CHAPTER 1

"You're going to answer me, or I'm going to have one hell of a fun time killing you, understand me, boy?"

The voice that was shouting in front of him had grown low on patience. He was tired of the smartass comments coming from his latest victim. He didn't get the chance often, but not for the lack of trying. Every now and then he lucked out and found him someone to torture, someone to get information out of.

This time, he had found two someone's. Sure, he really only found the one, but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity when the other arrived, searching to save his prized possession.

The skin on skin smack across his face sent his head flying to the side with a small grunt of pain. His body already ached. More than he could remember it ever hurting before.

He tried to think, but he couldn't. He couldn't remember how he had gotten to where he was at. His wrists were bound by ropes that were cutting through his skin, causing blood to trickle down his arms, dripping from his elbows and armpits onto the floor. The weight of his body had pulled the knots tight. His body swayed in the air around him, barely able to stretch as far as he could and allow his toes to touch the ground, to relieve some pressure from his arms. But, even that seemed pointless anymore. There wasn't much support to be given by the rope that held his wrists to the rafters above him.

Nothing seemed to help relieve the pain, or pressure. In fact, it only increased. He silently wished his captor would follow through on his word. He wished he would just end it all. But, he also wished he could get free, save the one who had come to save him.

He looked over to the other captive. Tears were streaming down his face. He was bound by chains around his ankles and wrists, to a solid brick wall. The chains were attached to bolts that were secured tightly to the wall. A gag was placed in his mouth, pulled so tight he could see the skin beneath it stretched and bruised.

Nothing stopped him from trying to scream. His face beat red from the tension building inside him. The chains didn't stop him from trying to fight and pull himself away from them. His wrists were also starting to bleed from the pressure he was applying to them, trying to get to the one he had come to save.

"I'm going to ask you again, names and locations." The abuser asked with a tone that said he wasn't playing anymore games with the man he had been speaking to.

"Fuck you!" The captive spit out at the man in front of him.

His body had already been beaten, covered in bruises from fists that had slammed into him and steel toe boots that had punished him for shooting off at the mouth. Broken ribs from the club that had more force behind it than it should have. There were cuts that layered his body, the bleeding stopped by the hot metal rod the man kept over the fire.

Some cuts were caused by his knife and some, by the whip he had used as an attempt to push him into submission. After he made the blood run freely, he would press the hot metal to the wounds, stopping the blood from emptying from his body. He said he couldn't have him bleed to death until he got all the information he could get from him.

The damp, dense air was polluted by the screams of the man who refused to fill the captor's request. A knife, slid down his arm, followed by the heat from the metal to stop the bleeding. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils. His body trembled under the increasing pain. His throat was raw from the dryness of dehydration, mixed with the hoarseness from painful screams. But, he refused to give in, he would protect the wanted information with his life.

It was supposed to be a simple hunt. Just your ordinary salt and burn, if you could say there was anything ordinary about digging up a dead body and burning the bones that had rotted in the ground. But, something felt off about this hunt. Years of hunting experience told Dean Winchester to stay far away from this one, but his little brother insisted that it was an easy job, and it had been several weeks since they had a good job, so Dean, reluctantly agreed.

He still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The information they had gathered sent chills down Dean's spine. There had been a few hunters before them, hunters who were damn good. Hunters who had years more experience under their belts than the Winchester brothers. They had attempted and failed. Not only did they fail, but they ended up missing. Completely disappearing. No bodies, no clues, vanished from the earth.

So, that left the question, was it really going to be that simple after all?

Sam insisted it was. He did his research and everything seemed to line up. It didn't take him long to figure out who the spirit was and where they were buried. Dean had tried to get Sam to stay at the motel, he told him he could do this himself, that if others had disappeared he didn't want his brother to be added to the numbers.

Actually, he had tried to talk his brother out of it all together, said the information was too easy to find, that something was off about it, but Sam insisted that he was doing this job, with or without Dean. And, with the feeling welling up inside of the older brother, there was no way he was going to let Sam handle this one alone.

Of course, Sam pouted about how he wasn't a kid anymore, and if Dean was soooo concerned then he should be worried about himself too, so Sam needed to be with him, to protect him.

