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Quite some time had passed without Marcus returning and Dean thought maybe it was night and Marcus wouldn't be back until morning, though the fact that Sam was still unconscious might have something to do with it – Marcus usually waited until Sam woke up. Either way, Dean figured it had to have been at least twelve hours since they had woken up the first time, and who knew how long before that. Dean could feel his eyelids getting heavy, but he fought the urge to fall asleep – not willing to take his eyes of his brother. He convinced himself that if he fell asleep he would truly be abandoning Sam, and that was unacceptable.

Sam hadn't moved in hours. Sometimes Dean would panic when he was sure that Sam had stopped breathing, but then Sam would moan quietly or cough, and Dean would let out a relieved breath and go back to watching the tiny rise and fall of Sam's chest. From his place on the floor, he looked over the cuts and bruises on Sam's body as best he could. It seemed that Mandy really did know what she was doing, because even though Sam looked like absolute hell, none of the wounds looked like they would be immediately life-threatening. If Dean could just find a way to get Sam to a hospital, he would be fine. Don't get your hopes up the voice in his head berated. You're not strong enough to get Sam out of this.

The twist-your-wrist-until-the-rope-loosens-or-your-hands-fall-off plan didn't seem to be going well, and Dean wouldn't be surprised if the latter happened long before the rope itself gave away. What the hell kind of rope was this anyway? Dean wondered angrily. The frustration was adding to his fatigue, and the weight on his eyelids became almost painful. He reluctantly let his eyes slide closed. Just for a second, he told himself. I can think better with my eyes closed.

You're worthless, the nagging voice responded, and Dean felt himself being pulled under by sleep. That's right, the voice echoed in his head. Just give up. There's nothing you can do.

"Dean?"

Someone was calling his name, but Dean was tired and cold and thirsty and very uncomfortable, and he decided that he just couldn't be bothered to be awake at the moment.

"Dean!" The voice called again, louder this time, and Dean recognized it as Sam's voice.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean grumbled, but something wasn't right. Sam didn't sound right. His voice was weak and raspy. Dean's eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright when he remembered where he was and what was happening. "Sammy?"

Sam was awake, looking tired and frustrated and for all the world like he was going to pass out again at any second. Dean scolded himself for falling asleep.

"You okay?" Sam asked quietly, voice tired and hoarse.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, Sam. I'm fine. You're the one we should be worried about. Are you okay?" Dean could hear the pain in every breath Sam took, and he knew without a doubt that his brother was not okay.

Sam was quiet for a moment, then answered, "I've been better."

"Yeah, you've looked better." Dean said, attempting to lighten the situation with humor, but knowing that he failed miserably. Nothing about this was funny in the slightest, "Sam, how tight are your ropes? I can't get mine to budge. Can you loosen yours?"

Sam wiggled for a moment before saying, "I don't know. They're pretty tight, but I can try."

Dean nodded and looked around the room, but there was nothing to see. His muscles ached from lack of movement, but he felt guilty even thinking about his aches and pains. His minor discomfort was nothing compared to how Sam must be feeling. Sammy. Dean didn't know what to say to Sam. Nothing would make this better, nothing would help. Dean was at a loss.

Somewhere in the dark corners of the room, a heavy door was shut loudly and Dean heard the steady rhythm of approaching footsteps. "No, no, no." Dean whispered, and Sam tensed. Mandy came into the light and Dean let out a small, shaky breath when he realized it wasn't Marcus.

Mandy was silent as she carried a bottle of water to Sam and poured it slowly into his mouth, letting him take his time and drink as much as he wanted. He finished three quarters of the bottle before taking a breath, and Mandy smiled sadly at him before moving to Dean. She pulled out a fresh bottle and held it for Dean as he drank.

"Mandy." Dean said when she pulled the bottle away. "Listen, I can get you anything you want. We need your help." Dean wasn't sure what he meant by anything you want. It's not like she was robbing a bank and demanding money or a helicopter, and even if she were, Dean would have still been screwed. In reality, there wasn't much Dean could get the girl, but he had no other hope of getting Sam out alive. At this point, he was desperate and willing to say anything.

Mandy quirked an eyebrow at Dean's offer. "Dean, I'm sorry. I really am." She turned to look at Sam. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"If you're sorry, let us go." Dean said. "You don't need to do this. Why are you doing this?"

"Marcus is my uncle." Mandy turned her gaze to the ground. "You help out your family."

"Not like this." Dean objected. "You don't help your family murder innocent people. We never did anything. We didn't hurt your cousin, and your uncle is wrong about my brother." Dean's eyes met Mandy's and he saw tears glistening in them. Was he getting through to her? Could they really be that lucky? "Mandy..." He said softly, cautiously.

She stood up suddenly, her fists clenched tightly and jaw set. Dean didn't know what he had said, but she was suddenly angry. "I can't help you." She said sternly, as if she were scolding a child, then quickly turned and left.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed loudly.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam whispered.

