Disclaimer: Not mine.

Warning: Swearing. Mentions of doing painful things to other people. If you no likies, you no readies.

Author's Note: Sorry about the lack of updating yesterday, my life called, it wanted me for the night. Family obligations, you know how they are. Though obviously my sister didn't get the memo. Sorry, bitching in my note, not nice. Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 6: Questioning

Ice hit him and Sam jumped awake, yelping at the freezing water now running down his face, intending to make Dean pay hell for this latest prank.

Only when he tried to jump he didn't get very far before something dug into his wrists and pain flared in his body. He groaned as every bone, every muscle began to ache, and a pounding erupted in his shoulder. Then he remembered, he wasn't at a motel, Dean wouldn't be the one washing him with icy water, and he was in a shit-load of trouble.

He opened his eyes to find a man standing in front of him, holding a bucket. Sam realized he was tied to a chair, tightly, the circulation in his hands and feet not so good. A bright light swung above him, illuminating a small circle that centred on him. The rest of the room was dark.

Sam looked around, gritting his teeth before they started chattering from the cold. Another three men were standing back, mere shadows in the dark. He turned his attention back to the guy in front of him.

"Thought it was about time we woke your ass up," the man said, and Sam recognised his voice as they guy who had split the fight up the night before.

"Damn shame," Sam retorted, spitting water out of his mouth. "I was having the best dream, all about clichés. Hang on… I'm still in it." He grinned up at the guy. "I think someone watches way too many movies."

The backhand made him see stars, and he had to resist the urge to wipe the blood away with his hand. Would have been hard anyway, what with his hand tied behind his back and all. But he felt it leak from the corner of his mouth as he turned his gaze back to the man in front of him.

"You won't be such a smartass when the Boss gets here. He's got some questions for you."

"The Boss?" Sam asked with a smirk. "You call Mahone, 'the Boss'?"

Another backhand strained his neck, and he shook his head, trying to clear the immediate daze.

"Don't insult him," the guard defended loyally. "He's gone through a lot to earn his name."

"Like what? Murder? Kidnapping? Betraying his own species?"

The men shared a look. "So you do know about him?"

"I know enough to know he's earned shit. The bastard's a monster, selling people to the highest bidder -." Another backhand cut him off mid-sentence.

Sam brought his head back around, eyes glittering dangerously. But a sudden light from behind, and a warm breeze cut him off as quickly as any hit. He tried to look around, but he couldn't move far before he had to bite back a cry of pain.

It didn't matter; three people came in, almost crowding the room. Sam got a better sense of area, finding himself in cell-like room roughly nine square feet. Then the door shut, and the darkness filled the room again. All except the light shining directly on him.

One of the men stopped behind him, but the other two came around on opposite sides. The guard from the night before took a step back, moving into shadow, a smirk on his face.

Sam spun his head around, looking from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of either man.

He saw Landly first, the big man coming up close and laying a hand on Sam's shoulder. The hunter flinched, but the man didn't squeeze or anything. He just patted, giving a small chuckle at Sam's quick movement.

He turned his head in time to catch the other man passing. He felt a snarl form as he realized it was Mahone.

"You fucking bastard," Sam spat before Mahone had even stopped and turned to face him.

Mahone looked up at Landly, and then back, a condescending smile on his face.

"Now, now, Sam, no need for obscenities."

His mouth dropped. "How do you know my name?" he asked, looking around.

"We heard Miss Anya shouting it as…" he trailed off, gesturing at Sam's shoulder. "And then while she was begging you to wake up, after you saved her from being run over."

"So you have her too," he confirmed, feeling sick in his gut. "Have you hurt her? If you have, I swear you'll pay hell."

Mahone gave a long laugh, apparently thoroughly amused. Sam felt the snarl deepen, not appreciating it. What he wouldn't give for just one of his legs free. Mahone was just within in reach of his foot.

"Hell, hey?" Mahone said finally. "Well, of course I want to avoid that."

His tone was strange, almost sarcastic. Sam cocked his head, frowning, finally losing the snarl. But Mahone hadn't finished.

"You want to know what else I want to avoid?" he asked, apparently getting right down to the point. "Cops nosing about in my business. Idiots searching my office and finding things that are really far too dangerous for them to know. Sluts getting themselves hired in my club just to stab me in the back."

