AN: Man, there's a lot more bad language in this one than normal. Sorry, but Dean got angry, ya know? And I just don't see him saying dangnabbit or something similar.

* * *

Beware the fury of a patient man.

– John Dryden

Dean understood fury. Given the life he lived, he'd gotten used to it, embraced its burn. What he didn't do was let it go unvented. It was a gift of his to find outlets – usually ganking something. Drinking. Sex. Lately, cooking. (But don't tell anybody about the last one.)

Instead of working out his red-hot fury right now, Dean was stuck in a damn cage while Baako, the bastard, stood behind Sam in his prissy suit with a wire around Sam's neck and threatened his life. Sam's arms were pulled back at an awkward angle by more wire wrapping his arms together so tightly that blood leaked through his shirts a few places. And if Dean didn't already know that the vamps were heartless assholes, they'd killed Hooch right in front of him and Dean couldn't do a damn thing to stop that either. Yeah, Dean had kind of wanted to kill the old Hunter himself – until he'd seen evidence of just what he'd been through. Then he wanted to kill the stupid bloodsuckers...repeatedly.

"I choose my children carefully," intoned Baako. He really did like the sound of his own voice. "They all have a specialty. Matthew, for example, is an extraordinary hacker, which is extremely helpful for procuring funds and keeping ourselves hidden, which is extra important since the pesky British Men of Letters have deigned to come over here and meddle."

"God, would you shut up?" Dean groaned. He forced himself to look closely around the cage for any weaknesses when all he wanted to do was keep an eye on Sam. Actually, what he really wanted was to rip out the bars like the Incredible Hulk and beat Baako and his babies to death with them.

"Bernice's specialty," the leader continued, pitched a little louder. "Is precision. My dear, demonstrate."

The petite blonde sauntered up in front of Sam like she was walking a runway. "Which one?" she asked, studying Sam and biting her bottom lip.

"You choose," said Baako magnanimously.

Just a blur of color, Bernice's hand shot out and a small, sharp crack reverberated through the room, following almost immediately by Sam's pained gasp. Dean's eyes snapped to Sam's, saw the sheen of tears there, the shocked expression as Sam teetered, wanting to curl forward over the pain but unable to because of the garrote. His involuntary movements made some of his weight come down on the ankle that was swelling obscenely above his boot, which again threw him off balance. Dean realized what had happened – Bernice had at very least cracked a rib, possibly broken it.

"Hang on, Sammy. Breathe through it," Dean shouted helplessly. He'd seen the will in his brother's eyes to survive this, but if Sam's feet went out from under him, it was all over.

"There was a tribe in what is now Burundi that could break every bone in a person's body and never once break the skin." Baako mused, impervious to Dean's words.

"Shut it and let him go, Taco, you friggin' freak!" yelled Dean. "Let me out of here and I'll show you precision."

The prick sighed as if Dean was interrupting his after-dinner port. "Bernice, another."

This time, Sam groaned and swayed a little, making a few more spots of blood appear at his throat. His face was gray and Dean suffered for him. Broken ribs hurt like a bitch, and the position of Sam's bound arms could only make it worse. Then, having to engage your core to stay upright on one foot? Torture. Pure, literal torture, as Baako no doubt intended.

Responding to some signal Dean hadn't seen, Bernice did the flash-punch thing again, just under the first broken rib. Sam strangled groan sent a seismic shudder through Dean's body, all the way down to his toes. Sam's eyes met Dean's through wet eyelashes and Dean silently offered all the strength he could.

"Wait a moment, Bernice," purred Baako. "We don't want this over just yet."

"The hell we don't. That's enough, you sadistic bastard!" Dean couldn't help but shout, his voice crackling with anger and fear.

"You know, Mr. Heuchner was actually telling the truth." Baako smiled genially, his face creasing into pleasant lines. Dean couldn't help but think he had Mr. Roger's face but Hannibal Lector's eyes. Those ancient eyes looked off into the distance, ignoring Sam's attempts to get the pain under control and keep his balance and the low growling Dean hadn't even realized he was making. "His neighbor did come from this town after Hurricane Katrina. Unfortunately for him, I was that neighbor. I realized I had a Hunter – well, retired – living next to me and invited him to move in. He had a cage of his very own, like this one."

Dean didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to think about Hooch or the depths of the old vampire's cruelty, so he focused on the accent. Lilt at the end of the words, broad vowels…

"Actually, his cage was rather smaller. For eighteen months he was our – how might someone of your mentality say it? Chew toy. Blood bank, perhaps. It took him that long to give up how to find you two. But when we started killing children and refused to stop until he helped us, he simply couldn't live with himself."

