Before: Dread filled Dean as he looked at the contents of the tray. It contained knives of varying sizes, several spikes, what looked like a cat-o'-nines, and other things Dean couldn't quite make out. But their purpose was clear. They were instruments of torture.

He had a feeling this was going to be a rather painful "little chit-chat."

Chapter Seven

Dean watched warily as the demon carefully examined the contents of the make-shift table. "Where's Jo? What have you done with her?" The demon ignored him.

"Where is she, you black-eyed bitch?" Still no response. "Answer me!"

The demon finally glanced at him and smiled. "Don't worry, your sweetheart is safe. Martin's going to take good care of her."

Dean had a feeling that he knew how Martin was going to "take care of her", and he didn't like it one bit. He needed to get out of here and help her before Martin tried anything.

"What do you want with us?"

"We just want to have a little fun."

Dean braced himself as the demon picked up an ugly looking knife and turned to him. She grinned at him in a way that in another situation he might have found sexy. Her tongue dragged along the blade as she slowly approached him.

She paused before him and ran her hand gently down his chest. He shivered at the unwanted touch. The demon brought the knife up to his neck, and Dean held his breath, waiting to feel the bite of the blade. Instead, she ripped the blade down his shirt. She repeated this process until his shirts lay in ribbons at his feet. With nothing to protect his bare torso from the cold, Dean started to shiver again.

The demon stepped back to admire her work, again running a hand along his hard muscles, almost like a lover's touch. Ugly purple bruises were already beginning to show along his ribs and stomach, courtesy of Martin and Bullet-Wound.

"Hey, we only just met. It's a little soon for that," Dean retorted, trying to arch his body away from her invasive hand. "I don't even know your name."

"Oh, but we do know each other sweetie. We're old friends," the demon walked back over to the chair and dragged it closer to the dangling hunter. "Let's see if I can't help you jog your memory." She picked up one of the jugs that sat on the floor.

Unscrewing the bottle, she doused Dean's head in ice cold water. Dean gasped as the sudden cold took his breath away.

"Does that help, sweetie? Do you remember now?" the demon asked, a little angrily, picking up another bottle and repeating the process. "You don't remember burning me with holy water?"

"Sorry, you obviously didn't make an impression, sweetie," Dean answered as he tried to get his breath back. "I soak too many black-eyed sons of bitches to remember them all."

As if in answer, the demon picked up another bottle of freezing water and splashed it onto Dean's body. He was now thoroughly soaked and trembling harder than ever against the cold.

"What did I tell you about language, sweetie?" The demon picked up a small knife from the tray and quickly slashed it across his bare chest, making a long, shallow cut.

Dean bit back a moan. "Don't remember. I was too busy making friends with Ugly over there," Dean nodded his head towards the corner where Bullet-Wound was standing. The man scowled in return.

"You should listen more carefully next time," the demon said, bringing the blade down across his right bicep. "I hate having to teach lessons twice."

She laid down the knife and ran her fingers over the other objects on the tray. "Have you remembered my name yet, sweetie?" She asked, glancing back at him. When he didn't answer, she continued. "Maybe this will help with your breakthrough." She picked up a nasty looking spike off the improvised table.

Dean eyed the spike as she turned back towards him. He didn't remember ganking any demons with a weapon like that.

The demon held the spike up in front of his face, flicked it with her finger, then twirled it and plunged it into the left side of his stomach, directly above his hip bone. Dean couldn't keep back a grunt of pain as she slowly twisted the weapon, forcing it deeper into his body. The demon's eyes lit up at the sounds of his distress. The wound was well placed; it wasn't immediately fatal, but damn did it hurt.

Dean gritted his teeth, forcing himself to breathe deeply as she finally drew the spike out. He hung there, trembling and panting slightly, glaring at her. Whoever this bitch is, I'm going to enjoy sending her back to hell.

