#castiel fanfiction
Confracta -
Title:Confracta
Rating:Explicit
Wordcount:total: 27, 104
Pairings: Sam, Dean, Castiel, Bobby, OC’s
Warnings:graphic depictions of violence, physical torture, psychological torture, major character death, major character reincarnation, blood, gore, throat-slitting, water torture, serious injury, cursing
Summary:When Dean denies his baby brother the redemption he begs for after learning he is Lucifer’s true vessel, Sam gives up and gets sloppy. “Hunters” take him with revenge on their minds, but when they learn he can’t die, the torture escalates.
An email shows up at Bobby’s with a video clip of Sam getting his throat cut, prompting him to call Dean. He learns that the older Winchester has no clue where his brother is and is forced to explain what happened. Together with Castiel and the help from another angel, they discover who really has Sam… and why.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
written for the 2021 SPN Eldritch Bang - MY FIRST BANG! I hope you enjoy the damage, terror, and torture. It’s my first time, be gentle. ;)
Art done by the amazing QuickReaver. You can view the beautiful pieces here - and I have to say that she is an amazing person, artist, and human being for working so well with a newbie to the Bang world. I am so lucky to have met her and her art is WONDERFUL (and totally spoiler alert for the story) THANK YOU for being amazing and incredible. I’m so glad we met!
Beta’d by jdl71 and HMCyre
“Look, Sam… It doesn’t matter. Whatever we do. I mean, it turns out that you and me, we’re the fire and the oil of the Armageddon. You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good,” Dean said. Sam froze, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“Dean it doesn’t have to be like this. We can fight it,” he pleaded.
“Yeah, you’re right. We can. But not together. We’re not stronger when we’re together, Sam. I think we’re weaker. Because whatever we have between us – love, family, whatever it is – they are always gonna use it against us. And you know that. Yeah, we’re better off apart. We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing, if we just go our own ways,” Dean said. Sam was shaking his head, standing between the two beds in his hotel room. He still gets a double, he’ll always get the double.
“Dean, don’t do this,” Sam begged.
“Bye, Sam,” Dean said, hanging up.
At that moment, Sam’s whole world stops. The very last lifeline he was hanging on to had given up on him. The crushing weight he felt in his chest forced the air out of his lungs, and he can’t breathe but the numbness that is filling him doesn’t care. He lets his arm fall from his ear, the phone tumbling out of his hand and drops to the floor. He felt cold suddenly like there was ice water flowing through his veins, and soon his entire body was chilled. He wasn’t sure if he’s inhaled yet, the crushing weight in his chest getting worse, but he’s had to right? He hasn’t passed out yet.
First the voicemail.
Now, this.
I lost my brother.
No,Sam tells himself fiercely. We’re not brothers anymore.You quit being Dean’s brother the moment you choose Ruby over him. Slowly, Sam sinks down to sit on one of the beds as his mind starts running a mile a minute.
Dean doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore, and you shouldn’t be surprised. You’re a monster and hunters kill monsters, remember? He made that clear with the voicemail. Not only did you release Lucifer, but now you’re his vessel? You’re evil, Sam, the kind of evil that never gets redeemed. When Dean does find you, he’s going to kill you and it’s nothing less than you deserve.
The voice in Sam’s head wasn’t wrong. Sam had let his brother down time and again prior to this epic fail and now there was no turning back. He was a monster and Dean would never forgive him for the wrongs he had done. How do you forgive the man who ended the world?
Sam sat there holding his head in his hands. He felt wetness on his face and wondered when he started to cry. His breath hitched slightly through the weight on his chest when a new thought came to him.
Moving robotically, Sam walked over to where his duffle was sitting on the small table in the room and dug out his Taurus. He pulled the slide back to make sure it’s loaded and saw a bullet in the chamber. He put the barrel of the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter explode from the opposite side of his head, painting the ugly carpet and wallpaper a Rorschach painting. Sam’s body crumbled in a heap on the floor, the handgun still clutched in his right hand, and blood seeped into the carpet from the left side of his head that was missing.
Sam stood in a dark void, surrounded by nothingness. He was dressed in the same clothing he was wearing that day, moments before he shot himself in the head. Hearing footsteps coming up behind him, he turned to see Lucifer walking up to him, his arms clasped behind his back casually. A sardonic smirk danced across his lips as he watched his vessel with dancing eyes.
“I told you, Samuel. I’m not going to let you die,” Lucifer said, walking up to Sam. Lucifer presses two fingers to his forehead.
With a heaving inhale, Sam woke up covered in his own blood on the ugly carpet floor of his hotel room. The left side of his face was covered in blood and brain matter, his hair matted, and skin smeared with it. His head and skull, however, were intact… as if nothing happened. A shaky hand raises and feels along the right side of his head, and just under his hairline Sam feels a small scar. A parting gift from the Devil, reminding him of his power.
A sob rose in Sam’s throat as he realized that Lucifer had brought him back to life, but he swallowed it down and pushed himself to a standing position.
He reached back into his bag and pulled out a silver hunting knife. Turning the knife in on himself, he plunged the blade into his stomach. A grunt of pain was pulled from him as he fell back; warm, sticky blood rushing past his fingers. The pain was unbearable, radiating from his abdomen and pulsing up into his chest.
“Dean…” he whimpered pathetically, hating himself for calling out to a man who no longer cared if he lived or died. After a few minutes, he started to grow cold, and his vision started to darken. It was then that he saw the figure of Lucifer walking up to him in the hotel room, his head tilted as he studied the wound.
“Silver blades don’t bother me, Sam,” he said, smiling and entertained. “But that’s a nice try.”
Sam didn’t know how long he was out for this time, but when he opened his eyes, the hunting knife rested in his left hand. It gleamed in the light of the motel, cleaned of all the blood. His shirt and jeans, however, were tacky and clinging to him in places with his blood. Sam’s head dropped back and he blinked away tears.
Maybe something that will do more significant damage to my body, he thought, pushing himself up to a standing position. He brought the knife with him into the bathroom and he set it on the sink as he dug into his bathroom kit. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled out the bottle of prescription painkillers. He stared at it for a long moment, then filled up one of the disposable glasses with water. He started to take the pills three at a time until the bottle was empty.
He didn’t know how long it would take for the drugs to start destroying his organs. When he looked at the bathtub, he grabbed the knife before climbing in it. Very carefully, he placed the tip of the knife against the delicate skin of his wrist and followed the scar left behind from the ghouls so many years ago. A pained grunt escaped him as he watched dark red blood start to pulse out of the wound. He quickly switched hands and did the other wrist as sickness started to swirl in his stomach. He noticed his breathing was getting labored as well.
Sam scrunched his body down in the tub so he could let his head fall back against the cool porcelain, suddenly feeling very hot. His eyes drifted away from the blood pumping out of his wrists and lazily looked out of the bathroom door and into the bedroom where his vision was starting to get blurry. There, he swore he saw a figure sitting on the bed. He was bent over, elbows resting on his knees, staring at him with disappointment.
“If you think I can’t purify your blood of that Vicodin, Sammy, you really have underestimated me,” Lucifer said with a frown. Slowly, Sam’s eyes slid shut on the blurred image of the Devil watching him die in a motel bathtub.
Yet again, Sam opened his eyes sometime later. Still covered in his own blood and all that remained of his attempt this time was the scars on his wrists. As Sam went to pull himself out of the tub, he spotted a small orange bottle on the counter near the sink. He pulled his shirt off and let it splat on the porcelain before making his way over to see what it was.
He was both furious and frustrated when he picked up a full bottle of Vicodin with his bloodstained hand.
After that, Sam tried a variety of other ways to kill himself with no success: electrocution, drowning, setting himself on fire behind the motel, hanging himself from the ceiling. Each time, Lucifer greeted him just before he died and called him out on his attempt. Each time Sam opened his eyes, he was put back together completely, but left with scars.
He must have killed himself a dozen times since his last phone call with his brother… no, not your brother. You don’t have a family. You don’t get to have family. Sam lay on the filthy carpet in the room and stared at the ceiling.
“You’re really not gonna let me die, are you?” he asked pathetically. Somewhere in the distance, he heard his cell phone ringing, but couldn’t be bothered to pick it up. At that point, he couldn’t be bothered to do much of anything.
