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 8
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When the shaking leveled off and his vision cleared, Dean finally stood up. He used the sink for leverage and took a moment to splash water on his face. He looked at himself, decided he might live despite the deathly complexion and returned to the main room.
Audrey gave Bobby a friendly pat on the arm then brushed against him as she passed. Dean reminded himself to ask Bobby about their past.
"I'm sorry to put you through that, Dean. But, now I'm sure that you've been put under a spell. It's a very powerful one. I'm sure the witch used some herbs along with incantations. She probably needed a blood sacrifice too. Most likely a cat or a rabbit but it could have been a goat or a calf depending on what she had available."
"Not a human," Dean said, needing to be sure.
"No, probably not. Witches don't normally sacrifice people. Animal sacrifices are far easier. I won't be able to figure out exactly what concoction of herbs and plants but I'm sure the witch used acacia, grass dragon and ginseng. Probably some other ingredients as well."
"Shouldn't there be a hex bag someplace to keep the spell active?"
"Not in this case. In effect, you are the hex bag. She took away an important part of who you are and then replaced it with a conditioning that makes your body violently reject all attempts to return that part to you."
"But, you can fix it," Dean said.
"I think so."
A knock on the door interrupted them. Bobby held up a hand and looked through the peep hole. He opened up quickly to Irv Franklin. Dean had met the other hunter a couple of times but had never worked with him. He towered over Bobby by a few inches and had the razor stubble and ball cap that reminded Dean of most hunters. He took his hat off revealing dark, black hair and shook Bobby's hand.
"Thanks for coming," Bobby said.
"I was close. No problem giving you a hand," Irv said.
"You remember Dean Winchester?"
"Sure, of course," Irv said and shook Dean's hand too.
"And this is Audrey Mitchell. She's helping us out."
"Audrey," Irv said in way of greeting then turned back to Bobby. "You figured out where the other one is yet?"
Bobby cringed and threw a quick look at Dean. Dean just looked back, not understanding.
"I'm pretty sure I know where, just don't know what we're up against yet. How about we talk about that outside?" Bobby said.
He left the room with Irv following. Dean stood up to go too but Audrey stopped him.
"That conversation isn't for you. Have a seat and let's get started."
"What other one?" Even as Dean asked he felt the first spike of pain in his head. Not as intense as the last one but it was a warning.
"Let's concentrate on something else. Will you lay down, please? On your back."
Dean shrugged and stretched out on the bed. Audrey took the crystal necklace from around her neck and held it above him. She spoke slowly and gently. Dean felt the pull of sleep. He had never been hypnotized before and didn't think it was possible. From the way he understood it, the subject needed to be open to suggestion. Dean questioned everything. He needed explanations and concrete information.
As Audrey's voice grew distant, it took on an echo quality that made Dean feel like he had fallen down a hole. From that far away place he watched her stand up and light some incense. She dropped some stones on the bed beside him. Dean just stayed in that weird tunnel that she left him in and watched dispassionately while she performed her ritual.
She returned to his side. She gathered his hand in hers and he felt something hard and cold against his palm. She spoke again, saying words that didn't make sense.
A fresh pulsing pain started pushing at Dean's brain. He pushed back, determined not to let it stop them. As the intensity grew, he found himself wanting to fight Audrey. He stiffened with the wash of agony spreading from his neck to his limbs. He started to roll away from her but she gripped him. Her fingers dug into his upper arm. Dean could hear the wind moaning around him but it didn't make any sense until he realized he was hearing himself. Heat filled him, starting to burn from the inside and he fought harder to escape. He thought he might get away when more hands joined hers in holding him down.
"Stop," he said. He gave the order all the strength he could but it wasn't much and she didn't stop.
Finally she looked down at him. Her pupils had blown wide taking all but the white with them. Not demon black, just scary black. Her face was inches from his as she started talking with slow, deliberate words.
"Sam Winchester. Younger . Remember, Dean. Sam Winchester. Little best friend. Dean, picture him. Your little brother. Remember when he was a baby. Come on, Dean, see him when he was a baby."