"Remember me now, sweetie? No? How about now?" The demon grabbed a knife from the tray and reached up to slash it across the back of Dean's right hand. He gasped in pain as he felt fresh blood run down his wrists from the wound. She drew the knife back and plunged it through the center of his palm.

"AAAHHHHH!" Dean couldn't keep the scream back as the blade tore through the muscles in his hand.

The demon smiled and withdrew the knife. She had missed doing this.

"Any name's popping into that thick skull of yours?" Seeing no sudden realization on the trapped hunter's face, the demon sighed and put the weapons down. "Really, Dean, I thought you'd be brighter than this." She picked up the wicked cat-o'-nines from the tray. "Sammy probably would have remembered me."

Dean's head shot up at the mention of his little brother. "If you hurt him, I swear I'll…"

"You'll what, sweetie? Send me to hell? See, you tried that once, yet here I am." The demon walked back to him and slowly caressed his face with the handle of the whip. "I just couldn't stay away." She walked around him, dragging the handle across his body as she did.

Dean let out a pained scream as the whip came down hard across his back.

"I had hoped you would remember me by this point. I mean, I've given you most of my signature marks." The whip snapped down again. "Puncture wound in the stomach, stabbed hand, lashings on the back. Sure, my victims usually had other marks too, from my sister…" Dean screamed as the whip bit into his back a third time. "…but overall, I thought I was making it pretty obvious." The cat-o'-nines cracked down once more across his bare flesh.

Victims? Dean struggled to think through the pain. Sister? Suddenly, realization dawned on him as he put two and two together.

"Ryan?!" he gasped out in pain.

The fall of the whip stopped at the sound of the name. The demon walked back around to face him. "Finally, sweetie you remembered. I knew you could do it." She patted his head as if in reward.

"Where's your sister?" Dean asked, gritting his teeth against the pain. "I thought you two tortured as a team."

"Oh, don't worry, she'll be joining us soon. Rachel just had to pick someone up first. After all, you're not the only one we're looking forward to meeting again."

Sam! "What have you done to him?"

"Nothing yet, sweetie. Rachel's just going to bring him here to join our little party." She shivered slightly and adjusted her coat again. "Although, it does seem to be a little chilly at our party." She studied him for a moment, relishing in the sight of the violent tremors that were shaking his beaten body. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I've been a rude host. Would you like something to warm you up?"

Before Dean could answer, Ryan grabbed something long and flexible from the tray and tied it around his neck. Grinning maniacally at him, she held up a remote and pushed a button.

Dean's body seized as electricity rushed through the collar at his neck. The voltage was set far above the usual setting; electricity tore viciously through his body.

After what felt like an eternity, Ryan released the button. "Is that better, sweetie?"

Dean hung from the hook, trembling and breathing heavily, unable to get his mouth to work to answer.

Ryan seemed to notice his trembling. "Still cold?" She again held down the button on the remote, this time for longer. Dean writhed in pain as pure agony swept through his body. It felt like his veins were on fire, his blood boiling from the intrusive shocks.

Finally she released the button and put the remote in her pocket. "I'm really starting to enjoy myself, sweetie, aren't you?" Dean didn't answer, just hung there limply. "I can't wait until my sister and your brother join us."

"Leave…him…alone…" Dean managed through pained breaths.

"Oh don't worry sweetie, I won't lay a finger on your precious little brother. Well, at least not until my sister has had some fun with him. Speaking of which, they should be here soon." She glanced down at her watch and frowned slightly, then looked towards Bullet-Wound.

"Alvin, go see if Rachel needs any help with Sammy." The man nodded and left without a word.

"I thought you and your sister worked alone. Where'd you pick up Fugly 1 and Fugly 2?" Dean managed to ask, trying to keep his mind off of the pain in his body.

"Oh, you'd be surprised at how easy it is to find people to help you when you name the right price. They're good for security and for doing the heavy lifting, but don't worry, Rachel and I still like to do the dirty work ourselves."

Ryan picked up another knife from the table and grinned. "Now, back to the party!"