Dean almost didn't hear it. He wasn't sure if Sam meant for him to hear it. "Sorry about what?"

"It's my fault we're here." Sam dropped his head. "It's my fault Mom died, and Jess, and probably Dad too, and now you."

"I'm not dead, Sam. And nothing's your fault. You are not a bad person. You aren't going dark side. These people are just crazy."

Sam didn't answer, and Dean considered what he could possibly say to his brother to make him feel better. This wasn't right. Sam was supposed to be angry at him for lying. Not that Dean wanted Sam to be mad, but it would be better than this. Instead of anger, Dean only saw defeat in his brother's eyes.

Footsteps echoed once again between the walls and Dean felt his heart accelerate. It wasn't Mandy, he could tell. The steps were loud and determined, too heavy to be the small girl.

"Sam." Dean said hastily, but words couldn't help Sam now, and either way, Dean didn't know what to say. Instead, he just repeated his brother's name. "Sammy."

Marcus came into view carrying a rope. More ropes? Dean thought. Jesus, they were never going to be able to break loose. But his mind screamed warnings at him. This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong.

"Morning, boys." Marcus bellowed. "Sleep well?" He chuckled at his own joke and turned to face Sam, rope in hand. "And how are you, Sam? All patched up I see. Looks like you'll live long enough for me to finish the job." Marcus winked and Sam cringed.

Marcus unraveled the rope, and Dean noticed that it was quite short. All of Dean's red flags were up, sirens were sounding in his head. This is bad and this is wrong and this is it. Marcus threw the rope over Sam's head and grabbed on to the either end. "You know how my boy died?" Marcus said thoughtfully. "He was hung."

Dean's heart dropped.

Marcus pulled the rope tight around Sam's throat, effectively cutting off his air supply. Sam choked and gasped and finally just opened his mouth in an attempt to suck in air. His hands clenched and unclenched desperately against the arms of the chair. His eyes were wide and afraid and focused on Dean.

"No!" Dean yelled. "Oh god, no." This was it, and Dean knew it. Marcus' son died from hanging, and now Marcus was going to kill Sam by strangling him. Sam's eyes lost their focus and stared through Dean at nothing. His struggling slowed and his mouth opened wider as he tried to pull in a breath.

"Please!" Dean begged, each word saturated with desperation. "Please, Marcus, don't."

At the last second, Marcus loosened the rope around Sam's neck and Sam gasped in a long, ragged breath before dropping his head and erupting into a violent coughing fit. Dean blinked in surprise. Before Sam had a chance to catch his breath, or Dean had a chance to be thankful his brother was still alive, Marcus tightened the rope again, only to loosen it just before Sam lost consciousness.

He repeated this once, twice, three times. On the third time, when Marcus loosened the rope, Sam's head dropped forward and Dean waited. He heard no desperate gasp for air. Sam wasn't breathing.

"No!" Dean choked on the word, tears stinging his eyes.

"Damn it." Marcus growled.

Dean watched in horror as Marcus tipped Sam's chair back and proceeded to beat on Sam's chest with his fist.

"Breathe, Sammy." Dean whispered. "Please. Breathe."

Long seconds passed and Sam didn't breathe. Tears flooded Dean's eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks as he watched his brother's still form. Sam was gone. He was dead. Marcus killed him. Dean dropped his chin to his chest and cried. "Sammy." He mumbled through the tears.

An audible gasp broke the silence and Dean's head snapped up to Sam. He was unconscious, but he was breathing. He was alive. Dean involuntarily let out a strange relieved sound. Marcus dragged Sam and the chair back up to sitting position, and then set the rope on the table and stared at Sam. Dean was confused – he was elated that Sam was alive, but he had thought for sure this was it. Instead, Marcus looked frustrated and upset.

"I'll be back." Marcus snapped. "This ends today." And he turned and left the room.

"Sammy?" Dean called, but Sam didn't respond. "Sam!" Dean dropped his head in defeat.

Dean watched Sam's chest intently as the time passed painfully slow. Just as Sam finally began to wake up, footsteps alerted Dean to Marcus' return and the rock in Dean's stomach turned to solid ice as Marcus stepped into the light, holding a bottle clearly marked with a sticker indicating that whatever was inside was poison. Nick followed close behind with a shotgun and a smug look on his face.

"Wake up!" Marcus slapped Sam across the face and Sam squeezed his eyes shut against the cruel awakening before opening them and squinting first at Marcus, then looking to Dean. Dean returned the gaze hoping that, if nothing else, he could at least offer Sam the comfort of knowing he was there. Marcus unscrewed the top of the bottle and Sam's eyes widened.

"What the hell is that?" Dean demanded, but Marcus ignored him.

"Sam, I need you to drink this." Marcus said calmly, and put the bottle to Sam's mouth. Sam pressed his lips into a thin, tight line and turned his head away from the poison. Marcus tried again. "If you don't drink this, Nick is going to shoot your brother."

Nick raised the shotgun and Sam's gaze snapped back to Dean, fear in his eyes.

