Thank you so much everyone for all your reviews, follows and favourites – you make my heart happy! I was blown away with the response to Part One…see you on the other side of Part Two!

"He said don't try to scream now

But I want this one to hurt

And tonight, my pretty one,

I'm gonna get my money's worth."

- Father's Son, 3 Doors Down

oOo

Outskirts of Geneva, Kansas

The winds had died down for the moment, but they weren't out of the woods yet, according to the radio. Anna was relieved; the notion that the storm was fascinating had long since departed, replaced by an overwhelming anxiety that the woman wasn't used to. Storms in England weren't the same at all; there was none of this never-ending waiting and expectation that it was going to get worse. The sooner it was over, the better.

Thomas had set about preparing the cellar for their stay. He finished inflating the second mattress, standing it up on its end against the wall next to the other one. Despite the stress that was flitting around inside her, Anna remained serene on the outside. They would be fine down here; they were perfectly safe.

"Pull out the table, would you, Thomas? I think it's about time we ate," she remarked, placing her needlework carefully back in her sewing bag. Thomas bustled over, moving the table out so that it was next to the bed rather than at the top of it. He was busy setting the chairs on either side, one next to Sam, the other on the opposite side of the table when Anna came over with the second bag.

If Sam could have, he would have laughed at just how ludicrous she was. A devastating omen, potentially signalling the arrival of Lucifer himself in the area, was raging outside the cellar and she was worried about having the correct layout on her dining table as she placed cutlery, crockery and place mats next to him. He knew the Brits were meant to be famous for their 'stiff upper lip' but surely she couldn't be that unfazed?

She caught his eye and smiled.

"Feed the mind to nourish the soul, Samuel. One must stick to routines in times of adversity more than any other," she explained, clearly reading his incredulous expression. From the bag an array of Tupperware pots appeared, containing a variety of foods; salads, cold meats and breads followed by a thermos of tea. It looked more like she was planning a picnic than storm siege. It was ridiculous but right now he didn't care; despite the waves of fear that continuously lapped at him, he'd eat anything.

Anna sat down, primly placing a napkin across her lap. She began opening the Tupperware pots, pausing when Thomas reached across to Sam who had tipped his head to give the older man access to the buckle holding the leather panel in place.

"Do you really think that's a wise move, Thomas?" she asked, her tone clipped. Both men turned to face her, Thomas' hands paused on the back of Sam's head.

"He hasn't eaten in over a day, Anna," he pointed out. Sam's eyes flicked between the two of them nervously.

"And he only has himself to blame for that, don't you, Samuel?" she retorted, frowning down at the Winchester. "I don't care if he's just found out that Lucifer is after him. He brought him here, not to mention he broke your nose. This is his punishment; he deserves it."

Sam growled, shaking his head violently. He grunted when Thomas grasped the gag's buckle and held his head still.

"There's no need to be rude, Sam," he admonished his ward. Sam glared up at Anna. She sneered down at him before looking away and focusing her attention back on the pots.

"Apart from anything, as you pointed out earlier, we can't remove that gag; we can't trust that Lucifer won't be able to hear him," she remarked tartly as she began spooning portions onto Thomas' plate and then her own.

"She has a point, Sam," Thomas acquiesced apologetically. He let go of the buckle, stroking the back of Sam's head before letting him go. Sam stared up at him in disbelief. He expected Anna to pull this kind of stunt – she was a complete bitch – but not Thomas. He was the one who was supposed to be looking out for Sam! He wouldn't care if they weren't parading it right under his nose. His stomach grumbled painfully as he stared up at Thomas who was took a bite out of a piece of bread, chewing with relish. They couldn't be serious about refusing to feed him and then eat right next to him!

Thomas looked down at Sam who bellowed angrily, bucking against the ropes, the muscles flexing in his arms as he strained and pulled. He finished his mouthful, swallowed and put the bread down on his plate.

"I know it doesn't seem fair, Sam, I do. I'll make it up to you in a bit. Let's have some quiet now though, alright?" Thomas soothed, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder, holding him down. Sam grumbled and scowled up at him. "Come on, be a good lad. Do you want me to put the blindfold back on?"

Why did everything have to end in a threat? Sam gave up, slumping against the bed. He couldn't remember the last time he even won an argument. He hated being so powerless, so out of control. Turning his head away, he stared at the blank wall, wishing he was back in the Impala, next to his brother, the open road ahead of them where he could make whatever choices he wanted.

oOo

Carlyle, Kansas

"Dean, just get in the damned tub!" Jody exclaimed above the peal of thunder that smashed through the tiny bathroom. The sound blocked out whatever grumbling retort the Winchester gave as he clambered up off the floor, grabbing the sofa cushions from against the wall. He swore when the lights clapped out, plunging them into darkness. Jody fumbled with the flashlight in her lap, turning it on and catching Dean's rugged face in its light. He winced and frowned, putting the first cushion over the foot end of the bathtub. Jody sat up, realising that she wasn't going to be able to squeeze herself over enough for him to fit in with her too.

