In His Court - Part 3 of 4

[smalltrolven]

Masterpost~*~*~Part 1~*~*~Part2

“Sam I really don’t think this is a good idea, who knows what he’ll do to you.  Bobby told me about how Crowley almost kept his soul, doesn’t seem like a straight shooter you know?” Jody’s voice sounds so urgent over the phone.

“I don’t have a choice Jody, I don’t have anything else to offer him, and I can’t make the Purgatory weapon without his blood.  Cas told me I have to hurry, that Dean was in real trouble, I can’t take any more time to think about this, it’s already going to be one more week as it is, with this deal.  I can’t leave him there any longer, I need him back here.”

He hears Jody sigh, and is almost ready to hang up, he’s not looking for her approval, he just wanted someone to know what he’s doing, finally she answers, sounding resigned, “Alright Sam, alright, I get it.  I’ll come pick up the car tomorrow.”

“Thanks Jody, for everything, I’ll never forget what you’ve done for us.”

“Sam cut it out, just be safe, and let me know when you’ve got Dean back, okay?  Good luck kid.”

Sam’s locking the door of the Impala and leaning up against the driver’s door, ready to hear what the first thing Crowley will ask of him.   That’s when Crowley appears of course, and snaps his fingers.  When Sam opens his eyes, he’s still leaning up against the Impala, but now they’re on a circular gravel driveway in front of a slightly decrepit mansion.

“Where are we?” Sam asks, a little dazed from the quick transport, but glad that the car is there to lean on.

“Still in Washington pet, not far from Spokane, but I thought you’d want to keep your car close instead of leaving it behind.  I know how attached your Dean is to the thing.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Sam’s not happy because now Jody will be worried since the car will be missing from where he’d told her to pick it up, and he doubts Crowley’s going to let him use his cellphone for the next week.

“Before we go in, I want to watch you make this Purgatory key.  Here’s my blood.” Crowley produces a blood-filled ornate glass vial with a flourish.

“Okay, uh, let me get the stuff out, hold on.” Sam rummages in the trunk of the Impala, furiously thinking as fast as he can, trying to figure out why the hell Crowley would insist on making the weapon now before the week starts.  He decides it’s probably to tease him with while he’s being held or whatever’s going to happen during his week of service that he’s trading to Crowley.  Sam combines the three bloods in the biggest container, swirls it around to mix it completely, then holding the bone over a wooden bowl, he pours the blood over the bone.  It soaks in immediately.

“There done.”  Sam says, wiping his hands off on a towel and throwing all the empty vials into the bowl.  He holds the bone up so Crowley can see it.

“That’s all there is to it? I’ve forgotten how simple the oldest spells are.”  Crowley holds his hand out to take the bone from Sam, “Let me put this away somewhere safe for you while you’re in my service.”

Sam reluctantly hands it over, but what choice does he really have.  There’s no escape from this deal and he knows it.  All he can do is survive whatever’s coming as well as he can.

They begin walking up the wide marble steps to the entrance of the mansion.  “So this is where my Court is currently, while I’m up here on Earth. You’ll be needing these.”  Crowley snaps his fingers and a leather collar; wrist and ankle cuffs are suddenly tightly bound on Sam.  Crowley holds the slim silver chain that’s attached to the collar.  “Let’s go inside shall we?”

“Really, is this stuff necessary Crowley?”

“Yes Sam, I’m sorry it is.  After all that business with your flighty angel friend and with Meg getting away from me, I’m in a position where I have something to prove.  And you my dear are going to help me with that.  Subduing a Winchester will mean something to this lot. As moronic as they are, displays of power are one of the few messages that they’ll receive loud and clear.”

“Is Meg challenging you to be ruler of Hell or something?”

“You don’t miss a trick do you? Yes, actually she is.  That’s part of this too.  I’ll admit I have some regret about this Sam, it’s not what you deserve, what’s coming this week for you, but I’m afraid it’s necessary for me to keep my position.”

