Summary:  Vengeance: punishment inflicted in retaliation for an injury or offense. Dean and Sam are about to learn the meaning of the word well.
A/N:  Thanks to all that left me wonderful reviews on my first story (New Kid)! It inspired me to continue writing.
A Special Thanks to my friend Charlene for offering me so much encouragement!
Disclaimer:  I don’t own Sam or Dean … if I did, I wouldn’t be here writing, I’d be … preoccupied!

“SONOFABITCH!!!”

Still holding tightly to the phone, Dean turned to slam his other fist into the wall directly behind him. His pent up anger reaching the boiling point, Dean swung again, ignoring any pain that punch was inflicting on himself.

“You bastard, I swear I’m gonna kill you!!”

It was the second time that the sick bastard that had his brother had called him. The second time he’d gotten the upper hand. No, it was the third … the first had been in the capture of his brother in the first place.

But it was the first time that Dean had heard Sam’s voice in three days.

At first it raised the eldest Winchester’s ire beyond all sense of reason and control. His anger seethed from every pore. It boiled over to burst free in a rage that had Dean punching the wall, the door, throwing things in a tantrum that would have been dangerous if anyone else had been around.

But still, he held onto that phone as if it were a lifeline; as if it were the air he breathed and the blood that coursed through his veins.

Finally, after throwing so many fists his knuckles were leaving bloody smears, his adrenaline vacated for calmer waters, and Dean, with his face pressed against the wall, slid slowly to the floor, the phone cradled against his chest.

His shoulder’s hitched, and what came out was a choked sob. The silence in the room was dissipated by the sounds coming from the eldest of the Winchester clan. The sounds of tears, however, soon changed to that of maniacal laughter. It echoed out even as he stilled there, pressed against the wall, his cell phone pressed tightly to his chest.

“Dean?”

He hadn’t heard the door; not a good thing for a hunter. He was too wrapped up in his own emotional meltdown that he honestly didn’t care if the yellow-eyed demon himself had slithered from the depths of hell to cross the barrier of their door and kill him with but a glance.

“Dean, what is it son?”

He looked to Joshua, his expression not changing. Even as tears slid down his cheeks, the sounds he emitted were very much comical.

“He … he called again!!!”

Joshua looked at John’s son as if he’d lost his mind. Maybe this was too much for him. Maybe the thought of losing Sam had sent Dean over the edge he’d been precariously balancing on since John’s demise.

“Dean, just sit there, I’ll ….”

“I heard him, Joshua. I heard Sam…”

“You … he … what’d he say?”

“He said he was sorry. Then he screamed.”

Yes, Dean Winchester had definitely lost what little marbles he had left if he was laughing at his brother’s torment.

“Hold on son, I’ll get …”

“Don’t you see Joshua? He’s alive! If he can scream it means he’s alive.”

Dr. Murdoch stood at the open door of the room that held Sam Winchester captive. Two guards flanked him, though they were a bit back from the doctor himself, who stood direct center of the entry way staring at a very unconscious Sam. Both guards, however, backed up a step when Allen approached. Dr. Murdoch might have been the boss, but Allen was definitely a man to be reckoned with.

“Doc….”

Allen came to stand beside the doctor, their shoulders nearly touching though Allen had a good six inches on the elder man. Nearly as tall as Sam Winchester himself, Allen made a formidable enemy to any that dared cross him. Though it wasn’t just his size … it was his disposition. He held very little conscious. He did what it took to get a job done, no matter what it took. Dislocating their captive’s shoulder while he spoke to his brother had been one of those tasks. He didn’t care that it caused pain, in fact, he got off on it. Sam’s screams had caused him to smile; something he didn’t do very often these days.

“Look at him Allen…”

“You have him right where you want him, Sir.”

Doctor Murdoch turned to look at the man who was almost like a son, and smiled.

“Yes, I do … and I must say I’m quite impressed.”

A blonde brow arched on the Neanderthal that seemed to take pleasure in causing Sam’s pain.

“Impressed?”

“Yes, Allen. He hasn’t backed down, not once. And you have to admit, you’ve put quite a beating to him.”

One side of his lip curled, giving his mouth a lopsided look. Yes, he had put quite the hurting on their captive. It made Allen feel powerful to know that he could make or break the man lying there with but mere blink … or so he thought.

“So when is your plan going to be fulfilled?”

“As soon as Dean gets here.”

“And what if he doesn’t come?”

“Oh he’ll come. This one … this brother of his, he’s important to him. Just as important as Clara was to me.”

Allen glanced to the doctor, knowing the facts that instilled this whole operation. But the whys, to Allen, didn’t matter. He just enjoyed the here and now … the times he got to show Sam Winchester just who his God was.

“When?”

“When I’ve decided he’s been tormented enough and I lead him to me.”

Allen nodded once then glanced back to Sam; who it appeared was beginning to stir. Clenching his fists, he tightened his jaw, making the doctor chuckle and pat his arm.