"She's no slut," Sam defended. "And I'm no cop. I have no idea what you're talking about."

In the blink of an eye Landly had stepped forward, punching hard with barely a grimace on his face. Sam's head snapped back and he felt the blood begin to run from his nose, dripping down his face and onto his shirt.

He worked the muscles in his face, trying to get any kinks out of the area around his nose. Landly had a good punch.

"Don't lie to me," Mahone ordered softly after a moment. "See, we know for a fact that you found the papers of those people. One of my men found you with the box, right in front of where they were hidden. And you were just talking about it with Greer over there."

Sam gave a nod of greeting to Greer, who glared back. Then he turned back to Mahone. "So, you're going to sell me and Anya as well?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Mahone didn't disappoint. "Eventually. Well, she will be sold. Depends how much of one piece you're still in. Not much in the market for cops. Well, there are people who will pay a bit for feds, but you don't look old enough to be a fed. And you know things. Your partner, Dean, wasn't it? He knows things too. And we can't have either of you spreading that around. Oh, and of course we can't forget about Anya's 'partner'. Looks enough like her to be her brother, don't you think?"

"Bite me!" Sam spat, a little scared by the amount Mahone knew. The man just grinned.

"Sorry, you're not my type. Besides, there are better ways of getting what you know out of you. So, what type of cop are you?"

Sam chuckled. "I'm no cop, Mahone," the hunter told him. And earned another punch.

The hunter growled, shaking his head, feeling the anger surge. "Goddammit, Mahone!" he shouted. "You just going to hit me until I tell you what you want to hear?"

The owner smiled smugly but seemed to ignore Sam's comment. "What about your partner, Dean? Is he a cop?"

Sam gave a short laugh. "No freaking way. He has authority issues."

A few of the men shared a look. "So who is he? What do you do?" Landly asked. Mahone glanced at the guard, a look warning the man. But he let the question pass.

"No one special," Sam answered after a moment of glancing between each man. "Guess we just got caught up."

"So where can we find him?" Mahone asked. "Which hotel were you two staying at?"

He said it so casually that Sam almost answered. Almost. He looked down, biting on his tongue. He wouldn't answer. He wouldn't.

"What, lost that edge, boy?" the club owner asked with a grin. When Sam still didn't look up, Landly swung again. The hunter had nowhere to go, taking the punch on his cheek and spitting out the blood as it welled in his mouth.

He looked up, spitting it at Mahone. The owner flinched as the blood hit him, rolling down his black shirt.

This time it was Greer who stepped forward and hit him, backhanding so hard that Sam blacked out for a moment. When he came too again, the door behind him was just closing.

Trying to find out what he had missed in his second of unconsciousness, Sam swivelled his head, attempting vainly to see who or what had entered the cell. He could hear wheels running slowly, as if prolonging the moment.

But he couldn't see what it was, and he looked back up at Mahone, suspicion still all too clear beneath the blood. Fear gripped his stomach when he saw the amusement in the man's eyes.

"Enjoy your quick respite?" Mahone asked. "You're going to need it."

Sam looked around again, but he still couldn't see what had been wheeled in. Mahone gave a chuckle.

"See, I really don't have time to work up. As much as my boys would love it, I don't have time to let them beat the information out of you."

"Poor them," Sam muttered, but Mahone didn't give any indication that he heard.

"See, I owe someone something." He gave a nod at the man standing just behind Sam. Sam heard movement and tried to see again. "And he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam demanded, not really paying attention.

"Do you believe in nightmares, Sam?" Mahone suddenly asked. Sam frowned, looking around and up at him.

"What do you mean?" the hunter asked carefully. In the shadows of the overhanging light, the man's sneer seemed deeper than it could possibly have been.

"Nightmares, boy! Do. You. Believe. In. Them?"

Sam shrugged, or as well as he could with his arms tied. "Depends on what you mean," he answered.

"I do," Mahone told him, walking slowly around the edge of light. "I didn't always. I had the usual nightmares when I was a kid, like everyone. Things in the closet. Monsters under the bed. I'm sure you know what I mean."

