Note: I've made some major edits to this story, particularly formatting. I hope it's easier to read now! It's one of my first fanfics, from way back in 2007, I believe. I was very green back then. :)
The bar was closing, and Sam was sure his brother was wondering where he was. Sam had wanted to go out for a few beers, but, Dean, feeling a bit ill, opted to stay at the motel room.
Sam fingered the keys to the Impala as he walked toward the car. The parking lot had suddenly gotten quiet. It was almost ominous. The Impala was parked to the right of the small parking lot. Everyone else had left.
Looking cautiously around him, he unlocked the driver's door. Before he could open the door, he felt something that made a cold shiver run up and down his spine. Something else was there.
Several thoughts ran through Sam's head at the moment. What the hell is out there? Is my gun loaded? What happens if I'm ambushed? Maybe I should just get in the car and drive away. Maybe it won't follow me.
As suddenly as the feeling started, it stopped completely. Sam got into the car as fast as humanly possible and left the bar. Ten minutes later he was caught at a red light, and the feeling came back. All of a sudden something shattered the driver's side window, and Sam felt two hands grip him firmly around the neck and slam his head into the steering wheel a few times, knocking him unconscious.
Dean awoke the next morning to find he was still alone in the motel room. Sam's bed had not been slept in. Fearing something might be wrong, he hurriedly put some clothes on and tried his brother's cell phone. When he got no answer, which was odd for his brother, Dean got really worried. Stuffing his wallet in his back pocket, he left to go find his brother, and the car. Dean knew if something happened to Sam and the Impala got towed, it would be a matter of time before it was searched and someone found the arsenal in the trunk. Dean was hoping to God that Sam had hooked up last night. If that was the case, he was so getting his ass kicked when Dean found him.
The first conscious thought Sam had when he came to was that it was cold, wherever he was. Whoever had brought him here had also chained him to a concrete wall. Instinctively, he tried to break free of the metal cuffs, but to no avail. There was a bloody gash on his forehead from when his assailant bashed his head against the steering wheel of the Impala. Oh God, The Impala. What if the cops found it, searched it? He and Dean would be screwed if the cops found the arsenal of weapons they kept in the trunk. Sam was sure his brother would realize the same thing, and go looking for the car before beginning his search for Sam.
A door opened somewhere off to the left, and Sam got a better glimpse of his surroundings. It looked as if he was in the basement of some kind of warehouse. He heard footsteps coming toward him, and a middle-aged man strode toward him. Sam couldn't put his finger on it, but something about the man gave him a familiar feeling, like they had met before, only Sam couldn't recall ever meeting him. He got his answer when the man held out his hand and Sam felt his body slam into the concrete wall.
"Well, well, well," the demon's voice was loud and profound. "Sam Winchester. I wondered when I'd get the pleasure of exacting revenge on you."
"There are a lot of your kind who would love to see my brother and I dead," Sam said, trying to get a rise out of him. It worked, because the demon twisted his hand around, and Sam felt his right arm start twisting excruciatingnly hard, causing him to yelp in pain.
"Ah, true, but this is very special, Sam. Your brother took something from me. I think I should return the gesture." Sam felt his arm twist harder, and he wished he could make it stop. He was immobile, pinned up on the wall like a poster. He heard a loud 'pop' seconds later. His right shoulder was dislocated. At that point the demon stopped twisting his arm and let him back down. "I think you've had enough for now. I'll be back later, to draw some blood." With that the demon promptly left Sam alone.
Conning the impound guy was a piece of cake. Dean loosened his tie as he slid into the driver's seat of the Impala. "It's good to have you back, baby," he said, rubbing the steering wheel with his hand. He got out and checked the trunk, just to make sure everything was there, and drove away. The first place he'd check out was the police station. If there were any reports of an abduction last night, Sam might be one of them.
Using the GPS on his cell phone, Dean located the police station nearest the place where the cops found his car. Straightening his tie, he stuffed the fake FBI badge into his pocket and strode into the building. When he saw the attractive female officer behind the information desk, he knew he could work his mojo on her and get what he needed. In more ways than one.
"Excuse me, Officer -"
"Abbott," she stuck a hand out for him to shake as he walked up to her desk. "Emma Abbott."
"Right, Emma." Dean took out his badge and flashed it almost expertly. He couldn't count the number of times he and Sam had to play the fake FBI con to get information. "I'm Agent Manheim, FBI. I understand your precinct investigated an abduction last night, corner of Elm and Parkwood Avenue?"