“Oh don’t fret Allen; you’ll get to kill him … eventually. But for now, we play by my rules. Now come on, let’s have some fun.”

Sam could hear his brother as soon as he entered the school. Even from behind closed doors in the principal’s office, he could hear Dean’s voice rising out in a tone that made Sam look down to his lap.

At that moment he would have rather faced a thousand John Winchester’s than one pissed off brother.

“What do you mean, he’s been suspended?”

“We asked for his father to come down here, now where is …”

“Business, he’s away on business. Now we can either quabble over why he isn’t here, or skip the foreplay and get down to business.”

Sam could all but hear the principal’s eyes widening at the crassness that was his brother. Sinking down further in his seat, he silently prayed that a huge crater from space would land on him in that moment.

Never was that his luck, he was a Winchester, after all.

“Sir if you’ll just…”

“Let me see my brother. I’m telling you, my geeky brother couldn’t have…”

“Mister Winchester, he beat up three members of the football team, gave a concussion to one of the band members, and threatened to ‘salt and burn’ the Football coach. Now if that isn’t cause for…”

Dean couldn’t help it, he cracked a smile at the last one.

“Sammy really said that?”

“I seriously doubt this is a laughing matter! Now, if you’d like to see Samuel…”

“It’s Sam, he hates being called Samuel…”

Sam, by that time, had sank so far down in his seat that it was a wonder he didn’t just pool off the edge onto the floor. When the door opened, he dared to peek up at a very pissed off older brother.

“Uh … hi Dean.”

“Hi Dean? You beat up half the school and it’s hi Dean?”

“Well, sir, technically it wasn’t half …”

“Shut up lady, I wasn’t talking to you!”

Sam peeked up, eyeing the exasperated principal and his angry brother and sighed before slowly climbing to his feet and grabbing his backpack. The principal’s voice telling Dean that Sam couldn’t return to school for a week was barely heard as he shuffled out and plopped down into the Impala, waiting for his impending doom.

They were halfway home before Dean had simmered down enough to speak, his anger, however, still evident by the way his words came out slow and calculated.

“So … wanna tell me what that was all about, Sam?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, fine, then you can explain it to dad right after he gets home.”

Sam peeked up from his perusal of his book bag to eye Dean in a sideways glance.

“I um … beat up four guys and threatened a teacher.”

“I kind of figured that part out, Sam!!”

“I just um … got mad?”

Dean gave Sam the look. The same one his father gave him on many occasions, but to sixteen year old Sam Winchester, that look held so much more weight coming from his heroic older brother.

“They were … picking on me.”

“Oh like that hasn’t happened before!”

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“You’re a geek Sam; of course they pick on you! Hell, I pick on you every chance I get. And they were what? The football team? Not as cool as your older brother mind you, but to the school…”

“They said dad was a drunk!! That mom didn’t really die, that she left him. And that’s why …”

He frowned and looked down to the hole in the knee of his jeans. It might have been fashionable, but it was highly unintentional. Sam’s hole was caused by wear, nothing more.

“Why … what?”

………….

“Sam?”

“They said dad was drunk and crazy and so I … hit them. Then the teacher threatened to call dad, said something about like father like son, so I threatened to salt and burn his ass…”

Dean quirked a smile and reached over to ruffle his kid brother’s hair.

“Damn Sammy that’s …”

“That’s what?”

“That’s … pretty awesome…”

“Dean M’sorra…..”

The words were slurred and barely above a whisper, but the reaction was instantaneous as the laughter it caused filled the small room. Sam Winchester gasped and bolted upright, only to groan and flop back to the blankets that were, for all intents and purposes, his bed.

“No, I’m afraid not, Sam. There’s no Dean here.”

Despite the pain that pounded in his head, that made his shoulder and thigh both scream in agony, Sam peeked his eyes open enough to shoot the doctor a glare.

“Not yet…”

“Not ever. Didn’t I tell you? Dean decided you weren’t worth finding and left … on a hunt.”

Sam said nothing, just stared as if he was in a contest with this mad man, and the first one to look away lost the game. Only, it wasn’t a game. It was a pissing contest for Sam’s life, his sanity.

“See Allen, I told you he was defiant.”

“I can break him of that.”

“Oh really?”

Allen nodded. And while Sam couldn’t see the action, he could very well guess it was there. He almost flinched at their discussion, but he refused to pull his venomous glare from the man with the glasses.

Doctor Murdoch met Sam’s gaze unaffected, though he did look most amused. He liked the fight he saw in the youngest Winchester. So much so that he almost hated to lose it. Almost.

“Now that, Allen, I would enjoy seeing.”

His gaze jerked away only as he felt the arm on his to pull roughly and cause a yell as his dislocated then relocated shoulder didn’t like the strain of Allen’s jerking hands.

“So, you want to play boy?”

Pain mixed in his eyes, making them appear brilliantly green … and defiant. His gaze had turned from the doctor to the goon, it unwavering despite the intense throb that bloomed through his injured shoulder.

“Oh, I see that you do.”

