I don't own these characters. I'm just using them for fun.
If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back.
The words echoed through Sam Winchester's head like a bell. He hadn't wanted to leave like this. He hadn't wanted to alienate his family. What choice did he have? He wanted a different life. He wanted a normal life. He wanted to go to school. He wanted to see what was good in the world. Lord knows, he'd seen plenty of what was bad.
Sam was given the chance of a lifetime. He'd been offered a full ride to Stanford. How could he pass that up? And how could his father resent him so much for not wanting to pass it up? His father made his position clear the moment Sam had shown him the golden ticket he'd received. The ticket came in the form of a letter from Stanford informing him of his scholarship award. His father looked at the letter, but didn't cast a glance in Sam's direction before simply saying, "No."
Sam had been crushed, but he wasn't surprised. He had expected such a response from his father, but part of him held onto the hope that his father would be happy for him. Somewhere in his mind he held onto the hope that his father would pat him on the back and tell him how proud he was. Nevertheless, he had prepared himself for the response he had expected rather than the response he had hoped for. He had bought his bus pass ahead of time and packed what few belongings he had.
Sam wiped away the morning dew from the dirty window of the bus and watched the landscape rush by outside. Tears stung his eyes as he thought about the horrible words he'd exchanged with his father the night before. He wished he could take some of it back. The look on his father's face was both infuriating and heartbreaking. After all the years of fighting with his father over the life he'd forced them to lead, it finally dawned on Sam that his father would never understand and would never change his mind. He'd never felt so alone.
Then there was Dean. His brother had been sitting there, listening to the argument with a frightened and hurt expression, but he never said a word. Sam didn't want to hurt his brother. Contrary to what one might think, given the awful things he'd said, he really hadn't wanted to hurt his father either.
"I'm going. I'm eighteen. You can't stop me." Sam had never felt so afraid in his life. He'd battled demons and angry spirits alongside his father and his brother, but somehow, waiting for his father's next words frightened him more than anything he'd ever faced.
"If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back." His father's words had been like a punch in the gut. Sam was suddenly very alone. His father had asked him to choose between his family and his future, and the choice he made left him more alone than he could have ever thought possible.
The look on Dean's face as Sam had turned to leave haunted Sam.
"Sam, wait…" It was all Dean had said. Sam looked at his brother and fought with everything he had not to break down into tears. He couldn't speak. Not without losing the battle against his emotions. He walked out the door and didn't look back.
Dean caught the bartender's eye and raised his empty beer bottle, "Another, please."
The beer wasn't doing its job tonight. Dean had come to the bar with the intention of drinking himself into temporary amnesia, but it wasn't working. The image of his brother walking out the door was etched in his memory, and it wasn't going anywhere.
The house had been silent after the door slammed shut. His father sat down at the table and stared at the wall. Dean knew enough not to say anything. He couldn't be there. His father wasn't going to be in the talking mood for a long time, and he didn't want to sit in awkward silence. So here he was, hours later, trying without success to drown his memory.
Dean had been shocked when he saw Sam come down the stairs of the old abandoned home they'd been squatting in. He had his duffel packed, and he looked like he was ready to hit the road.
"You going somewhere, Sammy?"
Sam had only responded to Dean's question with a cursory glance before he approached his father and placed a letter in front of him. Dad didn't act surprised or upset. He was calm. Scary calm. It was almost a whisper. Dean almost didn't hear it.
That one word set off an explosion. The tension in the room rose to a level Dean couldn't have cut through with a machete. His curiosity had gotten the best of him and he reached for the letter himself. An award letter. Full scholarship to Stanford. Dean's heart sank. Sam was leaving them. He knew his father wouldn't give him his blessing. He also knew Sam wouldn't let that keep him from going.
Dean had always been afraid that this would happen. Sam had fought their father tooth-and-nail over everything under the sun since the day he learned to speak. He knew it was only a matter of time before Sam's desire to lead a normal life took him away from them.
John Winchester was not a bad man, but Sam didn't see it that way. Sam saw their father as the man who never gave them a normal life. He saw their father as the man who would stand in the way of his dreams. He didn't see what Dean saw. He didn't see the agony their father endured every day of his life. Sam had only been a baby the night their mother was murdered. Sam didn't know their father before that day. Sam didn't know how that night changed their father. Dean had seen it all. He understood in a way that Sam would never be able to.