“That’s pretty nice timing, Cas,” Dean said with a relieved smile.
“We had an appointment,” Castiel replied. Dean smirked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t ever change,” he replied.
“How did Zachariah find you?” Castiel asked. Dean sighed as he reached into his pocket for his phone.
“Long story. Let’s just stay away from Jehovah’s Witnesses for now on, okay?” he says opening his phone and dialing Sam’s number.
“What are you doing?” Castiel questioned.
“Something I should have done in the first place,” Dean said, listening to the other line ringing. When it went to voicemail, Dean got a confused look on his face. He pulled the phone away from his ear and redialed the number. Again, voicemail.
“What is it?” Castiel asked as Dean pulled the phone away and shoved it back in his pocket.
“Sam’s not answering,” he said, concern touching his voice but not enough for Castiel’s liking. “He’s probably pissed at me and ignoring my calls.”
“What did you do?” Castiel asked. Dean side-eyed him this time. The two turned and started walking.
“What’s with the twenty questions, Cas?” Dean questioned. “I… said some things I shouldn’t have. Said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. Things we need to hash out together so we can get back on the same page.”
“It would be nice to see you actually caring about your brother again, Dean,” Castiel said, an air of arrogance in his tone. Dean chose to ignore that comment on the grounds that he didn’t want to look too closely at what that meant.
“Whatever.”
Sam sat at the rickety table in his hotel room tapping on his laptop, searching for ways to stay dead permanently. Through websites and chat rooms, he was able to eliminate some of the suggested ways to die. Frustrated, he slapped the lid shut and leaned back against the chair.
Why is it so hard to figure out how to die and stay dead? He thought, looking out the window of his room. Maybe looking online wasn’t the right way to do this. Frowning, he opened the laptop again and searched for the closest library. Finding the address, he wrote it down on a piece of paper, tore it off the notepad and stuffed it into his pocket as he stood to leave the room.
Opening the door to step out of the room, a burst of stars exploded in front of his eyes and he stumbled back into his room. Sam felt hands on his arms, and he lashed out. At least two of his hits landed, but he still ended up on his back with a knee on his throat. Moments later, he felt the cold metal of a gun pressed to his temple, causing him to freeze. By the time his vision cleared, he saw four faces staring down at him.
“Hey there, demon boy,” one of the faces said. Sam eyed them warily.
“I’m not going to fight you,” he said quietly. One of the men snickered.
“You mean any more than you already did?” a different one said.
“That’s a shame, really. Because we really want to fight you,” the third one said. Sam looked at him with a frown.
“I don’t have much money,” Sam said, pointing at the table. “You can take what I do have. The laptop too. My gun is under the pillow on the bed.”
“Oh, Sammy, we don’t want your shit,” the skinny one said. Sam’s eyes narrowed, instantly realizing the men in front of him were hunters. Two of the men hauled him up, twisting his arms behind him. The gun at his temple moved to the front of him, aimed at his heart. “We want your head on a spike, demon boy.”
A swift hit to the back of the head and Sam slipped into unconsciousness, unaware that he was being dragged away from the security of his motel room and thrown into the trunk of a car.
When Sam woke up, he found himself tied to a rusted metal chair. There were straps holding him down: his chest; his biceps; his forearms; his head; his lap; his thighs; his shins. The restraint chair was old but effective. He tried to move but found himself unable to do anything. This made him nervous. What made him more nervous was he didn’t have a shirt or any shoes on. He tried to look around as much as he could with his head restrained but was unable to move much. That might have been a blessing in disguise given how badly his head hurt.
“Look who’s finally awake! I was starting to think that Paul hit you too hard,” a male voice said cheerily. Sam glared as best he could, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he hurt. The man walked in front of him and looked Sam in the eye with a wide, sadistic smile. “How are you enjoying your chair? I hope it’s comfortable because you ain’t leaving it for a while.”
“Where the hell are we?” Sam asked. The man laughed.
"Some place no one will ever hear you scream, demon boy,” the man said, standing in front of Sam. “Rumor has it we have you to thank for this insanity happening all over the world. You! You were the one who let good old Lucifer out of his cage. What the hell were you thinking, boy?” the man sneered. When the man said Lucifer’s name, worry started to grow in the pit of his stomach.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said shakily. The man in front of him dropped his smile and swung at him. The punch hit Sam squarely in the jaw, and he felt something crunch from the hit. Stars danced in front of his eyes for a few seconds, and when Sam opened his eyes once more, the man was smiling again.
“Now, don’t you lie to me. We know the truth about you. An old friend of yours filled us in. Told us you’ve been sucking down demon blood like a damn vampire at an all-you-can-eat buffet, that you got these magical powers that let you kill demons and see the future… oh and YOU LET THE FUCKING DEVIL OUT!” the man shouted at him. Sam flinched away; who told him? Whoever it was, they told him everything.
“Looks like you started having fun without us, Carl,” a different voice called out. The man in front of Sam stepped back to give the newcomer space. When he stepped into the light and Sam got a look at him, he blanched. Billy placed a foot on the lower part of the restraint chair and leaned his weight on it, bending down to look Sam in the face.
“What, no hello for your old friend?” Billy asked with a tilt of his head. “Devil got your tongue?”
Sam remained silent, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of a response. Billy snorted and shook his head standing up straight.
“We kill evil, Sam,” Billy said, looking down at the man strapped to the chair. “And you are one evil son of a bitch. You and that so-called brother of yours, Dean. Once we get your brother here, we’re gonna take the both of you out for ending the world.”
“Dean had nothing to do with this. I’m the one who did it, leave him out of this,” Sam growled. Billy raised a brow.
“You would defend your brother,” he scoffed. Sam shook his head.
“Dean was trying to stop me when I let Lucifer out. He didn’t even know what I was doing. He had nothing to do with this. You have me, do whatever you want to me, but leave him out of this,” Sam said defiantly. He glared at Billy, daring him to challenge him again. The two men stared at each other. Finally, Billy smirked.
“Well, we did find you all by yourself,” Billy said thoughtfully. Sam refused to look away.
“Deans not involved in any of this. I failed him, and he gave up on me,” Sam said quietly. Billy stared at Sam, trying to tell if he was lying.
“Dean wants nothing more to do with me. One of the last things he said to me was he wanted to kill me, so,” Sam muttered quietly, his voice catching at the end. Billy smirked at him. Weakness,he thought. Still a weakness for you.
“Big brother finally realized what a burden you really are,” Billy said appreciatively. The other men in the room chuckled. Sam swallowed, his eyes twitching. “You’re a waste of life, Samuel. Pathetic. You ruin everything you touch, including your brother.” Sam swallowed hard.
“So, you really are on your own. Giving up on a monster like you was the best thing Dean could have done.” The two stared at each other, Billy with malice in his gray eyes and a sinister smile on his face.
“Well, boys, you heard the man. We can do whatever we want to him,” Billy said, looking at the others. Sam swallowed deeply then, glancing at the other three men in the room. Fear settled in his belly. “Let’s see just how demonic Sam really is.”
He didn’t even see the first punch coming. The hit came from the right, a hand with brass knuckles slammed into the side of Sam’s face. The strap holding his head in place caused his chin to take the full force of the hit at once. A cry escaped his lips as he felt the blow shatter his cheekbone. Another hit came from the opposite side, this one just a fist but feeling just as harshly. The crunch he felt in his jaw from the very first hit happened again, and a sharp pain raced from his jaw up through his temple. Tears of pain leaked from his eyes.
“Baby’s crying? Why are you crying, Sammy? This is what you deserve,” Carl said, swinging a fist at him again, this one colliding with his abdomen. All the air rushed out of his lungs, and Sam started to cough. The chair kept him strapped upright, so he couldn’t bend over like his muscles wanted him to do. Another fist with those brass knuckles clocked him in the face, causing him to shout out. The skin near his eye split and he whimpered. Blood dripped from the split skin there, a bruise already starting to bloom. Another punch followed; this one from the opposite side without the brass knuckles. Both blows were enough to cause Sam to see stars in front of his eyes.
