Shadows 08
MAJOR WARNING for this one (though nothing graphic)!
- Sam -
Dean stood in a modern, spacious kitchen, his lower back resting against a counter. Taylor was handing Sam’s underage brother a beer. “Here you go.” Their fingers brushed.
“Sam, please let’s leave,” Cas repeated firmly, once he regained sense of their surroundings. Sam bit the inside of his cheek. His eyes flickered toward the scene, where Dean accepted the beer with a sad smile, taking a gulp. “Thanks.”
“What’s up with the long face?” Taylor braced his arm against the counter right next to Dean, way too close.
Dean sighed. “Sammy doesn’t want to move. He begged me to talk to dad ‘cause apparently, he listens to me more… which is total bull-nonsense, of course.”
“Come on, man.” Benny stepped forward. Sam regarded the vampire, his eyes sliding over to Castiel again. The angel showed him his back now. Cas’ attention had turned to Dean, of course. It was like he couldn’t help himself, to be in the same room as Dean and not watch him for the majority of the time he was in it. He observed Dean’s and Taylor’s interaction with narrowed eyes. Cas had said he was having a bad feeling about the course of the memories as well, and wanted to leave. Sam’s one half insisted that they’d come too far to backpedal. He had learned more about Dean than in all the years spent by his side. The other half though saw Cas, had heard the worry in his voice, and was afraid of the knowledge the memories were offering.
“Ah, this is your last night. No need to watch your tongue,” Taylor said.
Dean’s eyes sparkled. “Fucking really?”
Taylor turned to face him wholly, setting his bear aside onto the counter. “You got beer, you can swear.” He drank from his own and… stared. He stared at Dean like he was the last meal in the world.
Sam could hear his own shallow breaths. Dean looked so young. Even in the environment they’d grown in, he still had the air of innocence about him. He already acted like the self-assured and cocky teenager Sam well remembered, but the unsure glances and quick sweeps of tongue over his lips Dean didn’t quite manage to cover.
Sam decided. In the end, it was far too easy to decide. He didn’t want to witness the innocence being taken away, and that’s exactly what was happening with each new memory. They should leave. Cas and Benny were right. They should have left a long time ago.
“Yea-“ His voice stuck in his throat. He had to clear it. The scene evolving in front of him monopolized all of his attention. “Yeah, we should-“
Dean rubbed his cheek nervously with his free hand, conscious of Taylor watching him. “What. Do I have something on my face?”
“Freckles, actually,” Taylor responded, like it was the most natural thing to say.
Sam tried again. “We should…” But he trailed off. He was supposed to at least say the words, he knew that, or think the order to get him, Cas and Benny out. But his brain came to halt.
Dean snorted but the sound died quickly when Taylor took his chin in a hand, gently at first, turning rough very fast. He raised Dean’s head and crowded in, leaning down as if to-
Dean yanked out of his hold abruptly, the beer dropping down, splashing their feet. His lower back hit the counter with a loud bang that made Sam shrink involuntarily. Dean glanced behind himself quickly in panic. When he realized it was the counter caging him, he glared back at Taylor sharply, only a slight quiver in his voice giving away the initial shock. “What the fuck was that?”
Taylor cocked his head like the answer was obvious, and Dean was being deliberately stupid not to realize it. “What I’ve wanted to do every damn second since you first entered my house.” He grabbed Dean by his jaw again, digging hard in his cheeks. Dean looked at the man, wide-eyed, shell-shocked. He did nothing to free himself this time, was frozen in place, just like everyone beside Taylor was.
“Do you have any idea how hard it was to listen to you whining about your daddy and little brother?” Taylor pushed Dean against the counter, aligning their bodies. He whispered in Dean’s ear in a mocking voice. “Dad doesn’t answer when I call... Dad doesn’t care about me... Dad doesn’t need me...” Dean’s fingers gripped hard the edge of the counter. His knuckles turned white. He was staring right at Sam. It wasn’t possible, this was a memory, but Sam swore those terrified eyes were fixed on his. “Dad likes Sammy the best,” Taylor breathed, and Dean shuddered. Sam felt a shudder of his own run through him in a reaction. “Blah, blah, blah... All I wanted to do was bend you over the hood of my car, and instead, I had to act like your nice buddy… But you know what? Patience. Pays. Off.”
Taylor brought his face back to look Dean in the eye, sharing his breath. The space between them was almost nonexistent and still, Dean hadn’t moved. “That’s the best ‘bout boys like you. The problems… the family issues… They make you weak, vulnerable, and so,” their breathings picked up, Dean’s from fear, Taylor’s from arousal, “sweet.”
