Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural (Warning: brutality follows!)

Misplaced Revenge

Dean awoke groggily, his head sore where Walt had hit him with the baseball bat. The sun had risen, and was blazing down into the ruined building, hurting his eyes as he looked around. Dean sat up slowly, shaking his head to clear it, and then his heart went still.

Sam.

His little brother was broken and bruised, yet again. The only good thing was that this time it wasn't Dean who had done it. Dean shuffled over to his brother, made more difficult by the thick chain that was tied around his hands. After a laborious effort, he made it to Sam and turned him over, his breath hitching in his throat.

Sam was in bad shape. His eyes were once more swollen and bruised, his lip was split, he was missing three fingernails and three toenails all together. His pinky was broken, as was his wrist. His neck had a friction burn around it from Walt's rope, and his complexion was pale. Dean expertly probed his baby brother with his eye, looking for any other sources of pain or discomfort, and his eyes trailed over the slashes in his clothes, and the odd angle his leg was at. Dean forced down a bout of rage. Walt must have continued hitting Sam after he had knocked Dean out. He would pay for that.

"Sammy, Sammy." Dean said gently, and Sam moaned in the back of his throat as he slowly opened his bruised eye.

"De'n? What you doing here?" he asked worriedly, trying to sit up but he found it a lot harder than he had expected so gave it up as a bad job.

"I'm rescuing you of course." Dean said as though it were obvious, but the sceptical look Sam gave him, which encompassed the chain around his hands, showed him that his brother didn't think much of his rescuing technique.

"Right. Dean, they've beaten me to a pulp, and you don't look too hot either. You're very red and your eyes are dilated." He said, all concern for his big brother, and Dean had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. When would he ever learn that he was the one who came first?

Come to think of it, his head was still sore. He was probably concussed. Something else the son of a bitch had to pay for.

"Where are Walt and Roy?" Sam asked, and Dean squinted out of the slit he had peered through last night, and saw no sign of the truck.

"They must have gone to town for supplies. Idiots. Come on Sammy, let's get out of here." Dean said, and turned around only to be met by Walt's rifle, which was pointed at his face.

"Sit down, or I blow your brother full of holes. You don't seem to get this Winchester. This is over. We're in charge here, not you. You're done. Now sit the hell down, we have some things to discuss." Walt growled, and Dean did as he was told reluctantly, but made a point of sitting in front of Sam, who was still struggling to sit up.

Dean kept an eye on Sam through the corner of his eye, and looked at the tired bags under his eyes. An expression he had seen before...then it clicked. Sam had looked much the same when he had had dehydration, and Dean quickly put it together. With part of the roof missing, Sam had been unconscious in the sun for hours, and he was on the verge of dehydrating. Dean squirmed a bit closer to his brother, his worry mounting.

How could he have been so stupid as to underestimate Walt? The bastard had killed them both before, if nothing else that showed how dangerous they were. And Dean had blazed in, all guns firing, and hadn't done himself or Sam any good whatsoever. He had to fix this and fast. Preferably before Sam completely dehydrated. After giving his brother another concerned look, and not liking how away with it he looked, Dean glared up at their captor.

"Let Sam go." He growled, and Roy laughed as he entered the ramshackle building.

"Let him go? You think you can start the Apocalypse, set loose the Mother of All and let your friend let Leviathans free and you think we'll just let you go? No Dean. You see, Walt and I agree, you and your freakshow brother are dangerous to everyone and everything. We'll be praised for what we're gonna do. But don't worry, we're not going to kill you just yet. No, you boys have caused far too much damage. There has to be some payback." He said silkily, and Dean didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Look you bloodthirsty ass holes, we paid our dues. Sam went to Hell for crying out loud. And he didn't just go to the resort like I did, he went to the hell of hells, where Lucifer himself hangs out. Sam killed himself to save this god forsaken little lump of a world, that's full of jackasses like you who think they know everything. You don't know the hell he's been through, and you come in here and decide he hasn't suffered enough? No one's suffered more than Sam." Dean bit out furiously.