“Where’s all that magical power now, demon boy?” Billy shouted. Sam couldn’t answer, coughing with his eyes clenched closed and his breathing coming harsh through his nose.
“I asked you a question!” Billy shouted, slapping Sam across the face. A whimper escaped his lips as the sting went across his broken cheekbone. Sam refused to answer, turning narrowed hazel eyes toward Billy. Billy chuckled. “Not gonna answer? That’s fine.”
Billy swung again, an uppercut that broke his nose. The punch was hard enough to tip the chair Sam was in, sending it crashing to the floor. The metal chair jarred Sam roughly. Between the hit and the fall, Sam was gasping for breath through whimpers. Billy pulled off the brass knuckles and tossed them onto a rolling tray nearby, shaking out his hand. Billy glanced at the guys and one of them stepped forward with a baseball bat in his hand. Before Sam could recover enough, the man swung the bat and brought it down hard on Sam’s abdomen.
All the air rushed out of Sam’s lungs once again in a hoarse shout, then he broke into a sob as pain radiated through his belly and to his back. The man swung and hit Sam again, only this time in his chest. The echoing crack told of Sam’s ribs breaking. A third hit left Sam gasping for breath. The hits after that had Sam crying out sharply each time the bat made a connection with his chest. Not soon enough, Billy grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him back.
“We don’t want to kill him too quickly, Carl,” he said. Billy nodded his head behind him, as if telling the guy to stand down. Carl turned to stare at Sam for a long moment, watching as the man breathed in short, harsh pants, before finally turning away. Billy watched him throw the bat on the rusted medical table and storm out of the decaying room with a frown.
“Matt. Skip. Grab the pliers and break his fingers,” Billy said quietly.
“You got it, boss,” Matt said before Billy stepped away. One of the men grabbed two pairs of pliers. He tossed one pair to the other and the two chuckled as they clicked them a few times.
“Please,” Sam begged in a whimper, tears running from his eyes. Billy heard it and looked down at the younger brother with a raised brow before walking over and staring down at him.
“This is because of your blood drinkin’ ways, Sam. Monsters get punished before they die,” he said cruelly. Sam blinked at him, tears breaking free and running back to his hair. He would be shaking his head if he could.
“I didn’t know,” he whispered brokenly. Billy scoffed.
“Right,” he answered before turning and walking out of the room. Matt and Skip broke Sam’s pinky fingers simultaneously. He only released a whimper when they broke his ring fingers simultaneously. But by the time they got to his middle fingers, he couldn’t help but release shouts of pain, no matter how much his head told him he deserved the punishment they were dealing him.
By the time they were done breaking all his fingers, Sam was officially crying. His chest hurt, his face hurt, and now his fingers hurt. He knew he wasn’t going to survive this, so why wouldn’t they just kill him already?
“Get this asshole up,” Billy said. Matt and Skip hauled the restraint chair he was sitting in back to a seated position. The shift left Sam lightheaded for a few moments. It was just long enough for Billy to step forward, grab a fist full of his hair to pull his head back and press a knife against his throat. Sam froze instantly.
“Let’s see what kind of things work on the demon boy, shall we?” Billy said. The blade bit into the soft skin at his throat, drawing blood from a very thin cut. Sam tried to control his breathing so the blade wouldn’t cut deeper than necessary. Sam swallowed nervously.
“I’m not a demon,” Sam defended weakly. Billy smirked.
“You sure as hell drink demon blood, and that shit ain’t human,” a voice said. Sam glanced at where the men were standing, getting nervous.
“One way to find out,” Billy said, pulling the blade from Sam’s neck. Placing the tip of the blade in the soft part of the muscle of Sam’s left bicep, Billy very slowly started to push the blade into his arm. A sadistic smirk played on Billy’s lips as he watched Sam clench his teeth to keep from yelling.
“Go ahead and scream Sam. No one is coming to save you,” Billy said before shoving the knife all the way through his arm. A short, rough scream escapes Sam followed by a series of grunts as he tries to control the pain. Billy reached a hand behind him and snapped his fingers. Another silver knife was placed in his open palm. Billy set it against Sam’s right bicep and slowly started to push the blade in once again. Sam grunted his way through the pain until Billy shoved the knife through the muscle. Another scream ripped from his throat. A ragged sob escaped him.
“Dean,” he muttered quietly. Billy’s sadistic smirk turned cruel.
“Dean ain’t coming to save you now, demon boy. He gave up on you. Something he should have done a long time ago,” he said. “Dean never loved you, Sammy. You were never his family. You were a waste of space and I can’t wait to rid the planet of you.”
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, silently agreeing with everything Billy said.
“Hey, Carl! Go get the salt,” Billy called out. Laughter came from the men behind him while the smallest of the group, the man who greeted him when he first woke up, stood up and walked over to one of the rusted cabinets. Opening the door with a screech, he pulled out a cylinder container and carried it over to where Sam lay strapped to the chair. Billy looked over at Carl with a smile.
“Would you like to do the honors?” he asked. Carl glared at Sam.
“With pleasure,” Carl muttered, opening the container. “You know, my sister was killed in one of those crazy ambushes that occurred when you released the Devil from his cage. They tore her apart in front of her two kids. Mauled her. We couldn’t even have a funeral for her.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, tears in his eyes. Carl shook his head.
“Not as sorry as you’re gonna be,” he growled. Carl poured some of the salt into his hand, then shoved it into Sam’s face, burying it into the open wounds from the beating he had taken earlier. Sam hissed at the burn that came from the salt hitting the open wounds then started to shout as Carl rubbed the salt further into the wounds, using his fingernails to dig it in and tear at the cuts. Carl even went as far as to dump some of the salt into Sam’s mouth.
Soon, he flipped the salt canister closed and turned away. Sam panted as the salt burned into his cuts, the heavy breathing sucking more granules deeper into the wounds. Carl walked over to the rusty rolling tray, set down the canister, and picked up the pliers that were used to break his fingers. Sam watched as Carl walked back toward him and started shaking his head. Instead of breaking his toes, however, Carl proceeded to tear off each one of Sam’s toenails.
Blood dripped down Sam’s toes. Just as Carl pulled the last one, a crack was heard, and a hoarse scream of pain erupted from Sam. Matt had taken a baseball bat to his ankle, no doubt shattering the bones there. A sob followed Sam’s scream, having not been able to move and his bones taking the full brunt of the attack. Carl looked over his shoulder at Matt, a smirk on his face. He reached over and moved Sam’s foot attached to the shattered ankle, causing him to scream again.
“Do the other ankle,” a voice said quietly. Matt and Carl looked over at Billy, who turned to look at the man who walked into the room. Paul, an older man with a stoic expression, slowly stepped into the room staring Billy down. Billy and Paul glared at each other for a long moment, then Billy nodded his agreement. The other two men shrugged, and Carl moved to the other side. Sam shook his head, a sob escaping his throat. Matt moved in front of Sam and swung. CRACK!
Sam’s blood-curdling scream echoed through the entire hall of the abandoned hospital, the acute agony that was piercing his legs causing him to blackout in the end. Billy sat watching the men hurt him without remorse. Matt and Carl looked up when they heard the back door open, causing Billy to look over his shoulder. Before Billy could speak, Paul did.
“Is the room ready?” Paul asked. Skip nodded. “Excellent. Get him up and out of that chair. We have somewhere to be.”
Matt and Skip men dropped Sam in a heap atop the old mattress before turning and walking out, locking the door to the small hospital room behind them. Sam moaned weakly as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but it was hard when his hands were practically useless. After a while, he was able to shift himself onto his shoulder at least and used his elbow to push himself up into a seated position.
Taking stock of his injuries, he realized they wrapped his arms where the knives were. His face felt swollen and warm, and he could only open one eye. Looking down at his feet, his ankles looked horrific, and he knew he wasn’t walking anywhere any time soon. He dropped his head against the wall and let out a weak sob as he thought about his predicament.
Once he was feeling stable, Sam opened his one eye and looked around the decaying room to see where he was. They had cleaned the room out, leaving him with the old, moldy mattress they dropped him on, an itchy blanket if you could call it that, and a bucket in the corner. No food, no water. No light of any kind.
He used his elbows to push himself into a kneeling position, and he crawled his way over to the door, trying to open it. Locked, as expected, but he had to try. He shuffled himself back to the mattress and settled himself as best he could.