“Ch-christo,” Dean stuttered.
Taylor frowned in confusion. “You’re weird…” He smirked then. “Fortunately, I like that. It keeps things… interesting.” He pressed his lips against Dean’s forcefully opened mouth, digging fingers into his cheeks to keep it open, and Dean finally, finally, snapped out of the trance. He clutched at the hand holding him, applying pressure at the nerves dad had taught them about. Taylor released him with a hiss of pain. Right that second, Dean hooked his foot behind Taylor’s knee and shot out a hand to shove the son of a bitch backwards. It would have worked. Except Taylor was a marine, prepared to fight even if his body seemed loose and relaxed. He grabbed Dean’s hand in mid-air and spun him around, squeezing Dean’s other hand together with the captured one. Dean groaned in pain as the counter dug into his stomach, his feet scraping the floor to regain lost balance.
Taylor blanketed Dean’s whole body with his own, putting all his weight into it, forcing the air out of him. He laughed. “You realize you’re no match for me, don’t you, Deano?”
Dean writhed futilely, s stream of hissed curses running from his mouth. Taylor groaned at the created friction. “How about we take it somewhere else, hm?” He looked at the kitchen’s windows, making it easy for a curious neighbor to see what was going on inside. “I’ve always wanted to try it in front of the fireplace, what d’you say?”
“… Sam.”
“We have plenty of time tonight,” Taylor breathed. “The things I’m gonna do to you. Bet you’ve never got a taste of a proper man.”
Dean struggled stubbornly against the weight pinning him to the counter, only succeeding in making Taylor laugh in reaction to the created friction. “You little slut, you can’t wait, can you?”
“Sam.”
Sam blinked. He’d zoned out, shut down. He’d tried to comprehend the situation. The swarm of emotions it evoked. They got him stuck, literally.
It had been Castiel who’d said his name, God knows how many times. Sam should turn around to see what was wrong with the angel. Instead, he stared with eerie emptiness as Taylor yanked Dean by his hair, forcing him to stand up on wobbly legs. He shoved him toward the living room.
Dean fought, of course he fought. Sam’s brother was a fighter. He was like a wild animal desperate to do anything to escape a predator, and it showed. There was kicking and shouting, punching the thin air. One moment, Dean elbowed the man, knocking the breath out of him. Nothing helped him get away. Taylor was stronger, faster. He caught Dean, enclosing his arms around Dean’s body, pressing him back against his chest, dragging him out of the room. He clasped a hand over his mouth to muffle the shouts.
Sam could do absolutely nothing, but watch and dig his fingernails into the palms. He felt useless. He was useless.
There was a door Taylor had to open to get to what was presumably a living room; a door, which once was closed again, left them in a ridiculously empty room, accompanied by subdued sounds and curses. Sam looked at the door. He should be accusing it of separating him from his brother.
He was thanking whatever god would listen the door was there.
It was one thing to know what had to be happening behind. It was another to see. It would break Sam, there was no doubt. And Sam would let it break him. It would be his punishment. He’d deserve it for not knowing all the time, for not being there, here, for abandoning Dean. For coming here against Dean’s wish. Dean hadn’t wanted to let him in, and this was the reason why. It had to be, nothing worse Sam could imagine happening to his brother.
The muffled swearing, the creaking of the wooden floor and crashing of what certainly must have been expensive glass decorations; the noises of moving, fighting, the grunting-Sam took it all in, his brain greedily storing the sounds for the nightmares that’d come later.
Dean’s shouts of No! and Get off me! and My dad’s gonna fucking kill you! rose above those other noises, cutting deep in Sam. He was unable to force his body into action. He’d known, felt, Taylor was wrong somehow, but nothing could have prepared him for… for this. He craved to go over there, throw the door open and fucking kill the son of a bitch. The primal instinct urged him to protect Dean, save him then cuddle him and not let him go.
A shadowed form loomed in the corner of his eye. Sam gasped as he saw Cas going to the door with an evident intention to step through. The angel’s eyes had a manic glaze about them, and his body moved slowly and stiffly, like he was being hypnotized. Sam reached out with his shaking hand. He wanted to scream for Cas to get back, not to go through. Nothing came out. He lost the words.
“Castiel!” someone shouted instead of him. Benny. And while Cas seemed not to hear anything-the last part of trench coat disappearing through the door-Sam’s heart paced up to the point of being painful. He should do something but his legs wouldn’t move. His mouth wouldn’t open.
