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. A shout out to the guest who reviewed this story. Your feedback was great and well appreciated.
Part 5
Sam flinched when he heard movement on the steps coming down to the basement. He lifted his head to see June step through the door with Derek following closely behind her. Not much time had passed since June's previous departure, maybe half an hour or so, but Sam was relieved to see them. Cramps had begun setting in from holding his bladder in check.
Derek carried a straight back chair that looked like it belonged to the larger set in the kitchen. All blond wood with slats down the back, it reminded Sam of the cheap motel furniture that he normally shared with his family.
Derek set the chair down next to the cot near Sam's head. Then he reached down to pull on the restraints contraption that rested on Sam's abdomen.
"I need a bathroom," Sam said.
"Figured," Derek said. He pointed towards the elevated recess in the basement. "There's a toilet up there. I'm going to let you go alone. There're no windows or doors or anything back there so you can't get away. Just do what you have to do and come right back. Don't screw this up, Sam or next time, we'll just leave you to piss yourself. Clear?"
Sam swallowed and nodded. "Clear."
As Derek slipped a small key into the lock holding the restraints in place, Sam watched each move. He hoped that by knowing how it worked, he might be able to find something to open the lock and then release himself. It wasn't a difficult mechanism but he'd need something to use as a pick and with his wrists bound, it'd take some acrobatics even with a paperclip or some other tool.
Derek lied on the floor, scooted under the cot and released the chain holding Sam to the bed. Then he stood up, slipped the chains off Sam's wrists, loosened and slipped the chains off his ankles. He left the waist band in place. After being held down for so long, sitting up took some effort and Sam's body protested but he didn't express any complaint. He was just relieved to be free and moments away from using a bathroom.
When he stood up, June blocked his way and gave him a small smile as she took his hands and rubbed her fingers against his wrists. Sam pulled away from her, stopping just short of shoving her.
"There's no need for rudeness when I'm trying to help you," she said.
"Still kidnapped," Sam said, pointing towards himself.
Her face turned stony with anger. Sam skirted around her.
He put one foot on the elevated opening and planted his hand on the wall to pull up into the recess. A few feet to his right he saw a curtain hanging so he headed in that direction. The walls on either side of him were concrete and featureless. More webs, more bugs but as Derek had told him there were also no windows or doors. Sam pulled back the curtain to find a single toilet with no accompanying sink. The toilet was clean which surprised him. June clearly showed no interest in keeping the basement as tidy as the rest of the house but, apparently, she wanted a hygienic commode.
After using the toilet and flushing, Sam heard Derek calling to him. He sighed and wondered WWDD. A few years earlier the phrase "What would Jesus do?" became popular but for Sam it was always, "What would Dean do?"
For one thing, Sam was pretty sure Dean wouldn't be intimidated by the threat of not using a proper toilet as needed. Dean would take advantage of being unbound and probably turn into a Ninja that was capable of defeating someone who was heavier, had the same defense training and was slightly insane. Sam rubbed his eyes. Derek called out again.
"Here we go," Sam said out loud and quietly started his journey back to the main basement.
He stayed close to the wall, hoping that Derek wouldn't be watching too closely. He figured the other man would be standing near the threshold. Sam crept along, planning to jump off the three foot platform and tackle Derek. With surprise on his side, he might be able to overpower him enough to allow an escape. He actually felt pretty confident of that part of his plan. The main concern plaguing him was June. She was also a trained hunter and wouldn't likely stay out of the fight.
But, Sam was strong and trained too. He hoped one good blow to the head would knock her down.
Skimming along with his belly to the wall, he tried to see into the main cellar. He could see June sitting on the chair beside the cot but Derek wasn't visible. He waited another moment but knew that one of them would come looking for him if he took too much time.
When Derek failed to come into view, Sam took a deep breath. He rushed into the entryway, taking a quick look to find him. But, he wasn't there and June jumped up instead. For the briefest of moments, Sam counted himself lucky then he yelled out when Derek slammed into his back sending both of them over the short drop.
Sam landed with an "oomph", feeling the air drive out of his lungs. Derek slammed on top of him then rolled off. He grabbed Sam's tee shirt and dragged him on to his back. Sam drew up blindly with his fists but Derek blocked him easily and slugged him on the left side of his face. The pain radiated from his cheek up and his vision grayed. Derek swung again and Sam blocked with his forearm only to have Derek land another forcible blow to his chest. Nausea swept through him as the darkness edged through his consciousness.
