Supernatural – Broken

Disclaimer: Nothing new, just the usual I love to hurt, torture, kiss and caress the guys before I send em back.

Author's Note: Just a quick warning!! There is swearing and graphic images towards the end of the chapter, you have been warned!!

An Adaptation: from Sade Lyrate's Broken, Chapter 53 of Shards, Shreds, Scraps.

He tried to ignore the burn in his back, and-

don'tthinkaboutthat

His legs wouldn't cooperate, his whole body ached, his cell could have been on the Moon instead of mere feet away.

The afterimage of a supernova flared within his skull as he crawled, the gravel biting into the palm of his left hand. A move, another, the pain aggravated by each pull. Short bursts of breath, his head swimming, the siren song of sleep ever stronger.

The familiar form under his fingers sent a quick praise tumbling through his sluggish mind, past bruised lips.

He flopped against the wall on his side, teeth clenching at the spikes the tiles' roughness drove into his nerves, hand clutching the little device like the straw it was. A deep breath, sea urchins within his lungs, and he flipped open the cell, slick fingers slipping over the speed dial.

"This is Dean Winchester. If this is an emergency-"

No.

He sucked in a breath that felt too much like a sob, waited for the recorded message to play out. Prayed Dean'd pick up the damn phone!
Unmistakable beep, mocking him just like his body, lips unfamiliar as he sought to form words, eyes closing as he concentrated on what he knew, what he needed, what he had to do.

Somewhere along the line, he forgot to open them again.

Time is fleeting...

Sam stirred slowly not wanting to give up the veil of darkness just yet. It hurt too much to allow his mind and body to wake up.

Harsh breathing sounded catching him by surprise, it was his own feeble attempt at drawing oxygen into his lungs. With one shaking arm under him, he gradually lifted his upper body off the floor trying to gauge exactly where he was. The gravel and dirt floor gone, now he lay on wood. Dirty, scuffed, splintered, and stained wood. 'Dean?' the name fell from his lips as naturally as his breath scorching his lungs.

'Nope no Dean here but I am boy.' A familiar voice rang in Sam's ears sending shivers down his spine.

'No, no you're dead.' Sam muttered refusing to look in the direction of that voice.

'Ah you wound me Sammy.'

'Why are you doing this? Why not just kill me and get it over with?'

'Now where is the fun in that?'

Well I'm getting kinda bored just lying around and thought that it might speed things up.'

'Nah got too much to do, and too much time to worry about, you might say Sammy that we have eternity.'

'It's Sam not Sammy.' Sam corrected his father's impersonator. 'You know you don't know my Dad very well do you?' Sam said with a laugh filled with bubbling fluid. Bright dots of red sprayed from his mouth as the laughing turned into choking coughs.

'Oh I know your father very well, he's what you might call a special case for me to work on err I mean with.'

'So what we just gonna sit around and talk me to death?' Sam leaned back against the wall and rested for a moment, closing his eyes, he tried to calm himself down and ignore anyone else around him.

He let his mind wander, to another time, another place ... Halloween night and a party at College, she looked so sexy in her white nurse's uniform, and those stockings, a small smile tugged on his lips as he remembered every detail down to her sexy little pout. Her gentle hands roaming over his body, whispering in his ear. She loved him unconditionally, and freely. 'Jess.' He sighed as he fixed her image in his mind, locking himself away from the world around him; he found a safe niche in his mind, safe and warm.

Dean stumbled back to the impala and sank down in the passenger's seat; leaving his legs out of the car he ran his fingers through his untidy hair and down his face. He felt bone weary, pulling out his phone he stared at it as though it was some sort of alien machinery before he pressed the speed dial praying that Sammy was going to be on the other end of the line.

Hollowly he noticed that he had a missed call from Sam how could he have missed the call? 'Ah Sherry ... was she in on this too? On what Dean get a grip dude you're losing it.' Dean growled at himself aloud, his voice echoing in the night air.

Heaving a sigh Dean slid over to the driver's side and tried to start the car, after two attempts the impala purred to life under him, carefully so he didn't do anymore damage to the baby he manoeuvred the car away from the offending vegetation and pulled back onto the road. Intending on driving back the way he came, in his haste earlier he must have taken the wrong turn off to the motel.

'Turn right and keep driving,' a cold and menacing voice sounded against his ear, 'do anything and baby bro is dead and buried.'

'Where is he? What have you done with Sam?'

'Nothing yet why do you want us to?' the retort came followed by a cuff on the back of his head.

Dean swore and righted the car again, 'Dude do that again and we'll crash.'

