The No How of Sam Winchester
Sam was asleep when it started. Dreaming, actually.
Jessica stood in front of him, smiling.
"Tell Him yes, Sam," She said sweetly. "Please. It will be so much easier for you now than it will be later." He shook his head.
"No," He said. "Jessica, you don't understand. I can't. I won't. Do you know what it'll do to everyone if I do?"
"Say yes." He missed her voice so much. Just the sight of her was enough to drive him crazy. But her features were slowly becoming distorted. Demonic.
He shook his head again.
"No. You're not Jessica. I won't say yes to you." He said firmly.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Sam," A voice said behind him. He spun around, unsurprised to see Lucifer there. "But not as sorry as you'll be." He disappeared. Sam turned back around, looking for Jessica, but she was gone. Ruby had taken her place.
"Hey there, Sam," She grinned. She had her pocket knife open in her hand. Still smiling, her black eyes gleaming, she cut her wrist. "Wanna drink?"
Sam could smell it. His heart pounded, eyes dilating. She was coming toward him, bringing it closer.
"No, get away," He said, backing up. "Stay away from me."
"But Sam," She whined. "We had so much fun together. And look at you. Weak, helpless, sloppy. I can make you strong again. I can make it so you can help people again. You won't have to follow Dean around like some pathetic puppy. You can get rid of him, just like you want to. Remember when you choked him? Hm? How that felt, knowing that for once you were in control and not him. That he had to listen to you now? Or how about that great feeling of his life slowly draining out of him right under your hands? Felt good, didn't it?" Sam felt his stomach clench and his heart twist at the memory. He knew what that had done to Dean. And he knew how personal choking someone could be. He wondered if Dean was even over that.
He was backed against the wall, his face turned away from her.
"No. No, I won't. I don't want to hurt my brother. I'll never hurt him again." He spat. She held up her bleeding wrist close to his face. He wanted it. God, did he want it. But he would not drink it. He had sworn to himself. He had promised himself. And Dean. He'd promised Dean.
"You know you want it. Take it. I'm giving it to you because I care." He looked down at her, incredulous.
"You care? You used me. You don't give a damn about me. You just wanted to get Lucifer out. You made me a weapon. You don't care about me, and I hate you!" He said through gritted teeth. She smiled at him. Suddenly he was plastered to the wall, unable to move.
"It doesn't matter, Sammy," She forced her lips on his, making him grunt and try and turn away. "I'll make you drink." She grabbed his jaw hard, nails biting into his skin.
Sam fought her, keeping his mouth shut tight and remembering that the human jaw can apply 3,000 pounds of pressure.
He woke up. He was relieved for a moment, until he understood that the pain in his face hadn't gone away. Dean was leaning over him, lightly shaking his shoulder as if he were just trying to wake him up. He stopped when he saw Sam's eyes were open.
"Sammy, what's going on? You alright?" He asked, obviously concerned and worried
"I, I don't know," He said, feeling small drops of blood trickle down his face.
"You kept sayin' 'no'." Dean said quietly. Sam quickly told him what had happened in his dream.
"Your face is all beat up and you're bleeding. I don't think it was a dream. Dream Root maybe but-"
"It's not Dream Root," Castiel said, appearing suddenly beside Dean. "It's much worse."
"What?" Dean asked, still getting over the angel's sudden appearance.
"Lucifer is in Sam's mind. And there are many ways of torment that he knows. He has access to Sam's memories and thoughts. He knows exactly how to hurt him. He knows what will do the most damage. And he will do whatever it takes for Sam to give in." He said grimly.
"What can he do to me?" Sam asked, voice shaky.
"Anything he wants. He wants his vessel, Sam. And he will do whatever it takes to get you to say yes." Castiel stated.
"Cas, do something," Dean said, sounding desperate. "Anything." Castiel bowed his head.
"I want to, please understand that, Dean, but I am powerless. If I were still connected to Heaven I might be able to help. But I can do nothing," He said quietly. "I'm sorry." Dean stood, looking irate and upset.
"Go find a way. Find a way to stop this, please! Get him out of Sam's head before he hurts him!" There was an edge in Dean's voice. He was begging.
Castiel nodded. "I'll see what I can do." And with a soft flutter he was gone.
Dean turned back to his brother, who looked equally afraid.
"What am I gonna do?" Sam asked. He looked so scared, and Dean hated that he could do nothing to make it better this time.
"Stay awake," Dean said. "Maybe he can't get you if you're awake."
"It doesn't matter," The voice was in Sam's head. "I can get you anywhere."