Walt then lunged for Dean, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him from the ground. Dean gagged in surprise, his legs kicking as he was dangled in the air by the other hunter.

"Dean! Let him go!" Sam yelled, his eyes fixed on his big brother.

"You need to learn to shut your mouth Dean. You humiliated us. Do you have any idea how stupid you made us look last time? We were boasting to every hunter we met that we had killed the Winchesters, we were the toast of every hunting bar in the country. We were heroes, and then we got word that you had come back from the dead. Throw our lives into the gutter will you? Do that to me? I don't think so!" Walt spat, as Dean continued to gag, his eyes starting to roll.

Sam swung with his good leg, making Walt stagger backwards and drop Dean, who took a deep, shuddering breath urgently. Roy then brutally kicked Sam in the head, making the younger hunter cry out in pain.

"Sammy!" Dean croaked as Roy kicked him again, this time in the gut, making Sam heave.

"Roy! Can it. Come on, we got stuff to get ready. We'll be back in a bit boys." Walt sneered maliciously, and he and Roy went back to the other part of the building, while Dean sidled up to Sam, who was wheezing slightly.

"Sammy? You ok?" Dean asked softly, and Sam gave him a feeble nod.

Dean cursed their captors, and looked at the sun, which was getting higher and higher into the sky. Sam was already close to dehydrating. He had to keep him out of the sun as long as possible, but come the afternoon, they would both be baked virtually, the heat reflected off the white stone they were surrounded by. Dean cursed his own stupidity once again, and turned to look at Sam, who had now managed to sit up, dust caked into his still slick hair. He really didn't look good.

"Ugh, I feel horrible." He complained, and Dean nodded to the shaded corner.

"Come on, let's get you into the shade." He said, beginning to slide over, made ten times more difficult by his bound hands.

Sam dragged himself over with his one good hand, they hadn't bothered to restrain him, probably figuring that with a bust knee and a broken wrist (again) that he would pose the least trouble out of the two Winchesters. He leaned against the wall, sitting beside his brother, and when Dean saw how much Sam was already struggling, he assumed a better position, and as expected Sam laid his head on Dean's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry Dean." He mumbled, and Dean looked at his brother in confusion.

"What for?" he asked, not having a clue what he could be talking about.

"Getting kidnapped again. I was trying to get back to warn you, but they ambushed me." He said sadly, and Dean shook his head.

"It wasn't your fault Sammy. I found blood in the carpark, I know you gave it your best shot. They just overpowered you. This is my fault, I shouldn't have rushed in. But I'll get us out of this, then we'll take those wankers down in the process ok?" he asked, and Sam nodded sleepily.

"Why do they hate us so much? We fixed the Apocalypse, Eve wasn't out fault and neither were the Leviathans. They were Cas and Crowley." Sam grumbled, and Dean fought off a smirk.

"I'm thinking they must have very small penises." He said, and was heartened when he heard Sam snigger despite his wounds.

As Sam laid and drifted to sleep (Dean supposed they had kept him up torturing him), Dean thought about their situation. The building they were in was two stories, and it looked as though there were three rooms left standing. Walt and Roy must have taken the first floor, just in case Dean got loose and gutted them in their sleep, so they could hear him coming. There was the main room where they had been torturing Sam all night, and there was this smaller room, where he and Sam were being held. Dean cursed. Walt and Roy may be idiots, but they would have taken his weapons up the stairs with them. So that ruled that out, especially when Sam was in a bad way and Dean couldn't use his hands. They also couldn't make a break for it, they would be shot, and they both knew experience that being shot by Walt's gun hurt like hell. So what did that leave them with?

Roy then entered, smiling sickly, and threw a bucket of water onto him and Sam, startling Sam awake. While he swore at the other hunter, it was some water for Sam at least.

