Chapter Text
Sam watched in silence as his kidnapper looked down in a mixture of disbelief and outrage at his cell phone. Sighing tightly, the hunter let his head hang for a long moment before lifting it.
“He isn’t coming, is he?” Sam asked, voice controlled yet edged with pain.
The man looked up from the phone at Sam in amazement.
“Damn, I knew Winchester was a evil bastard but I sure as hell didn’t see that one coming.” He shook his head slowly. “I thought he was just bluffing for a second there when he said you were on your own, but the cold bastard actually hung up on me before I could give him an address or anything.”
Each word was like a bullet to the heart, making Sam feel like his chest was about to crack open.
“Yea, well.” Sam laughed hoarsely. “Sorry man, but you chose the absolute worst time to try and hold me for ransom.”
“Apparently.” The kidnapper agreed darkly.
Sam stared up at the man tiredly through the sweat-coated bangs that hung in his face. “So, where do we go from here?”
The man’s expression was unreadable for a long moment, before shaking his head again in denial.
“No way I’m letting you go. I don’t believe for one second that Winchester won’t come to save his infamously precious little brother. He just needs a little extra motivation is all.” Cole muttered lowly, and he didn’t like the sound of that one bit.
Sam wasn’t stupid enough to think that he was going to be able to talk this psycho out of beating the crap out of him though. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he felt his heart skip a couple beats as the man strode confidently over to him before opening them and plastering a blank expression across his face.
“Who the hell are you and why are you doing this? What could my brother have done to you that’s so bad you’re willing to hurt a man who has never done anything to you?” Sam demanded angrily.
The stranger stopped right in front of him, staring quietly down at him and for a second Sam saw just the barest hint of regret in the man’s eyes, but it was squashed before he could be sure.
“The name’s Cole. Look Sam, this isn’t anything personal against you. Me and your brother go way back, and he really fucked me and my family over.” His hand tightened audibly around the hilt of his blade. “I’ve never been one to hold grudges, but what he did… there is no forgiveness for that. Only revenge.”
“Please, we can talk about-“ Sam started with a hint of desperation, and grunted when Cole shoved a cloth gag into his mouth.
“Sorry about this Sam, but I don’t have any other choices. I need to get Dean here and you’re my best chance of doing that.” Cole said quietly before raising the large hunting knife.
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“GOD DAMMIT!” Dean roared into the silence of the Impala as it rumbled steadily down the deserted highway.
It’s just like Sam to get kidnapped by some psycho when Dean was on vacation! Were a couple months of carefree freedom too much to ask for? It was always something with his family!
Dean had almost squeezed hand-shaped dents into the steering wheel when he’d ended the phone call. His –albeit rusty- big brother instincts had been screaming at him throughout the entire phone call to take the kidnappers bait and demand for the address. The demon in him had fought back, insisting that he ignore the phone call and leave Sam to figure out how to get himself out of the situation.
In the end, he’d decided to do a little of both. Unlike Sam’s cell, Dean’s phone had a program on it that instantly traced the location of whoever called him as long as they were on the line for more than 15 seconds. He’d set it up just to be safe for when Sam called him. That way he’d know how close the kid was to tracking him down.
Dean was only four hours away from where Sam was being held. He’d swung the Impala around and was already on his way to the location, hoping that his blasé reaction to the kidnappers call had bought him some time and would give him the element of surprise.
Dean’s phone chirped, alerting him that he’d received at text message.
Slamming on the breaks and screeching to a halt, the demon’s hand shot out instantly, grabbing it from the other seat next to him. He tapped “Okay” on the message and allowed his eyes to scan over the text.
I don’t like it when people hang up on me. You’re a man of your word, huh? Well so am I. You’ve got ten hours to get to the address below or I swear to God I’ll gut your brother like a fish. Think I’m bluffing? Check out the picture attachments. I hope to see you soon Winchester. For Sam’s sake. –C
Dean was shaking with rage by the end of the text. He knew that whatever was inside of those image files wasn’t going to be pretty, but he couldn’t stop himself from clicking on the first one.
He was right
Sam had been stripped down to his boxers and had long, deep looking gashes all over his chest, arms and legs. There was more blood visible on his skin than actual skin. Sam glared up hatefully at the man behind the camera, but his eyes were unfocused. Considering the strand of blood dangling from him gagged mouth, the guy had taken a fair amount of shots at Sam’s head too and the kid probably had a concussion.
His warily tapped the next picture.
Now Sam was covered in long, thick lash marks clearly dolled out by a whip. His head hung limply down towards his chest now, looking as helpless as Dean had ever seen him.
Violent fantasies of slicing open the gullet of whoever had done this and digging out their intestines with his bare hands flashed before Dean’s eyes. His bloody fantasies were interrupted when another text chimed from his phone. As much as he wanted to ignore it he couldn’t stop himself from picking up the phone and accepting the text.
Better hurry up Winchester. As fun as cutting and whipping your brother is, I’ve got other more… pleasurable ways of breaking his spirit. I’ll let you fill in the blanks of what I mean by that. –C
A deafening snarl of rage ripped from Dean’s throat when he read the message, his teeth instinctively baring themselves and inky black eyes shining with bloodlust.
If that son of a bitch laid one goddamned finger on his brother like that he’d tear every fucking protruding limb off of the bastard and force feed them to him!
Dean slammed on the Impala’s gas pedal, the sound of squealing rubber filling the other wise silent night as he sped in the direction of the address.
“I’m coming Sammy.” He growled out gutturally. The first blade glowed hotly against Dean’s hip in anticipation.
(TBC)