A/N- Alright! I'm actually pretty excited about this chapter, because I just do. I thought my powers of description were on point, but maybe it's just me. Anyway, thanks to AlaskaForever for reviewing, and to all you guys staying silent out there- speak up! We're finally getting to some of my favorite chapters.

Chapter 9

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Slowly, like embers on a fire coming to life, Dean's consciousness sparked and sputtered, reaching for something to help him hold on to whatever he could of this waking world. Darkness threatened to pull him back under velvety, obsidian waves, but he fought. He didn't have anything to grab onto, but nevertheless he strained against the looming dark.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

As fire of his waking brain caught and started dancing inside his awareness, the dark fold he found himself wedged into slowly dissipated. Like small rivulets of water returning to a stream, his senses slowly came back to him, forming a picture to replace his floating blackness that previously surrounded him. At first the sensory detail was overwhelming. After being tucked away inside himself for an indeterminate amount of time, it was almost like his synapses in his brain and his body were on being scorched and overloaded.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Dean took a rattling breath and tried to compartmentalize everything being thrown at him. Fuck. Think Dean. You're a hunter, you're in an unknown place. What do you do? You figure out what happened, and where you are. Even now, memories were flooding him, all vying for his attention like overeager first graders. The pictures came to him, playing like a silent movie. He was gasping for air after a bad dream as Sam rushed to his side. He was arguing at the front door with Bobby and Sam in front of him. He was sneaking out to the Impala in the dead of night, and rolling down a neighborhood street flooded by moonlight. He was taking a step toward a mass of blonde hair strewn on the floor. And then… nothing. The silent film broke off.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He had been searching for Sara…and had apparently found her. But obviously someone had gotten the better of him back at that house. Almost as if the feeling was being summoned, Dean could feel a throbbing radiated from the back of his skull. He was almost certain he could feel a trickle of blood slide down and wrap around his ear. Taking stock of the rest of his body, he could determine he was laying horizontal on a dusty floor. Dust stuck to the left side of his face, and behind him a cold cement wall supported his back. Wiggling his hands and feet, he felt dread start to sink in as he felt the duct tape wrapped tightly around his hands and around his ankles. A gag pressed against his tongue, rendering speech useless. All in all, this was looking to be a pretty dire situation already.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Sigh.

Cold fingers grabbed Dean's heart and clenched tight as he heard someone let out a small, yet exasperated sigh. Clearly one of impatience, but he couldn't tell if it was a boy, girl, or…other. Dean struggled against the fuzzy feeling in the back of his mind and over his limbs as he tried to wedge an eyelid open. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he finally wrangled some control and opened his green eye as wide as he could.

Dusty, dim light came down on the room from a single hanging light bulb, which hung surprisingly still. Obviously the room was some sort of cellar, based on the chill in the air and the lack of windows on the gray slab cement walls. As Dean's eyes flickered everywhere, they landed on a prone figure slumped against the wall opposite him. Dean had found Sara.

Dean's heart sped up almost imperceptibly, but almost stopped when her condition became clear. Her lengthy blonde hair splayed around her face and mixed with the brown dirt under her face. Her hands were obviously tied her back, and duct tape was wrapped around her ankles over her jeans and covered her mouth.

Glancing at her face, Dean was surprised to see her eyes, large and wide and blue even from across the room, on him. She wasn't blinking, but was staring at him with an intensity that could light bonfires. Relief surged through him as he realized he was glad she was awake. Seeing her slumped and unconscious, even in his dream, was unsettling. Now at least he knew that she was awake and alert. More importantly, he thought, she was alive.

Alive and agitated apparently. She made long eye contact with him, and then flicked her eyes to the side of the room near Dean's head and back. Several times she flicked back and forth. She's trying to show me something, he realized. Tilting his head, he could make out a dark outline against the flat wall. It was a figure, but he couldn't make out details or specifics. Even as he looked on, the figure shifted and tapped a fingernail against the wall. There's the tapping sound! And obviously the impatient sigher.

To Dean's surprise, the figure shoved away from the wall and came to stand just in front of him and Sara with sure, confident steps. As the golden light washed over him, his features became clear. He had darker skin and curly black hair, contrasting painfully with a bright blue polo and cargo pants. His dark, searching eyes flickered between Sara and Dean while a feral smile seemed to grace his face.

"Ah, I see you've both awoken. So nice to see you join the land of the living, Dean. I was beginning to think we might have to start without you. And that would be such a shame." The kids voice indicated he couldn't have been older than eighteen, and Dean felt a snarl press against the gag as the silky smooth threats left this child's mouth. It wasn't right. Dean fidgeted against his bonds but found they were firm and immovable. Fuck.

