AN: My sincere thanks to all those who have been following my story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!

Special thanks to "Stone120" and "babyreaper" for your lovely reviews. They really make my day.

Without further ado...

Chapter 3

A pained groan escaped Dean's lips as his mind fought to maintain its grasp on consciousness. After a few minutes of struggling he finally managed to locate his eyes and forced them to open. His eyes fluttered as a sharp pain made itself known at the back of his skull.

He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the pain in favour of examining his surroundings and finding out just how he got here. Unfortunately, his brain refused to corporate. It took him a few more minutes before he could get his bearings.

And suddenly, like a rush of water breaking through a dam, the events of the previous night came rushing back at him. His mind jerked into focus. The relief of regaining his mental operation however was short-lived as his surroundings became known to him.

Dean felt his blood freeze to ice as he realised that his arms and legs were bound, his mind immediately recalled the torturous time he had spent in hell; bound on the rack….helpless….broken.

'Sam. Where was Sam?' He looked around frantically, sighing with both relief and defeat as he spotted Sam in the same position as himself. Fear and panic coursed through his veins as he took a deep breath to remain calm.

A soft groan informed him that Sam had regained his hold on consciousness."Sammy, you okay?" Dean asked.

"Dean? What…..where are we? What happened?" Sam finally managed to form coherent sentences.

But before Dean could reply, a chillingly cold voice interrupted them.

"Welcome to my home, Dean."

"Alistair." Dean choked out. The panic trickling trough his body took on apocalyptic proportions. No…..no…..not again. He couldn't go through this again. And Sam….he had to protect Sam. He had to protect him from Alistair.

He was shaken out of his frantic reverie as Alistair approached him with confident, measured steps."I'm so glad that you and Sam could grace my humble abode with your presence. It's not as homey as hell ofcoarse but I did my best. I even acquired the same decorative appliances to make you comfortable too." Alistair picked up a rather small knife, akin to a scalpel, and held it up to the dim light; the sharp edges glinting dangerously.

Dean shuddered involuntarily and tried to avert his attention from the deadly knife. Meanwhile, Sam seemed to have regained some of his faculties and succeeded in voicing out some of his frustrations."Who the hell are you? What do you want with my brother?"

"Tsk…tsk Dean. I can't believe that you haven't recounted your countless exploits for your brother. I'm sure that Sam would appreciate hearing about them." Alistair chuckled in amusement." However that can be easily remedied."

"Don't you dare you….." Dean yelled out but was interrupted yet again.

"Quiet, boy. I have not given you permission to speak. Rest assured that there will be plenty of time for you to make use of your starved vocal chords." Alistair picked up his knife again, and in that moment Dean knew that all was lost.

Sam woke up to an intense headache and an intense wave of nausea that he fought to suppress. He sifted through his hazy mind and tried to determine what had happened before his last conscious thought."Sammy? You okay?" he heard his brother's voice call out to him. Finally he regained enough control to crack open his eyes and felt relieved to locate his brother nearby. It didn't take long, however, before the relief transformed into apprehension.

"Dean….What? Where are we? What happened?" Sam finally succeeded in asking, his voice hoarse and rough. But before his brother could offer some semblance of reassurance, a voice, or rather, a demon made himself known.

The cold voice chilled Sam to the bone. He watched in disgusted confusion as the demon, Alistair, welcomed them into the godforsaken dungeon. 'As if we are here by our own choice' he scoffed.

"I'm so glad that you and Sam could grace my humble abode with your presence. It's not as homey as hell ofcoarse but I did my best. I even acquired the same decorative appliances to make you comfortable too." Alistair said conversationally.

Sam felt a wave of anger as Alistair confirmed that his acquaintance with Dean traced back to the time Dean spent in hell. Quite possibly, he was the cause of his brother's torment in hell, the scars of which were still fresh and raw in Dean's broken mind.

."Who the hell are you? What do you want with my brother?" Sam yelled out in rage. In hindsight, aggravating their captor was probably not the smartest idea. Luckily, Alistair seemed not to notice and continued his tirade; each word significantly increasing his anxiety by leaps and bonds.

"Tsk…tsk Dean. I can't believe that you haven't recounted your countless exploits for your brother. I'm sure that Sam would appreciate hearing about them. However that can be easily remedied." Alistair replied, amusement colouring his tone.

Apart from the initial resentment, a trickle of curiosity invaded his mind. The time Dean spent in hell was shrouded in mystery that his brother had refused to reveal, even to him. His body involuntarily tensed in anticipation. Immediately though, guilt flooded his consciousness. His elder brother had suffered through unimaginable nightmares in perdition. His brother would tell him everything when is ready. But the temptation to learn about the monsters that haunted his dreams…..