"You got lunch on the go?" Dean snarled, and Roy laughed mockingly.

"Not quite. You're about to learn that no one makes a fool of Walt." He said, and grabbed Sam, hauling him off of Dean despite the string of incentive Dean sent his way, and he dragged Sam with his already broken wrist, making him gasp in pain as he did so, into the next room.

A bad feeling settled into his stomach. Whatever Walt had planned couldn't be good, and his feeling of trepidation was made worse then Roy pulled him up by his spiky hair, making him hiss in pain and annoyance, and dragged him through to see what Walt was doing.

Sam was once more tied up into the chair he had been last night, and he was looking at Dean, and Dean hated the look that was in his eyes. In the slightly more shaded room, he looked scared, begging for his big brother to help him even though he knew Dean could do nothing to help, his eyes full blown puppy dog, wide and fearful, and it made Dean seethe with anger, seeing that look on his brother's face and being unable to do anything about it. Dean struggled against his bonds, jangling the chains and Roy spun around and smacked him with the butt of his rifle, sending him to the stairs, cursing and spitting blood from his mouth as his gum bled.

"If you're going to kill us you sons of bitches, at least have the decency to do it properly." Dean spat, blood flying from his mouth in his anger.

"Or are you too cowardly?" Sam sneered, making his brother proud by the defiance in his voice, which didn't match the terror in his eyes.

"You know Sam, because Dean made us, we didn't get to really punish you for the Apocalypse." Walt commented idly, walking over to a table

Dean and Sam, despite their peril, looked at each other incredulously.

"You do realise you blew a massive hole in his fricking chest right?" Dean asked, and even Roy smirked a little at that as he saw Walt ball his hands in anger.

"Walt, we don't have to torture them. Let's just kill them and get out of here." Roy said, and Sam glowered at the other man hatefully.

"You forgot what they've done? This pair are a threat to the world, Roy. Every time they wake up in the morning, these demonic little bastards further screw up the world. We can't just let that slide. We're hunters, it's our job to hunt down monsters. That's what this pair are. And if we want to have a little fun in the process, that's up to us." Walt said, his eyes shining maliciously and Dean suddenly started to get a really bad feeling about him.

"Hang on. We aren't monsters. Listen to us. The angels manipulated us into starting the Apocalypse. And we're the ones who ended it. I took Lucifer and Michael down into the cage and trapped them both there and saved the world, so people like you can keep on living. We did our time for that, we paid our penance." Sam said desperately, and blanched as he saw what Walt was holding.

Dean tried to stand, but he received a blow to the stomach and he wheezed as he fell back to the ground.

In Walt's hands was a whip, and he was slowly walking around to Sam's back.

"Don't you dare you sick son of a bitch." Dean barked, and Walt smiled sickeningly.

"Do what? Oh, this?" he asked, and with vicious pleasure, he lashed the whip across Sam's back.

Sam howled in pain, and Walt pulled the whip away from him, and Dean observed the drip of blood from the tails, and wanted nothing more than to rip the bastards head off.

"Why are you doing this? We fixed the damn Apocalypse, we fixed Eve and we will fix the Leviathans. You don't need to hurt Sam." Dean said, eyes pulsing in anger as he willed Walt to combust, while Sam took shuddering breaths to calm himself, his pain filled puppy dog eyes looking to Dean for comfort.

"That's exactly the thing though Dean. You two are the ones who continually screw up the world, but no, it doesn't bother you. How many hunters are dead because of you? How many people? Gordon Walker was a friend of mine, a good hunter, and he was killed because you took the side of a demon shagger rather than your own people!" Walt spat, and Sam glared up at him, his voice hitching in his throat.

"Yeah, Gordon was killed, but that's because he became a freaking vampire! I was a hunter, I hunted." He snapped, and Walt lashed him again, making him cry out in pain.

"Don't you lie to me." Walt said, whipping Sam once more, and Dean saw the tears of pain fall from his brother's eyes.

