A/N: Again, sorry for the hellatus. But tests are over (Yay!) so I can come back to this now.
Thank you again to everyone who has continued to follow, favorite, review, and read this! I'm glad people haven't given up on me. :-)
Warnings: Torture.
Disclaimer: If this were mine, the show would consist of nothing but chick-flick moments and brotherly schmoop. But as it is, Supernatural has a plot. So clearly, it does not belong to me.
AU after episode 7x04
Running surveillance by yourself was boring. So boring that Dean was about two seconds away from saying "Screw it" and letting the leviathans run wild.
He had picked up where Bobby left off, following the big mouths to an abandoned warehouse. And that's where he had been for the last six hours. Sitting. Alone. In the Impala. Feeling generally useless. Because really, they weren't doing anything other than talking and drinking. Which was weird. But hey, he supposed leviathans were allowed to get bored too.
The annoying thing was, when you were bored, your mind was allowed to go places you'd rather it didn't. And the fact that it was hanging out in the vicinity of Sam was never a good thing. Because his phone was sitting right there and he had already called for an update twice over the course of this stakeout and he was pretty sure Bobby would yell at him until his ears bled if he called at two in the morning. Then again, Bobby probably just wouldn't answer.
Unless Sam had gotten worse and was doing something at two in the morning that Bobby needed to be awake to stop.
And Dean decided he'd rather just be ignored.
So he was about to pack it in. Either that or go join the Purgatorian-freaks because alcohol sounded really good and they seemed to be having a good time. Better than he was anyway.
But that was when the screaming started.
Dean sat straight up, ears perking as he tried to locate the source of the sound. Hunter instincts on red alert, he zoned in on a small group of leviathans down the road, dragging a screaming woman towards the warehouse. And as his eyes flickered back and forth between the leviathans inside and the leviathans outside, he made a decision. Probably a very stupid one. A very stupid one that Sam would kill him for if he were here. But Sam's not here. Sam's not here.
There were only three of them and one innocent woman that needed help. And normally, he wasn't stupid. At least this stupid. Normally, he would at least have gotten back up. But he couldn't help Sam. He couldn't save Sam so he might as well find someone that he could save.
Putting the car into drive, he pressed on the gas, speeding until he was right in front of the group before sliding to a stop, sending them all staggering backwards to avoid getting hit.
He jumped from the car, gun in hand, aiming over the top of the Impala. "Let her go!" he shouted, firing the first shot into one of the approaching crony's shoulder. Of course, he just staggered back a step under the impact, hissing, huge teeth making an appearance. Threatening. Dean's skin prickled, as if it was worried when he wasn't. As if trying to remind him that it didn't want to get eaten. And no, Dean didn't exactly want to get eaten because that would be incredibly unpleasant. But he wasn't worried. It was a rescue mission. He was going to save someone and it was all going to be okay.
The bullet accomplished what Dean wanted it to. The leviathans broke apart. One kept holding the now crying and begging girl while the other two tried to figure out how to get around the car to get to him. But Dean knew how to make this work, had done stuff like this a million times before.
As one went around the back and the other started towards the front, Dean slid across the hood, cutting off the one he had shot. And before it even had time to react, he had sliced its head off, kicking it as far from the body as he possibly could.
Seeing this happen, the second leviathan growled, head flying back, teeth coming out as it ran back along the Impala. Dean ducked as it lunged at him, barely missing getting bit, feeling the breath skate along his bare arm. Swinging, he didn't even think about it before he had its head rolling across the ground to join its friend's.
The next thing Dean knew, he had his knife pressed to the third leviathan's throat, watched as cold hatred filled its eyes. "Let her go, and maybe I'll let you die easy."
"Please," the woman whispered, a sob tearing from her throat as she pushed at the arm around her. "Please, let go!"
"You heard her," Dean said, voice a dangerous whisper. "Let...her...go." And he was sure it was about to happen, was sure the leviathan cared about his own life more than that. But the next thing he knew, the woman was dead on the ground and he was shouting in denial.
Anger pulsing in his veins, he lunged forward, only to have himself yanked backwards, arms hooking under his own. The moment of hesitation, the moment he stood shocked as she was killed, that was all it took to get himself grabbed, to have his machete falling to the ground with a useless clatter.
Elbowing one of his unidentified captors in the stomach, he kneed the other in the crotch, breaking free fast enough to grab his only weapon off the ground. And he really should have thought about that. Brought more knives, a chainsaw, something. But he hadn't planned ahead when he'd jumped out of the car. He had just gone. And he was so going to hate himself for that.