And with a jerk of Allen’s wrist, Sam stumbled, the two steps he managed to take ended in a deep cry as it felt like his thigh was on fire from the spot where the bullet had once imbedded in his flesh.

Stumbling, he caught his fall with his hands, managing to save his nose another blow by mere inches.

“Bastard….”

It was hissed between clenched teeth, even as sweat riddled his brow. Sam was a Winchester, and as such surrender was not an option.

“I do believe he likes it rough doc…”

Laughter. It echoed throughout the room he was growing to despise as a sharp explosion hit his back in way of Allen’s boot as it crashed down between his shoulder blades, sending Sam to the floor.

“Remember, you asked for this…”

The putrid breath of his captor was drowned out as pain exploded in his wrist; Allen’s other boot crashing down on his arm causing a snap that was definitely felt, though hardly heard. The sound was nothing compared to the scream that echoed from Sam Winchester.

“Ok, so this Sunnydale Hospital has been empty since when?”

Dean, Bobby, and Joshua all sat around the small table of the hotel that was now currently serving as the headquarters to the Rescue Sam mission. There were others involved as well. Currently, Ellen was gathering information through networking other hunters, Gary was researching anything and everything that this pissant town had to offer, and Ash had his computers going haywire as searches were done nationwide for anyone and everyone that had any beef with anyone named Winchester. Not to mention the other hunters that had their eyes and ears peeled for any signs of Sam or who might have taken him. All in all, the Winchester corner was pretty full.

“Since 2002 when one of the resident physicians was the center of a huge scandal. It seems that Sunnydale was the operation for our very own Dr. Kevorkian. Only, the patients weren’t consensual when it came to what he was performing on them.”

Dean looked at Joshua and arched a brow, so Joshua continued.

“It appears that several doctors were experimenting on patients for a means of the fountain of youth.”

“You mean …”

“They were killing patients to try and find ways to make themselves live forever.”

“Let’s just be glad that I’m not on the bad side of Doctor Feel Good.”

Bobby looked up from his reading as Joshua smirked over Sam’s laptop. It seemed odd, the very big part of Sam being used to help find him. It was like a reminder that Sam wasn’t there.

“So this hospital has been empty since?”

“It was sold in 2003, and was unoccupied until … well; it says it’s never been occupied.”

“Not that it matters anyway. Jesus, what in the hell are we doing anyway? None of this is helping us find Sam.”

Dean rose and began pacing, something Bobby and Joshua were quite used to. For the past day, Dean would sit, join in the discussion, then get agitated and rise to begin his pacing, ranting, and all out worrying about his brother.

With good reason.

Both Bobby and Joshua were equally worried about the youngest Winchester. But, someone had to hold this rag-tag group together, and they both knew it wasn’t going to be Dean. So, while all of them worried about the fate of Sam Winchester, Bobby and Joshua remained calm, at least outwardly, and allowed Dean to vent before continuing on their plight to rescue one of their own.

“How’s our special patient, Allen?”

The loyal member of Dr. Murdoch’s staff entered the quiet office, a brow arched before he let out a breath slowly. He was annoyed, to say the least. He was a man of action, and the action they were taking didn’t seem to be bringing results as fast as he would have liked.

“He’s pacing. Well, as much as his leg will allow.”

Daniel Murdoch nodded and rustled through his papers before laying them down and glancing up to the large, blonde man.

“You might as well be candid, Allen. It’s what I like about you.”

Allen stood stoic for a moment, though it all ended with a large breath of courage. Letting it out slowly, he allowed his feelings to come out in such a way as to let the good doctor think Allen’s thoughts were his own. Daniel might be in charge, but Allen definitely had his hand in the cookie jar.

“This … kid. This Sam Winchester. He’s making a mockery of you, Sir.”

“I don’t understand, Allen. I have him caged, I have had him beaten and taken him away from everything he feels is safe. How, exactly, is he mocking me.”

A hand swiped over the cleanly shaven face of the blonde as he again sucked in a breath.

“He … defies you, Sir.”

“Ahhh. You mean he doesn’t bow down to me as you feel he should?”

Allen would have smiled if it wouldn’t have blown the seriousness he was trying to convey. But, as it were, he didn’t really need to do anything, his amusement was clear enough in his deadly gaze.

“Yes, Sir. That is exactly what I mean. He is defiant and should be made to step into line.”

“Yes, well, he is very much like his father and brother. Though there is something different in Sam, I’m just not sure what.”

“Regardless, he doesn’t show you the respect you deserve.”

Daniel Murdoch grinned such a sadistic smile that Satan himself would have shuddered were it directed at him.

“So shall we enforce this show of respect?”

Allen grinned, his own viciousness matching that of the doctor’s.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“Well, the Hornwell place is a bust.”

Dean stormed into the motel room looking fit to be tied. Every lead they tried that failed was one more reminder that Sam wasn’t with him. That Sam was hurt, possibly dead. No! He shoved that thought aside and looked from Bobby to Joshua, one sandy brow arching slowly.

“You found something?”

