AN: So yeah… It's been way more than two weeks, yikes! Anyways hope the long wait was worth it!

Warnings: Dean has quite the mouth on him this chapter and also has some very disturbing thoughts...


"Wake up!"

Dean groaned as he felt a sharp stinging sensation on his cheek, and then John's gruff voice ringing in his ears. He was a bit disoriented, trying to recall what has happened, what was going on. His first thoughts were on his little brother and if Sammy was okay. Slowly opening his eyes and staring back into those of John Winchester's everything started to come back like a rush and Dean's head hurt recounting it all.

"Good, you're awake. You know, I always did tell you not to sleep in. Have you been a bad boy while I've been gone, Dean? Throwing everything I told you out the window?" John questions him coyly, though they both know he isn't the real the John, that he's just some shifter taking pleasure in fucking with the boy's heads.

But then it occurred to Dean. He wasn't on the hard, stiff, floor. No, he was on the lumpy motel bed and that had him panicking. Sam! He felt his heart racing in his chest, hammering so hard that his chest ached and he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he tried to figure out where the hell the shifter had put his little brother.

"Where the fuck is my little brother, you son of a bitch?" Dean hisses as he struggles, futilely against the ropes, knowing the binding is too tight. He strains against them, pulling at them and thrashing around, looking around the room, trying to find his brother and suddenly when he does see him, his heart shatters.

Seeing Sammy in the corner, bound and gagged, a bloody mess, literally. He doesn't seem coherent, and Dean is almost certain he's shaking and probably whimpering, though if he is, the sounds are too soft to be heard. His gut wrenches with guilt, he should have known immediately it wasn't Dad, he should have been able to protect them both, but he hadn't, he had been taken off guard and now it was Sam that had to suffer. Dean could care less what the shape shifter did to him, he just knew that as soon as he got out of this mess, he had one more creature he was going to fuck up, and he was going to take his time, nice and slow…

"Sammy says hi by the way." John says condescendingly as he stared down at Dean, who's now staring back up at him with a glare in his eyes and he's way beyond pissed. Dean's making a promise to himself, promising he's going to get them out of this somehow, that he's going to kill this shifter and get himself and Sam someplace safe so they can recover—

"Fuck!" Dean growls out as John drags the knife along his abs, feeling the hot, stinging of his flesh ripping apart and his blood surfacing, oozing from the flesh wound, watching as it pools down to his navel, wondering if their situation could really get any fuckin' worse.

"You know, I would do more to you, Champ, but you know, whatever I do to you, it's obvious you do it so much worse in your head. But you know what the best part is?" He questions Dean, and waiting a beat before continuing on, enjoying his games. "Little Sammy here won't be able to look at Daddy when he comes home to find this mess."

Dean knows he's right. Sam isn't in a good state of mind and he knows if the real John were to walk right through that door Sam would shy away from his touch and cower in fear. Who could blame him? He's only been torturing his little brother for how long, and who knows what kind of stuff happened while he was out. A shiver runs up Dean's spine just thinking about it and he hopes to God himself what he's thinking didn't happen to his little brother, especially from some monster that looks like their Dad.

It's all kinds of wrong, but more importantly if it did happen it only gave Dean that much more reason to get him and Sam out of here and to a place where they could be safe. He grunts as he feels another drag of the blade of the knife along his flesh, but he isn't paying attention to the shape shifter's monologue. He's trying to figure out how long it would take for John's check up call on them and how long it would take him to get back. He realizes by the time all is said and done, he and Sam are screwed and probably dead or bleeding to death. It looks grim for himself and Sam, but Dean Winchester is not the type to just roll over and die, especially when Sammy's life is on the line.

But Dean looks over to the clock and a smirk graces his lips as he sees what time it is. A lot of time has passed since John had left this morning to now. The shifter cocks his head to the side, looking to Dean curiously. "What'cha smirkin' about boy?" He bellows in his bass tone of voice.

"It's a surprise." Dean says before chuckling humorlessly after he let the words roll right off of his tongue, enjoying the picture as he watches the shifter internally thing about what's going on, about his whole plan. It's unfamiliar to Dean because John, the real John, is so much better at hiding his emotions and his plan that seeing it as clear as day on his face is so unreal to him. He sees the anger return to the shifter's face, and that part is all too familiar on John's face. He braces himself though as he watches him swing his arm out and then… Everything went black.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

"Dean."

