Whoo Chapter 13! I had intended to include more in this chapter but it was getting long enough as it was.

Thanks to brittkw, Mango Marbles (hi!), Faezier, Pie Love Luci, and venusgirl for your reviews! They make me happy and help keep me encouraged to write.

Also, if you like my dark approach to fanfic, I recommend checking out Mango Marbles (some of my favs are: 'Leave Normal Alone' series, 'Buried Memories', 'Never Enough'), AlxM's 'Confined', and especially Lif61 (for starters: 'Taken', 'Deathless', 'I'm Sorry', 'The Cave'). Wish I could write like them, damn! And really, just check out my Favorite Stories list for a treasure trove of messed-up Lucifer- and Sam-centric stories if that's what you're into.

May be a few weeks until I update again because I have a thesis committee meeting on Dec. 13th and a manuscript that's supposed to be submitted by then. Yeah, like that's gonna happen...

Dean immediately dialed Castiel after hanging up with Bobby. His concern had not been appeased by his conversation with Bobby, nor their plan to regroup at the older hunter's home and find a way to locate his brother. Where the hell were they even going to start?! They had nothing! No leads!

"Hello, Dean," the angel's deep voice focused his attention.

"Hey, Cas, I'm sorry to call you so soon, but we got a problem. Sam's missing."

"He's still not returning your calls?"

"It's more than that. I tracked down where he was and found his car abandoned in the woods. His phone was there, smashed. It makes no sense for Sam to have done that himself, so I'm guessing it was someone else."
"Could it have been demons?"

"I don't know, maybe. I just know something is up. We need to find him. Can you sense him at all?"

"You know I cannot due to the warding on his ribs. He is hidden from me, as he is from all angels."

"I know, I know, was worth a shot…" Dean paused, considering something. "Hey, are you able to find any human? Even if you don't know them?"

"It takes much longer without a connection to their soul. Who did you have in mind?"

"There's a woman that was working with Sam, Lindsey Kangas. She might be able to help us find him."

"I will do my best to find her, Dean."

"Thanks."

"We will find him. Don't worry."

Dean suppressed a snort. "Yeah, I'll try. Talk to you later, Cas."

"Bye, Dean."

The click of the phone left him feeling oddly isolated. He didn't even want music, instead allowing his thoughts to wander to what had befallen his little brother. Knowing Sam, it was nothing good.

The sensation of wetness tracking down his face drew him from his slumber. He tried to move his arms to wipe it away but found himself restrained. As he opened his eyes, he realized it was tears that were dampening his skin. He saw he was not in the cage so he struggled to shift his body to take in his new surroundings and was met with an unfamiliar voice exclaiming "I'll be damned!" Sam froze.

"Told you so," Tim said proudly.

"But how?"

"Gordon Walker was right, he's a monster. Lucifer won't let him die, apparently."

"I knew Kubrick was on to something. Fucking hell, man! We coulda killed him back before all of this! I can't believe he started the Apocalypse."

Gordon Walker. Kubrick. Oh God. Anyone who knew both of them was sure to hate Sam with an intense passion. Like he needed another one of those people in his life. Before he had a chance to ponder the implication of his discovery further, firm hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to the middle of the room. Sam's body was dropped without care, the chain connecting his cuffed hands to his cuffed wrists tightening and biting into his flesh. He looked up into the reddened face of Kubrick's partner.

"Little Sammy Winchester. All alone. Where's big brother, huh?" Sam averted his gaze, not wishing to think of Dean now, not wanting to think of how they had been back then and how much had gone wrong in the past few years. "Not coming to save ya this time?"

"Far as we can tell, Dean likely hates his guts. How could a hunter like him tolerate having a demonic vampire for a brother?" Reggie offered.

Sam's cheeks flushed with shame as the voicemail once again assaulted his memory. "You're not you anymore. And there's no going back."

"I know I sure as hell wouldn't." Creedy crouched down low and roughly gripped Sam's face, pulling his head up at an awkward angle. "In fact, I'd kill ya right goddam now if I could. You're the reason Kubrick is dead! He and Gordon got so mixed up in it hunting your psychic freak ass! He thought killing you was a mission from God! And when Gordon turned, he killed Kubrick. He'd never have been so involved if it weren't for you!" He shoved Sam's head down into the tile and smiled at the surprised yelp of pain that left Sam's mouth. Creedy began kicking him, angrily shouting "You've ruined everything, you worthless son of a bitch!" Blood began leaking from the minimally-healed bullet wounds that riddled Sam's body.

