A/N: You guys! You all are so awesome! Thanks for the continued response to this. I'm really glad you're all enjoying it.

Again, warnings for a little bit of Sammy abuse. Dean starts to put things together in this chapter. It might get him closer to his brother.

Chapter 2: Blind, Oh, Now I See

"Alright Ace." Joshua said softly, although he didn't back down from his young friend. Dan stared at him angrily before his eyes shifted downward.

"Sorry Josh. I'm sorry. It's just…that kid, he's my responsibility. Seems like he always has been and the thought of losin' him… the nightmare I just had…it's killin' me."

"Y'don't have to explain nothin' to me, Dean. I went through Storm with guys I thought of as brothers, hell, half o' them young enough they shoulda been thinking' 'bout gettin' their first girls instead of makin' it through the night."

Dean poured a cup of coffee, raking a hand through his spiky hair, before he drank the steaming brew, wishing it was stronger. Joshua poured himself a cup and pulled out the chair beside where Dean stood, putting a hand on his shoulder until he sat. The older hunter sat opposite.

"Tell me 'bout what happened."

"We got wind of a hunt in Shreveport. Voodoo priest goin' postal on the town because they refused to bury his son in hallowed ground because he committed suicide. We were headed that way, gonna kick back after the hunt. Y'know, Mardi Gras, women, booze, some pool, the whole shebang."

"Then what?"

"Like I said, we stopped at a convenience store just outside Greenville. Sammy hit the head while I scored some grub. I went back to the car and waited for him. He was takin' forever so I went to get him. He was nowhere to be found, I left the john and started lookin' for him. Found his cell phone, hell, I stepped on it. Then someone clocked me from behind. Woke up in a shed, had to chop my way out with an axe. Went back inside the store and found the cashier dead. Found sulfur too."

"Okay, what didja notice that was out of the ordinary…from before Sam went missin' until now?" Joshua put the motel notepad and a pen down on the table in front of Dean. "Write it down, put the pieces together."

"Doncha think I've been racking my brain about that already?!"

"Well, do it again!" Dean sat up in his chair, tucking his fingers against his mouth before reaching for the pen, staring at the notepad, his eyes working back and forth as he thought over every moment again, with a new focus.

"Well, the woman at the store…she was odd. Flirty, but odd. She talked like she knew me, about me likin' M&M's. Seemed real interested in whether I was passin' through or stayin' in town." Dean wrote down her name, CS, for convenience store. "She mentioned she'd like it if our paths crossed again." He drew a cross to symbolize the statement.

"Good, what else?"

"The Catalina." He wrote Cat. "She was a '68. Black. Her plates…" Dean scrawled DIE 1983 in big block letters. "The shed, that freakin' axe was just leaning against the wall in plain sight. Thank god."

"And?"

"I came here 'cause it's close." Motel, got scrawled onto the page. "The receptionist, when I checked in, she gave me the key to this room. Said that the bed furthest from the door was most comfortable. Said it hadn't been broken yet." Dean dropped the pen and bolted from his chair. "Sugar! They both called me sugar. Same tone!" Dean ran from the room, around to the front of the building and all but kicked the door in as he barreled through it. The woman looked up from where she sat behind the counter, pale, hair disheveled, scared.

Dean grabbed her by the shoulders, yanking her to her feet. "Where's my brother, bitch?!"

She gasped, tears falling from her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about! Let me go! I didn't do anything!!"

"Bull! You're in on this! Tell me where he is or I'll send you straight to hell!" Dean released her and reached for his gun as she fell to her knees, sobbing. Joshua grabbed Dean from behind, restraining him as the big hunter took his gun and tucked it into his own belt.

"Damnit Dean! Stop it! She doesn't know anything!"

"No! She's got Sammy somewhere!" Dean fought to get at the sobbing girl.

Joshua wrapped an arm around Dean's torso, squeezing tight, pinning the young hunter's arms to his chest. "STOP Dean!" Josh barked the order and Dean obeyed the tone instantly, part of Joshua still hating John Winchester for that immediate submission.

"Christo." Joshua said softly, in Dean's ear, but loud enough for the girl to hear too."

She leaned forward, sobbing. "Don't hurt me, pl-please." She never flinched, her eyes never turned.

"God." Dean deflated, turning from the office. Joshua turned and followed the young hunter, catching his arm and spinning him halfway around the corner of the motel.

"Dean, you saw her, she was possessed. She's a wreck. You were right. You were right."

