AN: Hey! A quick(er) update this time!

Many, many thanks to silenthowler, babyreaper, what you see in the shadows, animegal24, key and candylover665 for your wonderful words of encouragement. I loved reading your reviews!

And onwards...

Chapter 16

Sam shivered and curled into himself, trying to keep out the cold. The prison seemed smaller and more imposing without his big brother to offer him warm reassurances. The bleak walls and foreboding bars surrounding him closed in, entrapping him…suffocating him.

Terrible screams echoed in the distance, carrying tales of atrocities to his wilting ears. The screams of a most beloved brother…

Sam closed his eyes and tried to block everything out; the screams, the pain, the cold…oh the screams…He tried to convince himself that it was all a horrible dream, a figment of his imagination playing tricks on his fragile mind. He tried to assure himself that this was not happening, that his worse nightmares had not come true, that his brother was not being tortured by a sadistic demon…

The youngest Winchester banged the back of his head against the wall, trying to drown the inhuman sounds of torment tearing through the air. He loathed his helplessness, the hopeless circumstances of his life. He wished he could do something…anything…to save his brother…to spare him pain. He would gladly take his brother's place on the rack if he could.

But even the loud screams overwhelming his senses could not drown the voice in his head; the ever-present voice that sounded annoyingly like his own but endeavored to decimate him from within. The voice that was currently accusing him of ruining his big brother.

'It's your fault. It's all your fault. You did this. Dean is suffering for you…because of you. You're useless, worthless…everything Dean has done for you…and you couldn't even save him. Dean, who raised you, nurtured you, protected you, sacrificed his own life for you…and what did you do? You got him killed.'

"No…no…no…" Sam sobbed as his cruel subconsciousness plundered him. Tears burned down his cheeks, prompted by his heart-broken sobs filling the room. Waves of guilt crashed over him mercilessly, engulfing him, crippling him until he was sure that he could not physically move.

His mind turned against him, blaming him, accusing him, reproaching him. It compelled him to regret; to regret having ever been born, to regret being a part of Dean's life, to regret disappointing his big brother.

But the voice inside his head had no comfort to offer him. It continued its relentless assault, drawing tears from his stinging eyes rather than blood from insignificant materialistic wounds.

'It's your fault that Dean made the cross-roads deal. It's your fault that he died. It's your fault that he went to hell. It's your fault that he's hurting again.'

"Oh God, what have I done?" Sam continued to cry tears of guilt, failure and humiliation. "Dean, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

'You should never have been born. You're useless! You're the Devil's vessel! You're worthless. The world would be better off without you. Dean would be better off without you. If you hadn't been born, Dean would still have a mom, Dad would still have his wife and he would never have adopted hunting, Jessica would still be alive and Dean would have lived a normal, happy life: a life without your presence to ruin it. You don't deserve to live. And you definitely don't deserve to have a brother like Dean.'

"No…please…I'm sorry…Dean…I'm so, so sorry…please…Dean, forgive me…please forgive me…"

'You don't deserve forgiveness, you worthless fool. You don't deserve absolution. And Dean will never forgive you after today. He hates you. He hates you for everything he is suffering right now. He'll never forgive you. He hates you.'

"No…no…please no…Dean…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

'He hates you. He'll never forgive you. He hates you. He'll never forgive you. He hates you. He'll never forgive you…'

"NO….NO…NO…STOP…PLEASE STOP…HE'S MY BROTHER…HE LOVES ME…HE WOULD NEVER HATE ME…DEAN WILL FORGIVE ME…HE DOES NOT HATE ME….."

' He hates you. He'll never forgive you. He hates you. He'll never forgive you…'

Sam clamped his hands over his ears, desperate to stop the guilt and the accusations. Tears moistened his bruised cheeks, his loud pleas doing little to overcome Dean's tortured ones. He clawed at his ears, he banged his head against the walls…anything to get away from the voice of his conscience that narrated his inner-most fears. But the persevering voice, fueled by the enormous ocean of his guilt, continued to poison his bleeding heart.

'He hates you. He'll never forgive you. He hates you. He'll never forgive you…'

"NO…STOP…SHUT UP…PLEASE…JUST SHUT UP…NO…"

His throat hoarse from his cried begging finally wore him down and the mental strain eventually dragged him into exhausted unconsciousness. The young, helpless hunter collapsed on the cold, prison floor as the tortured, haunted symphony of screams reverberated through the night.

