Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any characters you recognize.

Warning: Extreme torture and gruesome scenes, also aftermath of rape, talk of suicide and self-harm. If any of these is a trigger please don't read.

Thanks to cappy712 for being my beta.

Enjoy.

Prologue

Crowley watched apathetically as the latest demon corpse was being dragged away from his office in hell. To say that Crowley was a displeased would be the understatement of this very young century. He had yet to be able to find the demon tablet and Kevin, the prophet and only person that could read it. And it was all thanks to those nosey, co-dependent Winchesters.

From what little his stupid, idiotic demons have been able to come up with is that Sam and Dean have worked their differences and aren't fighting anymore. As a matter of fact, Dean has become more protective of his brother and doesn't let Sam out of his sight. They've been doing fewer hunts and when they do it's usually a little ghostie here, a little beastie there but they have avoided demons and angels. Castiel still hasn't been heard from and Dean's instincts and skills have actually sharpened. Basically, his demons have found out a lot of information but not where the Prophet is being kept.

"Bloody idiots, can't do a simple thing themselves," he mumbled while pouring himself a glass of his favorite drink, Craig scotch, aged thirty years. Just as he was about to take his first sip he felt he was being summoned.

"Seriously, just as I'm about to take my drink," he snapped his fingers to where he was being summoned and came face to face with a smirking Dean Winchester holding the demon killing knife. Crowley looked above his head and saw a devil's trap. Bollocks.

"Squirrel, to what do I owe this honor?"

"Well," he started while twirling the knife around and around in his hands, "I
could kill you right now since I have you powerless in there." He smirked while he said that and Crowley was preparing himself to fight against Dean and hopefully come out alive and with some answers as to where the tablet and Kevin were at.

"Or," he put the knife away and took out a bottle of Craig scotch from a brown bag, took out two glasses and poured some of the amber liquid in both, "we can talk business."

Crowley was surprised when he heard Dean said that and thought he had lost his mind from stress of ruling a kingdom but Dean shot at the devil's trap so it could break and let Crowley out, moved forward and gave him a glass full of his favorite drink.

"Hope this is as good as you say, Crowley."

Crowley raised an eyebrow and said, "What sort of business are we talking about, Squirrel?"

Dean just smiled and took one swig to drain his drink (which was a shame, really, as he didn't even savor it), made a face and started talking.

Chapter One

Dean was feeling restless. Beside him, Sam was sleeping in his own bed with his eyebrows scrunched together; probably the starts of a nightmare, which is why Dean was feeling restless in the first place. It has been close to two months since Sam told him about his captivity, rape and torture but Dean was no closer to finding the sons of bitches that was the cost of Sam's suffering and Dean's bane.

Yesterday, he even did something stupid. He summoned Crowley and made a bargain with the king of hell. He hadn't told Sam about it, he would just get pissed off at Dean and after the feeling of angers disappeared, he would start feeling responsible. Dean didn't want that; he wanted Sam calm, occupied and not thinking about what had happened to him while Dean was in purgatory. Which is the reason Dean had stopped asking Sam for the names of his assailants and where he had been kept.

Mostly because of what had happened two weeks ago. Dean had gone out to a bar because he needed to line his wallet up with cash. He had left Sam alone—Sam had declared he was too tired to go out—and when he came back he had found Sam in the tub of the hotel naked, scrubbing himself raw in hot water and with fresh cuts that had littered Sam's arms and legs.

The next morning Sam had explained that it was Dean's mother henning and questions that had led him to that state of mind. So, Dean had eased up, he let Sam have his morning runs without calling even though the whole time Dean had horror shows running through his head, let Sam go out to pick lunch and supplies and even stopped asking Sam for names and places.

Still, Dean felt he was going insane without knowing who they were and doing something about it. Preferably, torturing and killing the bastards. Dean was dragged out of his thoughts when he heard Sam groan. Dean got up and started shaking Sam awake.

"Hey, Sam, wake up. You're having a bad dream. Sammy!" He half whispered, half yelled.

Sam woke up with a gasp and moved away from Dean almost falling off the bed. Any other time Dean would've thought that hilarious but now, it left Dean feeling heartbroken and sad.

"Dean, what the hell just happened?"

"You were having a nightmare. Decided I should wake you up before you started screaming and brought law enforcements down our asses," he said trying to be funny and lighten the mood; it didn't work.

Sam nodded and pulled the covers up to his chin while he was sitting against the headboard. He looked so young and lost, it shattered Dean's heart.

"Wanna talk about?"

"It's nothing, Dean; I barely even remember the dream," he whispered almost as if he was afraid to talk louder than that.

Dean let a deep breath out of his nose and said, "Sam, we've talked about this. You can't bottle things in, it ain't good for you."

Sam looked up and still whispering, answered, "Not right now, okay? I don't want to think about so close to the nightmare and in the dark. In the morning, please, Dean?"

Dean made the mistake to look straight at Sam's face; he had the puppy eyes out in full force.

"Alright, fine, but we will talk about this in the morning, capisce?"

Sam nodded and looked at Dean opening his mouth as if he was going to ask him something. Then he shook his head and went to lie back down to sleep. Dean gave a small sighed and walked towards Sam's bed, saying, "Scoot over, jerk face, I need space to lie down, too."

"Dean, you don't have to," Sam told Dean even as he was scooting over.

"Shut up and go to sleep, I'm tired." Sam moved closer to Dean as if he was trying to get more warmth from his brother, sighed a little and in a few minutes was snoring softly. Dean looked at his little brother's face. It looked peaceful now, no scrunched up forehead, no tossing and turning, just…peaceful.

That was their new normal now. Whenever Sam had a nightmare Dean would crawl into bed with him like he used to do when Sam was younger and on those occasions when they had their own bed. It was the only way Sam didn't have any nightmares. Dean would do it from the time Sam went to bed so the nightmares wouldn't start but Sam would look mortified and would only allow Dean to sleep beside him when it was the middle of the night and he felt vulnerable.

Dean pulled Sam closer to him and encircled his arms around his little brother. He put his chin on top of Sam's head and whispered quietly, "don't worry Sam, soon this will all be over. I'll get to those bastards and this nightmare will end."

'At least, I hope so,' Dean added in his mind. Sam gave a content sigh and snuggled closer to his big brother feeling a lot safer and less scared of the dark.

So here's the first chapter to my new story from my series 'While You Were Gone'. As promised it is going to be about Dean hunting and hurting some evil SOBs of the human variety.

Sorry for it being so short but I'll try to put the second chapter up soon.

Hope you liked.