I think I've made you all suffer long enough. Here is the next chapter. You'll probably need tissues. And this chapter holds a warning. Here there be torture.

Cindy.

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When awareness returned to him, John wasn't sure he wanted it. His head felt like he had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson and come to think of it so did the rest of his body. Each breath he took brought extreme pain to his ribs and his left wrist throbbed. John peeled his eyes open and immediately scrunched them shut again when he was assailed by bright light bouncing off white walls.

"What he hell?" John whispered, his muddled brain unable to comprehend where he was or what had transpired to bring him here.

A soft voice had him opening his eyes once more and he blinked as he focused on the woman's face that hovered over him.

"Mr. Winchester? How are you feeling?" the woman queried with concern.

"Wh-where am I? What happened?" John rasped.

"You're in the ER sir. You were in an automobile accident. From what I understand, you're lucky to be alive," the woman replied.

Suddenly the morning's events slammed into John and his breath hitched as he began to panic. The loud crack, the car rolling then everything going black. John tried to sit up but the woman pushed him gently but firmly back down.

"M-My boys! Where are my boys?" John cried.

"First, I'm Nona. I'm your nurse during your stay in the ER. Now, your son Daniel is resting a few rooms down. He has a slight concussion and bruised ribs. Your other son, Dean, is in surgery to remove a bullet from his left arm. He also has a slight concussion but both boys are going to be fine," Nona explained.

"Sam…what about Sam?" John asked as he digested the news of his older boys.

"I'm sorry Mr. Winchester. Who's Sam?" Nona queried.

"What? S-Sam's my other son. Is he okay? Is he hurt badly?" John cried, his panic level rising.

"Mr. Winchester, only you and your two sons were brought in. There was no one named Sam with you," Nona explained, sure that John's head injury was causing his confusion.

"My youngest son was with us in the car! I want to know where he is! What have you done with my boy!?" John screamed as he fought his way off the gurney.

Nona fought to keep John lying down but the man's strength was too great. She ran to the sliding door and screamed for help. Within seconds, two orderlies rushed into the room and grabbed John's arms and attempted to push him back onto the gurney.

"Get off me! I have to find my baby!" John screamed, fighting with all he had to break free.

Suddenly Bobby rushed through the open doorway and ran up to his frantic friend. John stopped fighting when he saw Bobby, his eyes pleading with his friend.

"B-Bobby…where's Sammy? Why isn't he here?" John cried as he pulled his arms free, noticing for the first time the cast on his left wrist.

Bobby grasped John's shoulders and pushed him to a seated position on the gurney. He swallowed nervously, dreading having to tell John that his youngest son was gone.

"Johnny, I…I'm sorry. Sam's gone. He's…I don't know where he is," Bobby said softly.

"Gone? What do you mean gone?" John queried fearfully.

"I found the crash John. You, Daniel and Dean were unconscious and…and Sam was gone. There was another vehicle there 'cause I saw tire marks other than yours…" Bobby explained.

John stared in disbelief at his friend as Bobby's words cut through his very soul. "Wilcox? Did Trenton Wilcox take my baby?" he asked, his chest heaving as he tried to draw air into his lungs.

"Yeah Johnny. I'm sure it was him. The police found a cloth soaked with chloroform on the hood of the car. Someone shot out your tire and caused you to crash…" Bobby replied sadly.

"How long?" John questioned softly.

"What do you mean John?" Bobby asked.

"How long has that animal had my son?"

"I'm not sure, but probably about four hours," Bobby answered.

"Oh God…he could have done anything to Sammy by now," John cried as he pushed off the gurney, reaching a hand out to Bobby when a wave of dizziness washed over him.

"Johnny, sit down…you have a concussion," Bobby said as he steadied his friend.

"I'm not sitting on my ass when that maniac has my son!" John shouted.

Nona, who had remained to the side throughout the exchange, stepped forward and placed a hand on John's shoulder.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm sure the police are looking for your son. You need to rest," she said softly, her heart breaking at the look of sheer panic in her patient's eyes.

John shook her hand free and began to search for his clothes. "I'll rest when my son is back with his family where he belongs! Why don't you go take care of someone who actually needs you!?" John spat.

"Mr. Winchester…please…" Nona started but stopped at the glare she received.

"Look, I'm sorry. This isn't your fault, but I don't have time to sit here. My son is missing and the police aren't going to find him. That's my job…" John said, pulling on his jeans, which he had found in a bag in the corner of the small room.

