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I once dreamed I had my very own Sam and Dean … I refused to wake up for three days!!

I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one! It means the world!

Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!!!!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

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"Unca Bobby?"

Bobby sighed and glanced to the precocious seven year old he had been talked into watching. Bobby had known the boys since Sammy was about one, but that didn't mean he'd ever really been up close and personal with them … until now.

"Yeah Sam?"

Sam liked that Bobby talked to him like a grown-up, and that he called him 'Sam'. So he grinned a toothy grin at the man that would later shoot buck shot at his father.

"I dun think yer mean."

"Huh?"

Sam gave another toothy grin and just looked at Bobby with those puppy dog eyes.

"Well, you act-ed all mean an stuff to daddy, but I dun think yer mean at all."

Bobby gave him a look that said he was as crazy as his old man when Sam leaned over to whisper.

"It's a cause you teach-ed me how to fights demons!"

"I did? How'd I do that?"

"Like this … GRRRR!"

And Sam gave his best 'Mean Bobby' impersonation, making the man who seemed as grumpy as a she-bear laugh.

And Bobby fell victim to the charm that was Sam Winchester.

Bobby's old beat up truck rumbled to life only 45 minutes after first speaking to Dean. A ragged old leather bag that had seen better days 20 years ago was tossed onto the seat just before the elder hunter climbed into the seat.

Throwing the truck into reverse, gravel spun under his tires as the truck lurched backward for a moment, then another quick jerk of Bobby's hand and the truck spun out onto the road like a demon was on its tail.

It was far worse than that.

Bobby had known John Winchester for 22 years. He'd met him not long after Mary's death. He was the one who taught him most of what he knew about demons. And, in the midst of all the training and demon talk, Bobby got to know Dean and Sam Winchester.

Dean had become a comrade, someone who watched your back and you watched his. Bobby always knew there was something about Dean that was hidden beneath the layers of cocky attitude and downright sarcastic snarkiness that Dean often showed the world. There were places that boy kept so hidden he didn't even think Dean knew about them anymore.

Oh but Sam did, of that Bobby was quite certain.

Sam Winchester was another matter entirely. He'd been a shy, but precocious child, always questioning, always seeking answers to his never-ending "Why?" Sometimes it drove all sane people within a hundred miles to cackle like stark raving lunatics. But more often than not, Sam brought about a smile.

And it was for Sam that Bobby was currently driving across the country going at speeds faster than his truck should have been able to go.

Reaching for the phone, he dialed quickly then brought it to his ear.

"Hey Gary, it's Bobby."

"Yeah, I uh … I need you to do me a favor?"

"Well, because besides Sam Winchester, you're the best researcher I know!"

"Well, I can't get Sam Winchester you idiot, it's him I'm trying to find!"

Bobby kept one eye on the road and the other attuned to the conversation as he filled in another hunter in the small circle of friends that John Winchester has accumulated over the years. All were loyal, and all were being contacted in their search for Sam.

No stone was going to be left unturned. They were going to find him. And kill whoever the hell dared hurt him.

"Oh, and Gary … keep a kind of low profile on this. I don't want any unnecessary attention if you know what I mean."

As he hung up, his foot pressed down harder on the gas. Tennessee seemed too far … too damn far.

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Dean was intently leaning over Sam's laptop, the thought that Sam was lacking in this research made him want to throw the computer across the room, but while it would have relieved some stress, it would also have meant that Dean would have had to venture into the library. The thought alone made him shudder.

Without his geekboy sidekick, Dean was at a loss in some respect. While he was no stranger to research, it was Sam that questioned everything from every angle, not to mention that he was a wealth of weird information.

His first order of business had been to Google the area for anything out of the ordinary. And while nothing seemed odd, even in their sense of the word, he did take notes of just about anything and everything. From the closed hospital on the outskirts of town to the mansion belonging to the Hornwell family. Apparently the hospital was closed due to a scandal, and the Hornwells were an influential family at one time, but apparently went into bankruptcy due to Martin Hornwell's bad investments. The house stood empty since the family vacated, for some reason no buyers would touch it. And the hospital, well, apparently it was purchased recently, though the article didn't list the name of the buyer, just some business that Dean didn't recognize offhand. Both he was going to delve a little deeper into.

His second order of business had been to map quest the area, searching for any back roads or other places in which a person could easily conceal themselves if they wanted.