Dean clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. "Hold on, Sammy," he said softly instead of acknowledging the cruel words. "We'll die of old age waiting for this asshat to get sick of his own voice."

Baako's voice was abruptly back to an angry hiss. "Again, Bernice."

She must have been pissed off, because this time, she hit Sam twice, and the second crack was like a pistol shot, at least to Dean's ears. Far worse was the cry Sam made and the way his eyes rolled. "Sammy! Sammy! No, you can't pass out! Open your eyes!" Dean shouted, not caring that he sounded desperate and scared. Red was blooming around Sam's neck, but somehow, with that innate strength that Dean admired so much, Sam gained control of himself and got his foot under him. He was shaking hard enough that he was still in danger of cutting his own throat.

"Well," said Baako softly, pleased and maybe impressed. "Winchesters actually live up to their billing." He tilted his head as if he were listening to a symphony instead of Sam's gasps of pain. He nodded and Bernice actually giggled as she hit Sam again. Sam sagged and gagged this time and Dean threw himself bodily against the bars that were keeping him from helping his brother.

"Let me out!" Dean practically howled. "You know what happens when someone hurts my brother? I've killed bigger, badder fuckers than you! Ask Azazel. Zachariah. King Dick of the Leviathans. Death."

"I am aware of your resume." Leaning forward, Baako dragged a finger of his free hand through the blood that ran freely down Sam's neck. He pulled it free and watched intently as the drop stretched, then plummeted to the floor to form a nearly perfect deep red circle surrounded by a nimbus of tiny spots. He did it again, watching it almost hypnotically. "Crowley himself warned my father to beware of you two." His eyes, almost vacant, shot to Dean. If Dean hadn't known it already, this little display would have proved that Baako wasn't exactly sane. If any vampires were.

Dean remembered all too well the literal bloodlust that had filled him when he'd been changed. The way the sound of a beating heart, the whoosh, whoosh of blood became so overwhelming it was all you could hear, all you could think of. (He'd stood by Lisa and Ben and had brieflt forgotten every bit of love he had for them just from the sound of their hearts pumping and a hunger for their blood, something that would haunt him as long as he lived.) Living in that state constantly, needing the warm rush of living blood over your tongue just to survive, Dean had no idea how vamps stayed even slightly sane. He was in awe over what Lenore and her nest had accomplished, not to mention Benny.

Actually, after they'd managed to kill "the old man" who'd turned Benny, Dean had asked his friend a question.

"Where are all the really old vamps, Benny?"

Benny didn't stop doing whatever it was to the dinghy's ropes."What are you talkin' about?"

"I don't mean like one or two hundred years old. I mean, like, you bloodsuckers never die of old age, right? So why haven't we ever run into one that's, like, a thousand? I mean, other than the Alpha?"

"What the – you met the Alpha?" It was the most unsettled Dean had ever seen Benny, who let the rope slip almost entirely through his hands before catching it with a curse. Seriously, when facing possible death the guy grinned, and here he was standing with his mouth hanging open like a 12-year-old boy who'd accidentally wandered into the women's showers.

Dean shrugged. "A while back. Sort of by accident. We're not besties or anything. So – are the old vamps just really good at avoiding Hunters or what?"

Benny shook his head and gave Dean an inscrutable look. "If anyone else told me they'd met the Alpha and walked away, 'specially a human, I'd call 'em a liar, brother. Anyway, there ain't a lot of old ones. From what I understand, fangs don't do so great after a certain amount of time. My kind tend to kind of lose it. A lot get themselves killed, but sometimes other vamps take 'em out outta self-preservation."

Dean stared. He hadn't expected that. "Huh. So other than Mr. Big, you guys have an expiration date."

"Makes sense, though." Benny shrugged. "I mean, that extra strength and healing and long life's gotta come at a price. It's the way the world works."

"You mean outside the liquid diet of death?"

Benny didn't laugh. "Yeah. Think about it – we're mostly human, still. Humans weren't designed to last so long."

Dean sometimes forgot just how intelligent Benny was under that southern ol' boy persona he wore. "Hey, you think your counter got reset by your vacation in Monsterland?"

Dean had related the conversation to Sam later, and his brother had dived into research, fascinated by the concept. In the end, he'd come to agree with the Men of Letters' beliefs – monsters like werewolves and shapeshifters could die of old age, but others like vampires and ghouls had "functional immortality," meaning they wouldn't die unless they were killed. And Sam guessed that the closer to human a monster was, the more likely it was for extreme age to eventually cause a catastrophic psychotic break.

All of this came back to Dean in a rush, and he stared at Baako and wondered just how far down that path he was. His was the most frightening type of insanity, because it lingered under the surface just far enough to be mostly disguised. And naturally, the monster that had them by the short-and-curlies was old, smart, strong and utterly fucking nuts. Awesome.