“Well … not exactly.”

“And just what exactly does not exactly mean?”

“Ellen called.”

“Oh cut the crap Bobby.”

It was Bobby’s turn to arch a brow, though he said nothing. He knew Dean was feeling the weight of the world, so he was going to let this one slide … for now.

“Ash found out who owned the hospital.”

“And … ?”

“It’s owned by a foreign corporation called Nemesis.”

Dean looked between Bobby and Joshua, that look settling on his face as he silently mouthed ‘huh’.

“Did Ash say who owned this company?”

“He’s trying to find the controlling parties now, as well as where it’s based out of.”

“Ellen also checked out the history of the town, and, like us, she came up with a big fat nothing.”

Dean’s gaze shifted from Bobby to Joshua, his voice coming slow.

“So other than the fact that some whacko made a hospital shut its doors, nothing has happened in this town?”

“Well … not exactly … “

Sam had been awake for the better part of an hour. One blissful hour where his captor didn’t come in and cause some physical harm. One hour where he was left to his own devices. One hour where Sam’s level head was trying desperately to work some way out of this mess he’d found himself in.

He’d been left food and water (again) but again Sam found himself with hardly an appetite. He did, however, force himself to eat, even if just a little; it would do no good if he was too weak to escape when the opportunity arose.

The water was another matter entirely. He guzzled it. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get it at anytime from the bathroom, but getting there wasn’t as simple as it might have seemed.

Swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he used the wall for support to rise. His left leg and right shoulder screamed in protest to his actions, but Sam didn’t seem to notice even if he did coddle his broken right wrist. But, judging by the sweat that was beading on his brow, it was more likely that he was ignoring the pain as best he could.

“So … now we’re standing Sam.”

Without Dean’s sarcastic wit at his side, Sam was making do with himself. He found he lacked sorely in the companionship aspect. But truthfully, he just missed Dean.

His brother had been such a constant in his life that, at times, he drove him to the brink of insanity. Sam realized now, when he was utterly alone, just how much he missed that craziness in his life. He missed his driving, his drinking, the way he hustled pool and women … all at the same time. He would have given anything for Dean to walk in at that very moment to smile and say, “It’s okay Sammy, I told you nothing bad was gonna happen to you.”

But Sam had the feeling that he was going to remain alone. And worse … that he was going to die alone.

Hobbling to the window, he stared out at the overgrown lawn. It gave him the impression that wherever he was, it wasn’t a place that was cared for. Hazels drank in everything like a sponge. Sam was a vast wealth of knowledge, and he got that way by studying. His sudden environment was no different.

Leaning on the glass, he slowly perused the entire lawn … all from the vantage of his room. Then, his gaze took in the distance; the road beyond the lawn. Instantly Sam came to life. Squinting, he eyed the road, watching, waiting … as if just by thinking it a black impala was going to cruise by and Dean would spot him from the road.

His hopes were dashed as he heard the click of the lock. Sam, however, refused to turn and look at his captor. He’d decided that he wasn’t going to give this doctor the satisfaction of seeing him break. He could beat him, make him scream in pain … but he wasn’t taking his pride. He was hanging onto that for when Dean came.

And Dean was coming.

“Good afternoon Sam.”

The voice was enough to make Sam sick to his stomach. But, despite the wave of nausea, he didn’t turn, he merely grunted a reply.

“I said Good Afternoon…”

Again he refused to budge, refused to look, just stared out the window, searching, hoping, and praying for Dean to somehow know he was there.

There was a shuffling behind him, a quiet murmur, and then he was suddenly jerked from his stare out the window to stare directly at Allen. Sam couldn’t help it; he winced as the sudden change in stance had weight bearing on his left leg.

“I believe Dr. Murdoch was speaking to you … boy!”

Despite the pain, Sam looked at the man (and was happy that he was looking down!), a sneer starting to curl on his mouth.

“Yeah? And I believe I was ignoring him.”

He knew it was coming, but still nothing prepared him for the blow that sucked the air from his lungs and had him doubling over. Allen’s fist had been accurately deadly, his aim delving for the soft, tender part of Sam’s stomach. As Sam doubled and started to keel toward his knees, he jerked him up roughly, his voice menacing and too close for comfort.

“You owe the doc an apology for your insolence. Now be a good boy and say you’re sorry.”

“Fuck … you … “

The blows Sam received were fast and hard, and while he tried to defend himself, even throw in a few of his own punches as he had that first day, the injuries he’d already received made his decent to the floor faster than Sam would have liked.

Finding himself curled in the fetal position on the floor, his arms used in vain to try and protect his head, Sam tried to block the pain by playing a game he and Dean used to play when they were kids and cooped up in some crummy motel room, waiting for their father to return from his latest hunt.

“You can’t fly Sam! Now come down from there.”

“I can do anything I wanna, Dean, and you can’t stop me!”

“Just … come down from there, Sammy, before you get…”

The crash was deafening as Sam fell off the countertop, learning that he, indeed, could not fly, but what startled Dean the most was the scream that came from his brother.

