new chappy, hope everyone is still enjoying!! thanks for reading and for all the awesome reviews so far!! bambers;)
Chapter Fourteen
Tears stung at Sam's eyes as he tried to ball his broken fingers into a fist, and cringed when his battered and bloodied fingertips scarcely touched the palms of his hands. He grimaced, recalling the grotesque sound of his bones cracking amidst the jeering laughter of the Father's men.
When his captors had thrown him in the cell, they hadn't bothered to chain him back to the floor, figuring Sam was no longer a threat to them, and reluctantly Sam was forced to admit that they were right. He could barely stand much less make a fist to fend off an attacker, and knew in his heart he was totally at their mercy. Huh, like they even know what the word means.
But what really sent a shiver of fear coursing down Sam's spine was the knowledge that no matter what they did to him, he couldn't give in. He had to fight against them with every ounce of strength he possessed. The moment he showed weakness, gave in even in the slightest, the Father would be finished with him. And the moment the Father was finished with Sam, he knew they would kill him.
Tendrils of guilt wrapped themselves firmly around Sam's brain as he thought of all he had done in the past to manipulate Dean into doing things his way. The Father was bound and determined to do his damnedest to make sure Sam paid for every little thing he'd ever done to Dean no matter how harmless it had been at the time. Another tremor of fear washed over Sam has he thought that it wouldn't matter to the Father that Sam had never meant to hurt his brother, the madman would torture him relentlessly just because he could, and it was as simple as that.
Sam glanced around his confines, wondering where Dean was at the moment. A frown creased his brow at the thought that his older brother might not be the same person when they finally managed to escape the Father's clutches. He knew Dean better than anyone, and although he knew his brother was strong, he also knew his weakness. Sam was his weakness. The youngest Winchester had always known that from as far back as his memory would permit him to travel. There was nothing Dean wouldn't do for him. Sam knew this only too well, and if the Father played on the thought that Sam didn't care, had left Dean to the Father's mercy, Dean would crumble, Sam was almost certain of it.
"Have you ever heard of the MKULTRA experiments?" came the Father's cold and calculating voice, and Sam visibly flinched, startled out of his troubled thoughts.
Sam's mind raced trying to figure out if he'd ever heard of what the man had just asked, but couldn't recall ever hearing of it before. Slowly he shook his head, fearing that he soon would know what it meant on a very personal level.
The Father gave a curt nod as he knelt beside Sam. "Back in the 50's, the CIA conducted research on the effects of certain drugs to brainwash individuals. Course it was all rather hush-hush, and a lot of the times people didn't even realize what was happening to them." He removed a small vial and needle from the pocket of his crimson robe, and motioned for the men waiting outside the cell to hold Sam while he administered the drug. He held up the vial of yellowish liquid to Sam's eye level, and smiled when Sam squirmed away from him. "LSD." His grin widened as he filled the syringe with the liquid and his men took a firm hold of Sam. "See, one of the things they learned about this drug was it made their 'recruits' believe they could withstand any sort of torture. So tell me, Boy, how much torture do you think you can endure?"
The men holding onto Sam laughed as he tried to push further away, only to find himself smacking into the bars of the cell. Their grips tightened on Sam's bruised arms, and he let out an involuntary cry of pain. The Father leaned forward and injected the needle into the muscle of Sam's biceps, then sat back on his haunches and waited.
Within a few moments, Sam slumped back into the men's arms, his body going lax under their grasps. His eyes slowly fluttered open and closed as a splay of technicolor lights flashed before them. Suddenly he jerked forward, craning his neck as he watched the walls intently. The steady thrum of a heartbeat reverberated through the room as the concrete walls pulsed in time to Sam's own heart.
"Walls sur beatin'," he mumbled incoherently, then giggled. "Didna aven know they ha' a hurt."
