A/N: Sorry for taking so long with the past two updates. My life's been a little busy lately. Here's a nice, extra-long chapter to make it up to you!

Chapter Ten

Dean moaned softly in the darkness. Ryan had finally left him alone after he had fainted from pain and blood loss. He didn't care where she went, and didn't much care for her to come back. He welcomed the respite.

He was trembling uncontrollably now, the cold starting to really take its toll on him. Ryan enjoyed dousing him in ice water. Which just so happened to be just water, not holy water, as Dean learned when he tried spitting the water in her face. That little "stunt," as she called it, had earned him another two slashes across the chest and a nice long shock from the collar still around his neck.

Dean also sported several more welts on his back from the whip, a gash across his thigh, several more bruises across his torso, and a broken right arm. Judging by the pain that racked through his side with every tremor, he was pretty sure his cracked rib had completely broken.

He didn't know how long he had been here alone, but it was long enough for most of the bleeding to have slowed. The two newest slashes on his chest still oozed slightly and he could feel blood slowly pouring from his punctured hand, but other than that the bleeding had slowed. All except for the wound in his side, which still bled profusely. Between the blood loss, the pain, the cold, and the lack of nourishment, Dean felt light-headed. Staying conscious even now was difficult.

The worst part, however, wasn't the pain or the cold. It was not knowing what was happening to Jo and Sam. He had no idea where either of them were or if they were ok. Dean prayed to every entity he knew that they weren't hurt and that Sam was still free. He needed to find a way out of here before anything happened to them. And while I still have the strength to help them he added silently as another tremor shook his damaged body.

A sound from above broke through Dean's thoughts. Voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but they sounded urgent. As they talked Dean mentally brought himself back together. There was no way in hell he was letting Ryan know how weak he actually was.

After several minutes of heated conversation, the voices broke off and the hatch swung open. The demon, Alvin, and another large man climbed down, the men carrying several plastic jugs. Ryan had come back for more "fun."

Alvin and his friend deposited the jugs in the center of the room and moved to a corner. Dean noted that the stranger was limping.

The demon stopped in the middle of the room and stared at Dean appraisingly. He glared back, trying to convey all the hatred and disgust he felt towards her while attempting to hide the pain and fear he was trying to fight down.

The silence stretched as Ryan just stood there, watching him. The only sound was the wind howling through the open hatch. Dean was starting to grow uncomfortable with her sudden quietness. She had been so talkative before. Finally, he broke the silence.

"You should take a picture, it'll last longer," he retorted, putting up a brave façade.

Ryan's eyes narrowed. She continued to glare at him for a few moments, then finally spoke.

"Your brother's giving us a lot of trouble, Dean."

"Yeah, he's good at being a pain in the ass."

"We don't tolerate people who give us trouble." She continued to glare at him for another moment in silence before speaking again. "According to Christopher here," she continued, gesturing to the newcomer, "Sammy found his visit a little…disagreeable. You can see he injured my colleague. Now your brother and my sister are missing." She stepped closer to the hunter. "You're going to help us find him. Where is he, Dean?"

"If you think I'm going to tell your sorry-ass where he is, you've got another thing coming."

"Do not make me ask again, Dean Winchester. Where is your brother?" Ryan's voice had turned dangerously cold.

"He's in friggin' Disneyland having the time of his-" Dean cut off as Ryan backhanded him sharply across the face.

Stars danced across his eyes from the force of the blow. Damn, demons can pack a punch. Dean was too dazed to realize what was happening around him until he felt something tighten around his neck.

Gagging, Dean fought to focus on his surroundings. Ryan held a rope taut in her hand. Following the thick rope with his eyes, he saw it looped over the same hook he was dangling from. He presumed the other end of it was what was now cutting off his air supply.

"I told you not to make me ask again."

Dean couldn't reply as he fought to get oxygen to his lungs. He desperately tried to pull his weight up higher, ignoring his throbbing shoulders, but to no avail. As the pressure relinquished slightly from his gained altitude, Ryan simply pulled the rope tighter. The stars that already danced in front of his eyes increased as his lungs screamed for air. He was just on the verge of passing out, thinking he was going to die, when Ryan finally dropped the rope. Immediately, the pressure at his throat diminished and Dean gasped in great lung full of airs. His broken rib screamed in protest at every heave, but Dean ignored it, just grateful to be getting air back into his oxygen-starved lungs.

"Where's Sam?" Ryan's voiced penetrated through Dean's pained gasps.

"Go….to….he-" Dean was cut off again as the pressure increased on the rope. Once again, Dean struggled for air. His struggle increased when electricity ripped through him, forcing his body to seize up and the pressure of the rope to increase even more. Dean was certain he was going to pass out when the pressure and the electricity suddenly relaxed.