As Sam regained awareness several hours later, he immediately spotted a vast difference from the time before his unintended collapse. The dismal concerto had ceased, leaving behind a piercing emptiness that he found almost just as disturbing. It was quiet; too quiet.

For one impossible second, he almost thought that he had gone deaf. Before the irrational fear could catch hold of him, however, he vaguely realised that he could clearly hear his own labored breathing.

A terrifying thought occurred to him, a thought so horrible, so excruciating and yet horrifyingly probable. What if…no…it was impossible…it was unacceptable…it couldn't be….but….

He felt sick. His stomach roiled in his body, he tasted bile on his tongue. His breath escaped his lungs and suddenly, even breathing seemed to be a daunting task.

No…Dean couldn't be…dead…he couldn't be…it couldn't…he was alive…Dean was alive…he had to be…Dean wouldn't leave him behind…not again…

But before he could hyperventilate himself into oblivion, he heard the unnaturally loud clanking of the metal door to the prison being opened. His trained body automatically tensed, ready to deflect an oncoming attack. He was suddenly painfully aware that he was weaponless; not even the strength of his brother to watch his back.

But his anticipation was needless as, instead of an attack by demons, a body was thrown through the crack of the door before the gate was slammed shut forcefully.

A pained groan emerged from the fallen body; the most familiar, the most beautiful sound to Sam because in that moment, everything was alright. Because the voice was Dean's and that meant Dean was alive and it was all that he could have asked for.

He hurried to his brother's side, kneeling beside him and helping him lean his back against the wall but not withdrawing the support of his arm.

"Dean?...Dean…hey, you okay?…talk to me, man…" Sam knew that he was rambling and at some point he realised that he was asking stupid questions but he couldn't care less because Dean was alive…he was alive…

Dean let out another groan. "Yeah…sure…I'm just peachy…"

Sam examined his injured brother, mindful of the several bleeding wounds littered over his body. Even the limited lighting of their prison could not obscure the shredded and bloody clothes and the jagged wounds visible over his abused body. The fractured bone in his arm and several broken fingers did not go unnoticed under his keen gaze. Dark, angry bruises were materializing over his face and chest while sharp slices against his back suggested the use of a sharp whip.

The injuries were skillfully placed, Sam acknowledged with a morbid sense of relief, to cause pain but not death. He wasn't sure if that was preferable or not because while his brother had endured pain for a longer duration, atleast he was alive.

Dean had settled into the crook of his elbow and was now drifting into painless unconsciousness. Sam wrapped his arms protectively over his brother, wishing he could attend to his many injuries and offer some scrap of comfort. All he was able to offer were guilt-soaked apologies.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry…"

Time passed incredibly slowly, crawling at a snail's pace, with nothing eventful disturbing the temporary and fragile peace. While his brother withdrew into the embrace of obliviousness, Sam faithfully watched over the elder Winchester, determined to somehow protect him from harm; however inconceivable it may seem.

He had failed his brother before, letting those damn demons get the better of him, and abandoning his brother to Alistair's whims. Not again. He would fight to his last breath before he let Alistair lay a finger on Dean again. All things considered though, it was quite likely that things would come down to his dying breath anyway…

Dean shifted slightly in his restless sleep, a soft moan escaping his lips as he aggravated his injuries. Sam tensed, but eventually relaxed when Dean did not wake up from his slumber.

Sam was overcome by an urge to do something…anything to get out of their predicament. Their situation was worse than sitting ducks, as they waited for their inevitable death sentence. He couldn't just sit here and wait to be killed. He couldn't remain idle in the face of death; especially his brother's. It went against his very nature. Winchesters were anything but resigned under life-threatening situations.

But what could he do? Fighting back was not an option; they were severely outnumbered, weaponless and Dean was in no shape to indulge in throwing punches. Escape, while favourable, was hardly pragmatic; they had no idea where they were, they were entirely clueless about the lay-out of their holding facility, not to mention the demon guards and additional surveillance.

They were certainly ineffectual on their own. They needed help. Not for the first time, Sam prayed to their angelic companions for help. Surely they had noticed their absence. At least Bobby must have been worried when they had failed to contact him. Even though Cass and Gabe were off on some divine business of searching for God or something, they must have sensed their distress. Atleast Cass must be aware of their capture.

