Forged by Fire 6/?
Title: Forged by Fire
Author: mlebayre
Genre: General
Characters/Pairings: No Pairings, Dean and Sam, some other folks.
Rating: R
Spoilers: This is an AU. I've taken canon and events from all seasons, but they are more references than spoilers.
Notes: In this verse Sam never dies, so Dean never makes his deal.
Summary: Apparent mistaken identity lands Sam in prison, leaving Dean on the outside struggling to free his brother. Prison isn't a good place for a hunter especially when not all the inmates are human. Locked in a cage, Sam clings to the edge of sanity and discovers Abaddon has a fan. Next in the Two Souls Verse.
Series: Two Souls Verse
Disclaimer: Not ours,just borrowing from Kripke.
Many thanks to sendintheklowns who was my winning bidder at Kazcon 2009. She asked for another fic in the Two Souls Verse and Sam in prison. What a great idea! Thank you to my wonderful betas, Anickamarie and deej1957. Amazing art by thruterryseyes and the incredible vid is by kumaproogey thank you so much to both of you! Thank you silverruffian for all her help with research.
Sam was returned to the pen not knowing how long it would be until he was removed and put in solitary, or if it would actually happen.
I said it would, you know it will, Sammy.
He was sitting along the wall, the same spot he’d occupied before in the pen. Gaze flitting around the section immediately in front of him, Sam sought the source of the voice-Dean’s voice.
No one was looking at him, now they all carefully avoided him. No one was talking to him either.
“Dean?” he whispered. There was no answer.
Gaze sweeping the room, Sam caught a glimpse of two inmates and a guard near the pen entrance. He recognized the inmates as belonging to one of the bigger gangs. Although he hadn’t learned any of the gang names, their tattoos were plain enough. This particular one had a fang tooth dripping blood on each member’s forearm. When all three looked at him, one of the inmates grinned, revealing two extra sets of fangs. Smiling at Sam, pointing at him and running one finger over his throat, the teeth slipped back into the man’s gums.
Straightening his spine, Sam stared, swallowing hard. He wanted desperately to look away, get up, find something to take the man’s head off with and get out of this prison. Instead he sat and stared wide-eyed at the man. When he and the other prisoner with him walked away, they were talking to one another, and Sam got a clear look into their mouths. No extra fangs.
They retract, can’t always tell by just looking.
“I know that, Dean,” Sam hissed attracting the attention of a few of the men close to where he sat. Dropping his gaze to the floor, he slid a few more feet down the wall, pulled his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around his shins, fingers curling tightly in the material of his pants. He looked around warily, searching out his brother’s face in the sea of angry faces he was trapped among.
They can’t see me. I’m in here with you. Two fingers brushed lightly over Sam’s head making him flinch and look up. No one was there, but something had touched him, he was sure. Sammy, it’s okay, just me. It was definitely Dean’s voice, but he couldn’t see his brother anywhere. Sometimes all you can do is survive, Sammy.
Wasn’t that the truth?
“Get up, now,” a husky voice growled. His foot was kicked hard enough to make his leg jerk to the side.
Sam looked up at the man, one of the guards, who smiled, extra teeth dropping down for a few seconds before they slipped back up and he pressed his lips together. Sam stood on shaky legs. “Where?”
The guard took his arm, turned and pulled Sam after him. “First stop, the office on this level, then you’re going to solitary. Not a second too soon either, get your freak ass out of my area.”
Sam stumbled, but caught himself. Do what he says, Sammy, no hotdog stuff.
Keeping pace with the guard, Sam was led from the pen to the guard station. The barred, heavy steel door was unlocked and Sam was guided through. Two other beefy guards waited, and as had been done when Dean and Forge came to see him, he was placed in ankle and wrist chains. Not wanting to make eye contact with any of the guards he glanced around. There were computers, an array of monitors showing various camera angles: of the halls, the pen, showers, everywhere. There were a few desks and the normal office coffee pot.
He watched men-inmates and guards-mill around the area near the mess hall. When one guard turned, Sam pulled in a sharp breath. He seemed to look at Sam, eyes glinting bright in the screen. Sam stared at the monitor and for a few seconds the guard stared back. He tried reminding himself the guard couldn’t see him, but the man’s silvery gaze followed along with Sam when he was told to move away from the monitors.
“Shapeshifter,” Sam said softly.
“Shut up,” the guard next to him hissed and finished locking the shackles and cuffs.
Sam clamped his mouth shut and looked around the guard station as much as he could without turning his head. They all looked normal, nothing supernatural, but Dean was right, these were things that could blend in easily.
When they bring you meals, keep your salt.
Apparently Dean thought he was an idiot, but Sam kept quiet. Dean meant well and just because he wasn’t really in here with Sam didn’t mean he wasn’t just as frightened as Sam. If Dean were in here and Sam on the outside he was sure he’d be more terrified than he was now being in prison.
