It was less than a week later that Crowley moved us to a new location. This time there was no fancy show made to treat me as anything other than a hostage. No dressing me up and transporting me in some extravagant car. The new location made the mansion that had fallen into severe disrepair seem nice though. On entering, I deduced that we were in some sort of abandoned psychiatric facility or a prison. It was damp, dingy and had an unfortunate smell that I couldn't quite place. After a short time though, I found that my physical location or its characteristics didn't hold much importance to me. I spent my time in a medication and sometimes djinn-induced sleep, being woken and pulled from my cell only to be questioned on the content of my dreams.

In the times that I was awake, I noticed how much my body had changed. I was weak and thinner than I had ever been. I had always carried a little extra weight that refused to budge despite semi-regular training, but it was gone now. Weeks under Crowley's lack of care had taken away the chubbiness in my cheeks, what Sam and Dean had coined my baby face. I hadn't eaten a full meal since the French toast in New York City, nourished only through the fluids in my IV line and the occasional scraps of food when one of the demons remembered that humans required food to survive. Part of me figured they 'forgot' on Crowley's orders, to keep me too exhausted and too frail to fight back.

I didn't look up when Bas used the keys to open my cell. He stopped a few steps away from me, his shoes coming into view. I could practically hear him calling me "Princess," the nickname that I had come to detest, though he didn't say a word as he stood silently about a foot away. Bas pulled me into a standing position, slid an arm under my knees and I leaned into his chest, almost welcoming the contact. If I closed my eyes and pretended to hear a heartbeat it almost felt like Bas was human, like I was safe with him. As time wore on, I had become more resistant to walking, resistant to unnecessary movements, not because I wanted to be difficult, but because I was too exhausted. Though I was sleeping most of the time, it wasn't restful and often left me more fatigued than I had been before.

I was vaguely aware that Bas was carrying me further from my cell than I had been since our arrival. After coming through a set of double doors Bas lowered me into a metal chair. Across the room from me sat another chair which was inhabited by Crowley. My gaze had just happened to catch him as I got settled and I did a double take when it registered, my reaction time slower than usual. He was tied to the chair and I squinted at him, trying to focus on his face. There was something different about him. Something in the eyes and I couldn't look away even though he had bowed his head. The doors behind me flew open, startling me and bringing another Crowley through the door.

"Good morning, sweetheart. I see you have met the original shifter," he gestured to the Crowley clone secured to the chair, "He has impeccable good looks. Don't you think?" The shifter lifted his head to meet my eyes.

"Miss Winchester, last time we met I broke your wrist," he spoke, a small smile playing on his lips.

"And you stabbed a knife through my hand," I added weakly. The smallest hint of spite was evident in my words as I started, but faded quickly as I lost endurance and interest. Emotions used up energy that I couldn't afford to expend.

"Good," Crowley mused, studying us, "You two have a history. Come, sweetheart. That truculence will be of help when you torture him."

"What? No, I won't do that," I answered, shaking my head.

Crowley turned and took a few strides in my direction. Before he got to me, I hunched my shoulders and bowed my head, preparing for the worst. I focused my eyes on the glint of his shiny black dress shoes as he tapped his foot impatiently. Bas' hand was then in my hair, grabbing a tangle of the greasy knots and forcing my head up so that I had no choice but to meet with Crowley's gaze.

"You will torture this piece of scum until I tell you to stop and then you will kill him, you ungrateful little midge. I let you out for extra play time and this is how you choose to repay me? You can cooperate or you can go right back to that delightful little cell of yours for a little quality time with your greatest fears."

I swallowed hard. Anatole had been killed the day before we left the mansion. I had watched the demons kill the alpha djinn and though I felt a deep pain knowing that I had caused his death, I could help but also feel relief at being free from the hallucinations. The relief was short lived as there seemed to be an endless supply of djinns willing to induce my almost constant nightmarish hallucinations. I barely knew what was real and what was imagined and I elected not to try too hard to distinguish the dreams from reality. The newest djinn favored spinning hallucinations with Sam and Dean. Those dreams were my punishments for the incorrect answers, for not following orders, for annoying them.

"I can't," I whimpered. I didn't want to torture the shifter and regardless, I barely had the strength to stand on my own. They were just barely keeping me alive. Bas and Crowley both knew that, but they showed no mercy. Crowley was frustrated with the progress being made and it showed. My visions of the woman had all but halted and he wasn't getting many answers from the Alphas either. Bas's grip on my hair tightened, pulling at my tender scalp. There wasn't a part of my body that didn't feel tender and sore.

"It wouldn't be the first time you killed a monster, sweetheart. This method is just a little more lucrative."

"I don't torture," I answered through gritted teeth, whining when Bas tightened his grip in response.

"You do starting today," Crowley said, clapping his hands together, "Chop, chop."