Benny cursed and shouted after Cas again. It was so strange to hear the vampire use Cas’ name, like Benny forgot all his rules he stubbornly stuck to.
Sam managed to tear his eyes off of the door, searching for the vampire. His moves were heavy, uncoordinated. The room was spinning around him like in a dream. He felt sick. The moment his gaze fell on where Benny had been, the vampire was gone. He moved supernaturally fast through the door, vanishing after Cas. Sam gaped at the empty spot that remained after him. He was left alone with the muffled sounds of fighting ringing in his ears. Benny’s raised-yelled-voice added to the noise, urging Cas to get the hell back, to not look.
Sam clutched at his stomach. What had they done… oh God, what had he done? He should have never come here. It wouldn’t go away now. It would stay, and Sam would forever remember.
Benny reappeared. He pushed Cas with his hand, moving him backwards back into the kitchen. The angel seemed not to notice. His eyes were trained on the door, wild.
“You get us out of here,” Benny hissed.
Sam blinked at him, his voice shaky, unrecognizable to his own ears and barely audible. “W-what?”
“Get us out. Now!”
“But…” we don’t know if it’ll work… I can’t think… I can’t force the words out…
“NOW!”
Sam’s vision blurred, the room sped up on spinning like it was trying to win a race. His stomach rolled sickeningly. “Dean needs me.”
Benny let Castiel go and shoved Sam in the chest. He used his inhuman strength, and Sam stumbled backwards. It was a miracle he hadn’t toppled over. “He doesn’t need you here.” Benny shoved him again. “He doesn’t want you here.” Another shove. “He-“
The vampire stopped abruptly, hand inches away from Sam. “Oh hell no.”
Sam watched Benny with confusion. Then he felt it. The air was vibrating around them, became warmer with energy of two objects rubbing against each other, like a static electricity, the tension almost touchable. “What’s happening?”
“Sam…”
Sam followed Cas’ voice. The heavy power was rolling off of the angel, who stood unmoving and stared at the door. He was the epicenter, there was no doubt. Sam neared his friend carefully. The closer to him, the more charged the air became. It was hard to breathe where the angel stood. Sam turned his back to the door and the sounds coming from the living room. He’d hoped it would help him ignore them, but some higher force decided the torment wasn’t over yet.
“Cas?”
The angel’s face was impossibly rigid, no twitch disrupting the stony impression, except the ever-expressive eyes. And even they showed only a fraction of the distress he had to be feeling inside. Sam could tell because he felt the same. It was too much for the angel to process, and Cas projected his inner emotions the only way he was able to; through his power. He stared at the door without a single movement. Sam put a hand on his shoulder, coaxing Cas into looking at him instead, but hissed in pain when the electric energy flowing from the angel burned his skin where he’d touched Cas. He released him abruptly and took a step back.
At least he’d succeeded in making Cas focus elsewhere than the damn door when the angel turned his head to him, though Sam wasn’t sure the angel really saw him. “It hurts,” Cas said in a strangled voice, the blue of his irises painfully clear.
What hurt?
“Inside… so much…” Cas yanked at the front of his shirt like he wanted to rip it off. Benny was there, trying to calm him down in vain. Cas didn’t notice his presence. He convulsed in pain. “I can’t explain... I-I don’t know what to do.”
Energy crackled through the room. It felt like hundreds of needles were stabbing in Sam’s skin. The heat from the tension became nearly unbearable. A bead of sweat broke on his brow, trickling down. Sam now truly started panicking. It loosened his tongue. “Cas, dammit. Stop it, you hear me? You need to calm down!”
Cas screwed his eyes tightly shut. When he opened them, it was to look at the door with such fury Sam’s legs made an involuntary retreat another step backward. He saw Benny do the same. It had to be the first time the vampire was really afraid of Cas.
“I want to kill him, Sam,” the angel said belligerently. Sam’s hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Only once before had he been truly scared of Castiel in every sense of the word, and that was when the Leviathans took over Cas’ body and the angel had proclaimed himself God. This, now, was the second time. “I’ve never experienced this strong… wrath,” Castiel hissed. “In my thousands years of service, I’ve never-I want to kill a human, Sam, I want to pull his heart out and crush it. I want to bury my hands in his insides and rip them out.”
Sam raised his hands in a nonthreatening manner. He glanced helplessly at Benny, no answer there, then back. “Cas-Cas, listen to me. You need to calm down. You’re not stable like this.”
Dean’s voice rose above theirs again, this time scared, no longer threatening or cursing, instead begging to stop, no and please… please, no…
It started loud. It died away quickly.