"Are you going to be helpful?" Ryan's cold eyes glared at him, assessing him.

Dean panted heavily, trying to get air into his starving lungs. Truth was, Dean didn't know where Sam was. Not that he would tell them if he did. But he would have liked to know that his little brother was safe. The only places he thought he would be were the motel or the bar, and considering these bitches had been waiting in ambush for him and Jo, he assumed they knew where those were. Which meant Sam probably wasn't there. Dean prayed that his baby brother was somewhere safe.

When the hunter didn't answer, Ryan again pulled on the rope. This time, however, she didn't yank it tight enough to suffocate him. It was just tight enough to restrict his breathing slightly, making breathing uncomfortable and talking nearly impossible.

She walked over to the wall, rope in hand, and tied the end to a hook attached to the wall, leaving her hands free as the rope continued to strangle Dean. As she walked back over to the now forcibly mute man, she pulled out a cell phone, Dean's cell phone, and dialed a number. "Let's see if your brother will be more helpful."

Dean watched her warily, and drew in a sharp breath as he faintly heard his brother answer on the other end.

"Hello, Sammy. It's been a long time." Her voice was sickeningly sweet, not at all cold and dangerous like it had been moments before.

"Ryan? What do you want? Where's Dean? Where's Jo?"

"So many questions, Sammy boy. Slow down. Jo's being taken care of, and your brother's right here with me. Say hi, Dean."

Dean tried to communicate to his brother that he was ok, that he was still living and conscious and fighting, but all that came out was a strangled moan. Not at all the confident, strong reassurance he had wanted to give his brother.

"Now, Sammy, I believe you are currently in the company of my sister. If you would be so kind as to put her on the line, I would be very grateful."

"And why would I do that?"

"Well, because I happen to have a nice big bottle of hydrochloric acid here with me, and I'm thinking about how much fun it would be to bathe your big brother in it." She picked up one of the new plastic jugs from the floor and walked closer to Dean.

"And what if I were to tell you I have a nice big bottle of holy water here with me, and I'm thinking about how much fun it would be to bathe your sister in it?" Sam retorted.

"I would say I'm willing to bet that I have more acid than you have water. Want to see who can withstand the pain the longest?" Ryan paused for a moment, waiting for Sam's reply. When he didn't say anything, she unscrewed the cap of the jug and raised it above Dean's right shoulder. "I'm waiting."

"Tell me what you want to say to her, and I'll…" the rest of Sam's answer was cut off by the sound of Dean's scream as Ryan tipped the jug.

Acid streamed down Dean's right shoulder, rushing down his right side and into his open wounds. Dean writhed in pain. He fought to keep the howls of pains away, not wanting to make his little brother worry, but he couldn't help it. Dean screamed in agony as the acid continued to eat away at his skin. Well, screamed as well as he could with a rope around his neck. He could faintly hear Sam's frantic cries in the background.

"Phone, Sammy. Now." There was a moment of silence, then a female voice came over the line.

"Ryan?"

"Rachel." Ryan continued on, switching to a dialect Dean didn't recognize.

Dean was in too much pain to attempt to understand what the demon was saying. He moaned as the acid continued to burn his right side, seeping into the cuts along his arm and chest. It felt like a thousand scalding knives biting into his skin. He had never experienced pain like this before.

Finally, Ryan switched back into English. "Thank you, Sammy. You're much more cooperative than your big brother. I still have some manners to teach him." Before Sam could reply, she clicked off the phone. She turned to the men standing silently in the corner. "Highway 82. 11 miles. Abandoned cabin. Go." Alvin nodded and climbed out of the room.

"You can leave too, Christopher," the demon added, turning back to her prisoner.

"Sorry for the delay, sweetie. Business called. But now that the boring stuff's taken care of, we can get back to the fun."

Dean glared at her, wishing looks could kill. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. Where's Sammy? Where's Jo? Rot in hell. What did that bitch say? But he couldn't say anything due to the rope that was slowly strangling him.

"Now, I think it's time to have an important discussion." Ryan picked up a carving knife off the tray. She walked up to him and slowly pressed it into the skin above his heart.

"You care so much for your brother, don't you sweetie?" She pressed the blade in harder, breaking the skin. "Always try to keep him safe, just like Daddy told you to." Slowly the blade dragged across the right side of his chest. "But you keep failing."

Dean didn't answer, in part because of the noose around his neck and partly because he was focusing on not passing out from the pain. Acid was already mixing into the new wound.