A well-placed boot met with an unlucky rib and an audible snap could be heard over Sam's whimpers. Panic flashed over him as he remembered how important his ribs were. "The… ward… ing…" Sam gasped.

"What about it?" Reggie asked urgently, suddenly concerned.

"Bro-ken… rib… means… bro… ken… ward… Luci… fer…"

"Shit!" Reggie exclaimed. "What should we do?"

"Easiest way might be to kill him," Tim suggested calmly.

"Gladly!"

Neither Tim nor Reggie could protest before Creedy withdrew his Luger and shot Sam in the head point blank. Blood and bits of tissue misted his jeans and he couldn't hold back his triumphant laugh.

"And you're saying I can do that again in a few hours?"

Tim nodded.

Creedy's face lit in a sly smile. "Well, do I have an idea for you..."

Dean was just outside of Omaha when his phone rang. Digging it out of his pocket, he saw it was Castiel. He furrowed his brow in confusion. Could he really have found Lindsey that fast?

"Hey, Cas, did you already find her?"

"No. I was calling about another matter." Dean frowned in disappointment. There was an awkward pause as he waited for the angel to continue.

"Cas?"

"Yes, Dean."

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Oh. I wanted to let you know that right now, for a few seconds, I felt Sam."

"Felt him? Felt him how?" Ugh, that sounds wrong, Dean thought, twisting his face with disgust.

"I'm not sure. It seems some of his warding was inactivated and I was able to sense a glimpse of his soul."

"Enough to track him?"

He could picture the angel shaking his head as he answered. "Sadly, no. Just enough to get a read on what he's experiencing."

"And?"

"It's not good, Dean."

Dean's blood pressure skyrocketed. "What do you mean? Is he drinking demon blood again?"

"I don't think so, but—"

"Thank God." Relief swarmed Dean's heart. He wasn't sure he could handle a renewed devotion to demon blood.

"You didn't let me finish. His body is in excruciating pain and his soul is shrouded in fear. Whatever's happening, it is putting tremendous strain on him. His will is weakening."

The ache that had been living in Dean's chest for the past few days traveled to his throat and threatened to strangle him. "What?" Dean whispered.

"I said his body is in—"

"I heard what you said, I just, I don't… What's happening to him?"

"I can't be sure. Like I mentioned, only some of the warding was inactivated and—"

"What would do that? Inactivate the warding?"

"Could be magic, another angel, or some physical trauma to the ribs. Broken rib is the most likely scenario."

Dean winced as he felt a phantom flash of searing pain in his ribcage. He'd broken ribs before. He knew how much that hurt! "Then why did you only feel it for such a short time?"

Castiel was quiet for a few moments. "There are a few reasons I can think of. He could have been healed, the warding could have been restored, he could have been warded another way, or, uh…"

"Or what?" Dean could sense Cas's hesitation but he had to hear it.

"Or he could have died."

"No," Dean replied quickly. "We'd know. We'd know if he died." He shook his head, denial winning out over the hoard of emotions marching through his heart.

"I'm sure you're right," Castiel conceded. "The angels would sense it, too."

Dean swallowed against the agony straining his vocal cords. "Good." At least Sam wasn't dead. But he was suffering. A lot. "So, what do we do now?"

Castiel sighed. "I will resume my search for Lindsey. I assume you are going to Bobby's?"

"Yeah, I'm a few hours away."

"Bobby is very resourceful. He will have ideas."

"He better."

"I'll be in touch, Dean. Travel safely. You can't help Sam if you're dead."

"Okay, mom," he replied sarcastically.

"I am not your mother!"

Dean couldn't help but smile at the angel. He may have been observing humans for millennia, but he still had a lot to learn about his charges.

"Never mind, Cas. Bye."

He hung up and threw the phone in the passenger seat. He pushed his foot down on the gas pedal, not out of spite or rebellion, but out of relentless concern for his brother.