Dean stepped over and into the tub, sliding himself down at an angle as Jody shifted and manoeuvred herself around him. He pulled the other sofa cushions over them, readjusting the pillow behind his head before snaking his arm underneath Jody's head. She shifted again, finally coming to rest her head on his chest, her ear pressed over his heart with thumped hard but not rapidly.

"Well this isn't awkward at all," she remarked, earning a rumbling chuckle from the hunter. Living in the Midwest subjected them to tornadoes fairly regularly: holing up in a bathroom wasn't anything new for either of them and they'd both faced a lot worse in their time.

"Yeah, well at least we both fit," Dean replied. They lay in silence, listening to the thuds and bangs of debris smacking down the street; Dean praying that none of it hit the Impala. He watched as lightning flashed underneath the door, swiftly followed by another thunder clap. Jody jumped, not expecting the sound.

"I hope Sammy's not sittin' through this," Dean murmured when the noise lessened, his chest vibrating under Jody's cheek.

"If he's out near Jefferson City, I doubt they're within range of this. It's heading in the wrong direction; he probably won't even know it's happening," Jody answered gently.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he sighed. Somehow, the thought wasn't as comforting as it should've been.

oOo

Outskirts of Geneva, Kansas

Thomas sat on the bed next to Sam, his back to his ward as he reached for the knots in the rope connecting Sam's wrists and ankles together. They were tighter after Sam's attempts to get loose and it took him a few minutes to undo them.

Sam groaned with relief as he finally felt his legs being lowered. They were complete deadweight – Thomas had to straighten them for him. He could already feel the blood pumping past his knees in a rush, but he couldn't move them even if he tried. The ropes above and below his knees were removed but the piece securing his ankles remained. A surprised grunt escaped his throat when he felt Thomas pressing down on the backs of his thighs. Sam shot a look over his shoulder to see what the hell he was doing, moaning when he felt the palm of Thomas' hand kneading the deadened muscle, bringing feeling back slowly and painfully. He found himself torn; he didn't want this, not from Thomas, but after so long tightly bound, the compressions were that painful pleasure that brought him relief from the numbing ache.

Thomas worked methodically, using his thumbs to manipulate the knots out of the muscles in Sam's legs, ignoring the small jerks when he found particularly stubborn ones that elicited muffled grunts from his patient. He just pressed harder, fighting the resistance in the muscle until it gave in and dissipated.

"Deep breaths, Sam; it'll help," Thomas suggested. Sam winced when his thumb dug itself in again. He stifled the temptation to turn and glare at the Englishman; how exactly did he intend for Sam to take 'deep breaths' with the damned monstrosity stuck in his mouth?

When Sam tried to move away, Thomas simply placed a hand on his thigh and held him down until he complied. Finishing with one leg, he proceeded to work on the other, taking as much care as he had on the first. He didn't mind; he knew Sam appreciated it, even if Thomas didn't let him voice his gratitude.

"Now then, Sam, feel better?" Thomas asked as he turned to face his ward. Sam gazed up at him, a frown threatening to creased his forehead, but Thomas could see the war in his eyes. Slowly, Sam gave an almost imperceptible nod. Thomas leaned down slightly, almost conspiratorially. "I imagine you'd like the opportunity to stretch your legs, have a walk around and maybe get into a more comfortable position, yes?"

A desperate eagerness lit up the solid grey of Sam's eyes at the suggestion as he gave a more pronounced nod. Thomas smiled.

"I thought so, although that doesn't mean you're losing the bonds; we're not through this storm yet," he reminded, watching the glint of annoyance flicker back into the cool grey. Thomas got up and loosened the rope that still held Sam firmly to the bed. Moving away, he walked over to the shelf as Sam rolled himself onto his side, moving his legs, testing the rope around his ankles. He stopped when Thomas raised an eyebrow before sitting down beside him once again, a strange metal contraption, a bottle and a white cloth in his hands. Sam eyed them suspiciously as Thomas put the bottle and cloth down.

"These are the rules: if you cooperate fully, you'll have the chance to move around for a while and you'll have your hands in front of you for the remainder of the night. If you choose not to, if you fight me, I will use that," he gestured to the bottle and cloth," and I will stick you straight back in the position you've just been in and you'll remain that way for the next two days." Sam bulked, his eyes widening as Thomas continued.

