Hey everyone. I hope everyone is still enjoying this story. Here is the next update. Let me know.

Chapter 10

Sam forced himself up on his good leg. Pain shot through him as he grabbed the water bottle, unscrewed the top, and dumped the contents into the toilet. Then he put the empty bottle in the tank where the clean water flowed in and filled it up. Desperately, he drank a third of it. The he hopped back to his bed, his nerve endings screaming out with each jolt and fell back onto his rancid sheets.

Sam looked toward the door. "Dean." he said aloud. "Don't drink the water." He had no idea that he had already drunk it. Sam knew Dean was hurt. If they didn't get out of here, they were both going to die. He didn't know what to do, but he knew that Dean wasn't going to be able to save him this time. It was going to have to be up to him. He didn't know how when he was in the shape he was in, but somehow he had to find a way out.

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

Several hours later Dean woke up again. He tried to sit up but couldn't. He looked down at his arms that were strapped to the bed. "Great!" he said as he tried to pull free. Big mistake. He moaned. Everything hurt. His head was splitting, his side was killing him, and the place where they drove in that ice pick was bloody and throbbing. He winced as he tried to get more comfortable. "What were they going to do?" he wondered. He started to cough and each time he did, pain flooded his body. He felt a little sick.

Then he heard those scraping noises again and the door opened. The doctor walked over to Dean. "Comfy?" he asked sarcastically.

"Why are you doing this?" Dean asked, coughing.

"I told you why," said the doctor. "I'm not going to repeat myself again." He took a pair of scissors from his jacket pocket.

"What are you going to do?" asked Dean eying the scissors.

"I'm going to look at that leg." said the doctor as he cut Deans jeans. It was bloody and painful. The doctor cleaned and dressed it. He felt Deans arm. It was warm to the touch. He was getting sick. He took a needle out of his bag.

"NO!" said Dean.

"Relax." said the doctor. "It's an antibiotic. I can't have you dying on me too soon now can I?" he asked as he looked back at Dean. "I'm not through with you yet."

"Look doctor. I want to see my brother again. I know he's not dead. Please!" said Dean in desperation.

"Yes he is, Dean. He's dead and it's all your fault." He took some alcohol and cleansed the cuts on his face.
"Why are you helping me now?" asked Dean.

"Because, Dean. I don't want you getting sick. I don't want you dying. I'm not through with you yet. When you die, it will be because I kill you, not because of some infection."

"You're crazy, you know that!" yelled Dean. "I want to see my brother. I want to see Sam. NOW!"

"I can't believe you're ordering me around," said the doctor. "You're the prisoner, remember. I don't care what you want. Your brother is dead. He's not coming back. He was shot and killed by my friends upstairs. Now, do you want to keep yelling at me!" shouted the doctor as he grabbed Dean and shook him, sending pain throughout his body.

"My brother is not dead!" yelled Dean and he began to cough again.

One of the men from upstairs came into the room because he heard the yelling. "Everything okay?" he asked the doctor.

"No, it's not. Dean here can't seem to remember who's in charge."

"Would you like for me to remind him for you sir?"

"Good idea," said the doctor as he stepped out of the way. Dean started to breathe heavy as the man walked over to him.

"Who's in charge, Dean?" the man asked.

"Come on!" said Dean. "Let me see my brother man!" The man hit him hard sending even more pain through his system.

"Who's in charge Dean!" he asked again. "Tell me!"

"Go to hell!" yelled Dean. The man placed both hands around Dean's throat and squeezed until Dean thought he would pass out again from lack of oxygen. Dean began gasping for breath.

"Who's in charge Dean!" said the man for the third time squeezing harder. Dean was beginning to turn blue. "Answer me!"

"The...doctor...!" said Dean. The man let go and Dean was able to breathe again.

"Don't forget!" said the man, as the doctor stepped back up to Dean's bed.

"Please!" said Dean. "Tell me the truth. Is Sam dead?" The doctor looked down at Dean. It might be more fun if he knew Sam was alive. It really would torture him if he watched his brother being hurt, thought the doctor.

"No Dean. Sam's not dead," said the doctor. Dean let out a relieved breath. "He is hurt pretty bad though." The doctor added.

"Can I see him? Please!" said Dean.
"I'll think about it," said the doctor. Yes, he thought, this will be fun. The doctor and the man left and locked the door. Dean heard the bookshelves being slid back in front of the door. He was so thirsty. His throat was on fire. He looked down at the water bottle sitting on the floor, but he couldn't get it because he was still strapped down. Dean closed his eyes. "I knew you were alive Sam, but for how long?"