The unwelcomed presence of sensation made itself known as cold hands pressed against his face and his chest. Tingling warmth lanced the spreading coolness and he greeted the soothing strums of energy lapping at his wounds. Wait, his wounds… His wounds were fatal! His eyes sprung open and Lucifer's crouched body filled his vision, his arms spread to touch both of Sam's most recent severe injuries simultaneously. Sam tried to recoil but he couldn't move. He looked Lucifer in the eyes and Sam could have sworn they were glowing. Lucifer merely smiled serenely before glancing at the wounds. Sam got the message: stop struggling so I can heal you. Sam calmed slightly and looked around him, surprised to see he was in the cabin where the hunters had killed him.

Is Lucifer actually with me right now?! Sam thought with panic. No, Lucifer would just take me. This is still in my head, it has to be. As he turned back to the angel healing him, Sam's peripheral vision was filled with a golden aura of radiance. The light clung to Lucifer, no, Lucifer was its source. It was not something he had noticed before and it startled him. Lucifer raised an eyebrow at Sam's rapidly changing emotions, but continued channeling his grace into the broken human. Sam watched as light spread throughout his chest. In a way he had never experienced before, he felt the archangel's grace sifting through his cells, searching out serious injuries. It made him both curious and terrified. Though there was no pain, Sam still felt discomfort as the grace curled around the broken rib to slide it back into place and knit the bone together. The auroral gleam of light around Lucifer was suddenly no longer visible, though Sam could still see a faint pulsing illumination under his skin.

Lucifer withdrew his grace quickly, leaving a faint emptiness within Sam, and pulled his hands back with a wistful sigh. He released his hold on Sam and gave him a pointed look, his expression that of someone waiting for, but not expecting to receive, an obvious "thank you." Sam was too concentrated on making sense of what had happened to pay his healer any attention. What the hell had just happened? Why did this feel so much different than the other times? Sam didn't get much more time to think on it, because Lucifer snapped his fingers and Sam was jolted back into the world of the living.

Sam woke with a start, his body exactly where he remembered himself dying, still curled in a fetal position. The blood on his hands and pooled by his head was still warm. He thought it usually took longer than that to recover, but perhaps the broken warding allowed Lucifer to heal him more quickly. The warding… That must be it! Could I see his grace because the warding was weakened?! The idea chilled his body. Lucifer may have been closer to reaching him than ever before. His life now was hell, but he knew it would only get worse if he were at the archangel's mercy. Voices reached his awareness and he concentrated on them, hoping to learn as much as possible before they realized he had been resurrected.

"—he can't die, he's damn valuable."

"Look, I get it, and I think using him to kill demons and stuff is commendable. But I'm askin' ya to look at the bigger picture. You're not always gonna be hunting. And the hunting life doesn't come cheap. I'm sure you don't have tons of extra cash right now, right?" Two grunts indicated the affirmative. "Well, you got a cash cow right here! You know how many people would love to beat the shit out of Sam Winchester?! And hey, maybe ya let them have a few kicks and punches for free, but if they really wanna hurt him, if they want to kill him, they gotta pay."

"I dunno… I think it could be a lot of risk for not a whole lot of reward." Tim sounded unconvinced.

"C'mon, at least give it a shot. I got a few people in town who are huntin' a wraith. Lemme call them up and see if they'd be interested. I'm betting they will."

A few moments of silence lingered and then Tim huffed "fine."

"What about warding him further? If he's gonna be in a lot more pain, we don't need Lucifer whispering in his ear," Reggie challenged.

Creedy scoffed. "I'm well aware that's why ya called me. I got all Kubrick's angel lore in the trunk. Was hoping all that weird-ass religious shit would come in useful someday. I'll go get it now."

He left and the remaining two hunters started chatting excitedly, this new prospect piquing their interest.

Their words became white noise as Sam processed what he had just heard. Did people really hate him that much? Was he that much of a pariah in the hunting community? Hunters generally treated his father with respect and that often extended to himself and Dean.