Alone in that room, trapped with kidnappers who wanted nothing good for him, he let himself feel the emotions overwhelming him and gave in to the tears pressing against his eyes.
Sam woke up with a jolt when the metal door to the room he was locked in was suddenly kicked open. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. He started coughing almost immediately, causing the pain to ricochet through his body. A light moan escaped him.
“Wakey, wakey, demon boy…” he heard a voice say before one of them kicked him in the chest. He curled in on himself, trying to protect his already injured ribs. Even that small movement amped the pain up through his body.
“Get him up,” he heard Carl say. “Billy wants him in the showers.”
Sam felt arms grab him and start dragging him away from the mattress, cries of pain escaping his lips involuntarily when his broken ankles dropped and hit the floor. A hand slapped the back of his head.
“Shut the fuck up, demon,” one of them said. Opening the one good eye he had, he forced his head up to look around and see who had him. Matt and Skip. Sam did his best to try and remember where they were going in the abandoned hospital, but the pain he was in made him dizzy and he lost his way three turns in.
Matt and Skip dragged Sam through the halls of the decaying building to a locker room that had an old shower in it. In the shower was a large bucket filled to the rim with water. Matt and Skip forced Sam to his knees, ignoring his cries of pain. Billy stepped up and smiled at him.
“I always wondered if demons reacted to water torture, Sammy,” he said with an air of confidence. Billy held out a rosary made from red and black crystals, the crucifix on the end silver and well-loved. He held it in front of Sam’s face for a long moment, then dropped it into the bucket. “Especially if it’s an entire drum of holy water. Want to find out?”
“The name is Sam,” Sam gasped out defiantly. Billy simply laughed.
“Still mouthy till the end. Just like your brother,” Billy replied. Sam’s heart clenched painfully at the mention of his brother. Billy bent over to get eye to eye with Sam. “You know, he never really loved you, right Sammy? How could he love a monster like you? You ruined his life.”
Sam stared at Billy for a long moment before his eyes dropped, accepting the words. He already knew them. Billy saying them didn’t make them any less true.
“Maybe we should call him, see if he wants to come by and participate in this religious testing we’re doing,” he shouted, holding his hands out. Pulling out a cell phone, he held it in front of Sam’s face. Sam recognized it as his own.
“No calls from big bro, Sammy. He’s given up on you. He should have killed you when he had the chance,” Billy said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “No worries. I’ll make sure we take care of that for him.”
Sam’s heart clenched in his chest with every word Billy said, knowing they were true. Billy smirked as he stood up straight, watching how Sam wilted at his words. He wasn’t about to tell Sam his brother actually did call him – twice in fact. It just meant they needed to get their work done and get out of there before Dean started looking for his brother.
“Dunk him,” he ordered. Matt and Skip shoved Sam’s head under the water and held it there as he thrashed, trying to get himself out of the water. Soon, Sam ended up inhaling some of the water and slowly stopped thrashing around.
“Pull him out,” Billy said, and the men yanked Sam out of the water, shoving him to the ground. They watched as he coughed and gasped, trying to get air back into his lungs. Once he was able to take a breath of air uninhibited, Billy nodded at him. The men grabbed him and yanked him back up.
“No. No, please,” Sam begged quietly.
“Again,” Billy said, and the men shoved Sam’s head back under the water. Sam thrashed again, desperately trying to find relief from the cold water that his head was shoved into, desperately trying not to inhale the water into his lungs. Sooner than he liked, his body started to respond despite what his mind was telling him, and he inhaled water again.
Yanked out of the water and cast aside once again, Sam coughed hard and expelled whatever water he could from his lungs. Billy squatted down in front of him and watched with narrowed eyes.
“If your brother killed you when he should have, none of this would be happening right now,” he muttered. Sam’s eyes filled with tears, knowing how true Billy’s words were.
“I’ll say this, he ain’t smokin,” Matt said, glancing at Billy. Skip shook his head.
“Either your holy water ain’t worth a shit, or he’s a different kind of demon,” Skip replied, leaning against the wall. Billy gave the two men a look that he hoped would silence them. Skip simply smirked and shrugged. “Just saying.”
“Pick him up again,” Billy growled. Matt and Skip chuckled as they grabbed Sam again. They manhandled Sam back up to his knees, ignoring his cries of pain. Billy grabbed a fist full of Sam’s hair and lifted his head. Sam looked up at him with fear and resignation in his eyes. Billy simply stared at him for a few long moments then shoved his head away. “Dunk him.”
The men dunked Sam’s head back under the water, and Sam reflexively fought back but his heart simply wasn’t in it anymore. After all, he had nothing to live for now that Dean had given up on him.
The two dragged an unconscious Sam by his wrists through the halls of the hospital, laughing maniacally. Kicking the door open to the room that had become his cell, they dropped him unceremoniously onto the mattress. His body made a squelching sound when it landed, which caused the guys to laugh harder.
“You guys don’t feel even a little guilty about what we’re doing here?” they heard a voice say. Matt and Skip turned to see Paul leaning against the door jam, arms crossed over his chest. The dark look in his eyes made the two men stop laughing.
“C’mon, Paul,” Skip said with a shrug of his shoulders. “He started the fucking apocalypse. He was drinking demon blood.”
“Not to mention letting Lucifer out,” Matt said. Paul eyed the two men judgmentally.
“My point was you shouldn’t be enjoying it so much. We have a job to do, and we’ll get it done. But we don’t get to act like Neanderthals while doing it,” Paul said critically, studying the two men harshly. He raised a brow. “We’re taking a big risk here doing this, coming after Sam Winchester. Maybe you should remember that while you are celebrating.” The two had the decency to look chastised.
“Sorry, boss,” Skip said.
“Yeah, sorry, boss,” Matt agreed. Paul nodded thoughtfully.
“Go check the perimeter and make sure we haven’t been compromised,” he ordered quietly. The two men nodded and slipped from the room as silently as possible. While walking away, Skip looked back at Paul standing in the doorway, watching over Sam.
“I always forget that Paul is actually the one running this thing, not Billy,” he said with a shake of his head. Matt snorted.
“Billy only wishes he was as smart as Paul. I’d follow Paul anywhere. I’d just as well shoot Billy as work with him. Billy will be the one to get us killed,” Matt said. Skip nodded his head as they walked out the side door they used as their entrance.
“You ain’t kidding.”
Paul stood in the doorway and watched the unconscious man. It was hard to believe what he had done, what his brothers and sisters were able to manipulate him into doing with the help of the demons. It infuriated him, this civil war they had going on. All parties involved with the start of the apocalypse would be punished, including the human Sam Winchester, the vessel of Lucifer. He and his little band of outlawed misfits would prove that it wasn’t necessary to start something as drastic as the end of the world.
Carl walked up to where Paul was, looking into the room where Sam lay unconscious before turning his glowing blue eyes to his leader.
“We’re going to have to do something about Qaphsiel,” he said, voice monotone and emotionless. “He’s starting to get a little out of hand.”
“What do you mean?” Paul asked, his own glowing blue eyes looking at the vessel his partner had taken over.
“He just needs to be reminded where he stands in this line-up. Seraphim like him are not allowed to be ordering anyone around, making decisions, or changing plans,” Carl growled. Paul turned his eyes back to Sam and sighed heavily.
“Are you sure it wasn’t the vessel?” Paul asked.
“No, it was Qaphsiel. No one speaks that way other than him,” Carl retorted.
“It wasn’t my idea to bring him on in the first place, Gadiel,” he said pointedly. Carl’s glowing eyes narrowed slightly in indignation. “I’ll have a word with him, remind him of his place. Will that suffice?”
“Yes, for now,” Carl said. “What is it that you want me to do?”
“Prepare the chair for him,” Paul said, a head tilt toward Sam. “It’s time to finish this.”
An electrical buzzing sound roused Sam. He jolted, instantly aware of the ache in his body. The electrical buzzing sound happened again, causing Sam to lift his head and look around, only to see Paul standing next to him with a long metal rod. That was also when he realized he was attached to a metal chair, strapped down tightly with leather straps across his chest, legs, and arms. He eyed the man warily.
