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"Shove it," Sam growled as he spit blood out of the corner of his mouth.

"Wrong answer." A swift punch was delivered to Sam's ribcage.

"Let's try this again, Sammy," The demon circled Sam.

"Are you going to help us or not?"

Sam remained silent.

The demon took a sharp blade from off of his tray of torture and brought it to Sam's forearm. After applying a bit of pressure a thin line of blood was drawn from elbow to wrist. The demon then cut into his own palm and squeezed the blood out onto Sam's wound.

"What are you doing!?"

"Oh, Sammy. I'm just finishing what was started years ago." The demon smiled and walked away leaving Sam bound and bleeding in an empty room. Before closing the door behind him he turned and added, "You know, I'm kind of glad that you are choosing the hard way. It's more fun."

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"Thirsty." Sam managed to whisper, and as soon as he did Dean was up and on his way to the bathroom to get his brother a drink.

Knowing this would be Dean's immediate response, Sam rolled up and reached for a long sleeve shirt in his duffle on the edge of his bed. He pulled it over his head just as Dean returned with the water.

"Sammy! Just stay down, relax." Dean handed his brother the glass and watched intently as his brother took a few sips.

"Thanks."

They sat in a silence, both having so much to say but not wanting to say it.

"I don't know what happened in there. But I'm fine Dean, I promise."

"Fine? Sammy," Dean took the glass from his brother's hand and set it on the nightstand, "Are you going to pretend I didn't see what I just saw?"

"I just got a little dizzy."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"I know." Sam lowered his head allowing his long hair to fall into place nearly covering his eyes.

"But not now Dean, we need to focus on finding Dad. After he's safe we'll have plenty of time to talk about…whatever."

"It's not just 'whatever' Sam, I need to know you're ok."

"I'm ok!" Sam nudged Dean in an attempt to swing his legs off of the bed.

Dean moved out of the way and watched as Sam stood and started zipping up his duffle.

"Now can we get out of here?" Sam threw the straps over his shoulder. It stung a bit as the bag hit one of his fresher wounds but he made an effort to show no signs of pain.

"Some of those marks looked pretty raw."

Sam made his way to the door.

"I'm fine."

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Time seemed to drag on and on as the brothers sped down the highway in silence. Finally, Dean couldn't take it any longer.

"Any clue as to where in Raton dad could be?" Dean asked, for no other reason than to attempt a conversation.

Sam shrugged, offering no suggestions. His headache was getting worse and worse but he didn't want to pop a pill in front of his brother. Just as he was about to pull himself out his stubborn silence to ask about a rest stop they passed a sign telling them they were only 10 miles away from their destination. He could wait ten more miles.

The Impala rolled to a stop in yet another motel parking lot.

"I'll grab the room." Sam informed his brother as they came to a stop.

"Wait," Dean pleaded with a bit too much eagerness in his voice, "I'll come with you."

Sam wasn't sure if he was annoyed or comforted by his brother's separation issues. It had been so long since he'd dealt with it, and to be honest it had usually been the other way around.

Together they got a room. Together they started researching possible hide-outs for the vengeful demons. Together they decided food would help.

"Don't worry Dean. I'll keep the door locked and only open on your knock."

Dean smiled a bit as he remembered the knock he used to use to signal a safe return to Sammy. It had been ages since he'd used it.

"Just come with me man, we could both use some fresh air." Dean already knew just by the look on Sam's face that he wasn't leaving the room.

"It's faster this way. Just grab whatever and I'll keep searching. We gotta find Dad before…" Sam cast his eyes down to the ground.

"We'll find him." Dean threw on his jacket, "I'll be back in ten. Don't go anywhere, don't open the door, and – "

"Dean. Go." Sam couldn't help smiling as he watched his worried older brother leave for a food run. As soon as the door closed Sam was up and sifting through his duffle. After a few seconds of searching he was starting to panic a little. He had packed the pills hadn't he? Where were they? His personal effects where scattered on the bed but the pills were no where in sight.

"It's ok. I'll be fine." Sam said aloud to calm his nerves.

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Sam glanced at the dusty clock again. It had only been four minutes? That clock must be broken.

He reached for the flimsy paperback on the bed. He had always believed that it was more than luck that the book he happened to be reading when he was taken was "Of Mice and Men." Reading about the tragic friendship had brought him a lot of comfort through some of his darker days. Good old George and Lenny.

Sam couldn't help his eyes from wandering back over to the clock. Four and a half minutes. This wasn't going to work. He needed those pills, or at least the next best thing.

He hated what he was about to do, but he had no other choice. Sam grabbed his pocketknife off of the bed and went to the bathroom. It took a minute to work up enough gall to make his next move. He brought the knife to his forearm and applied just enough pressure to draw blood.

It wasn't pure and he wasn't sure if it even had enough of a trace of demon blood in it, but he had to try.

It was enough, but it didn't last for long. A familiar knock broke his bloody feast.

He quickly pocketed the knife and pulled his sleeve down before hustling over to the door.

"They didn't have a whole lot in the way of rabbit food. I know that's what you prefer. But you'll have to live with a BLT." Dean plopped the bags of food down onto the sticky table.

Turning his attention to Sam, Dean was quick to notice a blood stain on his brother sleeve.

"What happened?" Dean asked, reaching for the arm.

Sam recoiled, cursing himself for wearing gray instead of black, "Nothing."

"Blood means something Sammy. What happened?" Dean was a bit more forceful this time as he grabbed his brother's wrist and pushed the sleeve up. Sam tried to pull away but he was still pretty weak.

Dean made note of the burn marks, old scar tissue, and what appeared to be a poorly tattooed roman numeral, but it was the clean straight bloody cut about two inches in length that received the most attention.

"Sam?"

Sam stood silent. How was he supposed to explain this? Luckily, he didn't have to.

Dean's ringing phone cut through the silence. Dean made no move for it.

"You gonna get that?"

As much as Dean wanted to let it go to voicemail, the little voice in his head begged him to check it. Without loosening his grip on Sam, he checked the phone. It was their dad.

"Dad?"

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SORRY this took forever to put up! I'm lame. But I'll be more on top of updating.

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