Sammy's Plaything

Chapter 5

 

Dean's hunt through the real estate magazines of Carson City had met with some success, there were only about 10 estates sizable enough to host a demon army, furthermore there was one big Victorian eyesore that Dean had a hunch would turn out to be demon ground zero.

 

He had asked Bobby to come along but as usual Bobby had been very reluctant and bowed out insisting he was merely the researcher and planner of the mission, not the infantry. Dean had felt bad asking someone else to risk their lives for something he was sure was his fault. It most of been something he said, something he did, something he didn't do that had made same turn against him and humanity.

 

Oftentimes Dean would find himself hoping that Sam was merely under a sort of curse or possessed, there had to be a more logical explanation for his baby brother's behaviour. Sam Winchester wouldn't just walk out on his brother and enlist as general for Hell's army.

 

He took another swig from his flask of Jack, he hated drinking and driving his precious baby but there was no way he could take on Sam sober. He just wasn't strong enough. If it came down to it, Dean would rather throw himself on his sword than seriously fight his brother. Better to die a coward, at least he'd be with his brother.

 

Dean eased the Impala toward the rusted, scorching black gates of the old white marble house. He pulled past the gates and down a dusty dirt road beside the house. The road didn't look as though it led anywhere and Dean needed to hide his baby somewhere safe while he scoped out the joint. It likely wouldn't be easy to infiltrate the demon headquarters.

 

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Sam didn't know how, but he knew the instant Dean neared his estate. He waited eagerly, everything was in place and set to go off without a hitch. Sam figured he just had to distract his brother long enough to knock him out a perform the spell.

 

His bedroom was now awash in rich crimsons and midnight colours. There was a huge four poster canopy bed with a set of leather cuffs attached to each post. The sheets were black silk and the adjoining room would make any dominatrix envious. The assortment of instruments of torture in the rosewood cabinent would not be out of place in an upscale S/M club or a medieval dungeon.

 

Sam steeled himself for the task ahead, thinking only of the end result. The end would justify the means. He was anxious to see his brother, it had been too long.

 

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As near as Dean could tell the security was a joke. There were no guards, no cameras, no rottweilers. Of course it didn't seem logical that anyone would try to break into a demon fortress, but this was way too easy. It was almost as if he was expected.

 

Dean started to feel uneasy and queasy. He was also very nervous. How would he handle himself when the time came, what would he say. Dean just wasn't ready to face an evil Sam and nothing would make him ready. He gulped more whiskey which burned pleasantly as it went down and he set about scaling the high stone walls.

 

Dropping onto the other side, Dean crept through the shadows, kicking up dust as he approached the looming marble facade. He was about to come face to face with destiny. Strangely he wished Sam were there with him to reassure him.