Lost, Found, Protect and Heal

Summary: A slightly different take on a scene from 13x11 Breakdown.When Sam is kidnapped during the hunt for Donna's niece it sends Dean on another type of hunt as he hurries to save his brother from a madman and then he must find a way to help Sam heal afterward when memories of other darker times resurface as a result of Clegg's torture. (Hurt!Sam, Protective/big brother!Dean, Hurt/Comfort) *Dean/Sam*

Pairing: Dean/Sam

Warnings: The usual for language, eventual explicit content (Chapter 3 as far as sex goes), possible triggers for graphic physical violence, mention of past non-con, and other mentions of past abuse or violence.

Tags: 13x11- Breakdown

Spoilers: Maybe a few but if you haven't seen the episode yet this is a slightly different spin on some of it and the results.

Beta'd By: JaniceC678

Author Note: So this is a slightly different spin on that scene in the episode that shows a bit more of what might have happened if Dean hadn't arrived when he did as well as the healing that Sam went through afterwards. The story is complete but I will be updating weekly.

Chapter One

From the moment his father placed his six-month-old baby brother into his arms and told him to run out of their burning house and not to look back, it seemed to Dean Winchester that his life's motto had been set in stone: protect Sammy.

From that night, the one rule that always stayed the same in Dean's rulebook was, if anyone or anything touched or hurt his brother, then that person or monster, in most cases, would end up bleeding. To the hunter's way of thinking, if he lost Sam to either an evil monster or evil human, then Dean would spill blood or rip out the lungs of anything or anyone who kept him from finding his younger brother and protecting him like he'd vowed to do so many times growing up.

The hunter inside the elder Winchester had been furious when the punk ass vampire not only led them into a damn trap and bit Doug but then threw it in his face that not only was the so-called FBI man, Clegg, behind the butterfly killer, but he had also grabbed Sam. The older brother inside Dean had gone into pure locate/find/protect mode the second he'd heard his brother had been taken, knowing that he was in serious danger of having his body parts auctioned off on that sick, online crap auction they'd seen, and that time was short.

He was furious with himself for not seeing Clegg for what he was, as well as angry that they hadn't suspected the little twerp of a clerk-turned-vampire for having more to do in the case. All Dean wanted was to kill the vampire punk and get on the road to tracking down his brother. Unfortunately, first he had to blend up the disgusting concoction that would cure Doug of being a vampire.

He fought down the frustration and fear that twisted in his gut at the delay, knowing he could not leave Doug like that, if for no other reason that he knew Sam would never forgive him. Grabbing Twilight-wannabe's blood, he quickly mixed the potion while Donna got the location of where Clegg had taken Sam - as well as, they hoped, Donna's missing niece - before it was too late.

Not taking the time right then to properly dispose of the now-dead vampire punk's body, Dean had merely wrapped it in plastic and tossed it into the Impala's trunk. He figured he'd have more bodies to dispose of soon anyway, especially the bastard who put his hands on his little brother.

Leaving Donna to administer the antidote to Doug in the backseat, Dean drove as fast as he could while trying to not dwell on what they'd seen of that other auction…what Sam could be now facing. Knowing he had lost precious time dealing with the potion to save Doug, Dean prayed he would not be too late to save his brother.

Dean had grabbed the vamp's laptop and figured out how to get the thing to bring back up the auction site. Then he wished he hadn't. The man wearing a half pig mask was bragging about the next special auction up for grabs, but Dean's entire focus was on a bruised, bloodied Sam strapped to a metal table in the background. He watched in horror as pig guy - Clegg, Dean was certain from his voice and build – moved to the table and slowly drew a jagged knife down his brother's chest slicing easily through his shirt and drawing a gasp of pain from Sam.

"Oh, hell no! This is so not happening on my watch," Dean growled, foot pushing the accelerator as far as he could and tightening his fingers on the wheel until the leather began to make noise. "Hang on back there. We're running out of time."

Donna had looked over the seat to where the laptop was sitting on the passenger side and her eyes widened in horror at what she was seeing. It was fairly obvious that the man in the half pig mask was Agent Clegg just by his voice, and she recognized his shirt, but it was the half-torn, blood-soaked, formerly white shirt on Sam Winchester that stole her breath.

