What's up Doc? Chapter 4
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
CHAPTER 4
Sam's head lolled on his shoulders. It took Herculean effort to raise it and get his eyes open at the same time. His shoulders burned, his arms chained out to the warm stone behind him. He squirmed as a trickle of blood ran down his ribs, itching.
"Awake again? Good. Good." The voice made Sam flinch and pull against his manacled wrists. He opened his eyes finally and was assailed by both revulsion and sorrow. Russel Toomey, the late Russel Toomey's twisted face looked up at him, possessed by the spirit of a long dead sociopath Doctor. The boy was dead already, Sam was sure. The wounds he could see on Toomey left little hope that he was alive in there somewhere.
"Let me go." Sam said, as he'd said before and was rewarded with another manic, pitying smile.
"But we have so much yet to do."
Sam watched his ungainly walk to the table he had learned to hate and shivered in spite of the heat pressing on him. He silently called for Dean, holding on to the sliver of hope that his big brother would save him again before the spirit torturing him moved on to inhabit him.
"Now, where were we?" It asked him conversationally.
"Russel…" Sam pleaded in vain with the dead eyes.
"Dr. Lemke." Russel's face frowned. "If you will insist on speaking to me, you will use my name." The Doctor raised an old scalpel to Sam's bare chest; his shirt had been cut off hours ago and lay in a bloodied lump on the table. Sam gasped as the scalpel bit into his chest. He panted, heaving air in and out as it carved into him. He whimpered in relief when it stopped and then screamed. The Doctor grabbed hold of the freshly cut skin and ripped it from Sam's chest in a long strip.
He patted Sam's head absently like he was a dog. "Well done." He went to his macabre trophy wall and smiled. There were dozens, perhaps hundreds of long flaps of darkened skin stuck to the wall. It was like some crazy patchwork of skin. Most of them were long dried and dessicated but a few, like Sam's as he tacked that up were still fresh or wet with blood.
Sam couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes. The pain of being skinned was immense. He had an idea what was waiting him from the damage evident on poor Russel's body and he closed his eyes, choking down the fear. The Doctor had explained to him that he must understand what makes the Indian different from the white man, must find better ways to hurt him. Sam had tried to reason with the thing, to explain that the people he was hurting weren't Indians, didn't deserve this even if they were, but the Doctor was too far gone to understand. He prayed silently again for Dean, for his Dad, for anyone to find him. Blood caked his wrists beneath the manacles from his struggles and he pulled again, trying to slip at least one of his hands free, swallowing the moan as the pain shot down his arms.
Sam jerked his head back at the hand suddenly on his chin. Doctor Lemke stared up at him with Russel's foggy eyes, another scalpel in his hand.
"No." Sam pressed his back to the wall trying to get away in vain. The scalpel dug into his chest, slicing along one of his ribs and Sam cried out. The ghost actually smiled up at him briefly, pleased with the sound. Sam struggled for breath past the pain as the Doctor set aside the scalpel and picked up a small chisel and hammer. "No. Please." Sam breathed. He could see down his chest to the now exposed length of rib. "Stop…stop." He cringed back and gave into the scream as the chisel was placed against his rib and the hammer made its first tap-tap. Sam felt his rib chip, crack and mercifully passed out.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Sam came around again with a gasp when lukewarm water was dumped over his head. "Wake up." Toomey's distorted voice growled. His rotting, fetid breath in Sam's face made his stomach churn and sent new waves of agony through the open wound in his chest. A cold hand slapped his face and Sam groaned, rolling his head away and back against the wall. If he'd had any moisture in his body, he'd have thrown it up happily but he was parched. He greedily licked what littler water he could from his lips.
"Better results if you're awake." Doctor Lemke said with Russel's mouth. "Have skin and bone. Now we need blood." He pinned Sam's left arm to the wall in a steel grip. "Do try and stay awake this time."
Sam's eyes rolled upward as the scalpel flashed toward his arm. Weak dawn light shone through the lone, small window above. "Dean." Sam moaned and cried out at the bite of the blade. It cut across his bicep as the Doctor carefully nicked his Brachial artery. He took a bowl from the floor and held it beneath Sam's arm as the blood pumped in quick spurts.
Sam's head twitched in time to each beat of his heart. He watched the light strengthen in the little window above as his head began to swim with the blood loss. Russel's possessed body set the bowl carefully on the table and looked up once more at Sam's straining face and nodded, pleased his subject was still conscious. He took up the remains of Sam's shirt and tore a strip then tied it tightly around the bleeding wound in his arm. "Wouldn't want you expiring before I'm finished." Sam ground his teeth against the pain and glared down at him.
"When I get out of this, I'm going to kill you." Sam growled it at him. He was tired of the torture and pain and borrowed his brother's ability to piss anyone off, throwing it at the spirit. "You are one sick twist." He spit blood from his split lip into the Doctor's face, watching him jerk back with a smile.
"Stop it." Doctor Lemke wiped the blood from his cheek.
"I'll bet you screamed like a little girl when they finally killed your pathetic ass." Sam grinned at him and grunted at the blow to his stomach. Pain lanced up from his chest, throwing stars across his vision but he ignored them. "This is how you get it up, isn't it?" He tugged and pulled at the manacles holding him while the Doctor seethed with rage in front of him. "Getting off on this aren't you?"
"I said STOP!" The spirit hurled Russel's fist into Sam's face. Sam felt blood gush from his nose as his head rocked back to slap into the stone. "You will…be…silent." Each word was punctuated by a hit to Sam's abused body.
Sam gasped for air like a starving man and made himself speak through it. He needed to keep the psycho distracted. He'd felt his right hand slip, just a little, into the manacle. "Is that all you got? Killing you? Not even gonna be a challenge." He choked on a scream then as the Doctor's hand dug into the wound over his rib. His hand twisted and pushed and scraped along the bone and Sam finally gave in and screamed up at the little window. He screamed for his big brother.
"DEAN!"
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Click for Part 5: