He was getting god-damned tired of getting hit on the back of the head. He was getting god-damned tired of getting sucker punched and not striking back. Those were his first thoughts as consciousness crept back to him. And then other thoughts and realizations began to drift into his befuddled mind and pounding head. He was shackled with his arms behind him. He tugged but the shackles didn't give, in fact, they pulled at the chain attached to the metal collar around his throat and the hobbles on his ankles. The metal collar was lined with short nails that dug painfully into his neck. What the fuck? He opened his eyes as he felt the movement under him, heard the roar of the engine and the wheels on the road. It took him only a moment to recognize that he was in a car trunk.

He tried to shift, but his large frame put him at a disadvantage. There wasn't room to try to use his strength to break free. And the chain on the shackles ran back to another chain, one attached somewhere behind him in the trunk and further kept him from moving much. He sighed and relaxed. There was no point in fighting. They knew he was a vampire. The chains would be too strong for him to break. He wondered if they had taken the others or killed them? He laughed bitterly to himself. It didn't matter. Didn't matter if they planned on killing him. With Dean leaving him, he probably would have sought out death himself soon enough. Either Dean was dead, or captured. Same for Jacob and Bobby. It was ironic that Jacob would die at the hands of vampires, having survived a nest those almost eighty years ago. Bobby? He didn't give a shit about the man. He was the reason things had gone to hell, Jake had interceded, and Dean was leaving him. If the man was dead, he was glad for it.

Dean. Whatever Dean's fate, he would have to steel himself against it. If Dean were dead, it was probably better. Dean didn't want to be an "anti-vampire" and have the chance of something like a normal life that Sam offered him. He may well have sought death out himself, mistakenly believing only a machete would kill him. He was still too human for that to be the case. At least Sam assumed that would probably be the case, but who knew? Maybe Dean was more vampire than he realized.

If Dean were alive? He would get to watch them torture Dean and he could not, absolutely could not, reveal Dean was his bloodmate. With all of Dean's very fresh hickies, they would suspect Dean was his lover. That thought made him almost laugh. He stoked that anger. Dean had no interest in him other than what the blood caused. If Dean were alive, the smell of Sam's blood would turn Dean protective. They would assume Dean loved Sam deeply and that was probably a good thing. They would torture Sam in front of Dean, probably blaming the hunters equally for the destruction of their previous nest and better Sam be tortured than Dean.

They would probably be baffled by Dean. They would surely assume Dean had turned but Dean wouldn't have vampire teeth. If they drained Dean enough, Dean would probably crave vampire blood and take what was offered him, providing it was vampire blood, supporting the idea he was a vampire. If they drove Dean to needing vampire blood and tried to feed off of him, that would be funny as hell watching the anti-virus nail someone. That poisoned blood hurt like a son of a bitch. And not having vampiric teeth wouldn't stop Dean from ripping someone's throat out. Dean hadn't tore his throat open only because he was Sam's bloodmate. Human teeth hurt far worse than vampire teeth and few vampires could prevent themselves from using their fangs in the process of feeding. Yes, Dean would confuse them. If he were alive.

Sam realized if they did blame the hunters equally, Dean would have been taken as he was. If they were after pure vengeance, they might even have left Jacob and Bobby alive, intent only on grabbing Sam and Dean. His phone was on the kitchen table. Jacob would be able to track down other sources of food. Lenore was in his phone book, after all and that comforted him to know Jacob would die writhing in pain as the mutated virus ate him up from the inside out.

Sam also knew they would leave Sam alive for a long time. Put him into bloodlust so he would kill whatever they put in front of him. If they thought it would bother him to drain a human, they were wrong. Child, man, woman. Didn't matter. He didn't kill simply because he chose not to kill, because he didn't have to to live. If he had no other choice, he was like any other vampire. He would do what he had to to survive and he had killed before. Okay, maybe it would bother him a little. Many vampires got their rocks off listen to humans weep and cry and couldn't fathom vegetarians. Most vegetarians didn't kill humans because it kept hunters off their backs. Plain and simple. Sure, they could wax on the sanctity of life and all that bullshit but at the core of it all, humans were prey like any other animal and were a source of food, an admittedly delicious source of food. Blood that wasn't human tasted pretty rank anyhow but there were no bodies to bury at least.

With another heavy sigh, Sam accepted his fate. To be their tortured and long-lived slave. Probably sex toy as well. It really didn't matter to him. He hurt too much inside, the exterior pain would be welcome distraction from his tortured thoughts. Certainly, given the opportunity he would attempt to escape, but it was unlikely that opportunity would come anytime soon. With that thought, he let himself drift back into sleep. Who knew how far they would drive until they found a new nest.

Dean only remembered a little bit of how he’d gotten here, brief flickering moments of clarity between long periods of darkness, further blurred by the intense pain in his skull. He most surely had a concussion. The blood from the head wound had dried in his hair in sticky clumps, and covered the left side of his face and down his neck. It itched.

He’d woken up briefly in the trunk of the car. He’d tried to itch his face, scratch away a little of the sticky drying blood that had been bothering him, but he couldn’t move his arms. His wrists bound securely behind him. It was too dark for him to see anything and he’d only known he was inside a trunk because of the smell of grease and the loud rumbling of the engine that only made his head throb worse. They must have hit a pot hole or something then because the jostling sent an intense pain through his chest and he blacked out again.

His chest still ached with sharp spikes of pain with every breath he took, confirming that he had broken or at least fractured a rib or two. It hurt worse now that his arms were pulled securely over his head, chained at his wrists. His feet not touching the ground and putting pressure on his arms and shoulders and chest. It hurt a lot, and he was pretty sure he’d screamed when they first chained him up like this before he’d blacked out again.

He’d woken up when they’d dragged him out of the trunk. He remembered it because he remembered hitting the ground. He remembered not being able to breath and moaning in agony and hearing them laughing around him. He’d lifted his head and saw them dragging out another body out of another car, but he hadn’t been able to make out the man’s face, his eyes unfocused and seeing double at that point.

They’d hauled him up, dragging him along because his feet had been shackled too, like his hands, not that he could have walked anyway. He remembered them dumping him on the ground again. Undoing the chains behind him just so they could chain his wrists again above him, hoisting him up, putting him in the position he was now. Yes, he had screamed, because he’d began to struggle instinctively and one of them had hit him in the stomach, too close to his cracked or broken ribs and the pain had made him lose consciousness. Though not before he felt them ripping off his shirt…

He had no idea how much time had passed since then. The dried blood was still on his face, it still itched. He was cold. Cold everywhere. So they obviously hadn’t stopped with just his shirt. He tasted blood in his mouth, and his jaw hurt. The second blow to his face made his head snap to the side, feeling like it might just fall off his shoulders from the force. Ok, so that’s what woke him up this time. Dean spit out a mouthful of blood and slit his eyes open but he didn’t lift his head. That was ok, because someone did it for him, long nails digging into his jaw, forcing his chin and eyes up.

“Hello again, pretty. Did you miss me?” The vampire matriarch practically purred but her voice was anything but kind.

When the crunch of gravel sounded beneath the tires, Sam snapped awake instantly. They were likely "here," at the new nest and his new "home." Perhaps they would just toy with him for awhile and kill him. He could hope.

The trunk of the car sprang open and he felt the chain on the back of his shackles loosen. He stared up into the face of two of the vampires from the nest he had attacked. One was 'Michael,' if recalled correctly. How ironic.

"Hope you've been comfortable," the matriarch said sweetly, peering in at him. She motioned to the other two vampires staring down at Sam. "Get him out of there."

The two men reached in and Sam couldn't help himself. One was stupid enough to get in range. He snapped at one of the wrists and buried his fangs deeply, drinking the blood that spewed from the man's wrist hungrily. The other vampire tried to pull free, but Sam held him there, listening to him cuss a blue streak, biting down harder and feeling bones break as the collar at his throat shifted and dug into his sensitive neck. The second vampire punched Sam in the face but it took multiple blows before Sam had to struggle to stay conscious and in the process his jaw relaxed, letting the man go free.

Sam chuckled. "Real winners you've got, Bitch. A little short in the brain department, though."

"Her name is Vanessa," the one who had already hit Sam multiple times snapped and punched him again.

Sam groaned as his vision swam. At this point between getting whacked in the back of the head for the second time in a few days, getting punched by Bobby, and now the vampire, he had little doubt he had a concussion and his ringing head agreed. He was pulled out of the trunk and dropped onto the gravel, his stiff limbs reluctant to unfold, the sharp edged gravel biting into his flesh. Michael kicked him in the gut. "On your feet."

Sam turned his head when he heard laughter to his right. Dean. The wind was to Dean's back and the smell of Dean's blood made his breath hitch. We watched as they dragged Dean away. He could hear Dean's moans, hear his labored breathing and a soft growl escaped him before he could bite it back. Fortunately Michael mistook it for the kick he'd given to Sam's gut and kicked him again.

"Get up," he ordered.

Sam pushed himself upright and got his knees under him. Slowly he stood, licking away what blood he could from around his lips. He smirked at the one whose wrist he'd broken. Michael grabbed the chain running down Sam's back, attached to the collar on one end and his shackles on the other. He gave a yank, driving the nails into Sam's neck. Despite himself, Sam inhaled sharply. He could feel the blood running down his neck. He looked at Vanessa.

"So what's the plan, Bitch? Am I your new play toy?" God his head hurt.

Vanessa approached him and ran her index finger through the blood on his neck, licking it from her finger. "We're going to have a lot of fun together. Well, I'm going to have a lot of fun with you. I don't think fun is what you'll call it."

Sam snorted. "So fucking predictable. Just put me in my new cage or chain me up, or whatever you plan to do. Just get on with it so I don't have to look at your ugly face and hear your bitchy voice any longer than I have to."

Vanessa's eyes narrowed and she punched him hard in the gut, doubling him over, the collar tearing into his throat. She exposed her fangs and bit deeply into his shoulder and drank. Two of the other vampires held him there so she could feed. After a minute she withdrew her fangs then licked at the blood still seeping. Anger filled him and he growled, drawing a laugh from her.

"Put him next to his partner. How's your partner--or should I say lover?—like being one of us?"

"You'd have to ask him. I don't fuck my partners. That was his last meal who gave him those."

She laughed delightedly and waved them away. Sam straightened, easing the tension in the chain with a small measure of relief. Two of the nest pushed him toward the barn. He stumbled, the chain between his ankles shorter than he expected. Barely, he managed to stay on his feet and shuffle toward the building.

He heard Dean's scream and it took every ounce of his control not to react, to keep his shuffle steady, to keep his heart rate unchanged. When he reached the door, he saw that Dean was strung up from a rafter, his feet not touching the ground. Dried blood coated the side of his face, his breathing was labored and he was out cold. They were removing his pants.

He saw a chain ready for him. Yeah. And they thought he was docilely going to put his hands over his head and let them string him up? Sure. You bet.

He should have seen it coming. Really he should have. But all he saw was stars followed by darkness as pain exploded in the back of his skull. Again.

“Fuck you…” Dean managed to groan out, though it wasn’t easy considering the way his jaw was being held. The vampire bitch didn’t answer, merely released him and backhanded him hard across the face and any harder and she would have surely dislocated his jaw. Fresh blood was dripping down his cheek from the new cut there and she grabbed his face again to keep him from pulling away as she leaned in and licked it way.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to that later…” She purred in his ear before pulling away and snapping her fingers. “Wake up the other one.”

Other one?

Dean managed somehow to turn his face despite the fact that his neck felt like it was suffering from whiplash and he blinked a few times, managing to focus on the man chained up beside him. Naked and bloody, just like he was… Sam…

He didn’t even realize his heart had sped up a little upon seeing Sam until the vampire bitch chuckled throatily.

“Ah, so it is personal. Thought so. That will make this all the more fun.”

The blade being drawn down his chest, blood dripping from the shallow wound, tugged at his consciousness. Sam groaned and tried to pull away from the pain but he couldn't. He was hanging by his wrists, his shoulders ached his head felt like someone was practicing drums on the inside of his skull. When he opened his eyes his vision was nearly doubled and he had trouble focusing. But he could smell the raven-haired bitch, and he could smell Dean.

He immediately clamped down on his heart rate, on his breathing. His brain wasn't really making connections very clearly, but he knew she couldn't know he and Dean were bloodmates.

"Well if it isn't Ugly Bitch," Sam said, struggling not to slur his words. He was cold, he hurt, and he decided maybe just having a hole in his chest because Dean left him wasn't such a bad alternative to the current situation.

Her backhand snapped his head sideways and he groaned as his vision momentarily darkened.

"You'll address me properly, Sammy. My name is Vanessa." She dug her nail along the wound the knife had made raking already damaged nerves.

"Sure thing Bitchnessa," he gasped.

She snapped her fingers, demanding the knife that had been used on him to awaken him. She cut a fresh gash beside the first, but deeper than the first. "I'll keep carving until you get it right."

Sam's groans grew louder and edged toward screams as she worked her way around him.

Laughing weakly, Sam said, "What, am I your rotisserie boy-toy, Bitchnessa?"

She made a second pass around him, deepening the cuts she had previously made. Sam chanted "bitchessa" between every scream she pulled from him. Frustrated, she put the knife to his throat and began making light incisions.

She leaned in, unable to resist the blood any longer and lapped at the crimson coming from his throat. Softly she said, "You know how painful it is to heal wounds like these, especially if I start to cut deeper. Like the neck wound you gave me. And all that blood you're loosing, and the cold, will ensure it takes a long, painful time to heal. You know I'm not going to kill you anytime soon, but I could cut your trachea, or more. All for a simple little name."

She cut a little deeper, a little longer. Then again.

He knew she was right. His heart rate had already slowed, his body temperature had already dropped as his system tried to prevent the loss of further blood and tried to repair the damage already done. His brain was getting fuzzy and he heard someone telling him to do what she asked. Someone who was important to him.

