thanks for reading and for all the awesome reviews!! still a really long way to go!! hope everyone is still liking the story!! bambers;)

Chapter Twenty

"Sam," Dawn carefully gathered Sam into her arms, and heard him groan in pain. "Come on, Sam, you have to wake up for me."

Another weak groan escaped Sam's lips as he trembled in her arms. "D-Dawn . . . pl-please?" he mumbled as he tried to focus his eyes on her. "Jus' a . . . a little." He licked his dried, cracked lips, swallowing hard as he lowered his gaze to her pocket.

"No, not yet, Sam." Fear crept into Dawn's heart as she realized how deeply the heroin was taking over Sam's life and thoughts, and his addiction to it was solely her fault. No matter how she reasoned that the Father had made her give it to Sam, it always circled back to the overwhelming fact that she wasn't strong enough to protect the man she loved from harm.

A sad frown creased her brow as understanding filled her mind. There would be no easy way back for Sam. No quick cure for what she'd done to him. Even when they were free from the Father's hold on them, Sam would continue to suffer, and he would despise her for it. She knew it would be well deserved, fair and just, but prayed with all her heart that he would somehow be able to look beyond all that she had done, and love her like she loved him.

Why the hell would he love me? she chided herself as a bone-weary sigh slipped past her lips. I'm the reason he's here. I'm the reason he's so broken.

Dawn thought back to the day when she'd met Sam at the bank. Sam had been so trusting, his thoughts solely on saving Dean. He had never even considered that she wasn't who she pretended to be. She'd played her part to perfection, all-the-while her thoughts purely intent on telling the Father of the threat Sam represented to the family.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Dawn whispered as she brushed away the tears slipping down her cheeks. She lowered her head and kissed him softly on the lips, and only drew back when she felt him wince. "This is all my fault, but I swear to God I'll make it right.

"N-not your fault," Sam murmured, his shallow breath warm and reassuring against her cheek. "Want ya to go . . . d-don't wanna see ya hurt cause of me."

"Not leaving you here alone. Made you a promise that we would get out of here together, an' I meant it."

"Please go, Da-wn," Sam's voice hitched in throat as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. A small anguished cry burst from his lips as he writhed in her arms. "Pl-ease," he managed to choke out between staggering gasps, "n-need ya ta be safe."

"No. I need you to listen to me, okay." Dawn yanked a bottle of water out of her jacket pocket, twisted off the cap, and put it to Sam's lips. Water spilled down the corners of his mouth as he struggled to take a drink. "I talked to your father, Sam. He's gonna get you out of here. Do you understand me? He's coming to get you."

"H-he's not c-comin'," Sam slowly shook his head, "n-never has before . . . ." his voice trailed off as tears filled his eyes. "Doesn't c-care."

"Listen, I don't know anything about your father, or your family for that matter, but he said he was gonna get you out of here. An' from the look of determination I saw in his eyes, I believe him."

"Tried . . . c-called 'im." Sam shivered uncontrollably and huddled closer to her for warmth. "N-never called b-back."

"Sam, he's here," Dawn tried again as she gently pushed the damp strands of hair out of Sam's eyes, "I swear to God, he's comin' to get you out of here."

"D-Dean?" H-he's here?" Confusion and panic registered on Sam's haggard features as his gaze darted around the confines of the cold, dark cellar, fearfully searching for any signs of his brother. "D-don't let h-him . . . he hurt . . . Pl-please — " Breath catching in his throat, Sam's body arched upward as he squinched his eyes closed.

"No, Dean's not here," Dawn softly soothed, hating herself all-the-more for having to continue lying to Sam. She hadn't been with the Father on his two subsequent visits to see Sam, but from Sam's reaction, Dawn knew the Father had used Sam's growing fear of his brother to his full advantage. From what she could tell, there were no new bruises or injuries on Sam's body, and she guessed at this point there really didn't need to be. Sam was so broken, inwardly as well as outwardly, that the Father only needed to play on Sam's irrational fears to get what he wanted from him.

At the sound of someone clearing their voice, she glanced up and saw the Father leaning against the doorway of the cell with his arms crossed. His face was somewhat hidden in the shadows, but she could clearly see the disapproving frown etched into his hawk-like features.

"You paint a beautiful picture of an angel watching over a fallen man, Morning Dawn." The Father smiled, although it didn't reach the depths of his cold blue eyes. "You wouldn't be by any chance thinking of betraying the trust I placed in you?"

"No," Dawn hastily responded as she bravely looked him in the eyes. A tremor of fear coursed the length of her spine, her stomach flip-flopping violently as she wondered how long he'd been standing there, and just what he might have overheard. "You know I would never think to betray you, Father."

"Of all my children, I love you the most. You know that." His frown deepened into a scowl as he gestured toward her bandaged hand. "And you have no idea how profoundly it would hurt me if I was forced to have to punish you again."

"I swear I was just doing as you told me to do," she lied effortlessly, and inwardly cringed when she felt Sam tense in her arms.

"So you've drugged him then?" The Father moved into the cell, crouched beside her, and lifted her chin so she was looking him squarely in the eyes. "I have to ask this because to me, he really doesn't seem drugged, an' those were the specific orders I gave to you."

"No, I hadn't yet," she hesitated for a moment, trying to think of a plausible reason for not doing as the Father had commanded, but couldn't think of anything. "I . . . well, I — "

"I stopped h-her," Sam hissed through clenched teeth as he made a conscious effort to forcefully push himself away from Dawn.

Though Sam wasn't strong enough to pull off the effect he'd been hoping for, Dawn realized what he was doing and propelled herself backward into the bars of the cell. A small cry of pain slipped past her lips as her head collided with the cold unforgiving metal, and through partially squinted eyes she noticed the Father smile.

