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He flinches at the tug on his arm. He blinks himself slowly into wakefulness and tries to hold on firmly to the vision that dances around in his sleepy head. Sammy. He reaches out to the picture, tries to hold it, hang on to it. Sam, please come back.

The foggy image of his brother leaves his mind as he feels another pull and then tightness snake around his arm. He shakes his head to dispel the last remnants of sleepiness he feels to figure out just what in the hell is happening to him now.

Christ. She's got a damn tourniquet wrapped around him and his blood goes cold as he sees a syringe nestled nice and snug around the bitch's mouth. Perfect. More freakin' drugs. That is definitely not a good thing. C'mon, just distract her man, you need to distract her. Think about Sam. Don't stop thinking about him. Find out what happened to Sam.

"Listen Frankenstein-ette, before you think of getting your freak on again, I think you better give me some of the basics. You know, before I really do start to get pissed off. Usually I'm all up for the bondage and kinky stuff, but you stick me with that thing and that's it, our date is officially over."

She giggles through the object still firmly wrapped between her lips. She lets go of the tourniquet and turns to face him with a question mark pasted on her features. Okay then, alright, got her attention at least. He has a hard time concentrating on anything but that damn vial clenched in her teeth but there is one constant thought floating through his mind. One thing he needs to know.

"Okay. So, first things first. Where the hell is Sam? What did you do to him?"

She plucks the needle out of her mouth and leans over to look him straight in the eyes this time. Her own eyes twinkle and as she flicks out her tongue to moisten her lips it reminds him of someone who is about to divulge a secret that they have just been itching to tell.

"Ooooo, I'm so glad you asked me that Dean." Closer and closer she leans into him until her chest is flush with his now heaving one.

"What would you say if I told you that Sam has been here the whole time?"

No. That's not right. His eyes dart around the room again, the same dark and dingy accommodations he has seen every fricken time he has opened his eyes. Sam isn't here. No way. He would sense him. He would hear him. He would know.

"I'd say your level of bullshit is off the charts sweetheart. If he was here I would know it." Please, don't let this wench be right, not about this. "I always know."

"Sorry Dean, not this time. Not anymore."

She stands and saunters slowly over to a corner of the room. It takes him a split second to realize he can actually see. Huh. It may be slight and still dull and faded but there is a shimmer of light that seems to filter itself onto that exact spot.

His jaw clenches as he focuses in on the object she now stands beside. How the hell could he have missed that? It looks like a damn vault, tucked away in the recesses of the room but… it couldn't have been there this whole time. He would have seen it. But, it was dark right? Yeah, that must be it, that has to be it.

The sight of this thing makes him queasy. It just screams out madness and torture and the lump in his throat forms in an instant as he sees what looks to be a sliding door at the top. As if he said that last part aloud, her nimble fingers slide the metal across and he hears her whisper words he can't quite make out. She is talking to whatever is inside. Damn it. Please. No.

Panic surges through him and he holds his breath as her pale hand reaches for the handle. The squeak of the hinges rattles through his frame and he fights the urge to shut his eyes and hide from whatever the hell he is about to see confined in that damn metal box.

He finds he is frozen, not only by the binds that keep him in place, but by the absolute terror that rises up and consumes him as she steps aside to reveal the prize hidden within.

Sam.

TBC... Thanks for stopping by!