"Dean!" Sam's eyes were open, but he didn't see the motel room. The dirty carpet, the dingy curtains, the itchy bedspreads and Dean's frantic face melted away to a pitch black place. Ice cold, empty, endless. He was on his knees in this place, lost and alone.
"Tell me yes, Sam," Satan's voice echoed around him, shaking everything. He covered his ears, which were bleeding from the force of the sound. "It will be painless if you say yes right now."
"No! Sam yelled. "I won't give in to you! You son of a bitch!"
"I'm sorry to hear you say that. I really am."
Sam started to scream. His insides were on fire. He fell over, body jerking in spasms that were out of his control. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, sweating. "STOP! STOP IT! PLEASE!" He begged. Lucifer laughed.
The pain intensified. Sam didn't think that was even possible. Tears fell easily from his eyes. No sobs would come, he didn't have the strength or the option to actually cry. But he could scream.
"DEEEAAAANNN!" He screamed, begged. "HELP ME! PLEASE, DEAN, HELP ME!"
"It's okay, Sammy!" Dean assured, holding his hysterical brother. "What are you seein', huh?" He didn't know what to do. Sam's eyes were open but they were glazed and looked at nothing. He was screaming so harshly his voice was cracking, clutching his stomach, blood tricking from his ears and tears falling from his eyes.
"Shh, Sammy, look at me! It's not real! What you're seeing is not real! Look at me, Sammy, please!"
"DEEEAANN!" He shrieked.
"I'm here, I'm right here, Sammy, I'm right here. Shh…Just wake up, please, wake up." He pleaded. Sam's face was red and wet, tears and blood on his cheeks. His veins stuck out in his neck and arms, voice growing hoarse from screaming. Dean had his arms clasped tightly around him, trying to keep him from hurting himself, if at all possible.
"Shhh, it's okay, Sammy, it's okay. Wake up. Please, God, Sam, wake up!"
"D-Dean?" Sam said, hearing his brother's voice in the black place.
"I'm here, Sammy, wake up…please." Colors came through the black. The motel room unfolded in front of him, leaving the dark-cold place behind him, but the pain stayed.
Dean was holding him so tight it almost hurt, looking tired and sick with worry.
"Sammy? Sammy can you hear me?"
Sam nodded as his relief was overcome by harsh pain. He groaned aloud and gripped his stomach. His insides bubbled and burned, squirming in agonizing knots. He gave a dry sob, too tired to scream any longer.
"It hurts," He whispered through tears. "It hurts so bad, Dean."
"What hurts, Sammy; what's wrong?" Dean asked frantically.
"Inside me…burns, so bad, Dean," He was crying again. "Please, help me, Dean. Please…" Dean wanted to help his little brother more than anything in the world. But he couldn't. He couldn't because he didn't know how.
"It's gonna be okay, Sammy. You're gonna be alright. It'll stop, okay? It'll stop. Shh…" He soothed. It did stop. Minutes before sun up. Sam collapsed in relief, crying against his brother.
"It's okay, Sam, it's over now." Sam looked up at him, eyes swollen with tears, blood-shot and tired.
"You should go back to sleep, Sammy," Dean said. "You need to sleep." Sam shook his head, giving Dean those puppy eyes that hurt his heart.
"He can get me if I sleep," He choked. "He can hurt me, Dean. Don't let him hurt me, please!"
"Hey, hey, hey, easy," Dean said gently. "It's okay, Sammy. He won't hurt you, okay? You'll be alright." He doubted Sam would believe it. He didn't believe it himself, but it was the only comfort he could give.
Sam fought against his body's exhaustion for as long as he could. His eyes finally fell and they were too heavy to lift again.
He slept soundly, for awhile.
He was in a room made of stone this time. His wrists were clasped in tight manacles above his head. His torso was bare, exposed to the chilled air around him.
He stepped out of the shadows, torchlight flickering eerily off of his features, a thick, black leather rope in his hand.
"Tell me yes, Sam. Say yes. It'll be so much easier for you and your brother if you say yes right now," The Devil said calmly, stepping closer to him. He looked at Sam almost as if he pitied him. "Sam, please, I don't want to hurt you."
"Then don't," Sam grunted, tugging at the chains above his head. "Let me go."
"Say yes." Satan said simply.
"No." Sam shook his head. Lucifer sighed.
"Have it your way, then." He stepped behind Sam.
A warning snap rang through the room before Sam's back ruptured in agony.
One slice after another bit into his tender flesh. His back was ripped to shreds, the tips of the bullwhip catching his neck and cheeks.
Lucifer did not stop with his back. He came around to face Sam.
