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I snuck into a prison just to try and get my hands on Sam and Dean … but all I found was some fat man that kept tossing the soap on the ground in front of me. HELP!

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.

Okay, seems alerts are still down, so thank you to ALL of you wonderful reviewers, it honestly gets me motivated to write! I have tried responding to them via going to my stats, but I don't think anyone got my responses because I'm pretty sure PM's are down too. So … without further ado … THANKS!

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"Hey!"

Both Doctor Murdoch and Sam looked toward the sound. To Sam, the sound was of comfort and safety. "As long as I'm around, nothing bad's gonna happen to you." Of overbearing control. "You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" It was music to his ears, a lightening of his soul. All at once relief washed over him … relief and fear of what was to come.

"Get your filthy hands off my brother!"

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Daniel Murdoch crouched on the ground, jerking a bound, gagged Sam toward him further, the gun he held pressed not to his head, but to his throat.

"Do you think if I fired now, it would kill him … or just make him wish I had finished the job?"

"I swear, if you try and shoot my brother, you'll be dead before you even hit the floor."

"Of that I have no doubt, Dean Winchester, but it won't be an attempt on my part. I will shoot Sam."

Gun poised and ready, Dean moved further into the room that held his brother captive, his gaze on the man holding Sam while his attention was on the youngest Winchester himself.

"You okay there, Sammy?"

He didn't really expect an answer, not in words as his brother was gagged, but Sam and Dean had long since mastered the look. It spoke volumes without saying a single word. They did it when collecting evidence, they did it when questioning witnesses … and they did it now. And something was definitely wrong.

Sam had tried to move his head, but Murdoch jerked him back before he even got an inch to make a nod (that never got to happen) in the direction that Allen had been. Sam wanted so badly to signal Dean that they weren't alone (and just where was Allen anyway?) but all he could do was glance toward where the dangerous man had stood but a few moments ago.

"Oh he's just fine Dean … just … fine."

As Daniel Murdoch spoke, he shifted to press weight against his captive, the pressure bearing on his arm, and subsequently his wrist. It got the desired reaction and Sam clenched his eyes shut as his face contorted in pain.

"Get off him right now or I swear to God I'll … "

The crazy doctor pressed the gun so hard against the side of his throat that Sam had trouble swallowing, even breathing was a challenge.

"One more step Dean, and Sam will meet God far sooner than you think."

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"Sonofabitch!"

Joshua wasn't a man who liked delays; in fact, he probably would have put Dean Winchester to shame in the battle of the most impatient man on earth. Winning only because of one thing … John Winchester was no longer amongst the living.

Slamming his hand against the chained door, he turned to make his way back to the exit, that option being far easier than trying to cut through a chain without any tools. Moving faster than he'd approached, he turned corners and bypassed doors, his path intent on the same window he'd snuck in through.

"Don't move."

The voice wasn't nearly as menacing as the click of the guns safety coming off. It caused Joshua to pause, to furrow his brows as his mind raced and hunter's instincts definitely took over.

"Drop your weapon and turn around slowly."

Joshua lowered to place his gun on the floor, his hands out where the man behind him could see them. Turning as he rose, he caught sight of the man from the corner of his eye. Quickly he assessed, calculated, and made his move in a spin that took the would-be assailant's feet from under him.

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Bobby's fist connected with the man's sternum so fast as he fell that he never even had a chance to catch his breath before it was gone. Even so, there was another crunch as an elbow hit his nose, followed by a blow to the side of the man's head that left him incapacitated.

"Teach you to mess with Bobby on a hunt!"

The older hunter said in a huff of annoyance. Bobby was usually laid back and easy going. Even when a possessed Sam had sputtered and spewed steam from the holy water he'd laced his beer with, he'd remained calm. But, then again, Sam had been right there. Now he wasn't, and that just wasn't okay in Bobby's book.

Reaching down, he felt for a pulse, and was a little irritated that he actually found one.

"Great, now I have to tie you up."