"By cooperating I mean this: you will do as I say without question or hesitation; there will be no hitting, kicking or violence of any kind; and you will not, under any circumstances, touch that gag. Am I absolutely clear?"

Sam looked up into Thomas' eyes, surrounded by the painful black bruising he had inflicted and nodded silently, wishing he had any other choice. There was no way he was going to risk ending up in that hogtie again. Besides, where would he go? The thought of leaving the cellar made his heart pound against his ribs.

Thomas poured a small amount of liquid onto the cloth, making a show out of it. Sam wanted to roll his eyes, but he refrained. Thomas helped him sit up, putting the strange device down next to him before moving around to the hunter's back. Sam stared down at it as he felt the rope around his torso loosen. It was solid metal, roughly half an inch thick: long and curved at both ends, with a clasp at one end and a hinge at the other, a noticeable line was indented down the centre, allowing it to split apart. The top end, where the hinge was, featured a large metal ring, while the bottom encased two smaller rings sat about an inch apart, a small keyhole visible below the ring on the right. That end was smaller, seated about eight inches away from the ring at the other end. The long, solid section in the middle was half the width of the larger, one-ringed section. The whole thing was relatively thin, with only an inch or so of metal looping around the large ring and the same around the bottom. If it wasn't for its size, it almost reminded Sam of a giant pair of police-issue handcuffs.

"When I release your hands, you're going to put them in your lap and you're going to wait," Thomas instructed. Sam nodded, his shoulders sagging. He felt the ropes loosen and finally slip from around his wrists. Doing as he was told, he rested them in his lap, rotating his shoulders while he rubbed the chafed skin around his wrists with his fingers. Thomas picked up the strange metal device. "Turn and face me," he ordered. Sam swung his still bound ankles off the side of the bed so that he was sat on the edge, Thomas stood over him. The older man worked the clasp and the whole metal unit separated down the middle, connected by the hinge at the back of the large circle, just as Sam thought it would. Thomas raised it over Sam's head, fitting it around the back of his neck. Sam flinched when the cold metal touched his skin. His stomach dropped when he realised how the device worked and it took everything he had to remain calm.

"Raise your right hand," Thomas ordered. Sam looked up at him, resentment clear in his eyes and, just when Thomas thought he wasn't going to comply, he did, lifting his right hand up. Thomas guided it into one of the small circles at the other end of the device, flipping up a piece of metal so that Sam's wrist was firmly encased in the unit. "Hold it there for the moment; do the same with your left," Thomas commanded, repeating the process with Sam's left wrist. The hunter was now sat with the device hooked around the back of his neck, with a wrist shackled on each side, his arms bent upwards as though he was about to pray. Thomas pushed the two sides together, closing the gap. "Easy," he murmured when Sam whimpered, feeling the metal ring close around his neck completely. His hands were brought together so that they were side by side in front of him but without touching. Thomas snapped the clasp at the front so that it locked before sticking a small key into the top, securing the whole thing. He stepped away and walked back over to the shelf.

Sam tugged experimentally on his wrists, feeling the metal bite into the back of his neck when he did. The piece sat snuggly around his neck like a collar, but it wasn't uncomfortably tight. Twisting his wrists was useless; they were firmly held upright and in place by the metal, held about eight inches from his face, but he could neither reach his face nor the clasp that Thomas had closed. It was hardly a more 'comfortable' position.

"You're doing excellently, Sam, well done," Thomas smiled as he dropped a wide leather strap on the bed next to the hunter.

"Indeed, I was concerned for a moment, Thomas, considering the last time you asked him to cooperate," Anna remarked drily. Sam shot her a baleful glare as Thomas knelt and released his ankles.

"Sam knows better now; he knows we're only trying to help," Thomas replied, his tone light as he coiled the rope and put it to one side. Shame coloured Sam's cheeks; cooperating was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was left with no other choices. He was caught indefinitely in a catch twenty-two: be at the mercy of Lucifer or be trapped with the crazy, domineering English. Obeying the lesser of the two evils – who might just be able to save him – seemed the wiser choice.

He stood up when Thomas motioned for him to do so, watching suspiciously as the older man slipped the strap into the crook of his elbow. Frowning, he turned his head and watched as he began running it across Sam's back to loop it through his other arm, obviously planning to yank his elbows back. It would completely restrict his arms. Sam frantically shook his head, whimpering in horror. Thomas paused and looked up at him, his hands still holding the strap.

"I don't need this?" he asked. Sam shook his head, imploring him silently. Thomas raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, Sam…I can't have you lashing out. Look what happened last time."