"My father laughed," Baako continued. "He considered Crowley a young upstart."

"Yeah, well, Crowley outlived him," Dean countered. He had been surprised to find that it bothered him that Crowley was dead, and it bothered him that it bothered him, but that was neither here nor there. "Guess he should've listened. You fangheads all think you're indestructible, and I bet you get that from your old man." Dean didn't have a plan or an endgame or anything at all except a frantic, beating need to keep the attention off his struggling, half-conscious brother. "Oh, sorry, you got it from him, past tense, since he's ash now."

Matthew suddenly inserted himself into the conversation with a half scream, half roar and threw himself toward Dean.

"Matthew, stop!" yelled Baako, a peculiar kind of echo to his voice that Dean assumed meant he was using his magical I'm-the-vampire-who-made-you powers to force the kid to obey. Christopher and Bernice threw themselves between Matthew and Dean at the same time. This left Matthew to stare over their shoulders at Dean with hatred shining from his eyes.

"'Sa matter, Matty? Daddy won't let you play with your food?" taunted Dean, and Matthew threw himself against his siblings' restraining hands.

"Father, please! Let me rip his throat out!" Matthew begged, hissing and spitting like a wet cat.

"Control yourself, child!" There was bite in the words. Baako did not appreciate losing center stage. "There is a plan."

"Yeah, Matty. Only Pops is allowed to play out his sick games with his two good little children."

Matthew was breathing hard, but when Baako barked out his name again, he hunched his way back to his post at the door. Now Bernice was the one staring at Dean with open hatred.

Baako gave a full-teeth smile that was predatory, so Dean mirrored it. He knew he should focus on the monsters in the room, plan an exit strategy, do something other than stand uselessly in the stupid cage pissing off the bloodsuckers. But he had no idea what. And he couldn't really pull his full attention away from his struggling brother. From Sam's sallow, sweating face and the pain that was written there. From the short, shallow breaths that were probably the deepest ones he could take. From wondering just how much damage he could he survive. Even now, Dean knew, he was probably slipping into shock.

God, Cas, I hope you're close.

The angel couldn't be, though. He had to be close to 400 miles away when Dean had first called to him, or even farther if he'd already started back for the bunker.

"Patience, children. We're almost finished." Baako had recovered himself, and control of the room. Christopher was listening, but the other two seemed to be obeying only reluctantly.

Dean opened his mouth again, to sow discord or buy them some time or something, but Baako preempted him by nodding to Bernice. She punched Sam twice more, machine-gun fast. As if the pain didn't reach him immediately, for a second, Sam made no sound at all. Then a long, broken and wheezing moan was torn from his throat, a sound that Dean never wanted to hear again. His feet stuttered a little and he keened softly. His entire neck and collar were painted in blood and his eyelids fluttered as he wobbled.

Dean called out to him, saying he didn't even know what. Pleas and encouragements and hold ons and you can do its and stay awakes. He discovered he was stretching his arm through the bars far enough for it to hurt and he didn't even remember doing it. He couldn't see or hear any of the vamps anymore; his world has narrowed down to is Sammy going to survive?

Just when it seemed like Sam must go down and Dean was going to watch him die (again!), his good leg stiffened up and he arched his back and his eyes opened again. They were only half open and clouded with the kind of pain that makes it difficult to think or see or anything, but Sam's eyes were open.

Every fiber of Dean's being was tuned to Sam, sending every hope that he could, every wish and desire and need for Sam to be alive and safe. He could feel the second Sam regained enough of himself to be...not good, but balanced and standing again. Sam's lips moved and through a haze of furious, unshed tears, Dean could read the ridiculous words I'm okay.

"Shit, little brother," Dean whispered, slightly awed.

Bernice looked surprised and annoyed. But Baako looked pleased and maybe even impressed. He shook his head at his daughter when she moved like she'd hit Sam again. "No, no. He has survived." Dean didn't want to spare the asshole a single thought, staring at Sam, but no longer reaching for him, wishing the psychic connection Bobby used to accuse them of having was real and he could send Sam some of his own strength. It was useless, but it was all he could offer from inside the cage. Through his distraction, Dean noticed that Baako now looked downright smug.

"Come, children," he said. "Let us give the brothers a few moments."

"Let me out for that?" Dean tried, leaving off a pejorative only with great effort, but Baako shook his head and tsked his tongue.