Cas groaned in pain and fell to his knees, fury giving way to desperation and pain. It was like watching a schizophrenic, one part ready to tear to shreds, the other pathetically afraid, like a child. “Sam, help me, Sam,” he pleaded, “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never-It hurts so much.”
“Get us out of here!” Benny yelled over Cas’ voice.
The room shook. The memory room shook and it shouldn’t have been possible. A buzz-like sound echoed around the walls. It grew with intensity, getting louder and louder. It started to hurt physically. Sam couldn’t breathe, his dry mouth choking on the heat. He covered his ears in a vain attempt to protect himself from the painful buzz, from the echoes of Dean’s cries. His body hurt from strain and heat, needles stinging everywhere. He crouched down. It was all he could do. Cas was right. It was too painful.
“He’s gonna hurt Dean like this!”
Sam looked up at Benny in horror. It was like a slap to wake him up. Cas’ gonna hurt Dean.
A panic gripped his insides. He had to get them out of Dean’s head. Now. The room shook again while Cas’ power continued leashing out. Not a damn piece of furniture moved from its place, but the memory itself started cracking. Castiel’s power was thrusting violently out-however he managed to do that-and it could hurt Dean.
Benny whirled at Sam, and tugged him harshly up to feet, his eyes dark. “Do something, dammit!” he growled, fingers digging into Sam’s shoulders. Bruises would form there. Sam accepted the ache. He felt nauseous-it was a wonder he hadn’t thrown up yet-and this type of purposeful pain helped him focus a little better.
Castiel’s energy kept growing, vibrating around them, getting more and more over the top, threatening to spill out. Sam clenched his hands around his stomach to keep himself in check, concentrating on Benny’s fingers pressing into his skin, reminding him what had to be done.
Out, he thought desperately, out, please, out. Out. Out!
He may have shouted the last one.
The world was swallowed by darkness just as Sam lost the fight with the sickness. Hunching up, he felt the solid ground of the real world beneath his palms, Benny’s hand gone. He didn’t manage to feel the relief that they were out and that it had worked. He threw everything from the inside of his body, his stomach knotting, hurting from the strain, making him more sick, forcing him to heave, choke on his own saliva. Sam’s heart bled as his hands trembled uncontrollably. He hurt inside and outside. His fingernails scraped against the cold, brick floor beneath them… brick…
Sam snapped his eyes open.
The air was damp and smelled of blood and something rotten. They had been in their motel when they’d left, with carpets everywhere. In no way was it possible to feel a brick at any place in that room, nor blood or-
He cowered instinctively when a blinding flash of light illuminated the room, bringing heat over his skin. It was like a small explosion and was followed by a slap of ferocious energy wave. Lights somewhere above quivered and a glass broke and shattered down. Sam held up his hands to protect his head from the glass. It cut the skin of his palms, bringing out tiny trickles of blood. It stung but the negligible pain was nothing in comparison with the fear and panic Sam felt waking up in this strange place after witnessing a nightmare worse than anything imaginable.
He tried to stand up only to find one of his feet was shackled with an iron ring. What the hell?
“What the hell?” Benny shared aloud his sentiment. Sam looked to find the vampire a few feet away from him, his one foot too encircled by a heavy shackle.
Near him stood Castiel, in a circle of fire, preventing him to escape. The fire remained the only source of light in the place, giving the angel inside an unearthly appearance, bathing his hard, angry features with glowing colors of red and yellow. Castiel’s power had to overspill just as he’d got into the circle and it had made the fire stretch, tested by the sheer brutal force. That explained the small explosion that had broken the lights. Sam supposed it would have killed them, if it wasn’t for the ring of fire around Cas. He would have considered themselves lucky, but the fact that Cas was imprisoned, and Benny and Sam were fettered, seemed more urgent at the moment, and needed to be dealt with. Maybe Dean hadn’t been trapped, maybe he could… Wait a minute.
Dean!
Sam looked around frantically. Dean had to be here, with Sam. He had to find him. He had to assure Dean was safely back, not in that living room, not with the-
“Dean!” he shrieked, didn’t care how hysterically he sounded.
Someone laughed in an affected, irritating voice, making Sam’s blood boil. He knew who he’d find sitting there across the room even before he turned his head. The witch that had caused all this was on the ground with Dean’s head on her lap, absently stroking his hair. Dean’s body was lying unmoving and pliant. Thankfully free of restraints. But that didn’t matter, because Dean was unconscious and going nowhere, blood running down from the corner of his mouth.
