AN: This chapter would have been up a little sooner today if my cat didn't insist upon snuggling me. Thanks to all followers and favourites out there, it always helps! Hope you enjoy the final chapter!

Sam wasn't sure how he was alive. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be. It seemed that he'd lost more blood than possible over these past two or three days. Maybe the demons were performing some kind of ritual to keep him from dying, he didn't know, but he didn't really care either. It wasn't like he was appreciative in the slightest.

Honestly, the only thing he was even relatively grateful for was the fact that Crowley had no intention of killing him. At least not anytime soon.

By now, Sam had learned the schedule. Demons would come in, torture him until he passed out or long enough to gather plenty of blood. He'd come to in time to see Crowley practically dying of- and it grossed Sam to see it that way, but- ecstasy. Then Crowley would leave him be for about two hours to recover, then the cycle would start again.

So when four demons entered the room almost immediately after Crowley had left, Sam knew something was up, and there was no way it was going to be good.

"Our King's been acting a little different lately." One of them announced.

"Keeping Winchesters as pets?" Another said as it shook its head.

"And the way he'd punishing those who step out of line." The third whistled. "It's a thing of demonic beauty."

"But we can't help thinking," The first one interjected. "That your blood's got something to do with it."

"So," The second continued. "We decided we'd give it a little taste ourselves."

Now, Sam and Crowley weren't friends, even allies was a bit of a stretch. But the one thing that had kept Sam sane throughout this whole ordeal was that Crowley was leaving him alive. Sam didn't have faith that these for demons had the same courtesy.

He felt his eyes widening as they drew nearer, and in a fit of desperation he started to call out for the one person who might actually be willing to show him some mercy. "Crow-!"

But then a hand clamping over his mouth sealed his fate.

The far too toothy smile gleamed in the poorly lit hell Sam was currently trapped in, and he panted air in and out of his nose against the hand muffling him. He hated it, but he was scared right now. Very scared.

When he felt four sets of lips and teeth close around his many wounds, he didn't even try not to scream.

Coming down from the high was always disappointing, and often times, somewhat painful. It seemed that the more hits Crowley had, the harder the loss of the high felt.

The end of his current high started off with a ringing, a loud one. He was ready to kill whoever was making that bloody sound before he realised that it was his cell phone. 'Not Moose' flashed across the screen.

This was nowhere near the first time Dean Winchester had called Crowley within the past three days, but Crowley decided to cut the lad a break, and actually picked up this time.

"Squirrel."

"Now you listen here, Crowley," Came Dean's voice from the other end, filled with ire. "Whether you give Sam back or not, I swear to God, I will kill you for this!"

Crowley chucked. "Well then good luck getting your special blade back."

"What are you doing to him right now?"

"None of your business, and all of mine. Don't worry, he's still alive."

"Let me talk to him." If Crowley wasn't mistaken, there was almost a hint of a plea behind the request.

"And why should I let you do that?"

"Because I'm ask-" Crowley could practically hear Dean swallowing his pride. "Because I'm begging you, Crowley. Let me talk to Sam."

The boy sure knew how to grovel. That was always such an admirable quality according to Crowley. "Fine." He slipped the phone to speaker-mode, and held it at his side as he set out for Sam's room.

Having reached what should have been an empty room, Crowley's stomach dropped when he heard Sam screaming from the other side of the door. He hurriedly swung it open, and recoiled at the sight before him.

Four demons, four demons of his own demons had clearly been sampling Sam's blood for themselves, and were currently experimenting with their newfound abilities.

Crowley watched one flick a hand, and Sam's body lurched up as his mouth went open with a strangled gasp. Crowley could actually see Sam's kneecap pop through his skin. Sure, Crowley wasn't squeamish in the slightest, especially when it came for torture, but for some reason, this just wasn't as fun to watch.

Unaware of Crowley's presence, the demons continued their torture. One laid a hand on Sam's uninjured leg, but that changed with a small jerk of its wrist. The crack would have echoed loudly in the room if it hadn't been overpowered by Sam's scream.

The scream died on a broken and terrified moan from their victim. "Pl-please..."

"Sam!"

Oh, bullocks, Dean was still on the phone!

Crowley knew he could get away with a lot of things. Taking Bobby Singer's soul as insurance, working with Raphael, kidnapping and torturing Kevin, hell, even killing all the people the Winchesters had ever saved, but the one thing the Winchesters would never be able to look past would be letting one of them die.

Being on Sam's bad side was one thing. He'd give a bitchface or five, maybe throw a few hurtful words. If it was really bad, he might just kill you.

Dean Winchester on the other hand, he won't just kill you, he'd make you beg for it first. It didn't take much to make Dean angry, but Crowley knew the one thing that would be the closest thing to suffering the wrath of God himself would be facing Dean should Sam die by his hand.

In a nutshell, when Crowley said that Dean didn't scare him, he was lying.

Crowley clicked the phone off, and without even making his presence known, he snapped his fingers, and he didn't miss how the action made Sam flinch in anticipation. But the snap wasn't for him, instead all the demons suddenly burst into flames, burning all the way down to bone until nothing remained, allowing smoldering flecks of skin to float to the ground like autumn leaves.

Hurrying over to Sam, Crowley couldn't help but let his eyes linger on all the fresh blood on Sam's body. He quickly remembered what was at stake should he let Sam die, and started undoing the straps pinning Sam down.

A pained groan was all Sam could give in response.

"You can't trust anyone these days." Crowley muttered angrily. "Open your eyes, Sam."

Sam only winced and curled in on himself as much as he could before he gasped in pain when his many injuries were feeling neglected and demanded attention.

