Characters: Uriel, Sam
Word Count: 1,900
Warnings/Kinks: Torture, bondage
Notes: Originally written for this blindfold_spn prompt: Uriel is curious to see if angel blood has the same effect on Sam as demon blood.
Sam wakes up to darkness, not a hint of light to see by. He blinks, waiting for his eyes to get accustomed to the dark, and tries to look around, but his head is strapped in place. His arms are held straight out at his sides, his shoulders aching from the uncomfortable position – how long has he been here? – and when he tries to move them he finds they're chained to some kind of metal frame. He struggles, muscles straining against the chains, but only gets a dull rattle. His arms don't budge an inch.
"Do they hurt?"
Sam's eyes cast around the pitch-black room for the source of the voice. A light switches on above him, the sudden brightness searing his eyes, but it allows him to see the person standing in front of him. "Uriel," he says, and his memory comes rushing back. He'd gotten back to the motel room to find Dean gone and Uriel waiting for him, and he'd barely had time to ask what was going on before a touch of Uriel's hand had knocked him out. He wonders how long ago that was, how long it will take for Dean to realize he's not just off with Ruby. His hands tighten into fists. "Where am I?"
"I take it they don't," Uriel goes on, walking the perimeter of the circle of light. Sam tries to follow his movements but he can’t turn his head enough to see what's behind him. "Didn't she let you have any tonight?" He steps in close enough Sam can feel him, hovering over his shoulder. "I can smell her all over you." His breath is warm on Sam’s neck. "Filth on top of filth."
Sam sets his jaw. "What do you want?"
"Did you think we didn't know what you were doing?" Uriel moves away, completes the circle so he’s standing in front of Sam again. "I told you we'd kill you the second you stopped being of use to us." He looks Sam up and down, taking stock of him, and his lip curls. "You may be useful yet."
Sam shakes his head as much as the strap will allow. "I'm not helping you." He doesn't know what the angels' plans are, but he knows he doesn’t want any part in them.
"You'll do what you're told," Uriel says. "Or I'll send you down into the pit." He smirks. "Maybe they'll let you have your brother's old rack."
Sam pulls fruitlessly at the chains around his arms. "Fuck you," he spits, twisting his wrists to feel out any slack. There isn't any. "Let me go."
"Why? You like what your little demon slut gives you." He pulls a vial out from his breast pocket. "You're going to like this even more."
Sam's eyes dart from the bottle to Uriel's face. "What is that?"
"You know what it is." Uriel tilts the vial so Sam can see the light reflecting off the liquid inside. It's viscous, a dark red-- Blood. Angel blood. "Let's see what it does."
Sam's stomach curdles. "No." He hadn't wanted that first taste of Ruby's blood either. It had been like trying to swallow liquid chalk, and it had burned all the way down his throat. He'd barely been able to keep it down long enough for that burn to spread through his whole body, suffusing him with warmth and power while his stomach continued to revolt. He'd killed the demon Ruby had waiting with a flick of his hand and vomited all over the floor.
He doesn't want to know what effect a taste of angel blood will have.
"No?" Uriel closes his fist around the vial. "You're telling us no?" He moves forward until he's only a foot away from Sam, too close for comfort. "Do you know what's really happening to you?" He rests his fingertips on Sam's chest. "Do you know what your soul looks like right now?" He pushes forward, and Sam can feel the tips of his fingers against his skin like they've cut right through his shirt. He tries to see what Uriel's doing, but the strap around his forehead won't let him look down. "Do you know what it feels like?"
Sam doesn't have time to answer before Uriel's hand is plunging into him like a cannonball to the chest, pushing all the air from his lungs. He's screaming, he knows he is, but he can't hear it over the rush of agony. He can hear the pain, see it, taste it stabbing through him, sharp and metallic on his tongue. His chest is burning for want of air, bile's rising in his throat and his muscles won’t cooperate enough to swallow it down. He doesn't know how much more he can take.
And just like that, it's over. Uriel's hand is gone, and Sam slumps in his bonds; he'd fall to the floor if it weren't for the chains wrapped all around him. He's breathing harsh and heavy, trying to make up for the air he couldn't get while Uriel was- whatever he was doing, but the chains bruising his ribcage are too tight for anything more than a series of shallow breaths.
"It's noxious," Uriel says. "Polluted. Inhuman."
