Title: Lost in a Storm
Characters: Sam and Dean
Details: The brothers are not my creation. I am borrowing only.
"Dean!" Sam screamed into the dark, huddled in the corner of the small, windowless basement. He so desperately willing something in him to happen. He needed something, anything to snap into place and he could free himself. But like all the days and nights before, nothing happened. He clutched his torn clothes to himself more for comfort than for warmth, he had found the warmest spot, the corner to the left of the door, shaking in pain. Sam cringed when he heard a banging on the door.
"Shut the fuck up!"
Sam had been held in this cold, damp basement for what felt like years. Since he could not see daylight and the men did not seem to come at regular intervals, he had no way of calculating the passage of time. He usually had a good circadian rhythm, but the men had beat it out of him. Most of the time he was kept in the dark. The only source of light was a bare bulb that barely cast enough light to reach the walls.
Sam had gone out for coffee at about five am, because he could not sleep. He had lain in bed for about three hours after he had woke up from a nightmare; no visions, just a run of the mill nightmare. He was glad he did not wake his older brother, Dean needed his sleep. The poltergeist they dealt with the night before had done a number on Dean before Sam could vanquish it. Refusing a doctor, Dean relented to the idea of another night at the hotel. So Sam left him sleeping somewhat peacefully in their room for caffeine.
All was fine even when his attention was drawn by three men in the back of the diner that was across the road from the motel. At first they were very interested in him, but then they got wrapped up in their conversation, he shrugged it off and gave them no further notice. He was unprepared when, back at the motel, a van pulled up behind him and he was drug inside.
Sam could have taken them if not for the fact that chloroform was used to knock him out. Very old school and dangerous if not used in the right proportions. When he woke, with a splitting headache, he was tied up and under a cover of some sort still being transported somewhere. The rocking of the van and the drug had him in and out for what seemed like hours. At last they ended up at some type of farm, at least that is what he thought glimpsed through is drug induced haze.
The next thing he knew he tied to a chair in the room he was in now and was there were three men questioning him. They wanted to know who he was and what he could do. Sam refused to cooperate which caused the men to use more brutal ways of persuasion which caused Sam to clam up more. What he gathered during his time with them was that they had heard of a group of people that had powers and they wanted those powers for their own ends.
Days passed and only a single opportunity presented itself for Sam to break free. He almost got away after about a week, but by that time he was suffering injuries that slowed down his reflexes. Sam was subdued quickly and treated to a round of beatings that left him gasping for air and begging for them to stop. Several times he was beaten until he was unconscious.
Through it all he never gave them any information except insults and a name, Dean. That came about on the tenth night, after a severe beating Sam was lying where the men had dropped him an hour before. On his back staring at the ceiling Sam called out for his brother.
"Dean, help me," Sam whispered into the dimness. A single, bare, incandescent bulb burned overhead. A the ghost image appeared before his half swollen eyes.
'Look what you have gotten yourself into. You know little brother, you have to stop doing this. Dad's going to be furious.'
"But Dean I can't stop them. I can't get away," the tears in his eyes crept into his voice.
'Sam, you are too frail, can't take a couple of punches.'
Sam could see that condescending smirk on his big brother's face and he knew what he said was true.
'Why should I help you?'
"Because you are my brother, Dean. I'm sorry I am not strong like you ... please, you've got to help me. I haven't told them anything, I promise," Sam blinked away the tears, Dean's image wavered and softened.
'I know you wouldn't. Why do you doubt me? I am always going to save you. That is what I do.'
"Thanks Dean. Please hurry," Sam smiled despite his fear.
'Be strong little brother. You know all you have to do is call and I will come.'
The shadow of Dean's smirk melted into a warm smile that brightened his whole face then he faded into the dimness.
So Sam would call out for his brother whenever he needed strength, knowing that Dean could help. At first it was just a thought, conjuring up his brother's image, but before long Sam was screaming for Dean over and over again. He would not say anything else, wanting desperately for this all to end. Hoping that his resolve and will would hold out until Dean came and saved him. This just made the men angrier.
On this day or night, Sam gave up trying to decide, he woke to a load noise. Startled, he got up and staggered to the door. Listening intently he heard the howl of the wind and what he thought was a train. 'oh no!' Sam's mind raced, 'tornado!' He nearly lept to his corner, covering his head with his arms.
Wind raged, Sam could barely make out the shouts then BOOM! A loud crash followed by the sound of groaning metal and splitting wood. Something hit the door, causing him to jump but he did not move.
"Dean!" Sam wailed into the tormented structure's death throws.
"Dean..." came out almost as a prayer before the building collapsed on him.