Author's Note: Sorry it has taken so long to update. My best friend got engaged and married in a whirlwind 4 months, so I was caught up in that. Plus, this chapter has given me fits. I think this is about the 9 millionth draft of it. Hope you like it. Not much happens, but it leads up to lots of stuff happening in the next few chapters.

Also, the poem in this chapter is "No te amo" by Pablo Neruda (i.e., "I Do Not Love You"). If you've never read it, you should check it out. There are a number of good English translations.

Chapter Nineteen

Two Weeks Later

Sam loomed above Liz. She tried to get up but he stopped her.

"We have to do this," he reasoned, "otherwise they'll never let us leave."

"I'm not going to..." Liz trailed off as Sam kissed her where her jaw met her neck. He trailed kisses across her collarbone and down the valley between her breasts. Liz fingers tangled in his hair. When did she become naked? But she didn't have time to worry about that. Sam was whispering in Spanish as he mapped her skin with kisses and his tongue. "No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio o flecha de claveles que propagan eñ fuego." He kissed her stomach then licked his way back to her collarbone and started on the other side of her body. "Te amo como se aman ciertas cosa oscuras, secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma." Liz recognized the poem but couldn't think enough to place it as Sam continued to whisper it against her skin. "Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores, y gracias tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra."

Without Liz really realizing what was happening, they started making love. She vaguely had a notion that something was wrong about this but couldn't remember what it could be. She chased after the feeling for a moment but couldn't quite catch it.

Sam noticed her distraction and stopped what he was doing. When she focused on him again, he finished reciting the poem, all the while staring directly at her, pinning her with his gaze. "Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde, te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo: así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera, sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres, tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía, tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño."

They stared at one another for an intense moment after he stopped talking, then they were making love in earnest. Liz forgot her doubts, forgot everything other than that her body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending at attention for Sam. All she wanted was Sam; all she could think about was Sam. Something tried to flit across her mind, but Sam shifted and it was gone. His head was now by her ear, and all she could hear was their ragged breathing. Her name spilled from his lips, and his voice somehow managed to sound both strangled and prayer-like all at once. "Liz!" She had heard her name said like that before, and it hadn't been Sam who had said it. "Liz." This time was more of a moan. It caused something to pound insistently against her consciousness. "Oh, Liz," Sam moaned again then lightly bit her shoulder. Sam...Sam did this. Sam. Sam? But then that wasn't right. It should have been...Dean. Dean? Sam's brother Dean? Liz couldn't think of what Dean had to do with anything. There was a moment of confusion for Liz as she struggled to remember. Suddenly she did. Dean! How could she forget Dean?

Liz pushed against Sam, who ignored her. "Sam, stop," she demanded. He looked up at her, and because he was Sam and not a demon wearing Sam's face, he stopped. He sat back on his heels and watched her.

"What's wrong?"

Liz swallowed. "This. Everything. Don't you remember? Dean is..."

Sam sighed. "So you remembered. Took you longer than last time."

Liz shook her head to try to clear it but was having a hard time. "You're not Sam," she said matter-of-factly. So much for it not being a demon wearing Sam's face.

"True."

"What are you then? Incubus? Something like that?"

The thing with Sam's face smiled. "Something like that."

"And I'm asleep."

"Yes."

"I'd like to wake up."

Sam brushed across her lips with his thumb. "Of course. See you next time, sweetheart."

Liz knocked his hand away. "Word to the wise, Sam would not call me 'sweetheart.'"

"Duly noted." Sam rolled off of her. "See you tonight if not sooner," he said and then was gone.

Liz woke up to a bare room. She was chained to the floor and was still wearing the clothing she had worked out in when she was kidnapped. When the smell got too bad, someone came and sprayed her down with a hose. Liz was disoriented, so it took her a moment to realize that Ginger was in the room watching her.

"Pleasant dreams?" she asked.

Liz pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. "Screw you," she spat at her.

Ginger smiled faintly. "It's getting harder to remember why you're supposed to wake up, isn't it?" she said. "Before long, you won't even remember Dean at all. Then you won't know why you and Sam is wrong. You'll only remember that screwing Sam is what you quite literally were born to do."

Liz was so exhausted she didn't even bother with a retort. The circles under her eyes looked black she was so tired and sleep deprived. She hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep a night since she had gotten here. She could see the curse creeping down her arm and knew it was only a matter of days before she died. She hoped it was soon. She wanted to die with whatever memories of Dean she could.

Ginger stepped closer. "Don't take this the wrong way. It's not that I didn't enjoy the last memory you gave me. I'm sure that Dean would be delighted to think that the thought of him kept you going as you were facing down big, bad evil in Asia Minor, but I was hoping for something a little juicier than that. Something more like this." Ginger grabbed Liz's head, and Liz couldn't help it: she screamed. The memory being pulled from her burned and when it was gone, she felt bereft even though she couldn't have said why. Then Ginger's memory was flooding in to replace Liz's lost one. It felt foreign and...wrong. It was a memory Ginger had of the night she and Jason had conceived their second child. Liz felt tears spring to her eyes. Whatever Ginger had taken from her must have been important for that memory to have been the trade.

Liz's memory must have shaken Ginger just a little because she stayed near Liz just a moment too long. Liz struck faster than Ginger would have thought possible, grabbing Ginger's head and forcing the memory she had conjured into Ginger's head while taking one of Ginger's in its place.