"Johnny…Caleb and Joshua are out there along with Detective Casey. I'll head out there too. Maybe you should stay here with Daniel and wait for word on Dean," Bobby said, hoping to convince his friend to rest for a while.

"No Bobby. I have to find Sam. I-I can't sit around when he's out there," John said in reply.

"Do you really want a stranger to tell Daniel about Sam and Dean when he wakes up? Don't you think it would be better coming from you? Look John…I get it okay, but you have two sons right here who need you. Caleb, Joshua and I will be out there looking for Sam. You need to be here for Daniel and Dean."

John stared ahead, his emotions playing over his face for all to see. He knew Bobby was right and that his friends would do everything in their power to find his baby boy but he couldn't shake the feeling that he would be abandoning Sam to the monster who had him if he stayed at the hospital. Finally, John made his decision.

"Okay…fine. I'll stay here until Daniel wakes up and Dean is out of surgery. I'll tell them about Sam, but then I'm out of here. I can't abandon Sammy. I just can't," John said solemnly.

"You're not abandoning him Johnny. Now, I gotta take off. You call me as soon as you hear about Dean okay?" Bobby said softly.

John nodded then turned to Nona. "Take me to my son. I'm no longer a patient here," he said firmly.

Nona nodded and waited for John to finish dressing then led him to where Daniel lay sleeping. John pulled up a chair and sat next to the gurney, his eyes falling to the bandage on the left side of Daniel's forehead. He looked up at Nona as she began to speak.

"He's going to be fine Mr. Winchester. He had a short gash on his forehead that was stitched up and he has a slight concussion and bruised ribs. All and all you and your sons were very lucky," she said softly.

"I don't think lucky is the word to use nurse," John said tiredly, his eyes never leaving his eldest son's face.

Nona looked on with sadness, not knowing exactly what was going on but seeing the anguish in the man's eyes. After hearing the two men talk earlier about a younger son who apparently was missing, Nona had begun to pray for the family. She didn't know where the mother was but she somehow sensed there wasn't one. The nurse could see the fierce love this man had for his children and could only pray that the youngest was found safe and unharmed.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm going to leave you for awhile. I'll try to find out what's going on with your other son. If you need anything just push the call button," Nona said with a warm smile.

John looked up and a sad smile graced his lips. "Thanks…for everything," he whispered.

Nona nodded and left the room, turning to look over her shoulder just in time to see John take Daniel's hand in his.

John grasped Daniel's hand gently, his thumb rubbing calming circles over his son's knuckles. John rubbed a tired hand over his face then gazed once more on Daniel's peaceful face. His eyes welled as he thought about how utterly screwed up their lives had become. He had one son unconscious, one in surgery with a bullet wound, and his youngest, his baby, was missing and most likely with a monster who meant to kill him. The tears poured over his lids and trailed down his cheeks, but John didn't notice. He had to fix his family, but in order to do that, first he had to get his older boys well and out of this hospital then they had to find his baby boy. He prayed that any damage done to him, both physically and emotionally, wouldn't be beyond repair.

John straightened as Daniel began to slowly roll his head from side to side, a soft moan falling from his lips. Tired, pain filled eyes opened and stared around in confusion before falling on John's concerned face. The confusion was soon replaced with fear when Daniel glanced around and didn't see his brothers.

"D-Dean? Sammy?" Daniel queried, his voice hoarse.

John sighed, hating the news he had to relay to his eldest son. "Dean's in surgery. He was shot in the arm," John answered nervously.

Daniel swallowed then turned wide eyes back on John. "And Sammy?" he questioned, his stomach flip flopping wildly.

John closed his eyes, gathering his emotions. He looked back up, his eyes filled with anguish. "G-Gone…Wilcox took him Danny," he said softly as he squeezed Daniel's hand.

Daniel closed his eyes and softly began to cry.

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Trenton Wilcox sat on the edge of the bed he'd set up in his 'special' room, his eyes trailing over his unconscious 'guest' hungrily. He itched to begin the torture he had planned for his father's murderer but preferred the boy to be awake so he could relish in the screams that would fill the small room. Sam lay curled on his left side, a position he had unconsciously pulled himself into when Wilcox had dropped him unceremoniously to the thin mattress. Sam's knees were pulled up to his chest and his right arm lay draped over his legs.

