Another wee update.

Nothing is owned by me.

Chapter 35

Sam was thinking.

First things first, he didn't believe the demon bitch or whatever was inside the girl that Dean was dead. He was probably looking for him, getting pissed off that he had managed to

get himself into trouble.

"Your brother is dead?"

Yeah, right. Nothing can kill Dean. He was sure of that.

He knew he had to escape. That was the first thing on his list. He would have to get out of this and get to dad or someone that could help him. There was no point in making any

noise. That would bring an innocent person into here and probably to their death.

And the bitch knew it. She was leaning on the arm of the chair, watching him with a smile on her face. Sam was getting annoyed with this whole less being less than healthy thing. He

was itching to be able to be able to get up out of the bed and do some damage.

He closed his eyes.

"You are very quiet, aren't you?"

Sam didn't answer. He was willing his arms to move and his fists to clench. There was nothing.

"Are you not curious as to how he died?" Her voice was silky now. Sam stiffened but didn't open his eyes nor answer her.

"He is dead," she whispered, correctly reading his tense posture. "I am not lying about that. I gave him a drug, an unusual and nifty little drug that would discreetly lower his heart rate. It would lower heart rate and less oxygen getting into the body and up to the brain. I had added by own, special little concoction. By the end he would be chocking in his own

blood. He would have been in so much pain that he would be begging to die. Begging to go to his mommy."

"SHUT UP!"

Meg smiled, happy to have gotten a reaction. She widened her smile when she saw him glaring at her, unable to move. She got up and walked across the room, bending down and

whispering into his ear,

"It's good to know that there's some fight still left in you. You'll need it. Trust me on that."

The door opened and a pool of artificial, unnatural light fell on Sam. Sam wasn't facing the door. He couldn't turn to look.

"Oh sorry," the newcomer, a woman, said. "I thought that this room was empty. I was told that it was empty."

Meg stood up and shot Sam a smile. He knew what was coming.

"No." He managed.

"What, Sam?"

"We are going to move soon. X ray. We should be leaving soon."

Meg hesitated and gave Sam a long look. He looked back desperately. "Don't." he mouthed. Meg narrowed her eyes, "Please." He conceded.

Ten minutes later.

She was moving him. It must have been her idea of joke. She was taking the long road to the car park, through the crowded halls and wards. She knew, after the near miss in the

room, he wouldn't say anything. He could practically feel her smile as she wheeled him. She had him on a wheelchair, wrapped up in a blanket. He was still struggling with the effects

of the drugs. Under the blanket he was cuffed to the arm of the chair.

They were at the elevator, waiting for the doors to open. She was actually so comfortable she had started to hum. The doors tinged open,

"Bobby."