Deciding she didn't want to imagine how badly the younger Winchester had already been cut, she happened to look down at some of the comments and had to be quick to sit back or else risk throwing up. "Did you…the comments…what…why are they so much worse than they even were before?" she asked, shocked by what she was seeing, but then realized she already knew the answer. Dean's jaw clenched as he gave a quick glance to the laptop to eye a few sick comments coming up about which parts of his brother's body should be cut off first and how much one of the monsters bidding would pay if Clegg were to keep Sam conscious and alive thru the very worst of it.

"They know who he is," replied Dean grimly. "Some monsters might not know us by sight, but they do know our names. Sam Winchester? That son of a bitch would know there would be a bidding frenzy as soon as they heard the name." Dean's voice was hard, lethal, as he heard Sam fight back a cry of pain when the knife cut across his stomach. "For them to see him like this? Strapped to that table? To know he's alone and under a knife? They want to see blood. They want to hear my little brother scream on camera and watch as that bastard cuts off pieces of him to sell to the highest goddamn bidder.

"Clegg is playing it up. He's cocky because he doesn't think his little vampire buddy would sell him out, so he's going to see how much cash he can bring in while he basically tortures Sam." He shot another look down to the screen and felt his temper spike in a way that he hadn't felt in a very long time. "The mistake he made, other than grabbing my brother in the first goddamn place, was drawing this little nightmare out long enough for me to find his goddamn ass. Because now I will show him and remind every monster on that screen why you do not fuck with my little brother and expect to live long enough to brag about it!"

The Impala took the final turn on two wheels before screeching to a halt in front of a large, worn-out, old warehouse that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. "Do you want…?"

"Go find Sam. I'll look for Wendy." Donna knew she didn't have the years of experience with hunting as the Winchesters did, but she also knew the offer that Dean was about to make was out of duty. She knew where the hunter's head as well as his heart was and had no intention of distracting him any longer. "Watch your back, huh?" she said once they were inside the building.

"You too," Dean returned.

Dean pushed his concern for Donna down, trusting that the sheriff-turned-hunter could take care of herself, and turned his entire focus to finding Sam and fast. The worried and pissed-off big brother in him warred with his hunter instincts, and he had to fight not to just go charging in blindly to get to Sam as fast as possible.

"Hang on, Sammy. I'm coming for you, and that bastard will pay," Dean vowed in a tone that anyone who knew him meant that someone would soon be bleeding for touching Dean Winchester's little brother.

****

"You know he's not coming don't you, Sam?" Agent Clegg remarked with a smirk as he took a break in goading his online audience into ever higher bids by torturing his helpless captive to wipe the blood off his knife on a piece of Sam's ripped and bloodied shirt. "Even if Dean is still alive, if my little vampire friend didn't just kill him or turn him, he won't be coming to save you this time. You'll be dead and cut into itty bitty pieces before he'll even find us."

Fighting against the waves of agony shooting through his body from the numerous cuts the so-called FBI man had made even before starting the auction, he had managed to not give in to the urge to scream. He was Sam Freakin' Winchester and he refused to give either Clegg or whoever the hell was watching online that much satisfaction.

From the second he woke up strapped to the bloody table to see Clegg instructing his accomplice on how to set up the video camera, Sam was furious at himself for not seeing the lies that had been right in front of them from the start. In all the years that they'd been butting heads with the FBI, never had any actually beaten them to the scene of a crime like Clegg had. They'd also never had one as confrontational as Clegg had been the moment he'd laid eyes on Dean.

True, there had been Henrickson, who had been a huge pain in their asses, but he had been in a class by himself when it came to Winchester obsession, and actually believed them to be killers, so that was pretty much his job. At least he hadn't wanted to sell them for spare parts. Clegg wasn't supposed to have known who they were, so Sam guessed his attitude should have been a warning, although admittedly Dean did just have that effect on some people, which is probably why Sam didn't think much of it at the time.

Another red flag had been how the man had been solo instead of having even another agent with him. An agent that had spent 12 years on a serial killer case like the Butterfly should have had a partner with him at least but it didn't seem like he had anyone.

The biggest red flag to Sam now was the planted bloody shirt on the traveling pastor. Clegg had been too confrontational with the man, too willing to overlook the rules, and now Sam even wondered if the man was even a fed. Once Donna had come out of the room, it had been plain the shirt had been planted, and Sam knew if he had been more focused on the case and not on his own inner turmoil that he might have seen Clegg for what he was…a danger.