"Nothing to say? Ah, that's alright. I prefer it this way, really. Neither of you have anything of import for me anyway. I don't wish to speak to you. That will come later." The kid retreated out of Dean's sight and reappeared a moment later with a wooden bat in his hand. He chuckled as Sara's eyes widened. "Don't worry. I won't start out with that."

He slowly ambled over to where Dean was struggling with the duct tape. Crouching and still looming over Dean, he tilted his head. Dean was reminded of a cat watching its prey before it struck, eyes focused and evil and dedicated to his prey. He almost expected him to lick his lips.

Without warning, the man's fist struck Dean on his right cheek. Dean groaned through the gag as the punch almost seemed to go through him, striking straight to the bone. The pain that followed was white hot and blinding. That was no ordinary punch – that was a demon punch. Dean had been in enough bar brawls and battles against demons to know when there was a little too much strength behind a fist, and he was sure now that this scrawny kid couldn't have thrown that much force behind him unless he was packing on the demon juice. Just great.

The demon stood over him smirking, and then quickly got in two kicks to Dean's ribs and then stomach. He grunted, and curled in on himself as he heard and simultaneously felt a rib detach in a flash of pain. He had no clue what the blow to his abdomen did, but whatever it was couldn't be good. He had no way of defending himself, no way of striking back or gaining the upper hand in any way.

The demon walked away, and through Dean's pain he could make out the figure walking towards Sara, the bat whistling in a neat circle in his hands. Dean's eyes widened as he watched in horror – the monster struck the side of her head once, and the crack split the air of the basement. As Sara's head hit the floor, all Dean could think was No, no, no, NO! Take me instead, don't hurt her, please… His scream through the gag was muffled and pathetic. The demon smirked at him, and proceeded to bash her arm, leg, and hip once with the bat. Sara no longer peered alertly around the darkened room; her head lolled against the floor and blood dribbled from her awkwardly angled arm. Dean's throat threatened to tighten with the fear that was choking him as pain ignited his nerves and licked like flames down his body. The pain was intense, but he knew the fear wasn't for him.

"Don't think I've forgotten about you, Deano. This bat wants to make your acquaintance too," the demon called out as he turned from Sara's lax body and headed back towards Dean. Good. Focus on me, come to me, hurt me. Ignore Sara. The demon stopped in front of him, bat against the sandy floor. "Where first Dean?"

He started to rest the bat on Dean's ankle. "What about here? Sensitive spot for sure – lots of little bones to break." The bat settled on his kneecap. "Or here. You'd never walk or run the same again." On his groin. "Now that would be cruel and unusual punishment. I'm a demon, but that's almost too much for me even." A cruel smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and Dean got a glimpse of his unnaturally white teeth. "I could even give you and your girlfriend matching injuries. How romantic. How about this – you just say the word, and I'll stop." He put a hand behind his ear, mocking Dean as he tried and failed to get a word around the gag. The smile widened, and Dean could feel the sweet rage course through his system. You fucker. "No? Alright, I did warn you."

Quickly the bat was on him, almost invisible as it struck with a passion at his ankle, arm, shoulder, thigh, hip, and stomach. It was all Dean could do to stay conscious as the blows rained down on him, striking quickly but with a force that Dean knew would bruise if not break bones. Volcanoes of pain were erupting all around him as the bat swirled and danced its deadly dance all over Dean's skin and bones. The metallic taste of blood appeared in his mouth, and it was all Dean could do not to choke on the taste of iron. Everything was swirling around him, blurry and out of focus, and dimly Dean was aware of the bat stopping on its quest to break him.

"Alec, honey, that's enough." A soft, silky voice slipped through the air, seeming to glide through Dean's consciousness and invading his senses. Dean was vaguely aware of Tristan's steps wandered away from her, toward the feminine voice.

Alec's next words were simpering. "Of course my lady. I was just warming them up for you."

A heavy thud echoed as something was dropped on the floor. Dean felt the vibrations. "Another one, my lady," Alec asked.

"I can't seem to reach my fill," whispered another voice. This was another, different woman from the first. While the first woman's voice was alluring and smooth, this girl's voice was scratchy and high, like fingers on a chalkboard. The words were barely a whisper, but somehow they carried. As she spoke, a gaping hole seemed to open up inside Dean, threatening to swallow him whole as terror wrecked him from the inside out.

"Quite right. We'll keep going until you're satisfied, sister dear," replied the feminine one, her voice now much closer to Dean than last time.

A cool finger gripped under Dean's chin and rolled his face upward. A view of yellow sclera and vibrant red irises consumed Dean's vision as his captors face swam in his vision. "Why hello, Dean. How nice to finally meet you."

TBC- Mmm-hmmm. Dean's finally found Sara, albeit not in the greatest condition, but he's found her. He's also found the woman who confronted Sara. Who's the demon? Who are the other two? What's to happen next? *evil laugh* we shall see... Please read and review (and follow and favorite if you really want to)