Part 2.

Sam.

(one hour gone)

It is dark inside the van they are being transported in but Sam can still hear his brother breathing, can still feel his calming presence despite the panic simmering in his veins. He blindly stretches out his chained together legs and feels them brush against Dean's. His brother doesn't move, doesn't make a sound, but ever so subtly leans his own chained legs into the contact.

Every other sound is drowned out by the engine, Sam is fast to become panicky and breathless in the blackness surrounding them. His eyes blink quickly but he still can't see anything, he doesn't know how Dean is feeling but he's almost sure this must be what being buried alive feels like.

His fingers clench forcefully around the thick hem of his coat and he can hear the chains beginning to shake with his nervous tremble. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes closed as he tries to breath slower, tries to think of Dean, thinks of the president they saved and hopefully America alongside him.

He shivers thinking of the bunker, the impala, their homes. He thinks of Mary adrift and alone in this strange new world, thinks of Cas, oblivious and loyal and fierce as a guard dog. Can't picture either of them doing terribly well without Sam and Dean there for them.

And his brother, oh god, he thinks as even his brain is starting to short circuit now. Dean can't survive like this, can't live locked up. His wonderful brother needs the wind in his face, the freedom to choose to do the right thing, the tarmac to show Baby off on.

He's feeling the darkness and the walls to the van smothering and suffocating him as he realizes he and Dean may never be free again...how were they ever supposed to get out of this one?

"Sammy."

It comes unexpectedly out of the darkness all around him. It breaks through his panic as easily as a warm knife through soft butter, the sound of it blankets over him soothingly, fills his insides with quiet and hope and...I'm here, Sammy...not leaving you, we're gonna be just fine.

He knows no response is expected just lets himself quieten under the echoes of Dean's voice calling his name in his ears. Begins to steel himself for what's coming as the vehicle stops throwing them roughly against the walls.

The sharp sound of the doors being unlocked and opened grate on his ears, sunlight sears into his eyes and lowers his head to hide from it. Hands on his arms dragging him from the van and hears Dean huffing in annoyance somewhere close by, followed by scrambling boots and a grunt of pain.

"Sam..."

He opens his eyes the sun fading from his eyesight as he zeros in on his brother's form flattened in the sand with a large guard kneeing him in the back. The husky breaths wheezing from his mouth let Sam know his brother has already been clued into the fact that he's not supposed to fight...and that they are going to be separated.

"Dean!" He makes out throwing his body weight towards Dean's figure just before he's gifted with a punch in his stomach. He gasps, leaning over with the shock of it, mouth open seeking air that his body is refusing to take right now.

Two guards each take an arm and drag him away from Dean, who is still lying in the dirt, and inside a building as he fruitlessly fights through the breathlessness. He goes limp as a door slams behind them, an official barrier between he and his brother. No fight, no reason to fight without Dean.

...

(three hours gone)

People have talked to him, tried to softly bribe him into spilling his guts with fake kindness. They take his clothes and personal affects after they see his lips are stubbornly sealed, shoving an impersonal green-grey pair of overalls at him to put on...effectively stripping him of his identity.

He finds his mind slipping and wandering, already seeking an escape from this rather cruel reality. He thinks of Dean, what is he doing right now? Has he been treated the same way as Sam? He thinks about Cas and their mom, have they missed them yet? No way. Because Cas wouldn't start missing them until tomorrow morning and it would take Mary much, much longer than that.

He sighs as he's pushed and pulled out several doors and walkways until they're standing in a long dim hallway. And thank you god, Dean is there. His brother, with his sparkling, expressive free eyes, the sharp features that bring out the playfulness in most of his words and actions. He's subdued now, but that fond little smirk finds its way to his lips as he catches sight of Sam.

Sam can't help but smile back.

Dean is leaning towards him, reaching a hand to him and Sam's heart jumps into his mouth at the thought of contact, of Dean surrounding him with that warmth and assurance he wants so bad right now. But he knows even before the guards are cruelly jerking his brother away that they won't be allowed and that at this point there was no help for him, no help for Dean.

He so wants to be strong for Dean, wants to fill him with strength and resilience of his own...assure him that Sam can take this, just worry about yourself Dean.

Instead he realizes he's listening to Dean struggle, listening to the pants and desperate grunts that are turning into whimpers as his brother is pushed and boxed into a little cell. And his stomach clenches with fear as he's dragged down the hallway and far from Dean, too far from his brother, god, he's rarely been this far away from the man for the last eleven years.

The natural balance of himself is all thrown off kilter by the separation. He feels wetness in his burning eyes, feels his muscles locking up on their own accord, thin shoes scramble on the floor as he tries to find friction and stop himself moving away from the door Dean has been discarded behind.

"Sam!" He hears his brother cry out, accompanied by what sounds like his brother giving the iron door what for. That's it.

"Dean!" He echoes back, jerks himself from the hands of the guards and rushes back down the hall, he doesn't know what he's going to do, or even what he could do...but he knows he's not going anywhere away from Dean when his brother is alone and panicking.

Sam is jerked back ruthlessly by both arms, he grits his teeth and growls at the two guards pulling him back down the hall.

"No," he gasps out, through sudden breathlessness, "Where are you taking me? Dean!" He calls again as he struggles against the two big men dragging him far...so far from Dean.

"Don't make us use the taser on you, Winchester." One says through clenched teeth, because they might be big, but Sam is one huge guy and he's using his body weight to deter them dragging him away.

One of his arms is dropped and when he tries escape he's thrust into the wall, his arm twisted precariously behind his back. The breath whooshes out of him as his face contacts with the wall and grunts with the pain and surprise of it.

He hears a door grinding and complaining on its hinges and his brain stops working all together as he's carelessly thrown into the shallow depths of a tiny room. He's back at the door in a heartbeat, all his strength and desperate pleading not halting or even slowing the closing iron door.

It slams in his face, solid and without regrets. Heavy breaths move the hair already hanging in his face as he stands and slaps both hands against the unmoving door that means so much for him, and none of it good.

Means no more freedom, means loneliness, means he spends every day wondering where Dean is, is he alright...is he alive? Means he stares at the same four walls everyday, and everyday he feels more and more like he's back in the cage...remembers that trapped feeling, the feeling of despair when he thinks of Dean with uncertainty.

And that's the thing that kills Sam. That eats away at his sanity, that has him teetering so dangerously already on the familiar edge. The not knowing anything. Helpless tears are streaking down his face as he lets out a full bodied, desperate scream at the tall, silent door.

Hands in his hair, turning to look with wide eyes at the small panel of sunlight let into his cell. Listens to the breaths rasp in and out of his body, rubs the wetness of his own tears in between his fingers.

Finds the only words he can murmur over and over again are, "Please don't leave me, Dean...please don't leave me."

And worse is he's not at all sure what he really means. Dean, please don't leave me, or Dean please don't die without me, please don't leave me here alone. And that's the number one fear, the reason why both brothers hate the feeling of helplessness and being separated from each other. Because they don't trust anyone else with the life more precious to them then their own.

So the thought plagues Sam, never going away. His brain wrapped and twisted around the instability and unknowing of his worry and the object of his thoughts and dreams all the time.

Please don't leave me Dean, please don't leave me behind...you haven't yet, right?

...tbc

Hope you guys like!? ;) More coming soon.