It had been a grueling three days. Three days in which Dean hadn't slept except to cat nap at the computer, and that was usually when exhaustion took over. It was also three days that Dean barely ate. When he did he wondered if Sam was hungry, if he was hurt. But most of all, he wondered just who had taken his brother … and why.

"Damn it Sammy, where are you?"

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When Sam awoke next, it was with a little less pain than the last time consciousness had brought him around to the land of the living. His ribs still ached, his chest still hurt to breathe … but at least he was still breathing.

Lifting his head from the bed of nothing more than a few blankets, he came to the conclusion he had been visited while sleeping. Beside where he slept was a tray containing a plate of food and a cup of water. Both items, to his dismay, were made of plastic, so there would be no using them as weapons.

Leaning over, he sniffed the food to discern if it was poisoned, though Sam doubted it was. If they wanted to kill him, they would have done so already. Not that beating the shit out of him was what he considered a vacation, but at least he was alive. And that meant Dean was looking for him.

The thought of his brother had mixed feelings. He was all he could think about … but Sam also wondered if he was indeed all right in all of this. Had the mad man hurt him? Sam pushed the thought away because he couldn't dwell on it, not now, not ever. While John Winchester had been Dean's hero, Dean was Sam's, and in Sam's mind, Dean was infallible.

Rising slowly, Sam once again took in the room. It was about the size of a hospital room sans the beds and equipment, even including a bathroom. The lights above cast that fluorescent hue that Sam so hated and had seen too much of, and despite the lack of beeping from machinery that defined a person's life force, it had that smell. The smell of something so sterile it was enough to make you want to streak through it in the mud, just to taint the cleanness.

With slow but even steps, Sam made his way to the bathroom. Not surprised that the mirror was taken down, he leaned over the sink and turned it on. The cold water he splashed on his face eased a bit of the pain though did nothing to ebb the uselessness he was beginning to feel.

With his hands, he slowly washed away the dried blood from his face, and then raked his fingers through his hair as a heavy breath was expelled from his lungs. Turning his head, he eyed the toilet … and slowly a grin formed along with a plan.

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Patience was the key to Sam's plan, and finally it paid off as the key turned in the lock once more. He waited, his breath held, his heart racing. The door swung open, and the doctor entered, his eyes scanning the room, though he hung back. It was one of the guards that took steps into the seemingly empty room. Without so much as a sound, Sam swung the back of the toilet with a force that would have made his father and Dean both proud. There was a sickening thud as ribs broke on impact, the ceramic weapon cracking to split into two pieces.

As another guard rushed into the room, Sam used the weapon like a sword, and struck with a thrust of his only weapon … his only hope. Blood spilled from the fatal wound he inflicted, but the youngest Winchester didn't pause, didn't look back, he just shoved his way out of the door … freedom his motivation.

Not looking which way to go, he bolted; the taste of freedom, the thought of finding Dean his driving force, the edge that took the pain away, at least momentarily.

The deafening sound that filled the air, echoing down the empty hallway and ricocheting as if in stereo was ignored for two steps. Two steps in which Sam could nearly taste the wind on his face, feel the sunshine that awaited him.

And then he cried out before collapsing onto the cold, hard floor.

The pain was excruciating as blood blossomed on the leg of his jeans, his hand pressed to his thigh to try and staunch the blood that was staining blue denim to an ugly shade of crimson.

"Uh … God …"

He swallowed, the information not fully processing in his fogged brain. Not even as the doctor came to stand above him, his look one of amusement.

"You sick bastard…"

It was choked out despite the pain he was in. That Winchester stubbornness making him refuse to give in. He would die before this man stole the one thing Sam was holding desperately onto … his pride.

The glare he sent the doctor only made him laugh as he motioned to Allen, the man that seemed to be up the doctor's ass at all times. Sam barely had a chance to struggle before Allen hoisted him from the floor and all but dragged him back into the room he'd run from, the doctor following behind with a malicious grin.

It was only minutes later that Sam's screams echoed throughout the once hospital as the doctor took great pleasure in removing the bullet without so much as an aspirin to ebb the pain.

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Ok, so I have family coming in for Easter, so I probably won't have another update until Monday or Tuesday. I will try and sneak on the computer to write, but you know how in-laws are … they are more bothersome than the Benders!! Grins Anyway, hope you are enjoying the story so far. If so, PLEASE review, I love hearing from you all!

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