As they walk through the doors of the moldering mansion, Sam hears a soundtrack of terribly cheesy music playing, something from the 70’s, maybe Neil Diamond.  The walls and floor of the hallway become less and less distinct as they walk towards an ornate door.  As they go through the doorway there’s an invisible barrier they push through which feels like a bath of sticky, pulling nasty Jell-o. “What the hell was that?” Sam asks after he passes through

“You’re in my Court now Sam, this is a place of Hell, but not in Hell, it’s wherever I need it to be.” Crowley leads him in by the chain attached to his neck.  Sam doesn’t resist, knowing there’s no point, this is what he signed up to do, and it will all be worth it when Dean is back. He’s just got to keep that in mind, this is all for Dean.

They’re in a large grand hall now, damp stone walls covered with expensive looking weavings and banners, a carved wooden throne is on a raised dais at one end, and an iron rack is affixed to the opposite wall.  The place is packed full of demons, lounging around on over-stuffed couches, all paying rapt attention to Crowley and his new prisoner.  Before he knows it, Sam is being secured on the rack with thick metal chains, by two burly demons.  A huge crowd of demons is standing around, their eyes gone blank and black with greed and anticipation

“I now present for your enjoyment, the famous demon-hunter and former vessel of Lucifer, son of John and brother of Dean, Samuel Winchester.”  Crowley announces formally from the dais, a cocky look of pride on his face.  The demons applaud wildly and surge forward towards Sam.

“You know the rules, just like Downstairs, anything you take off has to be replaced, anything you take apart has to be put back together, seniority rules for who goes first.” Crowley intones in a voice ringing with power and authority, he then turns away from the crowd and seats himself on his throne looking away from the commotion.

The demons grumble, because they don’t like rules anymore than humans do.  The oldest, most senior of demons approaches Sam as they all watch him with hungry black eyes, wishing they got to be first.  He produces a shining thin knife which he cuts all of Sam’s clothes off with, piece by piece falling to the floor.  Sam tries to hold still, knowing that if he says or does anything it will just make it that much worse, tries to find a place to hide in his mind from the abuse that he knows is coming.  But his mind is brought right back to the room when the demon begins cutting him lightly all over, just enough to really hurt.  Sam can’t help screaming with the pain of it, as the knife cuts deeper and deeper, his blood running down his naked body.  The crowd of demons presses closer and begins to cheer loudly with glee

Sam passes out eventually, and awakes some indeterminate time later, face-down, tied to a high bench by his arms and legs, head held tight off one end of the bench in a type of cage.  He realizes there’s no way to move, to get any leverage  as an endless parade of cocks to suck begin appearing, one after the other until Sam thinks he’s only imagining it.  He keeps telling himself that; this isn’t real, not really happening. Dean, Dean, it’s all for you. Then those cocks are in his ass too, one after the other, and he knows he’s getting ripped, can feel the blood running down his thighs, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it.  He just has to make it through.  It reminds him so much of what he went through in the Cage, but at least in there it was only Lucifer, Michael and Adam.  Here there’s no end to it.  There’s so many of them, female demons too, moving his position on the bench, mounting him and writhing sinuously just like Ruby had, making him want to vomit at the memory of her thick blood in his mouth.

Distantly, at a remove from himself, he realizes the demons are all trying to prove something to each other and Crowley, instead of just being full of rage at being trapped in Crowley’s service just like Sam is.  To protect himself Sam struggles to just remain separate from his body and go into his memories, thinking of Dean, only Dean

The Dean he loves and needs. 

Dean, the reason he’s doing this, who he’s doing it for.

t’s the only thing that gets him through, holding onto the thought of Dean beside him again where he needs to be

After a time, which has truly lost all meaning, everything stops for a while, Sam’s dimly aware that he’s strung up against the wall, on the rack this time.  He tries to retreat back into his memories where Dean is, where he can see them together in bed after motel bed; lighting fireworks; burning wendigos and changelings; digging up graves; driving down sun-drenched highways.  Always together, him and Dean, Dean and him, together through it all.  But out there in the real world, someone is trying to make him drink water.  His blood-crusted eyes crack open and he sees that Bela is the one holding the cup at his lips.  She flashes her black eyes at him, “Here Sam, drink this, it’ll help.”