Sam batted weakly at Derek's hands when the older man lifted him off the floor by his shirt. Sam struggled in his grip only to get a knee in the stomach that made him gasp and his eyes water.
"Wait," he sputtered when Derek cruelly kneed him again and dropped him.
Sam curled into a ball, protecting his middle and trying to breathe. Derek kicked him in the leg then again in the lower back.
Like an echo he heard June yelling and the beating stopped. Sam stayed on the floor, eyes squeezed tight and taking air in desperate gasps. He swallowed over and over trying to keep from vomiting.
Panic swept through him when Derek grabbed him under the arms and pulled him off the floor. Sam scrambled his legs trying to get purchase but they were like loose spaghetti. Derek shoved him on to the cot so he was sitting then pushed him over. Realizing he was going to chain him down again, Sam surged up only to have Derek backhand him on to his side.
June joined her brother's efforts overwhelming Sam's admittedly weak defense and soon had him lying on his back, trussed up on the hard springs again.
Sam panted through the pain in his face and body, depression pushed over him as he found himself trapped again. He turned carefully toward his captors who were staring down at him like he was a bug pinned to a board.
"Do you have any idea what his father will do when he sees this?" June asked as she continued looking at Sam.
Derek stared too, with something like regret on his face. "He'll heal. The swelling, the bruising …we'll get some ice and…"
"He'll kill us."
"I'm not afraid of John Winchester."
June shook her head as she looked up at Derek. "You should be. Especially if you want things to stay the same around here."
"Get some ice and we'll see if we can delay his pick up for a few days," Derek said. "Give the kid a chance to heal up. If he doesn't look so bad maybe we can talk our way out of it. His father thinks Sam is just another pain-in-the-ass teenager. If we can convince him that nothing happened, that Sam is making up stories, then maybe…"
Sam listened to their words knowing that it wouldn't happen like that. When his father and Dean arrived, Sam would tell them about the girl in the laundry room and the girl that Derek killed and all the crap they were doing to Sam. Both would believe him because the one thing the Winchesters valued above all else was family.
"They're coming day after tomorrow. He won't be better that fast," June insisted.
Sam's eyes widened. Just one more day.
"Then we'll tell them he picked a fight. We'll tell them I was just defending myself and he got hurt. They'll believe that."
Sam considered telling them that their plan was crap but he couldn't see how that would be in his best interest. Now, he knew he just had to stay alive for another day.
June looked between Sam and her brother. Sounding calmer, she said, "I'll take care of him. You go settle down. If you lose your temper like this again, you could kill him."
Derek grumbled something that Sam couldn't understand before he walked out the door and up the steps.
June patted Sam's shoulder. "I'll be right back."
Sam swallowed back a response. For some reason, he was channeling Dean. The only thing in his head was angry sarcasm.
He deflated against the pillow, feeling his face throbbing with his heartbeat. A deep ache radiated through his torso reminding him of when he fell out of a tree a few years earlier. He tried to take a deep breath but stopped short when a sharp pain stabbed through his chest. He gasped at the jab thinking something might be broken.
While he waited for June's promised return he wondered at their conversation. The idea that they'd be able to convince Dean and dad that Sam was lying was ridiculous. All of them had been friends for years so both June and Derek should know better. Either they were wishful thinkers or they had left the land of reality.
The idea that his bruises and injuries would heal within a day was equally ridiculous. Humans heal at a fairly regular rate. No one would expect him to be visibly better that quickly. Unless…
The thought thumped into him like an unexpected door to the face.
June re-appeared then. Sam hadn't heard her come back. He pushed back on the cot as if he could get away from her.
On one arm, she carried the same wicker basket from before and in her hands she cradled a plastic bowl of water. She set her supplies down on the floor then scooted the chair around to sit closer and face him.
"Let me clean that blood up and then we'll see what we're dealing with," she said.
"I'm all right," he said, not wanting to feel her hands on him.
"So brave," she said, gently.
June used a warm cloth to wash his face. Sam bit back a groan as the material brushed against his new bruises and cuts. Her impassive expression unnerved him and he wished she'd finish up. He jerked away when she rubbed his cheek. A stinging pain drove into his eye and through his face.
"Just another minute, Sam," she said as she continued washing the same area.
Sam squeezed his hands into fists, afraid to close his eyes and let her out of his sight.
It felt like a long time before she finally stopped. She sat back with a smile.