Dean agreed, not that he had much of a choice. But, he insisted that he would be the one to dig up the grave. He needed Sam to keep watch, in a safe hiding place. He didn't want the spirit to see him, or know he was there. He figured that would be their only defense against something that had taken hunters before them.

They had agreed that if anything happened, if Dean ended up disappearing, that Sam would leave the area. He would keep himself hidden, and take everything he witnessed to find his older brother. He was instructed to go back to the motel and do his research before coming to look for him, there was no point in trying to rescue him without all the necessary information. They knew from experience, no one really ever disappears. They are just taken captive, hidden well enough that no one ever finds them.

They scoped out the area, found a place for Sam to lay low, and Dean started digging. He had gotten about half way down when he started feeling weird. His head started spinning. He felt like he was having difficulty breathing. Spots danced in front of his eyes.

He knew he had drank enough fluids that day, and they had just eaten not too long ago, so he figured it was exhaustion. He hadn't been sleeping too well. He wasn't sure why, it was just something about this job that kept him up at night.

He noticed his hands had started shaking, making it hard to hold onto the shovel, but he couldn't say anything to Sam. He didn't want his brother anywhere near this grave. He didn't even want him anywhere near this hunt. It was mostly dark out, there was still a little light, but not enough that Sam was able to see how much Dean was struggling.

Before Dean realized what had happened, he had collapsed into the hole he was digging. His brain was foggy and couldn't seem to think straight. He tried to get himself out of the hole as claustrophobia started setting in, but he couldn't seem to get his brain to figure out what he was supposed to do in order to get out of there.

Sam kept a close eye on his brother. He couldn't see inside the grave, but started getting concerned when his brother fell into it and hadn't resurfaced. He saw Dean's hand grabbing the edge then slipping back down again. He was just about to leave his hiding spot, and run to help his brother, he had opened his mouth to scream his name, but, before any sound came out he quickly stilled and closed his mouth.

A man had stepped out of the shadows, he was standing beside the grave his brother had dug.

Dean looked up through the fog that was clouding his vision, and mind. He saw a fuzzy outline, of a man. He knew it wasn't his brother, but wasn't sure if it was a real body or a spirit of some kind. The man had reached down, grabbed Dean by his collar and pulled him out of the grave.

Dean's body was shaking, but was lucid, his arms hung limp by his side, his head fell backwards, his legs weren't supporting his weight. The man had pulled him out of the grave and was holding him up by the front of his shirt, at least an inch off the ground. Not that it mattered since Dean's legs weren't holding him up anyhow. Sam could hear a laughter come from the man. One that sounded malicious and evil. He watched in horror as he dragged his brother into the shadows where he had come from.

Sam waited a minute, to be sure the coast was clear and followed the path the man had taken with his brother. It took him longer than he had hoped to find where Dean was being kept, but once he found it, he also found himself stuck in a trap. There was a fog that surrounded him, making him feel lightheaded and unable to concentrate on anything. His lungs felt as heavy as his legs did as he collapsed to the ground.

"Names and locations." The man said again.

Dean gave a small smirk. "Fuck you!" He repeated as his head felt like it was just punched off his shoulders. He was sure he was going to suffer from whiplash when this was all over.

Sam pulled against his chains, screaming under the gag.

"You just think you're so smart, don't you?" The man asked. "You know, you're not the first hunter I've had to deal with. You are all the same. You try to act all big and tough at first, then you end up breaking, giving me the information, I'm wanting. They always do, every single one of you. You're not as tough as you think you are. So how about you save yourself some pain and give me the names and locations of the hunters you know about. I just want to pay them a friendly visit."

The man smiled at Dean, like he was expecting him to believe that anything he had planned was friendly.

"Fuck. You." Dean repeated, gasping between words.

Another punch to the face, followed by the hot metal being pushed into his shoulder. He didn't even bother cutting him first, it was for the pure pleasure of causing him pain, not as a measure to keep him alive.