"Vanessa," Sam finally relented, grounding out the name.

"Good Boy," she cooed and ran the knife over her palm, slicing it open. "Head back, Darling, and I'll replace a little of what you've lost."

Sam saw the cut and smelled her blood and felt the hunger begin to gnaw. He had lost a good deal of his own blood. To heal quickly he needed it replenished. His head hurt enough it didn't occur to him that Dean was watching, that she was rewarding him for "proper behavior," potentially starting to condition him.

Her blood smelled rich, like Stasi's had been. Rich and thick and delicious like only an old one's blood was. The reminder of Stasi began to muddle his thoughts. Hurt. Thirsty. Those were the only two thoughts beginning to swim in his mind, the concussion ruining any attempt he made at stringing more together. Hurt. Thirsty.

"I'll feed you," she said. "Tilt your head back."

He let his head fall back and the pressure he put on the back of his skull was a hot spike of agony and he struggled to hold on to consciousness. The warm liquid dribbled onto his lips and he licked at it then opened his mouth, greedily accepting the stream of blood flowing from her hand. Her blood tasted so damned good, so damned rich, and when she stopped the flow, a small whine escaped him.

"What's my name?" she asked.

"Anastasia…" Sam whispered and began to drift off, a slight smile coming to his lips. He thought he heard somebody yelling curses at him or yelling something, but he didn't care. His Stasi was back and an old one's blood would help him heal quickly. His Stasi would save him, end his pain. Her sweet smell filled him. He had no idea she was a bloodmate. He didn't remember that. But there was no denying that scent and he embraced it as the darkness took him once again.

"Dammit," Vanessa growled. She did want Cristo around for awhile. He shouldn't have passed out that quickly. "Lower him down!" she yelled at one of her children.

Once he was on the ground she examined the back of Sam's head. It was was bloody, badly bloody. He needed to heal if she was going to have any fun with him at all.

"Put him in the cage, keep him shackled, a length of chain locked to one of the rings we put in."

Dean could do nothing but watch as they “woke” up Sam. He tried to feel nothing as the vampire bitch used the knife on the other hunter, carving it brutally into Sam’s flesh. The scent of Sam’s blood reminding him all too well of how the other man had betrayed him… but no matter how pissed off at Sam Dean might be, Dean would have never wished this on the other hunter.

The man who had rescued him, even though he’d refused to keep his promise and kill Dean when he’d began to turn. The man who had saved his life, more than once, but had lied to him, telling him he was human when he was really some kind of freak. The man who’d used him, but also said that he’d… loved him. The man Dean had every reason to hate but as he listened to Sam’s groans of pain turn to screams he couldn’t hold onto that anger no matter how hard he tried.

As he watched her put the blade to Sam’s bloody throat, cutting him, fearful that she might actually kill the other man right here and now and all Dean could do was watch, something inside him snapped.

“God, Sam, please… just do what she says, please…” Dean begged, begged Sam to save his own life. A part of him hating himself for asking Sam to give in, but he just couldn’t watch Sam die. He just couldn’t. Not like this…

Dean could have sobbed in relief when Sam finally told her what she wanted to hear, the fucking bitch’s name sounding like a vile curse, but it was enough to make her stop. His relief unfortunately was short lived and his eyes widened in horror when he watched her cut open her hand, putting it to Sam’s lips.

“NO! Sam! Don’t drink! God damn you, you fucking bitch! Sam!” Dean began to yell, and curse, twisting, fighting against the chains and not giving a flying fuck how much it hurt. Dean’s blood turned to ice in his veins as he watched Sam lick at the wound, drink… “NO! I’m going to kill you, you fucking cunt!”

The sudden blow to his stomach from one of the other vampires knocked the air clean out of his lungs and the agony that radiated through his body almost made him pass out again right then in there. He gasped, wheezing for breath, tasting blood in his mouth once more and Dean wasn’t all that certain at that point it was just from being hit over the mouth several times. He had no idea what was going on at that point. Couldn’t hear anything over his own struggling breaths, couldn’t see past the dark spots swimming in front of his eyes.

His chin was suddenly forced up again, even though he couldn’t focus on anything in front of him.

“Oh, don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, pretty.” She purred, and as he felt the blade, already slick with Sam’s blood cut into his flesh, he barely realized the one he heard screaming now was himself.

His head still throbbed, still pounded with spikes of pain, but the screaming drew him back. He opened his eyes, groaning at the light. Another scream cut through his soul. The scent of his bloodmate was everywhere, his pain a bitter taint in Sam's mouth, his fear a tangible scent, his blood, his blood everywhere.

Sam staggered to his feet. His hands were cuffed in front of him and a chain ran from the chain between the shackles and through the bars of the cage. Sam tried to sort the images out. He didn't really understand why he was cuffed, why his head hurt so damned much, and why his chest and back hurt. He looked down and saw his chest coated with blood. His own blood.

Another scream cut through his foggy thoughts and his gaze snapped up to his bloodmate being tortured by the bitch.

Everything crystallized, everything rushed back to him. "Stop it!" Sam yelled at her. "Please, Vanessa, please stop," he begged. "Dean," he whispered.

He watched as she ignored him, as she continued to cut on him. When Sam saw her pull the blade back, ready to plunge it into his gut, he shouted. "No! He's human! You'll kill him! He didn't turn! Oh God, please, listen to his heart! He's human!" His mouth went suddenly dry as he watched her hesitate. "Please, Vanessa, please," Sam begged, feeling the tears and cursing himself for giving away that he loved Dean. "He's human…"

Dean coughed. Choking on his own blood. Choking on his own screams. Fuck, he thought what they’d done to him before, the first time he’d been their prisoner had been bad. The bitch wasn’t pulling any punches this time. The blade carving into his skin, almost down to the muscle, was like fire and he thrashed in the chains that held him suspended over the floor. His blood was dripping in steady streams down his chest, thighs, and legs. He knew he was going to pass out again soon, if not from the pain then the blood loss. He was honestly surprised he hadn’t passed out already. Though the pain of the knife digging long rents along his already damaged ribs might have had something to do with that.

At first Dean barely heard Sam’s shouts over the sound of his own hoarse scream. The sheer anguish he head in the other man’s voice, the pain that he had never displayed even when he had been the one being tortured, cut into Dean deeper than the knife running along his skin. Sam hadn’t begged the bitch to stop for himself, but he was begging her now, for him…

“Sam…” The other man’s name was barely a breath on his red stained lips, but she heard it loud and clear and laughed in pleasure. Yes, this was better than she could have ever dreamed. Hearing the “great” Samuel Cristo begging like a pathetic dog for her to stop carving up his little boy toy.

She saw the new vampire’s eyes rolling into the back of his head, and knew he was going to lose consciousness again soon, which would be no fun at all. She adjusted her grip on the blood soaked knife, ready to jam it into his gut to wake the pretty little hunter back up when Cristo’s words made her freeze in spite of herself.

Human… that was impossible, she had fed him her blood herself…

Turning to look at Cristo her glee at seeing the big bad vampire who hunted his own kind reduced to tears was tempered by the fact that she could see no lie in his eyes either. She stopped and listened, the man’s breaths were wheezing and ragged, wet, a sure sign one of his lungs had probably been damaged during the abuse he’d taken. His heart… it was beating weak but fast. Far too fast for a newly turned vampire that didn’t know how to control his heart rate.

“Hold him!” She barked, and stepped closer to Dean. Another vampire gripped his head, yanking it back. She grabbed his jaw tightly to keep him from possibly biting her, though it didn’t seem necessary since the man merely hung limp and unmoving in the chains at this point. She forced his mouth open, feeling around his teeth and gums for the newly formed fangs that should have been there… but weren’t. She released Dean suddenly as though he had burned her.

He was human… the little bastard was still human! How the fuck was that possible?

“Get him down.” She finally snapped, knowing at this point she really didn’t have much choice unless she wanted to kill the hunter. While watching Cristo’s face as she spilled the guts of the man he loved all over the floor would have been satisfying, she had never planned for this to be over quickly. Not with all of their kind that Cristo had murdered. Not after murdering her children. No, she was going to make Sam suffer, and had the perfect thing to do it with… if he survived.

When they released Dean from shackles he crumbled like a puppet with his strings cut.

Sam watched as she confirmed what he told her. He fell to his knees, from relief, from anguish, from the concussion. He didn't know. He didn't care. When they released Dean Sam's breath hitched. 'Don't let him die' was his sole thought as fear clutched his heart. It would be better if Dean did. He knew that. He knew he had given Vanessa a weapon that she would wield effectively against him and Dean was that tool. Where as escape had been almost irrelevant to him before, it now became a priority. He had to get Dean out of here. He had to find a way.

He watched them drag Dean over to the cage he was in. They didn't have to tell him to move back. He crawled to the rear of the cage, fighting against the concussion that tried to bring darkness back to him. As soon as they left Dean and shut the cage, Sam moved forward and examined her handiwork, felt for broken bones and checked Dean's head, feeling Vanessa's calculating eyes on him the entire time. The scent of Dean's blood was overwhelming, but all it did was drive fear deeply into him, coiling inside of him like venom. The feel of Dean's slick blood on his hands was the knife in the gut Vanessa had threatened Dean with.

Sam's voice was cold and unemotional. "Since he's human, I need water and bandages and food for him. Antibiotics would be good, too. Unless you want him to die."

She eyed Cristo, seeing the slight tremor in his hands, hearing the strain in his voice, and the heart rate that had practically sky-rocketed. His tears were gone, but she'd see them again. She would cause them again. She would have him grovel and beg at her feet for the life of his love. There might come a time Sam would kill his love rather than have him suffer anymore under her skillful hands, but that wouldn't be today. He was not ready to lose Dean today.

"And just how is he still human?" she asked as she approached Sam's cage.

Sam didn't look up as continued to examine Dean, checking for more injuries. "You've lived long enough to see it happen. Sometimes people don't turn. It's rare, but it happens. He didn't turn, so I didn't have to kill him."

A slow smile spread across her face. "And you loved him too much to kill him even if he had. He doesn't know you're a vampire, does he?" she asked, remembering Dean's shouts at them as Sam drank from her.

"No," Sam said softly.

"And how have you kept that from him?" she asked, running her hand along the cold bars of the cage.

"With great diligence," Sam said. She couldn't know that he and Dean had just met as she may well draw the all too correct conclusions. The fact that Sam loved him was bad enough. To learn Dean was his bloodmate…he nearly shuddered at the thought. Using their blood attraction against one another would be even worse.

"So what would you do to earn these bandages and food and water for the pretty boy?"

Sam ground his teeth. He could say the obvious. If she wanted Dean to live, she needed to provide these things for him. But she might be willing to let Dean suffer for a longer time, risking his death just to torture Sam.

"Name it," he spat.

Her gleeful laughter rang in the barn. Sam Cristo was her dog, at her beck and call, at every whim she had, all for the sake of the life of the human hunter he loved. Pathetic.

"Get the things he'll need to save pretty boy," she ordered. "While were waiting," she said to Sam, "I have a few tricks for you to perform for me…"

Sam closed his eyes briefly before pushing himself unsteadily to his feet.

Dean woke up wishing he was dead.

He hurt everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. It reminded him of when he'd been beaten and raped by that bastard when he was seventeen. He'd wanted to die then when he woke up. When every movement he made reminded him painfully of what had been done to him. He wished the bastard had simply killed him instead of letting him go.

Dean felt that way now. Every weak shaking breath he took reminded him of his broken ribs and probably punctured lung. The taste of blood in his mouth and the swollen throbbing in his face reminding him of how he'd been hit, lost count of how many times he'd been hit. His skull felt like it was splitting apart. His arms, legs, chest felt shredded beneath the tight bandages wrapped around him.

Perhaps the worst of it was he knew it wasn't over. Even though he couldn't open his eyes right away after waking he knew exactly where he was. He knew from the smell. He recognized the smell of the old barn. He recognized the smell of them, the vampires. He could smell her… It made him want to vomit…

But he could smell him too. He could smell Sam's blood as heavily as he could smell his own. Dean's stomach clenched as he remember watching that blood being spilled. Remembering the sound of Sam screaming in pain. He remembered how the smell of Sam's blood had affected him before, back at Jacob's, but now… his heart twisted in his chest at the smell of Sam's blood now… It made him want to cry. Just curl up into a ball and sob his eyes out.

He didn't want Sam to be here. He didn't want Sam in pain like that. At the same time Dean was guiltily glad that he wasn't alone.

Slowly Dean forced his eyes open… well one eye anyway… the other was too swollen to even open a crack. He honestly wasn't surprised that Sam was the first thing he saw when his vision finally cleared, mostly cleared anyway. The other man's worried face hovering over him. He realized then that his head and shoulders were being supported in Sam's lap. He tried to force a slight smile to his lips, though it probably looked more like a grimace than anything.

"So, guess it wasn't all just a bad dream. Damn." Dean croaked out, coughing at his last word caught in his throat and winced sharply at the pain it sent through his chest. God damn that hurt.

Sam wanted to rest his back against the bars, but the long gashes in it precluded that possibility for now. If he'd been able to bandage his back it might be tolerable, but he wasn't permitted to. Only Dean's wounds could be tended. And he had tended them. After he had gotten back from Vanessa's games. He could still taste the young man's blood. The young man had been fed from, but was still lucid. She made Sam finish draining him. Slowly. As he begged for his life. The young man would be killed regardless of whether he did the killing or not, and he needed the blood to heal. That was, of course, part of the reason she had Sam feed. But to make him bite and drink and release, then inflict a bite in a different location was cruel. She had him do … other things that he didn't care to dwell on either. But those were easy compared to what he knew he would face with each passing day.