"How many times have you let your baby brother down, sweetie? How many times has he gotten injured because of your folly?" The blade worked its way around his side and to his back. "Probably too many to count. But don't worry, this will be the last time you let down your little brother. Because my little sister is going to kill him." The knife plunged into his back, directly below his right shoulder blade.

Dean let out a strangled moan. He didn't want to believe what she said. From the phone call, it sounded more like Rachel was at Sam's mercy than Sam was at Rachel's. But he didn't know what she had told her sister when she was speaking in tongues. A knot of dread started to form in the pit of his stomach as the fear for his brother was renewed.

Ryan removed the knife and walked back around in front of him.

"And what about all those victims? How many were there? 36? 36 people you couldn't save."

Slowly she started to drag the knife down his chest in a long straight line, followed by another, and another, all parallel to each other. "One…two…three…four…you know, they all died screaming, begging for mercy…five…" On the fifth count she drug the knife diagonally across the other slashes. Dean groaned as the knife cut into him.

"Six..." again the parallel slash. "Seven…eight…many of them were helpless women, mothers, wives, what you might have called a good person…nine…and you didn't save them. You let them die…ten"

Dean tried to block out her words along with the pain. Most of the victims had died before they had taken the case. Most of them weren't their fault!

"Some were children…eleven…twelve…one was only five years old…thirteen…and you let him die." There was nothing he could have done for them, they were dead before he knew they were dying!

"Fourteen…he begged for his mommy and daddy, but no one came…fifteen…no one came to the rescue…sixteen…seventeen…no one cared enough to come, not even you…eighteen." It wasn't his fault! Except for those last few…

"Oh how it must grate at you to know you let so many people down…nineteen…let so many die…twenty…twenty-one…one right in front of you…twenty-two." If he had been just a minute sooner, they might have been able to help the last victim. If only he had been a little faster, a little stronger…

"Twenty-three…he died screaming, right in front of you…twenty-four…you let him die…twenty-five…twenty-six…you weren't strong enough to save him…twenty-seven…just like you weren't strong enough to save the others…twenty-eight…just like you weren't strong enough to save your mommy…twenty-nine…or your daddy…thirty…or your little sweetheart…thirty-one…or your baby brother…thirty-two…or yourself…thirty-three…thirty-four..." The demon paused and leaned in close to his ear. "You're a failure." She quickly carved the final two tally marks into his chest as physical reminders of his failure.

Dean breathed heavily as she finally backed away, his head hanging low. His shoulders shook as silent tears flowed down his face from both the pain and the sorrow he felt. Not to mention the self-loathing at his failure. All the guilt and hatred he had kept carefully locked away in the back of his mind were set loose in his dangerously weakened state. He should have saved those people. It was his job.

Ryan stood there, studying him, taking obvious pleasure in his despair. Suddenly, her eyes took on a ravenous look.

"You know, even all mangled as you are, you really are quite handsome. I'm sure you have all the ladies falling at your feet." She stepped up to him and ran her hands down his bare chest. He winced as her hands passed over the cuts, and grunted as she put pressure on his broken rib. He tried to move his body away from her hand, but to no avail. Dean just wanted to be left alone, he wanted her to leave. No more pain, no more torture, no more suffering. He wanted Sammy. More tears streamed down his face at the thought of the little brother he had let down so many times. At least Sam wasn't the one being tortured.

"I think it's time for a different type of fun." Ryan leaned her head in, pressing her lips against his, jolting him out of his thoughts. Dean immediately jerked his head back and to the side as far as he could with the noose tightened around his neck. Ryan's eyes narrowed.

"Still so rude." She reached back and grabbed a dagger off of the table and pressed it to the back of his neck. She then leaned in to kiss him again. Dean couldn't pull back now without cutting his neck on the blade.

He was forced to hang there, not moving, as she continued to force her mouth against his. Her free hand explored his body. He felt her smile as he groaned at the pain her hand was causing.

Slowly her hand worked its way down his body, making sure to aggravate every wound that wasn't bathed in acid. Most of the shivers racking through Dean had nothing to do with the cold now. The demon ran her hand along the hem of his jeans and followed the zipper down. She smiled against his mouth as she squeezed his crotch, hard.

Suddenly, a large thud sounded outside the door. Ryan jerked back and glared at the ceiling. After a moment of contemplation, she stepped back from Dean. She started to walk towards the door, then paused, turning back to the hunter.

"Hold this for me, will you, sweetie?" She asked as she plunged the dagger into his right shoulder. Dean screamed in agony as the blade tore at the muscles of his strained shoulder and acid seeped into the wound. Ryan smiled at his sounds of anguish. She pulled a gun out from behind her jeans, checked that it was loaded, tucked it back behind her belt, and left the room, leaving Dean alone with his pain.