“Sammy! Talk to me! Are you okay?”

Sniffling, Sam turned and burrowed himself into his big brother as much as he could.

“Dean?”

“Yeah Sammy?”

“You’re the bestest big brother ever…”

“Dean………………..”

The name was moaned from his lips as Allen jerked him upright, though Sam was only staying in that position because he was being held there. Smirking, the brutish man looked to Doctor Murdoch, who tugged Sam’s cell phone from his pocket.

“Let’s give him what he wants.”

Moving toward Sam, Daniel squatted down and opened the phone, pressing the talk button to call Dean once again. This was his favorite part … tormenting the eldest Winchester, instilling that feeling of helplessness, of hopelessness.

“Sammy?”

“De….”

Sam perked a little at hearing his brother’s voice. He lifted his head slightly, his gaze searching; seeking the comfort Dean had always given.

“Come on Sammy, talk to me!”

“I looked for you, Dean….”

“Sammy, where are you?”

Sam, however, was trying to wade through the fog that was currently his mind. Being beaten to a pulp (again) was not sitting well with his rational side, so it was out to lunch at the moment.

“Oh the floor … bleeding …”

“Sam? Sammy, tell me where you are!!”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“You’re the bestest big brother ever.”

“So other than the fact that some whacko made a hospital shut its doors, nothing has happened in this town?”

“Well … not exactly … “

“What do you mean no … “

The rest was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone, and while most of the hunters helping them had Dean’s number, it always caused his heart to still when the phone rang. Snatching it out of his pocket, he glanced at the Caller ID even as he snapped it open.

“Sammy?”

Both Bobby and Joshua straightened, their eyes boring into Dean, though their looks, for the moment, were completely ignored in lieu of his phone call.

“De….”

The voice at the other end was low, weak, and it scared Dean more than anything else in the world.

“Come on Sammy, talk to me!”

“I looked for you, Dean….”

“Sammy, where are you?”

“On the floor … bleeding …”

“Sam? Sammy, tell me where you are!”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“You’re the bestest big brother ever.”

“Yeah, Sammy, and I’ll be even better if you tell….”

There was a scuffling sound in the background, some muffled words before a very distinct voice came through, though it wasn’t directly into the phone.

“Say goodbye to your brother, Sam…”

The scream was almost immediate, and so loud that both Bobby and Joshua leapt to their feet. Dean clutched the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white from the effort.

“Sam? SAMMY?!”

But the line was dead. He didn’t even need to hear the click to know that it had been disconnected.

“SONOFABITCH!”

His left fist came crashing down on the table, the phone still held as if it were some lifeline to Sam. Some means to physically touch his brother … and in a way, it was.

Joshua and Bobby both stared at Dean, speechless for the moment, not to mention at a loss as to what to do. They had never been witness, until now, to one of the torturous phone calls that Dean was receiving. It was both agonizing and maddening all at once.

Bobby, not the sort of man that resorted to anything resembling a ‘Chick Flick’ moment was the first to step forward, a hand resting on Dean’s shoulder.

“We’ll get him back, son….”

Dean turned his head, the look Bobby saw in his gaze all too easy to read. There was hate in the young man’s green gaze. A hate so thick it was nearly palpable.

“You know Gary, if you actually push the on button, that computer just might work better for you.”

“Very funny, Winchester. Or should I say kid?”

“You could, but this kid just figured it all out.”

With a smug look that the seventeen year old had to have learned from his older brother, Sam turned the computer screen a bit to show the elder hunter that Sam, in fact, had found just what they needed to know.

“Well, I’ll be … you did it, Sam.”

“Yeah, pretty good … for a kid.”

Gary looked to the youngest Winchester and shook his head before looking back to the computer screen as Sam rose to gather the print out. In so many ways, Sam was a kid. He had this innocence that should not exist in a hunter’s son, especially not John Winchester’s son. But there was something else in the boy. Something that Gary couldn’t pinpoint, but he was certain he wasn’t the only one who saw it. It damned near glowed from the kid.

Gary sat at the red light, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he sat impatiently waiting for the light to change to green. He’d known John, Bobby, and Joshua for more years than he wanted to count (the gray hair proved how many) and knew the Winchester boys nearly as long. He’d met John through Bobby, and of course, eventually came the introduction of the next generation of hunters.

Just before he contemplated actually running the light, it changed, and his foot hit the gas, causing the car to pull a wheel as he took off down the main drag of this one horse town stuck somewhere in the middle of a big bunch of nothing.

But there was more than just nothing.

It caused Gary to press the gad pedal down further, exceeding the speed limit more than most would dare in such a small town, but Gary wasn’t most; he was a hunter. Hunter’s just didn’t seem to think about such trivial consequences as a ticket they would never pay in a town they probably wouldn’t come back to … at least under the same alias.

Slowing only to pull into the parking lot of the local run down motel, also known as the Find Sam Headquarters, Gary pulled to a stop next to the rusted truck, gathered his papers, and then hurried to the door.