- Sam -
Dean stood in a modern, spacious kitchen, his lower back resting against a counter. Taylor was handing Sam’s underage brother a beer. “Here you go.” Their fingers brushed.
“Sam, please let’s leave,” Cas repeated firmly, once he regained sense of their surroundings. Sam bit the inside of his cheek. His eyes flickered toward the scene, where Dean accepted the beer with a sad smile, taking a gulp. “Thanks.”
“What’s up with the long face?” Taylor braced his arm against the counter right next to Dean, way too close.
Dean sighed. “Sammy doesn’t want to move. He begged me to talk to dad ‘cause apparently, he listens to me more… which is total bull-nonsense, of course.”
“Come on, man.” Benny stepped forward. Sam regarded the vampire, his eyes sliding over to Castiel again. The angel showed him his back now. Cas’ attention had turned to Dean, of course. It was like he couldn’t help himself, to be in the same room as Dean and not watch him for the majority of the time he was in it. He observed Dean’s and Taylor’s interaction with narrowed eyes. Cas had said he was having a bad feeling about the course of the memories as well, and wanted to leave. Sam’s one half insisted that they’d come too far to backpedal. He had learned more about Dean than in all the years spent by his side. The other half though saw Cas, had heard the worry in his voice, and was afraid of the knowledge the memories were offering.
“Ah, this is your last night. No need to watch your tongue,” Taylor said.
Dean’s eyes sparkled. “Fucking really?”
Taylor turned to face him wholly, setting his bear aside onto the counter. “You got beer, you can swear.” He drank from his own and… stared. He stared at Dean like he was the last meal in the world.
Sam could hear his own shallow breaths. Dean looked so young. Even in the environment they’d grown in, he still had the air of innocence about him. He already acted like the self-assured and cocky teenager Sam well remembered, but the unsure glances and quick sweeps of tongue over his lips Dean didn’t quite manage to cover.
Sam decided. In the end, it was far too easy to decide. He didn’t want to witness the innocence being taken away, and that’s exactly what was happening with each new memory. They should leave. Cas and Benny were right. They should have left a long time ago.
“Yea-“ His voice stuck in his throat. He had to clear it. The scene evolving in front of him monopolized all of his attention. “Yeah, we should-“
Dean rubbed his cheek nervously with his free hand, conscious of Taylor watching him. “What. Do I have something on my face?”
“Freckles, actually,” Taylor responded, like it was the most natural thing to say.
Sam tried again. “We should…” But he trailed off. He was supposed to at least say the words, he knew that, or think the order to get him, Cas and Benny out. But his brain came to halt.
Dean snorted but the sound died quickly when Taylor took his chin in a hand, gently at first, turning rough very fast. He raised Dean’s head and crowded in, leaning down as if to-
Dean yanked out of his hold abruptly, the beer dropping down, splashing their feet. His lower back hit the counter with a loud bang that made Sam shrink involuntarily. Dean glanced behind himself quickly in panic. When he realized it was the counter caging him, he glared back at Taylor sharply, only a slight quiver in his voice giving away the initial shock. “What the fuck was that?”
Taylor cocked his head like the answer was obvious, and Dean was being deliberately stupid not to realize it. “What I’ve wanted to do every damn second since you first entered my house.” He grabbed Dean by his jaw again, digging hard in his cheeks. Dean looked at the man, wide-eyed, shell-shocked. He did nothing to free himself this time, was frozen in place, just like everyone beside Taylor was.
“Do you have any idea how hard it was to listen to you whining about your daddy and little brother?” Taylor pushed Dean against the counter, aligning their bodies. He whispered in Dean’s ear in a mocking voice. “Dad doesn’t answer when I call... Dad doesn’t care about me... Dad doesn’t need me...” Dean’s fingers gripped hard the edge of the counter. His knuckles turned white. He was staring right at Sam. It wasn’t possible, this was a memory, but Sam swore those terrified eyes were fixed on his. “Dad likes Sammy the best,” Taylor breathed, and Dean shuddered. Sam felt a shudder of his own run through him in a reaction. “Blah, blah, blah... All I wanted to do was bend you over the hood of my car, and instead, I had to act like your nice buddy… But you know what? Patience. Pays. Off.”
Taylor brought his face back to look Dean in the eye, sharing his breath. The space between them was almost nonexistent and still, Dean hadn’t moved. “That’s the best ‘bout boys like you. The problems… the family issues… They make you weak, vulnerable, and so,” their breathings picked up, Dean’s from fear, Taylor’s from arousal, “sweet.”