He glanced up in wonder and awe at the metal bars of the cell and his jaw dropped open as the sturdy metal began to melt, looking more blood as the molten liquid slid down the poles to pool on the ground. The bloodlike substance inched its way toward Sam, slowly taking form. Eyes that gleamed with yellow fire stared at him as a bloody head took shape. Arms, that appeared liquid and solid at the same time reached out for him, and he shied away, balling up in the corner of the cell.
A blast of fiery light exploded overhead, writhing flames consuming everything in its path. Golden-orange flames licked greedily at the ceiling as thick black smoke quickly filled the room. Sam's breath caught in his throat as his head dropped back on his shoulders, and he saw Jessica crying out to him. "Shheshica," he screamed, trying to bolt to his feet, but demons grabbed a hold of him, pinning him to the ground.
"What do you see?" the Yellow-Eyed Demon asked as he moved to loom ominously over Sam. Blood dripped from his willowy fingers to splatter on Sam's face. The demon glanced at the ceiling, and then looked back to Sam. "Is there something there?"
Sam quirked a puzzled brow, confusion registering on his features. "Sh-shesh dyin' . . . pl-please stop this.
"Because of you?" the demon asked, an amused grin spreading across his craggy face. "Who did you kill?"
Sam's brow's furrowed even closer together, not understanding why the demon was pretending he didn't know Jessica was burning alive. "Shheshica . . . sh-she's dyin' . . . gotta h-helb 'er."
"So you killed her?" The Yellow-Eyed demon knelt beside Sam, and dug his sharpened claws into Sam's flesh. Blood dripped down Sam's chest, bubbling and sizzling against his burning skin, but he scarcely noticed it. "Looks like your brother isn't the only one who has secrets." The demon smirked, digging further into Sam's flesh, more blood spilling down his chest. "You destroyed your brother. You know that. You killed him. You are a manipulator and a liar, and deserve to suffer."
In a blink, Jessica was gone and Dean now took her place on the burning ceiling. Dean's skin bubbled and melted away from his bones as he silently screamed for Sam to save him, but the demons held firm, and Sam was forced to watch as his brother's body burned to ash. Sam gagged at the putrid scent of sulfur and burning flesh lingering heavily in the air.
"D-Dea . . . 's my fault . . . ." Tears stung at his eyes as he tried desperately to reach out to his brother, but it was too late, Dean was already gone. "Dreamed it . . . coulda stopped it."
"You dreamed it?" The Yellow-Eyed Demon hesitated, his clawed nail biting deeply into Sam's flesh. A bemused expression crossed his features as he stared long and hard at Sam. "Like you knew it was going to happen before it did?"
Sam nodded. Something off to the right caught his eye, and he tilted his head to the side, and began to chuckle. "There's a purble unicorn dancin' with a lepre — whad er those little green men? Duh ones with hats."
"You knew it was going to happen?" the demon said, more insistently. "You knew she was going to die?"
"They're wantin' me ta dance." Sam crinkled his nose in distaste. "Wid a frog . . . a big fugly frog . . . an' id has warts . . . do frogs have warts?" He threw his back a laughed.
The Father stood, and strode away from Sam with his men following after him. At the entrance of the cell, he turned back and smiled at the blood seeping down the younger man's chest. "Send for Morning Dawn. I have a job for her to do."
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
"Sam?" came a vaguely familiar voice, and Sam reluctantly opened his eyes, blinking hard as he adjusted to the lights flooding the room. Dawn sat beside him, gently washing away the blood covering his chest. She rinsed the blood-soaked cloth out in a bucket of water, then squeezed out the excess water with her unbandaged hand, before returning her attention to his wounds."You've been really out of it for quite a while, an' I was starting to worry."
Sam gripped a hold of the sides of his head, wincing from both the pain in his fingers and the throbbing pressure in his temples. He swallowed hard, his throat feeling like gravel. "What happened? Feel like hell."
"Father, he . . . well, he injected you with LSD, Sam. I dunno what you said while you were under the influence, but he's . . . I've never seen him like this before." Dawn met his gaze for a moment then lowered her head, fingers trembling as they brushed against his skin. "He says you're evil . . . says you know things and deserve to be punished." She glanced back up at him, biting tentatively at her full lower lip. "He called you a child of Satan . . . an' said it was his job to see that you are sent back to Hell where you belong. That's not true is it?" she asked innocently.
