Okay, it's update time. First, my sister, son and I made it safely to my dad's. Now, I am ready to post the next chapter for you. The good news is, I will probably be able to post a second chapter but it won't be until late tonight as we are taking Dad out to dinner then staying at his place to visit. We probably won't get back to the hotel until 9 or 10 Mountain time. Anyway, here is the next chapter. Oh, just a reminder and to all of the readers who haven't read previous stories, I do not kill Winchesters no matter what it looks like.

Cindy.

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Warehouse Basement-8:00 P.M.

Sam awoke, his sleepy eyes casting slowly about the dim room. He saw no sign of Wilcox and thought with a tiny shred of hope that he had in fact been left for dead this time. Sam gingerly sat up, relieved when the room remained still. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and eased himself up onto his feet. He hissed as his feet reminded him with burning intensity of their recent injuries, a shiver running up his spine as he remembered the torture that had left him with those injuries. Sam released his hold on the bedpost and stood for a moment, waiting to see if his legs would hold him up. Once he was sure he wouldn't fall he took a tentative step toward the cupboard. When he still remained on his feet, Sam started to slowly limp the rest of the way across the room, his hands reaching out to grasp the countertop as his knees felt as though they may buckle.

Sam steadied himself then reached down to open the cupboard door. He pulled a can of the dog food out then picked the can opener up and opened the can. Looking down, he wrinkled his nose at the dirty spoon he had used earlier and opened the drawer only to find it empty. He dug his fingers into the can and pulled out a glob of the unappetizing slop and then stuck his fingers into his mouth. He continued until the can was empty, his stomach no longer grumbling painfully. Sam stepped away from the counter and made his way carefully to the bathroom where he filled the glass with the dirty, brown water and drank the fluid down, barely holding in a gag at the putrid taste. Sam bypassed the toilet as he limped from the bathroom.

Sam looked down, his cheeks flushing as he was reminded of his nakedness. He stopped and glanced around the room, his spirits lifting when he spied his discarded boxers near the metal door that stood between him and freedom. He stepped gingerly across the room, bending down to retrieve the bloodied undergarment. Sam swayed upon standing as a wave of dizziness hit him and he placed a hand against the wall to steady himself. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths until the vertigo passed then he stepped toward the chair he had been bound to and sat down tiredly. He bent over and eased his boxers up his legs then stood and pulled them up the rest of the way.

Sam felt a fraction of his dignity return as he moved slowly back to the door of his prison. He pressed his ear against the door and when he heard nothing he reached down and tried the knob, surprised when it moved freely. Sam pulled the door open carefully and peeked out into the room beyond. He stepped from the room he'd been held in and into what looked like Wilcox's living quarters. He saw another door across the room and he started for it, stumbling as his legs gave way beneath him. He flung his hands out and grabbed the chair that sat in the middle of the room, holding on until he felt he could stand without falling.

Sam stepped tentatively toward the door again, crying out when he felt fingers fist in his hair and pull him back off his feet. He fell against something solid and shuddered when Trenton Wilcox's deep voice sounded in his ear.

"Where ya going Sammy? I thought we were having so much fun together," Wilcox asked as he pulled Sam tight against his chest.

"Sorry, but I'm n-not having fun," Sam replied, his spirits deflating as he realized escape would be impossible now.

"Well, I am and that's what's important. Now, I have a question for you," Wilcox said as he dragged Sam to the kitchenette. "Why are you still alive? I left you for two days…you should be dead."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Sam said sarcastically, his eyes falling to the knives that lay on the counter.

"I gotta hand it to you Sammy…you're one tough little son of a bitch," Wilcox said, his fingers twisting viciously in Sam's hair.

Sam grunted as Wilcox spun him around, his hip hitting the countertop painfully. He looked up, swallowing deeply at the hatred he saw burning in Wilcox's eyes. Wilcox shoved Sam against the counter, letting go of his hair only to wrap both hands around Sam's neck. Sam's eyes widened as Wilcox's hands tightened around his throat and he wrapped his hands around the larger man's wrists. Sam kicked out ineffectually as his vision began to gray. Just when he thought he would pass out, Wilcox loosened his grip and Sam sucked in lungfuls of air. His only thought was that this was it. He was going to die by Trenton Wilcox's hand and he was never going to see his family again.

