Author's Note (*Trigger Warning*) – Hey guys! So the Eleventh Chapter is finally up. Yay! Just a quick warning that this chapter, like the last, will contain scenes of torture. Again nothing graphic but for all those that can't read stuff like that without feeling slightly green afterwards, you have been warned. Happy reading! =D

Chapter Eleven

John was true to his word. They came for him every day. They questioned him, beat him, cut him, burned him. They did whatever they could in a ruthless effort to get him to break.

Sam used their visits to keep track of time at first, to count the days that he had been trapped in that awful, stinking cell but after a while, the visits began to blur together. Hunger, pain and fatigue had him passing out so often that he couldn't tell the difference between one day and the next.

During the first few sessions, Sam had fought back, tried to break out of his bonds, attempted to bite the hunters whenever they got too close and screamed out obscenities that would definitely have made Benny proud but as the days dragged by and his strength slowly ebbed away, so did his will to fight.

But he never broke. He never told the hunters a word of what they wanted to hear. Instead, he resigned himself to dying in that prison at the hands of his oppressors.

But dying was a much longer, drawn out experience than he could have imagined. He hadn't been given anything to eat or drink since stepping foot into enemy territory and though severely weakened, his body still clung onto whatever life was still left in there.

The day that death was supposed to take him began with Gordon.

"Wakey, wakey, fang. It's time for some more fun," the hunter called in a sing-song voice, rousingSam from another night's restless slumber.

Sam looked up from behind a curtain of lank, greasy hair and watched silently as Gordon stepped into his cell, smiling brightly as he dumped a duffel bag onto the floor.

He was alone. No Bobby and no John and for some reason that scared Sam more than the sight of three hunters ever did.

"It's just you and me today," Gordon said, as though picking up on Sam's thoughts. "Winchester's given up on you. You and the other one. He knows we ain't gonna get a thing out of you. You're not gonna squeal no matter what we do. So today, I get to play executioner. You're all mine now."

Sam wanted to respond. Something snarky like 'Bite me' would have been very fitting but he's so tired, and his throat was so dry that he's pretty sure any attempt to talk would just result in an unintelligible croak.

Gordon unzipped the bag and rummaged through it briefly before taking out a mean looking knife and a glass jar full of some sort of dark red liquid.

"Know what this is?" He asked, swirling the contents of the jar around. "I think you do."

Sam did, of course. He had learned enough about hunters and their methods by now to know that what was in that jar was dead man's blood. He was actually surprised they hadn't used it before now.

Gordon uncapped the jar and dipped his knife into it, making sure the blade is given a good coating before pulling it back out.

He made his way over to Sam and smirked. "This may sting a bit."

Sam braced himself but nothing, not one single part of his daily torture sessions could have prepared him for the pain he felt when the knife carved into his chest.

It felt like fire, like ice, like acid eating away at his skin and the muscle underneath. And with every slice, this acid, this poison spread until Sam felt as though he was being consumed.

For a time, Sam lost himself in the pain and he could not say how long it took to claw his way back to awareness. All he knew was that when he did, his whole body felt strangely heavy and his throat was so raw,he knew he must have been screaming.

Gordon was still stood over him, smug smile still plastered to his face as he watched his captive.

"Back with us?" he asked.

Sam just groaned in response.

"Good. I'd hate for you to miss this next part." He circled Sam, coming to a stop right behind him. "I've always been curious. Dead man's blood. It's practically poison for your kind, right?"

Even his dazed state, Sam didn't like where this was heading.

"And I know what it does to you when it mixes with your blood, if we cut you or inject you…but what does it do if it's ingested?"

Sam was ready when Gordon yanked back his head and pushed the jar to his lips. The cold, slimy liquid trickled harmlessly down his chin at first, unable to get past Sam's sealed lips as he thrashed uselessly in his chair.

There was a reason Vampires didn't drink dead man's blood. It wasn't practically poison. It was poison. If a vampire drank enough of it, and it only had to be a couple of mouthfuls, he would die and though Sam was only a half-blood, he didn't really fancy taking the risk.

It wasn't his choice in the end though as Gordon grabbed his chin and pried his jaw open whilst pressing the rim of the tipped jar against parting lips until the liquid was flowing freely into his mouth. He let it pool there, refusing to swallow but then Gordon pinched his nose, threw the almost empty jar to the floor and forced Sam's mouth closed once more.

It didn't take long after that. The need for oxygen was greater than his fear of the liquid and without conscious thought, he swallowed it down, gagging at the rotting taste. Gordon let go of his head immediately and Sam heaved in a breath of stale, rancid air.

His stomach gurgled ominously for a few moments and Gordon backed away, watching with morbid curiosity.