He was taken down a long corridor behind the guard station to a series of small cells. Three guards and Sam crammed into a cell in the middle of the corridor while one of them removed his chains. A minute later Sam was alone in a seven by seven room with a toilet, cot and sink. Lying down on the cot, Sam stared at the ceiling, mind drifting as he tried working out if what he’d seen was real or his imagination working overtime.
When his meal arrived it was slid through a slot in the door. There was no salt on the tray, nor on the one that came later. He scoured the small room; there was nothing in it he could use as a weapon. The pipes to the sink and toilet were pvc, not copper or iron. The cot frame aluminum.
The third tray of food was brought in, but not put through the slot. The guard clanged on the door, as the others had, for him to come take the tray. When Sam went to the door he stared back at Weasel.
“Think you’re safe in here, Sam. Safe from me, from us all?”
Sam opened his mouth to answer, but sucked in a hard breath instead, backing up a step when Weasel’s eyes melted from blue to solid black. “What I saw out there?”
Weasel shrugged. “What, you expected prisons to be free of these things?” He laughed. “Hell, they flock here.”
Backing away until his legs hit the cot, Sam dropped onto it, shaking. When he looked up, Weasel was gone. Black smoke filtered under the door. Sam pulled his legs up, hooking his feet on the bed frame, watching intently. It was a demon and he had no way of protecting himself. Sitting perfectly still, Sam moved only his eyes, watching the thing slither and slip around the room. It didn’t come near him, he had no idea why. He wasn’t afraid of being possessed, he and Dean had gotten tattoos to ensure that, but the demon wouldn’t know that until it tried getting to him. That didn’t mean it couldn’t do plenty of damage in other ways.
He blinked and it was gone. It didn’t leave, it was simply gone. Leaning back against the wall, he ran one hand through his hair. He needed Dean, needed his brother so badly right now it hurt.
More food came, more time passed, but Sam had no idea how long. Each time there was a demon flitting through the cell, but never coming near him. Sometimes Dean would stand between Sam and the evil ribbon of black smoke, constantly reminding Sam he was there.
It was when two other inmates appeared outside his door and then somehow came through without opening it that Sam swung into action. Vampires, they showed him their fangs right away. One came at him, teeth aimed for his neck. Gritting his teeth, Sam shouted wordlessly and charged the guy. Grabbing him by the collar, Sam ran him backwards into the wall, pulled back and slammed a fist into his face.
“You’re not changing me!” Sam shouted and punched the man again. Pain rocketed up from his knuckles to his shoulder. He grabbed his hand, doubling over and turning away at the same time.
The skin of his fist was split and bloody. Hissing in a breath, he straightened and faced his attackers.
Sam was alone in the cell.
Twisting around to look behind him, no one was there. Blood, his blood dotted the wall where he’d held the man-vampire-and hit him. Except he’d clearly hit the wall.
The cell door swung open and Sam turned to it, watching as guards rushed in. He tried to fight them off, but there were too many. Screaming his rage, swinging he took as many down as he could before a needle was plunged into his shoulder and he collapsed onto the cot, left alone, shivering and staring at the ceiling.
Dean looked up when Forge’s cell phone rang. He snatched it off the dresser, tossing it to the vampire.
Forge caught it and flipped it open. “Forge.” He looked up, gaze meeting Dean’s and frowned. “He what? You had what done?” All of a sudden Forge was in motion. Crossing the room to the closet he grabbed the priest clothing and tossed them on the bed. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be there.” He snapped the phone shut. “They drugged Sam.”
“Drugged him? With what? Why? Can they do that?”
“Yes, they can. It was sedatives. Apparently he went nuts in his cell and wailed on the wall, screaming about vampires and demons.”
“Do you know the things Sam has seen in his life? What sorts of things he can dredge up out of his head?!” Dean made quick work of changing. “This is bad, isn’t it? It’s starting, or getting worse. Maybe I can…” He had no idea what. Sure, he could calm Sam down, but that was a band aid fix. Once he was gone and Sam was alone again Dean worried everything would simply start back up. “I’ll be right back.”
“Dean where are you-?”
Forge’s voice stopped when Dean ran out of the door. He made a beeline for the Impala, digging through the trunk until he found one of the duffels of clothes he kept in there.
“What are you doing?” Forge sounded confused and a little annoyed. “Now you care about fashion?”
Dean turned and faced him, a belt hanging off one hand. “They’ll let me wear this in, right?”
“What?”
“Will they?” Dean shouted.
Forge nodded. Dean pulled his belt off and replaced it with the one he held. Pointing to the buckle, he tried to explain, “See this buckle? It’s silver plated.”
“So?”
“So, I can leave it with Sam. Trust me, it’ll help. It will.”
Forge raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He simply returned to Dean’s room, collected his badge and keys and rejoined Dean in the parking lot. The look he gave Dean made him wonder if Forge believed him and exactly who he was trying to convince, himself or Forge.