This was so frustrating! If Thomas would just take the damned gag off, Sam could reassure him, explain that he knew it was useless fighting back. He was sick of being so confined that he'd do practically anything to get out of it by now.

Thomas watched Sam's vexation with amusement – not that he let it show. Sam jerked his head, fighting his muzzle, clearly trying to make himself coherent and getting more and more annoyed when he couldn't. As an intelligent, articulate man, it was proving to be one of the easiest ways to break him.

"Alright, alright," Thomas sighed dramatically, pulling the strap out from through Sam's arms. He coiled it but pointed up at the hunter with it in one hand threateningly. "But, this is me trusting you. Don't make me regret it."

Sam moaned with relief even as he fought the ridiculous gratitude that flickered through him. Thomas put the belt on the table before he began guiding Sam around the cellar, letting him stretch his legs. Outside, the storm began brewing once more.

oOo

Carlyle, Kansas

The bathtub vibrated subtly beneath them as hailstones battered the roof above, sending tremors through the whole room. Trapped beneath the soft cushions and the incessant drumming, Dean and Jody had made the most of the situation: using their phones for research until the storm interfered with their mobile signal; talked about Alex and Claire's blooming friendship; laughing about Cas' latest misunderstood references and playing Who Am I? until the storm got too loud and forced them into a stressed silence.

Jody felt Dean shifting yet again beneath her, tension exuding from him in small rolling waves.

"Talk to me, Dean," she urged him, having to raise her voice yet again to be heard clearly. In the glow of the flashlight, she propped herself up on her elbow and studied his face carefully. His eyes were dark and thoughtful, the light casting deeper shadows underneath them. His mouth was downturned and pressed into a hard line, worry seeming to imprint itself permanently into his skin. He didn't look at her; he just kept his gaze turned up to the ceiling. She didn't expect him to meet her look, but she knew he would talk in his own time.

"I don't know what we're gonna do."

"What d'you mean?"

"When we find Sam. He was barely himself when he got taken. That was what…two weeks ago? We'd only just started makin' progress with him, gettin' him past his detox, getting' him to go out. Then the one time I leave him, he's gone." The regret, the guilt that was consuming the older Winchester was plain to see. Jody squeezed his arm comfortingly. "And he knows we're lookin' – I know he does – but we're takin' too long. Every minute we're leavin' him with them, the worse it's gotta be for him. What if he can't keep fightin'? What if it's too late by the time we get to him?"

"He's made it through everythin' else life's chucked at him," Jody pointed out softly. The wind screeched outside the door.

"But when does it just get too much? We don't even know what they're doin' to him. You didn't hear his voice, Jody; you didn't hear how damned…broken he sounded. Hell, he sounded like he did when he thought he was seein' Lucifer – but worse. Back then he put on this front that he was okay, but deep down, I knew he wasn't. It's the same now. What if he never gets over this? What if he's not the same…Sam, anymore?"

Jody pursed her lips, steeling her spine as she fought the tears that pricked in the backs of her eyes. Dean hadn't looked at her once, instead, he kept his eyes up and focused, battling to keep his control. She couldn't bear to see her boys suffering.

"Honestly? I don't have the answers, honey; I wish I did," she replied, bringing up a hand to tilt his head down gently. Finally, he looked her in the eye and she saw his control beginning to fracture. "I doubt he will be the same when we first get him back. It's gonna take time. Lots of it. You might even need to stop huntin' for longer than you ever have before, but that's okay. You don't need to shoulder this on your own. We're all gonna be there, every step of the way, until Sam gets back on his feet. And he will do that, Dean. If there's one thing I know about you Winchesters, it's that you're the most stubborn pair of mules I've ever met. He'll be okay. You'll be okay. It's just gonna take time."

Time.

Everything was always about time. Sitting there, listening to the wind scream and the hailstones hammer against the roof, Dean had never been more aware of time running away from him. He couldn't stop it, couldn't control it and he hated it.

It never seemed to be on their side.

oOo

Outskirts of Geneva, Kansas

Hailstones thundered against the metal door, the cracks like gunfire echoing around the cellar. It was a cacophony and Sam wanted nothing more than to cover his ears. Thomas finally brought him to a standstill, laying out one of the air mattresses, and helping lower him onto the mattress. It shifted under his weight and he scooted backwards slightly to maintain his balance on the unstable surface when Thomas walked over to the shelf. God, He hated these things.