Allen did as the doctor instructed, he sat in a chair, watching the sleeping man, and waiting for him to stir. Oh but he did more than obey an order, he studied his prey, calculated just where and when to cause the most pain … just what would cause the biggest scream. He loved that, it was like a musical symphony to sadistic ears.

Last night had been no different; he’d certainly gotten a yell out of the man when he’d slammed his already broken wrist to the ground, re-breaking it. But, it wasn’t exactly what he wanted. He wanted him to beg, to plead, to cry and profess anything just for the pain to stop.

Sam Winchester refused to give him what he wanted.

Sitting there, he glared at the young man, his look of hate useless since he was out cold. Allen would fix that though. He’d make damn sure he had Sam begging … crying. He was going to have this Winchester kid praying to a new God.

Allen liked the title of Deity.

“Dean, I’m telling you, if it’s the last thing we do, we’ll get this sonofabitch.”

Joshua stood strong, his side already chosen a long time ago when he’d first met the Winchester’s, a side he wasn’t going to change, at least not in this lifetime. But still, he stood between Dean and the door.

“Get out of my way, Joshua.”

Bobby stood behind the eldest Winchester, his gaze on Joshua, but his hand on Dean’s shoulder as a means to instill some sort of calm in a situation that was way passed spinning out of control.

“I’m telling you Dean, we need ….”

Three pairs of eyes turned as Gary opened the door to their room, all three boring into him for different reasons. Dean’s hand had already been at the ready on his gun, just itching to blow something away. Bobby breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that the newest entrant could talk some sense into the angry, scared, and frustrated Winchester. Joshua, however, prayed that Gary’s research had paid off, that he found something they could use.

Apparently God favored Joshua.

“Damn, judging by the welcome I’m getting, you wouldn’t think that I just found out who has controlling interest in Nemesis.”

A pin dropping would have rang out loud and clear in that moment as everything stopped. Dean’s itchy fingers stilled on the butt of his gun, Bobby’s hand paused in a grip of Dean’s shoulder, and Joshua would have later swore that he’d died for a minute there; he certainly hadn’t been breathing and that his heart had definitely stopped.

Then with a slam of reality, time sped back up with the motion of Gary’s smile. He had no idea what went on behind closed doors only moments ago. All he knew was he’d gotten an entrance … a grand entrance at that.

“Well … “

Three voices came at once; Bobby’s was anxious, Joshua’s was impatient, and Dean’s said that Gary had exactly 2.3 seconds before he was killed by Dean’s itchy trigger finger.

“It seems Nemesis is owned by a Doctor Daniel Murdoch.”

When there was no response from the three men, Gary sighed and continued.

“The same doctor that was seeking the fountain of youth, and would do anything, and probably did, to get it.”

“I know that name from somewhere…”

Joshua looked to Dean to fill in the details, but when he didn’t, he turned back to Gary. Bobby gave Dean’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before moving to the table, the brain of their operation, and dropped into a chair.

“He was a prominent citizen of the area, that is, until he got caught with his hand in everyone else’s cookies.”

Moving to the table, he dropped all the printouts he’d made, and then lowered into a seat.

“Seems odd that the only thing that has happened in the area has been some fucked up doctor trying to off his patients to learn the path to immortality.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true.”

“What do you mean?”

“About fifty miles south of here there was one angry, pissed off spirit.”

“What?”

Dean spun, his gaze immediately going to Bobby for explanation.

“That’s what we were trying to tell you son, there had been a spirit killing people and all the signs of a Winchester hunt.”

“So dad, Sammy, and I did a salt and burn, then some crazy doctor….”

“Actually, the crazy doctor was first, and Sam wasn’t here. This was in 2003 I think.”

Consciousness was like a double-edged sword; it brought with it the light … but with the light came pain. Before Sam was even aware he was waking, he was aware of the pain. It was distant and hazy at first, like something far off on the horizon, a song not quite understood. He could hear the melody, hum it even … but the words were elusive.

Then the drums set it. Slowly at first, but the crescendo built to an unforgiving tone of noxious pressure that made his ears want to cave in and collapse on his brain. And once the singer worked up the nerve to finally utter a tune, it was like a Wendigo had taken up a duet with a Banshee and they decided to blare out some country tune that hadn’t quite made it up to this century.

All they needed now was a banjo and the Apocalypse would have set in within his brain.

At that moment, as awareness started to drift into the blackness of his brain, Sam would have given anything to hear AC/DC blaring out of the speakers as Dean sang along off-key while his head rested against the passenger window of the Impala. It didn’t matter where they were; they’d been just about anywhere. It just mattered that he was with Dean, and not here.

“Welcome to the real world, Sam.”

Sam uttered a groan and pressed his face against his arm. He didn’t want to face the real world; he wanted to fall back into a dream where Dean’s hand was at his back. “It’s okay, Sammy, I’ve got this one.”

“Think you’re going to survive this one, do you, Sam?”

