Chapter Nine
Sam woke slowly, shivering and groggy from the anesthetic. His mouth was a dry as cotton and his head pounded. His eyes were throbbing and felt two sizes too big for their sockets.
Sam took a deep breath to try and calm himself but let out a hacking cough instead. He leaned forward, realizing that he was sitting up- someone had propped his back against the wall- on the cot in his room.
Something's wrong, something's wrong with my eyes; the realization caused fear to fill up Sam's belly like ice water.
Trying to open his eyes, Sam frowned- the lids wouldn't cooperate and he felt something like tape tugging on his cheeks. His heart began to race as the fear began to turn into panic.
"No," Sam whispered, "God, please no. Please, please."
Tears pooled in his eyes and slipped down his cheeks. Sam tried to lift his hand to wipe away the wetness on his face when he realized that he couldn't move his arms, they were wrapped around him, pinned down.
Sam began to shift uncomfortably, frantically in the confining blanket.
No, Sam thought as he heard the metallic clink of buckles and the squeak of leather, it's not a blanket, it's a jacket.
It's a straightjacket.
For one moment Sam entertained the idea that he might actually be insane and everything that had happened could be just a really vivid hallucination but quickly dismissed it- the past weeks had been far too real to be a delusion.
"That's just stupid," Sam croaked, "If I'm crazy that doesn't explain hunting with Dad and Dean."
Sam started to laugh- helplessly, hopelessly- even as tears continued to stream from his swollen eyes.
Sam leaned back against the wall, nervously shifting his trapped arms and drifted into an exhausted slumber.
W
Sam woke, frowning, and wiggled uncomfortably on the cot. He had to pee.
"Shit," Sam muttered. His eyes didn't feel any better than they had when he'd first woken up from the anesthesia and his headache seemed only to have gotten worse.
Now the call of nature was adding to his discomfort. Even if Sam managed to stand up and find his way across the room to the bedpan, his arms were pinned, preventing him from pulling his pants down.
Sam didn't really see many options. He could wait for someone- an orderly or a nurse- to check up on him (doubtful) and take off the straightjacket or he could go in his pants like a little kid.
The thought of wetting himself caused Sam's pale cheeks to flush with colour.
It's no more embarrassing than having a thermometer shoved where the sun don't shine, Sam told himself; besides, it wouldn't really be my fault, I don't have any choice in the matter.
Still, Sam decided to hold on and see if anyone would come.
He waited a long time.
SPN
Dean looked up, surprised, when State Detective Deacon Kaylor walked into the Roadhouse.
For a minute the officer looked uncertain that he'd come to the right place as he took in the small group of hunters before catching sight of John and making a bee-line for him.
"What are you doing here, Deke?" the eldest Winchester asked, looking genuinely concerned.
"I want to help," Deke said simply, "I want to see these guys put away as much as you do."
Before either John or Deacon could say anything else, Caleb Blacker spoke up, "More like put down than put away!"
Deacon Kaylor's eyebrows rose in shock but John grumbled, "Ignore him."
"Let me help, John," Deke continued, "I can have the authorities on Dunhill so fast it will make those bastards' heads spin."
John frowned; he didn't want the state police or, God forbid, the Feds involved. If that happened there would be hundreds of questions, hours of interrogations- they might even want to talk to Sam- and that all sent up red flags for the hunter.
"Deke," John began, "I really appreciate you doing this. I do, I mean, we haven't even seen each other since the war ended but I want to… no, I need to do things my way. I'm in a dangerous position here, you understand. Just… if you want to bring the Feds or whoever in on this, that's fine but let me get Sam and put some distance between Dunhill and my family. That's all I ask."
The Ohio State Detective mulled over the proposition for a moment before nodding.
"I think I can do that," he said finally and John smiled, "Let me introduce you to some of my friends from work."
SPN
Sam stiffened when he heard the sound of his door being unlocked. Two sets of footsteps marched across the tile floor and strong arms grabbed him and pulled him up.
