Chapter 13
Dean was slowly awakening. He felt nauseous, probably due to the multiple chloroforming he had suffered in the last hours.
First, this Jughead boy who surprised him. Then the grenade. And then… yes, that was definitely Luke’s voice.
Luke. That bastard! He’ll pay for that!
Dean proceeded with care. He slowly tried to open his jaws, only to discover that they were mercilessly blocked, as well as some stuffing in his mouth that blocked his tongue. He felt the pattern of the muzzle straps on his forehead and on the sides of his nose.
He forced himself to calm down. He quickly found that he couldn’t move anyway, his arms were in front of him but immobilized in a tight hug.
« A straitjacket » he realized. Moreover, his legs couldn’t move either; they were strapped together and also to some sort of bench. Dean realized his whole body was stuck in position, even his head.
He slowly opened his eyes. Something was wrong. His vision was blurry, and for one moment, he had difficulty understanding his environment. He then realized he was not strapped lying on a bench, as he first thought, but standing against a pillar.
His vision slowly focused. He realized he was in a large stone room, facing some kind of throne.
A dark silhouette was standing on it, looking right at him.
The man in the dark coat was so immobile that Dean had not noticed him at first.
He was looking right through him, but Dean couldn’t see his eyes: his whole face was darkened by his large hood. He was contemplating an infinite dark hole.
« Mmmh?! »
The sound was coming from his left. The strap holding him to the pillar by his forehead limited his head movement, but Dean could distinguish his brother from the corner of his eyes. Unsurprisingly, Sam was trussed up just like he was, straitjacketed, muzzled, and strapped to another pillar.
“Nmnn?”
“PHnm, N phhnnh nph’ph phhm grnnn mnphphmr!”
After a moment of confusion, Sam became aware of the presence of the Grand Master too. He tried to address him, pleading his cause, mumbling desperately for a moment, but of course the muzzle and the plug gag beneath suppressed all intelligible speech.
The Grand Master stayed immobile during his muffled speech. Then he spoke.
« Such a disappointment ». His voice was deep, dark, but also somewhat ironic, almost aristocratic. It was the voice of a superior being.
« Your father told me you were smart. Especially you, Sam » he continued sternly. « But here you are, silenced by a muzzle, captive, and you nonetheless seems to think that I might be interested by what you have to say right now… »
Sam’s muffled pleas instantly vanished.
« No, here is the one I want to hear right now ».
The brothers heard the sound of a loud door opening in their back, followed by the steps of booted feets. They couldn’t see who it was before the man passed through them. But then, they recognized Luke, still clad in his light gray cloak worn by the novices.
He didn’t cast any glance at the two bound brothers. A few feet ahead of them, he respectfully crouched before the throne.
« Grand Master… »
« Ah, novice Luke. You know why you are here. Please, do tell me everything ».
And Luke told him. Back from when he was at the motel, and how he surprised the Winchester while they were abducting the prophet Kevin. Then how he was abducted himself and then joined the brotherhood. How the brothers tricked him in order to kidnap Nick rather than rallying him. And then their failure at Riverdale, including all the details and how they got secured by two boys and all the secret intel regarding the Brotherhood they’ve leaked to them.
The Grand Master listened to him without interruption. Then he spoke again.
« I see. Most of it had already been reported to me. But I wanted to hear it from your side. You suffered a great unfairness, Luke ».
A silence. Then the Grand Master slowly stood up and walked to Luke. He then laid his fully gloved hand over his shoulder.
« Luke, do you know why I gave my assent to your recruitment? Let me show you what I saw in you… »
Luke was instantly transported into a vision. He saw cities in flames. He saw hordes of dead men walking down the streets. And he saw himself, apparently leading a group of refugees, trying to fight for their lives in the apocalypse.
The vision ended as abruptly as it began.
Luke needed a moment to catch his breath.
“What…?”
“What did I just see, you wonder? This is another reality… the events which could have been, if some other choices were made… This vision showed you what the world could be if we were not here to protect it”.