John Winchester raised no fools in his family. Despite the fact that the Winchester’s were prepared for life in a cruel world, Sam knew that one of these days their luck would run out. He wasn’t so sure his hadn’t on that Sasquach hunt. In fact, hope was slowly fading to the fact that he might be found in time. Regardless, he lifted his head, the weariness in his eyes hidden by a façade of sarcasm and cockiness borrowed straight from the archives of Dean Winchester.

“I’ll live to salt and burn your ass.”

The curl of his lips was short-lived as one hand grabbed his throat, the strength of that grip jerking Sam upright as he gasped for air.

“You sorry bastard, you think you are better than me?”

Sam’s face changed from that pale shade of barely alive to bright red in an instant. His hands, once lax, had come up to swat at the man’s face, one balling despite the pain in his wrist to swing at the man cutting off his supply of oxygen.

“Oh you think you’re better than everyone. Refuse to give the doctor respect. Well, you’ll respect this, won’t you?”

Growing weaker, he gave up his fight against the man himself and batted at the hands that held his air in their grip. His strangled gasps grew quieter and his coloring went from red to purple.

“Let me tell you something, you cocky son of a bitch, I’ll have you begging me for life, pleading with me for death. Do you hear me?!”

His leg kicked out in an effort to get away from the grip, his hands grappling desperately before falling to his sides. With one last rise of his chest, that too went still as a blue tinge tainted his lips.

“Allen?!”

The venom in Allen’s eyes dissipated as his head jerked to the sound of Doctor Murdoch’s sharp tone.

“What are you doing?!”

Dean stood stock still for a moment, his mind processing all the information at once. The anger, while not gone, was suddenly vented toward something useful. It was as if a light bulb suddenly sparked over Dean Winchester’s head before he moved to the table and sat between Bobby and Gary, though neither man got his attention … that went directly to Sam’s laptop. The tapping of keys filled the room as all eyes were focused on the eldest Winchester, though Dean didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he focused on his search.

“Huh….”

The sound was more to himself than anyone else as he stared at the most recent picture of one Daniel Murdoch. Staring a moment, he began typing again, his brows furrowing as he took on Sam’s usual role … that of geeky investigator. After a few more clicks, he paused and stared, his face first furrowing in concentration, and then going lax as realization settled in.

“I know that man. Not only do I know him … but he’s in town…”

He turned the laptop toward the other three, showing an older man than Dean remembered, but definitely the same man. The article in the local newspaper showing Murdoch’s arrival, along with plans to restore and reopen Sunnydale Hospital.

“Dean … ?”

“What Sammy?”

The last was said with exasperation, and Sam knew he was treading on thin ice with his brother. He’d already pushed his limits ten pushes ago, but somehow he just couldn’t stop this one last shove.

“If you play ball with me, I won’t tell daddy that you…”

But that was all Sam got out before his thirteen year old brother rose from the chair and towered over him. Being nine certainly had its disadvantages.

“Go away Sam!!”

“But Dean, I…”

“No buts! I don’t want to play with you, I don’t want you around. Sometimes I wish I never had a kid brother at all!”

“Breathe you bastard!”

Sam, somewhere above the level of little kid, but definitely lower than adult, or even teenager, couldn’t stop the tears that welled in hazels eyes. His mouth opened, quivered with the threat of tears, and he turned and ran down the hall to the bedroom he and Dean shared, only to slam and lock the door.

“You don’t get to die until I tell you to, breathe damn you!”

“Sam … Sammy wait!”

Dean, instantly regretting his choice of words, stood stock still for a moment before giving chase, but he wasn’t quite fast enough as the door all but closed in his face. Grabbing the knob, he turned it, but again he was a second too late, and the lock clicked just an instant before his hand took hold. Hitting the door with his hand, he yelled.

“Damn it, Sam, open this door right now!”

“Allen, go get Doris. Now!”

Apparently threats were not going to work, and neither was losing his temper. Sighing, Dean breathed in and out, willing himself to calm, willing his heart to slow as the image of his kid brother’s face flashed before his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean it…”

“One-one thousand … two-one thousand….”

“Come on Sammy, I … life would be pretty boring without you, you know that kiddo? In fact … I’m … I’m not sure I could make it without my geeky sidekick of a brother…”

Suddenly the door opened to reveal a teary-eyed Sam standing there, his lower lip quivering, his breath …

… sucked in suddenly in a gasp for air, a grasp for life. The sounds around him slowly swam in his head in a loud cacophony that was too much to handle. Turning suddenly onto his side, he coughed then threw up the crumbs that he’d managed to force down at some point, his chest heaving with the efforts before his head dropped to settle on his arm.

“Look at me.”

Blinking, the sound of a voice filled his head, though he didn’t make out the words, just the tone. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered at that moment but sleep … pure blissful sleep.

“I said look at me.”

Sam ignored it this time, the words echoing the demand in his head, a demand he refused to heed to. Sam hadn’t even obeyed his father, so who did this bastard think he was? A grin curled his lips, then a soft chuckle emitted.