"Much better. Now, just a little disinfectant."
She reached back into her basket and withdrew something in a brown bottle. He lifted his arms to stop her but they had shortened the chain. He yanked on it in frustration but didn't gain anything.
June patted his chest and stroked a hand through his hair. "its okay, Sam. It won't be that bad."
"Let me go, June. You're better than this. We're friends, aren't we?"
He didn't know what she was but he was hoping to reach some part of her that might be left.
"Of course. That's why I'm helping you. Ready?"
She shook the bottle and he could hear liquid splash inside. Even though he knew that it was important to disinfect a wound, Sam was afraid. Not of the pain, he'd been through this before. But, when Dean or his father treated him for some injury, it was different than this. No matter what words she spoke, he had the feeling she wanted to hurt him.
"It's all right," she said as she soaked a cotton ball.
Sam stiffened in anticipation. He gritted his teeth and sucked air in when she dabbed at his face. The chemical burned into his skin and radiated into his eye. He turned his head away but she just followed, reaching over him and rubbing the disinfectant in circles over the wound. When she finally sat back, Sam's skin was covered in a fine sweat and he was breathing hard.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Let me out of here," Sam yelled as anger swept through him. "You crazy bitch, just let me the hell out of here."
June recoiled from his outburst. Her face reddened and her lips thinned but Sam didn't care. He just wanted out.
"Your temper won't do anything to help you here," she warned.
"You know what? Eat me."
June stood up. She straightened her dress then pulled the elastic wrap from around her ponytail. She finger-combed her hair and replaced it. With a soft exhale she sat back down.
"All right, Sam, I'm going to let that go because I know you're upset. But, you'll need to settle down and mind your manners from now on or I'll have to gag you. I don't want to do that so don't make me, all right?"
That caught him short. He didn't want to be gagged. With effort he swallowed back any other words and shoved his anger into a hole.
"Okay, here," she reached back in her basket and pulled out a bottle of water.
Slipping an arm under his head, she pulled him up a few inches and put the plastic against his lips. He was struck again by her strength as she poured the liquid slowly into his mouth. She took it away too soon but Sam didn't complain as she removed her support and let him fall back.
"Can you just let one of my arms free? I can drink and eat on my own if…"
"No, Sam."
"The lock for this belt thing is under the springs. I can't get to it. There's no reason…"
"Please. You're a Winchester and you're very clever. I won't risk you hurting yourself while you try or, God forbid, actually figure something out."
"June, this is crazy. Can't you see how crazy this is?"
"Let's check those ribs, all right?"
Sam closed his eyes. He didn't want her hands on him. He didn't want her to check anything. Whether she was a shapeshifter or a demon or ghost-possessed human, he didn't want her anywhere near him.
"I'm fine."
"Just making sure."
Sam rolled his eyes when she pushed his tee shirt up across his abdomen and tucked the bunched material above the belt and over his chest. She ran light fingers over his belly that tickled uncomfortably.
"Stop," Sam said, seriously.
"There are some bruises here." She pushed into his skin and Sam grunted as she unfailingly prodded his sensitized flesh. "I'm sorry, does that hurt?"
Sam didn't think she was sorry but he couldn't understand why she seemed attracted to him but wanted to cause him pain too.
She slid her fingers under the belt and under the shirt. "Uh-oh," she said. "I think Derek did some damage here."
Sam gasped when she pushed against a bone. His head swam with the sudden stab.
"Broken, I think," she said.
"Okay, okay, stop. Just stop pushing on it."
She withdrew her hands and tugged his shirt down. She cupped his face in her hand and caressed his cheek.
"I'm sorry, Sam, I needed to know how badly you were hurt."
"I don't…you don't…" He stopped himself from saying anything else. Accusing her didn't seem smart. She seemed satisfied for the moment.
"You're a very good looking boy, Sam. I think you know that I like you. And I think you know that you've been flirting with me."
Confusion swamped him at her words. After her examination, he was still trying to get a grip on the pain she caused but her accusation cut through that.
"I didn't…I haven't. You're like forty or something, aren't you?"
"I understand how that can seem strange at your age but, Sam, age is just experience. I think that's what you want from me. I can give it to you too."
WWDD?
Since puberty, Dean spent a lot of time with a lot of girls. Attraction trumped affection. In fact, Dean didn't want relationships as much as he wanted entertainment.