The image that floated up almost made Dean scream with the bolt of pain it brought. But, he saw it. A small, bundle of squalling baby holding his tiny hands out. A little face bundled in a knit hat and blanket tucked into a car seat in the Impala. A bottle extended from Dean's hand to the mouth that sucked on it greedily while his fingers touched Dean's.
"That's good. You can see the baby, can't you? How about a little bit older? Can you see him starting kindergarten? Hair too long, big eyes looking to you for advice, for support?"
In his mind's eye, Dean looked from his father to a little boy between them. The boy smiled as he let Dean's hand go. The boy dressed in thrift store jeans and hoodie hugged Dean's father before he ran off in the direction of the other children.
"It's Sam. You do remember, don't you? Your brother, Sam?"
Dean jerked up when his brain decided to implode. He cried out, sure that gray liquid was oozing out of his ears. There was no way his head could take a pop from the inside and not destroy itself. But, the pain only grew worse. He cried out again and tried to twist away from all the hands holding him.
"Don't give up, Dean," Audrey said. "Stay with me. What did Sam look like when he left for college? Come on, Dean, remember your brother, what did he look like? Was his hair curly? Was it hard to say good bye?"
"If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back."
Dean heard his father's voice from the living room. Dean stood in the kitchen with fists clenched, hearing his family break up, hearing the end.
"Don't worry. All I want is to be free of this, of you," Sam said.
Dean felt gutted. Sam wanted to be away from their father and away from him. He was leaving them both behind. He wanted to go out there, to stop them, to talk some sense into them. He wanted to save their family but he didn't. He couldn't face watching Sam walk out. So, he stayed in the kitchen and listened to the front door slam shut.
"Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days."
"Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside."
Dean stopped writhing on the bed. Weakly he stared at the three faces above him. They looked blurry but he'd recognize Bobby anytime. He blinked, surprised when a tear streamed down his face.
"Sam," Dean said. Panic started to surge. "Where's Sam?"
Bobby nodded towards Audrey and Irv and the two of them moved away. Dean didn't care where they went.
"Where's Sam, Bobby?"
"Do you remember him? Everything?"
"Oh my God," Dean said. "Bobby, I…that was the big thing. Sam was the thing I forgot? How could I…oh my God."
"Settle down. It was a spell. Someone made you forget."
"How could I forget Sam? I didn't miss picking him up at Kindergarten when I was ten. How could I forget him now?"
"You were under a spell."
Dean lifted up slowly. He pushed back to lean against the headboard and rubbed his eyes. Drained and sick, he worried he might try to vomit again.
"I need you to try and remember everything that's happened since you got to town."
"Go slow, Bobby," Audrey said. "We got lucky that he didn't have a full on stroke. So, don't push."
Dean rubbed his eyes again. Her comment sent a jolt through him. Had he almost died?
"Do you still have a headache?" Bobby said.
"No, not really," Dean said.
"How about your stomach?"
"I'm fine."
"Good. Then tell me what you remember from the last time you saw Sam." Bobby glanced at Audrey. "And if you start to feel sick, then tell me, or stop. "
"I don't know, God…" I forgot Sam, I forgot Sam, I forgot Sam.
"Dean," Bobby said. His stern voice, his "don't be an idgit" voice, his "you're a moron" voice all came from that one word.
"Okay," Dean said. "Okay, we moved out of a motel and went to one of those big chains, um, Holiday Inn. We stayed the night figuring we'd head to Cayuga after Sam got a chance to rest. He got away from them before but he had to jump out of a van so, I was worried. He wouldn't wait around though, had to get right back out there."
"Yeah, I know your brother," Bobby said.
"So, we went to get some food and then, I don't know, we were in an elevator maybe, something happened. When I woke up here I started looking for a hunt. I found the attacks in the woods and I decided it was probably a job. I just, I don't remember anything in between."
"Dean," Audrey said. "You were probably mostly unconscious when the spell was cast. The witch didn't need cooperation from you."
Dean looked at Bobby. "I don't know where Sam is."
"I think he's at the Gleason estate."
Dean nodded and scooted off the bed. When he stood, the room tilted to one side. Irv grabbed his arm. Dean yanked it back.