Then the cramping started. It was mild at first but escalated quickly into gut-wrenching stabs of sharp pain that made him want curl up and die. He tried to scream but his voice was gone and nothing but a wheeze of air managed to make it past his abused throat.

Then, abruptly, the pain was gone and a feeling of ice filled his stomach, rising quickly up his gullet and before Sam could acknowledge what was about to happen, he was throwing up.

Blood and bile burst from his mouth and without even the strength to turn his head, most of the mess ended up down his front and on his lap, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Gordon choked on a laugh from where he stood in the corner. "Well that was a little anti-climactic…and gross." He chortled as he picked up his knife again. "But I think we're done now. You're beginning to bore me. Bye Sammy."

Sam watched as the blade was raised and he felt the cold grasp of death clutch his heart.

He closed his eyes.

"WAIT!" a voice roared out from down the corridor and Sam's eyes popped back open. He knew that voice. "Gordon, Stop!"

Gordon did, but he didn't look happy about it.

"Dean," he ground out through gritted teeth. "I hope you have a good reason for interrupting me."

Dean came to halt in front of the cell. From the redness of his face and the way he was panting, Sam figured he must have been running pretty hard. Other than the odd colouring and his still bandaged arm, he looked pretty healthy. He was up and about at least.

"Change of plans." Dean said. "My Dad wants him alive. The other one too."

With a pained grimace, Gordon lowered the bloody knife. "Can I ask why? Barely an hour ago, he wanted them dead."

"Our guests just arrived and they wish to negotiate an allegiance but they want our prisoners kept alive for now."

"That's ridiculous!" Gordon snarled, turning to face Dean. "Why would they want these monsters alive?"

Dean shrugged. "Not a clue. Why don't you ask them?"

With a growl of frustration, Gordon stormed past Dean and out of sight.

The younger hunter watched him leave and then slowly turned to face Sam, his face transforming from a look of indifference to one of horror.

"What have they done to you?"

Sam looked away from those too-green eyes, hating the concern he saw in them. He didn't want or need that from a human.

He was well aware of what he must look like, sat tied to a chair, covered in blood and filth but he didn't want to talk about it. Or be stared at like some kind of caged animal for that matter.

Dean shuffled closer. "Sam?"

Sam glared at him. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so angry at the guy. He'd just saved him after all. For the time being at least.

He should have felt relieved, maybe a little grateful but nope; Sam was livid.

Dean flinched a little at the intensity of the vampire's gaze. "Are you oka – no, stupid question. Obviously you're not okay."

Obviously. Sam would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't trying so damn hard to look as intimidating as someone can when they're all tied up.

Dean strode further into the cell, until he stood right in front of Sam and crouched a little to look at him properly. "Look Sam, I didn't just come down here to give Gordon his new orders, I also came to warn you."

Sam's frown faltered and Dean took that as permission to go on. "The guests I mentioned. The ones that want to be our allies? They're…they're werewolves."

Sam choked a little. Werewolves? Really? He knew of their existence. of course. But he'd never actually met one. Never wanted to either. He'd been told that a single bite from one could end him for good.

Then again, he'd also been told that werewolves stuck to their own kind. Yet here they were, looking to ally themselves with a group of humans. Of hunters!

"Yeah, I know." Dean said. "I was shocked too when I was told but Dad seems to really want this. This wolf faction…it's led by the Novaks."

Sam had heard of the Novaks as well. They were practically royalty in the Were community. They were Alphas, every member of the family, and the pack they led was one of the biggest and most influential in the country.

"Apparently, the Novaks have some bad blood with Vamps. I mean, most do anyway but these guys especially. The moment they heard you and your friend were here…I don't know man, one of the princes just flipped. Wolfed out and tore up the meeting room. And the other one just got this look in his eye and told my Dad that if negotiations were going to go any further then you and that other Vamp had to be kept alive."

Sam was still waiting for the warning part of this conversation. The look he gave Dean must have said as much because the hunter sucked in a breath and finished. "Look, I don't know what they want with you exactly. I flew out of there to stop Gordon before I could hear the rest but i'll bet it's not so they can shower you in hugs and kisses."

"No," a new voice said. One that Sam had never heard before. "Hugs and kisses aren't really our style."

A man sauntered into view, flagged by a very nervous looking Bobby and Garth.

The man was fairly short with golden brown hair, glittering eyes and a sarcastic smile. "You must be one of the prisoners I've been hearing all about." He said. "Pleasure to make you acquaintance. My name is Gabriel, Second Prince of the Novak Pack."

Author's Note - So an anonymous review was left after the last chapter, asking when Cas was going to appear. The asnwer is soon! I promise you. I admit it's taken a lot longer than it was supposed to. Originally he was supposed to come about in chapter 6 or 7 but the storline just kept lengthening so yeah...