Shadows From the Dim Hereafter

By: CoffeeManiac

Not Slash. Rated T for some mature content.

Warnings: Violence. Hints at sensitive subject matter. Lots of HurtSam. Some HurtDean. This story is not labeled as horror, however, towards the end, there are a couple of short, but fairly gruesome descriptions so, please be prepared.

A/N: Thank you to those who are "following" and making this story a "favorite". And a special thank you to those who have sent reviews. It makes my day brighter to see the interest in this story.

Part 4

Sam blinked a couple of times as he pushed himself off the cold floor. His head hurt again. His throat hurt too. He reached up to move hair out of his face and was surprised by the clanking of metal. He couldn't make sense of that so he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. When there was nothing there to rest against, he jerked forward and forced himself to look around. Frowning at his wrists, he found chains encircling them like handcuffs. At the base of the cuffs, a short lead attached to some weird metal belt around his waist. He followed the next link of metal down to his ankles which were also encircled. A shorter chain attached the ends to keep him from pulling his legs apart more than a few inches.

Understanding escaped him as he re-examined the contraption again. He twisted back and forth slowly trying to figure things out. He was sitting in the middle of a small, dank room with stone walls and a hard-packed dirt floor. Still wearing just a thin t-shirt and jeans, he shivered in the damp cold.

Webs and cobwebs hung from the corners and across the stones. He spotted a few spiders hovering there, as well as some insects that scurried along the creases.

A scratching noise led him to find a rat scurrying its way back and forth near the wall in a frenzied dance. Sam thought it might have been poisoned because of the way it was panicking.

The chains attached to his waist limited his ability to move but didn't restrain him, so he used the slack to get on to his knees and then slowly stand up. He was hunched over and hobbled but not secured to anything that would keep him in place.

He looked behind him to find another room. The entry way to it was carved out about three feet above the floor and there were no steps leading there. Sam guessed it was an old coal room from when the house was heated by a furnace. That thinking cemented his theory that he was in the basement of June's house.

To his right, he found a metal cot with no mattress, just a thin pillow lying on metal springs.

In front of him, Sam found three crumbling steps leading to a narrow platform that ended at a wooden door. That seemed like his best bet for escape.

He shuffled to the steps then climbed them slowly. With a shortened stride, he almost knocked himself over but caught his balance in time. He reached for the door handle and turned the knob only to find it locked which didn't surprise him but he couldn't help wondering what that meant. He had no idea why he was there and didn't remember much past seeing the frightened girl in the laundry room.

He wondered if Derek and June were dead or captured by whatever attacked the girl.

He didn't have lock picks with him or a credit card to slide into the slot. He didn't have a paperclip either, though he had just started learning to improvise and he wasn't as skilled as Dean at getting through locks with just anything that was handy.

The door itself was flimsy and made of cheap wood. He stepped back then rammed it with his full body weight. The impact sounded like thunder and the door shifted just a bit. Satisfied with his plan, Sam stepped back to try again. He didn't know what lay beyond the door or how much trouble he'd be in if he failed to get passed whoever locked him in. All he knew was that staying chained and locked up was not acceptable.

Just as he started to force the door again, he heard noise outside. It sounded like someone coming down the cement steps. Sam jumped off the platform and steadied himself for whatever fight might be necessary.

He breathed out in relief when June stepped into the room followed by Derek.

"Oh, thank God, I was afraid you guys were dead or something."

Derek bypassed June and jumped off the platform. He shoved Sam in the shoulder knocking him backward several steps.

"Stop with the door," Derek said. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to hang a door?"

"What?" Sam stuttered out as he regained his balance.

"Don't make me tie you down. It'll just make it harder on all of us."

"I don't…you guys…why?"

"Because you couldn't just stay in your room. Why do you think?"

"Derek," June interrupted. "There's no need to speak to him that way. He's just a boy and he doesn't understand."

Derek shook his head and scowled as June walked by him and up to Sam. She put her hand under the lead chain and against Sam's chest and started rubbing circles there.

"It's going to be all right, Sam, I'm going to take care of you."

Not liking the intimacy, Sam pulled away from her.

"What's going on?" He asked.

June frowned for a moment then her smile returned.

"The girl that you saw is a monster, Sam. Derek and I are trying to cure her. But, we know that other hunters won't understand so we don't talk about it."

Sam shook his head. "What kind of monster? She looks like an ordinary girl. And she looked terrified."