"Bates wants this off before we take 'im down," one man- Elridge- grunted right in Sam's ear.
The youngest Winchester remained silent as the orderly fiddled with the buckles and straps and quickly extricated his arms from the jacket.
Sam couldn't help but breathe a small sigh of relief.
"You're not gonna give us any trouble, now are you?" the other orderly asked and Sam started to shake his head but stopped when a spike of pain drove itself through the top of his skull.
The orderlies grabbed Sam's arms and he staggered after them as he was led blindly down the hall.
The trio stopped and Sam felt his legs wobble weakly. He hadn't eaten anything since before Bates had taken his kidney and he was starving. He hoped that when the doctor was done with him, he'd get some food.
Sam was ushered into the elevator and stood between the two burly orderlies. After a moment, one of the men sniffed the air and made a sound of disgust.
"Smells like piss," the unknown orderly ground out and Sam bowed his head in shame.
The elevator pinged and Sam heard the door slide open. He was pulled down the hall- which hall? Was he going to the room with the dentist's chair or the operating room?- without putting up his usual fight. He didn't have the strength to fight. Not now.
The orderlies pushed the doors open and Bates' voice greeted Sam, "Ah, you're early! That's a first!"
Elridge grunted, "That's 'cause he didn't fight us."
"Hm," Bates said, "Seems you've finally learned to behave. Makes everything so much easier, yes?"
It took a moment before Sam realized the doctor wanted him to answer.
"Yes," Sam whispered, his heart hammering in his chest, making his eyes throb again.
Bates chuckled and the told the orderlies to get Sam in the chair. Sam allowed the men to guide him to the chair and then push him down so that he was sitting. He didn't fight when they grabbed his arms and strapped them down, either.
Sam jumped when he felt Bates' cold hands on his face, peeling away the medical tape that held the gauze patches over his eyes.
"Open," Bates ordered and Sam slowly slid his sore eyes open and saw… nothing. Well, not nothing, everything seemed to be hidden beneath a grey-white fog.
"Oh!" Bates exclaimed as he stared at the boy's once-green eyes. Now the irises were a pale, milky white. He took the penlight from his breast pocket and shone the beam in the boy's eyes, frowning slightly when his pupils failed to react.
"Oh," the doctor repeated as though the result was merely a mild disappointment instead of a life-changing disability.
Sam's hands clenched into fists and he began panting, nearly hyperventilating in panic.
I can't see! I'm blind! Please God let this be a nightmare! This can't be happening! What did I do wrong? What did I do to deserve this? Please, someone tell me!
Bates shone the light in Sam's eyes again, ignoring the tears which now streamed down the boy's face.
That's why his friends had asked him to try the corneas out on a human subject first- to prevent such unfortunate outcomes in the future.
Instead of taking any blood, Bates simply administered a dose of strong antibiotic and told the orderlies to take Sam downstairs to get cleaned up.
Sam was in a daze as he was practically dragged down the hall and into the elevator again. He sagged in the orderlies' grip but he didn't care.
"Maybe Bates should blind every kid," Elridge snickered, "It'd sure be a hell of a lot easier to control 'em."
The other orderly chuckled in response and jostled Sam's arm, "Sure worked with this 'un."
"As meek as a lamb, ain't ya?" Elridge mocked but Sam didn't have the strength to get angry.
Sam didn't really feel anything, just numb, as if all his insides had been scooped out.
He was jerked forward when the elevator reached the proper floor and he was pulled down a hallway that he couldn't see. The orderlies shoved through a pair of double doors and gestured to a couple of technicians- the same two who had processed Sam the night he'd first arrived.
"What do you want?" a new voice asked and Sam lifted his head slightly.
"Bates wants him cleaned up," Elridge told the technician, "Kid pissed himself."
"What's wrong with his eyes?" the female technician asked in a shocked and slightly disgusted voice.