"Who else did you lose huh? We lost our parents, the closest thing to a mother and a sister that we ever had, we lost Rufus, we lost each other, we lost our brother, we lost Cas, and we lost Bobby! Who the hell do you think you are? You've lost friends, big deal. We all have, get over it!" Dean roared, and he knew that if Sam hadn't been in intense pain, he would have received a look that would have just screamed 'really'?

"See Dean? You're both poison. Hit him good Walt. You know if you were repentant, we might not mind as much. But we lost a good number of hunters all down to you, good friends, that let your demon friends overrun the world, and it's happening all over again! Lee Chambers, Gordon, Gwen Campbell, Steve Bose, Reggie Hull and Tim Janklow, all killed by messes you guys started, and you're on a roll! More hunters die every week, and its all because of you." Roy snarled, and Dean glared daggers at him.

Lee Chambers definitely wasn't their fault, and they had saved her daughter. Gordon had brought it on himself. But Gwen had been different, Dean had been possessed when he had killed her. And the other four had been killed not long after roughing up Sam after the Apocalypse began.

"That was for Lee. That was for Gwen. That was for Steve. That was for Reggie. That was for Tim. And that's because I didn't like your father. That's because I don't like your brother. And that's because I don't like you. Oh, and this is for being born in the first place!" Walt spat venomously, whipping Sam with each sentence, despite the stream of swearing Dean was throwing at him and the crying out in pain Sam was doing.

Dean had never felt so helpless. Seeing his brother, lashed by this sadist with a grudge he really had no business having, it was killing him. It was his little brother that was being ruthlessly tortured for events he'd had no control over, no say over, no power over, and he could do nothing to stop it. And Dean had done the same thing to him not so very long ago. Blamed Sam for everything, taken it all out on him. And he had nearly lost him. But he had to believe he would never enjoy the pain Walt was inflicting on Sam, like Walt and Roy were. Sam howled once more, cutting through Dean's heart.

"Let him go you bastard!" Dean bellowed, watching as Sam squirmed in the seat.

"You see? You're both poison, polluting the world wherever you go. When you die, you don't have the decency to stay dead, you came back. You made a fool out of me. And every time one of you has died, its been bad for the world, but you don't care as long as you two are happy. No more." Walt said, putting back the whip and picking up another instrument.

Dean glowered at him, watching warily as he lifted up his bat again.

"Is that what this is about? You've lost friends and you blame us? You don't care about the world, or your job, you just like the fact that we give you an outlet for your anger don't you? We made a fool of you, and you want to make us pay." Dean said, and Walt shrugged.

"Yeah, what of it?" he asked in an offhand way, slamming the bat into Sam's shoulder, and Sam howled in pain.

Dean looked at his little brother. Walt was sick. He was doing exactly what he had done in Dillimore, finding out everything that he thought was wrong with the world, and venting them on Sam. Sam looked at him desperately, tears of pain in his eyes, a pleading puppy dog expression, and Dean knew his resolve would break soon if he couldn't save Sam.

"We did our time for the Apocalypse. It's over. We saved your ungrateful ass, we lost a lot of good friends in the process doing it too. And I bet you haven't so much as seen a Leviathan. Castiel let them loose, there was nothing we could do to stop it." Dean growled, and Walt gave him a sickly smile.

"Ah, I've heard different. I heard you had plenty of time to stop him, but didn't, because you wanted to look after this piece of shit," he said, indicating Sam, who was trying to steady his breathing, while his back burned, and his blood trickled down his back.

"Cas nearly killed Sam!" Dean spat, watching worriedly as Sam looked close to passing out, his head lolling with the pain that was overloading his senses.

"And who, who told you?" Sam asked breathlessly, struggling to remain coherent and conscious.

