" Sam asked the question as they entered the nearest elevator.
"Alice James. Apparently they call her AJ."
"Is James her last name?"
"No, middle. Her last name is Gleason."
"So, Richard gets some woman pregnant, doesn't marry her but the kid gets his last name and financial support. I wonder if they ever spent time together."
"I don't think we're going to find that on the internet."
"Maybe social media. I'll see if she has a MySpace account."
"The 'not porn'," Dean said, remembering Sam's explanation of MySpace. "She's also named after Richard's father, James."
"So, Richard definitely wasn't denying her existence. I'll bet they had some sort of a relationship."
"Seems like someone in Cayuga would've mentioned it when I was looking for you."
"Yeah, well, we'll find out."
They entered the restaurant with Dean leading the way to the hostess stand. An older woman with thick wrinkles and gray hair greeted them. The layout of the restaurant reminded Dean of Denny's or Biggerson's or Village Inn. A few booths along the walls, a big dining room filled with tables and all of it sitting on worn carpet.
The hostess pointed towards a small table near the bathrooms and said that a waitress would be around to take their order. Then she put her hand on Sam's arm and looked at him like he needed mothering.
"You look a little peaked, young man. Maybe a bit more sleep, hmm?"
Sam shrugged and smiled before he made his way towards the table. Dean followed thinking that his brother did look like hell and the old woman had an excellent point about getting more sleep.
Sam pulled out a chair and sat down automatically facing the entrance while Dean positioned himself to face the side door exit. Dean glanced around looking for anyone who might be a threat but the only people in the restaurant were three different families with children, and a couple that was likely newlywed.
Dean opened the menu and decided on something called the "Triple Meat" that came with eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage and ham. While Sam continued staring into his menu, the waitress arrived and introduced herself as Champagne. Dean stopped to confirm the name on her pin before he ordered coffee for him and Sam, then added orange juice for Sam too because he figured the vitamins would do him good.
Champagne smiled revealing a slight gap in teeth that looked too big for her mouth. Her bobbed black hair was heavily greased so it lay flat against her skull. With pale skin and red-painted fingernails, Dean felt a vague urge to find a machete.
Champagne promised to be right back with their drinks. Dean watched her scurry back to the kitchen while Sam finally put the menu down.
A few minutes later, Champagne returned to deliver the coffee and juice. Sam ordered a vegetable omelet while Dean ordered his early heart attack.
"She kind of looks like a vampire," Sam said, nodding towards their waitress.
"I don't think we can cut her head off in here," Dean said.
Sam didn't react to the joke and Dean knew that he'd stopped listening almost as soon as Dean started speaking.
"Foster thought I'd be able to bring Gleason back again," Sam said.
"What happened when you told him you couldn't?"
"He didn't like the answer. But, uh, he told his friends to take me to the house. He must have meant Gleason's."
"Yeah, that's what I figured too. I was heading there when I found you on the road."
Sam sat back and folded his arms. "Going back there wasn't going to happen."
"So, jumping out of a moving vehicle, that seemed like a better idea."
"Yeah, actually," Sam said then smiled."Foster said there was someone there who wanted to meet me. Could it be Gleason's daughter? I mean, why?"
"Tomorrow, I think we should take a little trip to Cayuga and find out, don't you?"
"Not tomorrow. We should go today, as soon as possible. I jumped that van. They're going to expect me to call the cops. They'll clear out."
Dean nodded, considering the possibility, but discarding it quickly.
"She doesn't have a reason to run. You don't have any proof that Foster was going to take you there. My guess is he's in the wind so she'll just sit tight, deny everything and wait us out."
"You don't know that."
"Nope, but she's got a big house, money and a shiny college degree from Georgetown. It's a lot of reasons to feel safe."
Champagne returned with their food. She was quick and efficient. She didn't linger or try to make conversation which was good because Dean wasn't interested in talking to her.
Sam pushed his omelet around with a fork. "Why wait?"
"Because I'm tired and my head hurts."