"Bates felt like channeling his inner Frankenstein; what's it to you?" Elridge snapped, "Just do your job and send him back upstairs."
The sounds of receding footsteps alerted Sam to the fact that the orderlies were leaving. He flinched when he felt a gloved hand grab his chin and turn his head.
"C'mon," the second technician- a man- grumbled, "We don't have time to wait around for you to admire the good doctor's work all day."
The woman's hand moved from Sam's jaw to his arm while her partner took hold of his other arm.
Sam made no protest as he was led toward the shower stalls and the technicians took his soiled clothes off. A brisk shove sent Sam underneath the spray of the showerhead and he gasped in shock when hot water hit him. Minutes later two pairs of hands grabbed him and pulled him away from the shower, quickly dressing him in clean clothes.
In shock, Sam was hustled down the hall once again and into the elevator. He shivered as the water on his skin evaporated in the cool air and blinked his unseeing eyes, willing them to clear.
Sam didn't even remember the remainder of the trip to his room. He fell to his knees, cracking them painfully against the hard tile floor of his prison, and raised his hands to his eyes.
Sam touched his eyelids, fingertips brushing the lashes in horrified amazement that only two days before he had been able to see.
Sam felt tears roll down his cheeks and drip off his face but they didn't wash away the terrible whiteness that obscured his vision like an unending blizzard.
Curling up after what seemed like hours of desperate prodding and praying, Sam kept his hands over his eyes protectively, hoping that maybe, just maybe he'd have his sight back when he woke up. That this was just a temporary side-effect of the doctor's surgery and it would pass like the pain in his side was passing.
You don't really believe that, do you? Sam thought to himself.
No, I don't; Sam admitted and closed his eyes, falling into a fretful doze.
SPN
Ellen Harvelle followed the small group of hunters across the expansive grounds of the Dunhill Psychiatric Hospital. Nighttime dew coated the grass and soaked her jeans but Ellen hardly noticed.
What are you doing, girl? She thought, you're no hunter.
Although Ellen had never killed a wendigo or exorcised a demon, she felt a strong desire to help John and Dean rescue Sam.
Keeping her shotgun close, Ellen squinted at Caleb Blacker jogging ahead of her.
Ellen's late husband Bill had taught her to shoot, believing that she needed to know how to protect herself and their daughter whenever he went away on hunting trips.
Ellen had never even shot a living thing before, her victims had always been beer bottles and empty bean cans.
Why am I doing this? Ellen wondered as they snuck across a gravel path, following it away from the main building- Cathcart Hall- that she recalled from Ash's debriefing.
Ellen certainly wasn't doing this for John. She was just shy of hating the man. He had been with her Bill on his last hunt and although Ellen didn't doubt that John was telling the truth and that Bill's death had been a horrible accident, she couldn't find it herself to forgive him. John was a hunter, damn it! He had known better and his mistake had cost her husband his life.
No, Ellen wasn't doing this for John. She was doing this for Sam. Someone she had never met but felt the insatiate desire to help. Sam, who by all accounts had never done anyone a bad turn in his life, whose only crime was leaving for Stanford. No one deserved to be treated like livestock, to be dehumanized into a sack of organs with a price tag instead of a name.
Ellen found herself blinking tears out of her eyes. She couldn't imagine how she would feel if someone took her daughter and even though she might (almost) hate John Winchester she also pitied him. Whatever the man had done, he didn't deserve to have his youngest child cut up and thrown away like garbage.
Besides, she thought, there is enough evil in this world without men adding to the pile.
Ellen was starting to think that they had gotten lost or Ash had the wrong address when a large grey building rose up ahead of them.
Most of the lights in the windows were out but Ellen could see a dim yellow glow coming from the main floor. She tightened her grip on her shotgun and her eyes darted to the trees lining the path in search of enemies.