It was Ginger's turn to scream. She stumbled away from Liz, breaking the grip Liz had on her as she did so. She scrambled as far away from Liz as she could, stopping only when her back was against the wall. "What did you do?" she demanded. "You stupid bitch, what did you do?"

Liz's face was ashen. She gulped in a deep breath of air and slid to the floor. "That's how you're supposed to torture someone," she said through her labored breaths. "I took your best memory and gave you my worst."

Ginger kept her back to the wall and remained facing Liz. "And you're telling me that having your memories of Dean replaced by ones of Jason—knowing that soon you may not remember Dean at all, only Jason, who you never wanted or loved—you're telling me that's not torture? Bullshit, Liz."

A sheen of sweat rose on Liz's forehead. She looked down at her arm. The curse had visibly progressed after expending so much energy. The next time she tried something so rash, it would more than likely kill her. She swallowed to try and keep herself from passing out. When she felt like any danger of doing so had passed, she looked up at Ginger again. "You're right. It's torture. I can't sleep without dreaming about Sam, and now my head is full of Jason. What I don't get is you. How can you trade your life, your memories, your love? You're giving away your life. To me of all people. How can you live with yourself? Why does Jason let you do it? Doesn't it bother you at all?"

Ginger looked unmoved by Liz's impassioned speech. All she said was, "We all do what we think we have to to get by."

Both women jumped as the door was suddenly flung open. Ginger hurriedly stood at attention and faced Tom as he strode into the room followed by two men dragging a very limp Sam between them.

Tom looked at Ginger with something akin to disgust. "Any progress?"

Ginger shook her head. "I've tried everything. I've nearly completely erased Dean from her memories. It's not there."

Tom glared. "I knew I should have dealt with her myself. I knew you would be too soft to do what needs to be done. Leave. I'll handle things from here."

Ginger looked panicked. "But..."

"Don't make me tell you again."

Ginger wasn't stupid. She looked unhappy as she did it, but she left without another word.

Tom waited until the door had closed behind her before he spoke. "I'm sure you think it's rude that I've yet to come and see you. I can assure you I've been keeping close tabs on Ginger's progress. She insists that you have no memories of having birthed a child. I think she just hasn't been firm enough. So, in that vein, first I'm going to show you what I've done to Sam, and then I'm going to get you to tell me where your child is. Sound fair?"

Liz glared at him silently. He laughed and nodded at the two men. They dropped Sam to the floor. Liz watched him warily, but was too tired to fight whatever was going to happen.

It took Sam a minute to move. When he did move, he looked up at Liz with a completely blank expression. Liz wasn't entirely sure that he recognized her at all. They stared at one another for a moment, then Sam was moving toward her.

Liz had only thought she had no fight in her. Sam grabbed the back of her neck, and every instinct for survival that she possessed screamed at her. She fought to break his hold, kicking and scratching and trying to move away from him. Her attempts didn't seem to faze him. He had her pinned in a matter of seconds. Then his tongue was in her mouth and panic was bubbling up within her. She couldn't remember why she should be so panicked other than it had something to do with the memory she had forced on Ginger.

Sam pulled back for a breath, and when he did, he looked at Liz like he was trying to steel himself for what came next. Liz felt a bubble of hope well up inside of her. "Please," she begged, making herself sound as pathetic as possible.

Sam looked tortured. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just want it to be over with. They promised it would be over with if I would do this."

Liz bucked against him, trying to throw him off. That did nothing but let Sam slip his hands under her and press her against him. She tried clawing him, but her fingernails had been cut making it ineffective. Sam tugged at her pants, and she screamed and started pleading in earnest. "Please, please, please, please, please. Please, Sam. Please, please, please, please, please. Please, don't do this."

Sam ignored her as he continued to undress her.

Tom watched the scene with a triumphant smile. Jason came into the room and gave the entangled pair a dispassionate glance. "If I had known the goal was to kill Liz, I could have saved us all some time and energy and just shot her."

Tom rolled his eyes at Jason but nodded to the other men in the room to break Sam and Liz up. The men wrestled Sam away from Liz, who curled into a ball and started shaking like a leaf as soon as she was free.

"Make no mistake," Tom said, "I fully plan on killing Liz. Just not right now. I still need her."

"I thought pointless torture was beneath you," Jason rebutted.

Tom laughed. "Obviously you haven't been paying very much attention. Pointless torture is my favorite kind of torture. The more pointless the better. And besides, that was more of a test than anything. I needed to make sure that Sam will come through for me before I take Liz off her leash."

"And if I hadn't come in just then?"

Tom rolled his eyes again. "I wasn't going to actually let Sam rape her. I do need her alive. Well, I at least need her alive until I can get the information I need."

"Still haven't given up on the kid thing, huh?"

Tom glared at the other man. "There are few things of which I am as certain as I am that Liz had Sam's child. It's just a matter of having the right motivation to make her tell us. Ginger's pussy-footing didn't work, so it's time to take matters into my own hands." Tom shrugged, breaking the intensity of his speech. "And if it turns out that I'm wrong, there's always plan B. Sam's more than proven that he's ready to do what needs to be done."

Jason sighed. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Like I care either way," Tom replied. "I'll give Liz until after dinner to collect herself because, let's be honest, it's just sad when she's like this. Then I will get what I want, one way or another."