“Ch-christo,” Dean stuttered.
Taylor frowned in confusion. “You’re weird…” He smirked then. “Fortunately, I like that. It keeps things… interesting.” He pressed his lips against Dean’s forcefully opened mouth, digging fingers into his cheeks to keep it open, and Dean finally, finally, snapped out of the trance. He clutched at the hand holding him, applying pressure at the nerves dad had taught them about. Taylor released him with a hiss of pain. Right that second, Dean hooked his foot behind Taylor’s knee and shot out a hand to shove the son of a bitch backwards. It would have worked. Except Taylor was a marine, prepared to fight even if his body seemed loose and relaxed. He grabbed Dean’s hand in mid-air and spun him around, squeezing Dean’s other hand together with the captured one. Dean groaned in pain as the counter dug into his stomach, his feet scraping the floor to regain lost balance.
Taylor blanketed Dean’s whole body with his own, putting all his weight into it, forcing the air out of him. He laughed. “You realize you’re no match for me, don’t you, Deano?”
Dean writhed futilely, s stream of hissed curses running from his mouth. Taylor groaned at the created friction. “How about we take it somewhere else, hm?” He looked at the kitchen’s windows, making it easy for a curious neighbor to see what was going on inside. “I’ve always wanted to try it in front of the fireplace, what d’you say?”
“… Sam.”
“We have plenty of time tonight,” Taylor breathed. “The things I’m gonna do to you. Bet you’ve never got a taste of a proper man.”
Dean struggled stubbornly against the weight pinning him to the counter, only succeeding in making Taylor laugh in reaction to the created friction. “You little slut, you can’t wait, can you?”
“Sam.”
Sam blinked. He’d zoned out, shut down. He’d tried to comprehend the situation. The swarm of emotions it evoked. They got him stuck, literally.
It had been Castiel who’d said his name, God knows how many times. Sam should turn around to see what was wrong with the angel. Instead, he stared with eerie emptiness as Taylor yanked Dean by his hair, forcing him to stand up on wobbly legs. He shoved him toward the living room.
Dean fought, of course he fought. Sam’s brother was a fighter. He was like a wild animal desperate to do anything to escape a predator, and it showed. There was kicking and shouting, punching the thin air. One moment, Dean elbowed the man, knocking the breath out of him. Nothing helped him get away. Taylor was stronger, faster. He caught Dean, enclosing his arms around Dean’s body, pressing him back against his chest, dragging him out of the room. He clasped a hand over his mouth to muffle the shouts.
Sam could do absolutely nothing, but watch and dig his fingernails into the palms. He felt useless. He was useless.
There was a door Taylor had to open to get to what was presumably a living room; a door, which once was closed again, left them in a ridiculously empty room, accompanied by subdued sounds and curses. Sam looked at the door. He should be accusing it of separating him from his brother.
He was thanking whatever god would listen the door was there.
It was one thing to know what had to be happening behind. It was another to see. It would break Sam, there was no doubt. And Sam would let it break him. It would be his punishment. He’d deserve it for not knowing all the time, for not being there, here, for abandoning Dean. For coming here against Dean’s wish. Dean hadn’t wanted to let him in, and this was the reason why. It had to be, nothing worse Sam could imagine happening to his brother.
The muffled swearing, the creaking of the wooden floor and crashing of what certainly must have been expensive glass decorations; the noises of moving, fighting, the grunting-Sam took it all in, his brain greedily storing the sounds for the nightmares that’d come later.
Dean’s shouts of No! and Get off me! and My dad’s gonna fucking kill you! rose above those other noises, cutting deep in Sam. He was unable to force his body into action. He’d known, felt, Taylor was wrong somehow, but nothing could have prepared him for… for this. He craved to go over there, throw the door open and fucking kill the son of a bitch. The primal instinct urged him to protect Dean, save him then cuddle him and not let him go.
A shadowed form loomed in the corner of his eye. Sam gasped as he saw Cas going to the door with an evident intention to step through. The angel’s eyes had a manic glaze about them, and his body moved slowly and stiffly, like he was being hypnotized. Sam reached out with his shaking hand. He wanted to scream for Cas to get back, not to go through. Nothing came out. He lost the words.
“Castiel!” someone shouted instead of him. Benny. And while Cas seemed not to hear anything-the last part of trench coat disappearing through the door-Sam’s heart paced up to the point of being painful. He should do something but his legs wouldn’t move. His mouth wouldn’t open.