Maybe word had spread about the catastrophic result of killing Lilith. Or perhaps it went back even further: Gordon may have told others about his beliefs. He'd told Kubrick, so why not others? A sickening surge of cold swept through him as he thought about Gordon. He was loathe to admit it, but the damn psycho had been right. Sam was evil, he was a monster, and now he'd ended the world. If only he could go back now and let Gordon kill him so Dean wouldn't have to! It could have spared Dean going to Hell and breaking the first seal. If he had just died like he was supposed to, the world wouldn't be in the mess it was now.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense that other hunters would revile him. He'd been a psychic, he drank demon blood and gained supernatural powers from it, and he was the meatsuit to the greatest evil known to man. Even he would probably want to eliminate a being with such a resume!

He hated himself intensely and the cruel thought formed that whatever happened to him from here on out, he deserved it. It was just a matter of convincing himself.

Footsteps approached and he held himself still, hoping to avoid further antagonism. Life would never be that easy, he sighed internally, as two fingers felt for his pulse. "Good morning to you, sunshine," Tim teased. Sam rolled onto his stomach and tried to push himself up but Tim put his boot on Sam's back and pushed, dropping him to the floor. Tim and Reggie flipped him over and pulled Sam's arms up over his head, clipping him onto a chain that hung from a pulley on the ceiling. His ankle cuffs were connected to a chain secured around a heating pipe in the corner of the room. They left him hanging at an awkward height: too high to kneel but too low to stand since he couldn't move his ankles any closer to his body.

As such, the majority of his weight was borne by his wrists and as the men sat at a kitchen table to look at some books, Sam focused on suppressing the whimper, and then the scream, that begged to erupt from his body. The healing bullet holes began weeping again and his no-longer-broken-but-very-much-painful rib was making its presence known with insufferable pangs of searing heat that stretched from his abdomen to his neck.

Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty – Sam wasn't even sure anymore, too consumed with acute and diffuse agony to accurately keep track. Words and phrases occasionally reached him, though the hunters were conferring rather quietly. "Kubrick really liked angels, huh?" "Effective warding…" "This one wards against the call but not the scrutiny of an angel. The hell does that mean?" "Carve or burn?" "Both."

The words faded away as Sam focused on keeping his vocal cords still. He didn't want these psychos to have the satisfaction of hearing him scream. He knew it was stupid and pointless, but it was the only thing he had.

His attention was divided by scuffing boots and he raised his head as the men came up to him. Creedy held a book and few loose sheets of paper, Reggie held a blow torch, and Tim held a thick-bladed knife and some metal wiring. Fear constricted his chest as he realized what was about to happen.

"You don't need to do this, please! The wardings I have now are effective enough. Lucifer can't find me, he's said so himself!" Sam begged. Based on his experience earlier, he recognized he might be lying but the hunters didn't know any better.

Tim smiled as he moved into Sam's space. "Sorry, Sammy, we just can't take that risk. Not with what we have planned."

Creedy nodded in agreement. "With what you're gonna go through, hell, I'd be tempted to lobotomize ya." Sam couldn't do anything but stare with a dumbfounded expression on his face. "But, don't wanna mess with your freaky powers. Tim wouldn't like that. So instead, we're just gonna ward the shit out of ya."

"A little extra can't hurt, right?" Reggie added.

Tim reached forward and grabbed the t-shirt they had given Sam. He cut through the hem and then sliced up the cloth and through the collar. He cut through the sleeves and let the shirt fall to the ground. Goosebumps pricked Sam's skin as he shivered from both the cool air and from fear.

Creedy gave Sam an appraising look and whistled. "Damn, someone works out. Ya know, there's another group of people who might enjoy renting Sam…"

Reggie and Tim both looked to Creedy in disgust. "That's revolting. Uh-uh," Tim replied quickly.

Creedy gave an apologetic shrug. "What, just trying to expand the business opportunities here. C'mon, picture it, you can make actual snuff films with him and not be down an actor!"

"Ugh, shut up, man," Reggie reiterated.

"Fine, then. Let's get on with it."

Sam let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The knife and blowtorch suddenly didn't seem quite so terrifying.

Creedy sidled up to Tim and held one of the sheets up. Tim beckoned Reggie over and motioned to the torch. Sam flinched as the bright, angry roar of the blow torch invaded his senses. Tim placed the oddly curled wire in the flame and studied the design as the metal became white hot. Once it was glowing, Reggie set down the torch and stood behind Sam, gripping his hips so Sam couldn't try to buck away.