His head felt better, clearer since he had fed. The swelling had already gone down from where he had been punched multiple times in the trunk. The wounds the bitch had inflicted were already showing signs of healing. With the clearer head he was able to much more effectively tend to Dean's injuries. They gave him butterfly bandages to close the wounds, which Sam was glad for. Stitches had the great potential to be used as torture, yank them out without cutting them. That would probably come down the road, once Dean was healing up and was tortured again for some imagined disobedience of Sam's.

Sam was glad Dean was unconscious as he set Dean's ribs and wrapped them tightly, as he gingerly cleaned and bandaged each vicious wound she had given him. He had been left alone once he was returned to the cage. They still kept him shackled, still kept the chain running from the shackles to outside the cage. The vampires were on the far side of the barn, chatting, feeding, fucking. He permitted himself tears since he was alone. His bloodmate's injuries were sharp stabs of pain for him. It was his fault. All of this was his fault and he wept silently as he bandaged his love.

Finally done, he resituated himself such that he cradled Dean in his lap. He permitted himself a light doze. Any change in his surrounding would rouse him. It wasn't terribly restful, being more like meditation; it was calming and would help him heal even faster, though he really didn't think that was a good thing. The sooner he healed, the sooner she would torture him again. She might plan on using Dean against Sam, but he knew all too well that she would also extract her pound of flesh from him. Probably a pound of flesh for every vampire he had killed. He would run out of flesh long before that number was reached, for what that was worth.

He wasn't really sure how long he had 'slept' when Dean stirred. The vampires were asleep and it was daytime. That was about all he was certain of. He watched Dean's face anxiously, part of him afraid Dean might not wake up. Who knew how much vampire Dean really had in him and what sort of injuries he could recover from, let alone how fast.

Sam chuckled wearily at Dean's words, relief washing through him even as the cough shook Dean's body. He lightly caressed Dean's cheek, careful of the wicked bruising.

"I'm so sorry for all of this, Dean," Sam said softly, every word etched with pain. His voice became more normal as he told Dean, "I've got some water, some ibuprofen and some antibiotics for you. I've got some food for you too. I went all out. You've got applesauce, a couple of those lunches with cheese and pepperoni and crap, some bread, real fancy shit, let me tell you." He managed a weak smile for the young hunter.

"Okay, so open up for the pills," Sam said, reaching over to the Styrofoam plate and picking up three of the pills he had set out. He dropped them into Dean's mouth and then poured some water in from the sport's bottle, letting him take his time in swallowing them before he offered Dean more water.

Sam's voice dropped to a whisper. "She absolutely can not know we had never met before I found you in their nest. We've been together a year, lovers almost as long, you understand me? We met in New Orleans. Try to remember that, okay? It's very important if she asks that that's what you tell her. Together a year, met in New Orleans."

Dean took a deep careful breath, well, as deep a breath as his damaged ribs would allow once the coughing past. It came out shaky and a little watery, almost setting off another coughing fit but he managed to contain it this time, not wanting to go through that pain again anytime soon.

The light touch of Sam’s fingers along his cheek made him sigh softly in spite of himself, leaning into the touch as much as he could. Eager for something that didn’t bring on more pain.

He wasn’t really sure how to handle Sam’s apology. Of course Dean remembered what had happened before, at Jacob’s house, how angry he’d been at Sam… but that all seemed very trivial now. In fact, Dean felt like the biggest idiot and asshole in the universe right about now. After everything Sam had done for him… was doing for him now… Sam could have left him to die in the nest before, could have killed him right away when he found him, could have left him to fend for himself injured and helpless, could have left him to turn…

Instead Sam had stayed with him, took care of him at every turn, had never given up on him, was taking care of him now even after everything… Yeah, so Dean had been pissed Sam had left out a few details about his “cure”, he’d been enraged about Sam taking advantage of… something Dean didn’t even really understand… Yeah, Sam had fucked him, but it wasn’t as though he’d forced him, hurt him, not like he’d been forced and hurt before. So, yeah, all of that seemed pretty damned trivial right about now.

Sam had told Jacob he loved him, Sam had asked Dean to stay with him, Sam had made love to him… It was so… strange… thinking of anyone caring for him like Sam cared for him. It was so hard to believe… but it was also hard to deny when it was staring at him right in the face right now.

“You just think I’m going to put out.” Dean managed, a small smile playing on his lips when Sam listed off the things he had for him, he wasn’t too ready for food right now but the painkillers and water would definitely be welcome. He managed to open his mouth despite the ache in his jaw and even managed not to choke on the pills and water thanks to Sam’s help.

Even that small act seemed to exhaust him and he could tell he wasn’t going to be able to stay awake for much longer. His eyelids growing heavier by the second. Sam’s urgent whispered words made him fight against the pull however and he looked up at the other man questioningly. He didn’t understand. How would them pretending to be… lovers… long time lovers, help? Wouldn’t that make things even worse? He wanted to ask why it was so important, but unconsciousness pulled him back under despite how he fought against it.

Dammit. Sam had so much more he needed to talk with Dean about while the vampires were out cold and they could talk in privacy. But at least Dean had woken up and he wasn't a babbling idiot from brain damage or something. Sam could tell Dean's breathing had eased and that his damaged lung seemed to be mending itself. Dean would heal more rapidly than a human would, but little was known or understood about those who survived being turned, so hopefully Vanessa wouldn't make too much of it. Most who survived turning usually died within a few years, and now Sam understood why. They didn't know that they needed vampire blood. Of course, the virus probably didn't always mutate the same way. Maybe Jake's had been different from all the others? At some level all the unknowns were just fucking aggravating.

Sam smiled a little at Dean's comment. Dean putting out for him. Well, it looked like Dean had forgiven him. Or was still loopy from the concussion. Maybe he could sneak in the whole "By the way, I just happen to be a vampire" thing while Dean was in this feel good forgiving mood. Sam laughed a little sadly at that. He had side stepped truth after truth and when Dean found out this truth, he would surely be disgusted with Sam and any hope…

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and gave a sigh. The rollercoaster smacked him in the face again. He tried to believe they would escape Vanessa, but part of him didn't believe it. Part of him told him quite clearly that he would die at Vanessa's hand, long after Vanessa had made him watch her slowly torture Dean to death. Why did he keep trying to cling to the hope that when Dean and he finally had a moment to catch their breaths, when all truths were laid out on the table and they could talk about it, that Dean would be willing to accept him, to …love him.

Because he was a romantic fool.

His love for Dean had doomed Dean to suffer because of that love. Just as his love for Jessica had killed her, so would it kill Dean. He leaned down and brushed his lips over Dean's swollen and bloody ones. And really, wouldn't it be nice for Dean to be healthy enough for Sam to truly make love to him?

That wasn't going to happen. Ever.

He clenched his jaw and tried to find that small flicker of hope that they would escape, and cling to it.

He knew Vanessa would be coming for him soon after the sun set. Dean was stable enough now it seemed that while she couldn't abuse Dean, a promise from her to leave him alone to continue to heal would force Sam to do whatever she wanted. His concussion was healed enough he suspected that tonight he would get to revisit hanging from the chains while she carved into him. He would say what she wanted, he would do what she wanted, so long as it kept Dean safe another night. He hoped Dean would be able to sleep through his screams.

He caressed Dean's face a final time before he let himself drowse off again. It was going to be a very long night.

It was the screams that woke him the next time. Terrible, heart wrenching, agonizing screams that tore at his very soul.

Sam…

The instant Dean opened his eyes he knew Sam wasn’t in the cage with him anymore, but he could smell the other man’s blood stronger now. He could smell the other man’s pain. Taste it. It turned his stomach, made him want to retch, but he forced the feeling back as he forced his arms underneath him. As he pushed himself up on watery arms, ignoring how much it hurt his chest to move. He rolled over onto his side, forced his knees underneath him, crawling to the edge of the bars. Using them to support him as he pulled himself up, not wanting to see, hearing was bad enough, but he had to...

Sam…

Dean’s stomach clenched violently and he couldn’t stop himself from heaving this time. Clutching at the bars to keep himself from doubling over and vomiting up nothing but blood and stomach acid.

The cramping of his stomach hurt so fucking bad, the wounds pulling at the bandages Sam had put on him earlier hurt so bad, his punctured lung, his broken ribs, his head, his face, everything hurt so fucking much right now. But none of that pain was anything compared to seeing Sam like that.

Screaming… oh god screaming so loud…

“Sam…” Dean choked on his sobs, tears streaming down his face.

He finally lost his voice from the screaming. It wasn't long after that that the bitch brought him down from hanging like a fucking piñata. His right wrist was broken and torn to hell and back, the vampire he had bitten taking his revenge on Sam, returning the favor. Then they hoisted him, that broken wrist supporting part of his weight. She began to work on him almost immediately, carving shallow wounds to start with, then burying the knife in him and dragging it downward, or sideways, or upwards, destroying muscle or sinking it into his gut. As he would start to pass out she would stop, would feed him blood, give him a few minutes to regain his senses, and start anew. He wasn't sure if the knife or the hot brand was worse and a part of his mind off in the corner started weighing the benefits and drawbacks to their uses. It brought an absurd laugh to his lips, which only infuriated the bitch matriarch to greater viciousness.

He wasn't sure how long she had tortured him. It felt like an eternity. At one point he was wondering if indeed he hadn't died and was under some demon's talented hands in Hell and this was his fate forever, screaming forever. When they did finally bring him down, a person—man? woman?—he wasn't sure, was brought over to him and he was instructed to feed. He did as he was told. If he didn't…what would happen if he didn't? Dean. Dean would be hurt. So he fed. He couldn't walk yet, she had destroyed the muscle of his left thigh, so they dragged him back to the cage. He coughed blood as they threw him down in the cage. They didn't bother with the shackles this time. He certainly wasn't going anywhere on his own.

She had burned out one of his eyes. That would take a few days to regenerate and hurt like a bitch as it did. He was surprised the pain from the eye registered but she really hadn't done much to his face other than a few cuts along his cheeks. His torso was the source of most of the pain. And that thigh. And that wrist.

He coughed again and wondered how the hell a vampire didn't have to breathe. It was a left over human trait he supposed, and necessary for talking. He hoped he never wondered aloud, certain she would be happy to carve out his lungs just so he could find out. He really didn't want to know that badly.

He was trying to decide if it was worth the effort to sit up. What was really the point in sitting up, after all? He could just lie here and sleep and heal. Tomorrow night she would probably choose some other torment, going for mind games, because physically, he would still be hamburger for the most part. The new dish. Cristo-burgers. God, did his brain go fucked up places when he was roadkill.

He smelled the tears, smelled his bloodmate, and felt a light touch on his face. He struggled to focus and saw Dean staring down at him, horror filling his eyes.

"Hi, beautiful. Come here often?" he rasped, followed by a raking cough as his lungs tried to empty the blood out.

Dean hadn’t been able to watch most of it. Much to his shame, he simply hadn’t. It was too horrible. At some point he’d crawled away to the far edge of the cage. As far as he could get from the gruesome sight, as far away as he could get from the stench of the blood, of his own puke, he’d covered his ears in a vain attempt to cut out the screams and he’d just sobbed. He sobbed until it hurt. He was surprised that he had that many tears in him. He was surprised they hadn’t turned to blood as well…

Stop… Stop, please stop… He’d begged in his mind over and over. His shouts, his curses, his begging had not phased her in the least. She hadn’t even turned her attention away from Sam to look at him, no matter what he said. No matter how vile his curses and threats got, no matter what he begged, promised, if she would just stop…

There were some times he just couldn’t turn his eyes away, and those times were often followed by trying to violently heave his guts out. His throat still burned from all the bile he’d puked up. The stench was pretty horrible. But still it was nothing compared to the smell of all the blood, all the pain, all of it Sam’s. He’d never imagined that pain could actually be a smell. That he could taste agony. It was horrible. He supposed he could thank his new half-breed vampireness on that.

When the screaming finally stopped, Dean was afraid to look up. He hadn’t looked for a while. Hadn’t wanted to see, didn’t want to see now but he was so deathly afraid she had finally killed Sam. He was honestly surprised that the man hadn’t died long before now. Dean knew he would have, if the wounds and blood loss hadn’t killed him long ago the pain itself would have.

They’d lowered Sam to the ground but he wasn’t moving. Dean’s breath froze in his chest. Oh god… he couldn’t be dead… he couldn’t… please. But Sam did move… finally… when they brought an injured girl over to him and… Oh god… oh Jesus… Once more Dean had to turn away, once more feeling the urge to be sick, to cry, to scream and curse, but there was nothing left. Sam…

He’d watched her feed him the blood. He’d watched her torture Sam longer and more horribly than any human could possibly survive. But he still hadn’t let himself believe it. He couldn’t… but now… watching him feed from that poor girl while she screamed…

Dean slowly looked up when he heard the cage door open. His hands curling into fists fighting the urge to rip the vampires who dragged Sam in apart. Yeah, like that was really going to happen. Dean couldn’t even stand up, he could barely move at all, but he still clung to daydreams about ripping the heads off the vampires shoulders with his bare hands. But he didn’t move until they dropped Sam on the ground. Once they were gone he crawled over to the other man’s side as quickly as he could, wincing and holding his ribs.

“God…” Dean breathed, tears once more burning his eyes, and sickness welling up inside of him, but he swallowed it back down. He wasn’t going to puke on Sam. But, fuck, seeing what she’d done from a distance was bad enough. Up close and personal…

Kneeling beside Sam he was afraid to touch the other man at all, afraid his touch would only cause him more pain, but at the same time he needed to touch him. To prove to himself that Sam was still alive. Looking at the man right now, he really had a hard time believing it. When his fingers lightly brushed over Sam’s bloody cheek, the other man’s eyes… eye… opened.