"We ain't the only hunters who want you dead. Loads of us do. Some of those pathetic wimps forgave you when you saved the world. Not us. We lost good friends because of you, and we knew we'd get you again. And now we get to do the job properly. No more Apocalypse, no more pet angel. You die this time, its for keeps. And you can't imagine how sweet that sounds to us. After all you've done, everything you've set loose on the world, it's time we stop your cancer once and for all." Roy said boastfully, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"You kill us, how you going to stop the Leviathans?" Dean taunted, partly bluffing. After all, it was his and Sam's lot in life to clean up these messes and they would clean them up too in the end.

"Ah I hoped we'd get to this. You see, even though you're going to die, we'll still need to deal with the Leviathans. And while we'd love nothing more than to box you up and ship you off to them, we can't do that, so we're just going to have to make do with what we've got. Once we kill you, we kill the Leviathans, and that's the end of it. But we don't want you to just tell us Dean. Give us a little sport." Walt said, and picked up a vegetable peeler before moving towards Sam, and Dean had to fight not to vomit as he realised what the sick scumbag was about to do to his brother.

"We don't know how to kill them, believe me!" Dean yelled, his voice growing hysterical as Walt bent down and pulled out Sam's good arm, knowing what the scumbag was about to do to his brother and being unable to do anything about it.

"Wrong answer." Walt said with a sadistic smile, and peeled a strip of flesh from his arm.

Sam screamed out in pain, jerking in the chair, and snapping his bleeding arm out of Walt's grip, smacking him in the jaw. Walt staggered back, the peeler flying to the floor as he cursed. Roy started forward to help his partner, but Dean leapt up and tackled him to the floor, crushing him beneath his weight. Sam tried to get his other arm loose, but he was swaying on the spot, his eyes unfocused, and as he turned to try and free himself, Dean saw the mess that Walt had made of his back. Sam was swaying, deathly pale, looking like he was about to vomit, he was bleeding from his wounds, and he could barely stand, tears of pain running down his face. Dean headbutted Roy and struggled to his feet, but then a bullet lanced out from a pistol, slicing through the side of his leg, making him grunt in pain as he lost his balance due to the unexpected pain.

"No, Dean!" Sam cried in panic, turning to see what had befallen his brother, seeing him clutch his leg, and even though he was almost delirious with pain, he was still relieved to see that Dean wasn't in any immediate danger.

"Sam, look out!" Dean yelled, kicking a recovering Roy.

It was too late. Walt leapt at Sam, punching him in the face and Sam promptly collapsed back into the chair, his head rolling. Walt pointed the gun at Dean's head, but Sam acted instinctively, kicking Walt to save Dean. It was a feeble kick but it distracted Walt, who leaned to the table and picked up the rope that Dean had recovered from the car park.

"No, Sammy!" Dean cried in panic, realising what Walt was about to do.

Walt hatefully slammed his fist into Sam's jaw, sending his head reeling back and threatening to tip the blood stained chair over, but it stopped just short of doing so. Sam was panting in pain, eyes wide and fearful, blood running down his arm and back, pain blazing across his body, and he knew he didn't have long before he either passed out, or his body packed it in and he died.

Walt then wrapped the rope around Sam's neck, pulling it tight in an instant.

"No! Please, we don't know how to kill them, let him go!" Dean screamed as Roy got back to his feet and pinned Dean to the floor with his foot.

Sam was already gagging for air, his good leg buckling as he tried to gain purchase. His bleeding arm reached up to try and loosen the rope, but Walt hit the wound he had inflicted, and Dean heard a strangled cry of pain from his brother as his arm dropped.

This was it. They were going to kill Sam, his little brother, the one good thing he had left, the only family he had left, and he wouldn't be able to stop it.

"You were warned Sam! Now we had to hurt you, and now we'll need to hurt your brother too. We were going to torture you to get what we wanted from him, then off you in front of him before killing him. But now, I think you need to learn respect a little longer. You can't go around trying to hurt hunters like me. We're doing a public service by killing you vermin. You're filth, demon loving shit who fuck up the world day in and day out, and good people die because of it! Teach you to try and make fools of me!" Walt roared, drawing the cord even tighter, Dean could hear it creaking.

