Here is the next chapter everyone. Sorry it came so late. I just got in from work. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 3

Sam slowly regained consciousness and opened his eyes. He was in a pitch black room. He knew it was small, even though he couldn't see, because the walls were closing in on him. He groaned and attempted to wipe his hands over his face but realized that his hands were tied behind his back. How did he get here, he wondered? What had happened? He couldn't remember. He tried to think. He had been in a hospital room. The doctor was going to release him the next day but he wanted him to have some more antibiotics first. He had taken Dean to examine him and Dean had never come back. Where was his brother? Where was Dean? He tried hard to remember but it just wouldn't come.

There was a scraping sound. The door across the small room opened. Light flooded inside. Sam blinked against the glare as a figure came inside. He was right. The room was only big enough for a cot and a commode. The figure approached him. "Who are you?" asked Sam. "Why am I here? Where is my brother?" The man walked closer to Sam. Sam was shocked. It was the doctor but he had changed. His eyes were cold, hard. He couldn't believe that this was the same man who had been so friendly before.

"Doc, what's going on?" asked Sam. "I don't understand. Why am I here? Why am I tied up? What do you want?" asked Sam but he dreaded the answer.

"Revenge" said the doctor. "I want revenge."

"Why?" asked Sam. "What did I do?"

"Not you, Sam. I want revenge on your brother."

"Dean didn't do anything," said Sam. "Why do you want revenge on him?"

"Because Sam, my brother died because of Dean!"

"What!" said Sam in shock. "Who was your brother?"

"His name was Cody. He was the deputy in this town. Now he's dead!"

"Oh God, are you a Satanist?' asked Sam.

"No, I'm not. This has nothing to do with Satan. There's nothing supernatural about this. This is just good, old fashioned revenge!" said the doctor.

"Dean didn't kill your brother doc. Your brother shot him. It was only supposed to be a flesh wound but it got infected and Dean got very sick. Cody decided to help him. He gave him medicine..."

"Yes, I know." said the doctor, cutting Sam off. "Because he decided to help Dean, the sheriff shot him! He blew him away!"
"Dean didn't ask Cody to do that. He never asked him to help. It was his choice. It wasn't Dean's fault. He didn't kill your brother!"

"It doesn't matter to me whether it was Dean that pulled the trigger or not. Cody's dead! He died because of your brother. You will die Sam. Dean will know what it's like to lose his brother. When I get through torturing Dean, I will kill him too!" said the doctor as he walked up to Sam.

"Why?" Sam asked. "It wasn't Dean's fault!"

"I don't care. It's payback time!" He untied Sam's hands and pulled a gun,
leveling it on him. "Get up!" he said. Sam slowly got to his feet. "Over there!" said the doctor motioning toward the cot. Sam walked over. "Now lay down!" he said.

"Don't do this! Please! Where's my brother? Is he hurt?" asked Sam.

"Lay down or I will blow your head off!" Sam had no doubt that he would do it, so he lay down. There was a strap on each side of the bed which the doctor used to strap Sam down. Sam noticed that he still had a heparin lock in his arm. He looked up at the doctor who withdrew a needle from his pocket. He inserted it into the IV port, delivering the drug into Sam's bloodstream.

"Please, don't," Sam pleaded but the drug was already taking effect. Sam got very sleepy. He felt like his body weighed a ton as he drifted off into unconsciousness. His last thoughts before he passed out were of his brother. "Dean," he said weakly as he slowly went under.

The doctor left the tiny room and slid the bookshelf back in front of the door. He looked across the basement at another set of bookshelves on the opposite wall. They were in front of the room where Dean was being held. The doctor smiled. If anyone was to come down and look, they would never even know about the two rooms. He could keep them here as long as he wanted and no one would ever know the difference. He went upstairs to his living room and sat down on the couch. He picked up the picture of his brother Cody.

He looked at it as emotion welled up inside of him. "I'll get him back for you Cody, I promise. Dean won't get away with letting you die. He'll be sorry. I'm not just going to kill Sam. That would be too easy. They're both going to pay." The doctor began crying softly. He fell asleep on the couch, the picture of Cody on his chest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slowly, gradually, Dean emerged from the mire of his unconsciousness and realized that he still lay in the dark basement room. The two liter bottle he had drunk from earlier lay empty on the concrete floor.

He didn't remember finishing it off. He remembered drinking it while he racked his brain for a plan of escape and then he'd grown so sleepy that he'd hardly been able to think. Had the doctor drugged his water?
He squinted up in the direction of that small vent above his head. He'd heard voices coming from it. Two men. He forced himself to sit up and looked around in the darkness. He got up and stumbled drunkenly to the door. He felt a light switch next to it and turned it on.

The bulb at the center of the ceiling cast the place in a yellow glow, revealing exposed studs and tarpaper, like a room that had never quite been finished

He tested the door knob and found that it was locked. It was a metal door, not something he'd be able to kick through. He banged on it with his fist. He had to get out of here. He had to find Sam, but the door wouldn't budge.
Giving up, he leaned back against the wall and tried to think. The room had no windows through which to escape. The vent in the ceiling over his cot was no more than six by eight inches.

He turned to the wall and wondered if he could kick or beat his way through the sheet rock. He peeled back the tar paper but saw only cement beneath it. "Shit!" he said aloud. There was no way to break through. Where was Sam? What were they doing to him? He wasn't really ready to face this again, thought Dean. He still had not recovered from the last ordeal yet. "Hold on Sam!" said Dean, but he had a bad feeling that Sam was in real trouble.