The man honestly deserved a bullet in his head … or worse … one in his stomach to just let him slowly bleed out. But Bobby wasn't a murderer, at least under normal circumstances. What stopped him, however, was not the morality of it all … it was the simple fact that a gunshot would alert whoever else that was out there … whoever had Sam.

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Gary rose from his crouched position to seek something to hold the man in place until he could come back and finish the job. Moving through the Jungle Gym from hell, he came back, with of all things, a doctor's mask and some scrubs to detain his friend.

Smirking, he began work on the man that was, for the most part, unconscious. However, when he began to stir, the barrel of his gun was placed just at his temple, the hunter's tone leaving little doubt as to his intentions.

"Where's Sam?"

With a bloodied grin, the detained man looked up, his look demented at best.

"Dead."

"No he's not you bastard, now tell me where he is or I make a not so pretty hole in your face."

The man seemed to rethink his bravado, his pause causing Gary to press his weapon harder against his head. That spurred him into action.

"Follow the main corridor, you'll find him."

Gary lifted the mask, but before he could gag the man (because he'd given him what he wanted) he spoke again, the words causing his blood to freeze.

"But you'll be too late if Dean's already there."

"What? Why?"

"Because that's when Doctor Murdoch is going to kill him … when Dean's there to watch."

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"Do you honestly think you're going to get out of here alive?"

Dean looked from Sam to the doctor, his focus trying to remain strong as pain etched on his baby brother's face. Murdoch, just to prove a point, pressed his knee further against Sam's twice broken wrist. The reaction was instantaneous; the young man's cry of pain was muffled by the gag, but apparent enough to cause his nemesis to stop in his tracks.

Sam clenched his eyes shut as excruciating pain ripped up his arm, causing a tear to escape and leave a trail down the side of his face to get lost in his hairline. Through his nose he sucked in air, hoping to push the pain away, but the demented man who held him kept a firm press of his knee to Sam's wrist, making detachment impossible.

"Look, you don't need to do this. You want me; you got me, but leave Sam out of this."

"Just like you left Clara out of it?"

Dean arched a brow, but tried to keep his face impassive, tried to keep the game plan firmly in place.

"She was killing people."

"She was fulfilling the plan!"

"She was hurting innocent people. Just like Sam. Sam's innocent in all of this."

Doctor Murdoch looked to Sam for a brief moment before his gaze flickered back to Dean, giving Dean one instant of hope before it was dashed as the man pressed the gun so hard against his brother's throat that he swore he stopped breathing.

"Sam is but a pawn, Dean. He is serving his purpose."

"And what purpose is that? What can this possibly do that is any good?"

"He is showing you, Dean."

"Showing me what?"

Dean's voice was starting to rise as he watched Sam because he wasn't sure if he was breathing or not. The tension in the air was making him sweat, the gravity of the situation making him dizzy. "I gave you an order; you were supposed to watch out for your brother." And he felt like he was failing at the one job that he was truly good at; that of big brother.

"What it's like to watch someone you love die."

Dean's heart stilled, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. When he finally was able to breathe again a few seconds later, the words he forced out were slow, calculated, and in a voice he wasn't sure was his.

"She was already dead."

"That's where you're wrong, Dean Winchester, I gave my Clara eternal life."

If there was ever a moment in which the entire world stopped turning, that was it for Dean. His brows furrowed, his mouth twisted, and he could have sworn that even Sam, despite the pain he was in, caught onto that.

"What …………………………….?"

"I found the secret to eternity, and you and your father came in and took that from her!!"

"You mean … you killed your wife?"

"I gave her everything! It was all for her! Then you … you came in and …"

"You sick son of a bitch! You killed her!"

Doctor Murdoch pressed the gun further against flesh that was now coated in a sheen of sweat, though whether it was from pain, fear, or both wasn't clear.

"No, you killed her, and I'm going to kill him!"

Dean took one step forward, his mouth forming the word that was drowned out as a deafening gunshot echoed throughout the room.

"Nooooooo!"

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