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Tweak says, "buttered toast"

winchester, sam. (ex_demonbloo908) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2010-09-21 16:32:00

Entry tags:

chuck shurley, mary winchester, sam winchester

WHO: Sam & Chuck; also featuring Mary and ~~Roger~~ War.
WHAT: Being abducted by your friends is not fun.
WHEN: Late afternoon.
WHERE: The room Sam and Chuck are trapped in.
RATING: PG-13.

There were three things that Sam Winchester happened to be absolutely certain of: one, demons generally sucked. Two, rock salt was the one tool that a person should always have handy. As for number three? Sam had very little doubt - especially at this point - that Jo Harvelle had completely lost her mind. No matter how hard Sam had tried, he couldn't make Jo see reason. She believed him to be a demon, in spite of the fact that she had an angel, several tests through rock salt and holy water, and his own word screaming that he was far from one. No matter what, Jo only seemed capable of seeing black eyes. It was because of that - and a mistake of judgment on his part - that Sam was here right now. Tied up, gagged, and dropped smack in the middle of a Devil's Trap, of all things. Sam shouldn't have been surprised by it. Jo did think he was a demon. Yet being here, finding himself being treated like any other monster that hunters chased after? It struck Sam harder on the inside than he cared to admit, even to himself. He wasn't the only guest within Jo's territory that was being treated like one of the bad guys either. No, as soon as Sam had been thrown into the trap, he had noticed that he wasn't the only one occupying it. Which meant that his suspicions had been correct all along: Chuck had been taken in by Jo. Just not so much in the kind of way that Sam would have expected of a friend.

She's not herself, Sam thought firmly, struggling against the ropes at his wrist. That had to be true. Jo was smarter than this. She should have picked up on how severely screwed up everything that was going on was by now. Something was messing with her head. And once Sam found out what that was...

He twisted against his ropes harder. Dammit. They were tight. Scowling against his gag, Sam glared down at his restraints, forcing that same look across the trap to his fellow partner in imprisonment. Poor Chuck. How long had he been trapped in here for? Sam stared at him uncertainly for a brief moment, but the look in his eyes was quick to jump back to that anger again. Yeah, Sam was annoyed. Very annoyed. Neither of them should have been locked up like this. It was wrong, it was inconvenient, and it was insulting. They had to figure a way out. Between Chuck and himself, they could (hopefully?) muster up some way out of this mess. Except, oh yeah. They couldn't talk with their mouths gagged up. Which meant that the actual communication required to plan outside of sign language of the face was out of the question. Nostrils flaring, Sam tightened his jaw and tried not to shoot any murderous looks in Chuck's direction. He was a prophet, right? How in the hell had he not seen this coming?

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capriciousgod
2010-09-22 05:14 pm UTC (link)

Chuck had long ago given up on even bothering to struggle against the ropes. As soon as he made any progress, the demon in Jo would just tighten them back up again, and he was pretty much sure he was just going to have to sit this one out. He only ever tried to struggle when she was moving him from place to place, which wasn’t often or anything, and even then it was halfhearted and more out of panic than any coordinated attempt to get away. He was stiff and sore, from being in the same position for ages, tied down, and he just wanted to go home. Home-home, not the apartment, here in Lawrence, but home, where he’d lived before he came here, that was safe and familiar and he’d never been kidnapped by a demon back there and he didn’t really want to leave Lawrence, but he didn’t want to be here, either. He wanted to be somewhere safe. Comfortable.

He wasn’t even sure how he was passing the time - how he wasn’t dying from boredom and panic and lack of sleep and overthinking, because all there was to do was think, but there wasn’t actually anything to think about except how Jo was possessed and he was going to die here and this was a really sucky way to die, not even really exciting, death by boredom or by whatever the demon decided to do next, besides the holy water and the salt and Latin (he didn’t understand how the demon could recite an exorcism designed to remove demons and not leave Jo’s body, but it was kind of terrifying) - and he really, really needed a friggin’ drink right now holy crap.

To put it nicely, he was having a very stressful week.

The only good thing about it was that apparently his archangel buddy was on vacation or something, had not yet shown up to turn Jo or the other demon-hosts into paste yet. Every time they came close, he’d panic, sure this time this time... but no.

So, basically, he’d hoped when one of the Winchesters arrived, it would be to get the demon out of Jo, calm her down, get him out of these ropes and out of this church, away from this madness... but no, Chuck wasn’t that lucky. When was he ever that lucky? Never.