John made the signal to stop and the group halted instantly. Peering around shoulders and backs, Ellen saw that the lobby of North Hall appeared to be deserted except for a single nurse working the night-shift. She sat behind an old oak desk that was surrounded by a mesh cage.
Ellen recalled that the patients in this residence were supposed to be violent then turned as John spoke in a rapid-fire whisper.
"Deke and Joshua are going to go around the back and see if there's a way to get in that way," he told them- the two men in question nodded and slipped away into the darkness- before turning around with his head cocked to one side as though listening for a signal.
Ellen watched as Dean leaned in close to his father and muttered something; John shook his head and Dean rolled his shoulders before nodding.
An owl hooted twice before going silent and John motioned the group forward. Ellen raised her eyebrows; she hadn't expected the slightly ragtag group to be this organized.
Ellen ended up near the front of the rescue team and saw Joshua and Ohio State Detective Kaylor- a trusted friend of John's- standing beside a heavy grey door.
Joshua had the door propped open with his foot and he was grinning somewhat manically in the darkness.
John gave the two men thumbs up and opened the door wider, ushering everyone inside. Ellen stepped into the North Hall and saw that they were standing in a quiet hallway with speckled, tile floors and bare light blue walls. The corridor was dim and John motioned them to move toward the yellow light at the end of it- the lobby.
Ellen's heart began to beat harder as they crept forward, and tightened her grip on her gun.
"This is a restricted area! You can't be in here!" the nurse called as she saw the group advancing down the hall toward her.
Stepping into the lobby proper, John raised his gun and pointed it at the woman's face.
"Don't move. Where are the kids?" his voice was deadly calm and it sent shivers down Ellen's back.
The nurse narrowed her eyes at John but didn't reply.
The look on the eldest Winchester's face would have reduced Ellen to tears- if it had been directed at her- but the woman in the nurse's uniform simply sniffed, "I don't know what you're talking about. This is a mental health facility."
John pulled back the hammer, "That bullshit's not going to work on me. Now, tell me where the kids are being kept. One, two…"
The woman didn't say anything but pointed over her head. It was vague but at least they knew what direction to go in.
"Ellen," John called and she moved forward, "Stay here and watch her. Shoot her in the knee if she tries to make a run for it; the head if she tries to call for backup."
Something in Ellen froze at the idea of a woman being involved in something as awful as organ trafficking and she nodded, raising her gun to point it at the nurse.
Ellen listened as the group moved silently past and took a deep, steadying breath. She didn't know how long they would be but her anger gave her energy and she thought she might be able to stay like this the entire night.
The nurse stared at her and moved to sit back down in her swivel chair.
"I wouldn't try that if I were you," Ellen warned and the woman froze.
This was going to be a long night.
SPN
"Dean, you go with Caleb and find Sam," John instructed his son in a whisper as they took the elevator up, "The rest of us will deal with the staff."
Dean nodded and Caleb placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder.
For no other reason other than it would be convenient to start at the top and work their way down, John hit the button for the highest floor.
Dean stared down at the floor of the elevator between his feet and wondered if his brother had ever ridden in this very lift.
While they waited, Deke pulled walkie-talkies out of the pack he was carrying. John looked slightly surprised but then smiled.
Dean was handed his and turned it on.
"Once you find your brother we can make a quick getaway," Deacon explained in a whisper, "And this will prevent anyone from becoming lost."
The elevator stopped suddenly and pinged, its doors sliding open to reveal a long hallway lined with metal doors.
"Bingo," Caleb whispered and stepped out of the lift with Dean right behind him.
The young men were off even before the elevator doors had shut and were peering through the wire-reinforced windows into the rooms- which were thankfully mostly empty- and hoping that Sam was in one of them.
"Hey! What are you doing here?" a gruff voice startled Dean and he turned to see a large man in a white orderlies' uniform step off the elevator.
Caleb gave Dean a good shove and hissed at him to keep moving.