Sam's throat ached from even more shrieks that had torn from it. His back pulsed in time with his unsteady heart, beating an unsteady rhythm of anguish. He wanted Dean to wake him up again. Even if the pain continued he could endure with Dean there. But no such relief came.
"Last chance, Sam." Satan said firmly.
"No." He choked. Now he could see the whip coming at him, bloodied leather separating flesh from bone in places.
"DEEAA-AANN!" Sam bawled. "HELP ME!"
"Dean's not here, Sam," Lucifer said, his voice unusually gentle for someone hurting him so badly. "But I'll let you see him again. Only if you say yes."
Before Sam could fully shake his head the whip came at him in a horrible, blinding fury. When The Devil finally stopped Sam could barely move, his breath ragged and wet, sobs coming weakly but easily.
"Is this worth it, Sam? Is it worth this pain? Just say yes. Please, say yes. I really don't like hurting you like this."
The pain was so horrible Sam couldn't even see straight. He wanted this agony to end. He'd never endured something to this magnitude. Maybe he should…
"SAM!" The voice was distant, like an echo. "Sammy!"
"Dean?" Sam's voice was so quiet even Lucifer didn't hear it.
"Sammy? Sammy, can you hear me?" TH stone started to fade away, just as the darkness had before.
"NO!" Lucifer snarled.
Dean looked down at his little brother, who was drenched in blood, looking terrified. Dean's hand and arms were covered in it, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
Sam's violent writhing had floored them both. His shirt was soaked in sweat and blood. His face was caked in a layer of the thick red liquid and tears. So much blood…
His eyes stayed open through the whole ordeal, wide and scared. Dean had tried to tell him that it was okay. That he was there and it would be alright, but he couldn't hear him.
"Dean?" Sam whimpered.
"Shh…It's okay, Sammy. It's okay."
"It hurts. It hurts so bad." Dean swallowed.
"It's okay, Sam. It's gonna be alright. I'm gonna make it stop, alright?" Sam's fingers were clenching Dean's arm so tight his knuckles were stark white.
He sobbed between gasps for air, trying to get past the agony that wracked his body.
"Sammy, I'm gonna get you cleaned up, okay? I'll make it go away, Sammy. I'll make it better." Dean whispered. He picked up Sam as carefully as he could.
Regardless, Sam whimpered in pain. Dean got Sam into the bathroom, both of them on her knees. Sam's head fell into the crook of Dean's neck, soft cries now muffled.
Dean gently peeled Sam's shirt from his red stained torso. Tears filled his eyes when he saw the deep wounds decorating his little brother's body. He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to vomit, a single tear trekking its way down his cheek.
"It's okay, Sammy. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna be just fine. It's not even that bad." He assured. He turned on the shower behind him and got the rest of Sam's clothes off. He was even more careful now that he could see the extent of the wounds on Sam's bare body. He gently lifted his little brother into the tub and under the warm water. Sam sobbed once when the water first touched his raw skin. He hugged Dean, trying to get away from it.
"Hey, easy, Sammy, easy. I know, I know. Shh, I've gotta get this blood off of you alright? I know it doesn't feel too good, Sam. It's okay, it'll be over soon. Shh…" Dean leaned forward, getting Sam's upper half into the water, soaking his own arms. As a reaction Sam hugged Dean tighter, burying his face in his shirt.
"Shh, it's okay, Sammy. It's okay. I've got you. Shh…" He gently coaxed Sam's face up into the water. As the blood cleared Dean saw the wounds decorating Sam's face and neck.
"God, Sammy, what did he do to you?" He asked softly.
"He wh-whipped me." Sam whispered, as if he were afraid to say it too loudly. Dean felt a strange twinge of pain and hate. Pain for his brother's suffering and hate for the son of a bitch that had touched him.
Dean squeezed Sam closer out of reflex. He shut off the water and quickly toweled Sam off. He got him back on the bed, first aid kit out and open. He stitched up Sam's wounds and gave him some Tylenol to dull some of his pain.
Sam lied there once Dean had lowered his head back down onto the pillow. He stared at nothing, eyes bloodshot and swollen. Dean brushed his bangs from his eyes, just like he had since he was little.
"What am I g-gonna do, Dean?" Sam asked softly. "I c-can't sleep. He'll g-get me if I-I do. B-but he can get me when I'm a-awake too."
"I'll stay with you, Sammy. I'll find a way to help you. I promise." Dean assured, grabbing Sam's hand. "It'll be okay, Sam. It'll be alright."
--More soon! Please review. Poor Sam...--