"Don't you dare you….." Dean shouted out. Behind the fury Sam uneasily detected the undercurrent of fear and desperation in Dean's voice. His stomach tightened unpleasantly in anticipation of what was to come next.

Alistair silenced Dean again. "Quiet, boy. I have not given you permission to speak. Rest assured that there will be plenty of time for you to make use of your starved vocal chords." This ominous sentence had Sam quivering in fear and as Alistair picked up a wicked looking knife, Sam screamed out in horror.

Alistair chuckled as he traced the instrument along Dean's sternum, leaving behind a trail of blood in it's wake. His brother winced in pain but otherwise didn't let out a sound. A feeling of utter dread and helplessness overcame Sam, his eyes unable to stray from the crimson liquid. "No. Please". Sam begged.

Alistair continued on, ignoring his pleas, this time eliciting a pained gasp from Dean. "You know Sam, you should be proud of your brother. Never have I seen in my entire lifetime, a human so determined to revolt against the destructive forces of hell; to resist becoming a demon. And he never did transform into one till the end, did he." Alistair sighed.

Then recovering his sick, sadistic humor, he went on. "You cannot imagine the fun we had, especially in the last ten years before his escape."

Sam gasped audibly in confusion. "Ten years?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"You didn't tell him?" Alistair asked gleefully, digging the damned knife deeper into his abdomen, causing Dean to cry out in pain. Sam shivered at sound of his brother in agony, once again pleading the demon to stop.

"Oh! This is just wonderful. Oh, wouldn't Sam just love to hear about this, Dean! You see, Sam, hell and earth exist on different planes, much like earth and heaven. Thus the time flow between them is different as well. The time your brother spent in hell translated to four months on earth. However, that time equalled forty years in hell!"

This piece of news left Sam staggering. Forty years..…forty years in hell..…forty… Sam stared at his brother in horror. He knew that the time spent in hell had been the personification of the worse nightmares imaginable, yet he had no idea it was so bad. No wonder Dean was so heavily scarred. Forty years…

Alistair worked the knife deep into Dean's skin, eliciting a choked cry from his brother. "No…no…please don't….stop hurting him…" Sam could only beg, though already knowing it was in vain. Alistair laughed.

"I admit that the length of Dean's stubborn refusal to give in surprised me. Thirty years…thirty years of uninterrupted pain and torture endured with bravery and dignity…." Alistair's voice took on a dark edge here, "…and I broke him…I finally broke him…I reduced him to a begging, withering mass of flesh…."

Sam listened in fear and alarm, his brain refusing to acknowledge what his ears heard. The stinging moisture in his eyes finally brimmed over and descended down his cheeks. He could scarcely believe the monster in front of him.

As long as he could remember, Dean had been the epitome of strength and endurance. His big brother would barely cry out despite the numerous beatings and injuries he had sustained over the years. But if hell had succeeded in breaking his brother….hell had just become a terrifying place for the younger Winchester.

Alistair's gloating broke his train of thought. "I broke him…and he begged…begged to be spared."Sam's tears flowed with renewed force. He grieved for his brother's plight, for his brother's pain. He cried for the impossible situations they were always stuck with.

He tried to meet Dean's eyes, to somehow convey his love and understanding, but Dean looked away in shame. Meanwhile, Alistair seemed to have grown bored with chatter. Sam watched with growing trepidation as Alistair's eyes took on an almost maniacal sheen as he uttered his next words.

"Now we're going to have some fun."

Dean's blood froze all over again with Alistair's declaration. The wretched memories from hell cruelly supplied him with the understanding of what was to come next. He knew it was only a matter of time before he broke…again. No…no…he had to stay strong. Sam…He had to protect Sam. He couldn't give up. He had to fight…But could he? His mind subconsciously recalled a memory…

"Dean, Dean, Dean" Alistair spoke in a voice akin to a parent gently reprimanding his child."Haven't I told you before that fighting me will only cause you more pain?"

"Argh…" he cried out as Alistair slashed his body in familiar patterns, the agony increasing exponentially with each stroke."Please stop…please…I…I won't…do it again. Please…no more…no more…" A wave of self loathing and disgust consumed him. Oh, if his father could see him right now, weeping like a pathetic baby. Or worse, if Sam could see his invincible big brother so shattered and broken. Shame and self-pity wrung his body and he choked out a sob.

Alistair twisted his butcher knife deep into his gut and an unbearable, intolerable, white-hot agony wreaked his body. The pain dominated his body and soul. He couldn't feel, couldn't think…nothing was real, but the pain.

Hate… anger…self loathing…disgust…pity…shame…humiliation…dignity… all was forgotten. Nothing mattered any more. All that mattered was the pain."No…no…please stop…I won't disobey again….stop…" Agony flared inside him like a forestfire, consuming everything in it's path. He just wanted it to stop. He couldn't take it anymore.