“But… I was there”
“Yes. Another version of yourself. Which showed me what kind of brave leader you could be.”
“This world… could it still be our future?”
“It might. But everything I’m doing here is to prevent it from ever happening, this one… and all the other apocalypses I foresee. Will you help me, Luke?”
Luke bowed his head. “Yes, Grand Master. Will all my might”.
“Then rise… brother Luke”.
As Luke stood up, he saw a part of his cloak in the corner of his eyes. It was now pitch black. The color of the fully-introduced members of the Brotherhood.
“Grand Master… I’m so honored”.
“I have big plans for you, Luke. Your role here is not over. Go see Brother Dave, he will give you your next instructions. The Red Paladin and the Hellcaster shall not be left without supervision”.
“Mmmmhh!!” Sam muttered.
Luke shivered. He had almost forgotten their presence.
“What about them?”
“They seemed to have found our targets, but by mere accident… and they jeopardized the whole operation, not to mention the great unfairness they did to you… and to Nick. But don’t worry. I know the exact punishment for breaking their egos. Now go, brother!”
As he turned around, he saw that the Winchester brothers started to panic at hearing these words. Their arms struggled in vain in the straitjackets, producing a swishing sound. But it was especially visible in their eyes, wide with fear.
“Enjoy it!”, Luke muttered as he exited the room, displaying a satisfied, vengeful smile.
“Grnnn Mnphphmr!”
“Pmmnphm! Mmph nph mghpmnnn!”
Sam and Dean mumbled as loudly as their muzzles allowed them, which didn’t give an impressive result. The Grand Master stayed immobile, waiting for them to exhaust themselves. Finally, he spoke:
“What did you expect? A fair trial with witnesses and jurors? Tough luck, I’m the only one in command in the Brotherhood. And you’ve already been found guilty”.
His sentence was as definitive as his tone. Dean stopped his mumbling at once, suckin by reflex at the plug in his mouth, like a baby being scolded.
Dean then saw him snap his fingers. Almost instantly, a cold, damp and reeking cotton piece was applied over his nose.
The sweet smell coming from it identified chloroform again. A Brother must have stealthy came from behind the pillar, waiting for the grand master signal. With his head muzzled and strapped to the pillar, there was no chance Dean had seen that coming.
He did manage to look at his brother from the corner of his eyes though. Unsurprisingly, he was receiving the same treatment. Dean could see his face muscles tensing as he tried to fight the drug.
Dean put up an attempted struggle on principle , but with his arms straitjacketed and his legs strapped to the pillar, it was almost unnoticeable. He knew that yelling was just going to make the drug act faster - as if it were any point doing so with his mouth filled by the plug gag and his jaws blocked by the muzzle anyway.
He heard the Grand Master. He knew that he would lose the fight.
And so, he surrendered and willingly took a deep breath.
The effect was instantaneous, giving the amount of chloroform he had already received in the last 24 hours. His eyes started prickling, his head spinned, and his vision blurred - the last thing he saw was the Grand Master, still engulfed in his black cloak, still immobile on his throne…
***
Dean felt nauseous. Again, he was lying flat, but he had difficulties opening his eyes. When he finally managed to do so, he realized that he wasn’t against the pillar anymore, but lying on his back on a bed.
No. Not a bed. This was far too hard. And it felt it slightly move… a gurney?
Dean checked his limbs, but realized that he was still straitjacketed like before. His jaws and his tongue being blocked informed him that the muzzle over the plug gag was still snuggly strapped. He shouldn’t have been unconscious for long…
He tried to move his legs, maybe even to sit up… but they weren’t moving. But he didn’t feel the straps this time.
Dean managed to slightly sit up and gave his legs a glance. In horror, he discovered that his whole body was now engulfed in a straitjacket-like canvas; not only his chest and arms but all the way down, with several straps holding his legs, from his feet to his crotch. He was still wearing his clothes and boots under the bondage.
“mmmmphh”
Dean turned his head. There was someone else. Against the wall, there was an open wooden box. And someone inside. Like Dean, his whole body had been engulfed in a straitjacket and a leg sack, but his face was also completely hidden by a black, opaque, tight-fitting hood.
