A/N: Thanks to everyone who keeps reviewing. Also... Warning, character death in this chapter.

Chapter sixteen

Sam had given up trying to be smart to his captors; in the beginning it had been amusing to provoke and frustrate them, it had even been worth the savagery of their retaliation, but now he was too tired to keep it up. He had barely been allowed a wink of sleep since he'd been snatched three days ago and he'd been given sparing amounts of food and water. Just enough to keep him alive and concious, but not enough to assuage the symptoms of hunger and thirst.

He blinked at his latest torturer, struggling to focus his eyes. Was the bastard actually grinning at him?

If he could just get a few moment's sleep he would be able to hold out longer. At the moment he felt like he was about to simultaneously implode and fall to pieces. He was an old empty shed on the brink of collapse. He put all his energy into taking another breath only to have it snatched from his lungs as something collided with his diaphram.

Sam gasped for air and almost smiled in relief when it wouldn't come and the darkness closed in, yet the only outward signal he could muster was a twitch in one corner of his mouth.

The dark was nice. It was peaceful, Sam decided.

As Sam was yanked from unconsciousness he all at once noticed he was no longer in that basement, that across from him, tied up were his friends and family, and there wasn't an inch of him that wasn't insistently pointing out that he had allowed himself to be horrendously abused.

He was confused, why on earth were Bobby, Dean and John in the same room as each other? Not to mention Jess and Rufus' presence and in the place where he was being held? Whatever, that wasn't the most important thing right then.

His eyes darted around his new environment and after a few seconds he had scanned the room, he noticed there was only one door and the darkness outside the few small windows set high up in the walls prevented him from determining whether he was on the ground floor or higher. He also counted eight hostiles ranging widely in build and arms before he allowed his gaze to settle on his family.

"Well I'm pretty sure this wasn't part of the plan," Sam said.

Bobby chuckled without humour, "You can say that again."

"S-Sam?" stammered Jess.

"It's ok Jess," Sam put on his most reassuring smile even though he knew the rest of his appearance must be anything but reassuring, "These guys really don't know how to hit properly."

He expected retribution and he got it. The dreaded cattle prod was jammed into the back of his shoulder. His muscles seized like they had so many times over the last few days and, even after the prod was removed, he had trouble suppressing residual tremors and relaxing his muscles.

"Hey!" he heard Dean about loudest over the protestations of the others, "Why don't you bring some of that over here douchebag! You know I never really liked you, I prefer having conversations with people who can count higher than their fingers and toes."

"Dean you son of a bitch-" the guy with the cattle prod snarled as he strode towards Dean only to be halted by Kaiser.

"Now, now Vince. We don't want to get too carried away, let's not forget why we're here."

"Aren't we here because of Dean? What's the point of we can't actually teach him a lesson?" Vince replied spitefully.

"Yes but the lesson I'm trying to teach him is that his actions affect others," Kaiser explained with the same long-suffering patience of a parent trying to deal with a chronically unruly toddler.

Vince slunk back into the shadows behind Sam, muttering darkly as Kaiser took centre stage, a place he clearly relished, and surveyed his audience with no small amount of malice.

"Kaiser don't you think this is all getting a bit out of hand? Six people are a lot harder to make disappear quietly than one or two." Dean tried to reason.

Kaiser turned to face him, "Maybe you're right. But we're past the point of no return now."

"The hell we are!" exclaimed Bobby, "You can let us all go now. We can just walk out the door and we'll never have to see each other again."

"Yeah, that sounds like an awesome idea to me." Chimed in Rufus.

"Gentlemen, if only it were that simple." Replied Kaiser with mock regret, "See, Sam's here not just because of Dean. I told you a client had an interest him, quite a strong interest actually. Obviously I had to explain my intentions, and he was very amenable to waiting until I was done with him." Kaiser turned his gaze slowly to Sam with the wrath of a man who had worked hard and with extreme violence to achieve unquestioning obedience in his subjects only for it all to be brought down by him.

"Who the hell is so interested in me?" Sam forced his voice to stay steady and, stealing strength from the proximity of his family, poured all the defiance he had left into his posture and his glare.