"I think after I'm done with you, I may pay your family a visit," the man hissed into Sam's ear, smiling as Sam tensed. "Maybe start on one of your brothers before moving onto your dear old dad."

"I told y-you to l-leave my f-family…out of this," Sam rasped, his throat raw from abuse.

"I was gonna Sammy, until you tried to escape. Now…well, I'm pissed. I gave you a soft bed to sleep in, food…water…and this is how you repay me? Your punishment will be knowing that after you die, your family will be next," Wilcox snarled.

"No…I won't let you hurt them," Sam snapped, but cried out when Wilcox once again began to squeeze his throat.

Sam struggled against the attack, frantic to stop the man from going after his family. As Sam's struggles weakened, his hands fell away, his right arm hitting and upending a small bowl that sat on the counter. A fine powder spilled from the bowl, dusting over Sam's skin and creating a strange tingling sensation. Sam's fingers fell over something solid and he pulled the object up, realizing immediately what it was. With strength born from adrenaline and fear for his family, Sam thrust his hand upward, burying the knife he had acquired deep into Trenton Wilcox's neck.

Wilcox jerked back in surprise, his hands releasing Sam as the boy twisted the knife. Sam gasped for air and cried out when Wilcox grabbed the hand that drove the knife into him. Wilcox fell to the floor, a shocked and pain filled look on his face. His mouth opened to speak but all he could manage was a wet gurgle as blood bubbled over his lips. Sam dropped to his hands and knees, his vision growing fuzzy as the adrenaline that surged through him wore off. He glanced at Wilcox, relief washing over him as he stared into the blank, lifeless eyes of his tormentor.

Sam collapsed to the floor as his strength gave way to exhaustion and oxygen deprivation. He attempted to push himself up with shaky arms, but fell back down again. Sam's eyes rested on Wilcox and a small smile graced his lips as his eyes closed and the darkness engulfed him.

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Crash Site-2:00 A.M

John, his boys and his fellow hunters reached the top of the embankment and stepped onto the roadside, frustration evident in their tense stances. Their late night search of the crash site had yielded no new clues and the desperation the men had been feeling earlier was increasing steadily as the night wore on. They could sense they were running out of time and they were grasping at any straw that presented itself. John approached the Impala and rested his palms on the cold metal of the hood. He dropped his head down in defeat, his hunched shoulders trembling with his despair. Dean stepped up beside him, his eyes wide and questioning.

"Now what Dad? What do we do now?" he queried, his voice thick with emotion.

Daniel pulled up beside his brother and both young men stared at their father in anticipation. John sighed and lifted his head, looking out across the road before turning to look at his sons. Bobby, Caleb and Joshua stood just behind the younger men, their eyes reflecting the same defeat as John's. They had exhausted all their leads, searched everywhere possible, called in every favor owed to them but still they had come up empty handed. They all shared the same heartbreaking thought. If Sam wasn't already dead, he would be soon. What the kid had been made to endure, the beatings and torture and whatever else that the hunters hadn't been shown would surely bring about his death. John gazed at his sons, his eyes filled with such sadness it took the young men's breath away.

"We've done everything Dean. There's nothing left we can do. I'm sorry…I…I think we've lost him," John whispered, his gruff voice filled with grief.

"Wh-what? You can't be serious Dad! We're not giving up on Sammy!" Dean cried, his body shaking with anger.

John straightened and faced his boys. He dreaded to reveal what he was about to say, but knew it needed to be said. His sons stared at him, the looks on their faces filling John with renewed sorrow.

"Boys…I…I think Sammy is probably…I think he may already be…dead…" John said softly, never expecting the fist that plowed into his face.

Daniel lunged forward, his arm wrapping around Dean's chest. He pulled Dean back, screaming for his brother to stop his attack on their father.

"Get the hell off of me Daniel! Let me the fuck go!" Dean screamed as he struggled to free himself from his brother's grip.

