A/N: Shorter chapter this time, but I like where it leaves off. Who tied up Sam?! Oh yeah, I did ;D
For a month, he wandered. Through dense sulfurous clouds, so thick he might have been blind. The ground was alive, snapping and crackling under his feet. It shifted treacherously as if it wasn't totally solid. Like the thin layer of grit and ash was merely a skin, with blood boiling underneath.
He called Dean's name, and was answered with unintelligible whispers and ghostly shrieks.
He lost track of time somewhere in the murky twilight zone of the inferno. His mouth shrunk to a puckered button. The fever heat rose, causing the featureless landscape to flicker in a liquid dance. A smoky figure swirled before him, reaching out an effervescent hand to trace his scar.
"He issss here," it crooned in a voice that sizzled and snapped.
Sam grunted, trying to force his mutilated lips to form words. But the smoke-shape wrapped a tendril around his tongue. It tasted of blood.
"Our prince hassss arrived," the thing screeched in a parody of joy before vanishing in a puff of foul air.
They found him soon after that. A circle of demons, whips in hand. He glanced from face to face. Their true demonic forms were twisted and blackened, with no eyes but gaping wide grins that stretched across their cheeks, curling upwards at the end in a carnal leer. Their limbs were blunt and misshapen; nubby hands, missing fingers, even one with its legs welded together like an obscene mermaid. None of them felt like Dean. In a manner of minutes, his wrists and feet were bound with harsh leather. The demons cackled about promotions and rewards as they marched, a hand occasionally darting out to touch his hair or stroke his chest.
More than once Dean considered placing a pillow over the thing's nose and mouth, holding down until the tortured mewling stopped. Until its limbs ceased their restless, jerky movements and lay still.
He went so far as to finger the rough, worn seams of Bobby's throw. Then he'd remember he needed answers. If he ever wakes up. And the desperate, pleading voice on the other end of the line. He trusts me.
Besides, he didn't know if it was even possible to murder an angel with cotton and batting.
So instead, he'd pick up another washcloth and wipe down its sweaty brow or page through Bobby's research. Looking for something, anything that might lead him to Sam.
Night and day bled together. It continued to moan and thrash; breathing in ragged pants, occasionally calling out in a foreign tongue. Dean drank. Tried to forget the boy that had once lived in that body. He's long dead by now.
Feathers appeared. On the floor, in the folds of the blanket. Dean couldn't tell where they were coming from, but they were limp and lifeless, turning to dust when he touched them. He wondered if the body on the couch would eventually do the same.
The upper-level demons were more beautiful. And terrifying. With delicate, porcelain features and sharp, pointy teeth. They gazed at him with round, black eyes and sardonic smirks. Sam felt like a cow at auction. He was still bound; a leather halter around his neck, held proudly by one of the underlings, his wrists and ankles chained together. He glared back at them with all his might, though his angry shouting had been stopped by a filthy gag.
"I don't suppose you'll make this easy, will you?" sighed one, twirling her golden locks around her finger, as if Sam was merely an annoyance. She motioned for the gag to be removed.
"What the hell do need me for? Where's Dean?" He spat.
The demon froze, looking down her nose at him. "We were going to ask you the same thing. It's Dean we need, not you. And someone, or something sprung him out of here." Her eyes narrowed, "and you expect us to believe that you had nothing to do with that?"
A small, wet cough from behind interrupted her. "Pardon me, madame," and oily voice drawled, "If you feel the boy is lying, perhaps I could be of service? With my particular… set of skills-"
"Shut up, Alistair," she snapped, rubbing her temples. "You know he has to stay whole. I am not giving the boss an excuse to take it out of my ass once he's free."
A tall, gaunt man emerged from the shadows. His face had a skeletal quality, with deep eye sockets and an empty grin.
He sidled up to the woman, leaning in to get a closer look at Sam. He smelled like a corpse.
"I'm afraid it may already be too late for that, Lilith." His nasal, reedy speech made the hairs on the back of Sam's neck prickle instinctively. "I mean, you had the Righteous Man safe and locked away in Hell. This one…" Alistair took another step closer, bent down and sniffed deeply, tickling Sam's cheek. He let out a contented sigh. "Mmmm yes, chock full of demon blood," he whispered in Sam's ear with the sickeningly sweet breath of a dead man. "Far too… tainted to break the first seal."
Rage welled in Sam. He was sick of being a pawn in games he didn't even begin to understand. And now Dean's part of it all too? Had they been waiting for him to make a deal all along? His stomach dropped. Was Dad's injury back then more than just a coincidence?
He thought about Dean, noble and obedient to the letter. How he sacrificed everything, just so the Winchester family unit could limp a long together for a few more years.
Then he thought about himself. Freak. Runaway. The look in Dean's eyes when- Dad said I might have to kill you, Sammy.
"I can see those little wheels in your head turning," Alistair wheedled. "Hate me all you want but, let's face it. You always were less than your brother."
Something within Sam snapped. He could feel it inside his bones; unbinding, expanding. He whipped his head around as fast as he could and sank his teeth into Alistair's ear. He felt the cartilage crunch as the demon howled and tore away, leaving Sam with a large chunk of flesh dangling from his lips.
The gag was crammed mercilessly back into his mouth as Alistair's shrieks turned to wild laughter.
"That's it, sonny!" He crowed. "Can you feel that heat? Ohh yes, excellent," he wiped his eyes with a bloodied hand. "We are going to have so much fun together."
"We're not done with you," Lilith hissed, grasping the back of Sam's neck. Sam felt white-hot fire bloom in his veins before he sank into unconsciousness.