Hey Guys!

Just thought I'd let you know that i'm bumping up my raiting to M. i'm purely doing this to be safe...

this is also the longest chap i've ever written, and i hope you enjoy it.

Nikki

Warning: Language

Chapter 19 - Dead Man Walking

'Drop the gun Dean,' Aaron continued in his ear. 'Just coz my gun's on you doesn't mean I can't shoot your beloved brother.'

Dean knew how weak he really was and knew he had no chance of getting the gun off Aaron. His gun hit the ground with a clatter.

'Good boy,' said Aaron. 'I want you to meet my team.'

As he spoke, 4 guys appeared at the door, their eyes as black as night.

'They'll be your escorts this evening,' laughed Aaron. He indicated to two of the men. 'Joel, Anthony, take Sam to his room. Make sure he's locked in tight.'

'Let go,' Joel ordered Dean. Hearing the gun being cocked behind him, Dean reluctantly released his deathly grip he had on Sam.

'Be careful of his ribs,' he managed to croak out. Joel and Anthony just laughed in amusement, and together carried Sam away.

'Be careful of his ribs,' mimicked Aaron. 'Trust me Dean, you've got a lot more to worry about.'

Dean cringed slightly as handcuffs were slipped onto his wrists and tightened harshly. Aaron pushed him into the waiting arms of the other two men.

'Jacob, Marc, have some fun,' grinned Aaron, and disappeared.

'You're not gunna listen to him…are you?' Dean asked hopefully. Jacob just grinned in reply.

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Joel and Anthony reached their destination; a small room with barred windows, empty except for a single bed tucked neatly in the corner and a toilet that was not far from the bed. They dropped Sam uncaringly onto the bed and he stirred slightly. The amount of IV that had gone into his system would keep him knocked out for hours.

But even in his sleep, Sam could still here the echoing drip, drip, drip, of water in his head, still slowly driving him to insanity. Joel quickly secured a shackle to the underside of the bed as Anthony left the room, returning with some blankets. After securing the other end of the shackle to Sam's right ankle, he helped Anthony covering the still shivering boy with the blankets.

'I don't understand why The Master wants us to make him warm after he spent hours making him cold,' muttered Anthony.

'Who cares,' replied Joel. 'We're just doing what The Master wants. No questions asked.'

They left the room, bolting the door shut and clicking a large combination lock onto it.

'That should hold him.'

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Dean muttered to himself for the millionth time as he was shoved around yet another corner. These guys were rough. First they had pushed him down some stairs, and now they were taking him god knows where to have some "fun" as Aaron had put it. As he was shoved again, he turned around angrily to face them.

'Stop shovin' me!' he yelled. 'I'm walking as fast as I can!'

He glared at them, and they just stared stonily back.

'Move!' Jacob finally said, shoving Dean backwards hard.

Dean stumbled and fell, and as they walked past, Jacob and Marc each hooked a hand under his armpits and dragged him the remainder of the way. They pushed open a door, and dragged Dean inside, dumping him on the floor as they prepared. Dean looked warily around. He didn't like the look of this. A crackling fir had been lit in the fireplace, and he could see a metal bar sitting in the hot coals.

'Not another poker,' he moaned internally.

Jacob dragged him to his feet and uncuffed him, but immediately pushed him onto a metal table, locking his hands and feet down with steel restraints. A steel restraint was locked over his neck, preventing head movement, and another was locked over his stomach. He wasn't going anywhere. Dean's view was restricted, and all he could see was Jacob and Marc standing over him, their eyes glistening with anticipation.

'Uh guys…' Dean said nervously as the hot metal bar came into view. 'Have I ever told you that I have an insane fear of red-hot metal bars?'

Marc just laughed as Dean felt him grasp his hand to keep his palm open and facing upwards.

'If you wanted to hold my hand you could've just asked,' said Dean humouredly, trying to take his mind of the situation.

Jacob pressed the metal bar to his palm, and Marc closed Dean's hand hard around it. Dean's screams and the smell of burning flesh hit the air, and time seemed to slow before Marc finally relieved his grip and Dean was able to let go. He breathed heavily as they moved around to the other side of the table and Marc grasped his right hand.

'No…please don't!' cried out Dean, beginning to struggle, but he was locked down so tight that he barely moved.

His scream pierced the air much to the delight of Jacob, who kept the bar on a little bit longer to help savor the moment. When he finally removed it, Dean was still moaning with anguish.

'How are your hands feeling Dean?' asked Marc with a chuckle.

'Oh, they're fucking fantastic,' replied Dean sarcastically. 'They're burning with pleasure.'

'Well, we're not quite done with them yet,' Jacob informed him, pulling an unlabelled bottle from his pocket. Dean looked at it nervously..

'What's that?'

'You'll find out,' grinned Jacob.

He unlocked the restraint from around Dean's neck and with help from Marc, they lifted his head and shoved a cloth in between his teeth, tying it firmly around the back of his head. They locked the restraint back on.

'Now you've got something to sink your teeth into; might help with the pain.'

Dean's breathing became heavy and fast as Jacob tipped the bottle slightly and let a small dribble of the liquid run onto Dean's hand. Dean grunted in pain.

'Do you like it Dean? I always wondered how much Acid can hurt. I wonder if it eats through your flesh.'

