"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM!"

Dean felt his heart nearly give out when he saw the way the man-Ryan he presumed-was straddling Sam's waist, revolver aimed at Sam's chest. He felt the rage rise when he saw the small incisions that marred Sam's face, the noticeable abrasions underneath the rope and handcuffs wrapped tightly around his wrists and ankles, the black eye, and other things Sam should not have on him. More specifically the man on top of him.

Dean caught Sam's gaze, giving him a look that spoke volumes.

Are you okay Sammy?

Sam's weary eyes-mainly the one that wasn't swollen-searched Dean, and Dean couldn't help but smile a bit when he deduced that Sam was more worried about how Dean's welfare was rather than his own, even though Sam was the one in trouble. He also caught a glimpse of something else in his brother's gaze.

Hope.

"Looks like your brother decided to join in the fun," Ryan said to the man underneath him. Sam, more than relived to see his brother safe and unharmed unlike him, suddenly felt his injuries catch up to him. His head rolled away from Dean, eyes fluttering shut.

Dean unaware of his actions, moved his aim until it lined up where the man's leg was, his stance unwavering as he spoke.

"Get off of my brother or your legs go first."

Ryan flashed a grin at Sam, seeing how the young man's injuries were finally making themselves noticed, before climbing off of the youngest Winchester and moved away from the bed. He held his hands up, a shit-eating grin on his face as he studied Dean Winchester.

Dean looked over at his brother and felt his own heart break when he saw some of the bruises and cuts littering his brother's body that had been hidden when the man was on top of him. He then looked over at Bobby, who's gun was targeting the man as well.

"Bobby, get Sam out of here. I need to give someone a lesson as to why Samnapping is the biggest mistake they can make in their miserable life."

Bobby nodded and ran over to the bed Sam was on. He put his gun in his pocket and started working on freeing Sam.

"Hey Sam it's just me it's okay your gonna be okay boy," Bobby reassured when Sam let out a muffled whimper, eyes scrunched shut in what Bobby believed to be in pain. He saw Sam's chest rise and fall quickly, too quick for him to take proper breaths. Bobby grabbed the edge of the tape, sympathy coating his eyes and tone when he spoke to the man. "I'm sorry Sam but this will hurt for a second."

Bobby quickly ripped the tape off, wincing when he saw Sam's torn and bruised lips. Knowing that he had to get Sam out before he could witness what his brother had in store for the man, Bobby began picking the the handcuffs. He cringed in sympathy when he noticed the way Sam's wrist was unnaturally twisted.

"Balls," Bobby muttered when he came to the conclusion that Sam's wrist was broken. He looked at Sam, whose eyes were still scrunched shut. He was twisting in his bonds, as if he was trying to get away from the nightmare he had been in for too long.

"So, Dean Winchester, the man of legend himself," Ryan said, staring down the man as if Dean didn't have a gun pointing right at him or, worse, a hurt little brother. "Does anyone else know about how you fuck your own flesh and blood? How you enjoy whoring around with the man you're practically a father to? It sickens me."

Dean didn't respond to the man's words. Instead, he tilted his gun down and pulled the trigger. The man fell to the floor with a howl, holding the leg that had a bullet painfully lodged in his knee.

Bobby glanced over at the man on the floor before attending to Sam again. He carefully cut the rope wrapped around Sam's neck, cursing the man who did this when he saw the deep welts and bruises around his neck. Bobby realized Sam had to have struggled hard for the rope to chafe his neck as badly as it was. He was surprised Sam was still breathing. The scattered cuts on his body weren't any better. Although some were just scratches or small incisions, others looked deeper, blood dried up around it. At least three of them looked infected as well. He couldn't help but grimace when he saw small, circular burn marks covering his chest and legs.

"Damn," he swore and started cutting the rope off Sam's ankles.

When Bobby finally cut the last piece of rope off Sam's ankles, freeing him, he was surprised by the sudden kick to his chest that nearly knocked the older man over.

"NO!" Sam yelled. Bobby quickly recovered from the sudden attack in time to avoid Sam's long legs from hitting him again. Bobby noticed how Sam's eyes were still scrunched shut as he blindly kicked his legs out, trying to hit who Bobby believed was Ryan.