"I almost killed her."

"Dean, listen to me. We're on the right track. We just have to get outta here, put our heads together and…"

Dean's cell phone rang, the musical tone building in volume as he jerked it from his pocket.

"Yeah Bobby?"

"Got the info on the Catalina, Dean."

Dean took off, all but sprinting for the motel room. Joshua followed closely, waiting until Dean wrote down what Bobby had to say. Dean closed his phone and it landed on the table with a clatter from his boneless fingers. He leaned forward and dropped his head, shoulders slumped.

"What is it boy? What'd Bobby say?"

***

Dark eyes watched from the pitch as their captive's head drooped, his sobs finally quieting as he gave in to a fevered, restless slumber.

"If he dies father will strip our skin from our flesh."

"I know that. I'm just enjoying his suffering for a few moments. It's so so wonderful coming from a Winchester…almost delectable." The black eyes glistened with mirth.

"There will be lots more to come as he cracks. He cannot be allowed to die."

"I understand." A thought rearranged the room silently around the sleeping captive, the next piece in the dismantlement of Sam Winchester was put into place, leaning against the same wall, not even five feet from him, silent and unmoving, and waiting to be found.

A hand grabbed Sam by the ankle, startling him from his fevered nightmares. A sharp yank had him sliding down the wall to lay on his back. Sam tried to kick free but a firm hand smacked down on the wound, digging in. Sam screamed and stilled, the hand loosening instantly.

"Why… you…doin' this?" Sam panted out, trying to see his assailant through the darkness with eyes leaking tears of pain. "Who are you?"

He felt air on his abdomen as his shirt was pushed up roughly, the fibers pulling at ragged edges and clotting blood. "Wha?" His neck arched, muscles cording, word choking off on a scream as something burned through him, the smell of charred flesh replacing the smell of rot lodged in his nose as his chest heaved. Finally oblivion overtook him, welcomed wholeheartedly.

"There. He won't succumb to his own stupidity."

"Leave him. The next part of his torture is in place."

The eyes disappeared into the pitch, leaving the youngest Winchester alone in his prison once more.

***

Sam woke, his empty stomach making his journey to conscious an abrupt one as it cramped viciously. He moaned, putting a hand just below his sternum. He eased into a sitting position, leaning against the moldy wall. "Hello?!" He stood, leaning shakily against the wall. "I know someone's here!" Sam stayed close to the surface, carefully avoiding the awful hole in the floor. "Please…let me go!" Not getting a response, he tried something else. "I gotta use the bathroom!" His stomach cramped again. "Can I at least have something to eat? It's obvious you want me for something, you probably should at least give me some food!"

Sam's hand curled into a fist and he pounded on the wall, the boards squelching beneath his hand. "DAMNIT, SOMEONE TALK TO ME!!" Sam groaned again, hunching, until he made up his mind to do something about his needs. He moved away from the wall, towards where he remembered the door being, the hole in the floor that he fell through. As he felt he was nearing the hole he crouched, feeling the floor with grimy hands. Finally finding the splintery edge of the abyss and stopped, standing up. He relieved himself, using the hole for a makeshift toilet. Sam zipped his pants and turned, making his way back to the wall. He began casing his prison, both for something to do and to look again for an escape. Every few minutes he pounded on the wall and bellowed, trying to get a response out of his captive. He turned and began walking back along the same wall. "CAN I GET SOME WATER?!"

A fist snapped out of the darkness and clipped Sam in the mouth, splitting his upper lip deeply. Blood spurted from the wound and down over his chin. Rough hands grabbed his jaw and tipped his head back painfully, ramming something into his abused mouth. Foul liquid poured over his tongue and down his throat as he spluttered, gagging as the rotten egg taste of the liquid made his empty stomach churn. It was pulled away and Sam's head was shoved down, his chin slamming into his sternum and he bit his tongue. He fell to his knees, gagging as bile and fetid water rushed back up his throat. He vomited, acid burning his wounded mouth. He felt a boot drill into his hip, kicking him over onto his back. His eyes watered from the pain and he felt his jaw grabbed again. A harsh whisper, the voice indistinguishable as anyone he knew, rasped in the darkness.

"That'll teach you to ask politely next time." A laugh tortured his ears. "Not that there will be one." Sam's head was slammed into the boards and the darkness grew blacker instantly.

Oops, poor Sammy! I'll have more on Wednesday. Leave a review!