But, would Dean return interest in a situation like this? While Sam wasn't willing to be the victim of a woman more than twice his age, he wasn't willing to be a participant either. Would Dean go along? Would he enjoy the moment even while he schemed? Would Dean use it to his advantage? If she wanted to have sex, wouldn't she have to untie him? Would Dean agree just to get free?
Sam's stomach turned at the thought of her. She already spent too much time with her hands on him. Did he really want to invite more? Could he manage to let her if it meant getting out of the chains?
A light rap on the head brought him out of his thoughts. She had thumped him with her knuckles.
"Don't think so much. This is supposed to be fun."
"This isn't fun. You're a perverted freak."
Sam realized his mistake a moment after speaking. The room couldn't have turned colder if a spirit had been materializing. The stone mask that June donned whenever she was upset fell firmly into place as she stood up. The chair tipped over behind her.
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Dean rolled over slowly, letting his aching head adjust to movement. Daylight, gray and dull, peeked through the blinds covering the hotel window. Dean's hand fumbled around on the night stand until it closed on his cell phone. He flipped open the cover to check the time and found it was still early, not yet 7:30. He glanced towards the second bed where he found his father sleeping on one side, his arms crossed and his mouth open. The only sound was soft snoring.
Dean frowned when he checked for messages on his phone but found his incoming box empty.
He scratched his head then his chest then swung his legs from under the covers and padded into the bathroom. After using the facilities, he pressed the speed dial for Sam but it went to voicemail without ringing. Dean rubbed his chin. That wasn't normal. The surge of worry sent a dizzying spike through his skull and he had to hang on to the bathroom counter for a moment in order to get his balance back. Once the pain faded his legs wobbled weakly but he only waited another moment before going back into the main room.
He moved slowly but picked up his duffle and dug out clean clothes. He took them plus his shaving kit into the bathroom. Knowing the water would wake his father, Dean turned the knobs anyway.
After taking a quick shower, he stepped out then shaved. He brushed his teeth and dressed in jeans and a long sleeved blue t-shirt before going back out to face his father's wrath.
"Dean, what are you doing?" Dad asked, sounding annoyed more than angry.
"Time to go get Sammy. Figured you'd want to get on the road."
Dad was lying on his back, blankets pulled up to his chest and staring at the ceiling.
"Actually, I was thinking we could stay here another night so you could rest up. You took a pretty good knock to the head, son."
"I'm okay. Ready to hit the road."
"What's your hurry? Sammy's fine. I called last night."
"You talked to Sam?"
Dad rolled his eyes as he turned on to his side. He pushed up to lean on one arm. "I talked to June. Sam's cell went through the wash and isn't working."
"Why didn't he come to the phone?"
"He was sleeping. I called pretty late."
"Then you didn't talk to him."
Annoyance laced Dad's tone. "No. As I said, I spoke with June."
Dean shook his head as he rolled his dirty clothes into a ball. He threw them into his duffle.
"Yeah, that's not…you know what, let's just go get him."
"Dean, you're practically falling over. You should be sleeping, not packing."
Dean sat down on the bed. His head pounded out a sickening rhythm. He knew he was pushing his luck. His father normally preferred to be obeyed not questioned. Dean figured he was getting some slack because of the concussion. His father might feel guilty about the fight with Sam too.
"I can sleep in the car," Dean said.
"What's the rush? He's safe where he is."
Dean shuffled across the bed to sit on the side facing his father.
"I have a bad feeling," he said, seriously.
"You have a head injury."
"No, not like that. There's something about June, I don't know, it doesn't feel right."
Dad scrunched up his eyes in a familiar way, part scowl, part thinking.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. Spidey-sense." Dean shrugged. "You always say we should listen to our instincts."
"On hunts, Dean," he specified, irritably. Then his voice became more thoughtful. "I've known June and Derek for years. So have you. We've been to their house a dozen times. Stayed overnight there."
"But, you think something's off too, don't you?"
Dad rolled over on to his back. Dean started to think he wasn't going to answer.
Then he said, "I haven't spoken to Sam since we dropped him off. I know he's angry but it's not like him."
"I've only talked to him once and I don't have any missed calls. He's not mad at me."
Dad sat up, swung his legs to the floor and rubbed his face.
"All right, finish packing up. I'll grab a quick shower and we'll head out."
"Yes, sir."
Dean watched his father disappear into the bathroom. He sighed. If necessary, he would have stolen the keys and left on his own. He was glad it hadn't come to that.
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