Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine and these characters don't belong to me. Wow, déjà vu, huh?
A/N: Thanks for following, reviewing and favoriting, you guys are the best, seriously!
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The fourth time Sam wakes up he hears his brother's voice.
"Sammy! I'm sorry."
"D-Dean?" Sam's eyes fly open, he's sitting up against a wall in the same spot he fell, he thinks. He knows his vision's for shit, but there are red eyes everywhere like he's in a room full of wendigos. He tries to focus on one of them, difficult because they don't seem to stay still, swirling and swooping and making him dizzy. He remembers the wendigo's talent for mimicry and blinks back tears. Dammit, he just wants his brother.
"Sammy! I'm sorry," one wendigo says in his brother's voice. Sam trembles; injury and loss and cold fury.
"Stop," he grinds out, his voice dry with dust and disuse, "You...don't use his voice!"
"Sammy! I'm sorry," replies the wendigo, if he concentrates there's only one of them now. That should be encouraging but it isn't, not when he's stuck listening to it mock his need so cruelly. "Sammy!"
"Don't you get it? That trick doesn't work when people can see you!"
"I'm sorry," the wendigo replies, and the real grief in his brother's voice leaves Sam curled up on himself, his arms covering his face, his tied hands over his head.
"Dammit, Dean, just please don't be dead," he whispers, a soft prayer to the only one he has true faith in.
"Sammy!" replies his brother's voice.
"Shut up! So help me I will end you if you k-killed my brother!" Sam growls, dropping his arms to glare at his nemesis.
The wendigo rocks back on its heels, gives the hunter a look that practically speaks, 'you already tried to kill me, stupid,' and moves towards him. Sam flinches away; he's pressed to the wall and there's nowhere really to go and he knows there's nothing he can do to stop it from hurting him. Nothing that could hurt more than what it's already doing. He knows his family will be disappointed in him for it but he can't stop himself from turning his face away and closing his eyes.
Something heavy, plastic and cool is in his hands. Sam looks down in surprise at the sealed bottle of water and back up at the creature, who grunts expectantly.
"What...I don't...what?" Sam stammers eloquently. He eyes the bottle in his hands like it's a puzzle he can't solve, but now that he has it he realizes he's never been so thirsty in his life. It's not the easiest thing to unscrew the cap with his hands tied but he manages it, and gulps down half the bottle, too good, too much, too fast. He feels it threaten to make a reappearance and stops, swallowing hard, keeping the liquid down by force of will. The wendigo growls and he freezes, holding the bottle up uncertainly. It is instantly snatched away, a blow to his shoulder knocking him down to punctuate the creature's displeasure. Sam slowly sits himself back up, muttering, "Yeah, got it, you're welcome."
"I'm sorry. Sammy!" it replies as it shreds the plastic bottle. Drops of water scatter but most of the water had already been swallowed, and Sam thinks 'wendigo recycling' somewhat hysterically. He feels floaty and disconnected, but he guesses that's better than dead. The wendigo menaces over him, clawed hands inches from his throat, but it's not making any more moves towards him. He feels like it's waiting for something Sam has no way to understand.
"M-m-my brother's gonna find us and he's gonna kick your ass!" he stammers. The wendigo's expression is odd, what Sam would have called helpless on a more human face. Sam feels like he's shaking apart, this monster won't stop imitating his brother and he can't kill it and he doesn't know what to do. He holds his hands up in supplication, "Please don't...just...please!"
"I'm sorry," it says again, sad and gruff, and Sam wants to cover his ears but he can't with his hands tied and he's losing his mind. He's losing it.
"Stop! God! Don't you get it?" Sam shouts at it, "I can't h-hear his voice, it's not real, it's not h-him and I don't know if he's even...if he's gone and I d-didn't save him! I didn't have time and he's going to hell and he...he can't! Not ever! He can't just say he's sorry and leave me alone!"
Sam covers his face in his hands and takes a shuddering breath. He totally blames the wendigo piling on the head injuries for his loss of control. Two deep breaths later and he's reined it in enough to attain some semblance of calm. The wendigo is still staring at him, but he turns away toward the wall and using his arms and shoulders starts to inch his way up, getting his calves and finally his feet underneath him. John Winchester would kick his ass for turning his back on this thing but Sam can't find it in him to care anymore. He figures if it's going to attack him it will, whether he's facing it or not, and at this point he might prefer a direct attack to this confusing impasse.
Nothing happens. When he finally turns around, leaning back against the wall to take some pressure off shaky legs, the monster is still in the same exact spot as before. Sam knows he wasn't exactly breaking the Guinness record for crawling up a wall. There are too many things here that are confusing and painful and overwhelming and Sam's had enough.