“You destroyed this planet, letting Lucifer out of his box. You know that, right?” Paul said quietly. Sam watched him apprehensively. “You damned the entire world.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Sam whispered softly. “I didn’t know what…”
“Don’t give me that shit!” Paul yelled suddenly, moving forward. Sam startled slightly, and his eyes widened as he eyed the cattle prod coming toward him.
“No, no, wait,” Sam begged, then a ragged scream ripped through his throat as Paul pushed the cattle prod into his hip and turned the power on. Electricity burned through his body, fire running through his nerves as his muscles jumped and spasmed for the seconds the cattle prod was active against his skin. Paul pulled the cattle prod away, leaving Sam panting and sweating harshly.
“You are the reason we’re all gonna die,” Paul said viciously, stabbing him again with the cattle prod, lighting up Sam’s body again. Sam’s body convulsed in the chair, his voice screaming in pain as electricity ran through him. Billy and Carl walked up on the duo, watching with narrowed eyes. When Paul pulled the electrical stick back again, Sam sobbed. Blood started to seep from his ears.
“Please,” Sam sobbed. Paul glanced at Carl who approached with a bucket of water and dumped it on Sam. The cold water startled him, seeping into his jeans and the leather straps holding him in place. Wide, scared eyes looked over at the men standing nearby and watching.
“Rot in hell,” Paul growled, before stabbing Sam a third time with the cattle prod, this time longer than the previous. Electricity arced over Sam and the metal chair he was tied to, the water steaming off his body. The scream he let out was loud and harsh, his muscles so tight they looked close to snapping. Against his broken bones, the pain had to be excruciating, but no one would stop Paul from his actions.
When Paul finally pulled the cattle prod away from Sam, the men in the room watched as water and blood dripped off his body. Paul was breathing heavily, lifting a hand to wipe at the sweat under his nose. Billy stared wide-eyed at Paul, shocked at the extreme measure he had just taken. Paul shot Carl a look, and Carl quickly moved forward to press two fingers to the pulse point in Sam’s neck. He waited a few seconds before looking at Paul and shaking his head.
“Start packing up your shit. We’re out of here before dark,” Paul breathed, throwing the cattle prod onto the metal counter. The clang echoed in the room.
When Sam opened his eyes again, he was standing on the beach. The sand felt warm between his toes, the ocean air tasted salty on his tongue.
“I can make it stop, you know,” Lucifer said. Sam looked to the right of himself and saw the Devil walking up to him. He had his pants rolled up to his calves, his hands in his pockets. Lucifer was looking out the ocean waves, his expression peaceful. Content. “You could stay here, be at peace.”
“No.”
“Dean can’t save you, Sammy. He won’t. He has abandoned you. Forgotten you. I’m here. I can save you, but I can’t find you with the ruins on your ribs; I can’t stop them unless you tell me where you are. If you won’t say yes, at least tell me where you are so I can stop them from hurting you.”
“No,” Sam said, shaking his head with fear in his eyes. Lucifer shook his head in sadness, placing a hand on the younger Winchester’s shoulder.
“You don’t have to say yes, Sam. Just let me protect you,” Lucifer all but begged.
“I said no! No!” Sam said, stepping away from Lucifer. The Devil frowned as he watched Sam for a moment. He then stepped forward, clamping his hands down on Sam’s shoulders.
“Sam, when I resurrect you, you’ll be back in their clutches. It will start all over again,” Lucifer said. He shook his head. “Why can’t you believe that I care about you? I wish you’d believe me,” Lucifer said with a sigh.
“Perhaps next time, you’ll have changed your mind.”
Sam was about to respond but didn’t have a chance. He suddenly felt as if he was falling, plummeting through space. When he felt himself land, he was back in his body. He opened his eyes and gasped a lungful of air, scaring the man in the room with him.
“What the fuck!?” Carl shouted, looking at a gasping Sam. Sam’s eyes darted all over the room, trying to figure out what was going on. He realized he had been untied from the chair and shoved into the corner of the room “How the hell are you still alive?”
Sam started coughing, trying to clear his throat. Carl ran out of the room and called out to the other guys, who came running in a flash. Paul, who was in front of the group, stalked up to Sam and held a knife to his throat. Sam pressed himself against the wall as tightly as he could to get away from the blade cutting into the sensitive skin of his throat.
“How are you breathing?” Paul asked coldly.
“Lucifer,” Sam gasped. “Lucifer refuses to let me die.”
“Lucifer won’t let you die?” Paul repeated, his tone questioning Sam’s sanity. Sam started to shake his head then stopped when he felt the knife dig deeper into his skin.
“Nn…no. Said I can’t say yes if I’m dead, so..” Sam said, his eyes lifting to look into Paul’s.
“Well, then,” Billy said, a malicious grin playing on his lips. “That changes everything.”
“Gentlemen,” Paul said, his voice low and even. “This just became a whole new thing.” The rest of the men looked at each other in surprise and uncertainty.
“If you want out, now is the time,” Paul said, turning his head to look at the small group of men.
“What the fuck? No, none of us are leaving,” Billy started. Paul interrupted him.
“You don’t have a say in how this goes. This is my op, Billy. Not yours. You work for me, so shut the fuck up,” Paul sneered, the first real bit of emotion he had shown since Sam had been taken. Carl had a look of satisfaction on his face while Billy held up his hands in a surrender motion and took a step back. Sam simply watched everything in silence, a knife still pressed solidly against his throat.
“I don’t know about this,” Matt said quietly. “How much penance does one need to make for starting the apocalypse?” That made Paul’s eyes narrow minutely.
“Well, I’m staying. I can’t wait to get my hands on him again,” Billy said gleefully. That made most of the men roll their eyes.
“I’m here till you call it,” Carl said to Paul.
“I’ll stay if you stay,” Skip said to Matt. “We always work together. You want to do this? We’ll do it together.” Matt then nodded.
“So, we’re all in then,” Paul said, a sadistic smirk coming to his lips. Sam suddenly got very nervous. “Excellent. Let’s see how many ways we can kill a traitor.”
Billy stepped forward first, a fist to Sam’s face knocking him to the side. The rest of the men took a step back to watch as Billy beat Sam: punching him in the face, swiftly kicking him in the chest, stomping on his hand. Skip shoved Billy out of the way a few minutes later, finding the courage to participate. Kicking Sam’s knee, he ignored the man’s screams as he destroyed Sam’s leg. Carl walked up and kicked Sam in the face, breaking his jaw. Paul stomped on Sam’s chest, breaking his ribs, and puncturing his lung. As Sam rolled over to try and protect his chest, another kick to his head snapped his neck, killing him instantly.
“Back again, I see,” Lucifer said, watching Sam reappear at the beach. He smirked watching Sam look around confused. When Sam finally looked at the Devil, his eyes grew sad.
“They killed me again?” he asked. Lucifer nodded.
“Are you ready to tell me where you are now?” the Devil asked. Sam shook his head.
“No. Never,” he answered quickly. Lucifer shrugged.
“You must enjoy the pain, Samuel. If that’s what you want, I could give it to you instead of these… people,” Lucifer said, snapping his fingers.
Sam opened his eyes to find himself being drug down one of the dirty hallways by his wrists. He turned his head to look around, then thrashed a bit to try and get loose. Skip and Matt looked over at him.
“Look who’s back with us!” Skip exclaimed, pinning Sam’s arm behind him. Sam cried out as he tried to get free but instead found himself hauled up to a standing position. “C’mon, demon boy. Time for you to walk for yourself.”
“Where are you taking me?” Sam demanded. The men laughed at him as they guided him to the kitchen on the first floor of the abandoned hospital. Finding the old refrigerator unit, Matt opened the door while Skip shoved him in there.
“Have a nice night!” he sang before Matt shut the door. Sam launched himself at the door only to find that there was no handle to get out from inside the refrigerator unit. If he remembered correctly, it was also an air-tight unit as well. With no power, it was pitch black in the small room. Sam started to panic, banging on the refrigerator door.
“Let me out of here! Let me out!!” he shouted. He tried to shove the door open, run his fingers along the walls to find a weakness, and even find a vent somewhere that he could possibly break through. Nothing. He was alone in a room with limited air supply and no light. It was only a matter of time before the oxygen would run out and he would suffocate. His panic only grew.