Sam watched Anna carefully from his position on the floor, noting the tightness in her shoulders and the way her mouth had pressed into a thin line. She was angrily stuffing a pillow into its case, ramming it in and then giving it a firm shake to make it bounce back. It'd become clear when she'd started stripping the sheets off the bed that he was going to be on the floor for the night. God forbid the 'lady' should sleep on an air mattress. Yet, watching her made him uneasy; this was the most emotion he'd ever seen her openly display. And he knew exactly where that anger was coming from: fear. But what was she afraid of? He glanced at Thomas quickly, noting a strained tightness around the corner of his eyes. Sam suddenly clocked the tension rolling off the pair of them. They had always been so calm and collected…he shifted back again nervously, pinning his gaze back on Anna.

Was there more going on than they'd told him? If they were getting nervous, how close was Lucifer? Could Anna sense him? Was that why she was afraid?

Sam felt sweat begin to prickle on his forehead as his heart began to pound.

Thomas crouched down in front of Sam, pulling his legs out straight, almost surprised when he didn't resist. The Englishman looked up and saw Sam staring over his shoulder, watching Anna curiously. He glanced over his shoulder and felt his heart squeeze. He hooked a strap under Sam's ankles and looped it over.

"Anna, are you alright?" he called, having to talk louder than normal to be heard. When she didn't respond, he finished buckling the strap securely and stood up, leaving the extra ones on the floor. Sam's gaze followed him up, watching him apprehensively. Thomas moved over to Anna, placing a hand on her shoulder, shocked when she jumped. "Anna, what's the matter?" he asked, concern filling him when she turned with a wild look in her eyes, unlike any he'd seen in her before.

"What's the matter?" she hissed, her voice high-pitched, almost strangled. "What's the matter? Do you hear that, Thomas?! We have been down here for hours and it just. Won't. Stop. How much longer must we be subjected to that racket before it's over?!"

Thomas ran both hands up both of her arms soothingly.

"I know it's unpleasant, but it can't be helped –"

"It could have been," she shrieked, glaring down at Sam venomously. "We wouldn't be down here in this…this…pit if it wasn't for him! We wouldn't be stuck here, waiting for lord-knows-what to happen!"

"We can't blame Sam, Anna; what's done is done," Thomas murmured. She glowered down at Sam who looked up to Thomas, gratitude flickering in the back of his eyes. Why should he get off lightly through this? She hated her fear and hated that Sam had caused it; if it weren't for him, they wouldn't even be in America. If she had to suffer, so did he.

And she knew exactly which buttons to press.

"Of course we can!" she spat, gesticulating at him furiously. "Do you hear that outside? How brutal it is? That's Lucifer! That's who we're going up against, risking everything for someone who threatened to expose us just because he wanted to get back to the imposter he calls brother!"

"He didn't know Anna; he can't help it. It all feels real to him…" Thomas interjected, surprised but he caught on quickly. Inwardly, he'd never been more proud of her; she was terrified by the storm and, even though she was venting her fears, she still followed his plan. She was beyond extraordinary.

"Well, it's not. That is not he's real brother; his real brother is dead."

Sam shrank back, his heart banging against his ribs as he gazed, wide-eyed, up at them. He barely registered Thomas snapping his head round to look down at Sam as he just stared in horror up at Anna.

"Anna, if he's going to eject Lucifer, he needs hope – not this," he implored. Anna waved a hand dismissing him as she turned on Sam fully.

"No, he needs a wake-up call," she snarled, stalking over to him and crouching down, grabbing his chin. "Dean is dead, Samuel. The real Dean, not the imposter you've been clinging onto here." Sam shook his head, a tiny choked moan escaping past the gag. She tightened her grip. "Yes. That's what you can't face about this whole thing, isn't it? You can handle the thought of a world without your precious brother in it." Sam tried to jerk away, looking desperately up at Thomas, but the Englishman just stood there, shaking his head sadly as Anna continued.

"The real Dean sacrificed his life – his very existence – to overcome the Darkness. Did you honestly think he – or anyone else – could survive that? That he could somehow stop her by any other means? Since when has the universe ever been that forgiving? You know better than that, Samuel. True evil requires a sacrifice to be defeated and that's what your brother did. Dean saved the world."

Oh, she was astounding! Thomas watched the fear, the uncertainty alight in Sam's eyes as she took the details he'd given her and twisted them for their purpose.

"And how do you honour his memory? By being weak. By giving in to Lucifer. You condemned the world Dean gave everything to protect." Sam groaned, desperately trying to escape her grip, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't want to hear this. Anna's voice dropped, dripping with disgust. "What would he say if he could see you now? If he knew that you would rather let the world burn, just so you could live in your own happy little world with something that isn't even him. What would he say?"

Time stopped.

The hailstorm was muted, the radio chatter gone, Thomas and Anna's faces blurring out of view. Was he breathing? Could he?

Dean is dead.