Sam wasn't sure whether to be angry or disappointed with himself that he'd failed one of the first things his brother had taught him: never let his guard down around anyone while working a case, be it apparent allies or enemies. He not only let Clegg get in close enough to knock him out, but he also left his brother and Donna alone with an enemy they had no idea to even suspect.

Tensing his arms once again to see if he could break the heavy leather straps binding his wrists to the table, Sam pushed down the gut-wrenching dread at the mention of Dean possibly being dead already or being turned into a vampire again. That nightmare was still one thing the younger Winchester hated to remember much less think too hard on.

A sudden searing pain up his arm caused the hunter to gasp, but Sam was still managed to bite back the scream that he knew Clegg was longing for as he switched to a different blade, a thinner one with a skinnier blade that Sam knew was meant to filet fish…or skin.

Sam wasn't sure how long it had been since Clegg knocked him out or even where he'd brought him, how far from Dean it was even if his brother was still alive. He knew the man had been cutting him, making both short, shallow cuts as well as deeper and longer ones for over an hour, so that also told Sam that, unlike the auction they'd been shown back at the diner, Clegg planned to draw this out as well as do things differently in other ways it seemed.

"Normally, we just take bids on full limbs, like arms, legs, torsos, as well as organs. But in this case, since you're such a high-profile and very popular donor, I think I'll make an exception and auction off pieces of you," Clegg said conversationally, his lips turning up into a slow, sick smile while running the tip of the blade down Sam's face, tsking when the hunter jerked it aside and grabbing a handful of Sam's hair to jerk it painfully back.

"You and your big brother are legends, Sam. Every monster out there living their normal lives thanks to me knows who the Winchesters are. They will pay big for pieces of you," he sneered while leaning closer so his face, half covered by the pig mask, was close to Sam's. "They will pay big to see me cut your skin off slowly, peel you like a peach, so I can sell your skin. Then I will cut your fingers off one by one before I measure each arm and leg to six-inch sections and cut you up into very small pieces before I even get to the good stuff."

Clegg tightened his fingers in Sam's hair to yank it closer to him as he dropped his voice as if not wanting the camera mic to pick up his words. "These sorry losers will pay a lot of money to watch me bleed you slowly and make you scream. And you WILL scream, Sam. I promise you that." He ran the sharp tip of the filet knife down the length of Sam's neck, applying enough pressure to break the skin so blood welled up enough that he could gather some on his finger to lick off with what could only be described as a demented smile. "Your blood tastes good, Sammy. I wonder what the rest of you tastes like?"

Shock was starting to set in, so it was getting harder for Sam to fight back against the agony each new cut caused on top of the pain from all of the other lacerations. His stomach was twisting sickly a lot more but he couldn't be sure if that was due to loss of blood, fear, shock, or just plain sickness caused from Clegg's words and actions.

Unable to jerk his head away from the tight grip the man still had of his hair, Sam refused to give up the hope that Dean would come, but he also realized the odds were slim of his brother finding him in time. Facing the fact that Clegg was going to torture him for hours while keeping him alive, skinning him and cutting pieces off to sell to the highest bidder, the hunter decided, since he couldn't break the straps holding him, that he'd go with Plan B and hope it worked, since he would rather die quickly than suffer through what Clegg had in mind, much less be used as bait for his brother.

"Go to hell!" Sam gritted out between clenched teeth, spitting into Clegg's face and grunting as a hard fist was returned against his jaw. "Kill me, Clegg! Kill me now, because I'm not begging you. I won't scream for either you or those freaks on that screen, you sick son of a bitch. And if you think you're going to use me as bait for my brother, the minute he gets here, you'll be dead, so you might as well …ugh!"

Punching the hunter again in the face, Clegg sneered down at the blood that trailed from Sam's mouth and nose while reaching for something on a nearby tray. "I don't want you as bait for your so-called hero, Sam. I figure by now Dean's dead, or wishing he was, so your big brother is the last thing on my mind," he admitted while grabbing a hold of Sam's hair again to jerk his head back to where he wanted it as he held what he'd grabbed up where the tensing hunter could see it. "I also know you won't beg - at least not yet - but you will scream for me and all these well-deserving monsters watching us. That said, this first work will require some concentration if I don't want to ruin the merchandise, so I think gagging you for the moment will be much better for all of us."