"She's a monster. Take my word for it," Derek barked out.

"No, I mean, I don't, look, just tell me what kind. Another shapeshifter? What is she?"

"She's a witch," Derek said.

"Witches are human. Is she killing people?"

"Of course," June said. She reached out to lay her hand on Sam's arm

"What kind of spells is she casting? Who's getting hurt?"

Derek surged forward so that he was standing toe to toe with Sam. "We're doing what needs to be done."

Sam wanted to step back but he didn't. His father and Dean had taught him to never back down and he learned the lesson well.

"You can't just kidnap humans."

Derek grabbed his shirt in both hands and shoved him backward. Sam hit the wall with a jarring thud. He tried to push back but Derek outweighed him and the chains on his arms and legs hobbled him. He heard June yell an objection but her brother didn't seem to hear her.

"You're a child," Derek spit. "A baby. No wonder I had to choke you out. I expect more from John Winchester's son."

The memory of having an arm around his neck, cutting off his air, dropped back into Sam's mind and then he remembered June knocking the girl senseless with a bat.

"Get off him," June said, pulling on Derek's arm.

Derek gave Sam an angry smile before he shoved him into the wall again and let go. Sam drank in air. His legs were shaking.

June glared at her brother as he moved a few feet away. She turned to Sam and cupped his cheek in her hand. "I'm sorry. He shouldn't have done that."

Afraid of the answer but needing to know, Sam asked. "Why am I down here? What are you going to do?"

"You ask too many questions," Derek said. "Maybe you need a little time on your own down here. Learn some manners."

"Better idea," Sam said. "How about you call my dad and tell him to come get me. Or I can just leave. I can find a phone and call them. No big deal."

Derek and June exchanged a look that Sam didn't like. Derek shook his head. "No, that's not going to work."

When Derek stalked up to him this time, June took a step away. With his back already at the wall, Sam didn't have any place to go. His heart thudded in his chest as he fully expected Derek to kill him.

He surged forward, ramming into the larger man with all his weight. Derek barely budged and Sam felt like he hit a tree. Derek shoved him back by his shoulders, grabbed his shirt again and drew back a fist.

"Wait…" Sam said but he didn't get past that word. Derek slugged him fast and he went down.

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Sam groaned into waking noticing an aching jaw before anything else. He wondered where Dean was as he blinked at the wooden beams of the ceiling. Spider webs were caught in all the corners and crevices. He wondered if his father was coming to pick him up. He didn't like the smell of the room or the damp air surrounding him. Cold had crept into his bones and he wanted a jacket. Slowly he turned his head, trying not to jar his face too much since it felt like he'd repeatedly run into a wall.

Everything seemed to shimmer for a second like a watery filter separated the room from his vision and then his eyes cleared and he could see again. He was still in the basement of June and Derek's house. Stone and dim light were the only things to see. A steady drip of water slithered down the wall and made a faint splat noise when it hit the dirt floor.

Sam sighed. He hadn't been left on the floor again. Now he was lying on the narrow cot with a lumpy pillow beneath his head and bare springs beneath his back. When he shifted the bed frame creaked and squeaked. The springs poked painfully in his back. He checked the chains around him and found the same weird belt contraption holding his hands and legs. He pushed over towards his side in order to sit up but stopped short when the belt pulled at his waist. Confused he yanked his body forward only to have the whole bed jerk against the floor with a loud rattle. He tried again, no doubt bruising his midriff in the process but the bed moved with him and it became obvious that the restraint was now attached to it.

They had secured him into one place, one uncomfortable, scratchy place. He figured they knew he wouldn't leave the door alone.

He yanked a few times with no result. Then he twisted to try and see what they used to hold him but it was something going from the middle of his back to the bed. It wasn't hard to guess that something was attached to the back of the belt that attached to the springs or frame.

He lied back down, breathless and frustrated.

"Think, Sam," he said out loud.

He tried to scrunch down the other direction to get his feet on the floor. He thought he might be able to lift the whole cot against his back, wear it like a turtle shell and get to the door. But there was no give in the restraint. He moved a couple of inches before the belt shifted up and dug into his ribs which also dragged his legs up a couple of inches.

"Well, crap," he said.

He tested the chains on his wrists and legs and how they attached to the belt. They were still metal, heavy and immovable.