Dean had tried with every fiber of his being to keep the awful truths of their childhood from Sam. When their father shut off, Dean tried to pick up the slack. He tried to be a presence in Sam's life where the presence of both their parents was missing. He had tried his best, but it wasn't enough. Sam needed more. He needed normalcy. Part of Dean couldn't blame his little brother for wanting something more. A larger part of him resented Sam for wanting so badly to abandon the family that Dean was fighting so hard to save.
"Want another, honey?" The voice of the bartender snapped Dean out of his stupor. Dean plastered a smile on his face.
"No thanks, sweetheart. I've had enough."
Dean looked at the empty bottle in his hand. He knew his father well enough to know that this night would never again be discussed. Leave it behind, Dean. Sam's gone. Back to business as usual…. there's evil out there waiting to be killed. Dean left the bar and vowed never to think of this night again.
Sam half awoke to the sound of the bus doors opening and people getting out of their seats. The sound of the bus driver's voice bellowing over the crowd brought him fully awake.
"Rest stop. Back on the road in 10."
He looked through the window at the tiny gas station where they'd stopped. Judging by the number of people crowding into the station from the bus, there would be a line for the bathroom. Sam thought of waiting for the next rest stop, but the pressure on his bladder quickly changed his mind.
He stood and stretched. He wasn't sure how long he'd been traveling, but his muscles ached from sleeping in an awkward position. He exited the bus and looked around. The gas station was a pit in the middle of the big Nevada desert. Sam looked through the dusty gas station window and confirmed his guess. There was a line for the bathroom.
He made his way around the back of the gas station, out of sight from the rest of the passengers. He found a bush and proceeded to empty his bladder. The desert was beautiful. The sun was setting and it cast a yellow glow across the horizon. Sam inhaled deeply. He had almost succeeded in forgetting the night before.
What am I doing? Sam was scared. He'd never been alone. He'd never felt so unsure about the future. Had he made a mistake? His father and Dean were all that he had in this world, and he'd just vanquished them from his life. His stomach roiled in fear.
As he turned to walk back to the bus, he suddenly got an eerie sensation that he was being watched. He turned around, but saw no one there. Sam flushed as he realized he was letting himself get scared of the boogie man now that his big brother and his father were no longer there to protect him. Just as he was about to laugh at that, he felt an incredible pain at the back of his head, and the lights went out.
As Sam drifted toward consciousness, he became aware of a few things. First, his head was killing him. Second, he couldn't seem to move his limbs, and third, he was blind. The third was the most disturbing. He blinked several times, but there was only blackness. It felt like his eyes were still closed. He blinked several more times but still wasn't able to see anything. He attempted to lift his arm so that he could rub his eyes, but his arms were being held down by something. He realized they were tied down. He seemed to be sitting in a chair, and from what he could feel, his hands were tied to the arms. His legs were also immobile and seemed to be tied to the chair's legs. Panic started to creep its way through the fog of his brain.
Frustrated at his lack of ability to move or see, he decided to try his voice.
"Hello?" His voice, although a mere raspy whisper, seemed to still be intact. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hello?"
His calls were met by an unnerving silence. He tried to remember everything that had led him to this point. He was at the gas station. He'd taken a leak. Then pain. Then nothing.
Sam had been in his fair share of sticky situations before. It came with the territory given the nature of work his family was involved in. In the past, however, his father and his brother had always been close by when a sticky situation arose. No matter what happened, Sam knew his father and his brother would come through for him. But this time they weren't close by. This time they didn't know where he was.
For the first time in his life, Sam was truly afraid.
A new sound quickly grabbed Sam's attention. It was the sound of a lock being unlocked, followed by the sound of a door opening. A thin sliver of light suddenly appeared on the floor, framing a doorway directly in front of him. Sam's relief at the sight was immeasurable. He wasn't blind. His relief was short-lived when the door in front of him opened, and the room was flooded with blinding light. He closed his eyes against the offensive, blinding brightness. The ache in his head suddenly became much more pronounced.