"Don't listen to them, Sam. Don't –" Dean's words were cut off when Nick slammed the butt of the rifle in to his stomach. Dean grunted and recoiled from the pain.

"No!" Sam croaked, his voice raw from the choking. "No..."

Dean heard the resignation in Sam's voice and he turned back to his brother. "Don't you do it, Sam."

Nick cocked the gun and Sam cried out again. "Wait!" He begged. "Please. I'll do it."

"Sam, don't you dare." Dean pleaded.

Sam's eyes locked onto Dean's as he parted his lips for the bottle, and Marcus brought the bottle to Sam's mouth.

"No, Sam! Don't do this! They're going to kill me anyway! SAMMY!" Dean cried frantically, but Sam refused to listen to reason with a shotgun pointing at his brother's head, and Dean watched in horror as Marcus tilted the bottle and poured the poison into Sam's mouth. Sam swallowed twice and then choked and began coughing violently. "SAM! NO!" Dean screamed, but it was too late.

It seemed to be only seconds before Sam's coughing turned into gasping as he tried to suck in air, but Dean couldn't be sure how fast time was passing. Sam squeezed his eyes closed and banged his head against the back of the chair, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Dean cried. He was sitting there helplessly as his brother died right in front of his eyes. Marcus grinned and took a step back.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out and vibrated between the walls of the warehouse, and Nick spun where he was standing before dropping to the ground, a puddle of red blood quickly forming around his lifeless body.

Marcus quickly pulled a handgun from the waistband of his jeans and turned toward the sound of the gunshot. The shooter was behind Dean, out of his line of sight, but whoever it was intimidated Marcus. Dean saw the fear register on Marcus' face, and he raised the gun and aimed it at Dean. Dean closed his eyes and waited.

Another gunshot rang out and Dean opened his eyes when he didn't feel the pain. Marcus was on the floor holding his shoulder. He quickly rebounded and ran out of the warehouse before the shooter could get off another shot. Dean felt the handle of a knife being pressed into his hands, and seconds later a gruff looking man with a beard and a baseball cap stepped into Dean's view.

"Bobby." Dean breathed, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. "Bobby, get Sam!"

Dean began sawing through his thick ropes and Bobby went immediately to Sam, who was unconscious and struggling to breathe.

"Jesus." Bobby whispered.

The knife broke through Dean's ropes and he jumped up and ran to Sam, ignoring the numbness in his legs from sitting in one position for so long. "Come on, Bobby!" He shouted impatiently and both men began cutting through Sam's ties. Dean worked quickly and watched in horror as Sam's breathing became more and more shallow, until each breath was only a tiny audible gasp. Finally, they cut the last restraint and Sam slumped forward into Dean's arms.

"Help me!" Dean ordered, linking his arms under Sam's armpits and pulling him out of the chair. "They poisoned him. We need to get him to a hospital now."

Bobby didn't argue as he wrapped his arms around Sam's legs and led the way out of the building to where his car was parked outside. Dean set Sam's shoulders gently in the back seat and then rushed around to the other side to pull him the rest of the way in. He crawled in next to his brother as Bobby got in the driver's door and sped away from the warehouse.

Dean kept two fingers pressed firmly to Sam's neck, feeling for a pulse as he brushed the hair out of his brother's face and whispered comforting words to him. "You're going to be okay, Sammy. Bobby saved us. We're going to the hospital. You're going to be okay." Sam's pulse was weak and faltering, but there, and the quick gasps of air let Dean know that he was still breathing. Sam's long limbs were crammed awkwardly into the too-small back seat, and his muscles were tight and rigid.

It was all so wrong. Sam wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to die here. Not now, not like this. He was supposed to finish college, become a lawyer, marry Jess, have babies. He was supposed to have a life. Dean felt crushing guilt as he remembered the night he went to Stanford and convinced Sam to come with him. We have to find Dad, he said. I can't do this alone, he told him. If he had only just left Sam there, never gone to Stanford in the first place... but now Dad was dead and Sam was quickly slipping out of Dean's grasp, and then he would be left with no one. With nothing. Look out for Sammy. The voice in his head mocked him. Yeah, he had done a great job at that.

"How far?" Dean demanded

"About ten miles."

Sam exhaled a long, drawn out breath and then his chest fell still. "Shit!" Dean growled. "Bobby, hurry!"

Bobby pressed the accelerator to the floor and Dean pinched Sam's nose and breathed into his brother's mouth. Sam's chest barely rose with each of Dean's forceful breaths, and Dean didn't know if it would be enough. He prayed that ten miles wasn't too far.


dun dun dun.

Holy crap you guys. The finale Friday night? I won't say anything because some people might not have seen it yet, but wow. I can't wait to see what happens in season 7. Gah, can you imagine if that had been the end? I mean, they wrote that episode before they knew that it was renewed.
It's going to be a long summer.

I'll get the next chapter up as soon as it's finished. Reviews make me happy! (and I need some happiness after Friday night)