“God, Dean, I’m so sorry. Please. Please find me,” he begged, tears forming in his eyes again as he panted. His panic attack was short-lived though, as he felt himself grow tired.
Sam sat on the grass near a lake in the woods. Birds chirped in the woods around him, the breeze rustling the leaves. The water rippled slightly as fish came to the surface and ate the bugs that danced across the top of the water. When Sam ran his fingers over the grass, he felt the individual blades. They were sun-warmed and smelled fresh.
“How did you end up here this time, Sam?” Lucifer asked, sitting down next to him. Sam immediately stiffened. The two men looked over the water until Lucifer turned and looked at Sam. Sam avoided his eyes.
“I asked you a question,” the Devil said, his voice sharpening slightly. Sam swallowed.
“They locked me in a refrigerator,” he said softly. Lucifer chuckled.
“Those guys are creative, I’ll give them that,” he said. They sat quietly for a moment together. “I’m betting if I send you back right now, you’d still be in that refrigerator. Care to find out?”
Sam was about to answer when Lucifer touched his head with two fingers.
Sam opened his eyes and gasped but didn’t see anything but darkness. He felt his lungs tighten in his chest, desperate for air that wasn’t there. Slowly, he felt himself drift off once again, his heart thudding hard in his chest.
“And again, so quickly. So, it was the fridge then?” Lucifer said with a frown. Sam looked at his hands then at Lucifer with wide, scared eyes.
“And you haven’t figured out who really has you yet, have you?” he said with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. Sam’s expression turned confused.
“What?” he breathed. Lucifer shook his head.
“Nope, I’m not giving you any clues. That would ruin the game. You have to figure it out yourself,” he said, holding a hand up. Sam suddenly got angry.
“This isn’t a game! This is… This is torture!” he shouted. Lucifer suddenly glared at Sam.
“Yes,” he said stonily. “It’s absolutely torture. It’s not something you should be dealing with and if you told me where you were, Samuel, I would be there to stop it and you wouldn’t be in pain anymore. I’ve already told you how much I care about you. What more do I have to do?”
Sam swallowed nervously, eyeing Lucifer with fear.
“You are my one true vessel, Samuel. I can protect you if you tell me where you are,” Lucifer reiterated. Sam shook his head.
“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know where I am,” he replied quietly. Lucifer sighed disappointedly.
“Well, then,” the Devil said. He snapped his fingers and Sam went back.
Sam gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut when he came to, trying to hold his breath. He knew there was no air in the fridge he was in, and he didn’t want to die right away. He wanted to see if he could find an emergency exit button or something before he passed out again. He crawled toward the door and felt once again for a handle. It was only a minute later that he was unconscious on the ground.
It went on like that for hours: waking, gasping for air and suffocating inside the refrigerator. Until one time when he woke up the door was open. When he gasped, he inhaled air and his lungs expanded painfully. Sam panted, his hands clawing at his chest as four men stared down at him. He barely followed what was being said above him.
“What did I tell ya?” Billy asked, staring down at Sam.
“What the actual fuck, dude,” another voice said. “How in the hell did you get Sam Winchester away from his brother?”
“Dean gave up on him. Left him out on his own, so we plucked him up and have been keeping him here for a few weeks now,” Billy responded. Sam started coughing, rolling on his side.
“And you’re telling me he can’t die? Like, at all?” a woman’s voice said.
“Nope. Every time we’ve killed him, he’s come back. Said Lucifer doesn’t want him dead. How fucked up is that?” Billy said. Sam had started to push himself up on all fours when Billy pushed the barrel of his gun to the side of his head. “Get up slowly, demon boy, and put your hands behind your back.”
Sam frowned, doing what he said. Once his hands were behind his back, he felt the cold of metal handcuffs being snapped tightly around his wrists. The gun was moved from the side of his head to the base of his skull.
“Walk,” Billy said, shoving the gun against him. Sam darted a glance at the other people with Billy, realizing the two men and a woman who were with him were not the people who were there before. “I said, walk demon boy!”
Sam started walking, following one of the men to a wing of the hospital he hadn’t been to before. His nerves started to get the best of him, realizing this couldn’t be a good thing. Once they entered a room, he realized there was a chair in the middle of it with chains to hold him and a tray of items he was sure were going to be used against him. He tried to back out of the room. He got a gunshot to the thigh for his effort.
Sam collapsed with a shout of pain, blood seeping through his jeans from the gunshot wound.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Billy? You wanna wake the others up?” the female shouted at him, looking over her shoulder in a panic. The two men he didn’t know came over and dragged Sam over to the chair.
“They are asleep on the other side of the hospital, they didn’t hear a thing,” Billy said with a laugh. The woman watched as Sam was chained to the chair.
“So, who wants to go first?” Billy asked, waving a hand over the items. One of the men walked over and grabbed a metal rod. He tested the weight of it against his opposite hand as he walked over to where Sam was now sitting. Sam eyed the man warily. With a sadistic smile, he swung the rod at Sam’s chest. A loud crack was heard throughout the room. Billy laughed as Sam gasped for breath. He set his gun aside and walked over to Sam, punching him in the face. Billy and one man then took turns hitting Sam, leaving the woman and a third man standing by to watch. They shared a look of concern.
“You two don’t want to take a turn?” Billy asked.
“Oh, no. This is all you two,” the woman said, holding her hands up. “I’m perfectly good watching.”
“What about him?” Billy said, nodding to the other person in the room who had yet to speak a word. The woman turned and looked at the man standing near her. He stared stoically at Billy and the other man.
“I’m gonna go with no. Jackson’s gonna watch too,” the woman said with a smirk. Billy shook his head with a smirk.
“What, he doesn’t talk?” Billy asked.
“No… not so much,” the woman said.
“Suit yourself,” Billy shrugged, walking back over to the table of tools. Billy picked up the silver blade and tested its weight in his hand. The other man walked over and threw the rod down. Sam gasped for breath as he rested his chin on his chest.
“Watch this,” Billy said, walking back over to Sam. The woman moved to stand in front of Jackson.
“Y’all ready for this?” he asked. Billy grabbed a handful of hair, then pulled the blade clean through the strands. His laugh echoed through the room as he sprinkled the cut hair over Sam’s body. Billy continued to cut Sam’s hair off until most of the long locks were gone. The haphazard haircut left Sam crying silent tears.
“And now for the grand finale,” Billy said, grabbing Sam’s head and pulling it back. The motion exposed Sam’s throat to the room. Sam’s one eye that wasn’t swollen shut widened as he realized what was about to happen
“This is how we take care of traitors,” the man said, taking the knife and slicing it across Sam’s throat, blood spurting forward in a spray. Sam choked on his own blood, his mouth gaping. The blood spilled down his front, coating himself in the dark blood.
“What the fuck is going on here!?” Carl shouted as he walked into the room, Paul hot on his heels. Billy smirked over at Carl and Paul, the sounds of Sam still choking echoing in the room.
“I’m showing my friends what’s up with the demon boy,” Billy said proudly, his hands displaying the now twitching corpse of Sam Winchester. The blood from his throat glistened in the low light as it continued its slow descent from his slit throat to the floor. With a growl of frustration, Paul stormed up to him and punched him in the face with inhuman force. Billy staggered back in surprise, a hand cupping his now bleeding nose. He looked up at Paul with shock in his wide eyes.
“You have put us in a great deal of danger bringing outsiders into our operation,” Paul said, his voice low and controlled, his eyes glowing a violently bright blue. Billy’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and he straightened. It was like another force had taken over his body.
“I did no such thing,” his voice thundered angrily, echoing loudly through the room. “These people are like us and want judgement for the wrongs Samuel has committed against us.” The room crackled with ethereal energy as the men stood up to each other. The other hunters in the room moved away from the men, eyeing them warily.
“Take the demon boy and hang him in his room by his wrists and watch him. Make sure no one else goes into the room,” Carl demanded of Billy. Billy’s bright blue eyes narrowed on the man.
“It is not you who is my superior, therefore you are not giving me any orders,” Billy seethed.
“He is my second in command, and you will do as he says,” Paul growled.