“Shut up.” Dean choked out, tears spilling down his cheeks at the other man’s attempt to joke at a time like this. Though Dean knew if their places were reversed he’d probably be doing the same thing. His fingers slid through Sam’s blood soaked hair, petting tenderly, not giving a flying fuck at the moment about the gore covering his hands.

Seeing Dean's tears almost hurt Sam worse than his injuries. He managed a smile as Dean's hand ran through his hair. He leaned into that gentle loving touch and he reached up to touch Dean's cheek, leaving a light smear of his own blood on that precious face.

"Shh, it's okay lover," Sam whispered. "Don't cry, baby, I'm going to be fine. I'll heal. I can't die until she cuts off my head. You know that. At least--" Sam stopped speaking as the coughing took over. He turned his head and coughed until the last of the blood was out of his lungs. The lungs really didn't like fluid sloshing around inside. Sam lay gasping, trembling from the waves of pain the coughing fit had brought on.

Technically he was dead. How the hell could he be dead and still hurt so much? He almost laughed at that. Almost. He lay there until the worst of the pain eased. When he thought he could speak again, he turned back to focus on Dean's worried face. He could smell the bile, both on Dean's breath and nearby. His blood, the person he had fed from, Dean's blood. It all mixed together into a foul smell, terror, pain, and anguish all accenting the already horrible smell.

"Sorry," Sam murmured. He hurt so badly and wanted to sleep, but he knew he had to tell Dean before Dean heard it from her lips and not his. Dean couldn't hear another of his secrets revealed by someone else. He refused to let that happen again.

"I didn't want you to know but she'll tell you." Sam's hand fell away from Dean's cheek and back to the floor, the strength beginning to leave him. It was becoming such a struggle to fight off sleep. If Dean hated him, at least he wouldn't have to see it until he woke up, when he was able to move, when pain wasn't pounding every nerve like army ants attacking him everywhere with major artillery. "I'm a vampire," he whispered. "This is vengeance…" Oblivion called to him. No, he had to hang on, he had to finish. "I kill my kind…I'm not like them. Don't kill for food. Please," he begged softly, "don't hate me…Don't hate… love you," Sam managed before he couldn't fight it any longer. The demanding fingers of sleep dragged him down, though he fought to see his love's face, to see if Dean hated him. Please don't hate me. He wasn't sure if he managed to say that again or only thought it. A fresh tear slid from his eye as the darkness swallowed him.

Dean closed his eyes when Sam’s hand reached up to touch his face, fighting back the choking tears as the other man tried to reassure him when Sam was the one who looked like he’d been through a fucking meat grinder. The hunter’s reassurance that he couldn’t die until she cut off his head drew a ragged sob from Dean that hurt his healing ribs but he didn’t really care right now. He shook his head, as though trying to deny it even now. Sam couldn’t be… god… he couldn’t be… but if he wasn’t then Sam would be dead right now. Would have been dead hours ago. Dean would have heard him die screaming…

They sat there so long in silence Dean didn’t think Sam was going to speak again, which was fine. The silence, without screams and cries of agony was good. Dean didn’t open his eyes during that time as his fingers continued petting through the long strands sticky and wet with Sam’s blood. It didn’t feel good by any means but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Just wanting… needing… to touch Sam. To offer him something, anything, that wasn’t painful…

Sam’s sudden apology quite frankly shocked the hell out of Dean. Opening his eyes and staring down at the younger man in disbelief. What the hell did Sam have to be sorry for? Surely not for what had happened at Jacob’s? Dean didn’t care about that anymore. Not now for god’s sake. He was already shaking his head, about to tell Sam… he wasn’t sure, that it was ok, that he didn’t care, to shut up again and conserve his strength, but something in Sam’s face silenced him.

Tell him? Tell him what?

Dean almost, almost, laughed when Sam dropped the “bomb” that he was a vampire now. Well, no shit. He didn’t know whether to cry or laugh at the obviousness of that statement, but considering how much pain Sam was probably in, delirious, he could certainly forgive anything stupid that came out of Sam’s mouth.

He didn’t count on Sam continuing. And the more Sam talked the stiller Dean became. So still his fingers had frozen in mid motion stroking Sam’s hair and his breathing was almost non-existent. The way Sam was talking… he didn’t just mean in the last few hours from when she’d given him blood. He meant… all along? He'd always been... All along… oh god…

Dean pulled his hand away from Sam in slow motion. His lungs were no longer frozen. In fact he was breathing so fast he was practically hyperventilating. The whole time… the whole time? Sam was…

He didn’t realize he’d even crawled away from the other man… the vampire… until his back hit the bars on the other side of the cage. A second later he was dry heaving again, crying, screaming, and he didn’t even know what, but whatever it was it obviously amused the other vampires because he heard them laughing. Until it no longer amused them and they silenced him with a sharp blow to the side of his face with a lead pipe.

There were no dreams in this type of sleep. The virus raged through him, working frantically to stop the escape of its sustenance from the open wounds, barricading the way. The demonic virus worked to bring the body back to functioning condition, devouring the blood in the stomach as it worked. It would need more blood to keep up such a pace, but not just yet. The wounds clotted, the blood loss staved, it went to work on mending rent blood vessel, of stretching muscle fragments back to where they belonged. A good hunter needed good vision. The eye had to be repaired but there was nothing left to reassemble. It would have to be recreated. Pieces of flesh and nerves would be snipped from across the injured body, other parts mutated to fill that which was missing. Some of the virus would have to die to help that mutation and those cells fought furiously against the others as the weakest were killed and remade…

Sam twitched and moaned softly as the deep sleep began to release him. Pain racked him and he wished the black oblivion would reclaim him, but instead it pushed him further toward consciousness. His body would need food soon and he needed to wake up and start the hunt.

He felt empty, an absence at his side that should have been there. His heart ached as if Vanessa had all but ripped it from him. He smelled the same scents as before…but there was a new faint scent. Disgust.

Sam opened his eye, startled to discover he only had one, but then remembered. Yes, she had burned it out. He hurt everywhere. He didn't think there was a scrap of skin, muscle and even bone that didn't ache. He shifted and gasped, the dried blood almost like a glue that held him to the floor. With a shudder, he forced himself to roll over, swallowing the scream, lying on his chest, the fresh blood seeping slowly from the injuries on his back. He felt the fire as the virus went back to work, resealing the re-opened wounds. He lay there just trying to get the agony back to a manageable level. When he finally felt it had subsided as much as it was going to and he was ready to endure another bout of torturous movement, he pushed himself to a sitting position. Tears of pain flowed from his eye as he sat still once again, repeating the procedure of waiting for the world to stop swimming and the sparkles to leave his eyesight. Once that happened, he looked around. Still in the cage. Of course.

He gaze froze when they reached the part of the cage furthest from him. Dean had his back to him and was practically curled up around the bars.

Sam felt the lump in his throat. Nothing went right. Nothing ever went right when it came to Dean. Slowly, painfully, he crossed the distance. He saw the bile on the ground and smelled the fresher blood, but blood that he could tell had since dried. He reached out with his left hand, setting it lightly on Dean's shoulder. "I'm sorry," Sam said softly, "but you never would have let me help you if I'd told you. Please forgive me Dean."

Dean heard the soft grunts and moans of pain from across the cage signaling that Sam was waking. The other man had been as still as death for hours now. Not so far from the truth, since Sam was dead. His body little better than a zombies, a walking corpse, animated by a demon-like soul. That’s what vampires were. That’s what Sam had always been…

He hadn’t bothered to move from the position he’d woken in, wasn’t sure he could at the moment without being sick again, from the migraine like pain in his skull and he was tired of throwing up. He still hurt a whole fucking lot but he was breathing easier now. Probably “thanks” to his own fucking demon virus floating around in his veins.

Not so fucking different from Sam… Dean thought with a bitter laugh. He wasn’t sure who he hated more at the moment, Sam, or himself for not knowing. Not realizing what the other man really was. If he’d known… God…

The only thing he could really be thankful for right now was that his father was dead… John Winchester never had to see just what his pathetic son had become. A fucking half breed freak with vampire blood in his veins. Who’d let a vampire… suck him off, fuck him… and he hadn’t had a fucking clue.

He was such an idiot. Such a fucking idiot. But he supposed he fucking deserved this. After getting his father killed. Being such a fuck up of a son. He deserved everything that was happening now. He deserved the heartbreak that was worse than any of the physical pain he was feeling now. Deserved to be tortured and killed… karma was a bitch and it was finally catching up with him. Did he really think he’d ever be forgiven for letting his father die like that? Letting his throat be ripped out by a fucking demon dog… well… turn about was fair play…

Dean heard Sam moving around now. Slowly. Painfully. Dean didn’t bother to move. What was the point? He didn’t move even when he felt the light, hesitant, touch to his shoulder. Though he couldn’t stop his muscles from tensing. He couldn’t stop the bitter snort of laughter that escaped him either in response to Sam’s words.

“There’s a lot I wouldn’t have let you do.” Dean muttered under his breath.

Dean's words bit into Sam hard and his anger finally exploded as he pulled his hand away from Dean's shoulder.
"I should have just let your fucking ass turn," Sam hissed, leaning in close. "I have tried everything within my power to help you, to save you. I'm sorry it wasn't a perfect cure. I'm sorry Jake gave all the blood he gave trying to save your ungrateful ass," he continued in a low growl. "I'm sorry I don't fit the bill as someone worthwhile. I've killed twelve people for food in my one-hundred and forty three years as a vampire and those were when I first turned, when I was still learning control. Until Vanessa. Until you," Sam spat.

Sam reached over to the bars and grabbed hold, slowly pulling himself up until he stood on his one "good" leg, though good was definitely a relative term. He limped along, grinding the pain into his soul, refusing to scream at the agony, refusing to let the tears fall. He collapsed next to the door of the cage. Vanessa would be back soon enough. Sundown was approaching. He refused to look Dean's way, refused to acknowledge his existence. If Vanessa took Dean tonight…no, Dean still wasn't strong enough, hadn't eaten yet as far as Sam knew. It wouldn't take much to kill him.

Sam's jaw clenched and he felt his fangs descend. It would put Dean out of his misery, out of their misery. Vanessa would lose that tool against him. He could tell her to go fuck herself. Dean wouldn't suffer at her hands...

He let his fangs retract and soft bitter laughter slipped past his lips. He was still trying to protect Dean. He hated Dean at this moment, but he would still die for the man. And it wasn't just because they were bloodmates. Sam knew that as surely as he knew a demonic virus flowed in his veins. He loved him, he treasured him, and he hated him more than he had ever hated anyone. And only love could make you hate someone that much.

"C'mon, Bitchnessa! You're dog is ready to play!" Sam yelled. He'd take a night of hanging from the fucking rafters with Vanessa working him over to sitting in this cage one more fucking minute.

Dean flinched at Sam’s words. It would have been kinder for the other man to kick him in the ribs. Sam was right, of course. He was ungrateful. This… all of this… was his fault. He wanted to hate Sam. He really did. He wanted to hate the other man for being a vampire. He wanted to hate Sam for lying to him every step of the way. He wanted to hate Sam for turning him into a freak. For not killing him, or just letting him die, which would have been a hell of a lot more merciful than what was happening now. He wanted to hate Sam for using him, for loving him… he wanted to hate Sam for making him love Sam too…

Tears slid down his face as Sam moved away, but Dean didn’t move. Didn’t turn to look at the other man. Didn’t say he was sorry. Maybe it would make it easier for Sam. Dean wasn’t stupid. He knew one of the reasons why Sam was so torn up and Dean was left untouched was because Sam had made some kind of deal. Letting her do everything she had so that it wouldn’t happen to him. If he was… gone… Sam wouldn’t have to let himself suffer anymore. He could at least try to fight back…

He heard Sam’s yell and Dean flinched again, but this time he actually moved. He pushed himself up on weak arms. Wrapping one of them around his ribs as he used the other to pull himself up by the bars much as Sam had. He wobbled unsteadily on his feet, but he managed to keep standing. He saw the vampires, they were awake. Whether from Sam’s shout or they’d already been awake Dean didn’t know. Two approached the cage followed by the vampire bitch. They looked happy to take Sam up on his offer…

No. He wasn’t going to spend another night listening to Sam’s screams. Maybe he’d be lucky. Maybe he’d only last half as long…

When they finally reached the cage, he spoke. “Take me.”

He could smell the fresh tears, but squelched the urge to return to Dean's side to try to comfort him and soothe away the pain his words had inflicted. He still hated Dean, dammit. He was still pissed. He would be for awhile. Until Vanessa came to distract him from it.

But then, who said Dean's tears were tears Sam's words caused? They could just as easily be tears of anger, furious with Sam for doing this to him. For all the lies, for the betrayal of not killing him like he had promised, for a vampire daring to fuck a hunter.

He heard Dean shift and move, and kept his eyes fixed elsewhere. Dean was probably coming over to punch his lights out. Isn't that how it had gone every single time? Sam tried and ended up on his ass for his trouble.

He heard the vampires approaching. Okay, it really sucked to have half of his peripheral vision gone. Vanessa was going to love watching Dean kick Sam in the ribs or punch him in the face, or whatever the hell Dean was planning on doing.

Sam's head snapped up, his furious gaze locking on Dean when he heard those words leave the young hunter's mouth. Was Dean fucking crazy? He wouldn't last an hour! As much as Sam would like to delude himself, Vanessa would take Dean and torture him just as soon as Dean was well enough, no matter what Sam did. There was no reason to bring it down on himself any faster.

Sam growled at Dean, animalistic, commanding, for Dean to get the fuck back from the door as he pulled himself to his feet, to stand between Dean and the vampires. He blinked back the tears of pain, ground his teeth so hard he was surprised none of them broke as he struggled to stay on his feet, all of his weight on his left leg.