His head thumped unpleasantly while his stomach sent warnings that vomiting might happen. He thought about what it would be like to lay with puke around his head and that made his stomach churn more violently.

"Okay, think about something else," he said.

The cellar didn't echo but there was a leaden quality to his voice as it hit the empty room. Desperate to focus on something innocuous, he took a moment to consider the way sound works. All he had were facts gleaned from a textbook. Sound is dependent on the shape and dimensions of a room. There are areas of a room where wave pressure is highest and lowest. A sound wave is a disturbance. The wave travels, the disturbed particles don't. Sam tried to remember what else he knew about sound but his head refused to spit out any other facts.

Hearing footsteps on the other side of the door drove away his frustration at that and kicked fear into its place.

June came through carrying a wicker basket on her arm. She had changed her clothes and was wearing a yellow dress that showed her knees. Sleeveless and light weight, it didn't look right for the weather. Sam noticed the yellow polish on her fingernails. He wondered if she needed to dress up when involved in kidnapping.

June smiled as she stared at him.

"What now?" Sam demanded.

"Relax," she said.

She knelt beside him. He heard the basket scuff against the floor as she set it down. Her hands reached into the basket then came back with a bottle of water.

"You must be thirsty," she said.

Sam hadn't noticed it before but, he did now.

She unscrewed the plastic cap. "Sit up a little."

Sam followed directions and she put one hand under his back for support. She put the bottle to his lips and let him drink for a long time. When she took it away, he felt better. She continued holding some of his weight and it occurred to him that she was surprisingly strong. He was skinny but he still weighed fifty pounds more than her.

"There now," she said. "Are you hungry?"

He was but he didn't want her to feed him.

"Can you just let my hands loose? I can feed myself."

"No, Sam," she said, sounding disappointed. "I'm not sure your stomach is ready for solids anyway. You've been knocked unconscious several times now so your body needs a little time to adjust."

"Yeah, but…"

"No, no, no. Don't argue with me. I've been taking care of hurt hunters for years now."

Sam's back hurt from leaning forward so when she put a hand on his shoulder and pressed him back he didn't fight. He did get a weird feeling of alarm when she leaned over him and touched his face. Her fingers were soft as she traced his cheek and then his jaw. The bruise on his chin tingled under her hand. When she continued down to his neck, Sam flinched away from her.

Angry at the unwelcome familiarity, he said, "Hey. You want to stop touching me now?"

She didn't take her hand from his skin but she stopped moving. "Sam, I'm being nice, that's all. Just making sure Derek didn't hurt you."

"I'm fine. I'd be better if you just let me out of here."

She scoffed as she sat back on her knees. "I can't do that. We've already explained."

"No, June, you haven't. Look, I get it, you're hunters and you want to get the monsters before they get you. Sure. Fine. Whatever works, okay? But, you can't keep me down here like this. Let me go before this thing spirals out any further."

"There's no need to be rude, Sam. I'm an adult and I'm trying to help you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You kidnapped me."

"Now, you're just being petulant."

"You've got me trussed up like I'm a runaway from a chain gang and you think I'm being petulant?"

"My point, Sam, is that you should know that I can make things much worse for you. Try and appreciate the little kindnesses. They might not last forever."

She stood abruptly and brushed down her dress, apparently getting rid of wrinkles or something. She snatched her basket up and walked out of the basement.

Sam slammed his head against the pillow and cursed. A moment later he realized that he needed a bathroom. He cursed again.

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John reclined on the small sofa with his feet up and a beer in his hand. The television sitting on the other side of the table was silent and dark. John switched it off after the news reported two missing sisters. Seeing the parents tearfully plead for the return of their children was more than he could take.

John scratched his head before digging the cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed then listened to one ring before Sam's voicemail greeting told him to leave a message. John clicked off. That was his third attempt to reach his youngest with no answer and no call back. He figured Sam must be really angry to ignore him like that. It wasn't normal for him to cut off communications. But, then it wasn't normal for John to strike him either. John thought he may have crossed a line that he couldn't come back from.

Regardless of Sam's irritation however, John still needed to know how his son was doing. He scrolled through the numbers until he found June Fisher. He pressed the call button and waited through three more rings before she answered.

"Hi John, is everything alright?" she asked. She sounded like she was annoyed but trying to hide it.

"Yeah. Just trying to reach Sam."

"Oh, it's so late I thought maybe there was a problem."