There was no way Crowley would be able to deliver Sam back to Dean like this without getting himself killed. Unless...

Hoping he had guessed correctly, he scanned Sam's chest for a new anti-possession tattoo to replace the one Castiel had burnt off. Upon not finding one, Crowley sighed in relief.

"Sorry for this, Moose. It's better for both of us this way." Crowley opened his usual meatsuit's mouth, and then slipped out in a stream of red smoke, and headed right into Sam.

Now safe and sound inside Sam's body, Crowley sat up and flexed Sam's fingers, regretting it instantly when he realised some were broken. With the ones that weren't, Crowley grabbed his phone and called Dean again. It barely rang even once before the infuriated voice started shouting at him.

"You son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill you for hurting him! You hear me, Crowley?! I will hunt your ass down! Screw the damn blade, Abbadon can have your damn throne! You're gonna pay for this!"

"Are you finished?" Crowley missed the familiar accent of his old vessel.

"Sam? How are you-" There was a pause as everything clicked inside of Dean's head. "Get the hell out of my brother, Crowley!"

"Afraid not, Dean. You won't dare hurt me so long as I have Sam as my meatshield."

"You motherf-!"

"If you could stop yelling for three seconds," Crowley interrupted. "You would be very happy to hear that I'm giving your gigantor back."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because I rather enjoy not being dead. I'm sending you an address, meet me there and Sam is yours. But do hurry, even with me riding him I'm not sure he'll last too long." He had chosen those words very carefully just to further unnerve Dean.

"Crowley!"

With a chuckle, Crowley hung up. Forgetting the broken leg, Crowley stood up only to instantly collapse on the floor.

"Bloody hell!" He brushed himself off. "How does Moose walk with these stupid things?"

Giving a huff, Crowley snapped and beamed himself to the location he'd texted Dean. Landing was far from pleasant, and Crowley saw no point in moving, so he just stayed on the ground, wanting Dean to show up soon because this was rather boring.

"D-on't 'ur' 'im." A voice in his head said. A familiar voice. Sam? Oh, how cute, he was fighting.

"Come again, Moose?"

"Don't you- dare h-hurt Dean."

Typical. Even after days of torture and relatively close to death, Sam's concern was still for his brother rather than himself. "Calm down, I'm not hurting anyone right now. Just getting you back without putting my own life on the line."

"Wh-why?"

"Your brother's an angry one, as you well know, and I'd prefer Abbadon be the one who has to suffer through it."

"H-he's not gonna l-let this go."

"He will if he ever wants to get his hands on that blade again."

"I hate you."

"Sticks and stones, Moose." Crowley then heard a door creak open. "Looks like we've got company."

"Alright," Dean announced. "I'm here. No tricks, I just want my brother back, Crowley." It took all Dean had not to run over and start beating 'Crowley's' face in. He had considered it up until he'd seen how wrecked Sam looked. Sam was tough though, Dean knew he would've been able to take a few punches had he decided to teach Crowley a quick lesson.

"He's all yours. As is the blade once you know where to find Abbadon. Until next time, Squirrel." Crowley opened Sam's jaw and slipped out. He was not looking forward to his second round of detoxing, but he decided it was better than being dead.

"Sam!" Dean yelled as he watched his brother crumple to the ground, and he rushed to his side. He scanned Sam's injuries quickly, trying to decide what required immediate attention. After a quick assessment, it looked like all of them did, which meant hospital. Dammit.

"Don't suppose you can move, can you?"

Sam shot him a bitchface accompanied with a groan.

"Didn't think so." Dean took out his phone and dialed 911. Once he got all the usual BS out, he ended the call. "I'll make him pay for this, I swear."

Sighing, Sam closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear Dean swearing vengeance right now. That's not what Dean's supposed to do when Sam's hurting. Dean's supposed to tell him that he's gonna be fine, it isn't even that bad. Sam knew that they would have been lies, but that's what Winchesters do. They lie to one another to make the other feel safe, that's how it's always been.

But not since the mark. Don't even make Sam go into detail about that empty rage in Dean's eyes when he had killed Magnus. That wasn't even Dean.

Wanting to hide from the pain and troubling thoughts for a while, Sam allowed his mind to slip away from the present. He wanted- needed Dean to tell him to keep his eyes open, but Dean didn't seem to care, and very quickly, Sam passed out once more.

Someone was shaking him, but not very gently though. "Sam. Sam, c'mon, we gotta move."

That sounded like- "Dean?" Sam opened his eyes, and even without the lights on, he could tell he was in a hospital.

"Yeah. You're all stitched up, fingers back in joint, kneecap's back in place, and your leg's all casted up too. We'll cut it off once we get somewhere safe."

"C-cut my leg off?!"

Damn, what meds did they give him? "The cast, dumbass. C'mon, we're getting you out of here. We gotta find Abbadon, cuz the sooner we do, the sooner I get to put a blade through Crowley's heart."

How could Dean be so unsympathetic right now? Sam had been dying, but all Dean cared about was getting his hands back on that blade, and killing with it.

Still, Sam nodded and tried to lug his gigantic and casted leg off the hospital bed, nearly breaking when Dean showed no interest in assisting him.

Realising how cold and detached Dean was hurt Sam more than anything Crowley and his goons had done to him over the past few days. Sam didn't want to admit it, but he knew.

His brother was fading.

AN: I had no intention of making this story so angst-y at the end, but I remembered how uncaring Dean becomes when he has the Mark and I really wanted to explore that a little more. Hope you enjoyed this story, and if you did, drop a review! Will be writing again soon, but until then, carry on my wayward sons!