"He's hardly healed and hasn't eaten in two days," Sam snorted. "Yeah, he'll last. He'll be fun. For all of ten minutes." Sam's cool gaze rested on Vanessa, his words dripping with sarcasm as he said, "So Mistress Vanessa, how may I serve your desires tonight?"

Dean was not cowed in the slightest by Sam’s display of anger or the way the other man growled at him. He didn’t back down.

Vanessa merely laughed at the display.

“Oh, don’t worry, Baby.” She practically purred at the injured vampire that looked little better at the moment than road kill having been pecked at by vultures. Not the least bit appetizing right now. The young hunter on the other hand… “We won’t break him… much…”

She laughed again, looking at Dean and the young man felt a chill crawl up his spine. He’d seen the same look directed at him often enough. Hell, he’d seen it on Sam’s face practically from the moment he’d met the vampire though he’d denied it.

Lust. Hunger. And it was matched by the two hulking male vampires that had come with her.

Dean felt himself take a step back before he realized it when they opened the cage door. One of them had a fucking cattle prod in his hand and he used it on Sam to knock the other vampire back. To keep him away from the door as the other one came right for Dean.

His survival instincts kicking in despite his words earlier, Dean began to struggle, cursing and fighting to break the iron grip that he wouldn’t have been able to even if he was at his full strength. The vampire easily dragged him out of the cage, and the other vampire slammed it closed and locked it as soon as he was out.

The other vampires were already waiting. Gathered around in a loose circle, some of them whistling and catcalling as he was dragged into the center of them and shoved to the floor. His arms wrenched behind him and his wrists cuffed. An unforgiving hand dragged him up to his knees, and held his head by his hair while another vampire approached him. Palming his already hard dick through his jeans.

Dean fought, tried to twist away, but they held his body and his head still easily. Another hand grabbed his lower jaw and wrenched it open as the vampire in front of him unzipped himself and pulled out his hard dick.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to shut off his brain for what would happen next, unfortunately he wasn’t successful.

Sam tried not to let it show how much it pissed him off that Dean hadn't even flinched at his growl. Not enough god-damned vampire in him after all.

He felt his insides twist when Vanessa turned her gaze from him and fastened it on Dean. He could smell her lust…he could smell their lust. They would do to Dean what they had done to him. He prepared himself to fight against them. They would not use Dean that way! He had been raped before and that was just one man. This was a nest of vampires, vampires with carnal desires as strong at their need for blood. All of them had taken their turn with Sam, more than once. This would break Dean, it would shatter him.

They opened the cage door and before his damaged body could react, the cattle prod had been put to his chest and he stumbled back. He fell onto his injured leg and the pain ripping through him dragged a scream from him. He watched helplessly as Dean tried to back away, to escape them, but Dean didn't have a chance.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. "No! No, don't do this to him!" The fear he smelled rolling off Dean mixed with the lust that practically overwhelmed him forced him back to his feet.

They didn't go far; she wanted Sam to be able to see everything they were doing to Dean. She wanted him to hear Dean's whimpers. Sam would have rather seen Dean tortured and heard his screams than see what they were doing to him now.

He screamed at them, cussed at them, begged and pleaded. He shouted to Dean, told him he would be okay, that he would survive this. He tried to wrench the cage door open as the fury filled him and he felt the hinges give just a little, but not enough. Just not enough. He was too injured, he couldn't keep up enough leverage, not with the way he could barely stand. He finally just couldn't stay on his feet anymore, many of his wounds re-opened and bleeding from his struggles. He sank down, his back to the nest, tears coating one side of his face.

He cringed with each sound he heard Dean make, tried to shut out the sounds of his lover's pain. He felt the sobs shake him.

He jumped when Vanessa spoke to him from just outside the bars. He hadn't heard her approach.

"If you don't watch, we'll do more than just fuck him. You wouldn't want that to happen to your little boy-toy, now do you?"

Sam shook his head mutely and turned around so he could see them. After a moment he turned his gaze on her. "Just so you know, I will kill you, Bitch. I will make you pay for every scream, every whimper Dean makes."

She gave a small gasp, and then a smile curved her lips. "Of course you will, Baby. Every time you close your eyes. Every time you open them, I'll be here to torture you and watch you suffer." Her visage turned dark. "You will pay for killing my children, for killing all the vampires your blades have taken through your short years. Each death will be avenged, Sam Cristo. So long as you behave, so long as you do as you're told, I'll limit what we do to the pretty boy. I won't shred him or flay him within an inch of his life. I'll let the two of you stay together in the same cage. If I see even the slightest whisper of the idea of you taking his life to spare him, I will hunt down everyone you have ever known. I will torture them, then turn them. I will drive you to bloodlust day after day and watch you rip innocents apart, rip your friends apart." She smiled at him and pulled out a bloody and torn address book. "And kill everyone you and your wife ever knew. Just like I killed her. After we fucked her, after we turned her and watched her suffer in unfed bloodlust."

Sam's gaze locked onto Vanessa and his muscles trembled as renewed fury swept through him. She laughed. "Remember, you behave. You don't try to get heroic, you don't let him get self-sacrificing. That will only bring more agony to you than you can possibly imagine. And so very many deaths." She thumbed through the address book. "Hmm, three sisters and a brother," she mused. "Looks like the birthdays of nieces and nephews, too."

Sam looked away, paling at her words. "I'll do what you want," he said quietly. "Whatever you want."

"I'm glad we have an understanding. For being such a very good doggy," she turned to the vampires surrounding Dean. "Finish up children. Sammy needs his teddy bear back."

His throat was being fucked raw. He could barely breathe at all past the hard dick pounding down his throat. His own whimpers of pain and the choking sounds he made almost drowned out by the grunts and moans of pleasure of the vampire using him and the laughing of the others. He was forced forward even more, without his hands to support his weight the only thing supporting him was the vampire’s fist in his hair holding him while he fucked his mouth. He felt the other’s hands on his hips, his claws biting cruelly into his skin. He heard the others egging him on, and Dean screamed around the dick rammed down his throat as the other shoved inside of him without any preparation at all.

Dean had lost track of how many of the vampires had used him after the fourth one. The males used his mouth and his ass brutally. Then they’d gotten him hard and let the females use his cock, sometimes while one of the males pounded into him from behind. When there wasn’t a cock choking him he screamed. The pain blinding and worse if possible every single time he was used. Come, and most surely, blood dripping down, coating his thighs.

He heard Sam screaming, cursing them. Begging them to stop. He heard Sam talking to him, reassuring him, trying to comfort him and he clung to those moments, trying to block out everything else. All the pain and the humiliation and more pain. Dean knew he was crying, sobbing, begging when they let him, but he didn’t really care, he just wanted it to stop.

When Sam stopped talking to him, Dean sobbed harder. He wanted to beg Sam not to leave him to this alone, please, but he couldn’t have even if he wanted to. His voice long having grown hoarse from the abuse to his throat soon he couldn’t even scream, only grunt and moan in pain. Barely conscious at all by the time they were finished with him. When they dragged him back to the cage, dumping him onto the cold hard floor unceremoniously. One of them praising him for being such a good fuck and couldn’t wait till next time.

Dean didn’t move. All he wanted was to curl up into a ball and die. He couldn’t even do that…

She stood nearby and watched, hungry to see the pain she was inflicting on the once so proud hunter. She savored every tear and the dead look that had come into his eye. She almost regretted burning out that second eye. Of course if she took both next time, he would only be able to hear what they were doing to his precious Dean. She would have to consider that, but since he had turned away, watching was surely the more painful. Next time perhaps she would bring him over, put him in chains and make him watch, close up and personal. Maybe having him sucked off while he watched, getting him off with every scream from his lovers lips as his lover was being fucked. Or make him work over his own lover. That would be delightful. So very many wonderful possibilities. She had not felt such elation in such a long time, but then, she hadn’t taken an enemy and slowly broken them as she would break Cristo. And the pretty boy. She thought gleefully of seeing the two curled up together, defeat etched on their faces, nothing but torture before them. Going through the motions of another day of hell. She had planned having Cristo take the hunter’s life in a flesh rending bloodlust, but now she wasn’t so sure. Once he had nothing to live for, he wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. He would still have all his dead wife’s relatives to worry about, and she was already contemplating bringing them in, one at a time, and destroying them as well. Cristo, Cristo she would keep alive, for a few hundred years, let her children play with him when she grew bored. He would welcome death, even beg for it, but she wouldn’t give him that gift for a very, very long time.

When Sam saw them dragging Dean toward the cage, he straightened, not caring that she saw his reaction. He just wanted Dean back. He wanted to know his love was safe. The things he had said to Dean. He hadn’t meant them. Dean had to know Sam loved him.

He tried to stay stoic when Dean was close enough that Sam could see the condition of his lover, but a soft sob escaped him anyway. Dean’s lips were bloody and torn, blood and come leaking from his mouth. The same leaking from his hole. Bruises blackened his hips where they had gripped him.

He stayed where he was until they had left the young man on the floor and the cage was locked behind them. Sam scrambled to Dean’s side, ignoring his own terrible pain as he pulled Dean into his arms.

"Shh, lover, I've got you. I've got you. You're safe now Dean." Sam stretched, biting back the pain as he reached for the gauze and water at the side of the cage. He opened the bottle of water and poured some onto the gauze, then gently began wiping down Dean's face. Once Dean's face was cleaned, he planted light kisses on it as he whispered reassurances. "You'll be okay, you'll be okay. You're strong. You'll survive this. You'll get through this, love. I'll help you. I'll be with you."

Sam planted a light kiss on Dean's lips, not caring that come and blood still dripped from Dean's mouth. Dean's blood tasted of terror, of humiliation, of pain. The come tasted bitterly of lust and death.

"Love, I'm going to pour a little water into your mouth. It will be cool, it will help your throat. Try to swallow it down, okay? It'll be just a little. We'll go slow, okay?"

Dean couldn’t stop himself from flinching from that first touch. A pathetic whimper escaping his bruised and bloodied lips before he could silence it. Tears already beginning to crowd behind his eyes once more despite the fact that he didn’t think he could possibly have any left. No… please no more… please… he wanted to beg, but the only sound that escaped his abused throat was a small moan of agony when he was lifted. Held…

And then he knew, he just knew. Maybe it was the warm comforting scent beyond the stench of blood and pain. Maybe it was the sound of the other man’s voice even though he barely understood the words. Promises that he was safe now… lies… but Dean didn’t care. For the first time he didn’t fucking care.

He felt the light brush of the wet cloth over his bruised face and his fingers curled and gripped at the other man hard. Not really caring where his hands were or that he felt blood underneath his fingernails, just needing to hold on. Needing Sam to hold onto him.

Sam cleaned the blood and come off his face but Dean knew he would never feel clean again. Not really. To be honest he’d never really felt clean ever since that man had used him years ago. This was worse, so much worse. Sam was wrong. He wasn’t strong enough to deal with this. Not knowing it was probably going to happen again… and again… and again… He wasn’t… he couldn’t…

Sam’s careful kiss to his lips tore a ragged sob from Dean’s throat. How could Sam still want to kiss him after the way he’d been used?

Water… no, he didn’t really want it… he didn’t want anything that was only going to prolong this misery, but at the same time he wanted the taste out of his mouth. As though water alone could ever do that, but he had to try.

The first sip of water didn’t go down at all, he tried to swallow and his abused throat protested, and he merely coughed and sputtered it back up. The next sip, not even a sip really, just a few drops went down. A little more. A little more. Slowly. It seemed to take forever. But it wasn’t like there was anything else.

Dean's hands gripped his arm, his nails digging into wounds that were still trying to heal, but he ignored the pain. The pain twisting inside him blocked out anything else, allowed him to ignore the seeping wounds, the pangs of hunger, the fire of his injuries. Patiently he poured small bits of water down Dean's throat, wiping it away when Dean sputtered it back out. It felt like an eternity passed before Sam felt he had managed to wash most of the come and blood from Dean's mouth.

Sam looked down at Dean's tortured face. He could smell the shame Dean felt and caressed Dean's cheek. Leaning down, he kissed Dean again, lightly licking his way into Dean's brutalized mouth. Tenderly, carefully, he ran his tongue over Dean's teeth, the roof of his mouth, and brushed Dean's tongue before ending the kiss.

"They could never do anything that would make me not cherish you, make me not want to touch you and make love to you. Nothing. My heart is yours. Always," he whispered.

Sam returned to his careful ministrations, using wetted gauze to clean Dean's chest and stomach free of the come and blood.

"Love, I'm going to clean your cock off, okay? It's just me touching you. No one else. I promise. I'm just going to wipe off the come. You're raw lover. It needs to be cleaned up."

Sam worked the gauze lower, letting Dean prepare himself. He felt Dean's fingers dig deeply into his arm. "Shh-shh-shh. It's just me, Dean. It's just me. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to do anything but wipe away their filth so all that is left is my cleansing touch. The touch that treasures you."

When Dean couldn’t possibly drink any more water without feeling like he was going to choke or vomit it back up Sam finally set aside the bottle he had been feeding him from. Dean closed his eyes, taking small shallow breaths so he wouldn’t have to smell their stench on him. He hadn’t been expecting the soft touch of Sam’s lips to return. Just as gentle as before, caressing and licking his swollen lips and then letting his tongue slide into his mouth.

Dean stiffened a little but he didn’t try to pull away. He just… didn’t want Sam to taste them in his mouth… But he couldn’t tell the other man to stop. Didn’t want to. Sam tasted of pain, sadness, but also of warmth and… love… Sam’s whispered words made him sob and he buried his face against the other man’s chest. A part of him wanting to deny those words, a part of him knowing he didn’t deserve them in the least, the greater part of him needing them right now more than anything. Needing Sam…

He felt Sam continuing cleaning him. Washing away the physical traces of their abuse that could be washed away. The bruises and cuts would last longer. Probably wouldn’t even be fully faded before new ones replaced them. He felt Sam’s touch move lower and he stiffened again without meaning to, a sound of protest breaking from his throat before he could stop it.