Anna was right; it was the one thing in their whole truth that he hadn't been able to face. Hadn't been able to think about. Couldn't think about.

Dean is dead.

He'd spent four months grieving, locked away in Toni's cell before Dean saved him. He'd thought it had been the miracle he'd prayed for. But it wasn't. It was just another lie. Dean was gone and nothing would ever change that.

He was never coming back.

He couldn't go through this again. He wasn't strong enough. He couldn't do it. He couldn't.

He's my brother.

I swear, it's like talking to a brick wall.

There ain't no me if there ain't no you.

"Sam?" Thomas called, crouching down next to his ward, genuinely afraid for the first time. Sam's face had gone completely blank, his eyes dead as he just sat there, still as stone. Thomas wasn't even sure he was breathing. "Sam! Shit!" he exclaimed, moving to unbuckle the gag. Anna's hand shot out, stopping him.

"Don't. Wait." She instructed before drawing back her hand and slapping the hunter across the cheek, snapping his head to the side. The hunter jerked back to life as if he'd been electrocuted, his eyes wide as he sucked a ragged breath in.

And lost it.

Anna fell back as he came to life, thrashing and bellowing, his long legs kicking out as he pulled and twisted, trying to wrench his hands free, to reach the muzzle, to do anything. She slid back out of the way as Thomas pounced on him, trying to subdue him. A strangled keening sound was ripped from Sam as he fought them and the anguish that rolled through him. Thomas grabbed the metal device around his neck, pulling the berserk hunter onto the concrete floor, forcing him onto his back.

"Anna, quickly! Help me hold him!" he barked as he pressed down on Sam's shoulders, ignoring the fact that it was pushing his brand into the floor. She came and took his place, using all of her weight to hold Sam down. A sense of satisfaction filled her; she hadn't realised that the news of his brother's 'death' would cause such a strong reaction. Thomas would forgive her later. She watched as he grabbed the spare leather strap and sat on Sam's legs, near his ankles, pinning him down as he slipped the strap under his thighs and cinched it tight.

"It's not enough. Don't let him go, Anna!" Thomas ordered, his voice laced with concern as he stood up. Sam immediately started thrashing again. He doubted the poor lad even knew what he was doing. This wasn't exactly how he'd planned to 'break' the news, but it was out now and if they weren't careful, Sam was going to seriously hurt himself. He raced to the shelf.

Anna struggled as Sam's movements got wilder. She was no match for a 240lb hunter. She cried out when his torso snapped up, his forehead cracking her under the chin, stunning her.

"Anna!" Thomas shouted when he heard her cry. Whipping around, he saw her lying on the floor, her hand grasped to her jaw. He shot to her side, but she waved him off as she sat up.

"I'm fine," she winced. Thomas ran to Sam who had managed to get himself up into a sitting position and was flailing like a man possessed. Grabbing him from behind, Thomas quickly threaded the strap through the crooks of both elbows, across Sam's back, before pulling it tight. Sam thrashed and howled as his elbows involuntarily jerked backwards, dragging his hands down and back, removing all the slack he had in his arms. The buckle was secured and, try as he might, Sam could neither move his arms forwards, backwards, up or down. They were completely immobilised.

Thomas pushed him onto his side as gently as he could, snatching a hold of his writhing legs and looping another strap between the one holding his ankles together. He made short work of threading it through the one across the back of Sam's thighs and pulled it hard, bending the hunter's legs as he buckled it off too.

Sitting back, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, watching Sam squirm desperately, but, now fully immobilised, he could barely wriggle let alone hurt himself or them. Still he cried forlornly, the sound going straight through Thomas. Pulling his ward upright onto his knees, Thomas scooted around him and gathered him into his arms, resting Sam's head on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," he whispered as he rocked the broken boy, rubbing his back soothingly, resting his chin on Sam's shoulder. Sam tried to prise away from him, but Thomas just held him closer, bringing a hand up to nestle at the curve of his neck, holding him in place whilst stroking the soft hair there. He ignored the tiny wrenches of Sam's inhibited arms as he tried to move. Slowly, moment by moment, as he hushed the grieving brother, Sam's stifled moans turned to whimpers of despair and he sagged, exhausted into Thomas' embrace.

"It's okay, Sam, let it out, I've got you," Thomas crooned, rubbing soothing circles across his back. This would be his final acceptance. Thomas smiled blissfully; soon their struggles would be over.

The hailstorm had slowly begun to die down, leaving the cellar in a stunned quiet as if it too had been shocked into submission by the admission. Anna looked down at the two men, her heart thumping. She was not of an athletic age anymore and such excitement was certainly not a regular occurrence for her. Rubbing her jaw tenderly, she frowned down at Sam, his sobs further muffled by Thomas' shirt. He was more trouble than he was worth. Both she and Thomas had lost their Lady Toni not a month ago and they hadn't been reduced to snivelling imbeciles. No, they held their heads high and showed proper respect through their refinement. The American didn't have a modicum of decorum in him.