“Is that so?” Billy growled. Paul stepped forward.
“Do it now, Qaphsiel,” he said firmly. The group watched as Billy touched Sam’s body, the ties instantly falling away from his body with a sizzle of a blue-green glow. Billy then grabbed Sam by what was left of his hair and dragged his body away from the room, a trail of blood being left behind.
“I…I thought his name was Billy,” the man who had beaten Sam said weakly. Carl and Paul turned and looked at the others standing in the room. Carl looked at the two standing there and narrowed his eyes.
“Wasn’t there three of you?” he questioned. The woman shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.
“No. It was always just the two of us,” she said with disdain. Paul and Carl shared a look with each other. “Why? What happens now?”
Bobby walked over to his computer and turned the machine on, sitting back and sipping on his coffee while the thing booted up. He was still adamantly against using this kind of technology, but if he wanted to be more involved with the rest of the world, he had to step it up and get with it. So, he went and got one and he used it for some research and to keep up with email.
Once the machine was fully up and running, Bobby opened his internet browser and went to his email. Most of what he got was junk mail anyway, and he didn’t think he’d get much different that morning until he spotted an unusual-looking subject line. You should know about this Curious, he clicked on the email. Attached to it was a video clip. The body of the email was short and concise: “They’ve got Sam.”
Bobby clicked on the video clip, and it was obvious it was taken in secret. Inside the room was a group of men laughing and carrying on, surrounding someone who was tied to a chair. The one in the chair looked awful: emaciated and beaten up badly.
“Y’all ready for this?” the man behind the restrained guy asked. He received cheers from the group. The man grabbed a handful of hair and yanked the restrained guy’s head up and Bobby gasped as he recognized Sam’s face covered in swollen bruises and obviously infected cuts.
“This is how we take care of traitors,” the man said. Then he took a knife and sliced it across Sam’s throat, blood spurting forward in a spray that reached where the camera was. Bobby immediately turned and vomited into the trash can next to his desk, heaving up the coffee he had just been sipping on. Soon, his vomiting turned into dry heaves, his heart and his chest hurting with the amount of grief that overcame him as he realized that he just witnessed Sam’s death.
Turning away from his desk and computer, Bobby stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed his phone. As soon as Dean answered, Bobby was all but begging.
“Tell me Sam is with you,” Bobby pleaded in a sob.
“Bobby?” Dean questioned.
“Tell me!!” Bobby shouted.
“No. Sam and I haven’t been together in weeks, you know this. Why, what’s going…”
“Get your ass to my place. Now.”
Hours later, Dean put the car in park in front of Bobby’s place, a puff of dust surrounding the Impala from the gravel. He climbed out of the car and stretched his back out before slamming the door shut behind him. Climbing the stairs to the front door, Bobby met him on the porch.
“Where the hell is Sam?” Bobby ground out, grabbing Dean by the arm. Dean looked at the older man confused.
“What’s going on Bobby?” Dean asked. Bobby shook Dean.
“Where the hell is he?!” Bobby shouted. Dean swallowed, putting his hands on his hips. Bobby dropped his hand, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know, Bobby. I haven’t spoken to him in weeks. Last time I talked to him, he wanted to get back together, and I told him we were better off working apart,” Dean explained, turning, and looking away.
Castiel x Reader
Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day!!! While Sam, Dean, and Y/N look into a hunt, Gabriel gives Castiel a crash course in dating. Though the angel is secretly pining after Y/N, it may not have been a good idea to let Gabriel meddle with his love life…
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“Hey bro, what’s going on?”
Castiel turned up from his book and saw Gabriel leaning over the table in front of him, chocolate bar in hand.
“Hello Gabriel,” the angel nodded tersely. “What do you want?”
“Easy there, slugger!” Gabriel said with a laugh. “No need for the hostility. I come in peace. More or less…”
Castiel sighed and turned back to his book. “I’m going to continue reading now,” he said.
“Suit yourself.”
Gabriel stayed perched on the edge of the table. He unwrapped his chocolate with great care before tossing the foil just shy of the ledgers fanned out in front of him. Castiel’s grip on his book tightened as Gabriel began humming and riffling through the carefully organized documents.
“Gabriel,” Castiel said through gritted teeth. “Sam and Dean are trusting me to conduct the relevant research pertaining to their case.” He looked up with a glare. “So unless you have something important to share, please leave mealone.”
Gabriel froze and puffed out a cheek at Castiel’s sternness. He gulped down the chocolate he was chewing and cleared his throat. “I’ll have you know that I do have something to share,” he said confidently.
Castiel let out a deep breath. “And what would that be?”
“Check the date,” he said simply.
Castiel studied him carefully before pulling out his cell. “It’s Monday,” he said dryly.
“Almost there,” Gabriel pushed.
“Monday… February fourteenth?” Castiel asked after checking again.
“You’re killing me here,” Gabriel cried out. “IT’S VALENTINE’S DAY!”
Castiel blinked with confusion. “Happy Valentine’s Day?” he said hesitantly.
Gabriel groaned before standing up and pacing to the other end of the room. “Come on! Today’s your chance to finally make a move, big guy! You know, woo the girl?”
It finally dawned on Castiel what Gabriel was getting at. His cheeks reddened as he sat stoically behind the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
Gabriel huffed and pointed a finger. “Sorry pal, but I think we both know that’s a lie.”
Castiel licked his lips before looking down sheepishly.
“Listen buddy, I’m not judging you here,” Gabriel pressed. “I’m only bringing it up because I thought maybe I could help you out.”
Castiel shot him a glare but before he could respond, the door to the motel opened and Y/N and the Winchesters hurried in.
“Hey guys,” Y/N called out. “How’s the research going?”
“Swell!” Gabriel chimed in with a wink. “Cassie here’s been nodding off, but don’t worry, Ol’ Gabe’s gotch’ya wacky kids covered.”
“Yeah well, Ol’ Gabe can stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Dean growled. “We know what we’re hunting.”
Y/N approached Castiel and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Dean’s still not happy about teaming up with him,” she said.
Castiel flinched at her sudden proximity and tried to think of something to say. He looked up at her and smiled shyly. “Today is February fourteenth,” he stammered.
Y/N quirked a brow. “That’s cool…” she said uncertainly before walking away and taking a seat on the nearby bed.
Castiel felt his cheeks warm as he turned back to the conversation.
“It’s a shifter,” Sam explained. “A nasty one, too. From what we can tell, it’s got a hideout back at the abandoned High School on Richmond Street.”
“We’re headed there now, but wanted to pick you guys up in case we need any divine intervention, you know?” Dean said.
Y/N nodded, then looked at Castiel. “Anyway, we’re going to pack some weapons in the trunk. Why don’t you and Gabriel meet us out front in five?”
She smiled, but he turned quickly, shying away from her attention. Castiel watched as his three friends left the motel room, Y/N glancing at him before walking out the door.
“Well, you’re hopeless,” Gabriel sighed as soon as the door shut.
Castiel closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. It was true. He cared for Y/N but didn’t know how to go about telling her.
“Gabriel?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
Castiel opened his eyes, a new look of resilience shining in them. “I think it’s time I accept your help. How can I wooY/N?”
Gabriel smirked, taken by his brother’s sudden determination. He straightened the collar of his leather jacket and rubbed his hands together. “Alright amigo,” he said. “Here’s what we’re gonna do…”
***
Castiel sat in the backseat of the Impala between Gabriel and Y/N as the Winchesters drove to Richmond Street.
He sat rigidly with his hands on his lap, acutely aware of Y/N sitting beside him. Castiel felt something nudge his arm and turned to his right.
“Remember what we talked about!” Gabriel whispered sharply. “You’ve gotta count shoulders when you’re close together. This is your shot!”
Castiel nodded and winked. “Yes. I remember now,” he whispered back. Before they had joined the Winchesters on their hunt, Gabriel had given Castiel a crash course in flirting, guaranteeing that Y/N would be hooked by the time they killed the shifter.
Castiel cleared his throat and stared intently at Y/N. When she noticed him eyeing her critically, she turned to look at him. “Hey Cas. Is something wrong?”
“Y/N,” he said tensely. “I would very much like to count our shoulders.”
“You’d like to do what?”