"I'll drive."
"Okay, you're tired and your head hurts."
"Since when do we let a couple of bumps stop us from a hunt?"
"Bobby said you could throw a clot."
"He said what?"
"A day won't matter."
"It matters to me. I want to know what's going on. I can't believe you don't."
"It's a day."
"I'm going with or without you."
Dean sighed loudly. He made sure that Sam and most of the patrons heard him. He mixed some egg into his hash browns and took a bite, chewed, swallowed and glared at his brother.
"Fine, Sam, we'll just drive straight into the storm. Who needs research or information when we have concussions and righteous indignation?"
"We've done more with less."
Dean just glared. They were professionals. They knew how to work a job. And this wasn't it. Plus, Bobby said that Sam could throw a clot.
Sam leaned forward and cut a piece of his omelet with cheese, broccoli and onion oozing out the side. He forked it and brought it to his mouth then frowned and put it back on the plate.
"What's wrong with you?" Dean's question sounded like an order but he didn't care.
"Not hungry."
"Yeah, because you're nauseous, because you got whacked in the head and jumped out of a truck."
"All right, Dean, enough, I get it. I hear you. Fine, we'll give it a few hours. Drive out tonight after dark. But, that's it. As soon as it's dark, I want to be on the road."
Dean didn't respond. No matter what response it would sound condescending or smug so he drank coffee instead.
Sam picked up the orange juice and drained it before sipping at his coffee. He didn't touch his breakfast again.
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Sam pressed the elevator button while he checked his pocket for the room key. He felt the hard plastic of the card against his fingers and felt vaguely relieved. For some reason, he always worried that he wouldn't have the key to get back in their various rooms. He guessed it had something to do with his father's multiple admonishments to make sure he had a key for whenever he was leaving to go to school or just out. He got in the habit of periodically checking for the key, just to make sure.
Dean stood beside him waiting for the elevator doors to slide open. A dark bruise started from someplace under his hairline and splashed out across his cheek and chin. As far as injuries go, it didn't look too serious but it reminded Sam of the previous night.
Mark Foster hired security and actors to arrange for Sam's fake arrest. It seemed like a lot of trouble to go to just to find out that Sam couldn't help him anyway. Or was bringing back Richard Gleason just a side job, maybe the real mission was to get Sam back to the Gleason mansion.
Sam wondered if they were completely wrong. Maybe Foster didn't mean that Sam should be taken to the estate in Cayuga and to Alice James Gleason. Maybe she had nothing to do with any of it. Some other cohort of Foster and Gleason could have a motive for wanting Sam. But, that seemed more far-fetched than the fake cops.
No, Sam learned early that where there's smoke, there's fire.
The elevator doors slid open a moment after the floor indicator dinged. Sam walked inside with Dean beside him. They were alone as they made the trip to their floor. Dean had taken his phone out and was scrolling through numbers though Sam didn't know who he was planning to call. It could be Bobby or Ellen, maybe even Jo, but Sam couldn't think of anyone else his brother would be reaching out to.
When the elevator doors slid open again, Sam found himself staring at the same group of fake cops that had kidnapped him the night before. They were dressed about the same although Sam noticed that there was no orange pack hanging off any of them. Sam felt like they were all moving in a slow motion blur as he punched the man nearest to him. As he dove full force into the battle, he could hear Dean doing the same. Punches and kicks were thrown. Sam took a hard hit to the side of his head that put him down on one knee for a moment then he surged back up with a hard thrust into the man's abdomen.
Sam twisted and saw Dean's Colt laying a few feet away from him. He made a dive for it but a kick into his side threw him off course. Just as he skidded into the back wall of the elevator Dean landed next to him, bleeding from a head wound and just barely holding on to consciousness. Sam started up, surveying enough to see that three of their attackers were scattered and moaning on the ground. But one of the standouts drove a knee into Sam's cheek. Pain flared along his jaw knocking him senseless before a crushing blow to the back of his neck sent him into oblivion.