Sam had a second after trying to clear his vision to see the large, evil-looking bit gag. He had a moment of panic since, of all of his phobias and issues, one of his worst, even at times when he wasn't about to be tortured to death was with gags. He instinctively tried to keep his jaw closed, but lost that battle when another brutal fist slammed into his head and Sam felt the heavy bit shoved between his teeth while the leather straps were quickly tied to prevent him for spitting it out.

"Good boy," Clegg smiled, ignoring the hate he easily saw in the hazel eyes that were becoming glassy with shock as he picked up his filet knife. "It's been a long time since I've skinned a living person, so it might take me a few practice strips to get it right," he spoke to the laptop after a quick glance showed him that he had a very rapt and interested audience. "Let's get this party started, shall we?" With quick movements, Clegg sliced away the remnants of Sam's bloodied shirt, letting it fall to the floor and studying the exposed flesh as an artist might look at a canvas while planning his masterpiece.

Deciding the bit in his mouth might not be a bad thing now, Sam had to bite down hard as well as jerk his head away to avoid seeing a thin strip of skin on the back of his hand raggedly be cut away, the wave of agony threatening to drag him into unconsciousness, which also might not be a bad thing right about now.

Sam had a brief flash of watching his father and Bobby skin fish they'd caught after a day of fishing one afternoon and realized with a horror he hadn't felt in a number of years that that was what was basically about to be done to him. In a flash, that quickly morphed into the far more terrifying memory he had, for the most part, managed to brutally squash down over the past several years, of the absolute and unbearable agony of having experienced the same thing, repeatedly, while locked in the cage without even being allowed to pass out from the pain.

In the years that he'd been hunting, there had been several times when Sam had come across the worst types of monsters of both natures: real and human. He'd been used as bait, bled by ghouls, bitten by vampires, tossed around by ghosts, and beaten by any number of other monsters. The events at the home of the Benders still were things that kept the hunter awake at night along with the centuries of torture in the cage by two pissed off archangels. He realized with a growing sense of despair that he was about to relieve some of the worst of those horrors. He just prayed that this time, he would mercifully pass out sooner rather than later.

Pain seared up Sam's now bloody arm as he finally couldn't hold back the muffled scream of agony as Clegg peeled off a long, thin strip of skin from his right arm to hold it up proudly before repeating the procedure to remove a smaller piece of skin off of the weakly straining hunter's side, laughing as he did so.

"Good. Good. I knew you'd scream for me eventually, Sam," Clegg looked up from examining the now raw flesh under the first surface layer of skin he'd removed. "You lasted longer than most of my donors. They usually are screaming from the first view of the knife, but you held out a lot longer. Your hero would be proud of you, I'm sure, but then I shouldn't have expected anything less from one of the legendary Winchesters. I wonder, if I took the gag out, would you beg me now?" he smirked, running the bloody tip of the knife over the bit in Sam's mouth and allowing it to press into the soft skin under the hunter's left eye. "Would you beg if I were to pop this eye out, or do you still believe your brother is coming to your rescue?"

Clegg had read all the files on the Winchesters, public as well as those that were not so public, and had heard all of the stories told about the hunters. He wasn't sure he believed all of them, but he had to admit the younger one was holding up far better than he'd originally guessed he would. Maybe the stories were true after all. Either way was fine with him. He was raking up a large amount of cash which was all that really mattered to him. And the notoriety he'd gain from being the one to end the Winchesters? That would increase his status within the monster community as well as his income well into the future.

Sam managed a glare at his torturer. "He's gonna kill you, you son of a bitch." Even through the gag, the words were clear albeit muffled. Sam knew it may not be in time to save him, but he had no doubt in his heart that the words were true.

"Dean's dead or dying, Sammy. I told you before that he was the last thing I'm worried about and certainly the last thing you should expect to see…well, while you can still see, that is," he laughed, amused at his own humor.

He paused, studying his victim and planning his next move. Sam was just barely conscious, his body no longer straining against the straps holding him, and Clegg wanted to give him a moment to recover. He did not want this ending too quickly with Sam passing out. When his glassy-with-shock eyes had managed to lift enough as if to look at something past Clegg's shoulder, the man just tsked again sounding amused. "What're you looking at, hunter? What do you think you're seeing that you aren't, or…"

"He sees me, asshole. Now ask yourself how worried you really should be."

TBC