"Huh, I see you still have some fight left in you, boy. Really thought your brother would've beaten that out of you by now."

The Father held out his hand to Dawn, and she reluctantly pulled the vial of heroin along with the needle out of her pocket and gave them to him. Afraid to witness what new evil the Father had in store for Sam, Dawn stood to leave, but the older man grabbed hold of her hand, effectively putting a stop to her plans.

"Not yet, Morning Dawn. I want you here with me."

"Father, I have to go to work," she said in protest, hoping he would understand and let her go, but his grip only tightened around her fingers in response.

"Work can wait." He filled the syringe, jabbed the needle into Sam's arm, and squeezed the heroin into the younger man's vein.

Whether Sam was too weak or his need for the drug too great, he didn't even try to fight the Father. An audible sigh of relief issued past Sam's trembling lips as he closed his eyes, his pain momentarily forgotten as the heroin took hold of him.

"Tell Dawn how you killed our mother, Sam," the Father said in a low crisp voice as he ground his balled fist into Sam's injured back, and Sam let out a cry of pain. "Tell her how she died because of you."

"Dea . . . pl-ple-ase," Sam begged, tears rolling down his cheek as he squirmed under the Father's cruel touch.

"Tell her about your visions. How you can see people dying before it happens," The Father continued to taunt as he dug his fist deeper into Sam's back. "Tell her how many people have died because of you . . . make her understand how evil you truly are."

"I d-didn't . . . wasn't m-my — "

"Your fault," the Father cut him off, a cruel smirk twisting on his lips. "Our mother died because of you. Dad took off and left us because of you. He knows you're evil. He says you're worse than any demon. So why don't you just freakin' admit it."

Dawn clenched her fists, fighting the overwhelming urge to gather Sam into her arms and protect him from the Father. She knew the Father was testing her, and to show any outward sign of caring toward Sam now would mean the end for any hope of escape. Schooling her features, she feigned a smile when the older man glanced in her direction, and prayed that he wouldn't notice the unshed tears shimmering in her eyes. For a moment, the Father seemed puzzled by her reaction, but then grinned in approval.

"How many more people need to die because of you?" the Father pressed onward, wielding his words like the sharpest of swords. "You're evil . . . have always been evil since the day you were born. Always leaving me to pick up the pieces. I'm done, Sam. Let the Yellow-Eyed sonuvabitch take you. You deserve to rot in Hell."

Dawn bit down hard on her lower lip in an attempt to keep from crying out as she watched how the Father words cut deeply into Sam. Although she didn't understand what any of it meant, she had a feeling the Father had learned everything he was saying from Sam, and was twisting it until it did the worst possible damage.

"You killed Jessica. She loved you, and you let her die. You selfish bastard." Sam clutched the sides of his head, trying to cover his ears so he wouldn't have to hear anymore, but the Father voice grew louder in response. "You're evil, Sam. A manipulative self-righteous bastard who only really cares about yourself."

"Please . . . st-stop, Dea . . . ." Sam's voice trailed off as he choked on a sob. He pushed himself backwards into the far corner of the cell, trying to escape from the constant barrage of hateful words.

"Dad told me that he'd wished you had died in the fire. Wished that he never thrust you into my arms, and ordered me to save you. His wife is dead because of you. Our mother is dead because of you."

"N-no . . . n-not true," Sam's fingers curled tightly around his hair as he shook his head. "Not m-my fault."

"Who's fault is it then, Sam," the Father moved closer to Sam, leaned in and whispered, "we were happy before you were born. Dad was happy. Mom was alive. Then you came along an' everything changed. You brought evil into our home. You're no better than a demon, an' deserve to die like one."

Dawn backed away, sliding along the bars of the cell until she was at the entrance. Although she knew the door was open, she knew there was no means of escape for her, but she desperately needed to be away from the pain she felt in her heart for Sam. He was breaking right before her eyes, and she could do nothing to stop it from happening. The Father was pushing all the right buttons to push Sam right over the edge, and she was following him off the cliff.

"Dea . . . please . . . d-don't," Sam begged as he looked into the Father's cold unrelenting eyes. "I-I didn't . . . I'm not — "

"You're evil. Admit it . . . Admit it, and then die so we can all be happier."

"Sam," Dawn said in a breathless whisper as he glanced up at her. "Please don't give in, I love you," she mouthed the words, but wasn't sure he'd noticed or understood even if he had.

"How many more people need to die before you admit what you truly are." The Father pushed Sam backward against the bars of the cell, and a scream burst from the younger man's mouth. Pinned there by the older man's arm, Sam writhed in pain. Tears streamed down Sam's cheeks as the Father pressed all his weight into him, grounding his injured back into the cold steel.

"I-I'm evil . . . e-evil . . . I'm evil," Sam repeated over and over again, his eyes wild with pain and heartbreak. His fingers curled even tighter around his hair as he continued to shake his head. "I-I'm evil . . . I'm evil . . . I'm evil . . . ."

"See, that wasn't so tough." The Father stood, strode to Dawn, grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her out of the cell. "Come, Morning Dawn, you have to be getting to work."

Slamming the cell door shut, the Father glanced back at Sam and smiled. Anything the Father might have said to her as he led her out of the cellar was drowned out by the sound of Sam's broken voice, uttering the same words over and over again. The crazed man had done his worst, and now Sam was hopelessly lost to her, and she didn't know if she could bring him back. The only thing she did know for certain was that if John didn't come to break them out of there tonight, she would find a way to do it herself.