Benny cursed and shouted after Cas again. It was so strange to hear the vampire use Cas’ name, like Benny forgot all his rules he stubbornly stuck to.
Sam managed to tear his eyes off of the door, searching for the vampire. His moves were heavy, uncoordinated. The room was spinning around him like in a dream. He felt sick. The moment his gaze fell on where Benny had been, the vampire was gone. He moved supernaturally fast through the door, vanishing after Cas. Sam gaped at the empty spot that remained after him. He was left alone with the muffled sounds of fighting ringing in his ears. Benny’s raised-yelled-voice added to the noise, urging Cas to get the hell back, to not look.
Sam clutched at his stomach. What had they done… oh God, what had he done? He should have never come here. It wouldn’t go away now. It would stay, and Sam would forever remember.
Benny reappeared. He pushed Cas with his hand, moving him backwards back into the kitchen. The angel seemed not to notice. His eyes were trained on the door, wild.
“You get us out of here,” Benny hissed.
Sam blinked at him, his voice shaky, unrecognizable to his own ears and barely audible. “W-what?”
“Get us out. Now!”
“But…” we don’t know if it’ll work… I can’t think… I can’t force the words out…
“NOW!”
Sam’s vision blurred, the room sped up on spinning like it was trying to win a race. His stomach rolled sickeningly. “Dean needs me.”
Benny let Castiel go and shoved Sam in the chest. He used his inhuman strength, and Sam stumbled backwards. It was a miracle he hadn’t toppled over. “He doesn’t need you here.” Benny shoved him again. “He doesn’t want you here.” Another shove. “He-“
The vampire stopped abruptly, hand inches away from Sam. “Oh hell no.”
Sam watched Benny with confusion. Then he felt it. The air was vibrating around them, became warmer with energy of two objects rubbing against each other, like a static electricity, the tension almost touchable. “What’s happening?”
“Sam…”
Sam followed Cas’ voice. The heavy power was rolling off of the angel, who stood unmoving and stared at the door. He was the epicenter, there was no doubt. Sam neared his friend carefully. The closer to him, the more charged the air became. It was hard to breathe where the angel stood. Sam turned his back to the door and the sounds coming from the living room. He’d hoped it would help him ignore them, but some higher force decided the torment wasn’t over yet.
“Cas?”
The angel’s face was impossibly rigid, no twitch disrupting the stony impression, except the ever-expressive eyes. And even they showed only a fraction of the distress he had to be feeling inside. Sam could tell because he felt the same. It was too much for the angel to process, and Cas projected his inner emotions the only way he was able to; through his power. He stared at the door without a single movement. Sam put a hand on his shoulder, coaxing Cas into looking at him instead, but hissed in pain when the electric energy flowing from the angel burned his skin where he’d touched Cas. He released him abruptly and took a step back.
At least he’d succeeded in making Cas focus elsewhere than the damn door when the angel turned his head to him, though Sam wasn’t sure the angel really saw him. “It hurts,” Cas said in a strangled voice, the blue of his irises painfully clear.
What hurt?
“Inside… so much…” Cas yanked at the front of his shirt like he wanted to rip it off. Benny was there, trying to calm him down in vain. Cas didn’t notice his presence. He convulsed in pain. “I can’t explain... I-I don’t know what to do.”
Energy crackled through the room. It felt like hundreds of needles were stabbing in Sam’s skin. The heat from the tension became nearly unbearable. A bead of sweat broke on his brow, trickling down. Sam now truly started panicking. It loosened his tongue. “Cas, dammit. Stop it, you hear me? You need to calm down!”
Cas screwed his eyes tightly shut. When he opened them, it was to look at the door with such fury Sam’s legs made an involuntary retreat another step backward. He saw Benny do the same. It had to be the first time the vampire was really afraid of Cas.
“I want to kill him, Sam,” the angel said belligerently. Sam’s hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Only once before had he been truly scared of Castiel in every sense of the word, and that was when the Leviathans took over Cas’ body and the angel had proclaimed himself God. This, now, was the second time. “I’ve never experienced this strong… wrath,” Castiel hissed. “In my thousands years of service, I’ve never-I want to kill a human, Sam, I want to pull his heart out and crush it. I want to bury my hands in his insides and rip them out.”
Sam raised his hands in a nonthreatening manner. He glanced helplessly at Benny, no answer there, then back. “Cas-Cas, listen to me. You need to calm down. You’re not stable like this.”
Dean’s voice rose above theirs again, this time scared, no longer threatening or cursing, instead begging to stop, no and please… please, no…
It started loud. It died away quickly.