"Sam it's me, Bobby." He ducked, missing Sam's attempt to kick his face. Bobby gently but firmly grabbed Sam by the ankles, preventing the man from trying to kick him. "Stop you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Sam's mind was a whirlwind. He knew he had been taken and that Dean was there with him and his captor but he didn't know why he had brought another hunter to help him. The voice sounded familiar but his mind couldn't place a name or face to it.

"Sam please listen to me; Dean and I are here to rescue you. You're safe now. We won't let him hurt you again."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sam stopped struggling and opened his eye. A cloudy hazel eye searched the older hunter for threats but soon realized it was the man who had came to be their surrogate father.

"B...Bobby?" Sam said, letting out a shaky breath.

"Yeah it's me boy. Dean and I are here to get you out and away from this scum."

Bobby carefully helped the man sit up on the bed, thankful that the bastard at least left Sam's back untouched. He held on to Sam's shoulders when the younger man nearly fell back into the mattress.

"Do you think you can stand up?" he asked. Sam looked up at Bobby and gave Bobby a small nod. With Bobby's help, he managed to pushed off the bed. A wave of vertigo hit the young man and he would have fallen to the floor if Bobby hadn't held onto him.

"I told you your legs were going to go first," Dean said to the man on the floor, holding the wounded knee. He looked over at Bobby, who was trying to help a half-standing half-falling Sam walk. Dean heard the commotion that Sam displayed earlier and his big brother instinct- the one that screams at Dean to run over to Sam and make sure he was okay-had started to kick in, but before he could take care of his brother Dean needed to make sure that Sam's tormentor would never come near him again.

"Bobby please get him out of here." He turned back to the man withering on the floor. "I don't want him to see this."

Bobby nodded, understanding Dean's request. Knowing how Sam must feel uncomfortable being naked in front of him, he wanted to find something to cover Sam up while he brought him to the Impala but the only thing he found was shreds of Sam's shirt and his jeans and boxers. He didn't want to irritate the gashes on Sam's lower body so the jeans were out of the question. Bobby looked around until he found a blanket that didn't seem too dirty or moldy. He grabbed it with one hand, the other supporting Sam, and wrapped the small blanket around him. He noticed the way Sam was sweating even though he was shivering at the same time.

"Make it quick son," Bobby replied. "Sam's not looking so good."

Dean watched as Bobby guided his brother out of the room before he stared down at Ryan. "So, you thought you could abduct my brother, humiliate him, and even attempt to kill him without going through me?" Dean let out a humorless laughed and shook his head. "You made the worst mistake of your life the moment you planned this out."

Dean was taken aback by the laugh that came out of the man.

"I knew you wouldn't let me have my way with him without a fight. That's why I called in some favors," he said.

Dean knelt down and grabbed the man by his shirt, his knuckles turning white.

"What favors?"


They had only traveled down the stars and already Sam felt his body shutting down. He felt his knees began to give out as they reached the last step. Sam let out a grunt and slumped against Bobby.

"Hey Sam you have to stay awake. I won't be able to carry you if you pass out on me." It was times like this that Bobby wished Sam was a foot shorter and a couple pounds lighter. If Sam gave up now, Bobby wouldn't be able to carry Sam alone. If it came to that, then Bobby would have to wait for Dean to help him.

Sam felt weary. The trip down the stairs sapped out what was left of his adrenaline-he was surprised he still had some-and his body felt too hot to be moving. His muscles protested with every step and the lacerations and gashes made themselves known as the two traveled through Sam's prison. Sam could feel some of the ones that started to close up reopen, the blood running down his waist and legs. His head felt like a thousand drummers decided to play as loudly as they could in a small space. He felt dizzy, thirsty and cold and he had the urge to throw up as well.

"Sam do you need a break?" Bobby asked, seeing how the young man was struggling with standing up, let alone walking.

Sam shook his head, hating how that simple movement nearly made him black out.

"Just want to go..." he croaked out, feeling the bile rise in his throat.

Bobby had known the boys for years. Although he's not as good as either brother, he can still read the Winchesters better than they think he can. Years of emergency stitches, broken bones and high fevers prepared Bobby to know the signs of when the men are hurting or sick. So when Sam made a soft heaving noise Bobby took a small step back and rubbed soothing motions around Sam's back as he emptied the meager contents in his stomach.

