The knifed sliced and cut into Sam's flesh, parting it like butter. He screamed out in agony, but no one could hear his screams. He bucked and fought against the restraints, but they didn't give.

"Isn't this fun, Sammy?" the demon said playfully as he stuck the tip of the blade into one of the cuts and turned it, drawing out a cry of pain from Sam.

"Tell me where you're keeping him and I'll end your suffering."

Sam spat out a mouthful of blood and looked up at the demon. "I told you I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't try and tell me you're not hiding him. I saw him with your brother."

"For the last time, I don't know what you're talking about."

And Sam really didn't. He didn't have a clue what this guy was carrying on about. The only guy Dean had even come close to being seen with was the college student from a case they had worked months ago. They had bumped into him on the street the other day. He was clean though. He definitely wasn't anybody a demon would be interested in. Or at least he didn't think so.

The demon circled Sam, humming lightly under his breath. "Where should I cut now, hmm? I could peel the skin from your chest or maybe remove some fingers?"

Sam spat again. "Fuck you."

"Fine, chest it is."

The demon leaned in and placed the knife at the edge of Sam's collarbone and began to cut. Sam threw his head back and cried out.

There was a bang and the demon stopped. He turned on his heel to face the door. Sam tried to look around him to get a better view. What he saw made him nearly cry in relief. Dean was standing in the doorway, demon knife in hand.

He sagged back in his restraints and his head fell. The blood loss was getting to him.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean asked as he walked up to the demon.

Sam raised his head and tried to focus on Dean's voice. "I'm okay."

"He'll be even better when I get done with him," the demon spouted.

Dean shook his head and approached the demon. "You're going to regret the moment you touched a hair on his head."

Dean charged forward, ducking as the demon threw a wild punch, avoiding the blow. He stepped to the side and jabbed the knife into the demon's gut. The demon fell to his knees and then slumped to the floor.

Sam blinked as the blood dripped down his forehead, running into his eyes. It stung.

"Sam," Dean said as he ran to Sam's side. He immediately began to cut away the ropes binding his arms.

Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "It's okay. I'm here now."

"I don't feel so good."

Cupping the back of Sam's head, Dean leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Sam's forehead. "I know, but I'm going to make it better."

Dean hadn't seen torture like this since he'd left hell. If he had been a minute later, Sam would have been dead for sure. His chest was carved up in swirling patterns. There were small patches of skin that lay open, not fully attached. Thankfully, none of them were too deep. It was going to be a lot of work though to stitch him up.

Dean slipped an arm around Sam and then helped lift him to his feet.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's get you out of here."

Dean led him to the car and helped him take a seat. The cuts oozed sluggishly as he jostled his brother around.

When they got back to the motel, Dean helped Sam inside. Once in, Dean walked him over to the bed and guided him back to lie down.

The cuts pulled and made Sam gasp in pain. "It hurts."

"I know, I know," Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "I'm going to make it better though." He gave Sam a chaste kiss on the lips and then quickly went to find the first aid kit and the whiskey. They were out of morphine and Percocet. The only thing he had to ease Sam's pain was alcohol and a few Tylenol, which he suspected wouldn't do much.

Dean carried the supplies back to the bed and sat down on the edge. Sam looked like he was starting to go into shock. "Easy, Sam. Take a sip of this," he said, pressing the cool edge of the whiskey bottle to Sam's lips. "It'll help with the pain."

Sam nodded, trying to lift his head. Dean quickly slipped a hand under Sam's head, cradling it. Sam took a drink with a grimace.

"Little more, Sam," Dean held the bottle back to his lips. Sam took another drink and then closed his eyes. He was feeling tired.

Dean looked down at Sam's chest and tried to decide where to start. The first thing he decided he should do was clean the wounds. Taking out the peroxide, he began to rinse and dab clean each slice.

Sam face twitched in pain, but there was no other movement from him.

Dean got out the needle and thread and began the slow process of stitching the wounds closed. Once he was done, he set the kit aside and climbed up in the bed beside his brother. He was careful how he laid, not wanting to hurt him anymore.

Sam looked over at him with tired eyes. "Thank you."

He brushed the back of his hand over Sam's cheek. "I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner."

Sam shook his head. "Don't do that, Dean. Don't blame yourself."

Dean leaned over and pressed a kiss to Sam's lips. Sam parted his lips, wanting more, but Dean leaned back. "You're hurt." Dean rested a hand gently on Sam's stomach.

Sam closed his eyes. "I'm tired."

"Get some sleep, Sam. I'll be here when you wake."