Sam remembers the old fantasies he’d entertained about Bela back when they’d first met her, before she’d screwed them over and stolen The Colt.  Through the pain he sees that she’s actually helping him, giving him small bits of food and water.  He manages to speak in a completely ruined hoarse voice through his cracked and sore bleeding lips, “Thank you Bela, I always knew you were good somewhere deep down under all that wounded criminal façade crap.”

“Oh dear Sam, I’m not good. I don’t believe I ever was. Whatever gave you that silly idea? I’m just the one they picked to keep you alive until the next part.”

“Next part?”  Sam asks with dread.

“Yes pet, it’s time to see if you’re still at all the Boy King you were meant to be, let’s see if you’ve still got those powers you gave up on.  Be what we all know you could have been.” Crowley taunts from his throne.

Cup after cup of demon blood is forced down Sam’s throat until he feels full enough to burst.  All the demons line up to donate theirs, happy to feed it to him, loving the humiliation and disgust pouring off of Sam.

“No more, I can’t drink anymore, please enough.”  Sam can feel the old thirst for blood reawakening deep inside, something uncurling as if from hibernation.  The evil slithers through his system as the blood starts taking over.  He starts feeling the furnace of power stoking up in his belly that was always so hungry, but he’s so broken and tired that it’s more of an annoyance than something he can use.

“Come on Sam, let’s see those eyes.  Gone black yet?  No, well then one more cup might do it, try some of mine this time.” Crowley purrs.

Sam chokes it down, but his eyes still don’t turn, he won’t let them.  It’s taking the last bit of stubbornness he possesses to resist.  Crowley throws the cup down in disgust, “I’m tired of all this.  You’ve all had your fun and I’m bored.  Time to finish off this three-act play and call in the main attraction.  Bela bring me that bone would you darling?”

“What are you going to do?” Sam asks, voice thick with the thrum of the demon blood coating his throat.

“Thanks to all the excellent work of my minions, you spilled the details on how to use this thing, so I’m about to make a long distance call to an old friend of yours.  Ohhhh Deathhh, Come On Down!” Crowley roars.

ldquo;No, Crowley, not now.  You can’t bring him back now! I thought you were going to let me leave first!” Sam yells with the rest of his energy, horrified that Dean will see this, see him drinking demon blood again, not to mention naked and wrecked in this room of demons.

“Sorry dear, since you didn’t specify that I couldn’t try to bring Dean back during your week of service, you’ve left that up to me. Deal or no deal, it wasn’t in there, so no.  He comes back here and now, right when you’re at your very worst. We’ll see if he still wants anything to do with you now.” Crowley pronounces, triumphantly.

“No, ask me for anything else, don’t let him see this, you just can’t. Please, I’ll do anything.” Sam pleads, voice cracking as he thinks of how this will break Dean completely, more than anything else possible

“No Sam, I think your darling Dean needs to see this, don’t you?  How far you’ll go for him, just how much you’ve given?  Maybe he’ll finally appreciate you like he always should have.” Crowley taunts, his voice full of derisive glee.

“Crowley, please, don’t do this.  Think of all we’ve ever done for you.”Sam begs, he can’t let Dean see him like this, what he’s done to get him back, how far he’s sunk.

“What you two did for me? Oh please!” Crowley is much too pleased with how broken Sam is at the idea, since he’s hasn’t completely given up enough during all the torture and demon blood

He turns his back on Sam, still hung up on the rack at the back of the throne room begging hoarsely to please let him down before Dean comes back.  Sam’s sobs follow him across the room as he walks back towards his throne.  He places the Purgatory weapon on a table and sits back on his throne.  Crowley looks out over the crowd; they’re seething with excitement, just where he wants them.  All of Crowley’s Court is turned out and waiting to see the other famous hunter appear before them.  Great anticipation fills them all, spirits are high and the chatter is loud, Sam can hear them all speculating about how the Great and Mighty Dean Winchester has fallen so far, and won’t he be so pleased to see his little brother has finally joined him there

Sam closes his eyes and tries to ignore their taunts, to ignore it all, but Crowley notices and Sam’s eyes are opened forcefully and stuck that way by the invisible demon force Sam has come to loathe more than anything this past week.  “Only an hour left to go Sam, you’re not going to want to miss any of this pet. Pay attention.”