"No Dean…just stop! This isn't helping anything!" Daniel cried, pulling back harder on his brother, cringing when Dean cried out in pain as his injured arm was jostled.

Dean suddenly stopped struggling and collapsed back against his brother, his chest heaving at the previous exertion. He stared ahead as John straightened up and turned his way, his hand holding his bleeding nose.

"Why Dad? Why have you given up? We can't give up on Sammy. He needs us…we can't abandon him," Dean whispered.

"You all are such a pathetic bunch of losers. How you've managed to survive in your chosen profession is beyond me."

The hunters jerked around to see a dark clad figure emerge from the shadows, the only feature visible were his glowing yellow eyes. Bobby, Caleb and Joshua moved to stand in front of the Winchesters, their weapons drawn.

"What the hell are you doing here? What do you want?" John hissed as he pushed between his friends to face his hated enemy.

"You know what I want John. I want Samuel. Just…not yet. Now…I'm here because you so called hunters couldn't find your asses if your lives depended on it," the yellow eyed man said coolly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daniel queried as he stepped up next to John, Dean right beside him.

The yellow eyed man waved his hand and the other three hunters were immediately relieved of their weapons, their eyes narrowing in anger at the sudden loss of security.

"Samuel isn't dead. At least not the last time I checked on him. I want to keep it that way if you don't mind. Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed the show so far, but that's just because I expected you to swoop in and rescue him. I have yet to be impressed," the man replied.

"You know where he is? Why didn't you save him?" Daniel asked, his body shaking with fury.

"Not really my thing to rescue humans," the man explained.

"Where is he? Tell us…" Dean commanded.

"You need to find him fast. He doesn't have much time. Trenton Wilcox is tiring of his game. He means for Sam to die…soon."

"Tell us where he is and we'll go find him. Quit fucking around with us!" Dean spat.

The man chuckled then turned his head, his yellow eyes staring off down the road. He raised his arm and pointed in the same direction.

"About thirty miles down this road you'll see a dirt road. McLeod Drive. Take that road and about five miles in you'll come to an abandoned warehouse. It's not very big. Samuel is being held in the basement. You need to hurry, I sense Samuel's time has nearly run out…" the man explained before walking away, disappearing into the shadows.

The men wasted no time in jumping into their vehicles and tearing off down the road. Twenty minutes later they were racing down McLeod Drive, their hearts pounding furiously. A few minutes later the warehouse came into view and the vehicles screeched to a halt near the rundown building. The Winchesters were out of the Impala and running toward the door, not needing to look to know that their friends were right behind them. They approached the door and burst through, their weapons drawn. They gazed around the trash strewn warehouse in their search for a door that would lead them to the basement. Daniel took off when he spied the door, the other men close behind.

Daniel reached the door and stopped, holding his finger to his lips to quiet his comrades. He carefully pulled the door open and listened for any sounds from below. The men started down the steps and Daniel pushed open the door at the bottom. The door opened into a living space complete with a small kitchenette.

"Sammy!?" Dean called as he rushed into the room, his eyes flitting around the small area.

"Dad…over here," Daniel called from the kitchen area.

The men hurried to Daniel's side and stared down at the floor in shock. At their feet was a huge pool of drying blood, a booted footprint right in the middle. Bloodied handprints smeared the countertop and the men glanced at each other, fear and confusion in their eyes.

"What the hell?" Bobby's gruff voice sounded, bringing the other men's attention to where he stood.

The men stepped up to Bobby, their eyes wide as they stared up at the wall that was covered with photos of Sam.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cried, his eyes moving over the images of his baby brother.

John stepped away from the group and looked through a metal door that stood open to the right of the men. He looked back at them, his eyes filled with anguish.

"What Dad? What is it? You're scaring me here…" Daniel said, his heart thumping wildly.

John lowered his eyes and stepped through the door, disappearing into the room beyond. The other hunters followed and soon found themselves in the room from the videos. The room that their youngest family member had been held and tortured in. Daniel moved to the bed, his eyes filled with tears as his fingers ghosted over the bloodstains on the dirty mattress. He looked over his shoulder when he heard a sharp intake of air. Dean and John stood looking up at the handcuffs that hung from the ceiling. Their gaze fell to the floor, their eyes glued to the dried blood pooled on the floor beneath the handcuffs.