Cas groaned in pain and fell to his knees, fury giving way to desperation and pain. It was like watching a schizophrenic, one part ready to tear to shreds, the other pathetically afraid, like a child. “Sam, help me, Sam,” he pleaded, “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never-It hurts so much.”
“Get us out of here!” Benny yelled over Cas’ voice.
The room shook. The memory room shook and it shouldn’t have been possible. A buzz-like sound echoed around the walls. It grew with intensity, getting louder and louder. It started to hurt physically. Sam couldn’t breathe, his dry mouth choking on the heat. He covered his ears in a vain attempt to protect himself from the painful buzz, from the echoes of Dean’s cries. His body hurt from strain and heat, needles stinging everywhere. He crouched down. It was all he could do. Cas was right. It was too painful.
“He’s gonna hurt Dean like this!”
Sam looked up at Benny in horror. It was like a slap to wake him up. Cas’ gonna hurt Dean.
A panic gripped his insides. He had to get them out of Dean’s head. Now. The room shook again while Cas’ power continued leashing out. Not a damn piece of furniture moved from its place, but the memory itself started cracking. Castiel’s power was thrusting violently out-however he managed to do that-and it could hurt Dean.
Benny whirled at Sam, and tugged him harshly up to feet, his eyes dark. “Do something, dammit!” he growled, fingers digging into Sam’s shoulders. Bruises would form there. Sam accepted the ache. He felt nauseous-it was a wonder he hadn’t thrown up yet-and this type of purposeful pain helped him focus a little better.
Castiel’s energy kept growing, vibrating around them, getting more and more over the top, threatening to spill out. Sam clenched his hands around his stomach to keep himself in check, concentrating on Benny’s fingers pressing into his skin, reminding him what had to be done.
Out, he thought desperately, out, please, out. Out. Out!
He may have shouted the last one.
The world was swallowed by darkness just as Sam lost the fight with the sickness. Hunching up, he felt the solid ground of the real world beneath his palms, Benny’s hand gone. He didn’t manage to feel the relief that they were out and that it had worked. He threw everything from the inside of his body, his stomach knotting, hurting from the strain, making him more sick, forcing him to heave, choke on his own saliva. Sam’s heart bled as his hands trembled uncontrollably. He hurt inside and outside. His fingernails scraped against the cold, brick floor beneath them… brick…
Sam snapped his eyes open.
The air was damp and smelled of blood and something rotten. They had been in their motel when they’d left, with carpets everywhere. In no way was it possible to feel a brick at any place in that room, nor blood or-
He cowered instinctively when a blinding flash of light illuminated the room, bringing heat over his skin. It was like a small explosion and was followed by a slap of ferocious energy wave. Lights somewhere above quivered and a glass broke and shattered down. Sam held up his hands to protect his head from the glass. It cut the skin of his palms, bringing out tiny trickles of blood. It stung but the negligible pain was nothing in comparison with the fear and panic Sam felt waking up in this strange place after witnessing a nightmare worse than anything imaginable.
He tried to stand up only to find one of his feet was shackled with an iron ring. What the hell?
“What the hell?” Benny shared aloud his sentiment. Sam looked to find the vampire a few feet away from him, his one foot too encircled by a heavy shackle.
Near him stood Castiel, in a circle of fire, preventing him to escape. The fire remained the only source of light in the place, giving the angel inside an unearthly appearance, bathing his hard, angry features with glowing colors of red and yellow. Castiel’s power had to overspill just as he’d got into the circle and it had made the fire stretch, tested by the sheer brutal force. That explained the small explosion that had broken the lights. Sam supposed it would have killed them, if it wasn’t for the ring of fire around Cas. He would have considered themselves lucky, but the fact that Cas was imprisoned, and Benny and Sam were fettered, seemed more urgent at the moment, and needed to be dealt with. Maybe Dean hadn’t been trapped, maybe he could… Wait a minute.
Dean!
Sam looked around frantically. Dean had to be here, with Sam. He had to find him. He had to assure Dean was safely back, not in that living room, not with the-
“Dean!” he shrieked, didn’t care how hysterically he sounded.
Someone laughed in an affected, irritating voice, making Sam’s blood boil. He knew who he’d find sitting there across the room even before he turned his head. The witch that had caused all this was on the ground with Dean’s head on her lap, absently stroking his hair. Dean’s body was lying unmoving and pliant. Thankfully free of restraints. But that didn’t matter, because Dean was unconscious and going nowhere, blood running down from the corner of his mouth.