Though Reggie's hold was tight, it didn't stop Sam from trying to escape the searing presence that joined itself with the skin over his sternum. He gasped to distract himself from the intense pain and immediately regretted it. The smell of burning flesh become overwhelming and Sam felt acidic bile churn up his throat. Tim waited until the metal was cool to the touch before abruptly yanking it out. The burnt skin reluctantly let go with a quiet squick and Sam threw his head back to howl in misery before letting it fall idly against his chest.

Tim spent a few minutes reshaping the metal into a pattern that matched the second sheet and began to reheat it.

"Please," Sam whined, his voice breaking.

Tim shook his head. "There are consequences for getting in bed with evil. As a hunter, you should know that!"

"'S not that simple," Sam provided feebly.

"I know you have your reasons and all, but they don't matter to me. They're not good enough. Considering what you've done, what you caused? Nothing is fucking good enough!" He punctuated that statement by thrusting the metal into Sam's chest, connecting with where the previous one had ended. Sam yelped in pain but bit his lip, still unwilling to show his weakness.

The process was repeated two more times until the design went from the top of his sternum down to his navel. Reggie released his grip and stepped back.

"First one's done!" Creedy said cheerily and Sam looked up in horror.

"H-how many are there?" he asked.

"Wait and see," Tim offered before going behind Sam. "Need the blowtorch, Reg."

Somehow, it was worse not knowing what was coming and it made Sam antsy on top of everything else. The anxiety of ignorance was short lived: without warning, with the blow torch still on, sharp, fiery pain erupted from his shoulder blade as the tip of the knife pierced the skin and muscle to scrape the bone during its diagonal journey down to his spine.

Sam couldn't suppress the scream that clawed its way out of his throat as his flesh was torn then instantly cauterized. He didn't even have a second to appreciate the scathing, insidious pain because Tim was drawing the same line on his right shoulder.

Violent, angry agony coruscated up and down his body. Thick swells of bodily screams rose from every abused nerve. He searched for oblivion, for merciful unconsciousness, but he found no sanctuary in his quaking psyche.

Mentally distracted as he was, he was caught off guard when hands began pushing down his sweat pants. Unable to process what was happening except for BAD!, his panic became visceral and he started to thrash in his restraints. In an instant, hands, so many hands, were on him, pressing, squeezing, restraining. Their shouts and his cries fused into an oppressive ringing that he could not escape. Pressure on his shoulders and his hips held him in place. More skin was revealed as the fabric was lowered, stopping just shy of exposing his dignity. A hand moved up against his neck, moving his hair out of the way. He felt the tip of the knife enter right below his hairline then felt every dreaded millimeter as it left its savage signature all the way down to the start of his ass. He felt the heat of the blow torch again, then three diagonal lines across the vertical mark on his lower back, followed by a slightly lopsided circle connecting the three lines after Tim reheated the knife. A short horizontal line on the base of his neck and a small downward facing curve on the top of the vertical line completed the rune.

Sam was left panting and shaking with sweat pouring off his skin. He was delirious now, the panic and the physical suffering plunging him into hysteria.

"Few more, Sammy-boy!" a voice jeered and all he could say was "no." Over and over, it was the only word he could muster.

A body pressed up against his back and held him in a chokehold. The whir of the blow torch reached his ears again and then sensation like he'd never experienced before assaulted his body. The glowing flame licked at the skin over his heart and he screamed so hard he felt blood vessels burst in his eyes. It was over quickly but the mind-fraying pain battered him ruthlessly. The arm fell away, his head hung limply, then someone lifted it up. Sam's hazy vision could barely make out lips moving but his senses were too tangled to understand any of the stimuli vying for his attention.

A new blast of pain emanated from his chest and he wasn't sure if it was his heart giving out or some fresh life-ending injury. Either way, he didn't care. All that mattered now was the brief, gentle balm of nothingness.

I really gotta stop ending my chapters with Sam dying...

Reviews are appreciated!

And if you have anything you want to see, let me know. I enjoy a challenge.