Innocence Implied

Disclaimer: Don't own anything to do with Supernatural, sigh just play with the boys and then send em home again...More or less in the same condition as when I er...

Summary: Dean is 21 and Sam is 17.

This is the continuation of my Innocence Trilogy so if you haven't read them it might pay to go and read them first and then come back here. I promise the story will be here waiting for you when you get back.

Author's Note: Sorry it has taken me so long in getting this series back up and running, I'm not sure exactly how often I will be updating but I do promise to do my best to update on a regular basis.

S—D

Chapter Two: Twisted perceptions of time and space.

Then:

Squinting into the sunlight Sam paused and looked around for his brother, the last time he saw him he was leaning against the car now there was no sign of him, 'Dean?' he yelled but the only answer he got was a bird squawking from being disturbed. 'Not funny Dean.'

As he neared the car he noticed a booted foot behind the car, his fear rising to the top notch Sam hurried as fast as his leg allowed him around the impala to find Dean lying unconscious at the rear of the car, the key still in the trunk's lock. 'Dean?'

A slight movement in the shadows caught Sam's eye but before he could react, he felt a stinging sensation in the side of his neck, 'nnngh.' Sam cried out as he painfully dropped to his knees with his eyesight wavering he tried to focus on the face floating above him but the strong drugs took effect and he fell unconsciously next to his big brother.

'Welcome home boys.' Ed smirked as he stood over them and let his gaze roam over their bodies, 'welcome home my boys.'

Now:

Dean's eyes snapped open and he stared around in horror as the mists slowly lifted from his eyes and he could see clearly. He was lying on a single bed, soft restraints trapped his wrists and ankles, a thick blue quilt covered him. He struggled vainly against the restraints, but only managed to make them feel tighter, and for them to bite into his skin. As his awareness grew he became more aware, horrified he realised what he was wearing – oversized pyjamas with airplanes on them.

Twisting his neck painfully he tried to make out where he was when he saw his younger brother lying on an identical bed on the other side of the small room. From what he could tell, Sam was also bound by restraints and dressed in ugly pyjamas decorated with clowns.

Hanging on the wall at the head of each bed was a print, above Dean's was an airplane and above Sam's was a garish and monstrous clown's face. Dean screwed his eyes shut and tried to block the memories from surfacing, the only saving grace he could work out was the fact that he was not wearing those hated pull up pants or adult sized diapers.

'Dea?' Sam's soft cry was almost missed by his brother, who was trying desperately to keep his own tears at bay.

'I'm right here Sammy,' Dean whispered not daring to speak too loud, 'you okay dude?'

'Feel strange,' Sam licked his dry lips and started to inspect their surroundings in a similar fashion to Dean. 'Where ... oh God Dean no!'

'Hey Sammy gotta calm down dude.' Dean tried to comfort his brother but could hardly keep himself on an even keel.

'Ah so my boys are awake,' a nasally pitched voice broke into their fragile calm, both of the boys tensed as the subject of their nightmares and memories came into the room.

'What do you want you freak?' Dean yelled and strained against his bindings.

'Now, now Daniel that is not the way to speak to your father.'

'You are so not my father,' Dean spat out angrily, 'let me outta this and I'll show ya just how much you aint.'

'That is enough insolence out of you young man,' Ed hissed slapping Dean's face sharply, 'do you remember what happens to bad boys?'

'Get a grip, dude I'm not a kid anymore.' Dean snapped his anger overriding anything else.

'At least Sean is being nice and quiet.'

'My name is Sam.' the seventeen year old pushed the words out, 'let us go.'

'My, my you boys need some lessons in manners,' Ed smiled maliciously, 'I have a surprise for you Sean.'

'Leave him alone!' Dean seethed but the only reply he received was another slap, then from seemingly nowhere Ed produced a gag, and swiftly tied it around Dean's head effectively silencing him. Frustrated Dean struggled to the point where blood started to seep through the blue quilt staining it an almost purple hue.

Ed chuckled happily and then moved over to the bed Sam was lying in, he licked his lips as he took in the frail looking teenager, who was only just growing into the man he was destined to become. Now, now, he was wiry, slender with just a hint of muscles, longish chestnut hair with a fringe hiding his eyes. 'Oh my beautiful, beautiful boy, it is a shame but I do have to punish you.'

'N-N-No please, pl-please don't.' Sam stammered out, the last of his bravado gone after watching Ed hit Dean so viciously and then gag him. His eyes widening in absolute terror as he watched Ed lift the covers from the end of his bed, 'wh-what are you d-doing?'

'I have a special surprise for you Sean, now I know it has been a long time but I got it specially done for you ...' Ed giggled and went to the closet, pulling out a shiny silver leg brace, 'got make your poor little leg all better.'

'There's nothing wrong with my leg,' Sam cried out his breath coming in short sharp pants as he tried to remain as calm as he could. 'Pl-please ... no!'

