Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: Okay folks, the ride gets a little graphic here. This chap is dedicated to The Lady Loves the Dark whom simply asked for an update. For the reviewers who only left comments along the lines of "stop procrastinating" and that "real life" shouldn't interrupt a story, I sincerely hope you never develop cancer and come out of remission, because fanfiction was the last thing on my mind. With that said, I'll climb off my soap box and hope you enjoy.

Sam had spent the drive thinking about all of the things he planned to do with his new toy. He was trying to decide whether to start with torture or sex, or maybe just mix it all up and go with his impulses. A small sound from the backseat drew his attention. He raised hazel eyes to the mirror and was greeted with fever-brightened green. A smirk spread across his face, loving the fear and weakness his brother was displaying. "Hey, Dean, ready to play some more?"

Dean began to struggle against his bindings, terrified of what this Sam's idea of play was. He didn't want the monster anywhere near him. He was positive that the thing wearing his beloved little brother's face was not Sammy; he would never have hurt him like this. The Impala slowed, pulling over to a gravel path. Sam got out of the car, humming a jaunty tune. He opened the back door and leaned in with a smile. "Time for another quick nap," he laughed, jamming a needle into his brother's thigh. Sam's manic grin was the last thing Dean saw as his body went limp.

SPN * SPN * SPN * SPN

Dean slowly came back to awareness. He wasn't sure where he was or how he'd gotten there, only that he felt exhausted and afraid. He became aware that was lying down and that he was cold. His attempt to sit up was halted by his bound hands. He looked over his head to see a pipe protruding from the wall, and his hands were tied to it. The ground beneath him was hard-packed dirt and the only light he could see was from a tiny window up near the ceiling of the room. Basement.

He had brief flashes of telling Bobby that he was done with Sam, of feeling somewhat at ease with the older man and the nurse. But that was in the hospital. More recent memories surged forward, reminding him of being alone with Sam, tied up in the back of the Impala. Panic began to flare, forcing his breaths to come faster and shallower. Dean struggled to orient himself to his surroundings and his own body. He could not afford for Sam to catch him off-guard.

SPN * SPN * SPN * SPN

Bobby and Cheri had both been calling contacts and driving through the town looking for any sign of the boys. Bobby had gotten in touch with hunters and police alike, not caring who found his boy; only that he was found alive. He knew that Sam was no longer himself.

Cheri drove her SUV up and down the roads of the town, then turned and headed for the outskirts of town. She began to laugh. She received a shocked look from Bobby, which quickly morphed into fury. "What the hell are you suddenly finding funny about this?" he snapped at her.

The nurse shook her head, reigning in her hysterics. "I just realized that I've never jumped in my car to hunt down is missing patient before. I'm blaming all irrationality on you." The hunter simply started at her until his phone rang, dragging his attention back to the task of finding Sam and Dean.

SPN * SPN * SPN * SPN

Silence was settling back into the darkness. Sam had disappeared back up the stairs while Dean lay in a sobbing heap on the dirt floor. His mind was overloaded with pain and fear, trying to sort through what he had just experienced. To try and comprehend what his brother had just done to him over the past few hours. Calm down his mind urged. He needed to assess the damage quickly so he could start to pull together some sort of plan. Unless you want to wait for Sam to kill you. Dean whimpered at that thought and began to go through a mental checklist of his injures.

Sam had been serious about the torture. He'd started by ripping out each of Dean's fingernails, and the broke each finger one joint at a time. He knew his right wrist was broken. His right shoulder was dislocated and his left clavicle was broken from Sam kneeling on them. Dean's mind skittered away from that particular memory, only touching it enough to catalog the increased damage to his throat and mouth from the attack.

Sam had dug fingers into his already crushed throat so that when Dean opened his mouth to scream, the brunette had forced his leaking erection in and rammed it down his brother's throat. Tears began to spill down Dean's checks and he forced the images away. He couldn't stop berating himself for not even noticing Sam's lack of clothes as he'd straddled him.

He could hear Sam's cold laughter ringing through the room as he'd moved down towards the blonde's bare feet. He'd proceeded to tear away each toenail and then break the toe, as well as several bones in each foot. Dean had never felt anything so excruciating. A knife had appeared in Sam's large hand and with a gleaming smile, the knife slid beneath each of Dean's kneecaps.

He couldn't even begin to imagine the abuse his body had endured; he was so consumed by the pain and betrayal. Sam had slashed the bottoms of his feet, and sliced several shallow lines across his face and neck. Then had come the worse part; at least it was in Dean's mind.

Sam had choked him. He'd pressed down on Dean's mangled windpipe and rode the writhing and thrashing body beneath him. Sam had laughed at the broken and bloody hands scrabbling at his arms and face. He stared down into green eyes until they lost focus and the bruised mouth stopped gasping, the body stilling underneath him. Then he'd released the blonde and waited for his breathing to return to some semblance of normal and Dean's wide eyes were staring back at him in absolute terror. Then Sam started all over again. Dean wasn't sure how many times the monster had done that.

The rape that followed was hazy, with Dean only registering the pain of his entrance tearing and his left hip being pushed out of its socket. His mind had been filled with this isn't Sammy. Seeing that his toy was no longer responsive, Sam went back upstairs, leaving Dean in his current predicament.

The blonde realized that his mobility was limited, although Sam had left his hands and feet free. His eyes caught onto two dark lumps off to his side; Sam's bag and jacket. He must've thought I wouldn't try to get to them. Unfortunately for Sam, Dean was petrified and the adrenaline fueled him to crawl and drag himself towards the bag. He prayed that the brunette had been careless enough to have left his cell in the jacket pocket, and that he could find something to use as a weapon.

SPN * SPN * SPN * SPN

Bobby was startled to see Sam's name flashing on his screen. Throwing a look to Cheri, he put the call on speaker and answered, "Yeah?" Static crackled down the line. "Bobby?" No matter how faint or destroyed to voice was recognition surged immediately thought the older hunter. "Dean! Where are you, son?" Silence was the answer. "I don't know," was finally whimpered into the phone.

After a few seconds, the blonde's voice became a little steadier. "I turned the GPS on in his phone." Bobby winced; he hated hearing Dean speak about Sam as if he was an unknown assailant. Hell, I suppose he is. "Okay, that's good, Dean. I can track you that way. You did real good."

He heard a shaky breath on the other end, and what sounded like crying. "Tell me about where you are, boy," he wanted to keep the younger hunter talking; talking meant he was alive. The crying increased and Bobby felt panic clench at his heart.

Cheri pulled to the side of the road while Bobby worked to track the GPS on Sam's phone. "Dean, tell me about where you are." The crying grew more hysterical. "I don't know!" he sobbed. "It's okay, it's gonna be okay, Dean.' Bobby soothed. "No, it won't be!" Dean cried. "I shot him; I shot Sam!"

TBC