English is my second language, so there are errors, lot's of errors.
If you have time, please let me know what you think.
The insisting beep kept pounding on his senses, rudely intruding on his blissful dark world, and as if that wasn't bad enough, new voices joined in, making Dean irritably angry. He wanted to snap at whoever caused the noise, and demand more of the tugging comfort of oblivion, but for some reason finding his voice turned to be a more difficult task than he imagined. He was so tired, but once he realized how uncooperative his body was, worry began to set in, and he fought to regain consciousness.
His eye lids felt like they weighed a ton, but after a serious effort of fluttering, blinking and shifting, his eyes opened successfully, and Dean stared at the strange eager faces with an unhappy frown.
"Welcome back, young man."
Dean licked his parched lips, and struggled to find his voice and keep his eyes fixed on the man who greeted him at the same time.
"What?" Doctor Jackson couldn't quiet hear what the young man was desperately trying to say, so he leaned closer, "I didn't get that."
"Ma- my brother and father," Doctor Jackson finally heard, "where?"
John Winchester was exhausted. He wanted to keep working, not admitting that the main reason for that was to take his mind off the shattering reality of the recent events, but he knew that no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't, fatigue was taking its toll on him, so he decided to finally call it a day.
He entered his cheap motel room with heavy steps, and dropped his strained body on the bed. John ran a shaky hand over his face and sighed tiredly. His stomach grumbled in complain, reminding him of the missed lunch. He stared at the uneaten sandwich without interest. Then he reminded himself of what became his daily task. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed a number then waited for an answer.
"Ms. Layne, how are you."
"Mr. Winchester," Layne recognized the voice immediately, "Please wait a second."
John sighed and closed his eyes. It wasn't the first time the kind nurse asked him to hold, but each time she does, his heart skips a beat, and he begins to pray silently that his worst fear didn't come true.
This time however, he was in for a surprise. The unexpected sound of his eldest son, greeted him.
John couldn't believe his ears. "Dean? Son?" John's voice cracked betraying him, and he didn't try to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes and slowly began to carve their way down his face. "Thank God! Thank God!"
"Dad, what's going on?" Dean asked weakly, "Are you okay?"
"I"m fine," John took a moment to collect himself before answering.
"What about Sam?" Dean asked after a slight pause; he feared the answer. When he asked the hospital, they told him only he and his father were admitted that god forsaken night, and they don't know anything about his brother. Dean refused to believe the implication of that information.
John paused a moment, closing his eyes sadly.
"Dad?" Dean demanded, almost angrily.
"That son of a bitch took him," John revealed brokenly, "He snatched him while we were out cold."
Dean squeezed the phone tightly, almost breaking it. "What do you mean, he took him?"
"The demon has Sammy, Dean."
Sam should've been accustomed to the pain by now, but he wasn't. His breaths came in heavy gasps as he struggled to control the insisting jolts of pain. His whole body hurts. His chest hurt more than anything and his bound hands were pressed protectively against it in a pathetic effort to lessen the pain. His teeth were clenched so tightly, afraid if he loosened them, a scream might find a way out – just like last time, and Sam didn't want to scream again-he didn't want to give 'it' the satisfaction. He was curled onto himself. The door cracked open, and Sam closed his eyes readying himself for what was about to happen.
"How are you today, Sam?"
Sam ignored him, and kept his eyes fixed on the ground, not wanting to look into his eyes and see the satisfaction his pain and pathetic state provided the demon.
The demon knelt down by his side, and not so gently grabbed Sam's jaw. "Why don't you just stop struggling, Sammy. Let it go, leave your pain and surrender, it's easy."
"Leave me alone," Sam gritted out. The demon smiled, and as expected, the pain attacked again sending him into a pitiful whimpering state.
"Stop..," Sam gasped, as he struggled to escape the pain that seemed to be coming from no where.
His chest felt like it was being sliced in two, sending uncontrollable agony shooting through his back and the rest of his body. The pain eased, and Sam was left panting and clutching his chest weakly.
"You can make it all stop, Sammy," the demon started again, "Here, let me make it better."
Sam tried to turn away, but the demon had him under control, and soon his face was held in place against his will, and the demon approached with a glass full of a pinkish looking liquid.
Sam gaped dreadfully at the harmless looking object, before the glass was put to his lips. "Drink, Sammy. It will make the pain go away."
When Sam refused to carry out the order, the demon pushed the glass up, and forced the foul tasting liquid down his throat. Sam gagged and gasped at the offending taste, but an unseen force kept pushing the liquid down his throat, almost suffocating him. The demon ceased when the glass was empty, and released his demonic hold on the young man.
The demon watched silently as Sam coughed and struggled to bring his breathing back under control, and when the younger boy finally settled down, the demon smiled. "Better?"
Now that he could breathe again, Sam realized he did feel better. The pain was melting away, and a blissful numbness spread through his body, making him sigh in content.
The demon's smile spread, and he lifted a hand to cup Sam's chin again, only this time he was gentle. Sam didn't push away.
"See, I told you it was going to make you feel better, Sammy."
"I can give you more; as much as you'd like."
"I can make you feel better, Sam. Better than ever before."
He licked his lips.
"You're brother is awake."
Sam's head snapped up, and he stared at the demon with wide unbelieving eyes.
"I'm not lying, Sammy. Your brother is awake, and in time will be ready to look for you, just like your father is looking for you now. But they won't find you, not unless I want them to. You see Sammy, the only reason they're alive is that I let them, so I can use them ...to control you."
Sam closed his eyes, and tried to push away, but the demon kept his hold.
"You do want to see them again, don't you Sam? I can let you go, and you can see them again. I can make you feel better, Sam. Only you have to do me few favors. Small little favors."
God, how he despises that creature! How he wishes he could kill it right now!
The moment Dean stepped out of the hospital he was struck by the painful air of reality. Now that he was able to stand back on his feet, he wasted no time to start looking for his brother, but the truth remains that the doctor was right, he was not strong enough yet to leave the hospital – let alone to walk around. But Sammy needed him, and he would do anything to get him back.
He couldn't - wouldn't even consider that Sammy was lost forever. His brother was alive, and he'll get him back, like he always did. Dean felt weak, tired and helpless. He was sick with worry- the mere thought of his little brother being in the hands of that demon, made him sick to his stomach.
Now, where to start?
Four days later ...
Dean's cell phone started to ring, arousing him from his restless slumber. He snatched the phone, and without bothering to check the number he accepted the call. "Yeah?"
"Who is this?"
Dean knew that the logical choice was to end the call, but for some unexplained reason, his heart began to thump funnily in his chest, and his breaths quickened.
He could hear a small shallow sound of someone breathing on the other line, and then..
Dean bolted upright in bed, holding his breath, he couldn't believe his ears. "Sam? Sammy, is that you?"
Silence, and then in a small reluctant voice, "Dean, could you come and get me?"