They’d driven half the way in silence before Dean finally spoke. “I’ll talk to him; get his head back on straight.”
“No,” Forge shook his head and spoke quietly. “No, you won’t…get his head back on straight that is. Dean, you need to understand, that won’t happen until he’s out. I’m sorry, but it may never happen.”
“He’s survived a lot, we both have. We’ll get through this. He’ll come back to me, be fine in time.” It was all Dean had to hang onto. He glanced sideways at Forge whose mouth was pressed to a tight line. Obviously he wasn’t as confident as Dean, but then he didn’t know Sam like Dean did. No one did. At least Forge had the decency to keep any more of his opinions to himself.
Sam hadn’t been lost in a house fire as a baby, or an apartment fire, or the fire in the basement where he’d been held captive. He’d survived attacks and mauling and all sorts of creatures. He’d survive this too. Dean would fix him, no matter how long it took.
Michaels was waiting for them at the prison entrance. The second he laid eyes on Forge the shouting began. “You get that psycho out of here!”
Throwing both hands to the side, Forge got right in Michaels’s face, snarling out, “I’ll take him this second.”
“Yeah, well, Mr-Smartass-Cop as much as I’d love to do that, you know damn well I’d go to prison myself without the paperwork. So where the hell is it?”
Dean slid between the two, honestly afraid Forge was going to pick the guy up and throw him over his security fencing. “We’re working on it. Let me talk to him, please. He’s talked to me this far, he believes me.”
Michaels spun on his heels and this time Dean and Forge were taken not to a conference room, but a hallway behind one of the guard stations. It was a line of solitary cells, Dean saw that right away.
They stopped in front of a door midway down. Dean drew in a deep breath and stood in front of the door, back to it. “Just me. Completely confidential, cameras and recorders off. This man’s soul and conscious are breaking and I’m sure he’ll confess all his sins to me now.”
“I can’t allow that.”
Dean stepped forward, hands folded in front of him and voice kept calm. “You don’t have a choice.”
Michaels snorted and shoved Dean to the side, unlocking the door he opened it just far enough Dean could get inside. It was firmly shut and locked behind him. Sam sat on the cot opposite him, watching him like a hawk despite the drugs he’d been given. Dean turned, holding one hand out behind him, signaling Sam to be silent while he watched the light blinking on the security camera. A second later it went out.
“Dean?”
Crossing to the cot, Dean sat on it and pulled the belt off, removing the buckle, he stuffed the rest of the belt into his hip pocket. “Sammy, listen to me, we only have a few minutes.”
“You were in here with me before, but you left me.” Sam’s voice was soft and wet.
Sighing, Dean reached up and cupped the back of Sam’s neck, pulling him in so he could rest his forehead on Dean’s. “What did you see?”
“In the cameras in the guard station I saw shapeshifters, their eyes did that weird thing they do on camera. And vampires, some of the guards and some other prisoners, they showed me their teeth.” The way Sam’s voice trembled made Dean’s heart clench and want to stop. Letting his hand slide from his brother’s neck, he took Sam’s hand and pressed the belt buckle into it. “Weasel’s eyes are black, like a demon’s and he can get in here. Demons can get in here. Or maybe they’re not real.”
Sam looked down and smiled, fingers clenching around the buckle at once. “It really is you this time.”
“It is.”
“I gave you this.” Sam stared down at the belt buckle. “I got it ‘cause the car on it looks like our car.”
“And it’s silver plated, remember? I want you to hang onto this, keep it out of sight and make sure I get it back or I’ll kick your ass. It’ll keep you safe.”
“Because it’s yours.”
He reached out and patted the side of Sam’s head. “No more beating up the wall. They can’t touch you with that in your hand or pocket. Be still, keep cool, use that.” He dipped his head at the buckle in Sam’s hand.
“When can I leave?” The lost, small voice coming from his brother almost brought tears to Dean’s eyes.
“Two more days, tops, I promise.” Dean stood up. “No more acting like you’re in here killing something, for me.”
Sam nodded and watched with liquid eyes as Dean crossed to the door and knocked on it, shouting, “Ready.” He wasn’t really. Looking over his shoulder at Sam as he left the small cell it was all Dean could do to keep from rushing back, grabbing Sam and running. Giving Michaels his best hard ass glare he ground out, “He’ll be fine now. We’ll be back with that paperwork tomorrow or the next day.”
When they reached the parking lot, Forge put a hand on his shoulder. “Dean, stop, wait, talk to me.”
“He’s seeing things everywhere: guards, inmates. Demons, shifters, vamps, me.”
Forge unlocked Dean’s door and jogged to the driver side. “You know,” he started after setting in the car. “Statistically it makes sense that prisons would have some of those creatures. Most are violent, why wouldn’t one or two be caught and put inside?”
“Not just one or two. According to Sam it’s more than a few. That Weasel guy is still after him, too.”
Forge’s only response was to press the car to a higher speed.
Chapter 7