Y/N watched as the angel tapped both his shoulders and her own. “One… two… three… four…” he muttered under his breath. He then wrapped an arm around her, and pulled her close against him.
“Castiel,” Y/N said, her voice muffled by his coat. “This is too close…”
The angel panicked and pushed her away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to cause discomfort.”
Gabriel snorted. “Great job,” he whispered sarcastically. “I can really see the romance blooming.”
“Alright, I have no idea what’s going on back there, but maybe you guys can hold off until we ice this shifter,” Dean called from up front.
“Yeah, sounds good to me,” Y/N agreed before rushing out the car door. Castiel had been acting strangely around her lately, and she was concerned.
Sam loaded up their weapons and surveyed the abandoned building. The sun was setting quickly, so they would only have an hour of daylight before the High School went dark.
“Alright Sammy,” Dean said, hitching a silver blade to his belt. “What’s the plan?”
Sam turned back to the group and nodded. “Dean and I are going to take the East wing and see if the shifter’s holed up in any of the classrooms. Meanwhile, Y/N, we need you, Cas, and Gabriel to take the Right wing and check the basement for anything suspicious. If anyone finds the monster, then-”
“I’m not liking this plan.”
Everyone looked at Gabriel. “Excuse me?” Dean said.
The angel shrugged. “I’d rather be Team Winchester,” he said simply.
“That’s not happening,” Dean laughed. “Not by a long shot.”
“Actually Dean, that might be a good idea.” Sam relented. “Better to have an angel on both sides of the building in case we run into anything, right?”
“Great! It’s settled!” Gabriel clapped. He nudged Castiel and whispered, “You’re welcome. Now’s your chance to make a move without interruption! Just you and Y/N… and maybe a shifter if your luck goes sour. Have fun!”
The group entered the building and separated at the front door. Soon, Castiel and Y/N were wandering the halls alone. The angel wracked his brain, trying to remember everything that Gabriel had taught him about flirting. Y/N had paced ahead of him, so he took a breath and ran to her side.
He nudged her arm and flashed a smile. “So… baby…” he said awkwardly. “Maybe we should-”
Y/N brought out her silver blade and nicked his hand. Castiel looked down at the wound. “Why would you do that?” he asked, perplexed.
Y/N stifled a laugh. “Sorry Cas! I thought you might have been the shifter.”
He cocked his head in surprise. “Why?”
She sighed before coming to a halt. “I don’t know what’s going on with you today, but you’ve been off,” she admitted. “Counting shoulders? Corny pet names? What’s the deal?”
Castiel looked down in defeat. “I understand,” he said. “You find me to be an inadequate lover.”
Y/N took a breath, overwhelmed by the angel’s oddity. “Gabriel put you up to this, didn’t he?”
He nodded solemnly. “I care for you, Y/N,” he said. “Very much. When Gabriel offered his romantic expertise, I accepted because I had no idea how to approach you myself.”
“That was a mistake,” Y/N said simply. She put a hand on his shoulder and met his gaze. “You don’t need to put on an act for me to like you, Cas. You’re already my favourite person.” She smiled and kissed him softly on the cheek.
Castiel tensed for a moment before leaning forwards and pressing his forehead against hers. “I don’t think I’ll be asking Gabriel for advice anytime soon,” he whispered.
She laughed before pulling away. “I think that would be best. Now what do you say we kill ourselves a monster, then make it home in time for a movie?”
Castiel nodded. “I’d like that.” He watched as Y/N grinned and turned away. “Y/N,” he called from behind. She looked over her shoulder. “Yeah, Cas?”
“Today is February the fourteenth.”
Her brows furrowed for a second, before the date finally made sense. “I guess it is,” she chuckled. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
With that, the angel and the hunter set off together, the start of something new between them.
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Heyy!!! Try reading All To Themselves!!!
I was late finishing this one in time for Valentine’s… SORRY!!!! I kind of rushed through it right now… Dating 101- ALWAYS count shoulders when the opportunity presents itself… I saw this in a movie once… wonderfully awkward.
HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!
If you’d like to be tagged in any future Supernatural fics, just tell me in the comments… or visit mytaglist! (and if you’d rather not be tagged in ALL Supernatural fics, please specify; EX: Reader x Dean, Christmas with TFW series, etc…)
REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!
HAVE A BRILLIANT DAY!!!
tagging the striking: @starstruck-loner @the-chaotic-cow@tuttifuckinfruttifriday@adaydreamaway08@stitchintimefan@andthevillainshallrises@justyourlocalwhore@waiting-for-cas-to-save-me@leigh70
Warnings: failed attempt at seduction, adorably confused angels
Words: 732
Prompts Used (found here, credit to @writing-prompts-list ): Who plays or tries to play the piano, and who climbs on the piano and tries to lay “seductively” on top
It wasn’t very often that you got the bunker to yourself. You spent most days with the Winchesters hunting or looking for information on the villain of the week, and the occasional off day had you more or less babysitting the boys to keep them out of trouble. For once, however, they had left you to your own devices and you fully intended to take advantage of it.
Of the many, many rooms of the bunker, your favorite was the one with the spotless white piano. The first time you guys stumbled upon it you had to excuse yourself so they didn’t see the tears it inspired. Seeing it made you think of your mother and all the time the two of you had spent together in her music room, before she was dragged away by ghouls when you were twelve. Each note felt like a beautiful homage to her and it had always been one of your biggest regrets that you couldn’t play more for her.
As your fingers danced across the keys to the tune of “Sixteen Going on Seventeen”, you heard the distinctive rustle of feathers as your favorite angel appeared next to you. He glanced at you curiously and opened his mouth to say something, but he must have remembered past scoldings from you and stayed quiet until the last note rang through the air.
“Hey Castiel, how are you?” You turned gracefully on the bench and smiled warmly at him.
“Hello.” He returned your grin, his blue eyes shining. “I am well, and you?”
“Very well,” Hesitating, you added quietly, “I missed you though, Cas.”
It took the angel a second to respond, a little concerned about how fast his vessel’s heart was beating. He swallowed thickly before answering just as softly.
“I missed you too… Very much so. I thought of you often.”
You two just sat there staring at each other with goofy smiles for a few seconds before you glanced back down at the piano, already missing the music.
“Would you like me to play you something?” You gestured to the keys as his brows furrowed. “I have a lot of different sheet music if you’d like to pick something out too.”
He nodded carefully, still eyeing the piano as you got up to look through your books in the desk behind you. Dean had once made him watch a movie where, in a particular scene, a woman had climbed up atop it while a man played it. The man seemed to be very interested in the movement for some reason, he had noted, so much so that he had kissed the woman senseless right there. He asked Dean what it was about the musical box that made the woman so attractive, but Dean had just laughed at him.
You trailed your fingers across spine after spine of music collection until you stumbled upon one with hits of the 80’s. Covering a mouth to hide a giggle at your own silliness, you pulled out the sheet music for “Angel of the Morning”, thinking he’d appreciate the joke. You paused for a second considering how the song was kind of romantic, but then again you and Castiel had always been a little more romantic than platonic… Maybe the nudge wouldn’t hurt. Turning around to tell him what you chose, your voice died in your throat and you froze as you took in the scene before you.
Castiel had swung himself on top of the piano somehow, the edges of his trench coat trailing over the sides. He laid on his back with one leg bent up, his foot popping up on the heel. He had one hand awkwardly twisted back so it was curled into his own hair. The other flopped to the side and hit a few keys on the way down. It took you a few seconds of watching him do an awkward twisting motion for you to realize he was attempting to arch his back up off of the wood in, what you would guess to be, a sexual motion. Cas glanced pleadingly at you, as if asking for your thoughts. You just kept staring, open-mouthed and completely silent thanks to the spectacle before you.
“Hmm… This did not work like I thought it would.” He looked very genuinely disappointed for a moment. “Perhaps those heeled shoes she wore would have helped.”
Author’s note: Finally started watching Supernatural, as you can see! ;)
I Believe In Miracles (Cas x Reader) (Completed)
The brothers find out Cas may have a slight crush on the reader, and unfortunately for Cas, the timing couldn’t be better…for Sam and Dean. Cas has to make a quick decision when the reader needs his help.