Ed placed the brace against the bed end and then slipped the pants leg up over Sam's swollen knee, 'oh poor baby, you got an owie already?' He cooed, 'let's see if I can make it better.' From under the bed, he pulled out a rubber mallet and waved it in front of Dean's face and then Sam's. He revelled in the fear emanating from both of his boys.

Holding Sam's ankle with one hand he pulled down until his knee was rigid, terrified his captive began to hyperventilate, his green eyes wide and glassy tracked the movement of Ed's arm holding the mallet. 'No!' He screamed repeatedly as he watched the mallet come down and smash against his already injured knee. His back arched with the contact, another scream ripped from deep within as Ed lifted the mallet and once again smashed it against Sam's knee. Finally, Sam passed out from pain and fear, his knee now a grotesque and swollen mess, of bruising and dislocation. Ed patted Sam like he would if the boy were an animal beaten into submission; chuckling to himself, he looked over at Dean. His smile faltered slightly when he saw the look in the older boy's eyes, glittering green shards filled with pure hatred and malice.

Ed turned his attention back to his handiwork, satisfied with the way the knee looked he decided to go and fix himself a drink while he waited for Sam to recover his senses. Nothing turned him on more than the screams coming from his baby boy. The ankle was going to take a little more force, a little more skill and a lot more pain for young Sean.

Daniel would soon settle down and start to behave, and he will have his two boys just where he wanted them.

S—D

Singer Salvage Yard

Sioux Falls, Sth Dakota

Bobby watched the big tough macho hunter John Winchester literally fall into pieces in front of him. When they had found the abandoned impala, John was an unstoppable human force of rage, now a week later he was a sobbing broken mess.

He also knew that it was just luck and sheer mule-headedness that he hadn't joined the distraught man on the floor. The photos of the boys still lay on the floor where they had slipped from the nerveless fingers of John Winchester along with the scathing note, claiming the lives of Dean and Sam Winchester.

'They are not dead John, they're not dead.' Bobby gripped John's biceps and squeezed as hard as he could until the man looked up at him, 'take another look at the photos.'

Taking a shuddering deep breath John pulled away from Bobby and lurched towards the fallen pictures, 'I – I can't ...'

'Ah for fuck's sake John Winchester grow a pair back!' Bobby roared as he snatched the Polaroids up and crushed them again John's chest, 'look at them closely.'

Clenching his jaw shut to stop himself for letting loose at Bobby John pulled the photos from his friend's grip and stared at them, pushing his distressed father's voice to the back of his mind, he forced himself to calm down and to start looking at things with the eyes of a hunter again. 'Sam ...' he said simply looking up at Bobby as the shock passed and the realisation hit him, 'Sam has tears on his face, his eyes are red and swollen ... he's crying.'

'Damn right and now look at Dean's face,' Bobby pointed out.

'Dean?' John squinted down at the image of his boys, forcing himself to ignore the horror and to look closely at his eldest son's face, 'death glare or what?' he muttered with a barely concealed pride, 'Ed should be the one ...'

A knocking at the door silenced both men, simultaneously pulling out their guns and cocking them, 'who is it?' Bobby yelled as he positioned himself on one side of the door while John mirrored him on the other.

'Bobby, John it's me Forrest.' A familiar voice came through from the other side of the door.

'Forrest Wilson.'

Bobby cautiously opened the door keeping his gun hidden until he saw the other man's face and only then did he relax his stance, 'good to see ya agin Forrest wish it was under better circumstances.'

Forrest stepped into the house and shook hands with Bobby before turning to look at John, 'hi John.'

'Forrest thanks for coming.' John put the safety back on his gun and shook the police officer's hand.

'So what's going on?' Forrest asked as he followed the two men into the kitchen and accepted the beer Bobby thrust at him.

'Sit down ya idjits afore ya'll fall down,' Bobby grumbled as he hurried back into the living room to get the note and photos.

'Did you know that they let Ed Harrison, Hartington or whatever his name is now out on parole?' John demanded without any preamble, the shocked look on Wilson's face gave him his answer before the cop had a chance to speak.

'They-they did what?'

'Over ten months ago,' Bobby added as he sat down at the table with the other two.

'It seems that he has been busy since he got out,' John said taking the photos from Bobby, 'he's been tracking the boys again, found out where Sam was going to school ...'

'John what are you saying?' Forrest looked from one hunter to the other and then back again his face paling as the realisation finally hit him. 'He went after the boys?'

'Dean called me, Ed was at Sam's school gave the kid a helluva fright, the boys decided to head out to meet up with me and Bobby. When they didn't arrive at the ...' John's voice failed him then and he looked over at Bobby nodding at him to take over.

'We drove back the way we knew the boys took and found the impala abandoned at a rest stop, there were drag marks at the back of the car and tyre marks but that was it. The ... the key was still in the trunk's lock.'

