Dean sat in the diner and waited for Sam to return. He was starting to get nervous now, he was supposed to have been back ten minutes ago. After speaking to the man that they had thought might have had some information, speaking very calmly and quietly as their father held a knife against his neck, they had found out the possible whereabouts of the man that may have killed their mother and Jess.

John had decided that they needed more evidence, so he had sent Sam to distract the man whilst he broke into his house. Sam had gone to his workplace. The plan had been to make it look like he was being watched, so Sam was hanging around; it was a risky plan, but it was the best they had and Sam could handle himself. At least, Dean thought he could.

After another twenty minutes, John entered the diner, his eyebrows raising when he spotted that Dean was alone.

"Where's your brother?" he asked as he reached the table.

"He's... not back yet." Dean tried to keep his worry out of his voice. He wasn't one for caring, but Sam... Sammy was one thing that meant something to him. He tried his phone and got nothing, it didn't even ring. Sam would never have turned his phone off.

XXXX

Sam shifted, trying desperately to get comfortable. Hours ago, his body had gone numb and he'd been thankful, but now, now it was somehow painful. The absence of any feeling, how was that hurting him? He couldn't see anything, the room was completely black in the way that almost seemed to press into his eyes, like the darkness was alive and solid. The static in his ears had become part of him within minutes, making him forget anything he had tried to remember about where he had been taken. It seemed to be coming from his right. If he had to, he'd guess that he had one earplug in.

Suddenly, there was light and it was blinding. It was gone before he could even blink and Sam heard a click over the static playing through the static. He expected lights to come on, it had sounded like a light switch, but he stayed in the dark. He felt someone moving closer to him, vaguely heard footsteps and he tried to shake the fuzziness out of his head.

"Hello, Sammy."

It was automatic. "Don't fucking call me that."

"Oh, come now. Don't be like that," the voice said. "Look, I'll make this easier for you."

There was another click and the static stopped. His ears felt strange. He hadn't realised the way the sound had felt as it ran through his body until it had been taken away.

"How can you see?" he asked.

"Infra-red. Do you know how long you've been here?"

"No idea. Four hours?"

"Oh. Really? I think you must have fallen asleep. It's been ten."

Sam wondered what Dean and his father were doing. Were they looking for him?

"Why am I here?" he asked quickly. He remembered watching the man the his father had pointed out to him, remembered that he had to distract him and not kill him. He remembered losing sight of him and then waking up in a car before being thrown in here.

"I thought we should finally get to know each other."

"Are you... did you kill them?"

"Your mother? Your girlfriend? Oh yes."

"Why? Why would you do something like that?"

"Don't pretend you don't understand, Sammy. You know what it's like to kill."

"I also know what it's like to lose someone."

"No you don't."

That hit him. What the fuck? How could he just stand there – at least Sam thought he was standing – and say that.

"Sam, you can't know what it's like to lose someone if you don't know what it's like to love someone. Don't fucking pretend you do."

"Well maybe I would if you hadn't killed my mother." He should have been shouting, he knew it, but he didn't have it in him. He was tired, exhausted even.

"Okay, well I'm tired of this. You asked me why you were here. You were following me. I was tired of it, so I brought you here. I would have tortured you by now if I didn't think you'd enjoy it."

There was a click and Sam heard the static start up again and then the man was walking away. He pre-emptively squeezed his eyes shut, but the light still burned his eyes through his eye lids. Some time later, the man returned with food and Sam had to eat blindly, opening his mouth to receive mouthfuls of what he thought might have been a BLT.

A day later (although Sam thought he could have been in the room for a week), he hadn't been spoken to again, all of his questions ignored. His captor had come in occasionally, to give him food and water. It wasn't until the man had helped him use the toilet that Sam had realised that he was naked.

It was the boredom that was killing him. He couldn't think from the static and the humming pumping into his ears. Even if he could have, he didn't know what he would have thought about. That's what he thought until it got worse. Later, he would wish more than anything that he could go back to the boredom.

The door opened and closed. Sam was confused. He had been to the toilet quite recently, or so he thought and he couldn't smell food.

"Hello." There was a click and the noises in his right ear faded.

"What do you want?" Sam asked.

"I've been a bit bored. You see, I usually use this space occasionally, but with you here, I can't bring anyone else back. And as I said, I don't think I can torture you. It's been getting to me."

"What? Sorry if I'm cutting into your torture time..."

"Don't make me out to be something terrible, Sam. You're the same. I'm surprised you lasted so long before without a kill. Of course, that was only because you were taking it out on yourself."

"So what? You can't torture anyone so you want a chat?"

"No, I changed my mind. I've decided to do it anyway."

Sam didn't know what to say. He was supposed to be worried, or at least annoyed, but to be honest, he was just glad that he didn't have to be bored any more. It wasn't like he could do much about it anyway, even if he did get out of whatever was binding him, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to move his limbs.

"Not got anything to say, Sammy?"

"Nope."

Sam felt the man approach him. A finger ran across his face, brushing his hair out of his face and he shuddered at the touch. Barely feeling anything since he'd gotten here had made him overly sensitive. Sudden cold on his shoulder made him realise that they were going down the knife route. Sam hated that he was looking forward to it.

"You actually do like this, don't you? Interesting."

Sam whimpered when the blade was taken away. Not being able to see anything was starting to frustrate him. He felt it press into his thigh quickly and then it was gone again. He felt his cock harden in anticipation, heard the man chuckle as he tried not to look pissed off.

"This is going to be fun."