It took a minute for the reaching to stop. Bobby spared a glance at the pile Sam created, confused how Sam threw up when he believed nothing was in his system-he guessed the bastard wouldn't have fed Sam anything. He quickly examined the pile and cursed when he saw the large specks of blood littering it.

"Alright Sam let's move along we'll get you out of here as soon as Dean is done with the bastard."

"D'n's here?"

Bobby silently swore when he heard the way Sam shortened Dean's name. He was mostly worried by the fact that Sam didn't remember seeing his own brother. Sam must be either concussed or in shock. With their luck, he was probably both concussed and in shock.

"Yeah," Bobby said, holding the boy closer as they exited the room, "he's here and he's going to kill the asshole who did this to you. Sort of wish I could too," he muttered softly so Sam wouldn't hear.

They walked a few more feet before Bobby suddenly came to a halt when he heard a creak that came from behind him. He was about to turn to look when he felt something hit the back of his head.

Bobby fell down, letting go of Sam as he landed on the floor. Sam followed, a small moan of pain escaping him when his head hit the hardwood floor.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" a gruff voice called out. Bobby groaned as he used his elbows to push himself up. He quickly glanced over at Sam, worried when he noticed how Sam's chest rose and fell too quick for his liking.

The hunter waited until his attacker moved out from the shadows before pulling his gun out of his worn jacket and shooting the man in the stomach. The stranger went down, clutching his abdomen and moaning in pain.

"Not only is this man a stupid bastard, the people he hire are stupid bastards as well," Bobby commented, trying to ignore the loud thump in his head. He was about to attend to Sam when he heard a click of a gun and different voice in the shadows.

"Not another move or the boy is dead."

The man walked out from behind the boxes that kept him out of sight, shotgun in hand pointed right at Sam's limp form.

"Well if it ain't Tweedle Dum," Bobby muttered.

"Put the gun down now or I'll kill the boy."

After a moment Bobby reluctantly placed his shotgun down in front of him. When the man motioned for Bobby to give it to him, Bobby sighed before sliding his gun across the floor.

Tweedle Dum picked up the shotgun and quickly examined it. "Nice model," he muttered before aiming the gun at Bobby. "Too bad it's gonna be your own bullet that you'll bite," he said as he proceeded to push down the trigger.

A gunshot was heard but Bobby realized that it didn't come from the man. He watched as the man fell to the ground before noticing the bullet wound on the back of his head. He looked up and saw Beverly standing in the doorway, the gun in her shaky hands smoking.

"Nice shot," he said to the obviously shocked woman.

"I-I was aiming for his shoulder," she replied, awe and shock coating her tone.

"Lucky shot then," Bobby said as he ran over to check on Sam.

"He hit his head when he fell," Bobby said while attending to the boy he calls his own. He lifted up Sam's head, feeling something wet on his hand. He pulled his hand away to examine it and let out a string of profanity when he saw the fresh crimson staining his hand.

"We need to get to him to the hospital," Beverly said.

"We can't leave Dean here," Bobby countered.

"Well help me get Sam in the car and then you can tell his brother to hurry the fuck up," Beverly replied. "If we wait any longer he might not make it to the ride there."


"What other favors?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the two men heard the gunshots ringing through the warehouse. The fury he previous felt quickly morphed into fear for what those gunshots could mean.

His worry turned into confusion when he saw Ryan's face scrunch up in confusion as well.

"They're supposed to give me a sign," Ryan said before muttering "fuck this hurts."

"What sign?" Dean's hold tightened while he shook the man. "What sign?"

"O-one of them were supposed to tell me if they killed the bastard but-"

Before he could finish, Ryan felt a hard fist collide with his face, his lips splitting open. He didn't have time to recover from the sudden punch when Dean threw another one, this time hitting his eye. While Ryan let out a yelped, Dean couldn't help but feel a bit satisfied when he saw his eye already start to swell.

Dean watched the man whimper in pain for half of a minute before standing up he stood up and gave a swift kick to Ryan's abdomen, knocking him onto the ground.