Sam's leg was buckling, his arm swinging uselessly as he struggled. His face was already bright red from the loss of air. Sam was gagging desperately, taking shuddering gasps in order to try and suck in some air to spare his life, but it was to no avail. Each gag drove a knife into Dean's heart and he looked desperately at his brother, who's eyes were currently rolling in his head, and he knew he would give them anything they wanted if it meant saving Sam.

"Please, let him go! Sodium borax! It hurts them, burns them, it doesn't kill them but its the best we've got, please, please don't kill him!" Dean pleaded desperately, and a second later he watched as Walt released the rope, though Sam's eyes rolled back and his eyes closed as he passed out.

"What now Walt? This has gone on long enough..." Roy said worriedly, looking at just how much Walt had victimised Sam and feeling slightly sickened, while Dean yelled angrily, ignoring the tears that were in his eyes as he watched his hurt brother's chest very slowly rise and fall.

"Yeah, you're right." Walt said, unlocking Sam's broken wrist from the chair and shoving him to the floor.

Sam flopped down right beside Dean, his eyes closed and facing Dean, and worry flooded him as he saw just how much damage Walt had done.

Dean said a word he usually would never say, as Sam hated it and he always told him off when he did it, and Walt smiled evilly.

"Language. Take his brat brother to the sun room Roy. Me and Dean are going to have a little talk. Oops, almost forgot." Walt said theatrically, glowering at Dean and picked up a full syringe.

"What you doing to him now?" Dean demanded as Roy forced him into the chair and tied him to it.

"It's morphine. Don't want him to die from his injuries before we kill him now do we?" Walt asked, sticking the syringe into Sam's neck, who of course didn't make a move at all.

Dean saw where the sun was, and knew Sam would be in an even worse state when he got to him, the sun was reaching its highest and the entire room would be bathed in light. He would be very dehydrated.

"Take him next door." Walt sneered, and Roy did so, and Dean glowered up at Walt as Roy dragged Sam off by the broken wrist.

"Just so you know Walt. We are going to get out of this. And for everything you just did to my brother, I'm going to make you hurt. Make you hurt loads. Just a warning. I'm gonna be pissed." He snarled, and Walt smiled smugly.

"Ooh, I'm so scared. You said you would be pissed last time, and all we've got is a few bruises. Oh, Dean Winchester, how scary he is! He's pissed with me, what will I do?" Walt mocked in a baby voice.

Dean smiled grimly, fantasising about torturing Walt.

"Let's get this show on the road." He said, promising vengeance on the two of them, and Walt cheerfully obliged, as Roy came back through to watch.

XX

The day was cooling down when Walt finally got bored and tossed Dean inside with Sam. The good thing was, his hands weren't bound anymore. The bad thing was, his right wrist was broken just like Sam's but at least he had something to work with.

While nothing compared to what Sam had endured, Dean's own torture had been far from kind, and he was missing fingernails, a few teeth, was bruised and bleeding, and had a damaged shoulder and he felt like his nose had been broken too.

But as he saw Sam lying in the room, turned red by the setting sun, and ignoring the victorious laughs of Walt and Roy from above, all his own problems vanished as he made his way to Sam's side, sidling along beside him to keep him warm in the night desert air which was quickly approaching.

"Aww Sammy I'm so sorry I screwed up. This is my fault." He whispered, curling himself around his beaten brother, his left hand stroking Sam's still near immaculate hair.

Neither of them could make a break for it now, they wouldn't stand a chance. But he was determined that they weren't going to die here. No, they would escape, and then they would get better...and then they would go on a very special hunt.