Instead, Sam was in much the same predicament as he was, tied up and gagged and shooting daggers with his eyes in Chuck’s direction, and Chuck sighed, scowling around the cloth in his mouth as best he could, rolling his eyes, unspoken seriously? because really, their lives sucked, but Sam didn’t have to be all pissy about it, that wasn’t helping anything at all.

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_takeasadsong
2010-09-22 09:41 pm UTC (link)

Mary hesitated outside the door to the room she had been avoiding during her time in the old church. The past few days marked the first time since her death over twenty years ago that she'd encountered demons, an uncommon occurrence even during her time as a hunter when it had mostly been ghosts and black dogs and werewolves, whatever cropped up locally. It didn't feel like twenty years, especially as her memories of Heaven faded. It felt like she'd had a nightmare one night, a dream of fire and pain and her old life, and she'd awoken from it to find her babies replaced with men and her husband dead, like the world had jumped forward and she was the only one still chronological, still right. Still, seeing demons again was enough to rattle her, more than enough to bring back memories of flashing eyes and the smell of...she shook her head, brushed a tendril of hair that had escaped her tight bun back into place. That wasn't the worst of it either. Though she had wanted all her life to be safe, to be free, Mary Winchester wasn't a coward. Demons, her own death, she had dealt with, would deal with, but one of her sons possessed... that was what stopped her outside the door to the priest's apartment, what made her twist her wedding ring nervous on her finger.

I can't leave him alone in there, even if he is...especially if he's... was the thought that made her push open the door anyway.

Even with all her nerves she'd thought she was prepared but the sight of Sam tied up, gagged and glaring made her rock back on her heels. His eyes... she felt a wave of nauseated horror wash over her, a sudden certainty that Jo and Roger had been right. How could I have been so stupid? I should have stayed away, he's possessed, he's not Sam, I have to- she could feel the fear and anger swirling sickly-sour adrenaline in her stomach, blurring her vision, pumping the message like blood through her veins that this was a demon, this was not her son, the man next to him was not Chuck. She took a step forward, not sure what she intended to do, and her eye, by the slightest chance, fell on the place where Sam's ankles had been tied to the chair. One of his pants legs must have slipped in the struggle, or else he just hadn't been tied in carefully while he was unconscious, and after his struggling of the past few moments he had a friction-burn on the skin between ankle and calf. Concern, a sympathetic wince, was instinctive, had been since Dean was born and she'd realized she would never hurt for just one person again.

That concern, that instinct, was like a dash of cold water across whatever had been smoldering in her mind and before she could reconsider she'd crossed the devil's trap and knelt down in front of Sam, touching his shoulder briefly before reaching around behind him to undo his gag. The motion incited another wave of panic can't let him talk, can't let the demon spout lies, Roger says... but she could suppress it now that she'd recognized it as unreasonable and she rose quickly, stepping over to Chuck and untying his gag as well.

“Are you alright?” she asked, looking intently at Sam, unable to bring herself to approach again but her expression all concern. “You weren't hurt during the fight?” and then she remembered Chuck and towards him, “and you've...I'm sorry...has anyone even given you water?” She was still struggling against a feeling of wrongness but it was becoming easier now and she took a tentative step forward towards the two captives.

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ex_demonbloo908
2010-09-22 11:46 pm UTC (link)

There they were, two fully grown men, tied up and gagged by a tiny, blond woman. There was something annoyingly humorous about the situation, which made Sam all the more frustrated. He and Chuck were being held hostage. By Jo, of all people. Clearly she wasn't in her right mind, but that didn't make everything suck any less, now did it? Grunting against his gag in response to Chuck's eyeroll, Sam wriggled against the ropes wrapped around him once more. He could break free of these. Maybe, if he could get his hands twisted around the right way without either breaking them or completely tipping his chair over. Jo knew how to tie a mean knot, Sam would give her that. He twisted at his ropes again, straining his legs against the material wrapped around his ankles in the process. Sam could feel the rope burning at his skin, but he didn't seem to care. He wasn't going to sit in here and wait for this entire city to tear itself apart from the inside out. Sam needed to be out there. More importantly, he needed to make Jo and everyone else see that all of this wasn't what they thought it was. Giving the ropes another tug, Sam released a heavy breath and let his head flop downward. The ropes weren't budging. He needed to re-think his strategy. Or, better yet, his severe lack of one.

"Mrmphit!"

Or in gagged and bound prisoner speak: dammit!

