AN: Yes, this is a short chapter. That's because it's only the dream. My computer died after my last update and we had to buy an all new one, so this is all I had wrote out. Plus I want to write two chapters by Sunday night so I can finish up 'Happy fathers day' BY fathers day. Updates might slow down a bit, because I want to play around with some ideas I have for another story, but since it's summer…anyway, here's the next chapter.
Also, you should pay close attention to the dream. There's some hints dropped in about what's going on with Dean, and about future chapters.
Disclaimer: The lawyers told me there was no way to take over Supernatural, so I guess I don't own it.
Chapter 5: Torture
It was blurry. That was the first thing that occurred to Dean when he blinked his eyes. Everything was blurry and hazy, and his head was spinning even though he knew he hadn't moved. It was as if his vision had been turned down to only see the main aspects of the room.
He was also confused, a moment ago things had been clear. Dark but clear, but suddenly everything had turned hazy, as if gazing through a thick fog.
He didn't feel any pain, not at first anyway. He didn't feel the ropes digging into his wrists, though he did feel the blood running down them. It was running down his arms in criss-crossing patterns. The coppery smell filled his nose, and he wasn't entirely sure how he knew the pattern of his blood, but it's all his head was willing to comprehend at the moment.
After a few minutes his head stopped spinning, though his vision still hadn't cleared. But then he heard Sam's scream, his little brothers pained scream, and he focused enough to move his gaze around the room until he saw Sam.
When he did, Dean swore his heart stopped for a second. The knife, the knife he had sworn he'd just seen but wasn't sure, was logged deep in Sam's shoulder. Blood was seeping from the wound in quick running streams, and a fuzzy hand was holding the handle, twisting the knife, making Sam's scream louder.
Dean wanted to yell at the figure to stop, wanted to scream at the thing to get the hell away from his baby brother, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a weak moan. Dean could barley hear it himself.
The strangely blurred figure had removed the knife from Sam's shoulder and was now pressing it right next to Sam's eye, just hard enough to draw blood. He dragged the knife closer until the knife point was not even a centimeter away from touching his eye.
The figure didn't move for a minute, then abruptly stuck the knife into Sam's eye.
The screams were instant. Blood and water oozed from the punctured eyeball, running in quick rivers down his face. Fluids poured out quickly and Sam's screams grew louder. He jerked his head to the side and blood as well as other fluids ran into his mouth. He choked, trying not to swallow and moved his head back, tears in his unharmed eye.
"Sammy," Dean said in a hoarse voice, and his head fell to his chest.
A soft female voice filled the room, but Dean couldn't find the energy to lift his head. He did however, hear every word clearly. Apparently the strange fog had affected just his eyes, and not his hearing.
"Do you know what I will do next Dean?" the voice asked tauntingly. "I will pull the flesh from his bones and feed it to the wolves just outside this room. I will break every bone in his body, and you will watch. You will see what I do to him, then I will do the same to you.
"No," Dean said. "You won't, you can't."
"Oh but I can, and I will."
The voice was annoyingly familiar, like someone he had spoken to briefly a long time ago. "You won't. I-I'll stop you."
The voice sounded angry now. "Don't even dream of stopping me."
Dean managed a little sarcasm in his now weary voice. "I'd never dream of watching you die for what you did to my brother."
He lifted his eyes to the owner of the voice, who was still standing by Sam who had fallen unconscious.
"You wouldn't dream of killing me Dean. This is your dream, this is what you want to happen. Whatever you dream here comes true, because it is what you want."
"That's a lie!"
The figure chuckled. "I can assure you that it's not."
"Sammy, I sometimes get mad at him," his voice faltered, but he pressed himself to go on. "But never, not something like this," he broke off and started coughing.
"This is your twisted imagination Dean, and like it or not you are the one in control of your dreams."
Even my mind isn't this sick.
"You seem to know a lot about this, it's you, you're making me dream this."
"I'm not making you do anything. Now, I think it's time you wake up. There's not much more to do tonight…" she trailed off a moment. "I think your brain has drained itself of creative torturing methods for now."
Dean struggled against the ropes as the figure traced a hand along Sam's cheekbone. They stopped and turned towards Dean, a mocking smile on their face.
Dean felt a burning pain fill his eyes, and a sudden sensation in his throat as if being filled with thick water that stopped him from breathing. Suddenly, he jerked up in bed with a loud yell. His breaths came out in loud pants, and he jumped when the light turned on from next to Sam's bed.
"Dean? What's wrong?"
Dean knew now, that this had gotten way out of control. He had to tell Sam that something was going on.
AN: Dun dun dun. Is Dean really dreaming this up on his own, or his someone interfering? I wonder if you could pick up any clues? I think I made some points a little obvious, as well as some nice foreshadowing. I was a little nervous about this chapter, was it done okay? Please let me know.