"Sammyboy. Great to see you're finally awake!" the voice addressing him belonged to a woman. The voice was anything but friendly. Sam could hear mocking and menace behind the words.
He slowly opened his eyes and squinted up at the woman standing in front of him. She was tall with long, straight black hair. Her skin was pale. She wore clothing that hugged her body tightly. Too tightly. The most distinguishing feature about her, however, were her eyes. They were black.
"You're a demon," Sam whispered. He immediately felt stupid for blurting out such a dumb comment. He hadn't meant to say it out loud. He had only seen a few demons in his time. His father usually tried to keep him and Dean away from the hunts that involved demons.
The demon raised an eyebrow. "They say you're the smart one in the family," she said sarcastically. "Wow."
Sam felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. "What do you want with me?"
She smiled at Sam in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "We just want to have some fun, Sammy."
Sam felt his stomach knot. He was terrified. The fact that the demon had said "we" hadn't escaped his attention. She continued to smile at him as two more figures emerged from behind her. It was two men. Both were large, and both had black, soulless eyes that matched those of the demon in front of him.
"If you know me, then you know my dad and my brother will be looking for me," Sam tried to keep his voice strong, but he could hear it quivering.
"Oh, Sam, don't lie. It's not nice," the lady demon said slowly. It was almost a purr. "We know daddy dearest and big brother think you're on your way to school. We've been waiting for a chance like this."
Without warning, one of the men swung a fist at Sam's face. The power of the blow snapped Sam's head backward, and he hit his head on the back of the chair. The double-blow left him dazed. Just as quickly, the other man began to untie Sam's legs from the chair. After his legs were freed, he untied Sam's arms.
"Get up," the woman demanded. Sam stood uneasily. His head was still swimming from the blow, and his legs were uneasy after sitting for so long. After he stood, one of the men grabbed the chair and took it out of the room.
The woman smiled at Sam again, and raised a hand in his direction. He was suddenly thrown across the small room. When he hit the wall, it felt like every bone in his body shattered. He bounced off the wall and landed on the floor. As soon as he landed, he was picked up again by an invisible force and thrown against another one of the four walls of the small room. When he hit the ground again, he heard a cackle of laughter erupt from the woman.
"Oh we are going to have so much fun, Sammyboy!" she laughed.
Sam struggled to lift himself off the ground, but found the effort was a waste as he was again picked up and thrown against a wall. This time, instead of falling to the floor, the invisible force held him against the wall. Sam had ridden the Gravitron at a county fair when he was little. It was a ride that spun so fast that gravity pinned you against the wall and made it hard to move. Being pinned to the wall by this invisible force felt almost exactly the same. His limbs wouldn't cooperate and he felt an enormous weight against his chest.
The female demon walked toward him menacingly. She stared him straight in the face.
"What do you want with me," Sam managed to ask between his labored breaths.
"We want to kill you," the woman said angrily. "But we can't. We aren't allowed. You belong to Azazel. He told us not to kill you, but he never told us we couldn't have any fun with you."
Sam thought briefly that the woman was off her rocker. He had no idea what she was talking about. "I think you have the wrong guy," Sam said stiffly.
Amusement crossed the woman's face, and her shoulders started to shake. She suddenly burst out laughing.
"Oh my, that is classic," she said, wiping a tear of laughter away from her eye. She turned to look at her comrades. "He thinks we have the wrong guy."
She turned back to Sam and held out her arm again. Her face suddenly became hard and angry as she mimicked a chocking gesture with her hand. Sam suddenly felt an enormous pressure on his neck and he couldn't breathe.
"We've definitely got the right guy, Sam Winchester," she said vehemently. "You might not know it yet, but you've been chosen for something big. Something much bigger than any human should be chosen for."
She released her hold on Sam, and he fell bonelessly to the floor. As he gasped for breath, the two men approached him and started kicking at his stomach, his legs, his chest, and his head. Sam tried without success to deflect the blows. He became resigned to the fact that they were intent on hurting him and he could do nothing about it.
Just as suddenly as it had started, the kicking stopped. Sam looked up to see the woman approaching. She carried something in her hands, and Sam felt bile rise in the back of his throat. He knew what it was. He'd seen one used as a torture device in a movie. It was a cattle prod.