Be my... demon

1

A drop of blood hit the concrete floor. Sam sucked air through his bruised nose, rolled the saliva in his mouth, then spat. A red spray joined the drop.

Slowly, he turned his head and looked up into the face of the man who was slowly leaning toward him. He was an unusually tall Japanese man in a very expensive grey suit with a distinctive tattoo on his neck that gave away that he was a member of the Yakuza. He didn't know his name, but he knew full well why his men had rushed him in the alley, beaten him, and dragged him into this concrete basement full of harsh light and eerie echoes.

"I really hate to repeat myself, Mr. Barkley. Where is it?" he asked in the slick tone of the manager of a very expensive hotel.

"Have you looked between the cushions on the sofa? They're always there when I lose my keys," he replied casually, his enunciation a little worse for the torn lip and one incisor he was already holding just barely. He hoped it wouldn't fall out. He hated it when Cas had to grow a new tooth. It was really new. Perfect, just like when it had first pushed its way through his jaw some twenty-five years ago. It didn't fit in with the others in shape or color, and it had taken weeks and hectoliters of coffee and beer before it finally stopped looking like a cheap replacement from some rogue dentist.

The Japanese manager did not seem amused by his response. He pursed his lips tightly and straightened before nodding to the much smaller man standing at Sam's side, several long needles in his hands.

He already knew all too well what was coming next, so he gritted his teeth and braced himself for the pain. The long, thin needle began to slowly penetrate his bicep. It worked its way first through his skin and then through his flesh, leaving behind not only the sensation of a foreign object in his body and pain, but also an unusual burning sensation. She must have been covered in something that enhanced the whole torture experience. Maybe just plain salt, but... damn! It was terribly unpleasant. The pain... it was bearable. He'd certainly experienced much, much worse torture in his lifetime, it was just... he wanted to go to the bathroom so badly that that alone was torture. Which, unfortunately, he inflicted on himself. He really shouldn't have had that third cucumber-pumpkin smoothie.

"At first I was going to express my amazement at your incredible stamina," the manager spoke up as he slowly began to walk Sam around the circle, as if to check his man's work from all sides, "but then it dawned on me. You're no ordinary thief. You're a soldier. I just don't know whose yet, but I'm sure I'll find out sooner or later, and you'll tell me where the necklace is just the same. It's just gonna take more time than I - "

His would-be threatening speech was interrupted by the clanking of a metal tray of surgical instruments as his captors prepared for the next rounds of interrogation.

Everyone in the room glanced at the vibrating cell phone that had made the unpleasant sound.

The manager held up a finger to stop his subordinate from inserting the needle and slowly walked over to the table and picked up the phone.

They'd tried to get into it earlier, but couldn't without the password, and of course Sam hadn't been very cooperative, even when they'd tried to poke his eye out of its socket. The ringing phone was at least an opportunity to talk to someone who belonged to Sam. And as Sam hoped, Dean was on the other end, and hopefully their one-man angel cavalry with him, because unless Cas was near Dean, there was no way his brother was going to get here before they killed him.

He grinned inwardly.

What, exactly, was he afraid of? Castiel was still close to Dean. In fact, they were glued to each other, like two giant, slimy octopuses, and there wasn't a single nook in the entire Bunker where he could retreat and enjoy some solitude without those two idiots in love.