Dean's muffled screams echoed through the hallways as the Acid was poured onto his hand. Unable to stand the pain any longer, he passed out.

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Hours later, Sam regained consciousness. It felt like his whole body was on fire; his ribs hurt, he felt woozy from the blood loss and was still groggy from the IV. The upside was he wasn't cold anymore, thanks to the pile of blankets that had been placed over him. He pushed them aside and stood up, glancing at his ankle in dismay. Stupid shackle. He walked towards the door, hoping he could reach it, but found the chain didn't stretch longer than the toilet.

'Dammit!' he muttered.

He checked his pockets for a pick but they had all been cleaned out. Sighing with defeat, he fell back onto the bed, hugging the blankets close and dozed off.

Days passed. He had only had one visit, and that was from someone he didn't know bringing him some water. He was so hungry, and his thought had drifted towards Dean. He didn't even know if he was alive, and he felt so hopeless.

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Dean had lay on that table for a day before he was released and dragged to a room similar to Sam's. The cold hard table had caused his body to ache, along with the fact he had restricted movement. He had drifted in and out of consciousness and while he wasn't awake was when Marc and Jacob took the chance to move him.

When he had awoken on the soft bed, he was relieved that he could move around more, only restricted by a shackle on his ankle. He had been given water, and he had a toilet. But after another day passed, and he had no news of Sam; no sign of life for that matter, he began to get agitated.

He was sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall when Marc walked in on the third day away from Sam. Dean jumped off the bed, his face marred with anger.

'Where the hell is Sam?' he yelled.

'Don't worry, he's fine,' Marc replied in a bored tone. 'You should be worried about yourself.'

'I have everyday of the week to worry about myself. Where is my brother!'

'You won't have another week to worry about yourself. You won't have another day to worry about yourself, in fact,' replied Marc, excited about what he was about to reveal. 'You're on death row.'

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Sam's head jerked up as Joel entered his room.

'Is Dean ok?' he asked immediately. 'If you've hurt him I'll hurt you.'

'Ugh,' said Joel in disgust. 'The faith you two have for each other is sickening.'

He jerked Sam off the bed, and Sam winced slightly at the pain that shot from his ribs. Sam's hands were cuffed behind his back, and the shackle removed, and led out the door with no further comments. He had a bad feeling about this. And his feelings were correct. As he was pushed into a new room, his stomach dropped with fear as his eye's caught sight of the object.

'Is…is that a…?' he stammered.

'Yup,' grinned Joel. 'That is a guillotine.'

Sam felt sick as he was forced into a chair, only metres from the blasted thing.

'And…and what are you using it for?'

Joel just winked. A door opened on the other side of the room and Aaron waltzed in, closely followed by Anthony, Jacob and Marc. Between Jacob and Marc was Dean, or at least Sam thought it was Dean. His hands were tied harshly behind him with coarse rope, feet shackled so he was meekly shuffling along, and a black bag adorned his head.

'Dean man walking,' Joel said to Sam with a wicked grin.

'No! That's not Dean! It's not him. You're trying to trick me!' yelled Sam. He fought to get out of the chair, but Joel held him back, and Anthony came over to help.

'I see you brought our special guest,' commented Aaron, grinning at Sam.

'Go to hell!' yelled Sam. 'That's not my brother!'

Aaron motioned to Marc, who promptly yanked the bag off, revealing Dean, who was gagged with a piece of cloth. Dean blinked at the sudden light, his eyes taking in Sam, then the guillotine. They widened slightly and he shook his head in protest.

'Dean!' yelled Sam, struggling further.

The bag was thrown back onto Dean's head and tied loosely at the neck, before he was dragged forward, his body bucking and heaving in protest, trying to escape. They reached the guillotine and he was forced to his knees.

Sam was still struggling furiously as he watched Marc force Dean's body to bend forward, securing his head in a stock to prevent him from moving when the fatal blow came. Frantic sounds came from beneath the hood and the situation truly sank into Dean. They were really doing this. Dean's mind was in a crazy spin as he tried moving his head but to no avail.

'Do you realize how sharp this blade is Sam?' asked Aaron.

He ran his finger along it, showing Sam the deep cut it had made, the blood streaming down his arm. Aaron put his finger in his mouth, sucking the blood off it, and when he removed it, it had completely healed.

'Any last words Dean?' teased Aaron.

A muffled growl was his reply.

'Countdown from three,' announced Aaron. 'Three…'

'Dean!' screamed Sam.

'Two…' Aaron stood casually, his hands clasped behind his back.

'No!' yelled Sam, attempting to break free again.

'One…'

'PLEASE!'

'Zero!' yelled Aaron.

Jacob's knife made contact with the rope that held the deadly blade in the air, and it shot down to meet its target. With a strangled cry, Sam closed his eyes at the last second, hearing the blade slice through its victim and hitting the wood as it came to a stop. He was close enough to feel the blood splatter onto his face.

The pressure was released from his shoulders, and he forced himself to look. It couldn't be true…it wasn't real. He thought his eyes were deceiving him, but it was real. Upon seeing the motionless body of his brother lying metres away, missing a vital part, he attempted to stand, his legs giving no response, and he collapsed in a heap on the ground, tears running freely down his face.

They'd actually done it. Dean was dead. Again.