'Drive until I tell you stop.' The order came before Dean finished speaking. 'Don't be a hero Winchester.'

Dean glanced at the rear vision mirror trying to make out the face of his uninvited passenger, but all he could see was the outline of an exaggerated smile, 'another clown dude. Fuck Sammy is gonna love this.' He thought to himself with a snarl curling his upper lip. 'So what's ya name? I mean you obviously know mine, aint it just common courtesy to tell the driver your name?'

'Call me Cyril.' The masked intruder snapped back, 'turn into that warehouse to the left.'

'No probs ... so Cyril you from around here?' Dean asked acting like a taxi driver, 'I can take you on a tour of the local hotspots if you like.'

'Shut up and drive will ya.' Cyril snapped, 'time is not on Sam's side you might say.'

'Why the freaking hell didn't you say so in the first place?' Dean snapped back pressing his foot on the accelerator.

When he pulled up and turned the ignition off Dean sat back in his seat and exhaled slowly, he had to get his bearings and keep one step ahead of Cyril at least until he knew the lay of the building and exactly what they have done to Sam.

Before he could leave the car however, Cyril leant over the bench seat and without a word of warning slipped a thick and heavy black hood over Dean's head, encasing him in silent darkness. 'What the fu...?' the question went unfinished his words muffled and unintelligible.

Hands dragged him out of the car and forced him to his knees, this is it, no Sammy, no one just Dean and his executioners.

He felt his arms pulled behind him, elbows straight and muscles taunt as thick ropes knotted his arms together, another rope slid over his head and settled around his neck sealing the hood as well. He could feel his heart thudding against his chest as he waited for the death blow or shot to come.

A sudden jerking sensation startled Dean and he fought the rising bile, pulled upwards his knees locked and refused to straighten out for a few seconds, and then he was able to try to stand unaided until someone yanked on the rope again and he was forced to stumble behind them.

Their laughter at his difficulty in keeping up with the long strides and the stairs fuelled Dean's rage; they were so going to pay for each and every giggle. The worst was their undisguised attempts at treating him like an animal on a lead, the humiliation only serving though to strengthen him not weaken him at all.

Breathing heavily Dean managed to climb to his feet after the last stumble sent him flying face forward, a booted foot on his spine pressed him down for a few minutes, cutting off the last of his meagre oxygen supplies.

Sam watched them torment his brother unmercifully, he wanted to scream out to Dean but they fastened a thick gag over his mouth and made sure that his hands and feet were well secure. Lying on his side, Sam felt weak and sick as they ignored his gunshot wound and instead used Dean's pain to torment Sam to the 'enth degree'.

'Take the hood off.' The one using John Winchester's voice ordered, 'let him have a good look.' Cyril reached down and roughly yanked the hood off Dean's head, leaving the rope cutting into his throat. The sudden brightness momentarily blinded Dean and he shook his head, regretting the action immediately as pain flared up his bruised back. 'Sammy?' he whispered hoarsely as he focused on his younger brother.

Sam stared mutely at Dean's face, trying to gauge the extent of pain he was in, scouring him with his gaze for any signs of life-threatening injuries.

'What have you done to my brother you freak?' Dean yelled as he saw the pain on Sam's face, the rigidness of his body and the pooling red liquid beneath him soaking into the wood.

'Nothing yet, I can do more if you wish.'

'Untie me and make it a fair fight.' Dean said refusing to take his eyes from Sam.

'Now where would the fun in that be?' the possessed creature glided over to Dean and squatted down in front of him, reaching out he brushed an imaginary stray hair from Dean's face, the creature may have worn John's face, but the eyes were dead. 'So son I see that you never carried out my last order did you.'

'Get fucked.' Dean spat at the jeering face, 'you're not my father.'

'Sigh what is a father to do with such disrespectful sons?' It mocked the brothers, 'I try so hard and still you show me no respect.' Standing up it smiled coldly at Dean and then gripping the rope dragged Dean closer to Sam, 'see what happens when I am disrespected.'

Dean watched in horror as the demon grabbed hold of Sam and rolled him until he lay face down, then stripping away the last vestiges of dignity for his young captive he pushed his fingers deep into Sam's body, the original small bullet hole ripped open under the assault. Sam screamed against the gag, his neck arched and head thrown back as the intruding fingers bruised his internal organs, callously probing as far as possible until the nails scraped against bone. Tears fell onto the floor mingling with the fresh dark red blood as Sam slid into the world of the void. Unable to manage to maintain the level of pain and to keep his sanity at the sametime.

TBC