I would die if I owned Sam and Dean Winchester o-o (mainly Sam XD)

But, sadly I do not...*lesigh*

Anyways...hope you enjoy this! I'll do my best to keep it updated...but not guaranteeing it due to college life ^^;

This takes place directly after the season 3 ep "Sin City"

Supernatural: (C) Erik Kripke!

Dean shuddered violently. But it wasn't from the cold dampness of the cramped, dark pit he was carelessly tossed into that resurfaced his hidden claustrophobia, or from the eeriness of it. No. He shuddered because of what the demons have been filling his mind with, which were terrible lies about his life and his family, more specifically his father and little brother. He had been told while he was being shredded and whipped and taunted that his father, John, had never loved him at all and that he had blamed him for being sent to Hell. The demons had also told Dean that Sammy hated his guts and that their mother and Jessica had died because of him. Dean was even told that he was utterly worthless and weak and couldn't amount to anything. Dean knew all of this was true. Or at least, that was what he was lead to believe.

"Having fun yet, Dean-o?" hissed a sneering voice directly into his left ear.

He grunted through the tape that was plastered over his mouth and was stretched across his entire lower jaw from ear to ear, kept in place by a filthy rag that was tied tightly around his head. The rough rope that bound his hands behind his back were seriously chafing his wrists, leaving tiny rivulets of blood to slowly ooze from beneath them. More rope was tied across his chest and around the old chair he was sitting on, keeping him in a painfully upright position that made his cracked ribs protest. His ankles were tied to the legs of the chair.

There was no way he was going to escape, not with his amalgam of wounds and fifty plus demons stationed throughout wherever he was being held captive and tortured.

"You know, your brother says he's coming for you, but how certain can you be that his word is his honor?" A female demon with stringy black hair that matched her soulless eyes crouched down beside him, lustfully stroking the side of his face. Dean shuddered involuntarily at the contact, trying to hold back the tears that he's fought to hold in since the first lies were thrown at him.

"Sammy doesn't give a crap about you," continued the demon, now stroking his sweat and blood soaked short-cropped hair. "He hated you for taking him away from his normal , peaceful life at Standford and bringing him back into this nightmare. He'd rather see you dead!"

Dean couldn't hold back the tears anymore. They flowed from his eyes as this realization sunk in, his sobs being muffled by the gag. He found it more difficult to breathe now as he was on the verge of hyperventilating, the gag not helping at all.

"Awwww, shhhh...don't cry, Deanie," the demon said with false comfort, now crouching before him and taking his trembling face into her slender hands. "You won't have to worry about Sam being disappointed in you any longer. I can make all this pain go away in an instance."

The demon slowly reached into her boot and pulled out a knife with a gleaming five inch blade that was blood-stained, evidence that this particular demon had tortured more unfortunate souls long before she had set her sights on Dean. She then looked longfully at the blade before looking up at Dean's tearful eyes.

"Just a few precise cuts will end all of this. I promise you!" The demon whispered into Dean's ear, kissing it.

Dean was trembling violently by now. He didn't want to believe the harsh words the demon was telling him. Part of his mind was screaming at him, telling him that she was just being what all demons were: manipulative, untrustworthy and untruthful and that Sammy loved him a lot and would literally sacrifice his life for him. But the other part of his mind was soaking up every lie like a sponge in water. It crushed his hopes. It also made the fact that he had sold his soul for his baby brother seem worthless. Sam had said that he was trying everything he could to save his big brother from that horrible deal. But he was getting nowhere fast, and he would never.

He closed his eyes as more tears streamed out and let out a shaky, wheezy breath through his nose. He then looked over at the demon and nodded, giving her the permission to proceed. The demon smiled venomously and stood up, twirling the knife expertly in her hand before leaning down over Dean.

"You do know that there is no turning back at this point, right, Dean?"

Dean grunted through the gag again and nodded. A look of surrender flashed across his eyes. He was ready to let go of his Hellish life and leave behind the only family he had left and had fought tooth and nail for in order to protect him like he had most of his harsh life since he was basically four years old.

But what was the point now?

"Alright, Dean. If this is what you wish." The demon sneered, moving behind him.

She then set the tip of the blade on the flesh of Dean's left wrist, just below the rope. She then sliced across it.

Dean gasped at the sting as she cut deep. Soon, he felt something warm and liquid-like flow down his bound wrists and hands, dripping onto the cold concrete floor. His blood. His life. The demon's cold smirk widened as she did the same to his right wrist before standing back up and walking around to face Dean once more, holding the knife that was now coated in fresh blood.

Dean stared at the knife and the red substance that dripped slowly from it with eyes that were just beginning to blur. He began to feel lightheaded and weak.

"Just a few more minutes, Dean. Then you'll be free."

Dean felt his consciousness fade more swiftly now and more and more blood seeped from the cuts.

Just before he succumbed to the greedy darkness that clouded his mind, he had thought he heard a voice call out to him.

"Sam? No. It's not Sam. He doesn't care about you. This is just a figment of your imagination. Starting to feel tired now...not feeling so well...going...sleep now"

Then blackness.

"DEAN!"