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I got a viable lead to the whereabouts of Sam and Dean! But, when I showed up, I was kidnapped by aliens … who made me … slow dance with them!

I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one. It means the world!

Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

I have been going to my stories stats page and looking (and replying to) the reviews, though I'm pretty positive that no one is getting them as I think PM's are down along with everything else. So I would like to thank everyone that has reviewed to my story and let you know how much it means! Let's just be thankful the board is still up! Knock on wood!

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The plan was simple really; Joshua was going in first through one of the first floor windows, Bobby would go around back and sneak in through a service entrance, Gary was going around the side to the emergency entrance, and Dean … well, he was supposed to wait 15 minutes then come in … right through the front door. Joshua said it would be the least thing they would suspect.

There was one huge problem with that. Dean hated to wait.

So by the time their cloak of darkness finally came on full throttle and Joshua took off across the grounds, Dean was pacing, his face scrunched up with tension, his fists clenching and unclenching as a means to try and rid himself of this adrenaline that was rushing through him at a speed of mach 10.

"God I hate this shit!"

Bobby just put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, gave it a squeeze before he was off himself to sneak around the back of the hospital. Gary stood on edge, rocking from the balls of his feet to his heels and back … this hunt was far more important than the normal ghost and ghoul job. There was too much at stake. He watched Bobby slip around the back then clapped Dean on the shoulder.

"When we get Sam back, we're all going out for beers."

That said only to try and lighten a mood that was growing darker by the second. But Gary didn't stick around for any answer, he was hurrying off to the side to slip in the way the paramedics do. Dean stood, watching, pacing.

"God I hate this shit!"

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The window was easy … a little too easy, and Joshua raised a brow but didn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Though, his hackles were up along with his gun as soon as he slipped into one of the rooms.

It was empty and devoid of anything that made it appear to be a hospital room save one thing … that smell. After all these years of being empty, it still made Joshua shudder … damn he hated hospitals.

With the grace of a trained hunter, Joshua moved through the room, gun poised and ready, though his finger wasn't so itchy he would let off a wild shot. Oh no, Joshua, when he pulled the trigger, it was always with deadly accuracy. It was those skills now that moved him from the room to the corridor, his steps as silent as a panthers on a floor that was once shiny and full of equipment pushed by people in scrubs and shoes that didn't squeak when they walked. Neither did his.

At each door he would pause, gather his bearings and his wits before testing then pushing it open … and each time he came up empty handed. It didn't deter him, however. Something in this hospital was making the hairs on the back of Joshua's neck prickle … he had long ago learned to trust that instinct.

It was his instinct that didn't let him down when he came to the door that separated this wing from the rest of the hospital. Peering through the small window to check for anyone or anything on the other side, he gave the door a push … only to have it not budge but an inch. Testing it again, he frowned, peeked through the window again, then pushed on the door long enough to peer in the small crack. It was chained.

"Sonofabitch…."

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Bobby's entrance into the back door was uninhibited. It was rather easy as a matter-of-fact. It caused him to go onto instant alert, not that he wasn't there already. It made him think they were being invited into the wolves den or something.

"Damn it Sam, what'd you get yourself into…."

His mutter went on deaf ears as he crept through the hallway, his weapon never lowered as he kept it poised before him at all times. His feet trod carefully, making any that had seen his actions recognize him for what he was … deadly.

His movement was guarded as he came to the Nurse's Station, a place where anyone could hide … but all seemed quiet on the western front. He didn't fully trust his hearing however, and moved quickly … faster than anyone would have suspected of Bobby. Scoping the area, he went to each place a person could hide (including the desk itself) before he was satisfied. With a nod to himself, he moved toward the door that marked the entrance into the next wing … though it only budged an inch. Frowning, he pushed again, and then lowered to peer through the small crack between the doors.

"Chained? That just figures……"

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Gary made little haste getting in through the emergency entrance, and actually made it inside in less than two minutes.

"Like taking candy from a baby. I tell ya Sammy boy, when we get you out of here, I am so bragging about this…."

But … his entry was where the easy part of his journey ended.

"Ahh damn it all!"

Apparently every piece of equipment that was taken from every room in the hospital was stashed in the ER. So, instead of people sitting, pacing, and cluttering up the aisles, Gary had to weave through, under, and sometimes over crash carts and things that went beep in the still of a room.

His plight to get into the rest of the hospital didn't end there either. Once he cleared the Jungle Gym of Doom, he found himself quite literally trapped as the door leading to freedom (and quite possibly Sam) was blocked … chained to be exact.