Sam shook his head, wondering just what he had said to the Father while under the influence of the drug. "Dawn, gotta find my brother," he grasped a hold of her hand, wincing as his broken fingers came in contact with hers, "please help me find my brother."
"I-I can't, Sam," Dawn quickly glanced over her shoulder, and Sam noticed for the first time that two men stood partially hidden in the shadows of the room. "Father is already angry with me, and if I disobey him again . . . ." her voice trailed off as she visibly trembled. "I'm sorry, Sam. You have no idea how sorry I truly am."
Sam leaned closer to her, and lowered his voice so that only she could hear. "Dean can protect you. Find him for me, tell him I'm here."
Dawn slowly shook her head, tears welling in her deep blue eyes. "He's not your brother anymore, Sam. I saw him, he's one of the family now. He'll do whatever Father tells him to do."
"Please, Dawn," Sam begged, "jus' tell him I'm here, an' I swear to God, he'll snap outta whatever the Father has done to him. He jus' needs to know I'm here."
Again, Dawn looked over her shoulder at the two men who had edged closer to hear what the two had been saying, and then returned her attention to Sam. "I really can't. I wish I could . . . but you don't know what it's like livin' here . . . Father knows everything. He'll find out. He always does."
"He's gonna kill me if I don't get out of here," Sam squinted at her through his one good eye, silently willing her to understand that he was running out of time. "I don't wanna d-die," his voice hitched in throat, "please, don't let me die here."
"Sam, I . . . ." She peered down at his chest, and shivered before she once again held his gaze. A sudden wariness settled over her gentle features.
At a loss as to why she should suddenly be afraid if him, Sam glanced down at his chest for the first time, and his face faltered, tears brimming in his eyes as he noticed the word, EVIL, cut into his skin. "Not evil, Dawn," his voice trembled with heartbreak as he glanced back up at her. "You gotta believe me . . . I'm not." Gently he traced his trembling fingers over the swollen marks on his skin as a single tear slipped down his cheek. "God, why did he have to do this to me? Didn't do anythin' wrong . . . never did anythin' wrong."
"Sorry . . . I . . . ." Dawn faltered as she pulled a small vial out of her pocket along with a syringe.
Sam abruptly pulled back away from her, staring at the vial in her hand. He swallowed hard, not wanting to believe he was so wrong about her. "Not again . . . please, don't do this to me
again . . . I'm beggin' ya." A shiver of fear raced up Sam's spine at the idea of being drugged again, and by someone he believed he could trust no less. "Please," sheer panic filled his voice as she moved closer to him with the filled syringe in her hand. He raised his fists to try and defend himself, but knew with his badly damaged hands it would do him little good to fight against her.
"Don't have a choice, Sam." A pleading look filled her sad, soulful eyes, tears streaming down her face. "If I don't they'll punish me."
Sam peered down at Dawn's bandaged hand, remembering how the Father had held it in the flames because she'd taken a step forward to come to his defense. She had tried to help him that night and had suffered for it, and he couldn't bring himself to ask her to defy the madman again. Forcing himself to lower his arms, Sam shook violently as he allowed her to inject the drug into his arm.
"I'm so sorry, Sam," Dawn cried, more tears cascading down her cheeks. "I really am."
"S'okay. Not yer fault." Dejectedly, he slumped against the metal bars, breathing deeply as he waited for the LSD to take effect. Within a matter of minutes, heat rose to flush his face as a feeling of euphoria surged through his body. His arms and legs felt heavy and useless as he tried to move, and he stared up at Dawn in confusion. "Nodda same . . . doesn't feel the same."
"Father called it a speedball." Dawn drew Sam into her arms, and held onto him firmly, her body trembling as she tried to comfort him. "Heroin laced with cocaine."