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Disclaimer: Don't own those dashing Winchesters.

mentions of torture in this chapter and most likely in a lot of the chapters to follow...can't remember what I rated this so just a heads up

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"Raton?" Dean stepped inside of the cage and it made his blood boil, thinking of his little brother rotting away, locked up like an animal.

Dean followed his brothers line of sight to the name scratched into one of the bars.

"How do you know this is for us and not just some random town or word?"

"I just know."

Sam's bloody, bare, chest hit the cement floor with a thud. Claire sat in corner of the cage and watched as her new cellmate raised himself from the ground.

"Just stay down," she whispered, but to no avail. Sam pushed with all his might and in a short time was up on his feet, nostrils flaring and eyes beating into the demon who stood at the door of his cage.

The demon smiled and flashed his black eyes, "Enjoy hell."

"You won't know the meaning of hell until I'm finished with you."

The demon threw his head back and laughed, "Might want to check which side of the bars you're on."

Before he could contain himself, a glob of spit went sailing out of his mouth and into the demons eyes. Expecting an immediate punishment Sam flung himself backwards and down to the ground,

The demon wasn't laughing anymore, but the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile as he wiped the spit away, "Don't worry, we'll get to lessons on manners later today. For now…just think about which methods of torture could be inflicted with nothing more than a dull kitchen knife and a staple gun."

Claire watched for the new guy's reaction and was surprised when it wasn't fear, terror, or apathy. Instead it was anger. Pure anger.

The next few hours were spent in silence as Sam paced the cage. He was mapping out as much of the room as he could see through the dim lighting. Finally, after coming to terms with the fact that he would have to wait a bit longer before an escape opportunity would arise, Sam sat down in the corner opposite Claire.

That was when he realized that there was somebody else in the same cage as him.

"Oh. Uh, hey. 'M Sam."

There was nothing funny about the situation but Claire couldn't stop herself from letting a little laugh escape, "That was a nice awkward introduction."

She ducked her head and tucked a piece of ash blonde hair behind her ear, "Claire."

"So you think this girl, Claire, left this for us?" Dean asked.

"I'm sure of it."

"Looks like we're going to Raton then."

Sam nodded and waited for his brother to turn and begin walking before he pulled out a pill and popped it into the back of his throat.

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Dean couldn't stand it anymore. They had been driving for and hour and a half and Sam hadn't uttered a single word.

"Still thinking about it?"

"What?" Sam asked, confused.

"That place. You've been in a daze since we left."

"Mmh." Sam turned to look his attention to the scenery but Dean knew it wasn't because of the fascinating plant life along the road.

"How long have you been here?" Sam asked a few minutes following their brief and admittedly awkward introduction.

"A couple of months… I think," Claire sighed, "after a while you begin to lose track of day, night, week, month, and I'm sure even years."

"It's Tuesday night. November second," Sam offered. He watched as Claire did some mental math.

"A little over three months." Claire smiled and then quickly covered her mouth with a bloody hand.

Sam nodded and tried to play it cool, act as if he hadn't seen an absence in her front teeth. But his silence made it obvious that he had witnessed her deformity.

"They told me if I acted up they would make me so ugly that no boy would ever love me…I guess I should have believed them."

"No!" Sam almost shouted. "No don't you ever believe a word that comes out of these dirtbags. They're liars."

Claire was going to respond but the conversation was interrupted the sound of footsteps drawing near.

"Sam, right? Look, if it's you they're here for, just take my advice. Do what they say. It makes it a lot easier for you."

Sam smiled, he could feel the genuine concern in Claire's voice, but he was a Winchester, and that meant that he couldn't be a demons chew toy.

"I never was one to take the easy way."

When Sam snapped back into reality he couldn't believe how much time had passed. He had been gazing out the window and yet hadn't realized that the daylight had faded into darkness.

"We'll stop here for tonight." Dean stated as they pulled into yet another dumpy motel parking lot.

Twenty minutes later they were checked in and lying in bed.

"G'night Sammy."

"Night."

Sam knew it wasn't going to be a good night. He could feel the pressure building in his head. He waited patiently until he heard the steady breathing of a sleeping Dean. Once he was certain that the coast was clear Sam slinked into the bathroom, closed the door and turned on the light.

Six pills left. Six.

He had tried to pace himself but he was running out fast.

After some internal debate he decided that tonight it wasn't necessary, he could deal with the pain. It wasn't like this was his first encounter with pain, and if he could just make the pills last a little longer then he wouldn't have to go through withdrawals. He never wanted to go through that again.

Sam lowered himself into his bed, but he couldn't help the squeaking mattress.

"S'm?"

Sam remained silent waiting to see if Dean was actually speaking to him or speaking out of a sleepy delirium.

Minutes passed. Yep, sleep talking.

The next morning Dean awoke and found himself in an empty room. He listened for the sound of the shower but heard nothing.

He flung the covers off of his bed and strode to the bathroom.

"Sammy!?"

No answer.

"Sam!"

The door was locked. After a few seconds of pounding, Dean did what any extremely over protective big brother/demon hunter would do. He kicked down the door, and as soon as he did he almost wished that he hadn't. He didn't like what he was seeing. Not at all.

In one swift motion Dean was down at his unconscious brothers side.

Sam was cold to the touch but Dean could see the sweat rolling off of his body.

His brain was in overload as he tried to process what he was seeing. His brothers upper body was exposed and he couldn't even begin to count the scars that consumed nearly every inch of flesh.

"Sam?" his voice was only a whisper now.

Dean scooped up his little, ok maybe not so little anymore, brother and laid him on his bed. Dean tried to stay focused on the current need his brother had but he couldn't stop his mind from wondering about all of the wounds his brother was sporting. Some were faded and had clearly healed years ago, other's had a fresh red ring of infection still lingering around.

Sammy would have some explaining to do when he woke up. All of their lives together, Dean had expected Sam to report any injury to him. Of course, that wasn't always the case but Dean would always find out and get his chance to do his Florence Nightingale thing.

Sam released a weak moan.

"Hey, that's right, c'mon Sammy. Rise and shine." Dean tried to hide the fear in his voice. "You've had enough beauty sleep."

Sam mumbled something inaudible.

"What?" Dean leaned in close to hear his brother.

"Jerk."

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