"You know the rules, boy. Disobey my command and you will suffer. You should know better by have no power. You are weak; completely at my mercy. I am your master and you WILL do as I say. Do you understand?"

"Yes"

Alistair knew that he had an intangible power over Dean. Once he broke him, he could command his obedience with just a word, and Dean would follow. Alistair had completely broken him and then rebuilt him from a scratch. He had trained him with an iron fist; moulding Dean into a perfect little soldier, his protégé. And Dean had been unable to fight, to resist.

But all things aside, Dean's compliance had not come easy. Even Alistair acknowledged that. Dean had foughthim every step of the way. After all, it had taken him thirty long years to break him. Dean had been his greatest challenge.

But even after Dean had surrendered, Alistair knew that he had never quite succeeded in completely crushing his rebellious streak. Dean Winchester was his own man and it was not in his nature to bow down to anyone. He knew that if he let him, it was only a matter of time before Dean recovered from his lapse.

Alistair understood that in order to conquer Dean Winchester he had to completely crush his will to fight; destroy his soul so that he can never rise again. And he had been so close…so close.

But then that angel had descended and unleashed his holy wrath on hell and rescued Dean from his clutches. Well, no matter. Dean Winchester was under his power again and no one,not even Sam Winchester could prevent him from claiming what was rightly his.

Dean had never been susceptible to religion. He had lost his faith in God the day his mother's life was claimed by the merciless clutches of the fire that had had devastated his home and family. And yet today he found himself praying to any supreme power that may be listening. He didn't pray to be delivered; he scarcely ever bothered to pray for his own despicable self. No, he prayed that if shreds of mercy and goodness still existed in the world, that his brother be spared from the horrors to come.

In his line of work, Dean had become quite familiar with cruelty and evil and had learnt to accept their existence. Sometimes, after drowning himself in the miserable grasps of alcohol, he even feared that one day all the evil and darkness that he hunted would engulf him too, until he himself became one with the darkness. In those times of insecurities, it had been Sam who had shone brighter than the sun and kept him from losing himself to the darkness. Sam, with his kind, gentle heart and innocent, dimpled smile, who kept him afloat in rough waters. Sam kept him sane. Sam was his only family, his reason to live.

It had been Dean's job to protect Sam ever since his father had placed baby Sammy in his arms and told him to run out from the burning house and not look back. If Dean believed in those things, he might have said that it was his destiny to take care of Sam. And Dean knew that he had failed his purpose in life miserably.

Dean watched with ever increasing fear as Alistair approached him. He had seen that look in his eyes before. It used to overwhelm him with fear before and it executed it's job perfectly now. He clenched his eyes shut and awaited whatever treatment Alistair had to offer. He cried out in pain as he felt the cold knife sink deep under his skin. He didn't dare open his eyes.

He barely registered Sam's scream as his little brother begged Alistair to spare Dean. Dean tried to keep the volume of his own cries down to a minimum but failed dismally as he let out another scream.

As the agony overpowered his body, his mind was almost delirious with pain. The pain clouded his senses and he almost believed that he was back in hell again. He was trapped in the unending darkness helpless against the onslaught of pain that nearly crippled him. He was in hell again and this time there was no light, no escape; only pain.

He was sinking into the dark abyss of oblivion and nothingness. His consciousness desperately clawed at the remnants of reality. But it was no use. He was falling off the edge of his sanity into the depth of chaos. He called out to his brother, hoping that Sam could ground him and prevent him from stumbling.

Sammy…I'm sorry was his last coherent thought before he submitted to the void of oblivion that beckoned him.

This was it. This was how they were going to die. Sam could only weep at the sight of his brother in agony as he watched on helplessly. He wished he could offer some form of comfort to Dean; promise him that he was not alone in death and assure him of his forgiveness for his exploits in hell. He wished that he could atleast thank his brother for everything he had sacrifed in his life for Sam. He wished he could say that he loved him…

But they were going to die and he would never get the chance to convey these thoughts to his brother. He sobbed in grief and cried tears of defeat and helplessness. There would be no savior to rescue them now. This was the end.

And then he was blinded by a blazing white light that erupted in the middle of the room. His eyes hurt from gazing at the bright ball of light. His body finally gave in to the fatigue caused by the physical and mental turmoil of the previous days and he willingly gave in to the exhaustion as a soft, familiar voice lulled him to sleep.

AN: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. God knows there is a small dark corner in my heart that has an affinity for a hurt, injured Dean.

Please do take a second to review. I'd love to know if my readers are enjoying my story or not. Reviews really encourage me to write faster; so more reviews mean faster updates!