"Where's Sammy Dad? Yellow eyes said he was still alive…so, where is he?" Dean queried, on the verge of panic.

"I don't know Dean. I just…I don't know," John answered softly.

"What the hell is this?" Joshua asked, picking up an object from beneath the bed.

"Here, give me that," Bobby said, taking the object from Joshua.

Bobby examined the object then looked up at the men who stared at him with wide eyes.

"What is it Bobby?" Caleb queried.

"Uh…it's an old cattle prod. Quite inhumane," Bobby answered, his heart sinking at the implications.

"You don't think…" Dean started, his eyes glued to the tubular object.

"I don't know Dean. Just…don't think about it," John said.

"We need to look for Sam. We need to split up. Sam could be in the building somewhere, hurt. He needs us to find him," Daniel said urgently.

"Danny's right. We need to find Sam. Split into groups of two. Leave no stone unturned," John commanded.

The men paired up and left the room, intent on finding the still missing teenager.

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Jason Renaldi loved this time of the day. The crispness of the pre-dawn air, although it was a little cooler than Jason preferred. The color of the lightening sky and the quiet hush that settled in the trees. He pulled his running shoes over his socks and tied the laces tightly. He strolled from his bedroom, his golden retriever right on his heels. He pulled his windbreaker on over his sweatshirt and retrieved a long blue leash from the peg next to the front door.

"Come here Roscoe, time for our run boy," Jason called, smiling when the dog bounded from the kitchen where it had taken a detour to grab a quick bite of kibble.

Jason attached the leash to Roscoe's collar then opened the front door, the boisterous dog pulling him out the door and down the few steps to the front yard. Jason chuckled at the large dog as he barked happily, turning to make sure his master was still behind him. Jason began an easy trot to warm up before he picked up speed to a comfortable pace. The man and his dog ran down the side of the deserted road, thrilled to be the only ones out at this early hour.

The pair had been running for nearly fifteen minutes when Roscoe raised his head, his nose snuffling the air as he picked up an unfamiliar scent. He whined deep in his throat and picked up speed, pulling on his leash, alerting his master to possible trouble.

"Hey boy…what's up?" Jason called, following quickly behind his dog, the leash pulling roughly at his hand.

Roscoe whined louder as they came around a curve in the road and Jason looked down the road, sucking in a breath when he saw what looked like a body laying on the side of the road some fifty feet ahead. The pair approached the nearly naked body, Jason covering his mouth when he saw a boy of no more than sixteen or seventeen lying partially on his side, his back leant up against a small boulder. Roscoe sniffed an outstretched hand, whining as he licked at the lax fingers. Jason dropped to his knees and reached with shaky fingers to feel the pulse point on the boy's neck.

"Ah shit," he whispered when he felt nothing beneath his fingertips.

Roscoe continued to lick at the boy's hand, his large brown eyes staring pleadingly at his master as Jason took out his cell phone and dialed 911.

"Uh…yeah. I found a body out on Jordan Road about five miles off the main road…a kid about sixteen or so…long brown hair, about 5 foot 10…no, I think he's dead…Yeah, I'll wait for the emergency crews," Jason said into the phone.

Jason flipped his phone shut and sat down on the road, his eyes resting sadly on the limp boy. He gazed at the messy chocolate hair then moved over the bloodied, bruised body, wondering with growing anger at what had happened to the kid and what kind of monster would do such horrible things. Even though he believed the boy to be dead, he still removed his jacket and laid it over his shoulders and chest, needing for some reason to offer the kid some protection and dignity. Twenty minutes later Jason heard sirens and soon an ambulance and paramedics vehicle pulled up on the opposite side of the road. A black SUV pulled up behind the paramedics, the letters on the side indicating it was from the coroner's office.

Two paramedics emerged from their vehicle and rushed across the road, dropping down next to the cold, pale boy. After a quick examination, the paramedics sat back, looking at each other as they shook their heads sadly.

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Well, that's it until late tonight. I hope you enjoyed.

Cindy.