As he spun around to face his attackers, he froze. There were lines of people all standing there, an entire army. And he was in the middle of the circle they made.
Flipping around, back and forth, looking for any way out, any direction he could run that wouldn't mean instant death. But there wasn't one. There was nowhere for him to go. And for the first time, he knew he was completely trapped.
His body was tense, hand clenching and unclenching on his weapon as they moved closer, narrowing the circle around him. He felt like a sheep, surrounded by a pack of wolves. And a part of him realized that he kind of was. Though the rest of him really didn't appreciate the sheep analogy because sheep weren't badass. They were fluffy and cute and said, "Baaaaa."
Dean Winchester was not a sheep.
They stopped moving, at least most of them did. The one that had been holding the girl, now lying dead at his feet, stepped forward, encroaching on Dean's personal bubble. "The infamous Dean Winchester. I have to admit, from the way Edgar described you, I thought you'd be... smarter." The condescension in his tone forced Dean to grit his teeth, made his muscles tighten even farther than they already had. Which was pretty impressive because they already felt like they were going to pop or burst through his skin or something else equally unpleasant.
"And I thought you'd be prettier. Guess we're both disappointed," Dean snapped, matching step for step as the monster started to circle him. Again, Dean Winchester was not a sheep.
Nor was he anyone's dinner.
The two edged around the space left to them by the group and Dean suddenly realized how screwed he was. Before, the extent of his screwage had been an abstract thought, almost unimportant. But now, there was a freaking army surrounding him. A goddamn army of bloodthirsty, Dean-eating creepiness. And he was hit with the overwhelming urge to inform them that he didn't taste very good.
The leviathan just smirked, head tilted to the side as they studied each other. "You walked right into it. Didn't even think about it. Just rushed in to save the damsel in distress. Easily forgetting how outmatched you were." And that just confirmed what Dean already knew. It had been a trap. A carefully planned, orchestrated trap that they'd known he would fall straight into. Because he's impetuous like that. Because without Sam, he was unbalanced and they knew it.
But he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him worried, wasn't going to let them think for one second that they had pulled anything over on him. "There're two heads rolling around here that prove differently." The leviathan just laughed, gesturing to the ground. And slowly turning around, Dean found himself watching as the heads rolled back to their owners, reattaching themselves to the bodies. They glared at him as they worked out the kinks in their necks and Dean didn't really think that was fair. Their heads had come back. No hard feelings.
"Hm... I suppose there were," the ring-leader continued, stepping into the center of the circle. Which was cheating. Dean couldn't back up because backing up meant stepping on a leviathan's foot. And as fun as that sounded, he doubted it would be appreciated. "But then, there's the head of the girl you were supposed to be saving. So I think that means you lost."
Dean growled, guilt clawing at his chest. Because he hadn't saved her. Another innocent person was dead and Dean hadn't been able to save her. "At least I tried to do something. She was an innocent girl, you bastards-"
But his words cut off when said-girl stood up, brushing herself off, wiping the blood from her neck. "And that's why she tasted so good when I ate her," she smiled and Dean felt himself flinch because this was it. He had no back-up, no one to save him. No Sammy. No Sammy. No Sammy...
And they were definitely going to eat him.
"I'd tell you to 'bite me' but I think you're already going to so..." The leviathan's smile just widened, pointed teeth making an appearance.
"You're right. We are." And then the scorching pain erupted in his shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground. His vision grayed, spots dancing across it and he was pretty sure he heard someone scream. As he felt his body spasm, the pain running through his entire body, he could only hope that it wasn't him.
The first thing he noticed was that he was tied to something cold. The next thing he noticed was that his left shoulder was numb. After that, he decided he didn't like this game and let his head fall back against something hard, peeling his eyes open. And it wasn't until then that he realized he wasn't dead. This wasn't Hell and it definitely wasn't heaven. No matter how screwed up and painful heaven may be.
He was sitting on the floor, zip-tied to a pole as his shoulder steadily leaked blood down his chest. And as he stared at it, he could trace the teeth marks, could find where they sunk into his flesh, leaving muscle torn and mangled. Gross. That was definitely something he could have lived without seeing.
Hearing the squeaking of a door, Dean looked up, trying to ignore the onset of dizziness and nausea. It was the ring-leader again, stalking towards him with three lower ranking big-mouths following. "Oh, good. He's awake." And Dean didn't think it was particularly good. He'd have much rather been asleep still because again, not the best place in the world to wake up.
