When Ruby popped in three days later and announced that she'd found him, she wasn't smiling. In fact, she looked sick and anxious for them to move fast. Like Dean hadn't already been packed and waiting: the useless search he and Bobby had done concerning his mysterious reappearance hadn't been enough to occupy his mind.

They flew out of the yard in the Impala (the car Sam had left behind, covered with a tarp, all of Dean's things still in there and god Dean needed to get to that kid) to an empty warehouse six hours away in the middle of Iowa. It was night by the time they got there, and they parked behind another building, covering the car with the dusty old tarp again. Dean gave her one thoughtful pat, a promise to clean her up and get her running smooth again, but not right now.

There was something more important he needed to save.

Getting in was sort of easy, too: there wasn't anyone outside on the first floor, and certainly no one on the third, up in the beams and rafters. They crawled through the ceiling ducts and into the main storage room, a few crates stacked here and there.

In the middle of the room, a group of people were standing, staring at something Dean couldn't make out. Something on the floor, hidden by several crates. Dean shifted restlessly, and one of the boards creaked. All three of them froze, but they weren't noticed. At least, not for now. Dean let himself breathe again.

Until a young woman stepped into the room, and all the others turned towards her. She moved with confidence and purpose, striding towards what they'd been watching. "We got our orders," she said, her voice echoing in the hollow room. "We can finally put this all to rest."

Hoots and hollers filled the room, and she stepped back, letting two large men come forward. Dean craned forward as best he could to see what they were doing, but couldn't get anything. When he heard the cry of pain, though, everything stopped. He knew that voice, knew how much pain there had to be for that sound to come out.

Sam.

Another second later, and Bobby inhaled sharply as they hauled a body, Sam, out into the open. He was being dragged, head hung low without any strength to lift it. He left a trail of dark liquid on the cement, his entire body shaking violently, blood glistening in the poor light of the warehouse, and Dean felt like hurling. A hand curled around his arm, though it felt as unsteady as Dean did. Bobby. He gripped it back and waited, even as Ruby tensed beside him.

Dean couldn't see what they were doing; something with Sam's arms. A moment later, he heard something like chains rattling, and Sam was lifted off the floor, arms spread-eagled as he was pulled up. He screamed then, the sound gurgling off at the end as he went higher and higher and higher, until he was just below the height of the rafters. The chain sound stopped, and he was left suspended, legs flailing slightly in the air.

The woman stared with a predatory smirk on her face. "The Boy King," she spat, before she laughed. "Held above the world, with no one to save him. I'm sure your big brother will come rushing in...well, he would've, if he wasn't burning and screaming right now," she added, and a whimpered sob fell from Sam's lips.

"If I don't get to kill her right now, I swear-" Dean muttered furiously, tears in his eyes. Ruby clamped a hand over his mouth, tight and firm. Dean didn't try to shove her off; if she didn't clamp his voice down, he was going to start screaming and attacking.

"We're leaving," the woman said, heading for the doors. "Lilith finally gave the order for him to die, and it had to be today. Pity; I was really hoping I got to play with the pokers today." She paused, shrugged, then continued on. "Everyone with me: leave him. Let him choke on his own air and blood."

Dean trembled with rage, gripping the metal rail in front of him hard enough to bend it. The doors shut at last, and the only sound left in the room was the labored breathing coming from Sam.

"Move," Bobby hissed, and Ruby slid underneath the metal rail, landing silently on the floor below. She reached up and helped Dean and Bobby down, before pointing in Sam's direction.

"Get to the main floor: I've got to make sure they're gone." She darted off into the shadows, and Dean wasted no more time. He sprinted down the walkway, his chest twinging at the fast motion, but it was ignored. Everything was ignored, except Sam and the path to him.

Dean finally cursed, once he reached the first floor, and jumped over the metal railing, landed on a crate, then the ground. Where had those two imbeciles been when Sam had been raised? There, the chains tied and pinned to the ground, and Dean darted for one. "Bobby?" he called out as quietly as he could. "The other side; the chains."

"Got 'em," Bobby said, and Dean pulled his chain free. Sam lurched slightly in the air and gave a pained moan. Another small lurch as Bobby's side was freed, and then the older hunter whispered, "Go."

Together the two eased Sam down towards the ground, until the chains were almost beyond Dean's reach. Sam was only a few feet from the ground then, but Dean didn't dare let go to get him down.

"I've got it, go," Ruby said suddenly to his left, and Dean jumped, glaring at her for a moment, before she took the chain from his hand. Dean hurried over to his brother, trying to gaze up into his face. Eyes tightly closed were all he could see, besides the stream of tears down his face. He looked gaunt, pale, sick almost. Miserable. Grieving.

When his eyes opened at Dean's touch at his wrist, the grief and misery increased. Dean frowned, completely baffled. "Sammy?"

"Please don't," Sam begged, voice breaking, and Dean couldn't have been more confused if he'd wanted to. "D-Don't...don't be him. Be anyone else, just...just don't be him."

Confusion gave way to realization, and Dean's stomach twisted impossibly further. "Sammy, it's me. I don't know how, but it's me, I swear dude." One wrist free, and Sam tried to muffle his pained whimper. "Not a shifter. It's me."

Sam's eyes closed tightly, but not tight enough to keep the tears from trailing. He turned his face away, letting his unruly, far too long hair hang in his face. "I...I can't..." he whispered on a sob.

His other wrist was freed, and Dean caught him before he could free fall past Dean's embrace. A choked sob that sounded too much like a scream was pulled from Sam, muscles locking even after the short amount of time he'd hung there.

And Dean had no idea what the hell they'd done to him before they'd shown up. Three weeks missing. Pokers.

He felt sick. He wanted to be sick, wanted this nightmare and thoughts to be purged from his system with it, but it wasn't going to happen. He needed to be here for Sam.

When Sam flinched from his touch, keened in grief as he tried to talk to him, and silently sobbed when they carried him out and into the Impala, Dean wondered for the first time if he wasn't really dead still, and that this was Hell, after all.