"Yes," she said, flushed. "Officer Danforth was the responding officer. Would you like to speak with him?"
For a second Dean thought he blew his con. He could feel the sweat on his brow. He looked at her again, and was reassured that she had no idea he was playing her.
"You don't have to bother him. I just need to see the report."
"Of course." Emma turned in her chair and opened the bottom drawer of her file cabinet marked 1113. She searched among the hanging folders and finally pulled out a report. "Here you go, sir."
Dean read over the report. It was brief, but to the point.
Responded to call for an abandoned vehicle at Elm and Parkwood Avenues. Residents of the area were questioned, and a witness was procured. A Caucasian male, approximately age 23, was dragged out of the car by an unidentified male.
He had read all he needed to, and returned it to Emma. "Thank you, ma'am. You've been helpful." Dean kissed her on the hand and turned on his heel. As he reached the door, another officer came in, and the two stared at each other awkwardly. Dean quickly left and started programming his GPS for the witness' address, which he had written on his hand before handing back the file. He had to know what they saw.
After a few hours hanging on a dislocated shoulder, Sam's pain moved beyond excruciating, and into I want to chew my arm off mode. He tried to push his body up so he wasn't hanging down as much, but the floor underneath him was slippery, and he kept falling back to his knees, groaning with pain. His legs were cramped to the point that if he tried to move them again, he'd pull something. As he kept trying to push himself off of his knees, the door opened again and the demon joined him.
"How's the shoulder, Sammy?" he said. The demon waved his hand, and Sam's head slammed backward into the wall and stayed in that position. The demon wanted to see into his eyes. "I asked you a question, hunter. Answer me!" Sam kept silent.
"Perhaps if I make the pain a little worse, you'll open your mouth and say something useful."
The demon raised a hand and made the twisting motion again. This time Sam's right knee started to twist. He shouted in excruciating pain as the demon tortured him. Through his tears and shouting, Sam swore he heard the demon's maniacal laughter. The demon continued his torture until Sam could scream no more, and he freed the young hunter's leg, for now.
"Now, are you going to talk, hunter?"
"Screw you." Sam didn't have the strength to say anything more. The demon came close to Sam, keeping his head pinned to the wall.
"This is only the beginning, hunter. When your brother gets here, the real party begins." The demon picked up a bucket that had been sitting at his feet. He doused Sam with almost scalding hot water, and listened to him scream in pain. He chuckled evilly. "That was just a little door prize, for my entertainment. You'd better have something to say when I return, Sammy. Your brother's death will be intricately planned. And when I'm done killing you, I'm gonna kill him, nice and slow. It'll be torturous, just like the son of a bitch did to me, right before you read from that book of yours and sent me down to hell."
Sam felt his body go limp again as the demon exited the room. He desperately hoped that Dean would find him soon, so they could kill the son of a bitch that was doing this to him.
Dean slapped his hand against the steering wheel when he saw the flashing lights of a police car behind him. The thought of blowing his cover at the police station entered his mind again as he slowed the Impala and pulled over. He tried to think of another con to pull out of his sleeve as the cop walked up to the car and rapped on the window. Smiling nervously, he rolled it down.
"Good morning, Officer. I-" his heart sank when he saw the officer's face. It was the same cop he had exchanged an awkward glance with as he left he police station.
"Step out of the car please, sir."
"Dammit," Dean whispered to himself as he opened the door and got out of the car. "Turn around, put your hands on the hood of the vehicle."
"Are you going to arrest me?" he asked the officer, trying not to sound pissed off. The cop searched Dean, who had forgotten until now that he had a loaded .45 in one pocket, and a knife the size of a butcher knife in the other. He was going to get arrested for sure. As the thought of sitting in jail while Sam was out there missing ran through his mind, the officer reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the .45.
"Do you have a permit for this?" he asked.
"My dog ate it," said Dean sarcastically. The cop, however, did not think he was funny.
"Hands behind your back. You're under arrest." The cop read him his rights as he slapped the handcuffs on him, and Dean was more pissed than ever as he was shoved into the back of a police car.
For hours the demon came in and out, torturing Sam with everything he could think of. He was beaten, slammed against the wall numerous times, repeatedly doused with scalding water, and his limbs were twisted like a pipe cleaner until he could not take it anymore. The demon's most recent visit brought more scalding water and a little twist of his dislocated arm, which Sam could not feel anymore. As the demon left him again, Sam fell into unconsciousness, welcoming it wholeheartedly.