Bas took his hand from my hair and placed his hands under my arms, pulling me to my feet. I fell back against his chest as I established my footing. He moved me towards the table where Crowley had unpacked his favorite instruments of torture. Crowley's hand was lingering over one blade in particular. He pulled the knife up and into his hand, observing it with a smile as he turned to me.

"Cut him. Right here," he said, tracing his fingertip just beneath my collarbone. I shook my head, leaning back into Bas. Crowley pushed the knife in my hand, clasping his over mine and guiding me towards the shifter.

"It's either you or him, sweetheart. Ever heard of a little thing called self-preservation?"

"Not at someone else's expense," I spat.

He pushed my hand down and the knife plunged into the shifter's chest. The shifter let out a yell and I tried to drop the knife, but Crowley held his hand firmly over mine, forcing the knife to twist it in his chest. From my mouth escaped a sob and Crowley pulled the knife from the shifter's form.

"You've gone soft, Eleanora, a weak excuse for what you should be," the shifter said as he looked up to me.

"She is, isn't she?" Crowley commented, "How about you tell us why you would expect otherwise since you don't seem to want to tell me about Purgatory. Sit," he said, pushing me out of his arms so that I fell to the ground.

The shifter's eyes were on me though Crowley was looming over him, the knife still in hand.

"She's a Winchester," he answered with a chuckle, "Even you know they're not to be underestimated."

"She is at best, a Winchester in training. She's a naïve, hormonal twit with a nasty attitude and an inability to follow rules."

"Perhaps," the shifter replied.

"Start talking!" Crowley yelled, "Or I'll have her fillet your babies and toss them on your lap." He flipped on a monitor and the sound of crying babies filled the air.

"I won't do it," I answered.

I felt Bas's boot connect with my stomach and I doubled over pulling my legs to my chest and holding my abdomen. His hand were once again tugging at my hair, lifting me up into a sitting position.

"Is that so?" Crowley asked as he quieted the monitor.

"I won't kill innocent babies."

"You will if I tell you to," Crowley answered.

"No, I won't," I growled out despite Bas's hand tightening its hold on my hair. Crowley's foot slammed down on my hand and I let out a yelp. He crouched down so that he was at my level which served to increase the pressure his foot exerted on my hand as he focused his weight on that spot.

"I do not understand why you continue to insist on fighting me, little midge."

I whimpered as he twisted his foot, making my hand feel like it was being ground into the cement floor.

"You know what Crowley? Go ahead. Kill them all," the shifter said loud enough that it stole Crowley's attention from me, "We can always make more."

Crowley stood up and I pulled my hand to my chest. Crowley grabbed a machete from the table before slicing the shifter's head clean off his body in one fluid motion. I screamed in shock and Crowley turned to me.

"Next time I expect you to be more helpful or I can assure you I will not be so bloody nice about it," he had pulled out a cloth to wipe off the machete and now directed his attention to Bas, "Take her back to her cell, Nybbas."

Bas lifted me from where I sat crumpled on the floor and carried me back down the hallway towards my cell. Again, I let my head fall comfortably against his chest. As we turned the final corner, he set me on my feet. I saw the newest djinn standing outside of the door to my cell accompanied by a demon.

I pushed back against Bas, going so far as to turn and hide in his chest.

"Please, don't," I cried.

Bas pulled me away from his body and shoved me towards the cell door.

"I believe they define stupidity as doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result. Stop being uncooperative and this will stop, princess."

He pushed me down onto the bed, securing a chain around my wrist and attaching the IV line to the needle in my arm. The other demon brought the djinn forward.

"She just helped torture another monster. He's now dead because of her. Just like your father. Put her under as long as you deem fit," Bas offered.

The djinn's face went blank for a moment and then rage flashed through him as he placed his hand on my forehead. It wasn't worth it to fight.

I woke to the feeling of a warm hand brushing against my wrist as the chains jangled. Sam was picking at the lock. He smiled widely as I opened my eyes and pushed myself up.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm getting you out of here. How are you feeling?"

"Sammy?" I asked, hearing the tears in my voice before they reached my eyes.

"Yeah, it's me, Nora. We're getting you out of here," he answered.

"Crowley has demons everywhere though."

"I got in. I'll get you out."

"How?"

Sam broke eye contact, "Honestly, kid, I don't know yet, just give me a second to get you out of this."

I nodded. Sam unlocked the chain soon after and pulled me into his arms, his hand cradling the back of my head while the other held my emaciated frame to his chest. It was a few moments before he spoke.

"You've become a monster in here, Nora. Just like Azazel said, like Dad said you would," Sam said, his voice suddenly deeper.

"Sam, what are you talking about? You're scaring me." His grip on me was too tight.

"Dad said that Dean and I have to watch out for you because you would be a danger to us one day."