"If you so much as fucking blink I'll cut your tongue off," he warned the man. The man that took his brother might be a stupid asshole but at least he wasn't stupid enough to make any remarks to Dean's threat other than the glare he gave Dean.

He left the man, who was trying hard not to quiver on the floor, to walk over to the filthy mattress Sam was occupying and grabbed the handcuffs Bobby took off of his brother. He tried-and miserably failed- to ignore the dried blood spots and flakes that covered the mattress and the warm blood that he felt on the cuffs. Dean could have killed the man right there; Sam should not have lost this much blood-or any blood-because Dean pissed someone off. This should have never have happened to his brother.

When Dean went back to Ryan he dragged the quivering man over to the wooden post in the middle of the room and quickly attached the handcuffs around his wrists and behind the post. The man let out a pained huff as Dean tightened the handcuffs as tight as he could. Once Dean was satisfied knowing that Sam's tormentor was not going anywhere any time soon he pulled the knife he stuck in his back pocket out and twirled it in his left hand, watching the man try to curl his hurt knee further into himself. He knelt down in front of him and held the blade close to Ryan's chest.

"You really thought I wouldn't figure out a way to find you and my brother? Did you honestly think you would come out of this alive?" As Dean spoke, he slid the knife down the front of Ryan's shirt, splitting it apart and exposing the tan skin underneath.

Ryan let out a small moan as Dean traced the tip of his blade over his chest. A thin line of blood pooled out from the cut as it opened and dribbled down his sweat-coated skin.

"I knew I wouldn't make it," the man said as he sucked in a breath, "but as long as your cockslut brother was gone and your disgusting relationship was terminated I would gladly pay the price of my own life."

He let out a pained groan when Dean pushed the bullet further into his knee with the tip of the blade.

"What I still don't understand is how you blocked us from acessing the cameras in the parking lot," Dean said. "You're not the sharpest tool in the shed so how the hell did you manage to block a freakin hacker or IT or whatever the hell she calls herself from getting past the firewall? I'm guessing your favors were people who have a degree and some I.O.U's. Am I right?"

"I don't need to answer to some filth like you," Ryan said.

He couldn't hold back the screamed when Dean jammed his knife deep into his thigh, a couple of inches away from the bullet in his knee. Dean twisted it, watching the dark substance pool up to the surface, before pulling it out with a sickening "squish".

"Now there's something you need to understand," Dean said once the man's screams tapered down, twirling the bloodied knife in his hand. "I went to Hell for four months. Technically forty years in Hell time but four months Earth time. For thirty years down there I was beaten, tortured physically and emotionally, and so much other crap that would scare off even the toughest people around."

"Good. You deserve hell." Ryan spat out a glob of blood on the dusty floor and continued to stare down the oldest Winchester. "Not only are you a sick perverted fuck, you suck at math. You said you were in Hell for forty years then you said thirty years."

Dean smirked as he stepped closer to the man.

"You really are a stupid bastard," Dean said in a mocking tone. "The entire time Hell's number one torture, Alastair offered me a deal; he would stop torturing me if I tortured other souls for him. For thirty years I said no." Dean bent down and pointed the tip of the blade at the man's face, slightly hating how he enjoying the way Ryan obviously tried to suppress the fear.

"Eventually I accepted the offer," he continued. "Not only did I get out of being tortured, I learned how to turn even the most stubborn soul into a weeping mess. After all," Dean swiftly cut the side of Ryan's neck, grinning as the man grunted in pain, "practice makes perfect."

Dean pulled back his fist, the one without the knife, and slammed it against Sam's captor's nose. The man howled when he felt his bones crush underneath Dean's fist. Dean hated to admit it, but the sound of the bones breaking and the man's pain-filled screams brought Dean the same sick satisfaction he had when he tortured the souls in Hell.

"You think that was bad? I have a lot more tricks up my sleeve."

The blade trailed down Ryan's bloodied chest until it reached the cut Dean had made earlier. With the tip of the blade, Dean carefully dug it into the opening and pushed inside, causing the cut to widen. More blood gushed out as Ryan's scream echoed through the old building. He angled the knife as he pushed deeper.

Dean kept the blade in place for half a minute, occasionally shifting the knife deeper into Ryan's skin. He watched the crimson gush out of the wound, intentionally creating a larger cut as he pulled it out.