Another bucket of water jolted Sam awake a few hours later. It had been at least 24 hours since he was abducted, and he started to wonder whether Dean knew he was missing at all, and where the hell he was at that moment when he should be searching for Sam.
"You ready to talk yet, Sammy boy?"
"My name is Sam," he said plainly. The demon slammed his head and shoulders into the wall. Sam couldn't feel the pain anymore. His body was so broken and bruised at this point that he didn't care what the son of a bitch did to him.
"Tell me where to find your brother."
"He's probably out looking for me," he spat back. "You're going to have to find him yourself."
The demon chuckled evilly. "If he were looking for you, he would have found you already, and the two of you would already be dead."
A little bit of strength surged through Sam's body, and he pulled at his restraints in an attempt to free himself.
"Go to hell!" Sam shouted angrily.
"Already been there kid. Don't really want to go back."
An idea hit Sam, and he started reciting an incantation in Latin, hoping it would maybe send the demon back, or at least weaken him. The demon laughed as Sam repeated it over and over, before remembering that he needed a pentagram on the ceiling or floor, and the demon needed to be standing in it.
"Speak all the Latin you want, kid. It's not going to work on me." Sam gave up and the words drifted off. "I'm going to find your brother, and after I'm done killing him, I'm going to put you out of your misery." He looked down at the empty bucket, and it seemed to fill itself up with hot water. The demon picked it up and threw it on Sam, who shouted in pain. His skin was burned and red from the scalding water. He had second degree burns all over his arms and face. The demon left, and Sam was alone. He needed his brother more than ever at the moment, but where the hell was he?
"Dammit!" shouted Dean as he was shoved into a holding cell. "Shove me again and see what happens, dude," he said to the officer, who let out a cocky laugh and sat down to man his post. Dean sat down on the cot and racked his brain. He needed to think of a way out of here so he could find Sam. If he escaped, which he could probably pull off, the cops would surely chase him down, giving him no time to find his brother. He decided instead to call Bobby. At least he could post bail. He got up and went over to the bars. "Hey, sweet cheeks! Do I get a phone call?"
The guard looked up at him. "No."
"It's the law. You don't give me my one phone call, I'll probably walk on a technicality. We wouldn't want that now, would we?" The guard got up and took his keys from his belt.
"Fine. You've got five minutes, kid." The officer opened the cell and slapped some cuffs on the prisoner. He led Dean to a pay phone next to the cell and put 35 cents into it. "Five minutes." Dean rapidly dialed Bobby's cell phone number, and to his relief his friend answered.
"Bobby, I need your help."
"What's the matter?"
Dean told him the story of Sam's abduction and his arrest.
"You're lucky I'm passing through, or your ass would be sitting in that cell for a long time. I'll be there in a bit to bail you out."
"Thanks Bobby. See you in a bit." Dean hung up and turned to the officer. "I'm done, sweet cheeks. You gonna put me back in my cell now, or should I make a run for it?"
The officer grabbed him and put him back in. "Shut up before I shut you up myself, smart ass."
Dean smiled to himself as he sat down and waited for Bobby to post his bail.
Bobby showed up in two hours, and before he knew it, Dean was walking out of the police station with his comrade.
"Thanks for bailing me out, Bobby. Now we have to get back to finding Sam." Dean fished in his pocket for the keys to his car.
"What have you found so far?" Bobby asked.
Dean explained his con at the police station, and the report he read there.
"So the report said Elm and Parkwood?"
Dean nodded. "So now what?"
"If there was a camera at that light, we should be able to get pictures from the DOT."
"I'm on it," said Dean, walking toward the Impala, which Bobby had brought around from the impound lot.
"Not so fast. I'm going with you this time. No screw-ups."
Dean consented and the they climbed into their respective vehicles. Dean followed Bobby to the Department of Transportation, and they pulled the FBI con again to get access to the tapes. Lucky for them, there was not only a camera taking pictures, but there was also video of that intersection, as it was a dangerous one. Dean looked through the photographs as Bobby reviewed the video.
"Dean," said Bobby a few minutes after they started. "I found the timestamp. There's the car," he said, pointing to Dean's Impala, stopped at the intersection. Sam was tapping the steering wheel. Bobby and Dean both gaped when they saw something appear out of thin air. A demon.
"Stop the tape," Bobby told the tech guy helping them out. "Can you zoom in on that please?" The tech guy boxed out the Impala and zoomed in on Sam and the demon. Dean leaned forward to get a better look, and his eyes went wide when he saw the demon's face.