"I'm not!" Sam, "I would never hurt you. I wouldn't hurt anyone. I swear."

He finally let me out of his grasp and I sat back on the bed.

"Jesus Sam. What the hell?" I asked as I pushed my messy hair out of my face.

When I looked up, Sam was playing with Ruby's demon knife that I hadn't seen it in ages. Meg had stolen it from us a long while back. I inched myself away from him until my back met the cold concrete wall.

"You killed someone while you were here. Tortured him?" It was phrased like a question, but Sam's tone was drenched in accusation.

"I didn't want to, Sam! And he was a shifter, a monster and I didn't kill him."

He shrugged, "You're changing, Nora."

"Where's De?" I asked.

Sam didn't answer me, his attention focused on the knife, which I know noticed had a slightly red glint to it. I shouted, "Sammy!" to get his attention.

He looked up at me with a slight smile, "Dean's dead," he spoke plainly as he plunged the knife deep into my chest.

I could feel that I still existed before I could see it. In what sense of existence, I didn't know. Beneath me was a hard surface. As I moved my hands against the area I noticed that it felt like rock. I sensed an all too familiar metal against my wrists and ankles, leather across my upper chest and hips. I felt uncomfortably warm, the air was heavy and made sweat run down my body. I laid like that for what felt like ages, unable to hear, unable to see or to smell.

Voices. An indistinguishable murmur that started quietly and gained volume only to recede again. At its height I could hear snippets of conversations, the occasional scream, but little else. Still I laid in the restraints, isolated from the world through my senses.

Then I could smell burning flesh. It overpowered the faint smell of earth. I recognized the scent of my own sweat. There was nothing pleasant about any of the scents aside from the earth and I made every attempt to focus my mind on that particular smell. It reminded me of spring time. It reminded me of digging graves. It reminded me of Dean and Sam. Sam, who had stabbed me with the demon blade after killing Dean, sending me here to this place. Wherever here was.

For the first time since arriving in this place, I opened my eyes and saw a dimly lit room. The walls made it appear as though the room had been cut from the earth. Chains and leather straps held me in place on a table made of the same stone found in the walls. A small surgical table held metal instruments. I looked around the room as my restraints allowed, finding myself more thankful for the sense of vision than I had ever been before.

My head shot forward as I heard the door creak open for the first time since arriving. It was a heavy metal door, with no windows. A muscled arm appeared through the opening and the form stopped midway as though he was finishing a conversation. It had to be Bas. He had found me after all this time. Or maybe he knew I was here the all along and he was waiting for my senses to come back.

The eyes that briefly met mine did not belong to the demon I had anticipated. They were green eyes that mirrored my own. The same eyes that had bore into mine when their owner tucked me into bed. The same eyes that had on countless occasions implored me to answer questions truthfully when I didn't want to. The same eyes that had the power to stop me mid-sentence without the use of accompanied verbal reprimands. The eyes that had often reminded me I was safe and loved.

"Dean? Thank god," I whispered as his form came towards me, "Sam said that-."

When he finally turned to me, his face looked as though he was enraged and void of emotion at the same time.

"De," I prompted.

He turned to me, a knife expertly held in hand.

"You will speak only when spoken to, kid. Other than that, I only want to hear your screams, understood?"

I nodded once in response to his yelling, feeling warm tears leak onto my face. The knife slashed at my upper arm and I let out a scream.

"Was that the way you were taught to answer when I ask you a question?"

"No," I whined and again the knife cut into my arm.

"That's not good enough," he yelled.

"No, sir." I said.

He smirked down at me before continuing to carve, peppering his torture with questions about my dreams and derogatory rants as he whittled me down to nothing. He started over fresh each day until I could take it no longer, until I agreed to torture another soul as his apprentice.

In my state of sleep, I could hear voices in echoing through the hallways, snippets of conversation reaching my brain as I fell in and out of consciousness within the confines of my cell. I felt the bed beneath me, the thin blanket pooled around my feet. In my disturbed sleep, I had pulled the IV from my arm and the blood crusted over the wound now. I rolled over in the bed so I was facing the wall and pulled the blanket up over my shoulders before closing my eyes once more.

"I will kill you."

The words came from Dean's mouth. I opened my eyes scanning the room for any sign of him. The voice had sent chills up my spine and I quickly pulled my knees to my chest beneath the thin dirty blanket. I cringed as I felt the soreness in my abdomen spike as I brought my body into a fetal position. A few minutes of quiet passed before I fell back into a fitful sleep.

A pair of arms were crushing me into a chest before I could register what was happening. The smell of leather, liquor and cologne invaded my nostrils and startled me awake.

"Kiddo, hey, wake up," Dean said, "I've got you. You're okay."