He stopped somewhere behind Sam, and the hunter tried once more to look around. He still couldn't see, but a second later he heard something slide. Then, the room became slightly lighter, a frightening tinge of dark red, and he felt heat on his shoulder. Summing it up, he didn't think it would be good.

Mahone grabbed something, lifting it up, studying it. He continued in a conversational tone.

"But like everyone, I grew out of those nightmares. It wasn't until years later that I learned that they were real."

"What?" Sam asked, not really wanting the answer.

"The monsters under the bed." Mahone gave a chuckle. "I know things that would make your hair curl."

"I doubt that," Sam muttered, craning his neck. He didn't need to; Mahone walked back around to the front, a thin, long knife in his hand. Normally that alone wouldn't have been enough to make Sam's gut clench. But he couldn't take his eyes off the red hot blade tip.

Mahone handed the blade to Landly, handling it carefully. Sam followed its every movement, but he still managed to keep up the questions, knowing everything he learnt would be helpful.

"So you knew exactly who you were selling Laura Jennings to?" Sam demanded.

"See, that's where you're wrong,' Mahone told him as Landly closed in. "I wasn't the one who sold her. That's not my part. I grab them, give them to him, and he sells them, to the highest bidder."

"He?" Sam asked. "Who? And what do you get out of it then?"

"He's not really a who, Sam. More of a what."

Sam finally took his eyes off the slowly cooling blade, swinging round to face Mahone. "You're kidding me," he blurted out.

The owner's eyes narrowed, but he seemed to ignore the comment. Or he just didn't seem to know what to say to it. He continued as if Sam hadn't said anything. "And he's not the most patient of beings. I need to know what you know, before he comes. To sell you, that is."

Mahone leaned back, eyes glittering. "So, what motel is Dean in?"

The guard grinned sadistically, looming over Sam. The knife inched closer, and the hunter tried to back away, still refusing to answer. But tied to the chair as he was, there was nowhere to go. As the silence stretched, the still hot knife pressed down and he couldn't help but scream.

The cell door opened, and Anya got quickly to her feet, backing against the wall as the first thing she saw was Greer, his face tight with pleasure, looming over her. He came in first, stopping just beyond the door, holding it open with one hand. She swallowed at the promising look in his eye, and glared up at him, determined not to let her fear show. Neither looked away, not until a limp body was thrown into the cell.

"Sam!" Anya cried, diving to her knees beside him. He groaned at her touch, and rolled over, wincing as he did so. She gaped at the bruises forming on his face, and looked up, anger flaring inside.

"Sam, are you okay?" she asked. He looked around and found her eyes, nodding slightly as he got to a sitting position, gripping his wounded shoulder as he did. She looked closer and saw his shirt had been singed, a hole showing the burnt, flamed skin beneath it.

"What did they do to you?" she muttered softly. He looked at her again, his eyes clearly telling her he was fine – and clearly telling her he was lying. But he wasn't the only one who heard her question.

"We made him talk," Mahone's voice suddenly said, and she looked up to see him standing in the doorway. She couldn't help the glare that suddenly twisted her features.

"You fucking bastard," she cried. "How could you sell out your own species like that?"

Mahone raised an eyebrow, obviously amused. "Me, Anya? Sam's the one who gave up his own partner."

To her surprise, Sam flinched, looking down and away from her, before looking up, guilt in his eyes. But she didn't really see that.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded. Mahone's grin deepened.

"Sam told us. Sam told us a lot of things, actually. By an hour past sunset, we'll have his partner, and your brother, and you'll all four be gone on little trips leading, most probably, to your death."

The door slammed shut as his words echoed through the cell in more ways than one. Anya gasped as she stared at Sam, finally catching his guilty look.

"You gave them up?" she asked, still not quite believing it. He shook his head earnestly, but she couldn't help but think it was a little too earnest.

"No, Anya, I swear… I didn't… I…" He looked up at the cell door, and then up at the dim light illuminating the small room. And then, finally, back at her.

"Anya, I swear I didn't give them up."

But, taking in his bruises, the way he hunched over as if there were more she couldn't see, the light to his eyes… she couldn't help but believe what Mahone had said.

So, what do you think? Did Sam break? Or has he got a plan? You tell me… even though I wrote it, so I know what's going to happen. See you tomorrow! Hopefully.