"I'm fine," he said with a growl.
"Whatever you say, boy," Irv said.
"Look, the only thing I was waiting for is intel," Bobby said."Now, it's time to go get your brother."
Dean found a shirt to replace the sweat soaked one he was wearing. He put on his socks and boots and grabbed his jacket. Bobby walked Audrey to her car. When he came back, Dean was ready to leave.
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Sam grew tired of turning his head from one side to the other to avoid the photographs. He ached from lying in one position. He preferred focusing on those discomforts though. He needed the distraction because behind all of that was the hard beating of his heart, the churning of his stomach and the buzz of adrenaline along his limbs.
He had been alone for a long time. No one had come to talk to him since Foster left.
A stray thought that he knew he should ignore had planted itself in his brain. The roots of it constricted his breathing and made him dizzy. The bloom threatened to push everything else out of his mind.
They weren't coming back.
Sam imagined dying in this small room, bound to the bed, alone and helpless and just wasting away. Two, three, four days maybe of just being alone while thirst robbed him of his sanity then his life. He'd never see Dean again. He'd never speak with another person again. No good-byes or confessions to make his passing meaningful. He'd just cease being. The regret and anger would make him a ghost. He knew he'd never cross over to the next stage, if there was a next stage. He'd stay and grow crazy and then, maybe, Dean would come…or Bobby. Some hunter would burn his remains and he'd be nothing.
Because, they weren't coming back.
Sam shook his head. He needed to dislodge that thought. There was nothing there but fear and pain and he fought to stay away from it. But, his heart thumped too fast and cold tendrils kept racing through his skin.
Sam took a long breath but it didn't begin to help. He was going to die here.
When the door to the room squeaked open, Sam's spirit rose with gratitude. He hated himself for it but a visitor, any visitor was better than the terror of dying alone.
Foster and Bentley walked across the threshold. Bentley stayed near the open door. Beyond him, Sam could see the hall. He wanted to be in that hall more than anything.
"I got to thinking," Foster said. "You seem awfully comfortable lying here. Sure, you smell like piss but you're just…lying here."
"Untie me. I'll do more," Sam said.
"I have a better idea. How about a challenge instead?"
Sam wrestled back his fear. "Did you bring a puzzle?"
Foster looked back at Bentley. "He's a funny guy." Then back to Sam. "Not quite."
Foster stared at Sam. Sam watched him too, waiting, scared of what he might do. He felt like he was being surveyed or studied. Foster never shied away from causing as much pain as possible and Sam remained tense for whatever sadistic action Foster would perform.
"You know, I've seen your x-rays. Doctor Langstrom pointed out a couple of old breaks that had nothing to do with our time together. You're used to broken bones, aren't you?"
"Don't really get used to it," Sam said. Fear laced his tone. He was sure Foster could hear the growing anxiety.
"Richard never allowed me to hear your bones snap. He never wanted that kind of damage. Takes too long to heal and if it's never taken care of there are all sorts of deformities that can happen."
Deformities. Sam's barren mouth dried even more. Foster was just crazy enough to cripple him and there was nothing Sam could do to stop him.
Foster walked to the door and put his hand on something that Sam couldn't see. But, Sam knew what it was even before Foster taunted him with it. The knobbed, wooden stick, just slightly thicker than a baseball bat fit in Foster's hand like it was another appendage. It was Foster's weapon of choice. He had beaten Sam with it so often that it was likely stained with his blood.
Terror strangled Sam with the sight of it.
"Please don't," he said. He hated himself for begging but he couldn't stop. "Not again. Please."
Foster flipped the stick in his hand, caught the opposite end and drew back in a batter's stance. He brought it around hard, slamming it into Sam's forearm. The only thing that hid the crack of snapping bone was Sam's scream. His mangled arm dangled in the leather cuff. At first shock took away any pain but then it blossomed and sang agony through his limb. With his arm suspended he could feel the bone moving, ends scraping against each other inside his skin.
Bentley pushed Foster. He didn't speak, just shoved until they were both in the hall and then closed and locked the door.
Sam could barely see through blurred eyes. Darkness pushed into him as shock and pain won out over consciousness.