I tried to pull myself away from his grasp, pushing at his chest as the tears flowed from my eyes. I was too weak to release myself and he was holding too tightly.

"No! Get away from me! Let me go! I don't remember anything! I swear! I don't want to do it anymore!" I screamed, the words coming out like a reflex.

I was finally able to push myself out of Dean's grasp and my eyes darted between the two boys. Sam had been planted near the doorway to my cell but took a few steps forward now.

"What the hell is wrong with her?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't answer him, but looked at me with his face laced in concern. There was a little bit of distance between Dean and I now that I had wedged myself into the far corner of the bed and pulled the blankets up over my body, creating a barrier between us.

"Nora, we do not have time for this crap. Let's go," Sam said, sighing.

Dean smacked Sam as he came closer, "Dude. Do not talk to her like that right now."

"She'll get over it. We need to get her the hell out of here."

I felt myself starting to shake as Sam crouched down next to the bed, reaching his arms towards my body, "I'll carry her out to the car. It doesn't look like walking is an option," he offered.

"No! Please, just leave me alone," I whimpered, pushing out at his chest with my feet to keep him away, "I'll be good. I'll cooperate. Just leave me here. Just stop the dreams."

"Cas, get the heck in here," Dean barked as he pulled Sam away from me and stood up himself. Castiel popped his head around the corner and I let out a breath of relief. I could trust Cas. Both Dean and Sam walked towards him, both taking long glances back at me before turning their attention to the angel.

"I wanted to give you some family time," Cas answered.

"Yeah, well that's not working out so well," Dean scoffed, quietly. The three began talking in hushed tones and Castiel looked up to me a sad smile on his face as I watched.

"Dean, Sam. You go get the car. Eleanora and I will meet you."

Sam headed out through the door without question, but I felt Dean's eyes on me and I looked up. Castiel placed a hand on his shoulder, but Dean maintained his gaze on me. I put my head down against my knees. I couldn't look at those eyes anymore. Castiel cleared his throat and I heard the shuffle of boots signaling that we were alone.

"Eleanora."

I looked up to Castiel's concerned face, "Thank you Cas," I said.

"What for?" he asked, curiously.

"For getting them to leave."

"You love your brothers, Nora. Your brothers love you."

"I can't trust them. They've hurt me," I answered.

"Eleanora, Sam was right. We don't have much time to get you out of here safely. Whatever you think Sam and Dean did to you, it wasn't real. They would never hurt you. They've been looking for you tirelessly for the last few months."

I avoided responding to his comment and looked away from him, finding the open doorway a more suitable place to set my gaze. Had it really been months since I had last seen my brothers? It felt shorter on account of the dreams. I had seen them almost daily since arriving here.

"Are you real Cas? I'm not dreaming?"

"I promise you I am real, Eleanora. Will you allow me to heal you? I will have to touch you."

I nodded slowly and Cas took a tentative step towards me, kneeling down beside the bed and placing his hand over my abdomen. I felt warmth through my body and after a moment, all of the physical pain I had been feeling was gone. When he pulled his hand away, he placed it on my shoulder, squeezing briefly, in what I knew to be a sign of affection. I launched myself towards the angel with more energy than I had had in weeks, latching my arms around his neck and kneeling on the floor with him. He casually slipped his arm under my knees and pulled me to his chest as he stood, taking a few steps towards the door.

"You're safe now, Eleanora. I will have to leave you with your brothers though. Sam and Dean will care for you," he said when I tensed up, walking towards the rooms I had frequented for torture.

"No, Cas. Please stay," I whined, tightening my grip on him, "I need you."

"I have matters to attend to in Heaven, Eleanora. You are save with your brothers. You know that, right?"

I kept my head tucked under his chin to avoid a response.

"Eleanora?" he prompted. I could feel the vibration in his chest as his deep voice sounded.

I nodded silently into his chest.

"Just remember that then. Remember that it wasn't real. And I will check on you when I can. You can pray to me if you need to, but I promise that you're safe now."

Neither of the boys said a word as Cas carried me out of the building and towards the Impala. Dean pulled the door open for him to slide me in the backseat.

"Would you like me to help you sleep?" Cas asked.

I shook my head furiously as I pulled away from him and slid to the other side of the car.

"You need some sleep, kiddo," Dean answered and I glared up at Dean before Castiel's voice brought my gaze back to him.

"I will not go against your wishes, Eleanora. I understand your need for control right now," Cas said, "But Dean is correct. You need your rest. You have been through a great deal."

"I will," I answered, allowing myself to inch back towards him. Castiel placed his hand on top of mine and squeezed gently before he stood up, shutting the door behind him.

I could hear their muffled conversation as I found my favorite blanket, neatly folded and stashed on the floor behind the driver's seat. I wrapped myself in the fabric and allowed the familiarity of the Impala's backseat to lull me to sleep.