"I know who that is," he said. "Dude, can you give us a minute?" The tech guy nodded and left them alone in the room. "Bobby, that's Ezekiel. He was one of the first demons Sam and I sent back to hell. He must be out for revenge."
"If Ezekiel has your brother, we have to get to him fast, before that thing kills him. Now the question is, where is this demon holding your brother?"
"Well, we exorcised him in a warehouse, about 10 miles east of here. Let's start there." Dean instructed Bobby to follow him, and they set off toward the warehouse.
Dean couldn't stop thinking about Sam as he drove to the warehouse. What had that son of a bitch done to his brother? The demon was obviously using Sam to get to him. All he knew was that he'd be ready to shoot the damn thing in the head, if it meant saving his brother's life and getting rid of Ezekiel for good.
Bobby met him by the front doors of the warehouse, and holding their weapons, the men went inside to look for Sam. Dean pointed his gun out in front of him, ready to shoot, as he glanced around the crates, shelves and boxes.
"Sam!" he hollered, his voice echoing throughout the floor he was on. Relief washed over him when he heard a faint voice calling his name. "Sammy where are you!" he yelled again. He followed his brother's voice to a staircase leading downstairs. He kept shouting his brother's name as he got closer and closer, and finally stopped when he came to a large metal crate that was usually used on a boatyard. Dean wondered what it was doing here. "Sam!" he shouted.
"Dean! Dean in here! Help!" Dean pulled hard on the door, but a big metal padlock prevented him from opening it. He quickly took out his lock-pick kit and set to work. the lock was a piece of cake, and he shoved the door open. There, lying on the ground in a heap, chained to the wall, was Sam.
"Sam!" Dean rushed to his brother's side. "Are you OK?" Dean asked, starting to work on Sam's shackles.
"Do I look okay? I've been tortured by a demon for the past 24 hours. I need a hospital, Dean." Dean smiled, just glad to hear his brother's voice again.
"Let's get you out of here," he said, and began to help Sam up. As he draped Sam's arm around his shoulder, he felt a stinging pain in his back, and the both of them fell to the ground. Dean turned around to come face to face with Ezekiel.
"Dean...I wondered when you might join us. Sammy and I have been having loads of fun. Wouldn't want you to miss out." With that he held his hand out, and Dean's body flew back into the wall, pinning him there. Sam's body went the other way, and he was pinned as well. "After I get done killing Sam, you're going to die just like him. Nice and slow."
"No! You son of a bitch!" Dean struggled against Ezekiel's hold, but to no avail. The demon looked at Sam and twisted his hand. Sam felt his entire body start twisting, and he screamed in pain. It felt as if someone were trying to make him combust. As Dean screamed for his brother's life, a shot rang out inside the crate, and Ezekiel's eyes flickered, and the body he was inhabiting fell to the ground. The boys instantly dropped back to the ground, free of the dead demon's hold.
"Let's get him to a hospital," Bobby said immediately, putting the Colt back in his coat. With Dean helping, they managed to get Sam to the Impala, and Dean drove like a maniac to the nearest hospital. Normally they took care of injuries on their own, but Sam was injured beyond Dean's help.
Dean slouched in his chair in the waiting room while his brother was in the ER being attended to. The doctor came out shortly. Dean stood up to greet him.
"Is he going to be all right? What's going on with my brother?"
"Sam will be just fine," the doctor said. "We popped back his shoulder and his knee, and treated his second-degree burns. Other than that, your brother is pretty lucky. No one comes out of a gang beating quite the way they were before."
Dean breathed a sigh of relief and went in to see his brother. "How ya feelin, Sammy?" he asked.
"I'll be okay. Did you bring my laptop?"
"Right here," he said, setting the case on Sam's bed.
"Thanks. For everything. For saving me."
"You're my brother. You'd do the same for me."
"So which demon was that, Dean?" Sam asked.
"Ezekiel. You helped me send him to hell a while back, remember?"
Sam thought back for a second. He and Dean had been hunting since they were teenagers. He was 14 when he exorcised his first demon.
"I remember. He was the first demon I ever exorcised in Latin. I was 14."
"Well from here on out, we go to bars together. If some demon bent on revenge is going to kidnap anyone, I'll put a bullet in his ass."
Sam agreed, and the brothers sat together, chattingly lightly about anything but work. They'd had enough of that for one day.