"Wh-" Sam tries, but his mind and his lips won't connect. He shakes his head and puts his weight on his feet again, easing the restriction around his chest, but he's exhausted, as shaky as if he'd just run a marathon. "I'm not."
"You're an abomination," Uriel snarls. He holds up the vial between his thumb and forefinger. "But I might have a cure."
Sam clenches his jaw shut and gives a minute shake of his head. No. It doesn't matter what Uriel says. He's not drinking that.
Uriel's free hand closes around Sam's jaw, his fingers digging into Sam's cheeks. "Enough talking," he says. "Open your mouth."
Sam tries to resist, sealing his lips together and shying away from the vial Uriel tries to force between them, but he's no match for an angel's strength. He fights every step of the way, yanking at the chains as he glares at Uriel, but eventually his teeth inch apart, scraping the inside of his cheeks. His lips form a reluctant O as Uriel wedges his fingers between Sam's upper and lower jaw to hold them open. Uriel pops the cap off the bottle and empties the contents into Sam's mouth, slamming his hand up against the underside of Sam's chin as soon as he's done so Sam doesn't have a chance to spit it out. "Swallow."
Sam doesn't want to, but the blood is sliding down the back of his tongue and if he doesn't swallow soon he's going to be breathing it in. He forces it down, barely managing not to choke on the bitter, caustic fluid. It sits unpleasantly in his stomach, but at least he doesn't throw it up. Absently, he wonders which of the angels he's drinking from.
Satisfied Sam's followed his direction, Uriel drops his hand. Sam gathers the lingering traces of blood in his mouth and spits them out, spraying Uriel's face and shoulder. "Let me go." It's a futile demand, he knows; Uriel's not going to release him until he's ready. Or until Dean shows up to get him out of here.
"I will," Uriel says calmly, wiping the spittle from his face. "If you can pull me from this body."
Sam stares. He might-- he might be able to do that. Demons are second nature by now, and he can feel the power of the blood sparking through him like electricity, making him itch to strike. It's heady, like the heat of the demon blood, and Sam knows enough to know he's going to want it again after it's gone. "I can't," he says. He's not playing Uriel's game.
"Then you can stay there," Uriel says, as though it makes no difference to him. He glances down at the vial in his hand and tosses it aside. "Was that not enough for you? Do you need more?" He smiles and gestures at himself. "I can drain this body dry."
"Don't." Sam doesn't know who Uriel's occupying, but he doesn't want him to die so Uriel can play mad scientist.
Uriel lets out a dark chuckle. "You want to save it?" he says. "Like you saved the rest of those mud monkeys?" He spreads his arms out wide, making himself an easy target. "Go ahead. Try."
Sam closes his eyes, but it's not Uriel's vessel he focuses on. He thinks of the metal ensnaring him, the weaknesses in the chains where they've been welded shut, the edges slowly splitting apart--
"No," Uriel says, angrily enough Sam knows it must be working. His hand lands heavily on Sam's chest again. "I'm not interested in parlor tricks."
Sam doesn't stop. He pulls at the chains around his arms until he feels them start to give and then he pulls harder, determined to break through them. His progress is slow; he doesn't know if it's because he hasn't practiced this or if the iron resists the demon blood. Either way, he's going to get out.
"I said stop." Uriel's fingers push into his chest again and Sam's grunts distort into screams. Stop, he thinks as pain blazes through him. Stop stop stop stop STOP.
A blast of frigid air hits Sam from behind, so cold it freezes out the pain in his chest. His eyes fly open and Uriel's ten feet away, trying to regain his balance, and his own right arm is hanging down at his side, free of the chains. Sam huffs out a weary, satisfied laugh. He did it.
Uriel's lips turn up into a smile that's too pleased for Sam's liking. "Impressive," he says. "But you need work."
Sam's panting and tugging at the chains around his other arm and ready to tell Uriel to fuck off, but Uriel's head tilts and he looks up, as though he's listening to something Sam can't hear.
"I see," he says, more to himself than Sam. His eyes drop to Sam again, his expression smug. "I'm afraid I have to cut this short." He snaps his fingers and Sam's restraints disappear, and Sam falls to his hands and knees on the cement floor. "But I'll be seeing you very soon." Another snap of his fingers and he's gone, too, leaving Sam to find his own way out of here. And to figure out what the hell just happened, and what Uriel could want with a human that can exorcise - and possibly kill - other angels.