Well, she wasn't going to spend the rest of her night listening to his incessant wailing.

She moved back to the bed, finishing tucking in the sheet around the mattress as the soft sound of Sam's sobs grated down her spine. She clenched her jaw, trying to block out the racket. In a little while, she would put a stop to it and get her peace. Now if that damned storm would cease as well, she would be satisfied.

Thomas clung to Sam until he felt his own heart slow, letting the shock and the fear begin to drain away. As long as Sam needed him, he would be strong. He wouldn't let the storm faze him now. Pulling away from Sam, he cupped his ward's face in both hands, wiping away the tears that streaked down his cheeks with his thumbs. Sam screwed his eyes shut and tried to avert his head, but that was alright; he was in pain.

"Come on, Sam, let's get you lying down," Thomas offered as he let go. He moved around him, no longer afraid of Sam lashing out. Gently, he manoeuvred the younger man over onto the air mattress, tipping him onto his side. Sam moaned softly, arching against his strict restraints but he wasn't in any danger now. Thomas had protected him. He slid onto the mattress by Sam's head, propping himself up against the wall. Sam grunted as he lifted him, bring his head down to rest in Thomas' lap. The Englishman soothed him, stroking his hair back gently, enjoying being able to provide the comfort that Sam so desperately needed.

Unable to move, Sam languished in his misery, fresh tears slipping from his eyes. He wanted to be alone, to grieve on his own, not suffer through Thomas' ceaseless petting. It just drove in his captivity, his helplessness further. He had no one. He was completely alone.

It was time. Anna moved over to her bag, looking for one of the two white pots she'd packed, having anticipated Sam's behaviour when they'd first assumed they were going to be down here with him. She checked the labels carefully: vecuronium in one, Valium in the other. She put the Valium back and shook out a tablet from the other bottle. Thankfully, both drugs looked the same. Sam should suffer, but that didn't mean they should have to suffer with him. The paralytic effects of the vecuronium would ensure that happened.

"Here. Give him this." Thomas looked up when Anna approached, a water bottle in one hand and a pill in the other. He looked down at Sam again who was lying with his eyes closed, clearly trying to rein in his emotions.

"Is that really necessary?" he asked, concern creasing his forehead. Anna nodded.

"You know it is, Thomas. Samuel is far too agitated. What if Lucifer senses his grief? If I had known he'd react like this, I would never…"

"It's alright, Anna. We'll get him through this," Thomas interrupted, giving his forgiveness freely. Her actions would benefit them in the long term, that much was already evident.

"Still. He's exhausted – we all are. That storm isn't going to help him sleep nor is his grief. It's only a mild dose to help him relax. It's a kindness, really," she persuaded smoothly, holding out her hands again.

Slowly, Thomas nodded. "Alright."

He reached down for the buckle securing the gag, loosening it carefully with one hand. As the buckle came unclasped, he wrapped his other hand under Sam's head, stretching it around to gently press his palm against Sam's mouth so that he could hold the gag in place before pulling the straps free. Sam groaned and looked up at him out of the corner of his bloodshot eyes.

"We're going to give you something to help you relax. I'm going to take this off so that we can do that, but I need you to stay quiet, Sam; Lucifer could still be close so we need to be careful," he explained, his voice low, tone soft.

The cold sting on his cheeks felt strange as the leather panel was pulled away, exposing his skin. He winced as Thomas removed the gag completely, the silicone bulb scraping past his teeth. Sam groaned as he shut his mouth for the first time in hours, the ache in his jaw muscles running painfully through his face. He glared up at Thomas.

"Go to hell," he rasped through dry lips, "I don't want anything from you."

"It's for your own good, Sam," Thomas remarked as he took the pill from Anna. Sam clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head, trying to get away from Thomas but could only manage the smallest of wriggles as the straps around his arms and legs held tight. "Come on, be a good lad," Thomas implored, not even needing to hold Sam to stop him from moving away; the hunter couldn't do a thing. Sam jerked his head when Thomas pinched his nose shut, trying to force his mouth open. He bucked and squirmed but it was useless and soon enough he gasped for air. Thomas shoved the pill in, swiftly followed by the rim of the water bottle which banged against his teeth. Sam choked as the water flooded into his mouth – a sensation that should have been inviting after being gagged for so long – but knowing that it was flushing the pill down his throat was the last thing he wanted.