Death appears suddenly, and Sam flushes with shame that he’s naked and bloody and tied to the rack on the wall like some stuffed trophy.  Death raises one eyebrow in sardonic surprise and nods in Sam’s direction, but then he turns his attention to Crowley.  “Crowley, where is it?”

“What no hello? Too good for a little chitchat, eh, mate?”

“I have no interest in making small talk with one such as you.  Are we agreed that if I retrieve Dean Winchester, you’ll release both he and his Samuel without any further harm?”

“Yes we are agreed.” Crowley assents with a worried look towards the state that Sam is in after hearing Death’s pointed ‘his Samuel’

“Then I shall proceed.”  Death takes the bone weapon from the table next to Crowley’s throne, and intones a series of unintelligible phrases.  The space directly in front of Death where he’s pointing the bone begins to shimmer and a low hum starts up.

There’s a tortured sucking sound like a vacuum cleaner stuck in place but still running and then all the demons  in attendance burst into surprised laughter at the sight of Dean’s sudden appearance in the middle of the grand room. He’s crouched and beaten bloody and naked and completely out of it, a wild animal more than a person, cowering, terrified, unable to rise from the floor from the sheer terror of all the eyes looking at him, the cruel laughter and stench of coppery blood invading his senses.

Death approaches him, reaches down to touch his forehead, then waves his hand and the confusion clears from Dean’s face instantly and he’s suddenly upright in a defensive crouch trying to assess the situation and figure a way to get out like the hunter he will always be.  Death surveys him with a look that almost makes it all the way to sympathetic and then he abruptly disappears without a further word to anyone.

All the demons continue to laugh at Dean, as he methodically turns around surveying the whole room, and then he finally spots Sam, still hung up on the rack on the back wall.  He runs in a lopsided, painful shamble to Sam, screaming out his name, pulling at his secured legs, trying to get him loose, begging him to say something.  Sam can only stare at him mutely with pleading eyes that Dean try to understand that he had to do this, he had no other choice.  Dean seems to suddenly realize something and turns his back on Sam, zeroing in on the figure standing on the dais across the room, “Crowley, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but it ends now.  He’s mine not yours, let him down.”

“Well mate, technically he’s mine for the rest of the hour, tell you what, you can use him any way you like until times up and then I’ll let him down. Deal?”

“You son of a bitch.  Let him down now.” Dean demands.

“No you ponce, you don’t understand, he’s under contract to me. He’s not going anywhere until that hour’s up.”

Dean advances on the dais, coming nearer to Crowley, “Yeah right, like he’d make a deal with you dicks, Sam knows better than that!”

“Turns out you’ve no imagination after all, why am I surprised?  Of course he made a deal with me you brainless twit; I was the only game in town. And oh was he ever worth it.  All of us here enjoyed ourselves immensely, you’ve trained him very well Dean, his cock-sucking skills are indeed something to be proud of, unless that was courtesy of Lucifer that is.”

“Shut up you son of a bitch” Dean lunges at Crowley, tries to get his hands around Crowley’s throat to choke him.  Crowley effortlessly tosses Dean against the wall, so he’s pinned up next to Sam, screaming in pain

For Sam it’s like a replay of that lonesome godforsaken cabin when his Azazel- possessed father held them both immobile. He couldn’t help Dean being ripped apart from the insides out.  It’s too much, it’s too much the same thing all over again, and he couldn’t stop it then, he can’t stop it now, and he can’t take it, seeing Dean hurting because he can’t save him again

And that is when Sam finally loses it

The pain, humiliation and torture he’s suffered this past week are nothing compared to seeing his brother helpless and screaming and being ripped apart all over again.  Something breaks deep inside of him and those old powers are released. They resurface but are multiplied a thousand fold.  He’s always denied them, tried to ignore them, hoped they were gone for good, but now they’re coming up to the surface, it’s like a live thing coming up from deep in the ocean, seeing the light, shooting up fast, breaking the surface and gasping in air, getting instantly stronger