John slid the photos across the table and then pushed himself upright, unable to look at them anymore, 'need another drink.' He muttered to no one in particular.

'These arrived this morning the boys have been missing a week.' Bobby turned the photos face up in front of Forrest. The police officer picked up the first one and felt as though someone had hit him with a ten tonne elephant.

The photo was taken from the doorway of a small bedroom. Two single beds dominated the side walls; a small chest of drawers separated them. Above one bed hung a picture of a clown, above the other one was a picture of an airplane. But it was the occupants of the two beds that stole his attention and his breath. He hadn't seen the Winchester brothers for a few years but was able to recognise them immediately, and it broke his heart. Sam lay on the bed with the clown picture above it, arms and legs spread-eagled and tied to the four bed posts, dressed in a garish pair of pyjamas covered in clowns, it was the brace though that really caught Forrest's attention. On the other bed Dean lay in a similar position, but his face was a mess of old and new bruises, dried and flaked blood decorated his lower lip although the look he had on his face and in his eyes made him shiver. The glittering green eyes filled with impotent hate and rage fixed on whoever was holding the camera, his murderous intent clear on his battered features.

There were two more photos, close ups of each of the boys, the pain and fear etched on Sam's face elicited a muffled cry from Forrest.

'Oh yeah they came with this.' Bobby handed the note over to Forrest and then sat back waiting for his old friend's reaction.

SAY GOOD BYE TO YOUR SONS WINCHESTER. JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW THAT THEY DIED IN A LOT OF PAIN.

'D-Died?' Forrest gasped looking up at the two hunters in front of him, 'the boys?'

'Take a good look at the pictures Forrest.' Bobby urged him, as he did with John seemingly minutes ago. Forrest picked up the photos and studied the images, he saw the wetness shining on Sam's face, the swollen and red eyes filled with pain, and then he looked again at the look on Dean's face, 'they're not dead, the bastard.' Forrest spat out, 'does he think that you're that stupid?'

'Look what ... '

'He has replicated the room exactly ... as Claude.' Forrest cut off Bobby; he looked at the photos again, this time as a police officer and not a family friend. One who had been with them since the boys first disappeared all of those years ago.

'How?' John stared at Forrest, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to formulate the question he had no answer for, 'do you? I mean ahh do you...'

'do I think that this seals it and Ed was definitely without a doubt the third man?' Forrest looked up at John and then let his gaze drift back to the table before he answered his own question, 'yes, yes I do. The man who has the boys is most assuredly the third man, in all of this. Guys I haven't stopped investigating this ring of paedophiles since Dean and Sam disappeared when they were little. The task force I set up has had some success in arresting members of it, but ... but the main men involved the ones who run it all always seemed to elude us. We concluded that they had someone on the inside but that proved a fruitless exercise, we couldn't unearth the mole.' Forrest ran his fingers through his thinning hair and looked up at the two hunters in front of him, 'sometimes I used to think that maybe it wasn't one of my usual suspects I was dealing with but maybe it was one of yours.'

Forrest became a useful ally and friend in the police force for the Winchesters and their extended "family" he stumbled into the truth of what they do while investigating the disappearance of a teenage girl, only to find out that John was hunting the same girl who was possessed by a minor demon.

'What made you think that it was one of our usual suspects?' John asked relaxing slightly when the subject moved to territory that is more comfortable for him: the supernatural.

'Not sure how to explain it but sometimes it felt as though something else was controlling things, maybe it was just my imagination working over time,' Forrest shook his head and went over to the coffee pot, needing to do something, anything. 'Ya know once I thought one of my officer's eyes turned black.' He chuckled softly, 'yeah just my overactive imagination.'

Bobby and John exchanged meaningful glances behind the officer's back, they knew from experience nothing is just an overactive imagination.

'Oh by the way we gave the task force a name.'

'Yeah what?' Bobby and John asked simultaneously.

'Task Force Winchester.' Forrest turned to face them a knowing grin forming, 'most of the officers involved think it's coz of the rifle ...'

John's cell phone ringing broke the easy silence between the three men, confused at the unknown number on the screen John answered the call with his heart beating so hard against his chest he thought that it would drown out the caller's voice.

'Winchester.'

'Dad?'

'Dean?'

'God dad you gotta help us, he – he ... Sammy ... please dad don't have ... find us please.' The call cut then and John stood listening to silence. His eldest son, ultra-alpha male soldier of his son wept and begged him to find them. His son sounded broken, more than just broken physically ... John found himself wondering if his son would ever come back from this emotionally. When he looked up and saw the stricken looks on the faces of his friends he realised just then that he had spoken his worries out loud.

'Dammit John you have two sons, what about Sam?' Bobby growled, his heart already fractured for Dean after hearing John's plaintive cry, but what about Sam?

'D-Dean ... begged for help, he started to say something about Sam but ... just begged me to find them.' John broke, 'I have no idea what happened to my baby boy.'

TBC