Then why wasn't there any help? What was taking them so long? Was any help coming at all? Surely they had not been abandoned to their fate.

No…he had to believe that help was coming. He had to hold on, he had to keep fighting, he had to hope for the best. And if Dean was in no condition or disposition to hope, then Sam would keep faith for both of them. He would stay strong for his brother. He refused to lay down and die. He would figure it out…somehow…He got Dean into this mess. This was on his head. If, God forbid, Dean died, his blood would be on his hands.

He had to clean up his mess. He didn't have the slightest inkling as to how…but the Winchesters were always surrounded by hopeless circumstances. But they always figured it out. His Winchester resilience was his greatest weapon now. He would wait…wait for the right opportunity…just the right moment…and he would fight and claw his way out.

He refused to give up. Not when he had so much to fight for, not when Dean's life was on the line. He wouldn't give up till the very last moment and he would be damned if he let Dean give up either. They will fight…till the last possible second, they will fight. They had to.

If they were going to die, they sure as hell would go down fighting. It was the only way they knew to die. They would give it their all.

With the newly found determination steeling his veins, Sam's resolve reinforced itself and bolstered his confidence.

Despite his unexpected optimism, however, a sinister chill attacked his body when he heard loud, obnoxious footsteps approaching their prison. His body tensed with equal parts of fear and anticipation.

Apparently, his brother sensed it too because his eyelids fluttered and a frown graced his face. Dean raised a questioning eyebrow towards Sam and allowed his little brother to help him sit up against the wall.

Sam placed his own self in front of Dean, a silent declaration of offering protection. But Dean's objections did not get time to voice themselves before the door was thrown open and Dean's nemesis appeared in the doorway.

He felt Dean shudder behind him and heard his breathing quicken sporadically. He himself clenched his fingers into a fist and narrowed his eyes. The demon would only get Dean over his dead body.

Alistair only smirked at them, his eyes dancing with amusement. The demon was alone in the doorway. 'Maybe we can fight him off. We do have him outnumbered.' Sam immediately dismissed the silly idea. Alistair's lithe, slender form was surely deceptive and harbored great strength. Besides, Dean could barely run, let alone fight.

The demon appeared to have gleaned his thoughts and he squashed his hopes. Alistair flung them hard against the wall with just a nonchalant gesture of the hand rendering them immobile.

"Do not think that escape is an option for you, boy. It's best you give up hope now."

Dean just groaned in pain at being pitched against the wall while Sam struggled futilely against the invisible restraint.

"I must say, Sam Winchester, that your loyalty and devotion towards your brother are remarkable. But do you value him above your own life?" The demon asked, although already expecting the answer.

"Yes, I do. That's something a demon like you will never understand."

"You are quite right; I don't. So I'll make you a deal. You say yes to Lucifer…

"NO!" Dean immediately bellowed but his shout went unheard.

"…and, in return, I will keep Dean safe from Michael."

"Safe in hell? Really? That's your deal?" Sam snarled in fury. "You can go to hell Alistair. There's no way I'm making a deal with you…"

"Think about it, Sam. What's worse; demons or angels? Demons may cause him physical harm, but angels?...Michael?...once he takes residence in Dean's body, he will obliterate his soul, completely destroy his very essence so that Dean will be no more…And me? I promise to never even string him up on my rack or torture him again…as long as he obeys me and does the torturing himself, of course. It's a better deal than being annihilated by an angel."

"…wh..what?" Sam asked in confusion, glancing first at the demon, and then at his brother. A quiet, deadly silence fell over the room; the quiet before the storm.

"Oh, Dean did not tell you?" Alistair chuckled.

Dean looked away in shame, tears of disgrace streaking down his face. The hunter closed his eyes, unable to witness his world shatter irreparably, forever.

"Well, this is wonderful. I'll leave you two kids alone then. You have much to discuss. And Sam, think about the deal I have offered you. I shall expect a favourable answer soon."

The demon left, banging the door behind him and leaving the brothers alone in the darkness.

"Dean?"

With just a few, simple words, a tempestuous storm was unleashed that changed their relationship forever.

AN: I'd love to hear your comments. Do review!