Walt was insane, and evil, and sadistic. While he had initially claimed that he was after them because he was fed up of things they did screwing up the world, now he was just doing it because he could. He didn't really care about the hunters who had died because of their mistakes, he suspected that was just something that Roy had been told to make him go along with it. No, Walt was doing this for one reason. He hated the two brothers, and wanted to make them suffer for making him seem weak, make them suffer because he was, as Dean strongly suspected, was jealous, make them suffer because he got off on victimising a helpless Sam. They were hurting Sam because of mistakes he and Dean had made, mistakes they had atoned for, fixed. But that didn't matter to Walt. All that mattered was that Walt had tried to kill the one who he thought was responsible for sending the world to hell, and it hadn't worked. So despite all that they had done, everything they had worked for, he still wanted Sam dead, just because of past mistakes and because he had escaped once before.

There was nothing noble about Walt's reasoning. This was revenge, pure, simple and sadistic. He was hurting Sam because he could, to prove that he was better than the one who had started the apocalypse. Now Dean was certain the bastard had a small cock.

They lay there for hours, Dean still stroking Sam's hair, and hearing snores from their captors, and he was just about to doze off due to exhaustion himself when he heard Sam speak.

"No, don't..." he moaned, and Dean's anger flared again, thinking he was reliving his torture.

"Oh I am so going to murder that sorry son of a bitch." He vowed dangerously, rubbing Sam's back to try and calm him.

"It's not worthless." Sam protested quietly, and Dean looked at his brother through the darkness, head cocked in confusion. What was he talking about?

"Sammy?" he asked softly, not wanting Walt and Roy to hear.

"It's not worthless Cas. Don't. Please don't Dean." Sam continued to moan, and Dean was very confused, but by the sound of his voice, he knew Sam didn't need to be thinking about whatever he was thinking about.

Why would he be thinking about Cas and Dean? What was worthless? Dean racked his brains.

"Dean, don't, please! It's not worthless, I'm not worthless. Please Dean!" Sam protested, and Dean had had enough.

"Sammy, you got to wake up bro. You're dreaming." And I can't figure out what the hell you're dreaming about and it's pissing me off, he thought.

Why would he think Sam was worthless? When had he ever thought that? Had he ever thought that? And what did Cas have to do...?

Abruptly, it clicked, as Sam unknowingly provided another clue.

"No! Dean, don't leave it!" he protested sadly, and Dean could hear the tears in his voice.

He knew what Sam was dreaming about. Walt and Roy killing them. Their trip to heaven. Sam not having any memories of him, while all of his denied who Sam was. Cas discovering that God had abandoned them all and didn't care.

The day Dean had done something so cruel and unfeeling, he had never forgotten it.

Done something he had regretted the second he did it, despite all that had happened between them.

The day Castiel had told them that the amulet Sam had once given him for Christmas, a mark of devotion from his little brother, of his love, of his favouritism of Dean over their dad, was worthless.

The day Dean had agreed, to hurt his brother, when he had given up all hope.

The day Dean had thrown away his amulet.

And by the sounds of it, broke Sam's heart in the process.

Well that was disturbing.

So, Walt has shown his true colours as an evil, twisted insane psychopath, and Roy is just his faithful dope.

Apologies for how dark this chapter was, but it seemed to be in the small snippet we got of Walt that he really was a violent and evil man (shooting Sam and Dean aside). Just goes to show that humans are some of the worst creatures the boys can deal with.

What now? Both boys are rather worse for wear, and Sam has remembered something that was never addressed: Dean's dumping of the amulet. i wanted to string him up when he did that, and I will explore that next chapter.

Thank you to doyleshuny for having someone to rant about Dean to, and also to Kirabaros for giving me inspiration for one of the reasons our two villains loathe the boys so much.

So what next? Dean and Sam have issues stemming from their last encounter with Walt and Roy to deal with before they even consider getting out of this mess. But a turnaround is coming, and we are halfway through so watch this space for an update!

Thank you for the reviews and please give me a lot more, and apologies once again for the darkness of this chapter.

Until next time, please review!