The Plantation House.

Summary. . . . . . . . . Missing teens, an old slave plantation, what could possibly go wrong? Dean's about to find out as the brother's take on a hunt he was reluctant to pursue. Hurt Sam and Dean.

Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only playing in Kripkies toy box.

A.N. . . . . . . . . Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, added to favs, or alerts. I hope that you find chapter 2 just as enjoyable. Peanut x

Dean rattled the cage harder, his hands pulling for all he was worth at the confines, as Sam's screams of agony rent through the air, the cries clashing with his own angry shouts to echo noisily around the otherwise cold, still and silent room. He shouted louder, anything to drown out the vicious sound of the whip attacking flesh, and his brother's whimpered cries and grunts as he finally lost the strength to scream any longer, as the pain took hold and he fell into blessed unconsciousness; Dean's own shouts still ringing out though, as the overseer refused to stop even after Sam had passed out, the man carrying on his brutal assault on his completely defenseless, and unresponsive captive; enjoying the pain his strikes caused the other. Finally after what seemed like hours to Dean, the punishment stopped. His ears attuned, making up for the fact his eyes were blinded by the darkness, Dean became alert as faint noises caught his attention, the sound of rope brushing against rope, before a scraping signaled it the whip had been stored again. Worn leather scuffing across dirt as the man returned to where Dean believed Sam to be. A clink of chain again metal. A thud as something heavy impacted with the floor,. The dragging of something heavy. A snick of a lock catching. So caught was he, trying to figure out what the sounds meant, he failed to notice the air get chillier until the overseer face was mere millimeters from his own, the sneering grin plastered beneath eyes that held nothing but sadism and cruelty.

"I told ya I'd make ya pay fer ya words. I think I'll wait awhile fer seconds though, wouldn't wanna kill the boy off too soon." He allowed the words to sink in, soaking in the anger and rage and guilt that rose from Dean as they did so." Bringing up the rod he had taken from it's place on the wall, he slammed it hard into Dean's cheekbone, quivering with excitement as he heard the fragile bone snap beneath his assault, and watched as his captives eyes began to roll back into his head. "I'll go fer now boy, but I'll allow ya some comfort, I'll leave a candle burning fer ya to see what's become of ya partner." Dean attempted to stay awake as he listened to the man's words, the need to see his brother's almost overpowering the hurt, but the blow had stunned him too much and the pain was agonizing and as he witnessed the room start to lighten, his eyes began to close, unconsciousness claiming him.

He dreamed of simpler times, happier times; times when he laughed, when his brother laughed; times when cuts, bumps and bruises were fixed by band aids, snuggles and comfort. Those times were long since gone though, replaced by hurried repair jobs made in flea ridden motel rooms, or the back seat of the Impala with blankets strewn across the leather to preserve the seats. As the pain and the discomfort began to return now though, Dean wished those times would return again. He shifted as best he could within the limits of his prison, his hand moving sluggishly to paw at his busted cheek, the digits moving more slowly, tenderly, after he prodded too hard and causing his features to scrunch up in pain. He lay still, as his stomach began to slosh and roll, breathing calmly through his mouth as his stuffed up nose prevented breathing through it. The remnants of the memories he had just dreamt, prevented him for a second from remembering where he was, and who he was with. Sam.

He sat up quickly, the room spinning wildly as the pain increased in his head, his eyes scanning the less gloomy room, the candle he could see flickering on the workbench casting light, but doing little to ease the shadows. Turning his face towards where he remembered seeing the shackles attached to the wall, Dean wailed as he glimpsed his brother limp form, Sam so still Dean thought for a moment he was dead. Hanging from the shackles suspended so high his toes were barely touching the floor. His clothes were drenched in his blood and sweat, his shirt barely more than a rag draped across his torso. His head drooped to his chest, hair plastered to his scalp and hanging loosely over his eyes, hiding them from Dean's sight. Rents and slashes covered his upper body and arms, even seen through tears in his jeans in places. The blood still seeping lazily from the wounds, the only sign Dean had that Sam still lived. But it wasn't enough, he had to see Sam awake.

Digging deeply into his pockets, Dean withdrew the handful of change that nestled there. Scuttling closer to the edge of the cage, he reached through the bars and one by one began to lob the small coins at his brother, praying each time, as the pile grew smaller and smaller, that this time the hit would awaken Sam; the pile getting down to two before his brother finally shifted, his cry of pain echoing loudly in the stillness.

"Sam? Sam?" Dean shouted as he watched Sam lift his head, concerned when he didn't respond to his calls. "Sammy!?"

Sam woke slowly, the agony resonating throughout his body willing him to stay in the dark where it was warm and pain free, but small yet painful pings of his head kept preventing him from falling back into oblivion. He raised his head, hoping that he could find the source of his discomfort, and looked with glassy eyes, eyes that were filled with pain, around the dimly lit room, distress etching his features as at first he could find no sign of his brother. "Dean? Deeeeeeaaaaannnnn!" He shouted, his own feeble struggles increasing as he heard nothing, not one sound.

"Sammy? Look at me. I'm here, over here." Dean's anxiousness increased as Sam still continued to gaze wildly about the basement, yet not seeming to catch him within the cage, and ignoring his calls. What the hell? Using one of the coins again, he threw it harder at his brother, finally able to achieve what his calls hadn't, as Sam's gaze turned and landed on him, a weary, pained yet happy smile briefly crossing his lips.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam asked.

Dean laughed at his brother's ability to always concern himself with others when he was bleeding slowly. "I'm fine Sam." He answered, not missing the confusion that marred his siblings face as he spoke.

"Dean! Dean, I can't hear you. Dean, what's happening?" He replied, his head turning more allowing his sibling to finally see the blood that was still dribbling from a wound hidden beneath the mop that he called hair.

"Shit!" He cursed the expletives worsening as realization hit. Sam had been hit. Sam had been hit hard, and judging from the bruises that were forming, been hit with the rod the overseer loved to rattle across his cage. "You stinking lily livered bastard!" He yelled before turning his attention back to Sam, who he was saddened to see had shrunk at his outburst, unable to hear the words but registering his brother's anger, and feeling somehow it was his fault. "Sam. . . . . . . ." He just managed to get out before the room began to chill once more, a signal to Dean that the spirit was back. "I'm going to kill you for what you've done, you cowardly piece of crap."

"Still mouthin' ya trap I see. What's say we see if we can shut ya up fer a bit shall we? But first, seein' as ya love at talk, what should I's use on ya partner this time? A chain? Should I choke 'im until he passes? Or a knife? Rip it into the juicy flesh until 'e screeches like a woman?"

"You leave him alone. Do you hear me? Leave him alone!"

"You's in no position to be talkin' like that at me boy. Ya will learn ya place son, and I's be the one at teach ya. Let this be lesson number two." Picking up the chain, he started to walk to where Sam hung, only to stop as though in thought. Looking back Dean's way, he added. "I think it only fitting me an ya partner do this in private, but ya can listen." Blowing out the candle he plunged the room back into darkness, leaving Dean to listen once more to Sam's screams as he began to cut into his body. The last thing he saw, his brother's scared and begging eyes, burnt into his mind.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . .

A.N. . . . . . . . As always thanks for stopping by and reading, will be back soon with an update, Peanut x