"No one ever said babies could fight back for their candy."

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No one could have ever claimed patience to be a virtue that Dean Winchester possessed. So fifteen minutes was like fifteen hours or torture, fifteen hours he already felt he paid by listening to some sick bastard hurt (torture!) his brother. And for what? Because he wasted a ghost that was killing people?

Oh like that made sense!

So he waited, watched time tick slowly by on his watch, then finally (finally!) he made his move … in 13.2 minutes. But who was counting, right?

Slipping across the lawn of the hospital, Dean hoped that Joshua, Bobby, and Gary had already distracted whoever might be on the other side of the doors, though honestly, if they hadn't, well, that just meant Dean got to blow the heads off of more people.

Oh yeah, he was pissed.

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Now, Dean, GO!"

Ever since the fire that claimed their mother's life (and before if Dean were actually honest with himself) he had held a responsibility for his brother that went above and beyond the call of family. In some cultures they say if you save a life, you are forever responsible for that person … such was the case in Dean Winchester.

And he took his job seriously.

Dean, unlike the others, encountered not a locked door that was all too easy to pick; he found an open door, an invitation to hell. Hell it might be, but he was prepared to enter the fiery pits to rescue his brother, and heaven be damned he'd take every son of a bitch down with him that dared harm a hair on Sam's head.

Oh yeah, Dean was pissed.

Gun raised and at the ready, Dean made a silent path down the long corridor of the main entryway, checking every door along the way. No patient room went unchecked, no path untouched. What he found was a trail, one leading him, dragging him along like a bull with a ring in its nose. The locked doors only pointing the way to the open pathways … a path Dean followed.

He would have followed Sammy to Satan's lair if that's what it took.

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For the first time since this whole thing began, Sam Winchester was terrified. Oh sure, he'd been scared, he wouldn't be human if he hadn't been. He'd been plenty scared. They'd beaten him, shot him, broke him, and choked him (of which Sam was pretty certain he'd been dead) but there was something that terrified him far worse than his own death, something that was stronger than his will to live … Dean.

Sam knew without a doubt why they'd kept him alive. Why they didn't just kill him. It wasn't like they hadn't had plenty of chances. It wasn't like they couldn't have just let him bleed to death when they shot him. Or hell, just left him dead when Allen choked him, though Sam had the sneaking suspicion that that incident was without doctor's orders.

All because Sam knew, he just knew that they kept him alive for one thing. So Dean could watch him die. And it was that thought that was more frightening than anything else Sam could have imagined.

Sam was also fairly certain, as Daniel Murdoch glanced out the window, that he hadn't heard Allen's whisper (promise) to make it hurt. Quite honestly, at that point, he wasn't sure who was in charge anymore, and that thought was equally as frightening.

Hazel eyes watched Murdoch as he stared out into the darkness, his ears straining to hear something … anything to let him know by some grace of God (as if that has ever happened before) that Dean was going to get there in time, that all was going to be well in the end. That Dean didn't have to watch him die.

But the Winchester luck was never so good.

The doctor moved back toward him, and then squatted before Sam to pat his cheek like he was some kind of pet.

"Don't worry, Sam, it'll be over soon, then Dean will know, he'll understand…"

His tone was so calm, so patronizing that it made Sam almost physically ill, but he knew, with the gag on, if he threw up he'd end up choking on his own vomit. Sam did not want to go out that way.

Not that dying in front of Dean for some sort of twisted kick by a sick doctor was in the plans either.

Not wanting to lay dormant and accept fate lying down (literally) Sam pushed with his legs to try and gain some leverage, to get to his feet somehow. This seemed to please the doctor, for that all too maniacal smile formed on his mouth as he reached down and grabbed Sam by the hair, jerking him upwards with a force a man his size should not possess.

"Don't worry, Sam, it's all for the greater good … you'll see."

Gun in his free hand, Daniel Murdoch began to caress Sam's cheek, throat, and brow with the weapon, the grip he had of Sam's hair making moving impossible. He looked almost loving, as if what he was doing was for Sam's own good.

"Hey!"

Both Doctor Murdoch and Sam looked toward the sound. To Sam, the sound was of comfort and safety. "As long as I'm around, nothing bad's gonna happen to you." Of overbearing control. "You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" It was music to his ears, a lightening of his soul. All at once relief washed over him … relief and fear of what was to come.

"Get your filthy hands off my brother!"

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