John twisted around to see the bed where Dean snored softly. An ice pack lay on the floor and an open bottle of Tylenol sat on the bedside table. Behind the Tylenol, a clock told him the time was after midnight. John knew he should probably apologize but he didn't.

"I wanted to let Sam know that we'll pick him up the day after tomorrow."

"So soon?" John ignored her question.

"How's he doing?"

"Oh, you know how teenagers can be. He's a little grumpy, I guess. But, he's been helpful when we've asked."

"I can leave in the morning if you need him picked up sooner. We finished earlier than I expected so…"

"Don't be silly, John, you know how much I like Sam. I'm surprised you're picking up as soon as you are."

John looked at Dean again. He wanted to retrieve Sam but he needed to take care of his oldest too.

"Well, if you're sure. Dean got a little banged up on the job and I'd like to give him a day to rest."

"That's too bad. Is he all right?" Something in the way she answered gave John the impression that she was just being polite.

"Nothing serious but sleep will do him good."

"Then you should let him rest. I can let Sam know your plans."

"Yeah, June, why isn't he answering his phone? All I'm getting is voicemail."

"He made a mistake, I'm afraid. I was washing his clothes and I didn't realize that he left the phone in his pocket. I took it apart to try and dry the parts but for now it's broken."

"Damn it," John said. He had told the boys over and over to take care of their things. There wasn't money to replace carelessness.

"Then I'll just go ahead and give him the message. All right?" June said.

"Is he nearby? I'd like to talk to him."

"It's the middle of the night, John, he's asleep."

"I guess he would be. Um, I'll try again in the morning."

"That'll be fine. Sleep well. Look after Dean."

John listened to June's disconnect and set his phone down on the coffee table. He wished he had insisted that June wake Sam. He really wanted to hear his voice.

Despite all the fighting and the well-worn line between them, John loved Sam. He couldn't imagine life without both of his boys. He grew tired of the bickering and Sam's need for constant explanations. He hated listening to all the reasons why Sam despised his life. He couldn't understand why his youngest had to be so disagreeable all the time. But, that didn't erode John's feelings for the boy.

Dean had experienced growing pains. He pushed John's limits sometimes. He went through the sullen teenager phase. He went through the "know-it-all" phase too. But, Dean never attacked John. He seemed to understand that John was always trying to do the right thing. Dean accepted that their unusual lifestyle was necessary in order to save people and to find what killed Mary.

Sam had spent his early years trying to fit into that life too. He wanted to be like Dean. But, when puberty took over, Sam started questioning everything. His sharp, inquisitive mind turned from wondering "what if" to demanding change. Every day turned into a battle over something and it was exhausting.

John couldn't pinpoint what made him snap and hit Sam though. The boy wasn't saying anything new or more damaging than any other day. John was tired and slightly hung over. He was frustrated by the lack of any new leads regarding the monster that killed Mary. He guessed the combination was bad.

When Sam unloaded on him one more time, John lost control. It was something he had almost done before but managed to pull back in time. But, that last fight had been one too many and he struck out. And Sam, being Sam, couldn't stop talking. Shock and anger filled his tone as his face reddened but he didn't stop the barrage and John struck again.

He was as surprised as Sam.

When Dean appeared, the moment broke and John walked away from them filled with shame but still furious that he'd been pushed that far.

The decision to leave Sam with June came easy. He needed a break from the fighting or he'd risk losing control again. Dropping Sam off in a safe place while he and Dean worked a hunt was the best way to provide distance and perspective for all of them.

John groaned as he stood up to throw away the empty beer bottle. He stretched his arms over his head feeling the give of taut muscles and sighed. He walked over to the bed to check on Dean, dropping the bottle in the trash can as he passed.

Placing his hand on Dean's forehead, he was glad to find no evidence of a fever. He didn't expect any. Dean had a concussion. His eyes had looked clear, he hadn't been confused and only a brief bout with nausea had told John that it was a minor one. A couple of Tylenol and some bed rest would resolve his injury. The bumps and bruises were nothing serious. Dean would be sore for a couple of days but he'd heal fine.

If they had a job, John wouldn't have taken a day off but with the Bartholomay ghost settled and nothing pressing to go to next, he figured he'd give Dean a day to rest. The twenty-year old might think he's invincible but John knew better.

With Sam safely tucked in with June and Derek there was no rush to get back to Minnesota.

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