Dean spotted the green collar of the straitjacket. It was Sam! And judging by the sounds coming from him, he was also heavily gagged.
“PHNM! PHNNNNNNNNM! CNN MNN HMNR MM??”
Dean’s speech was of course suppressed by the muzzle, but he should have been heard nonetheless. But his brother’s silhouette didn’t react, and still lightly struggled in his straitjacket, without paying attention to him, not even turning his head in his direction.
What the fuck?
“Ah, you’re awake. We can process you then!”, a voice behind Dean said. He heard two sets of loud booted footsteps, then two Brothers leaned over him. A regular black cloak and a dark blue one, identifying his wearer as a member of the mystic division. Dean remembered Dave told them that they were directly under the orders of the Grand Master. Their hoods were up, so he couldn’t see their faces.
He felt a pressure over his ears, as the brother in the blue cloak put something in it. He withdrew but Dean suddenly felt something plugged in them, and expanded quickly. In a matter of seconds, both of his ears canals were completely plugged with some foamish material, cutting all the sounds.
Dean turned his head to the other brother, and saw that he was holding in his hands a black spandex hood, like the one Sam had over his head. Behind him, Dean saw his helpless brother lightly struggling again, emitting pitiful muffled sounds. And he saw an empty box next to him. On the other side, two wooden lids were waiting against the wall.
And then when he realized.
The boxes. They were not just boxes. They were coffins.
They intended to bury them alive!
Dean went berserk, his muffled cries becoming high-pitched shrieks, and his whole body trying to contort in his tight bondage. But it was unforgiving; the Brother behind him pulled on his shoulders, blocking him to the gurney, while the other was passing the hood on his head.
All of a sudden, everything went black. The fabric of the hood was completely blinding him. But it somehow let him breathe through it.
Ten seconds later, Dean felt himself being lifted by two pairs of hands, one holding him under his armpits, the other seizing his feets. He was then dropped and felt the wooden garment at his shoulders.
He was in the coffin!
He screamed, like he had never screamed before in his whole life, coughing in his gag. He tried to sit up straight, but his bondage hampered him, and the box was too tight. He then felt something being slammed over him, followed by loud knocks; he didn’t hear them but felt the box shakening.
They were sealing the lid!
Panic soaked each and every Dean’s thoughts. He was sweating, he had difficulty breathing. He couldn’t think straight anymore. All he was doing was of no use.
He couldn’t see.
He couldn’t move.
He couldn’t hear.
His voice was blocked.
He was nothing anymore.
***
As he was sealing the second coffin, Jack removed his hood.
“Say Lester, how long did the Grand Master say their punishment will be?”
“40 hours”, his acolyte replied, putting off his dark blue hood too. Both were young, in their early 20’s, like most of the Brothers.
“Woah. I heard some Brothers condemned to the Oblivion Crate had gone mad after only 20 hours”.
“Don’t you think they deserved that?”
“Oh sure thing”, Jack replied. “First, the will of the Grand Master is not to be discussed”. Lester nodded approvingly. “And then, they were really annoying. Even apart from what they did to Luke. Did you hear how they talked to Jeff?”
“I was told to, yes…”
“And I heard that they severely screwed up an important mission. But you’re a mystic Brother, you should know more than me on that matter…”
Jack held his ear to one crate. He could hear very faint knocks and a very muffled, desperate yet unintelligible shout. But the sound was so faint that he didn’t hear it as soon as he lifted his head.
“Yeah”, he grinned. “They deserved that”.
“We’ll see in two days. If they lose their minds, then they’ll be good for sacrifice. Otherwise, I guess their father will reclame them”.
“At least it would have taught them humility”.
“Oh, for sure! You see, humanity has developed various method of tortures for ages, but the most efficient thing is also the most simple one: if you want to break a man, just prevent him from doing anything at all”.
The two young brothers continued small talk as they exited the room, shutting down the light, leaving only two immobile, sealed wooden boxes behind them.