Even though he wanted to be clean, more than anything, he just couldn’t… Nor could he stop his fingers digging harder into Sam’s arm before he could stop it but Sam didn’t even complain. Like he didn’t feel the pain Dean was causing him at all. Sam’s litany of soft reassurances and love never ceased however and gradually Dean felt his muscles relaxing almost of their own will. His fingers loosening their grip on the other man.

Dean swallowed hard as he lifted his face away from Sam’s chest, looking up at the other man in the eye for the first time.

“Promise me…” Dean rasped, coughing from the strain but he forced it back, he took a breath and continued. “You’ll get out… and kill them….”

Sam felt Dean's death grip on his arm finally loosen. He smiled gently at the man whose face was buried against his chest in shame and pain. Dean was going to let Sam do what he needed to do to help him, let him clean him up some more. If the vampires kept this up, Dean was going to have to be on antibiotics for the rest of his life…however long they let him live. Dean would be killed eventually, he knew that. He knew if he killed Dean the bitch would keep her word about killing every last soul in Jessica's address book. If they had moved, she'd find them, he had no doubt. He loved Dean more than anything, but so very many lives, and so many of them related to the wife he had dearly loved. He…couldn't. Not even for Dean. Not even for the way it would ease his pain to know that Dean could never be hurt by them again. There would come a time, a time when he could no longer stand it, when the thought of Jessica's family dying at Vanessa's hands would longer have meaning. Only saving Dean from years of abuse would mean anything to him. He would be lost by that time, but have enough of him left to make that final sacrifice of his love. He just couldn't do it now. And the bitch knew that. And the bitch knew he would eventually kill Dean, effectively killing the last bit of himself when he did.

He was surprised when Dean pulled away from him, turned his face up toward Sam. Dean's voice was roughened by the abuse his throat had taken and there was hate in his eyes. Sam tried to find a reassuring smile to respond to Dean's words, but there wasn't one in him.

Reluctantly, Sam admitted what he so wanted to deny. "I'm not strong enough to get us out. They won't let me heal enough to get strong enough. I need blood to heal, Dean, and she hasn't let me feed tonight. She won't let me feed until tomorrow and tomorrow she'll torture me again. Besides, love, I wouldn't leave you. And I can't kill you or she'll kill…everyone my wife ever cared about when she was alive. All her family. All her friends." Sam dredged up a sad smile. "I'm sorry. If I do what she wants, what she says, they will…leave you alone more often than not. It was the only deal she offered. I will try to bargain a better one soon." He leaned forward and kissed Dean again, mindful of how bruised Dean's lips were. His voice turned bitter and deadly. "If I am given the opportunity, I will rip her head from her shoulders for you. I promise you that. But it's doubtful they'll ever let me get that strong again."

At Sam’s words it felt like a crushing weight was pressing down on his chest, preventing him from breathing. He wondered if it lasted long enough he’d eventually pass out, suffocate even. Right now, that would have been a blessing.

He wanted to tell Sam that he didn’t give a damn what happened to him right now, he just wanted those fuckers dead. He didn’t even care if he was… left behind. He was sure he would die soon enough either at their hand or he’d find a way to do it himself, even if he had to bite off his own tongue. As long as Sam got away… as long as he came back and butchered every last one of them…

But Sam wasn’t strong enough… wouldn’t be… not even to let himself escape.

Dean couldn’t deny that it had crossed his mind, while they were using him, that he’d ask Sam to just kill him when it was over. Hearing Sam refuse to do it, before he could even ask, it made his heart twist just a little tighter in his chest. Made it just a little bit harder to breathe. He tried to tell himself that he “understood” that he wouldn’t want innocents to suffer because of him, part of him even believed it, but it was hard to think that way right now…

Dean couldn’t even begin to decipher what he was feeling regarding Sam revealing that he had a wife… had…

Sam’s kiss, his promise, eased a bit of the pressure on his chest, not all of it, but enough to let him breathe again. Enough to let him speak again without simply screaming at the top of his lungs. Dean tightened his hold on Sam’s arm again just a little.

“You can feed on me.” Dean whispered, his voice just as deadly serious as Sam’s had been.

Dean's conflict was written clearly on his face, wanting Sam to lie to him rather than tell him the truth. Sam might be a vampire, but without blood, with injuries like Vanessa had carved into him, he was little stronger than a human. If he was even that strong. The hint of jealousy he smelled in Dean after he revealed he had been married made a little warm spot inside him.

Surprise lit Sam's face at Dean's offer. He would have laughed; he almost did. What he wouldn't have given to hear those precious words from Dean in any other place, at any other time. Dean meant it, one hundred percent. He would have wanted that offer to come with the look of desire, of love written on Dean's face. Instead the desire for vengeance was as clear on his face as the sun on a bright summer day.

Sam ran his free hand along side Dean's head. He did manage a soft laugh then. "Even if I were healed enough to try, even if I could tear the door open in the middle of the day, I don't think I could manage it without enough noise to wake at least one of them. They would rouse the others. I'm a good hunter, Dean, but I can't outrun them all. I can't fight them all…" Sam twisted his head, looking to the table that was on the way to the door. The table where spoils taken from the innocent victims were tossed. A cell phone. They really only needed to make one call. He had absolutely no doubt if Bobby were alive that Bobby would be hunting for Dean. That might be a big 'if' though. If Bobby was dead, it would be a wasted attempt. He could try one of his other friends, but Sam would not have time to explain anything. In fact, the vampires couldn't even know a call was made. What were the odds they left Bobby alive? Sam decided it was fifty-fifty. She wanted vengeance on Sam and Dean. She simply probably wouldn’t have bothered to do more than knock Bobby and Jake out of the way. So long as either or both of them went down right away, she wouldn't have pursued it.

Sam turned back to Dean. "I can't escape them, but I think we could get a message out. If she left Bobby alive, do you two have any sort of code? That he'll know, say a text message, is from you? He could track the GPS from there and get to us."

Dean turned his face slightly into the warm hand caressing it, taking what comfort was offered by the gentle touch greedily. Clinging to it as tightly as he clung to Sam himself. Needing it more than he needed the air in his lungs. More than he needed the blood in his veins.

Though Sam's initial words began to crush what little hope had begun to form in Dean's heart. He wanted to ask Sam, what if he didn't fight? What if he just left? What if Sam left him? As long as Sam got away, that was enough for Dean right now. Even though he was touched that the other man had already refused to leave him behind, they had to be realistic here. There was no reason for both of them to suffer. No reason for both of them to die...

Then he turned his head towards the direction Sam was looking. The other vampires were milling around. Not watching them. Didn't notice their regard. He saw what Sam saw. The phone on the table. Their possible salvation. If they could get to it. Dean turned his eyes back to Sam's, nodding.

"Yes." Dean said simply, he and Bobby had a code all right. It was the same one he and his father had used when John had been alive. He had no doubt that Bobby was still alive. Not a single one. Dean nodded in determination. "Bobby's harder to kill than a New York cockroach on steroids. He'll come with a fucking army."

A small tight smile pulled at Dean's bloodied lips.

"He tracked you down with a whole lot less."

Sam gave a small snort of laughter. “Yes. But he did have your oh-so-discreet car to track. Not to mention the volume of your ear-splitting rock," Sam teased. More seriously he whispered, "I suspect he’s already in the general vicinity, so once he gets the message, it won’t take him that long to get here.” Sam studied the distance and the layout of the “escape” route. His voice quieted even more until it was barely above a whisper. “Assuming I can get the cage door open, I’ll carry you like you’re unconscious. Odds are good they’ll be on us pretty fast. I’ll stumble or set you aside or something at the table. I should be able to get us that far. You have to snatch the phone without them spotting you and we both need to hope it's still on. Get the text message off and then get the phone hidden somewhere over there. Looks like there are plenty of places to stuff it. If they aren’t on us, you’ll still need to grab the phone and we’ll head for the door while you text him. If we can make it to a car, we might be able to escape.” He kissed Dean’s forehead. “It’s going to be bad when they catch us, love. You’re too weak and in pretty rough shape. I don’t imagine they’ll do much to you, especially if you play unconscious or out of it. She told me no heroics. What she did to me before will probably be a vacation to what she’ll do to me then. And in a day or two when you've recovered some, she’ll go after you to get to me. Hopefully Bobby will be here before then.

Sam lightly traced two fingers from Dean's forehead, along his unbruised temple and down to his jaw line. "I’ll probably be pretty hungry. If my eyes look kind of red, I’m in bloodlust and may not discriminate between friend and foe…and lover. Keep me chained, throw me in the trunk, and get me near a cow or something. I’ll still try to go for human blood, but given no other choice, I’ll feed on an animal. That should quickly bring me out of bloodlust. Assuming Bobby and his army don’t just cut off my head.”

He gave Dean a light kiss and then whispered in his ear. "It's probably best if I feed from your wrist. It'll be easier to hide the wound if someone comes around. But let me finish getting you cleaned up first, okay?"

Any other time and place Dean would have laughed at Sam’s comment possibly teased him back that Sam just didn’t have taste in good music. Now he was only able to offer the other man a slightly more genuine smile, though the pain didn’t completely fade from his face or eyes. Even though right now it was buried under layers of hate, desire for vengeance, and determination that their plan would work. He hoped it would stay there, for as long as possible. Till either they got out of here, or until he died trying.

Dean nodded as Sam explained to him what he wanted Dean to do. He would do his part. He would get the message off to Bobby. The idea of being able to get to a car and get out of here was definitely appealing but they had to be realistic. They probably wouldn’t make it to the door. If they even made it to the table, that was pushing it.

He almost suggested to Sam not to try to get him out of the cage. He would only slow Sam down. Sam would have an easier time getting to the phone, or even getting outside without him as a burden…

Dean swallowed hard as Sam went on to “prepare” him for what would probably happen to him, to both of them, once they were caught. Even after they got the message to Bobby it would probably take some time for the other hunter to get here. Hours, even days, depending on where Bobby was. Even if he was in the “area” like Sam suspected.

The young hunter promised himself then that he would do whatever he could to deflect her rage upon him. If she was going to use him to punish Sam anyway then he would encourage it. Sam was right. This was all his fault. At least then… Sam would suffer less, and if Dean died during whatever they did to him at least it would be for a reason other than just being used as their toy.

Dean nodded slowly in understanding as Sam explained what would have to be done if he went into… bloodlust…

“I won’t let that happen.” Dean promised. He wouldn’t let the other hunters lay a hand on Sam, no matter what it took. Assuming Dean was even still alive at that point…

Dean nodded in agreement when Sam suggested they finish getting him “clean”. For what it was worth… Surprisingly Dean didn’t feel any nervousness about the idea of Sam feeding from him. Days ago, fuck, hours ago he probably would have had a very different reaction. Hell no, came to mind. Now he didn’t care. Now he would cut open his own wrist and give it to Sam, let the vampire drain him dry if it meant escape. If it meant those bastards would die some horribly painful way, hopefully drowning in their own blood.

"Go ahead."

Sam picked the gauze back up and gently finished cleaning Dean off, first cleaning his groin and then wiped his thighs free of the blood and come. With utmost care he cleaned up along Dean's crack and around his hole, trying to wipe away their filth, even though he knew it hurt Dean and he could feel the tension in the young man. He just continued to whisper reassuring words until he was done. He held Dean close for a bit, soothing him, petting at his hair, laying the occasional light kiss on him, running his hand up and down Dean's back until he finally heard Dean's heart rate slow down.

Sam had been watching the other vampires while he soothed Dean. None seemed to take interest in the vampire and human locked in the cage. Sam was fairly certain the nest was going to leave them alone for the rest of the night, their lustful attack on Sam driving them to feed and make out with each other. More important than anything else, he believed he would be able to drink from Dean without drawing their attention, without them realizing what he was doing.

"Okay, love, let me drink," Sam whispered. "I'll drink until you're almost faint. I'll hear the change in your heart rate, in the sound of the blood in your veins and know when to stop. You'll probably go to sleep right away, but don't worry, I'll keep you safe."

He accepted the offered wrist and licked and sucked on it, changing the makeup of his saliva to lightly anesthesize where he intended to bite. Exposing his fangs he used only the front teeth as he carefully bit into the artery in Dean's wrist. Retracting his fangs, he began to suck at the wound, burying the groan inside him as the crimson spilled into his mouth. The turmoil of emotions inside Dean exploded in Sam's senses. The completion of self filled him and the blood, even as full of conflicting flavors as it was, still electrified him. He growled softly, like a cat quietly purring, as he drank from his lover. Pulling the young man a little tighter to him, he wrapped around him protectively. He ran his hand over Dean's hair and down his back lovingly, slowly, again and again. He felt the warmth in his stomach, the sudden energizing burst, as his virus embraced the blood that was its perfect complement, its perfect food.

The change in the sound of Dean's heartbeat, in the rushing river of his blood finally made Sam slow his suckling at Dean's wrist. He pulled off and began licking at the wound, causing the flow of blood to slow. He felt Dean begin to sag against him as he licked the last of the blood from his lips. He cradled the man he adored in his arms, holding Dean while Dean slept, and letting himself drop into a healing doze.

Dean tried his best not to tense up while Sam cleaned him, because honestly tensing his muscles only made it hurt worse, if that was possible, but he couldn’t seem to fully relax no matter how hard he tried. At least Sam was as quick, and gentle, as possible. Still by the time the other man was done Dean was trembling again, his breath coming out in quick pained pants and he had tears running down his cheeks again.

He buried his face against Sam’s chest once again, as though he were trying to hide away from the world. So he could only smell Sam. So he could only feel the other man’s touch on his flesh. So he could only hear Sam’s soothing warm voice whispering comforting nonsense into his ear.