"What do you want?" Dean demanded, trying to make his voice as strong as possible. Because he wasn't dead yet which meant they had to keep him alive for some reason. And he ignored the voice in the back of his head that said it wasn't dinner time yet. They had to keep him alive, dammit. Because Sam would never forgive nor would he let him live it down if he got himself killed after being alone for less than twenty-four hours.
And Dean would never forgive himself for leaving Sam alone again, this time forever.
Though with the way his shoulder was twitching, jumping on its own, he wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to hold out.
Dean yanked his head back as the man knelt in front of him, pushing down the scream of protest that wanted to escape when his shoulder was poked. "That looks nasty... Should probably get it looked at."
"Screw you," Dean gasped through clenched teeth as the leviathan's thumb drove into one of the bite marks. "Now what the hell do you want with me?"
Pursing his lips, the man released the pressure, raising his gaze to meet Dean's. And Dean tried not to look too relieved, tried not to show how much that had hurt. But he wasn't sure it worked. Actually, he was pretty sure it hadn't because it had frigging hurt. "With you? Nothing," the leviathan answered and Dean ignored the snickering from the men behind him. And really, leviathans shouldn't snicker. It was just wrong. "Though as of now, our orders are to keep you alive."
And Dean was glad about that, would have been ecstatic if not for the but he heard at the end of that sentence. "But we also have another set of orders," the man continued and Dean felt his head yanked back, throat exposed. "The more pain you're in, the more you scream, the more attention you'll attract. And that's exactly what we want."
Then there were teeth slowly sliding into his thigh and he could feel the muscles separating, could feel teeth scratching against the bone. His head was thrown back, slammed into the pole as he cried out, fire spreading from the forming wound. Down his leg, up into his chest. Running through his veins and stomping repeatedly on every single one of his nerves. Holding his eyes closed, his chest heaved, sweat already pouring down his temples. And he knew if he opened his eyes, he would see only blackness.
After what seemed like forever, he felt the teeth pull out, the agony slowly fading from white hot to red hot. Which really wasn't much better. "Shit. Goddamnmotherf-"
"How'd that feel, Dean?" the head leviathan interrupted, patting his leg and Dean winced, breathing through his nose as he fought to control the pain. When Dean didn't answer, the creature smiled, smugness coming over his face. "Don't worry. There's more where that came from." And Dean wanted to curse and spit and kick and punch until he passed out. He wanted to so badly. But there wasn't any point. And he didn't want to waste what little strength he had left.
But when the bite came to his shoulder for the second time, he wished to a God he knew was AWOL that he would just pass out. Or die. Because his motivation to live had just flown out the window.
"I'm going to have so much fun chopping your head off," Dean slurred, head lolling on his neck. His body felt like it had been shredded, torn apart. Blood ran steadily down the side of his face, staining the collar of his shirt. Everything felt heavy, including his eyelids. Though that was probably largely due to the fact he couldn't feel his right leg at all. He could see it, knew it was there, knew there was a spreading puddle of blood underneath it. But the entire thing was useless, a dead-weight.
"Good, Dean. You keep that attitude," one of the many leviathans said. Dean wasn't even sure how many there were anymore, just that they were all swimming together to the point he was sure there were a couple conjoined twins in there. And he had to wonder how a leviathan would take over that kind of body because when there was one leviathan and two brains, did two leviathans come together and each eat half or did one leviathan eat both halves and kind of split its nonexistent soul? Which kind of made him wonder if horocruxes were real... He'd have to ask Sam...
A punch landed in his stomach, knocking the wind from his chest as he doubled over as far as he could with zip-ties holding his hands, struggling to pull in the next gulp of air. Once he did, he forced himself to laugh, spitting blood onto the floor from where he'd bitten his tongue. "Really? Weak punch. I expected more from someone with your size superiority complex. Then again, maybe you're just overcompensating."
He heard the snap of fingers and there was another hand driving into his abdomen, teeth hovering right over his shoulder, threatening to close over it for a third time.
"You think this is funny!?" the ring leader demanded, looking far more unhinged than he had moments before.
And Dean just shrugged, a heavy weight settling on his chest. "Well, have you looked in a mirror? You're all pretty funny-"
"Shut up!" the man shouted but then he was there, right in Dean's space, hand squeezing around his thigh. The pain sucked the air from Dean's lungs, leaving him kicking and pushing at the hand wrapped like a steel band around him. "Is that funny? Huh? That hurt enough for you!?" Dean wanted to say that yeah, it did. But he wouldn't, wouldn't say anything, wouldn't scream, even as his head slammed back into the pole, even as he felt his leg convulse. The hand suddenly released, barely squeezing, just enough to keep the ache going. And Dean found himself sitting forward, wondering how long it would be before his heart gave out.