"I don't know what you're doing. I don't know what you want from me," he complains, gesturing around, "and I don't get this place. It's like the dungeon at Hogwart's. Not that you'd know..." He trails off, continuing more to himself for a moment, "I don't think either of us is supposed to be here. It's not a wendigo lair." Some of what's been bothering him is coalescing in his aching head. "There're no bones, or half-chewed people so this can't be where you normally, uh, hold your meals."
The wendigo says nothing in response to Sam's musings, just shifts away almost uncertainly. Sam considers what it might do if he bolted for the exit, but he doesn't want to risk this fragile détente to try. He'd rather keep trying to unravel the mystery, because he knows in his heart if he can it's the way home, the way to Dean.
"It's like you're trying to help me." The wendigo glares and gives a tetchy huff, as if irritated that it was found showing a kindness. It's an oddly familiar gesture and Sam pauses before continuing. "Maybe you need me for something, though I can't think what you'd want me for other than a…a food source...I mean, bottle opener? Advice on hygiene? Fashion tips?"
"Sammy!" the creature snaps back.
"Look, if you can't stop doing that just...maybe just stomp once for yes and twice for no." It's back in his face again in an instant, a bruising grip on his arms and Sam hastily tries to calm it before it knocks him silly again or finally decides chat-time should be mealtime. "Sorry, sorry, I...guess I'm channeling my brother." Rather than soothe it, that remark gets him shaken again before it releases him, arms raised before it turns away with a snort of frustration. Again Sam feels that sense of familiarity, but pain and exasperation make his temper finally flare. "Give me a break, in case you haven't noticed I'm not at my best! Next time I play twenty questions with a monster I'll try not to have major head trauma." Sam's legs choose that moment to decide they no longer want to hold him and he collapses to his knees. The wendigo looks down at him, its body language uncertain. Sam's head feel too heavy and he lets his chin drop. He can't help a cry of surprise when the creature at the hair on top and yanks none too gently. Sam flinches away when its other clawed hand cups his jaw, forcing the hunter into close eye contact.
"I'm sorry."
"I only want to hear that from my brother." Sam can't look away from the blazing red eyes. He sees something that nearly stops his heart, a minute flash of green that's all too familiar. "No, no, no no it can't be...it can't be..."
"Sammy! I'm sorry." It releases him, rocking back on its heels and this time it is Sam gripping its skeletal arms as all the clues start to gather together into a horrible truth.
"Dean? Oh God, Dean is it you?" The wendigo's hand moves over Sam's head in a parody of patting it like he's a prize pupil, but thankfully doesn't actually hit him again. Sam looks down and the burn on its chest looks angry, accusing. "Damn, I hurt you." He releases its arms, reaches towards the wound tentatively but it gracefully rises from its crouch and turns away, looking back only when it reaches the opening. The thing that Sam is more and more certain is his brother transformed gestures to Sam to follow and he staggers behind it in a daze, his mind whirling with possibilities.
"How could this happen? Do you know where we are? What we need to do to fix this, fix you?" Sam trails off as the move into the corridor. There are torches providing enough light to follow, and Sam sees five uneven grooves running along the wall. He thinks he knows what the screeching sound from earlier was. They make a few turns, the corridors all look the same, all look like the original room he found himself in. "This place, it's like a maze. You were somewhere else, before? Or you were with me and you tried to find a way out, marked a path so you could find your way back."
"Sammy!" Sam sighs, rubs at his eyes to try to force away the worst of the headache that still plagues him. He still feels like his thoughts are struggling through a sea of molasses.
"You're like a broken record, dude, you know that? I don't know if you even know what you're saying."
"I'm sorry."
"Right, okay, I'm just trying to get this. The last thing I remember was leaving Illinois, that's all, there's nothing else. God, I just, I've just got to remember what we were doing!" Sam's knees threaten to buckle once more, they're moving so fast, everything's too fast. They turn another corner; everything looks the same except for his brother's marks. Making the walls was smart, but wendigos aren't mindless beasts; Sam's not sure how much of his brother is in control. "Whatever happened to you, are you, um, you? I mean, are you human and you just look like a wendigo? Are you a wendigo that just used to be Dean? Are you a Deandigo?" Sam starts to chuckle somewhat hysterically. "Sorry I'm...whoa!"
Sam's traitorous legs declare break time without warning. He's yanked upwards before he can fall, pulled into odoriferous arms. It's like a parody of one of his brother's hugs, except he hears a strange wet snuffling sound near his shoulder. The one that's still bleeding. Panic is a bird fluttering from his chest upwards to his ponding head and he struggles, tries to pull away but its impossibly strong. He's held even tighter, he can't breathe and there's fabric ripping and white hot agony in his shoulder. Sam screams. He's being torn apart. The last thing he registers is the horrible sound of chewing.
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A/N: If you've got something to say, go ahead. I can take it. Of course, if it's flames and not criticism, all bets are off lol. One more chapter to go here!