Ryan had to admit; he didn't think Dean would be intimidating or even scary but as he was faced with the pissed older brother, he was frightened and a bit shocked that he himself hadn't begged for mercy yet.

Ryan had spent some with Sam on the case hours before Dean killed his wife and stopped her from extracting her revenge. From that time, Ryan noticed how Sam was gentle but at the same time through with his interrogations, coaxing Ryan to answer a few questions but also demanding that he told him everything he knew when Ryan shied away from the subject of witchcraft and Mandy.

Dean, on the other hand, seemed like the kind of man who took charge and got answers now matter what he needed to do to get them.

The first time Ryan found them kissing he was shocked and disgusted by the Winchester boys, but he decided to try and pretend it never happened. It wasn't his business to get involved with and the men would hopefully be gone within a few days.

The next day Dean Winchester shot his wife, ending her rampage for revenge, and starting Ryan's plan for his own.

He pretended to be okay with it, fooling the men that he was taking the news of his wife's death well. He was shocked that the professional hunters didn't notice how he was really hurting and pissed but now that he thought about it Dean was more focused on his brother and probably worried about whatever the hell was-and still is-going on in that man's head.

After the Winchester's left he sat in his room-how lonely it was the first few nights without Mandy-planning his revenge against Dean Winchester. He sat in there for hours, trying to figure out how he could hurt the man who seemed to be made of steel. He thought of grabbing Dean and then torturing the man, giving him a slow, painful death. He deserved that. However he knew overpowering Dean would be easier said than done.

And then it hit him.

Sam.

Dean's bastard brother was the key to Dean's heart. If Sam was broken then Dean surely would be too.

At first, Ryan only wanted to hurt Sam. After all he wasn't the one who actually held the gun up to Mandy. But after weeks of planning, he realized that the only way to utterly destroy Dean was by killing Sam. He planned it out and tracked the hunters for nearly six months now, and he believed he would finally get his revenge.

He underestimated how scary an older brother and lover could really be.

"Dean!"

Both men looked over at the owner of the voice. Bobby's face was red and shiny due to a thin layer of sweat. His hands and shirt were covered in blood, red as Dean's rage. He didn't need to be told it was Sam's blood. He just knew it was.

"Dean we need to leave. Sam needs to go the hospital now!"

Dean heard Ryan laugh before it turned into a wet cough. Dean looked back at Ryan, the blood from his mouth and nose dribbling down his chin and onto his lap.

"Any last words?" he asked the man. He wanted to stay and feed the bastard his intestines before killing him but getting Sam out of here and giving him the medical attention he needed was much more important than any kind of revenge.

"At least I got to rid the world of your sick brother. That fucker deserved what he got," he paused to spit out the blood gathering in his mouth before glaring at Dean, the malice heavy in his eyes as he spoke, "but I regret not taking that ass for myself and trying it out for-"

Dean felt no remorse as he shoved the knife hilt deep through the bastards heart. Ryan's cocky grin slipped to a shocked looked, a small gasp leaving his mouth. He felt blood begin to rise in his throat, the pain too much for him to take.

Dean heard the last shuddering breath escape the man's lips as his head lolled back, eyes sliding shut. The leftover blood pooled out of his mouth and down onto his lap.

"Enjoy Hell," Dean said to the corpse. He pulled the blade out and wiped the blood on the dead man's shredded shirt before turning to Bobby.

"We'll deal this this later," he said pointing at the marred corpse before sprinting out the door and down the stairs.


When they arrived at the Impala, Dean's heart nearly broke at the sight that laid out in front of him.

Sam was lying down on the backseat, his large legs hanging over the side. Beverly had Sam's head on her lap, rubbing soothing circles on the cheek that wasn't as cut up or bruised. She was whispering soothing words to his brother, who looked so young and broken laying in the backseat. The small blanket Bobby grabbed only went up to Sam's knees. It served more as an act of protecting his brother's modesty rather than keep him warm while the shock from blood loss settled in.

Dean walked up to them and lightly tapped Beverly on her shoulder.

"I'll sit with him."