Thomas held on firmly, keeping his ward's head tipped as he forced him to drink, having given him no time to push the pill to one side of his mouth and therefore conceal it. He kept going until the bottle was empty. Sam coughed and spluttered but the pill was gone and the damage done.

"Son of a bitch," he groaned between coughs. Was this night ever going to end?

"You'll feel better soon, Sam; just relax, now," Thomas replied mildly, picking up the discarded gag once more. Sam saw him and his eyes widened, pleading desperately.

"Haven't you done enough? Please, Thomas – you don't need to do that. I'll be quiet, I swear," he begged, his voice raspy and breaking.

"I do, Sam; I can't risk bringing Lucifer down on us. I'm concerned you've already said too much," Thomas sighed, looking almost apologetic.

"He won't, you know he won't. Plea–" Thomas cut him off, sliding the gag back into his mouth smoothly. Sam whimpered pitifully as the leather was pulled back around his head and secured once more. His head dropped back into Thomas' lap as he gave in, utterly exhausted.

"There we go, that's better. It's only a sedative; it'll help you sleep," Thomas soothed, rubbing Sam's arm. Sam grunted, feeling his body begin to go numb, his limbs turning to lead. He struggled weakly, but he felt sluggish and, after a few minutes, he couldn't move his extremities. What the hell? Sedatives didn't do this; they made the victim lucid – they didn't stop them from moving. Horror filled him; she'd given him a damned paralytic!

"Oh dear, he's still agitated, isn't he?" Anna remarked, forcing sympathy into her tone as Sam gave a garbled moan. Honestly, she was amazed at his stubbornness; he couldn't possibly talk with that muzzle on and yet he tried.

Maybe he'd realised what he'd taken.

Good. She hoped that he did; she wanted to look in his eyes and see the dawning of horror in their depths as he lost movement limb by limb and know that there was not a thing he could do about it. Yet, even more than that, Anna wanted him to know that she'd done it purposefully. She'd told Thomas it was a sedative – and would claim an innocent mistake if he discovered otherwise – knowing he would object. Sometimes he couldn't see the woods for the trees. Sam had lashed out, been a terror and needed controlling. If Thomas couldn't do it, she would. She didn't want Sam to relax: she wanted him to consider the consequences of his actions. She wanted him to languish in his desolation and the paralytic would help him do just that.

And she wanted to see it happen.

For that, she needed to get closer. Her eyes slid across the shelf and alighted on just the item she needed.

Perfect.

"We're getting there," Thomas insisted, feeling Sam relax against his thigh. He reached over to the strap between Sam's elbows and undid it, pulling it off. "I don't think we need this anymore, do we?"

"Here, this will help. I always find it difficult to sleep with the lights on, even if I have taken a little something to help me sleep," Anna offered, crouching down in front of the two men, a black cloth in her hands. She locked eyes with Sam as Thomas looked away, reaching for the strap holding his legs together. Anna let Sam see her smug satisfaction and the triumph whispering across her lips as she saw realisation, anger and, finally, that delicious horror pass through his eyes.

He knew.

She smiled slyly, revelling in his hopelessness. Reaching down she slipped the blindfold over his eyes, delighted when he didn't resist at all. He couldn't. The pill was fairly fast-acting; by now she doubted he could move at all.

Sam watched helplessly as darkness descended on him even as he felt Thomas release and straighten his legs. He wanted to scream and shout, but instead, his lungs inflated and deflated rhythmically, his vocal chords frozen like the rest of him. He was trapped.

"Thank you, Anna; you're so kind to him," Thomas smiled as he straightened up, glad to feel his ward finally quieten. Anna smiled at him, before glancing towards the door.

"It sounds like the worst is over; I'm going to turn in," she replied. Thomas nodded as he went back to lacing his fingers gently through Sam's hair.

"I'm going to stay up; I want to be here in case he wakes up properly," he answered, gazing down almost lovingly at his boy. Sam's breathing had evened out; he was finally falling asleep. Thank god. It had been an eventful night and Thomas would be glad to see the back of it.

Trapped in the darkness, alone and despairing, Sam saw Dean's face hovering in his mind's eye, so real and yet too distant. His heart beat steadily but inside he felt like he was dying. He couldn't do this – not without his brother by his side. He wanted to scream, wail, sob, hit something – anything – until he bled. Grief opened up the pit and sucked him down; there would be no rest, locked inside his own body with nothing to focus on but the heartache that consumed him.

And through it all, Anna's words rang mockingly in his ears.

What would your brother say if he could see you now?

oOO

What a night for our Sam! The metal shackle thing was inspired by the device used in the Logan trailer (if it sounded peculiar go watch and you'll see it).

Please review!