Sam feels bigger, so much bigger all of a sudden, his body thrumming, his powers expanding out forcefully and all the demons in the room die instantly in screaming burning smoking heaps around the room

All of them are dead, except Crowley and Bela who are now held fast up against the opposite wall, just above the throne

Sam’s so big now, his bonds break suddenly, the metal chains flying apart, clanging to the floor in pieces and he falls to the floor in a crumpled heap along with the collar and cuffs. Dean’s fallen too, but he’s on his feet first and helps Sam up and hugs him tightly, crushing their bodies together; completely mindless of them both being naked and filthy.  Their reunion is cut short when Sam sees Crowley getting a hand free; he tucks Dean into his left side, and Dean holding on in such an uncharacteristically clingy way it takes his breath away for a moment.  Sam puts his right hand out in his old demon pulling gesture and Crowley instantly stills and cries out in pain.  “Guess you shouldn’t have given me all that blood Crowley.”

Crowley cringes in pain, pinned against the wall, barely able to move, “Don’t go back on your deal Moose, you won’t like the repercussions.”

“What, I have like a half an hour left right?  I’ll just stay here, play awhile, then we’ll be square right?”

“No Sam, that was not our arrangement.  You were to be mine for one week.”

“Let me out of the rest of my time, and I won’t kill you.”

“You don’t have the mojo, Gigantor.”

With a scream Bela falls from the wall, soon she’s just another smoking pile of demon ruins.

Sam sneers, “Just try me.”

Crowley’s eyes are wide with fear, not sure if Sam really can do it, “Alright, alright, you’re free. Just go.”

“We never want to see you again Crowley.”

“Likewise I’m sure, both of you.”

“c’mon Sam, let’s get out of here”, Dean tugs on Sam to get him to back away from his confrontation with Crowley, hand on the small of Sam’s back to guide him out of the room.  Sam stops and shakes himself out of it, and pulls Dean close in against his side again, Dean complies willingly, too tired to argue.  “Yeah, let’s go.”

Sam practically carries Dean out to the Impala that is still parked in front of the old mansion, right where he had last seen it a week ago.  He props Dean up against the side of the car and gets some clothes for both of them out of his duffle bag in the trunk.  Dressing a nearly boneless Dean first, he gets him to sit in the passenger seat, then pulls on his clothes and starts up the car.

“Where we going Sammy?” Dean asks in a slurred voice, it’s obvious he’s about to crash into unconsciousness.

“As far away from here as I can get us.” Sam says grimly, pulling Dean close in against him, driving one-armed is not a problem, he’s still feeling strong after the demon blood.  But he feels different, not like he did after Lucifer rose when he was really weak.  There’s still a lot of pain from what the demons and Crowley did to him, and he doesn’t want to think about how much it hurts to sit down right now, but the residual energy from the demon blood is helping him get past it, for now.  Dean falls asleep almost instantly, going soft and warm, molding himself against Sam’s side, head on his shoulder

Sam drives for hours; they’re out of eastern Washington very quickly, thankfully Crowley wasn’t lying about his court being in Spokane.  Before Sam even notices, they’re across the skinny part of Idaho and already over the border into Montana.  He catches himself wishing he could just drive the rest of the way to Bobby’s house, but remembers with a painful sigh that there isn’t a Bobby or his house to go to for help anymore.  Rufus’ cabin it is then, and thankfully it isn’t too much further to Whitefish.  It’s not easy, not by a long shot, but he makes it, because he has to, there’s no one else but him. While he’s driving, he leaves Jody a short message telling her he’s got Dean and the car back.  When the cabin is finally in the headlights, he finds he barely has enough energy left to pull Dean up the steps and inside.  The last thing he’s able to do is curl up with Dean on the small bed, instantly passing out.

Masterpost~*~*~*~*~Part 1~*~*~*~*Part 2~*~*~*Part 4~*~*~*~