Wilcox grasped Sam's shoulder roughly and pushed him back until his shoulders were flat on the mattress. He turned to the table beside the bed and studied the weapon filled tray that sat there. He selected a sharp looking, medium length knife and picked it up, fingering the blade. He turned his attention back to the boy and reaching out his free hand, he grasped Sam's chin and pulled his face front and center. He trailed the side of the knife blade down Sam's cheek then drew the tip across Sam's lips, a thin line of blood forming in its wake.

Wilcox lifted Sam's right arm and turned it so the underside of his forearm was visible. He rested the blade across Sam's forearm and drew the blade toward himself, slicing deeply into the tender flesh. Wilcox smiled when Sam groaned and weakly tried to pull his arm away. After slicing another line parallel to the first one, Wilcox pressed Sam's freely bleeding arm against the teen's tattered tee shirt, allowing the blood to soak the thin material. Next he positioned Sam's arm over his drawn up legs and squeezed the injured arm until blood trickled in a slow stream from the cuts and dripped steadily onto Sam's jeans, the denim soaking up the thick fluid thirstily.

Once Wilcox was satisfied that enough blood had been spilled, he reached to the table and grabbed an alcohol soaked bandage and began to wrap it tightly around the injured limb. Wilcox delighted in Sam's groans and whimpers and paused long enough in his bandaging to push the record button on a small tape recorder he had set up on the table. He finished bandaging Sam's arm then squeezed it cruelly causing Sam to cry out in pain.

Sam's eyes shot open and he peered around fearfully. He pressed himself into the mattress when his eyes fell on Wilcox. Sam tried in vain to pull his arm free from the demented man but the only reward he received was a vicious twist of the limb, eliciting a pain filled yelp from his lips. Wilcox shoved Sam's arm away and chuckled lightly.

"Welcome to your new home Sam. I hope the accommodations are to your liking," Wilcox taunted as he leaned in toward the terrified boy.

"S-Stay away from m-me," Sam stammered, his attempt at sounding brave falling painfully flat.

"How's that head of yours feeling Sammy boy?" Wilcox queried with a laugh, his hand reaching out to finger Sam's hair.

"Don't touch me! Leave me alone!" Sam spat, a little more force in his voice this time.

"Oh, I'm gonna do a lot more than touch you Sammy boy," Wilcox hissed.

Wilcox suddenly grabbed Sam's shirt and with the knife he still held he cut through the thin material and ripped it from Sam's body. Sam cried out, trying to fight the larger man off but his old injuries coupled with his most recent ones and the drugs that still pumped through his system kept him from gaining anything but a sharp slap across his face. Wilcox grabbed Sam's left wrist and forced it into the cuff that was attached to the corner bedpost, laughing as Sam kicked and screamed. Wilcox proceeded to restrain Sam's right wrist then smiled cruelly down at the struggling boy.

Wilcox moved down the bed and removed Sam's shoes and socks then attached each ankle to their respective posts at the foot of the bed. As Sam bucked and twisted as far as his body could move, Wilcox began to cut his jeans from his legs. Sam screamed and cried as terror spread through him at the touch of the blade against his skin.

"NO!! Leave me alone! Don't touch me!" Sam screamed as Wilcox cut through the last thing holding Sam's jeans together.

Wilcox pulled the thick denim from under Sam and tossed it onto the chair near the bed where the destroyed tee shirt had already been placed. He ran the cold blade over Sam's abdomen, the boy's skin prickling at the sensation. Wilcox moved back up the bed and reached out, grabbing Sam's hair and yanking his head up from the mattress. He leaned over Sam, knife in hand and Sam cried out in a panic.

"No! What are you doing!? N-No…don't…ARGH!!!!!!!!"

Sam's bloodcurdling scream tore through the room, drowning out Wilcox's laughter. Blood dripped to the bare mattress then Sam's head was dropped back down, covering the droplets. Sam groaned in pain, his head lolling over his right shoulder. Wilcox reached for a syringe that lay on the table and plunged the needle into Sam's arm.

"Sweet dreams Sammy," Wilcox hissed as Sam's eyes closed and he fell into a drug induced slumber.

Wilcox picked up the tape recorder and spoke into the built-in microphone, an evil grin curling his lips.

"I hope you enjoyed listening to session one. Session two will be coming soon. Until then, pleasant thoughts and sweet torture."

Wilcox flipped off the recorder and removed the tape. He slipped something into a small baggie, gathered together Sam's clothing and the tape and left the room, leaving his captive shivering on the bed, his only cover from the chilled air his thin cotton boxers.

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That's it for now. There will be more later. I'll probably post two more chapters today. Please let me know what you think.

Cindy.