He could barely hear the words of his father's low base voice as he struggled to wake.

"C'mon son, you need to get up."

Hearing a bit more urgency in his father's voice, Dean groans in protest as he manages to crack one eye open, and then another.

"Ungh…" He grunts as he tries to focus, his vision blurry at first, but then he remembers the situation he was in and he pulls at his arm, surprised when his arm flings over his chest, though a sharp spark of pain igniting through it. "Fuck!" He growls as he gingerly moves his other hand to hold his arm still. He winces slightly when his hand meets the stickiness of his blood, but looking up he sees John and instinctively backs up on the bed away from him.

"Dean, it's me, son."

"S-Sam… Where's Sam." He says looking around the room, his thoughts shifting to his brother, needing to get to him but then looking back to John. He needs to know it's really John. He looks over John's shoulder and he sees the shifter on the ground, dead in a messy pile. He frowns; he really wanted to tear that son of a bitch apart. It's like John knows what he's thinking as he rests a hand on Dean's good shoulder.

"It wouldn't have done anyone any good son." He says calmly before adding on, "'Sides, Sammy needs you Dean. He won't leave that corner, won't let me get near enough to cut him free." John says before nodding towards Sam's direction. "Fuck." Dean hisses as he propels himself up on his knees, the quick movement making him wobble, dizzy.

Regaining composure he gets up, seeing John take out his small silver boot knife and handing it to him, Dean holding it low and out of site as he slowly approaches Sam. He watches as his little brother cowers back into the corner, his chest aching once more as he nears close enough to hear the muffled whimpers emanating from his brother's throat. His throat was thick with guilt as he nears closer reaching in slowly for the ropes.

"I'm sorry Sammy… I'm so fuckin' sorry man." He says softly, swallowing thickly as he cuts the ropes off, setting the knife on the ground and sliding it away, seeing his brother ease just a little at the gesture. He can't help but notice Sam is shaking as he reaches in, noticing Sam cowering back. "I know Sammy but lemme get this gag off ya, okay?" He says softly as he leans in further to untie the gag, feeling his brother fighting and thrashing against him. He hisses in pain, finally managing to get the gag off.

"Fuck little brother… Sammy?" He questions as he places a strong hand on Sam's shoulder, pulling his brother close and into his chest, feeling him thrash around and fighting him still. "Sammy it's me…" He grunts out, not able to help it because of the pain that Sam is inducing upon him. He starts rubbing small circles on Sam's bare back, a soothing gesture he's done since they were kids and he can feel Sam relaxing under his touch, not fighting him anymore.

"I gotcha Sammy… Son of a bitch is dead, not touchin' ya ever again." He says softly, grimacing as he pulls one hand up, seeing it covered in blood. He resumes the gesture, just trying to keep Sam calm and he looks to his father over his own shoulder, craning his neck.

"Get Sammy dressed; we need to get some place safe." John commands to his son, as if nothing had happened, as if this was an ordinary day. Dean scowls at his father, shaking his head. "Sammy's beat to hell and who knows what that fucker did to him… We need a hospital…" He breathes out, and as much as Dean hates to admit it, he knows it's where they need to be. Sam needs to be checked out, and Dean knew he could use some patching up as well.

He watches as John heaves a heavy sigh, no doubt knowing that Dean is right. "Fine," He grunts before reaching over and grabbing their duffle bags together. "Get him ready, I throw the shit in the car and have it pulled around." He mutters before grabbing their things together and heading out the door.

"C'mon Sammy, I gotcha… Gonna get'cha cleaned up a bit and dressed… This way…" Dean says soothingly as he tries to heave Sam up and towards the bathroom. His knees buckle though and they both fall back down, both hissing in pain. "Sammy, I need your help." He says softly as he tries again, though this time he can feel Sam helping him because there's less weight on him, and together, Dean manages to get them both into the bathroom.


AN: Yikes, poor Sammy! And poor Dean, not getting the chance to rip apart that shifter.