Beverly nodded and gently laid Sam's head down on the seat before slipping out of the backseat, allowing Dean to enter. Dean sat down in the Impala, the place that had always been their home, and pulled Sam up until he was cradling his brother's upper body in his arms. Sam curled into him, just like he did when he was a kid and he was hurt or had the flu. He winced when he felt the painful throb in his head intensify and looked up at his brother with the eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"De..."

"Shh," Dean ran a hand through the sweaty and dirty mop of hair and planted a small kiss on the top of his head. He tried not to allow the fear from hearing San shorten his name show in his voice. "You're gonna be okay Sammy. We're going to get you to the hospital and I know if you could you'd shoot me the third highest bitch-face but we have to go."

He felt the violent tremors coming off of his brother's body. Dean held him closer, knowing what the signs of shock looks like and Sam was defiantly going into shock.

"How long until we get there?" Dean asked the others in the front. Beverly looked at her phone, thankful that she had the directions opened up earlier.

"About nine minutes. eight if we run through all the red lights and stop signs."

"De? Where's dad?"

Dean felt his stomach churn when Sam asked him that question.

"Why is he always out?"

Dean glanced up and met Bobby's nervous eyes in the rearview mirror. The older man looked uncharacteristically nervous, making Dean nervous. Bobby only had that look when he knew they were in deep trouble. Bobby told him Sam hit his head when he fell but Dean didn't think it would affect him too much. However Sam was going through shock and he possibly had seen the freakin devil while he was in captivity so that must had taken a toll on his head as well.

"Where is he De?"

He's been dead for the last six years Sammy.

Dean took a deep breath before answering Sam.

"He's on a business trip. He'll be back soon."

Sam nodded, then sucked in a pained breath.

"...hurts."

"I know Sammy. I'm sorry. This is all my fault," Dean said.

"N-not your fault D'n," Sam stammered. Dean couldn't believe the kid. Here he was, bruised and bloodied with a broken wrist and a black eye and going into shock, yet he tried to reassure his brother that none of this was his fault.

Of course it's my fault. I pulled the trigger. I should have dealt with the bastard before any of this could happen.

Dean didn't dare say that outloud, not when Sam was as broken as he was now.

He noticed how Sam began to stare at the spot tight next to them, his breathing heavy and quick as he tried to get away from what he was seeing.

"No... go 'way..." Sam muttered while moving

"Sammy he's not here," Dean said. He didn't understand how the hell a hallucination of the devil could be in their car when there was no space left in the backseat with his 6'4 brother sprawled across it. Then again, Sam's mind wasn't in the best of places right now. The hallucination could have easily slipped through all this confusion. Dean moved Sam so that Sam could look up at him without straining his neck-the bruises and imprints left from the rope was a painful reminder of how he had failed to save his brother before he could be hurt-and stared into Sam's eyes.

"Sam it's okay you're going to be okay. I got you. You're safe baby boy I promise."

Dean leaned over and placed a small kiss on Sam's dirty forehead, feeling the shivers vibrating from the body he was holding.

He looked over at the duo in the front of his car again. "How much longer?"

"I'd say about six more minutes," Beverly estimated.

Dean turned his attention back to Sam, noticing how his brother had stopped shivering.

"Sammy?"

Sam didn't acknowledge Dean. Dean felt his heart speed up, fear starting to override what hope he had before. Dean placed his free hand over Sam's heart and almost felt his own give out when he felt nothing underneath his fingers.

"Sammy?"

Dean gently placed his fingers on Sam's bruised neck, trying to locate his brother's pulse.

He didn't feel the slightest thump.

Nononono!

"DRIVE FASTER!" He yelled at Bobby. Dean felt the moment Bobby accelerated the car when he and Sam lurched forward. Dean kept his arm's wrapped tightly around Sam, trying to keep Sam's limp form safe from falling off of him.

"Come on Sammy please just stay with me were almost there," Dean said as he wrapped both arms around the still body. He muttered reassurances to the man he held, not entirely sure who he was trying to comfort: Sam or himself.


I think there will only be about three more chapters after this and honestly I am very impressed I made it this far. Usually I move on from my writing halfway through it but I really have stuck to this one through thick and thin. I just want to thank you guys for your reviews and kudos, follows and favorites. I think that the feedback and the fact that people actually like this story is what's keeping me going. That really does mean a lot to me.

See you next update :)