The air was filled with Dean's screams, once again. And Sam struggled to get to his brother, screaming for the man to stop, under his gag. Dean's screams seemed to weaken every time they were forced out of him.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean huffed out once the hot metal was removed from his burning flesh.

"You ready to give me what I'm asking for now?"

"Go. To. Fucking. Hell." Dean spat out between puffs of breaths.

He could feel his body weakening, but his mind was still strong, and he wouldn't, he couldn't, give this man the information he was asking for. He couldn't just hand over other hunters to him. Their fates would be sealed, they would possibly find themselves in the same place Dean was, or maybe they wouldn't even be given a chance. Just a quick hole in the head.

That would be a lot better than this, Dean thought to himself. Oh, how he would long for a simple hole in his brain compared to this, but then there was Sam. He looked over at his brother, fear in his tear-filled eyes. He was okay. He hadn't been hurt, not yet anyhow, but Dean knew if he wasn't here, then it would be Sam going through this hell. If Dean allowed himself the pleasure of unconsciousness, his brother would pay for it. If he didn't keep fighting, then Sam would soon find himself in the fight of his life.

NO, Dean wouldn't let that happen, as long as he could help it, as long as he was still able, he would protect his little brother. That had always been his job. It was the one thing that never changed in his life, the one thing he would die doing. It was the most important thing.

'Bring it on' Dean's brain told the man in front of him. He was thankful that he only said it in his mind, because his body didn't feel as strong. His body didn't want anymore of this punishment. His body was screaming at his mind to shut up.

The man noticed the change in Dean's demeanor. "Do you like this?" He chuckled.

Dean clenched his jaw, not giving the man the satisfaction of receiving an answer. Even his 'fuck you' was off the table now. He was no longer going to respond to him with words. No longer going to give him a response to anything he said.

His body, of course, would betray him. That, he was sure of. Give it some more pain and it would react accordingly. It would even force the sounds of screams from his throat, but his mind, wasn't going to allow those sounds to form words.

The man, clearly angered by Dean's new defiance, took the whip to him. Beating him across the back, at first, then moving down his legs and then to his chest. Dean's body did as he expected. The groans that he tried to fight off, quickly turned to painful screams. His body shook and shuttered under the force of the object striking his body, leaving whelps and lacerations covering his already abused skin.

Dean screwed his eyes closed, willing the pain to stop, willing the whip to stop, willing the man to get tired, to need rest. Anything, anything to make this stop, to make his rebelling body calm back down.

He could hear Sam mumbling his screams, his chains rattling as he pulled tightly against them, begging the man to stop, but unable to get the words past his lips.

It started feeling hard to breathe. Dean was sure it was due to the pain, and the anxiety it brought on that threatened to shut his body down. He tried to concentrate on his breathes. In and out. In and out. Slow. Deep. Slow. In. out. Slow.

What felt like hours, days, maybe even weeks, but was probably only a few minutes, the torture had stopped. His body continued to shake and tremble as it swung in the air, suspended by ropes tied above him. His screams quieted to groans of pain, not by choice, but because the exhaustion and weakness had taken over.

No. He couldn't allow himself to become weak. He had to stay strong. Stay strong for Sammy. Stay strong. Breath. Calm. Deep. In. Out.

The man laughed, causing Dean to allow his eyes to slide halfway opened. The man stood in front of him, pleasure on his face.

"Well, well, well." The man said as he walked around Dean's swinging body, giving him a push to make him swing harder. "You're going to be a pistol to break, aren't you? Is it because of your little friend over there? And who exactly is he to you?"

He didn't know. He didn't know they were brothers. He didn't know who they were. The only thing he knew was that Dean was a hunter who had fallen into his trap, a promise of an easy job always seemed to get them where he wanted them.

In fact, Dean wasn't even sure the man knew that Sam was a hunter. He only knew he came looking for him, tried to save him. Maybe that's why he hadn't touched Sam? Maybe that's why all of his concentration was on Dean.

He thought about it for a minute, maybe he could use this knowledge for his advantage. But, he'd have to speak, for two reasons, one, so he could make up a story about who Sam was, and two, so Sam would know the story as well. But, he was speaking on his terms this time, so it was okay, it would all be okay.