Seriously, Chuck needed to learn how to read minds too. He could already see everything that he and Dean did on a regular basis. Why not be able to see inside their heads as well? If not that, then Sam would have happily settled for some kind of reassurance that he was going to get out of here soon. There had to be a comforting vision tucked away in that head of his somewhere. It was all that psychic crap. Maybe if Sam tried channeling his psychic stuff with Chuck's psychic stuff, they'd be able to accomplish...something. But then there was the fact that Sam wasn't using his powers anymore. And he was also pretty sure that Chuck couldn't control his either. Screwing his eyes shut, Sam tried to avoid releasing another sharp growl of annoyance - something that became a lot easier to accomplish as soon as the door cracked open and Sam saw Mary slip into the room.

Almost instantly, Sam went from unbelievably frustrated to finding a streak of shock and worry replacing the aforementioned emotion. Would she believe that they were innocent? Would she try and exorcise them? Would Mary look into her sons eyes and dub him a monster? Sam looked up at her; the illusion painted his eyes were black, but they were very much filled with worry. Then Mary reached around and ungagged him, worry quickly shifting into hope with the gesture. She was letting him speak. She was asking if he was okay. She believed that something was going on too, didn't she? "I'm okay," Sam said, looking to her eagerly. He had a few scratches here and there - both from his encounter with Jo and a few others he'd had in the city as well - but it was nothing to be concerned about. Sam had endured far, far worse. "I - what are you doing here, Mom?" She was ungagging Chuck and himself, that was what. Did that mean....? "I'm not a demon. I know it looks that way and I know that you're probably having a hard time believing it, but it's true. Something is going on, Mom. Something is turning us against each other. We need to find it and stop it." She had to listen. She was being far more generous to he and Chuck than any other hunter who thought that someone was a demon ever would.

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capriciousgod
2010-09-23 09:59 pm UTC (link)

Chuck watched Sam’s continued struggles with the best you're being stupid scowl he could manage with fabric in his mouth - he’d long since resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t getting out of here that way, but apparently Sam wasn’t going to sit by calmly in this situation... which was probably the better option, wasn’t it? Actually making an effort to get out, to get back out there, to do something useful... but he was tired, and sore, and not even remotely strong enough to just hulk out of the ropes, or something, and he’d already tried wiggling out and he just, he didn’t have the energy for that. So, whatever, if Sam wanted to wear himself out, he could go right ahead.

But he didn’t have to be so obnoxious about the whole thing, did he? It wasn’t like this was Chuck’s fault or anything. He’d had nothing to do with Sam getting caught. How did he get caught, anyway? Seriously, he was like... ridiculously tall, ridiculously strong, and Jo was pretty strong too, sure, but Chuck just couldn’t picture her overpowering Sam without almost laughing (which he was pretty sure was not the appropriate response to anything relating to this situation, maybe he was getting kind of hysterical, trapped here...) and he figured that wouldn’t go over well with Sam. Not that Sam could do anything about it, but whatever, he still didn’t really want to piss the hunter off right now. He was the only ally Chuck had in this.

The only one except, apparently, Mary, who was coming in and untying their gags, concerned - but her eyes were black, and Chuck stared at her, completely lost, while she spoke to her son, to him.

>“...and you've...I'm sorry...has anyone even given you water?”

“Uh, not in...” quite a while, it felt like, but it was hard to tell, in here; the passage of time was weird, when you were in the same place hour after hour and nothing changed to let you know - “...I guess it was a few hours ago?”

He watched her warily, trying to see why Sam wasn’t freaking out about her being possessed, why a demon that wasn’t Ruby would be here helping them, what the hell was going on because he really, really hated not knowing what was happening, why the world was suddenly going completely insane, and he hated it even more when he’d spent days (he’d lost count, but he thought it might have been a week, now) tied up.

>> "I'm not a demon. I know it looks that way and I know that you're probably having a hard time believing it, but it's true. Something is going on, Mom. Something is turning us against each other. We need to find it and stop it."

“Wait, seriously? There’re no demons?”

If that were true, it would explain the a lot, actually. Because if something wanted to make them think the others were demons, that would... it would make sense. It would probably explain why the archangel hadn’t popped in to blow Jo or the others to paste, yet. He wanted to believe that, he really did. Not least because it meant he didn’t have to worry about getting a demon out of Jo - a demon who could touch salt and holy water and say exorcisms, which meant none of those things would be effective against it.

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