Gradually he relaxed again in the vampire’s arms and when Sam asked him to let him drink, Dean nodded his assent. Though even as Sam reassured him, he couldn’t stop from feeling the slightest pangs of nervousness at what he was about to let the vampire do. Letting Sam drain him until he passed out… not only would he be completely defenseless, not that he wasn’t already, but he knew how much it hurt to be bitten, the other vampires had certainly done that enough…

He hadn’t expected Sam to begin by licking, sucking on the pale flesh on the underside of his wrist, nor did Dean expect the slight thrill that went through him. When he felt Sam’s fangs finally pierce his skin, he gasped softly, but it wasn’t in pain. It was… probably the closest thing to pleasure Dean was capable of feeling right now. Sam sucking… oh god…

Dean thought he should feel at least the slightest bit disgusted, but he wasn’t. In fact he didn’t think he’d ever felt this… close… to anyone. The sounds Sam was making unlike anything he’d ever heard but so damned comforting Dean was closing his eyes and leaning into the other man even before the light petting touches to his hair and back began.

He was already starting to drift off even before the suckling on his wrist slowed and stopped and he didn’t fight it. It was the first peaceful rest he’d had in days. Trusting Sam to hold him, trusting Sam to keep him safe.

Although he was asleep, he was only barely asleep and was distantly aware of the noises around him. The vampire in him also knew when the sun began to rise and he let the hours tick away. Finally around mid-day he opened his eyes. He smiled a little. His eye was fully regenerated. He felt better, so much more better than he should have. He looked down at the man still sleeping in his arms. Dean's blood, the fact that he was his bloodmate…the blood had accelerated his healing. He certainly still had injuries, could still feel the dull throbs through out his body, but the worst of the damage was repaired. His broken wrist was healed enough he would be able to use it. It would undoubtedly hurt, but it was functional. His thigh…the muscles in his thigh were all but mended. In fact it seemed as if all of the most severe of his injuries had been repaired first.

"Dean," he whispered softly. "Love, wake up. It's time to go." He roused Dean gently, light fingers brushing over his face until Dean's long-lashed eyelids slit open, the emerald green of Dean's eyes glinting in the dim light.

"I need you sharp, Dean," Sam said. "I'm going to give you a little of my blood. It will help invigorate you for a short time."

Sam saw the disconcerted look Dean gave him and chuckled. "It's not that bad, love. And it really will help."

Sam nicked his wrist and sucked on the wound, drawing forth a small amount of his lifeblood, then kissed Dean, releasing the blood into his lover's mouth. Sam took the time to extended the kiss, to caress Dean's mouth lovingly with his tongue, unsure if this would be their final kiss. So very much could go wrong in what they were about to attempt and he wanted Dean to remember his taste, to remember him, if things went as badly as they just might. If they failed, he would give Bobby a week to find them. If Bobby hadn't, he would kill Dean. He wouldn't let them rape Dean again and again. He wouldn't watch the man he loved be shattered by their brutality…even if it meant Vanessa went after Jessica's family. Odds were frighteningly good she eventually would anyways. He had denied that truth, but he was clearer headed than he had been in a long time and the hunter in him recognized what the sentimental lover in him had refused to. The bitch would use absolutely everything in her arsenal to destroy his soul. Nothing he cared about would be safe. Nothing. No matter what she said.

Dean groaned softly in protest in his sleep, the last thing he wanted to do was wake up and return to the world where his subconscious mind knew only pain was waiting for him. His body already ached terribly in so many ways. Beyond the physical abuse his body had taken, he felt almost feverish… no, not quite fever, because it was inside him. It felt like the blood in his veins was boiling.

At the persistence of the soft words and touches his eyes eventually slid open however, a small moan of discomfort escaping his lips. His eyes were unfocused and his thoughts fuzzy to say the least but he understood Sam’s words. A kick of adrenaline helping to wake him up a little bit more. Sam was right. He needed to be alert. He needed to get a message to Bobby.

Dean was down right shocked however when he got a good look at Sam. The other man… vampire… was healed. Mostly anyway, from what Dean could see. Sam had both of his eyes again which was shocking enough. Of course he knew vampires could regenerate themselves from any wound as long as their head wasn’t removed, but he had no idea it could happen so quickly. Not that he was complaining.

When Sam suggested he drink some of his blood however Dean couldn’t hide his displeasure at the thought. He already knew what affect Sam’s blood could have on him, he remembered how greedily he had licked at the wound on Sam’s wrist before, and he would really rather… avoid… doing it again. Avoid the reminder of how he wasn’t quite human anymore…

But Sam insisted and Dean grudgingly nodded. If it would help…

Dean was a little surprised at the way Sam chose to give him the blood, but he accepted the kiss, the taste of Sam’s blood in Sam’s mouth not repulsive to him at all and he licked every drop from the vampire’s mouth. Returning Sam’s kiss greedily. A slight flush coloring his cheeks when they finally pulled apart.

“Um… thanks.” Dean said softly, licking his lips and clearing his throat. He had to admit, he did feel a little better. Clearer headed.

Dean looked over to where the vampires were all sleeping and then turned back to Sam, nodding.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

Sam slowly extracted himself from Dean and stood, stretching out his stiffened joints, stretching out the newly repaired skin and muscle and testing them, wincing when he discovered parts of him not yet healed. He looked over at the table and confirmed at least one phone was there. Next he focused on the cage door, studying it and deciding where its weak points were. Indeed he had slightly twisted the hinges when he had tried to open it before. The hinges would be weaker than the lock side, but the hinges would be noisier. That Vanessa had kept him shackled at first did imply the cage wasn't vampire proof. It wasn't until he was badly injured that his shackles had been removed when he couldn't possibly be strong enough to bend the door open. After deciding where he would grasp the bars and how he would twist the door, he helped Dean stand.

"Just hang on to the bars. I'll be able to pick you up faster if you're standing," Sam told him, then turned back to the door.

Taking hold of the door, he wrenched it hard, twisting the hinges to their breaking point, the sound of screeching and snapping metal practically echoing in the barn. Sam cursed softly as he pushed the door open and barely kept the door from clanging to the floor. He spun and swept Dean into his arms, cradling Dean against his chest. Already he heard movement from the nest, cries waking up one another, vampires scrambling to their feet and headed for the escapees. He stretched his long legs, running for the door.

He grinned when Dean was able to swipe the phone from the table but knew the vampires were almost upon him.

"Into the hay. Play dead," Sam hissed. He veered toward the pile of hay close to the door and tried to reduce the shock to Dean's landing as he bent over a little and threw Dean into the straw. He whirled, keeping himself between the oncoming vampires and Dean, and dropped the closest vampire with a right hook and then straight-punched a second, also putting the vampire on the ground. His eyes swept over the onslaught coming at him. He knew he had been right. He might have made it through the door, but he wouldn't have made it any further. They were all well fed and healthy. He was only at about three quarters strength. He prayed Dean got off the text message because Sam was pretty sure he would be going down very shortly. Once he was down, Dean would be exposed.

As Dean watched Sam examine the door of their cage, the young hunter felt his heart rate increase in spite of himself. His heart was beating so hard against his ribs Dean was almost afraid that somehow the other vampires would hear it, know what they were up to, and stop them before they could even attempt it. His eyes kept shifting back to the sleeping vampires. He was painfully aware of the fact that he and Sam were both naked and all but defenseless. Painfully aware how crazy dangerous this stunt was, but right now it was all they had. He wasn’t just going to give up, be their fucking playthings for the rest of his life, however short it may be. If he was going to go down he’d rather go down fighting.

Dean grabbed the bars as Sam instructed after the other man helped him to stand, and silently cursed knowing he wouldn’t be able to maintain his balance without some kind of support. He hurt too damned badly inside. Sam was going to have to practically carry him out, and just as he feared Dean wasn’t going to be any use to him at all, worse, he’d be a burden.

The young man cringed at the sound the door made as Sam twisted it open, he knew it was too much to hope for it would have broken open quietly but it could have been a little fucking softer. Given them a little more time. Instead it was practically a fucking alarm bell.

Sam wasted no time then grabbing him and Dean ignored the pain in his abused body, ignored the sound of the vampires waking up, ignored his own fear, and focused on nothing else but getting that damned phone. Probably the only thing that was going to save them at this point…

Dean snatched it easily as they passed the table, already flipping it open before Sam dropped him on the ground. Thank god the fucking thing was already on, had a signal, and was still half charged. They only had a few fucking seconds…

He jammed in Bobby’s number on the phone, blocking what he was doing with his own body, hearing Sam behind him fighting off the vampires, giving him the precious time he needed to type a quick message and sent it. The soft beep the phone made confirming that the message had been sent successfully was probably the sweetest sound Dean had ever heard, before he silenced the damn thing and shoved it, open, into the pile of hay that had been his “cushion” when Sam dropped him.

However Dean wasn’t going to fucking “play dead” like Sam said. Dean pushed himself to his knees, his hands curling around anything he could use as some kind of weapon. Ironically they curled around a wooden pole that turned out to be an old rusted pitchfork when Dean pulled it out from underneath the hay. Dean stood on shaking legs that barely held him, swinging the pitchfork with all his strength at one of the vampires rushing Sam, it connected with a sickening crack telling him he’d surely shattered the fucker’s jaw. Dropping him like a stone.

“Get out of here!” Dean hissed at Sam, if the vampire turned and ran now he still might be able to make it if Dean could hold them off for just a minute or two.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean climb unsteadily to his feet. Couldn’t that man understand the concept of ‘play dead?’ He could tell right now if he and his bloodmate got out of this place alive, they were going to have work out this ‘will you fucking listen to me’ issue. And Dean had his blood in him! So much for age dominance in bloodmates. But if Dean was on his feet, the message was sent. Now they just had to wait for the cavalry.

Sam side stepped a punch to his chin and planted his fist in the next attacker’s face, feeling bones crunch under the blow. He heard a sharp crack to his right and his gaze shot to Dean. He’d put a vampire on the ground with a wooden handle he held. Dean’s words cut through him. Making a split second decision Sam charged for the door. The hunter in him demanded it was the sensible thing to do. If he could escape he was of more use to Dean.

His sudden retreat momentarily surprised his attackers. He shot out the door into the blinding sun and took off to the right, wincing as sharp edged gravel cut into his bare feet and the burning sun struck his bare flesh. If he could get in a car and lock the door, if the car was old enough, he could hotwire it.

A glance over the vehicles scattered about the drive told him that wasn't going to happen. They were all too new, microchips in the damned keys needed to start them. The tree line was his only option and it wasn't a good one. He put the wind to his back and pounded across the grass.

And then the arms wrapped around his waist and he fell to the ground.

He twisted, backfisting the vampire who had tackled him, but two others were on him before he could get his feet under him. Bruising grips on his arms held him tightly, booted feet kicked his ribs and he felt bones break under the blows. The machete at his throat made him freeze purely out of instinct. Lifted to his feet by the two vampires who held him, the third vampire with the machete kept it pressed against his neck, blood beginning to trickle from the split in his skin that its sharp edge caused. The vampires twisted his arms behind him and walked him back to the barn, the blade cutting a little deeper and a primal fear reared its head inside him. He knew they wouldn't kill him, Vanessa would want him alive, but he couldn't seem to convince his body that the machete was nothing but a hollow threat. Before they even reached the barn a different vampire walked up with shackles and the cold metal cuffs were fastened around his wrists. He was shoved inside the barn hard enough that he stumbled and fell.

To be honest Dean was almost as surprised as the vampires were that Sam had actually run. A part of him had been sure that the other hunter would refuse to leave him here, and Dean breathed a momentary sigh of relief that Sam had actually gone. Of course now it was up to Dean to try to give Sam enough time to actually get away.

“Come on you mother fuckers!” Dean shouted as he swung his “weapon” in a wide arc at the next vampire that tried to rush him. The vampire ducked out of the way, or tried to, but he’d obviously underestimated Dean’s speed or strength, hell it surprised Dean as well, and the handle cracked the vampire solidly against the skull sending him sprawling flat.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to give Sam long. Only a minute or two, if that, especially considering he only had a fucking stick as a weapon. Adrenaline and willpower was almost all that kept him on his feet right now and he knew it wouldn’t last. Not against a whole vampire next. Especially when the vampires he and Sam had downed were already getting back up.

Dean backed away, keeping himself between them and the door as best he could. The next one that came for him, he turned the broken rusted pitchfork around and jammed it into the vampire’s throat, blood spewing forth like a fountain, unfortunately the vampire grabbed the handle and yanked it from his hands as he yanked it from his neck.

Fuck.

They were on him quickly then, knocking him to the ground as easily as a child and pinning him there despite how he struggled. Two of them held him down while the others ran out the door after Sam. He only hoped he’d given Sam enough time…

A hard punch to his already bruised face had his head snapping to the side, his head reeling, and blood filling his mouth. Dean twisted and managed to kick one of the vampires in the face, breaking its nose, and knocking it away from him. Unfortunately it was up again in a second, kicking him so hard in the stomach he couldn’t breathe and he doubled over, coughing and gasping. A second later his arms were being wrenched behind him, cuffs locked around his wrists and ankles, and he was being dragged back to the center of the room where the vampires had used him before. He was kicked a few more times before the bitch’s voice rang out that was enough.

Dean looked up, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead into his eyes making it hard to see, but he could see clearly enough the other vampires returning… dragging Sam with them. Dean’s heart fell into his stomach. The devastation on his face real, that he’d failed letting Sam escape, and hopefully enough to cover up the hope that Bobby would be here soon, with help. How much of them was left to rescue would depend on how soon…

Sam's chin hit the hard floor painfully and he felt the skin split open. He really hoped it wasn't for nothing. He really hoped Dean's comparison of Bobby to a cockroach was accurate as far as being hard to kill. Fingers wrapped in his hair, his head was jerked back, his gaze brought up to meet that of Vanessa.