"You'll kick yourself," Kaiser warned, his mood switching with a swiftness that strongly indicated some sort of mental instability, "I'm starting to get a little bored of this whole situation now anyway. He said he would prefer you alive but he wasn't fussed about the condition you'll be in when I hand you over."

Kaiser nodded at someone behind Sam - Vince, he assumed - and Sam felt the cattle prod being thrust into the top of his spine. The infamous jolt burned and seared along his nerves as every muscle fibre locked up, he felt like his brain was being melted and shaken out of his ears. His diaphram stuttered and convulsed within his chest and the sensations continued to multiply as the prod was held firmly against him still. His jaw was locking up tighter by the second and Sam started to worry about breaking his teeth.

He refused to scream, though. Jess was here and she was probably scared enough as it was.

When the prod was eventually removed Sam was desperately gasping for air, his head felt on the brink of bursting and he could feel the electrical burn on his back. His ears, which had heard only his erratic heartbeat while the prod had been touching him, began to pick up the chaotic sounds of people shouting. He could even smell his own burnt flesh.

As his breathing began to lose it's jagged desperation Kaiser appeared in his eye line and commanded, "Beg for mercy."

He couldn't gather enough energy to glare at Kaiser in defiance with the intensity he wanted to, but he was adamant there was only one answer he could give. "No."

The dreaded weapon was turned on him again. His determination not to scream quickly wavered and shattered, he was pushed to the limits of consciousness every time the current was applied but was never allowed the respite he secretly longed for. Between each round he was given the opportunity to beg for mercy, and his refusals became more breathless until gave up trying to give an audible answer and instead just remained silent. He didn't even try to count the amount of times he was shocked, couldn't even look at the people across from him, fiercely - strangely, Sam thought, in some cases - advocating his cause...

Didn't Dean hate him? He had ruined his chance to reunite with his father.

Wasn't John disgusted by him? He was no better than the monsters he hunted after all.

Were they just angry because Sam had gone and got himself captured and now here they were too?

He didn't understand and, since it wasn't immediately important, he pushed his confusion away and focused on simply enduring.

As his breathing eased once more and no more pain was forthcoming, Sam looked up at Kaiser. The older man was stood over him, frowning in either thoughtfulness or displeasure or some mix of the two. He didn't know how he had managed to keep from begging for it all to stop. He yearned for it, he had been tortured almost continuously for three days straight - Sam suspected the only reason he was given bathroom breaks was his captors refusal to clean him up or endure the smell, although he wasn't exactly smelling very fresh as it was...

Those brief naps he had been allowed and the small amount of sustenance had only been enough to fuel his survival, not his will and he felt the edge of collapse dance around the edge of his reach once again.

Sam's friends had grown quiet and he glanced at them, noting the prevailing emotion across all their faces to be worry as they gazed back at him. Even Rufus, a man whose company he had kept cumulatively for a handful of days at most, seemed awash with concern. Likewise John, whose history of being in the same room as him could be counted in mere hours, seemed agitated.

Sam continued to fight his own body for control. He knew he had to give a sign that he hadn't given up but just breathing was currently using most of his reserves. He tried to smile but feared it looked outwardly more like a grimace.

After a few more wheezing breaths he managed to gather the energy to say, "See? I told you they couldn't hit properly."

Kaiser scowled and took a measured step back before turning on his heel and striding out of the room, flanked by four of his men.

"Sam! Talk to me buddy, how're you holding up?" Dean asked as the door closed.

Sam took a few more moments before he answered, "Just another day in the life."

"Shut up." Said one of the guys behind him.

"Bite me," was Dean's witty reply.

The gangster lifted his arm to backhand Dean but one of the other thugs quickly stepped in and grabbed his wrist before he could deal the blow. "You heard Kaiser," Dean's rescuer said, "Dean's gotta learn his actions affect others." Malicious, knowing grins were slowly forming on both of their faces and they looked meaningfully to someone stood behind Sam who promptly dealt him the backhand instead.

"Hey!" protested Dean.

"You want your brother to get bitch-slapped again?" warned the gangster that seemed to be slightly quicker than the others.

Dean seethed, glaring daggers at his former family.

Anything else that might have been said was interrupted by the door opening again to admit just Kaiser and one other stranger this time. The pair came to stand before Sam and inspected him in the same manner someone might inspect livestock.