"I can take care of this gorilla," Caleb smiled and Dean turned away, searching for his brother.
Dean was starting to think that maybe they had arrived too late, that Sam had been killed (terminated) when he peered hopefully into the last room.
"Ohmygod!" Dean gasped, and reached for the door handle. Locked, of course. The mechanism wasn't even that difficult to pick and Dean had the door flung open in a matter of seconds.
"Sammy!" Dean said loudly, staring at his brother. Sam was folded into the fetal position on the white-tile floor, wearing a pair of dark blue pants and a white t-shirt. His hands were up near his face and curled in half-fists.
Dropping to his knees beside his brother, Dean took hold of one of Sam's bony shoulders- he was too thin- and shook him awake.
Sam's eyes flew open and he gave a startled cry, scooting away from Dean on his butt, his hands held out in front of him.
"Ple-please," Sam begged, "Not again… please."
Dean stared at his brother's face- his eyes- in horror.
What the fuck had these bastards done to him?
"Sammy?" Dean said quietly and reached out, latching onto one of Sam's icy hands.
"D-Dean?" Sam choked and blinked, "Is it really you?"
A lump formed in Dean's through and he couldn't swallow it, "Yeah, Sammy, it's really me. Dad's looking for whoever's running the show. We're getting you get you out of here."
Tears began leaking from Sam's eyes and he pulled Dean closer.
Dean wrapped his arms gently around his brother and hugged him for a long moment.
"We have to leave," Dean pulled away and stood, taking hold of his brother's hand.
Sam, still crying, stood shakily and walked cautiously as Dean led him out of the room.
"You found him!" Caleb popped his head out of one of the rooms, closing the door after himself, smiling when it locked automatically.
"Yeah," Dean said, his voice a mixture of happiness and sadness.
Caleb caught sight of Sam's eyes and frowned. To his credit, the hunter kept his mouth shut.
"What you do with the gorilla?" Dean asked Caleb.
Smirking, the older man jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "Gave him a taste of his own medicine."
Dean peered in the window to see the large man sprawled out on the floor, a goose egg already beginning to swell on his forehead.
"I think it's time we got the hell out of here," Dean said and Caleb took the walkie-talkie.
"The tuna is in the can," the hunter said confidently and Dean couldn't help but smirk.
"You found Sam?" Bobby Singer's voice cracked to life.
"That's what it means," Caleb said in an exasperated tone, "Don't you ever watch spy movies, old man?"
"This ain't no time to be fucking around, Blacker!" Bobby snarled and Caleb sniggered.
"Did you find the ringleader?" Dean asked and felt Sam's hand tighten around his.
"Yup," Bobby replied, "An' let's just say he won't be making it for his court date."
Dean wished he had been there to see the asshole get what was coming to him but he knew that his brother was more important than a front-row seat to the scumbag's execution.
"D'n?" Sam's whispery voice had his brother whipping around in time to see the kid crumple to the floor.
"Shit!' Dean swore and crouched down, heaving his brother up- he seemed to weigh almost nothing at all, he was just gangly- with Sam's head resting against his right arm and his knees over his left. Caleb carefully moved Sam's left arm to drape it across Dean's neck and drew in a sharp breath when he saw the bruising on his inner-elbow.
"C'mon," Dean muttered and marched toward the elevator. As they waited for the lift to arrive, Dean looked down at his brother. He was safe now. No one was going to take Sam away from him again. If they tried, they'd have one seriously pissed off big brother to answer to.
Author's Note:
1. Thanks to MysteryMadchen, mandancie, reannablue, Sparkiebunny, LotRia, doyleshuny, cold kagome, Samstruck, 2012summerstar, L.A.H.H, DjinnAtwood, SamDeanLover28, zoneofk, NAVILLUS, Miabug, judyann, BranchSuper, SPN Mum, Souless666, AlxM and Guests for reviewing.
2. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favourited, and/or followed this story.
3. I love reviews!