"Not until I am finished, Dean, as I told Sam earlier. I'm giving you a few moments alone with Sam, though he might not be up for much conversation," Baako chided almost gently. He simply let go of the garrote and nudged Sam's shoulder just enough to force him to step down on his bad ankle. With a pained shout and a sickening crunch, Sam went down hard. Dean threw both his hands uselessly through the bars as Sam fell, unable to reach him. Sam rocked back and forth on his side, making a horrible whining wheeze, insensible to anything but pain.

"Oh, dear," Baako sighed, stepping down from the box delicately. "That doesn't sound good. I imagine one of those broken ribs has hit something that it shouldn't." Sam coughed and blood ran from his mouth. "Children, we had better give the Winchesters their five minutes. If Sam lasts that long."

Dean didn't look at the vampires as they filed through a door back by the stairs, didn't react to Bernice's snickering or Matthew's sneering or the avaricious look Baako sent down at Sam or the way Christopher lingered before finally following his brethren. Dean knelt to maintain eye contact and talked over the stuttering, crackling breaths that were the only sounds coming from Sam now, wishing he could touch him, comfort him with more than just words.

"Hey, buddy. Sam. I'm here. You're not alone. I'm here, Sammy. Just breathe, okay?" he pleaded raggedly. A tear slipped from Dean's eye, because Baako was right. Things were broken inside Sam's chest, and they were miles away from the medical intervention that Sam needed right fucking now. Blood was dripping steadily from his mouth and each breath made a crackling, whistling sound. Dean knew the signs and sounds of a punctured lung. As much as Dean wanted to tell Sam to hold on, he knew it was selfish. His baby brother was dying in front of him and asking him to hold on was just asking him to prolong the agony he was in.

Dean didn't feel the next tears fall, just heard them hit the cold concrete beneath his knees. He wiped his face impatiently. If Sam could still see, Dean didn't want tears to be the last thing he saw. Dean would give his life, his soul, the entire damn world to save his brother, but the universe wasn't dealing right now. So he gave Sam the only thing he could. "Sammy, if you gotta let go, it's okay."

* * *

AN: Well, that was grueling to write! And yes, I know, cliffie. Just remember, if you shoot the writer, you'll never find out what happens!

"Mr. Rogers" was Fred Rogers, who had a children's TV show called "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood." He was known for his gentle nature. Hannibal Lector is a fictional serial killer and cannibal from a series of novels by Thomas Harris. They have been adapted into films a number of times. If you never want to sleep again, you should watch the ones with Anthony Hopkins playing the role of Hannibal.

Timelady66: You are so right! Silt reeks. We have a river nearby and when it retreats after being high for a while, the smell is so awful. *gag* I hear you about expecting the vamps to go after Sam. I expected it, too, but I know they didn't have time to follow all of the threads on the show. Thank you for being so nice. :-)

Colby's girl: I was trying to picture how tall someone would have to be to hold a garrote at the neck of a person who's like 6'4" and thought if my vamp was really old, he probably wasn't terribly tall. And I figured if I had the vamp-on-a-box, Dean would certainly mock him for it!

sfaulkenberry: I have a prediction that you'll like the line about the face of Mr. Rogers and the eyes of Hannibal Lector. *g* Here's the torture you ordered. It's a bit sadistic. I actually worried a bit that it might be over the top, then I remembered Scorched Earth and figured that was a lot worse! I felt sorry for Hooch, too. Do Hunters ever get a happy ending? Oh, and defiant Sam is one of my favorite things. The little "what can you do to me?" speech to Toni Bevell is one of my favorite moments.

Christine: Yeah, I tried to emphasize that in this chapter. In a fantastic fic by K Hanna Korossy, there's a line something likeit's harder to see than bewhich really encapsulates that mentality perfectly.

muffinroo: Oh, yay! So happy you like it! Or at least, liked it after the first chapter. *happy dance* And yup, Sam suffering, Dean going crazy pretty much sums this chapter up. Glad that you like the vamps and poor Hooch too. I feel bad that I killed him but...well, I did. Thank you for the encouragement!

Shazza: Such great ideas! I'm not going to tell you what happens next, but I will try to get the next chapter out fairly quickly, especially after a pretty nasty cliffie. Now I want to go watch that ep…

Kathy: Nice call with Hooch! I am excited that you like my weird and extraneous factoids (and faketoids that I make up)! The joke in my family is that I want to know everything, and I a kid like that too. As for Jack coming to help, this is after he ran away so it's not impossible for him to come help, just very, very unlikely. BTW, I read every single comment you left on Shikari too! Thank you!

supernaturalsammy67: Aw, you make me smile! My mind may have a million stories in it, but there's a lot of strange and confusing stuff too! lol I'm way too excited that you look forward to reading. Seriously, y'all are the reason I am motivated to keep writing. And man, you say such nice stuff. (((HUGS)))