"Well aren't you a slippery son of a bitch," muttered the stranger.

Sam looked carefully at the stranger's face trying to find some spark of familiarity but couldn't find anything until his eyes - previously brown - flashed sickly yellow.

"You," he breathed. Of course it would be Azazel, why hadn't he seen it sooner?

"Yep, it's me. I finally found you again, although I'm not happy I had to rely on humans to do it." Azazel replied.

"Is that a demon?" Rufus asked, drawing everyone's attention.

"What did you say he was?" Kaiser asked disbelievingly.

"He's a demon! You made a deal with a goddamn demon you moron!" Replied Rufus angrily.

Kaiser turned to look at Azazel doubtfully but he was ignored. Instead the demon turned to look at the thugs stood behind the superfluous hostages and said, "Can't you shut them up or something?"

As Sam's friends were being roughly gagged Azazel turned his attention back to Sam, "I'm impressed though, what's it been? Three years?"

"I'm not going to join you and your evil army," Sam ground out in what he had hoped would be a commanding tone, but which in fact came out rather breathless.

"Sam. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist."

"I won't do it." He maintained.

Azazel laughed, "You think you're good? You think you're better than everyone else? Well you're a stubborn bastard, I'll give you that; but how many people do you think can kill their own mother and still be good?"

Sam swallowed and looked down at his feet. He knew he wasn't good, how could he be? But that didn't mean he had to be worse.

Muffled noises of shock and disbelief echoed from behind Azazel, but Sam couldn't bring himself to look up. It was bizarre enough that Bobby and Jess could somehow still stand to be in his presence, but to expect or even hope for the same from anyone else, especially Dean and John... Well, he wasn't that naive.

"What? No more witty replies?" Azazel chuckled, "the thing is... If you don't join me, I might as well kill you. And I don't really want to do that Sam. See, I like you, you've got real potential, whether you want to admit it or not. The way you got that bullet right between your mother's eyes was just beautiful. Your soul's got an even bigger stain on it now, there's no way you're gonna go anywhere but hell when you die. Might as well enjoy the ride until you get there."

"No." Sam replied emotionlessly, it was his only option. If he allowed himself to feel, to react the what Azazel was saying he would lose himself.

"You're already enjoying it though, aren't you? You can't deny that the last three years have been the best of your life. You're glad she's dead." The demon accused.

"I'm not."

"Well how about I kill your friends instead? I think maybe the pretty little blonde should be the first to go." As he was speaking Azazel sauntered over to Jess and grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of her head.

Jess was openly terrified, she had tears in her eyes and was looking pleadingly at Sam.

"Stop it!" He rasped desperately as he tugged at his bindings, losing his self control already.

"No can do Sammy. Not until you join me."

"Just kill me instead!" Sam begged.

"Nah, this is more fun," Azazel tormented as he yanked Jess' head closer to him.

"Why do you even want me to join you so bad? Just kill me and let everyone else go, you don't need them."

Azazel studied Sam for a few seconds then sighed. "You know what Sam? You're right; you're more trouble than you're worth and I really should just kill you..." He conceded, a grin slowly splitting his face, he released Jess and began to saunter over to Sam before he stopped abruptly. "But since I've come all the way out here, I might as well have a little fun before I walk away empty handed."

Azazel raised his hand almost languidly, his expression so malevolent it could only be assumed by one who had been twisted and corrupted by the lowest levels of hell, and clicked his fingers. Jess' head twisted sharply to the side before lolling back on her shoulders.

The crack seemed louder than it had any right to be.

Sam was still wishing he could discount the evidence of his own senses as he felt himself screaming while he stared at the horrifying tableau before him. The overhead lights burst, sending showers of golden sparks dancing across the room. His friends were screaming too. He wasn't even sure if he was saying any words... He was just giving voice to his raw grief as ripped its way through his throat.

Sam's grief renewed his strength and he struggled even harder against his restraints. He raged at the demon as it began smirking and practically ambled towards him. Sam's whole world came to a sharp focus on Azazel as everything else faded away. He couldn't care about the bruising, the burns... All of it was rendered insignificant.

Jess was dead.

"Here's a little trick I learned from an old enemy." The demon whispered kneeling in front of Sam and placing his borrowed fingers at Sam's temples.