Hot, blood-coated breath moved to his ear, hissing over it as the creature spoke, "Devil's riding your brother pretty hard, isn't he?" And Dean flinched before he could stop it. Because they knew about Sam. And them knowing about Sam was far more terrifying, more agonizing than anything since he'd gotten here had been. "Would you laugh if I told you it was your fault?"
The fingernails so long they might as well have been claws dug further into his legs, twisting in the torn open teeth marks. And Dean brought his good leg up, trying to wedge it between himself and the monster to get some space. But the thing just smiled, driving his elbow into it in such a way that it went numb, falling useless against the ground. "Would you laugh if I told you he had it under control until you went and screwed it up?" And Dean made the mistake of looking at the creature. Because he had to think it was lying, just like a demon. Lying to get whatever it was it wanted. But then he had to remember that if it hurt worse, a demon would tell the truth.
To make it hurt.
The creature smiled, obviously sensing the uncertainty he couldn't keep from feeling. "Though I guess we have to thank you for that." He sat back, removing his hand from Dean's leg and Dean fell back against the pole, relief coming out in every breath he panted. "If you hadn't snapped that bond you two had like it was nothing, Sam would've been able to control his connection to Lucifer and we wouldn't have your baby bro as our direct line into Hell."
Cold. God, he was so cold. And it wasn't the blood loss. It wasn't the pain. It wasn't anything but pure fear, terror that made him freeze. "Sam," Dean realized, spitting the blood in his mouth onto the floor. "Shit, you're after Sam." Chest heaving, head lolling, he was left staring up at the ceiling as the pieces clicked into place. All pieces except one. "I think you've got the wrong brother then, asshole." Not that he wasn't glad. Because they couldn't have Sam. Dean wouldn't let them have Sam.
He barely felt the backhand, even as his head snapped to the side from the force of it. And he supposed he should be worried about that. But he couldn't really find it in himself to be. "Nope. We've got the right one," he said, tapping the back of Dean's head. "You've started to rebuild it. Little Sammy has a line to Lucifer; you have a line to little Sammy. See how that works?"
And no. No, Dean really didn't. "I'm bait?" he demanded, pulling at his wrists only to feel blood run down his hands, dripping off his fingers. At least he was pretty sure it was blood. He couldn't see so he couldn't be sure.
"Very good," the man smiled, smacking Dean's leg, causing it to jump of its own accord. "Let's just say, we need your brother willing... And this is the only way to ensure he'll do as he's told."
Dean felt his lips pull up in a snarl. Because they were using him to get to Sam. They were going to use Sam. "My brother-"
"Is Lucifer's bitch," the leviathan returned and if looks could kill, Dean's life would have been so much easier. Because every single one of these damn things would have burst into flames a million times over. "Soon to be ours."
"You touch him I swear, I'll cut your body up into so many pieces there's no way in hell Humpty Dumpty will be able to put himself back together again," Dean growled, pulling at the zip-ties. But of course, nothing gave. He was still just as stuck as he had been before. Though he had hoped that the adrenaline rush would be enough to break him out. That he'd have enough strength, even with the pain and the blood loss and the severed muscles. But, even though it was impossible for him to fight any harder, he couldn't get the damn ties to break.
The leviathan gave him a patronizing smile, tapping his cheek. "Aw, Dean... You're worried about us?" He laughed, standing up. "You keep asking people to fix him. Bobby, that pretty psychic... Searching the world for someone to put him back together again... But didn't anyone ever tell you that if you break something, you gotta own up and buy it?"
And then there was a mouth around his bicep, and Dean tensed, trying to pull away. He looked up, the ringleader still standing there, staring at him. "Well, you're the one who broke him, Dean. Killing that girl? Making him think you trusted him?" He clucked his tongue. "It was all you, Dean."
Dean just shook his head, trying to force himself away from the huge teeth hovering over his shoulder. "Why do you think he's terrified of you? Saw you in Hell rather than Lucifer?" Body going tense, Dean's jaw clenched, a denial sitting on the tip of his tongue. A denial that he was more than well aware was a complete lie. A lie he'd never be able to believe.
"It's because you're his torturer. Everyday-"
"No," Dean whispered, emotions strained, pulled tight through the pain running through his body. "No."
"Oh, but it's true. You hurt him more than the devil ever could. You broke the bond. You sent him back to Hell!"
"No!" Dean shouted, but then the teeth closed over his arm and he could hear himself screaming, could feel his body seizing under the agony, both physical and mental.
And then everything went wonderfully, blessedly dark.
A/N 2: Hope you liked it!