“I think he’s gone crazy, Doc…”

But Sam had ceased listening; instead he fell into the lulling sounds of his own heartbeat, though the smile remained. Sam knew something they failed to see; even if they killed him, and they probably would, they were going to die … Dean would see to that.

Sam had never been surer of anything else in his life as he was of that.

“So you’re telling me this doctor’s dead wife was the vengeful spirit?”

“Yup.”

His word came at the same time as his foot pressed harder onto the accelerator.

“So the doctor, because his wife died, tries to find the key to immortality?”

Gary looked at Dean incredulously as they sped across the back roads of this one-horse town in search of a needle in a haystack. It was maybe a long shot, but the only shot they had at this moment, but a shot that Dean Winchester was grappling at just the same.

Following the black impala was Joshua’s truck of the same color. The lack of color in both vehicles making them rather nondescript, something hunters craved. Gary tried drawing Dean out of the shell he was obviously in ever since realizing that the whacko doctor and the vengeful spirit’s madman husband were one in the same. But nothing was going to lure Dean into pleasantries when he was close to finding his brother.

Nothing else mattered.

The impala came to a halt along the side road that led to the hospital, Joshua’s truck sliding in right behind it. Four doors opened at once, and closed just with one slam. The sun was lowering slowly across the sky, making the hunters drink in what they could of the landscape, though it went without saying that they would wait until the cover of darkness cloaked them in blackness and gave them an advantage over almost anyone.

“I’m going in first…”

Dean’s head spun to stare at Joshua as if he’d lost what little mind he had left.

“You’ve got to be crazy if you think I … “

“Dean, if this is the madman that has Sam, he’ll be expecting you to come charging in, guns blazing. Let’s not give him that advantage. If he does have Sam, the element of surprise is the only thing we have.”

Dean wanted to argue, in fact, his mouth opened to do just that, but closed just as quickly. No matter what his gut told him, Joshua was right … Sam’s only chance stood on them taking them on by total surprise.

“Fine. I don’t like it, but fine.”

As Gary tugged out a map and the other three began discussing strategy in who was going in where, Dean stared at the building that, on inspection this close, was not so abandoned, what with the lights on and all. Hang on Sammy, I’m coming.

“What are you doing?”

Daniel Murdoch was not shocked by much anymore, but two men at his wife’s unmarked grave was enough to send him into panic.

“We’re here to help, sir, if you’ll just step back.”

Suddenly there was a drop in temperature and an unearthly screech before the form of his beloved Clara took shape.

“Dean, rifle, now!”

A blast echoed through the night, the wail of his dead spouse all but deafening before it stopped altogether as she dissipated.

“All right, get the salt, I’ve got the gasoline.”

“Got it, dad…”

“Wait … salt? Gasoline? You’re going to … burn her remains?”

Doctor Murdoch was stupefied. In all the years of the things he’s seen, the things he’s done, this just mystified him.

“We’re going to put her to rest.”

“You mean kill her?”

That got him moving toward the pair of men that were covered in the dirt she’d been buried in. The elder one, the one the younger man called ‘dad’ was definitely in charge, though there was something burning in the younger man’s eyes that Daniel would later recall on many a sleepless night.

“You can’t do that!”

“She’s already dead!”

Another wail began, and again the younger man, Dean aimed the rifle at his love and fired. He could hear her pain in the pitch of her scream and covered his ears. So busy trying to drown out the sound of his wife’s pain that he didn’t see the strike of the match until it was tossed into the grave. That is, until it was too late.

Clara’s cry built to such a pitch he all but screamed himself as flames engulfed her remains.

“Oh God, you’ve killed her!”

“Sir…”

Daniel had been sitting in the room that held the youngest Winchester, staring at the man that would exact his revenge.

“Yes, Allen?”

He looked at his employee, the one that had nearly taken that away from him. Something had changed between them. It was indiscernible, but there just the same. Didn’t matter, his plan was falling into place.

“Dean Winchester is here.”

“Are you certain?”

Allen smirked, the look saying far more than any words could have. With that, Daniel smiled.

Moving right to Sam, he reached down and jerked his head up by a handful of shaggy brown locks, the groggy awakening of his young prisoner soon changing with the words he conveyed.

“Your brother is here.”

Oh suddenly there was such hope in his eyes, it was so thick it was nearly palpable. Then, with a devious smile, he patted the younger man’s cheek.

“Come boy, it’s time to meet God…”

The look changed then, realization finally coming to the young Sam Winchester. Realization of what exactly the mad doctor had in mind.

“Nu….”

His throat was scratchy and raw, but the word came just the same as Sam struggled to move away from his captor. But Allen closed in, Sam’s further protests thwarted as he was gagged before his arms were jerked roughly behind him, causing what would have been a yell from the man, as his wrists were bound.

It was then that Allen saw what he’d been longing for … fear. Grinning sadistically, he leaned toward the man’s ear as the doctor moved toward the window to gaze out.

“Don’t worry boy … it won’t hurt … much.