Crowley dropped the bloody knife on the table. All of his tools were covered in blood. He looked over at the hunter, his lips curling up into a wide smile. Dean's head was cast down, he seemed to have lost the strength to hold it up somewhere around the fifty-sixth cut, and his arms were so caked in blood, you could barely tell where one cut ended and another began. Crowley walked back over to Dean. He could hear the hunter's rough breathing, just barely audible. Raising his hand up, Crowley ran a finger along one of the tender wounds across Dean's chest. The tired hunter whined in protest.

"This, this right here is why I love whips. You can slice some one to ribbons with just a simple flick of the wrist. Don't worry though, they won't scar. None of the cuts will. I was very careful, cutting just enough to cause pain, but not enough to do any permanent damage."

Crowley walked back over to the table and picked up the nine tails whip, one of his personal favorites, along with a small silver remote.

"The object you are currently chained to is one of my personal favorites. I had it custom made so that should I want to, I could position my victim any way I wanted while still having them chained and under my control. Like so."

Crowley pressed a button on the remote. All at once, the chains slackened and Dean tumbled down to the floor. The hunter was to tired to move, he couldn't even lift his head. Crowley walked slowly around the hunter, loving how broken and weak he looked, then stopped by Dean's feet. A cold smile spread across Crowley's face. Flexing his wrist once, Crowley raised his arm and began striking Dean's back. The hunter cried out against his gag, but lacked the strength to move away from the blows. Crowley struck Dean again. Blow after blow, until his back was more blood than flesh. Finally, Crowley stopped. He walked back to the table and gently placed the whip down once more. Crouching down, Crowley rolled the hunter over onto his back. Dean, whining loudly, as his new wounds grazed the ruff carpet. Crowley undid the strap of the gag and removed it from Dean's mouth.

"Are you sure Alastair tortured you? Cause from where I'm standing, you look like nothing more than a sad broken toy. If I didn't have even more fun planned for you, I might seriously have considered leaving you here for dead."

Dean didn't respond. He couldn't move, he couldn't think. Hell, he could barely breath with out a white hot searing pain shooting through all his limbs. His eyelid felt like led. He would have loved nothing more than to pass out, but the pain kept him awake. Crowley chuckled darkly above him.

"I was hoping to have more fun this evening, but it doesn't look like you can take anymore. Oh well, we have tomorrow night after all. I suppose I can wait a little."

Dean's vision blurred then. He could hear Crowley moving behind him, but that was it. His eyes were starting to betray him. Then, he heard the sound of metal scraping. Dean struggled to focus. Crowley was removing the chains from his wrists and ankles. Dean's heart beat quickened. Why was he taking the chains off? What fresh new hell did the demon have planned for him? Once all the chains had been removed Crowley grabbed Dean by the wrists, hoisting him up and over his shoulder. Dean's whole body ached. Even the smallest movement sent white stars dancing across his vision. Dean could hear the sound of keys, then a door being opened. Crowley dropped Dean down into the open space. He waited for Dean to realize just where he was. The shock, then anger that crossed the hunter's half dead face, how Crowley loved that look on him.

"That's right boy, payback's a bitch."

With that Crowley closed the lid, sealing Dean in a never ending darkness. To say Dean was pissed was an understatement. He didn't know which was worse. The fact that he was now locked in the trunk of his own car unable to even utter a syllable in protest, or that Crowley was about to get behind the wheel of his baby. Dean shuddered inwardly. Where the hell was Crowley taking him? And when was this nightmare going to end? A cold voice whispers in the back of Dean's mind,

When you're dead.