"I told you no heroics. I told you your boy-toy shouldn't get self-sacrificing. That's two strikes, Baby. I don't even know who I'm going to start with first. Pretty Boy is so fragile and I definitely don't want him dead. My children thoroughly enjoyed fucking him, and we intend to fuck him again very very soon, but we don't want to ruin him. He's got a bit too much 'spunk' in him right now," she chuckled at her play on words, "so I might just have to drink some of that out of him. I wonder how he'll enjoy watching my children fucking you again. I do hope it rips his heart out like it did you. Enough that you even tried to escape." She tsked. She let go of his hair and straightened looking between the two. Both had done a fair amount of damage to her children: broken noses, jaws, the pitchfork to the neck.

A smile spread across her face, causing a cold shiver to run through Sam.

"String up Pretty Boy." She turned to Sam. "I think you'll do the work on him this time."

"Fuck you," Sam growled.

She waved to the vampires who stood next to Sam. "Get him on his feet."

Once he was standing, the vampires holding him tightly in their grip, she moved in close to him. "You'll torture your pretty. If you don't I will. And there are a lot body parts he doesn't really need to live or still be a good fuck. Fingernails, fingers, toes, balls. He doesn't even really need his hands, does he? Take out his teeth and he'll give even better head. I could take both eyes, I suppose, but I would rather you be able to see his soul. So I'll just take one eye. The nose is pretty useless. I can carve that off a little shave at a time." She ran a fingernail down Sam's chest. When she reached his cock, she rubbed her fingers along its shaft. "So, shall I go to work on him, or shall you?"

Sam thought he'd hated her when she tortured him until the screams stole his voice. Hated her when she had tortured Dean. Hated her when they fucked him like they had fucked Dean. Hated her when they raped Dean. Just like she had given him a new definition of pain, she now gave him a new definition for hate. His eyes burned with it. His voice was soft, even, and filled with venom. "I will kill you Bitch, I will fucking rip your head from your shoulders, after I've given you back everything and more of what you've given me."

She laughed. "I take it that's a 'yes' then. You'll be Pretty's torturer for the night. Since I can't really trust you with a blade around your boy-toy, why don't we start with a whip?"

Though he’d known that escaping right then was about as farfetched idea as unicorns flying in and giving them a lift out of here, Dean couldn’t deny he had hoped that they could have gotten out… or at least one of them could have escaped. Though he’d known from the beginning that this was going to be their fate, the price they had to pay to get word out to Bobby where they were so they could be rescued, a chill still crawled up Dean’s spine when he heard the vampire bitch list off all the things they were going to be punished with now.

Though when she mentioned how they were going to fuck Sam again Dean’s eyes widened and a growl of anger escaped his throat before he could stop it. He supposed… it shouldn’t have surprised him that Sam had suffered the same fate he had, and would suffer again, but Dean literally saw red at the revelation. As though he hadn’t already had enough of a reason to want to see the bitch torn limb from limb, now he hoped he would get the chance to do the honors himself…

Dean was feeling far too much rage at the moment to feel any kind of fear when she told the other vampires to string him up. When he felt their hands grab him and pick him up off the floor he growled and twisted in their grip, Snapping at them with his teeth even, and they had a hell of a time getting his wrists unchained and then re-chained back over his head.

Then he heard what the bitch wanted Sam to do to him… and his heart felt like it was being torn in two inside his chest. Not for his own sake, but for Sam’s. He couldn’t help feeling a little bit ill as she listed off the things she would do to him if Sam didn’t torture him, and he knew Sam would do it. It would kill Sam, but he would do it.

Dean craned his head enough so that he could look at Sam. Giving the other man what he hoped was a reassuring look. He knew that she wouldn’t let Sam go “easy” on him, and that was fine. He didn’t care, he knew it wasn’t Sam doing this to him. It was her. He knew that Sam would never willingly hurt him.

“It’s ok, Sam.”

Sam's eyes went to the man he loved, seeing him hanging there like a fucking piece of meat waiting to be tenderized. When Dean's gaze met his own, Dean gave him a reassuring smile. Him. And Dean's words were almost worse than Dean spitting curses at him. It sure as hell was not okay, but he didn't have a choice. She would keep her word on what she would do to Dean. Probably would do it anyhow eventually if Bobby and his army didn't show. If Bobby wasn't dead and this escape attempt hadn't been for nothing.

His legs were chained and the collar lined with nails was fastened back around his throat, tightly enough that their points dug into his throat. She was smart enough to get out of range Sam noted when they unshackled him and cuffed his hands in front, with a long enough chain between the cuffs that he would be able to be an effective torturer. They hauled him over to where Dean hung by tugging on the collar, burying the nails into one side of his neck.

"No going easy on him, Baby. And I want you to tell him how much he disgusts you with every strike of that whip. How you could never fuck something that had had so many dicks shoved up his ass. What a slut he is. Get creative, or he will lose a finger or two."

No going easy on him. Sam had no intention of going easy on Dean. The harder he struck, the sooner Dean would be cut down. He gave a mute nod when they tossed him the whip.

He closed his eyes a moment, his head down. He looked back up and flicked a withering glare at her. "You want me to do this right, then I need my ribs wrapped."

She waved one of her children to do it while she pulled a chair over to watch, eager anticipation on her face. She longed to see those tears of the bad-ass vampire hunter slide down his face, to hear the tortured sobs escape his lips. She almost hoped he did choke so she could pull out a few fingernails, then cut off a few fingers. After the whip, the brand would be good, she mused.

His ribs stabilized, he gave the whip a few cracks, getting a feel for handling it, learning what its reach was and how he would need to strike with it. He had been very good with a whip at one time, but it had been years. He hoped it came back quickly, that he could strike exactly where he wanted to strike.

"I want to hear you tell me what a whore you are," Sam spat and snapped the whip across Dean's back. He hardened himself to Dean's cry. He had to be efficient. "Tell me how you enjoyed having a dick shoved up your ass." Crack. "You begged them to fuck you, slut, I could see it in your face." Crack. "It was even better when they were fucking you three ways. You had an orgasm." Crack. "Shows what a fucking whore you are. You whimpered, obviously wanting more." Crack. "You deserved everything they did to you." Crack. "Because you're nothing but a tramp, a filthy piece of ass."

He fought back the tears. He wouldn't give her that pleasure even though every cry he extracted from Dean was a knife to his gut. Would Dean still think it was okay by the time he was done? The thought of Dean hating him almost made him stop, almost brought the tears out. "I'll love you no matter what," Sam whispered, hoping Dean might hear him, and then he spat another line of filth at the man he would die for.

Dean swallowed nervously in spite of himself when he heard the first cracks of the whip, before they even touched his skin. He wasn’t sure what was going to be worse at this point. The pain of the lashes across his back or what she told Sam to say to him. It wouldn’t be Sam talking, he knew that, he knew Sam didn’t mean it, he was just doing it because they were forcing him to…

But when Sam called him a whore, Dean couldn’t help but inhale sharply and though he had promised himself he’d try not to scream he simply wasn’t able to when the whip opened up a line of fire across his back. Thankfully at least Sam didn’t expect him to actually answer in anything but screams. Dean didn’t think he would be able to no matter what she threatened to cut off him. Hearing what Sam was saying to him was bad enough…

How he enjoyed it when they raped him… how he begged for it… not true, none of it was true, he knew that but that didn’t make hearing it any easier. Mocking him how they’d forced him to come, forced him to “enjoy” it, Dean knew the tears that spilled from his eyes were not from the physical pain of being whipped. Telling him how he… deserved… it… The worst part of it was, Dean knew he had deserved it. He’d gotten Sam into this whole fucking mess. It was all his fault. If Sam had just killed him when he met him instead of trying to help him none of this would have happened.

Dean screamed louder with every strike of the whip across his back. Part of him hoping that if he screamed loud and long enough his own screams would block out what Sam was saying. His back was nothing but a mass of agony. He could feel the blood dripping from the crisscrossing wounds. Pain layered upon pain. The physical pain only made worse by the emotional lashing he was suffering at the same time, telling himself over and over Sam didn’t mean it, he couldn’t… but what if he did? All of what Sam was saying couldn’t come from nowhere, what if deep down Sam really did mean all of it? Maybe even Sam didn’t realize how much he meant it…

He didn’t know how much more he could take… of either… the whip or hearing Sam’s voice saying such awful, disgusting, hateful things to him. But he knew if he passed out then either they’d wake him up again or worse they’d put Sam in his place. So he clung to consciousness desperately, choking on the cries being ripped from his throat, telling himself over and over it couldn’t last much longer. He didn’t think he had that much unbroken flesh left on his back…

Sam’s eyes had turned frigid though his insides were a bonfire of hate. He finally stopped whipping Dean, letting the whip's blood soaked leather rest on the floor. He watched as his love's lifeblood dripped down his back, over his buttocks, down his legs, to pool below him.

“I didn't tell you that you could stop!” Vanessa snarled, furious that Cristo wasn’t sobbing, the torture shredding his soul as surely as the whip was shredding Dean's back.

“Any more and he’ll be permanently damaged. Any more and it’s no different than cutting off a body part,” Sam said flatly. “He’s nearly unconscious and his heart beat is growing in irregularity. Blood loss or shock will kill him soon. If he dies, you can do anything you want to me but you'll never get the pleasure of seeing my soul die, because it will already be dead. With him. Even Jessica's family and her friends—I just don't care about them if he is the price.”

She walked slowly up to him but stayed out of reach, staring into his blue-green eyes. As before, she saw there was no lie in them. There might not be tears, there might not be sobs, but this little game had deeply wounded Cristo. She most definitely did not want to lose Dean. The love he had for the human was phenomenal. The human seemed to care as deeply. "How long have you and the pretty been together?"

"A year."

"Really?" she asked, recalling that her children had laughed about how tight Dean's ass was. She slowly smiled. "I don't think so, Baby. His ass was too tight, too virgin. You haven't been with him long. That massive cock of yours would have stretched him out, at least a little."

With a flick of her delicate wrist, she waved to two of her children. As soon as they held Sam's arms she motioned a third forward. "Remove the collar, then pull his head back, expose his neck to me."

When that was accomplished she stepped close to him, running light fingers over his carotid. "It's been a long time since I've drunk from cruentis soldares, from blood soulmates. The meal is delicious. First you drink from one, then just as deeply from the other. The mix in the stomach is beyond invigorating, beyond ecstasy."

She bared her fangs and buried them deeply into Sam's neck and greedily fed from him. When she'd had what she thought would be the same amount she could safely drink from Dean, she straightened, Sam's blood coating he lips and dripping down her chin.

"Bring the Pretty Boy down. I want to taste him and prove my little theory is correct."

Sam watched and when she was in just the right position, he yanked free of the hand that gripped his hair and buried his fangs into her neck, biting down hard enough to rip flesh as he growled with greater menace than a predator protecting his kill. The growl was guttural and promised death; it was the sound of a predator protecting his mate.

Sam's arms were violently twisted behind him and he felt the bones in one forearm snap, then his knees were kicked from behind. The iron rod that had been brought over to be used as a brand was hastily retrieved and the back of his skull struck. Sam tried to hang on, to continue feeding from her, but his vision swam and his jaw loosen enough for her to pull away.

Her eyes smoldered with anger. She grabbed the iron bar and slammed it alongside Sam's head. "Your pretty is going to live a long, long time, Cristo. I promise you that. And if you are indeed bloodmates," a cruel smile came to her lips, "this will be positively delicious. I think we both know the true torment I'll be able to put you through."

Sam's head was still ringing but that didn't stop him from growling and hissing, struggling to reach her.

"String that son of a bitch up," she said, truly looking forward to carving Cristo into nothing but a mangled bag of flesh and bone at the moment.

She strode over to Dean, who was being lowered down. His face was coated with salty tears and twisted in a mask of pain, soft sobs and groans spilling from his lips. She yanked his head back and bit deeply into his neck, already anticipating the explosion of pleasure his blood was going to bring once it mixed with Cristo's.

Dean’s body was nothing but one big mass of pain. Everything hurt. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Living hurt. At first he didn’t even realize the blows from the whip had stopped raining down on his back. His back was on fire, worse than fire, but the rest of him felt ice cold. He still heard Sam’s voice, but by then he no longer understood the words coming from the other man. That had been a blessing. However he did hear the sudden vicious growl from Sam. Heard the vampire bitch scream, the other vampires shouting. He didn’t know what it meant, but he smelled the blood. Vampire blood being spilled. Both Sam’s blood and the blood of the bitch.

Dean whimpered. Clinging to consciousness by his fingertips. He wanted nothing more than to let the darkness take him. Swallow him up and wrap it in its cold fingers, giving him the only peace he would probably ever know from now on. The only place there wasn’t any pain. But he couldn’t… he had to hang on… for Sam he had to…

Some part of him realized he was being taken down, some part of him panicked, knowing if he was being brought down that meant it was Sam’s “turn”. No… he wasn’t going to let her rip Sam apart again. He wasn’t going to listen to those horrible screams… But there was nothing he could do. He felt his feet touch the floor and his legs only crumbled beneath him, if it wasn’t for the vampires who caught him and lowered him slowly he would have been lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor.

He cried out softly when he felt the hand twist in his hair and yank his head back cruelly. The smell of the blood was almost overpowering now. The bitch’s blood, Sam’s blood, his own blood. Everywhere. He felt the bitch vampire’s fangs sink deeply into his throat, and he cried out again. More pain… he didn’t know how much more he could take without losing his mind completely, it felt nothing like when Sam had bitten him, this was nothing but vicious greedy hunger.

The sudden release of the pressure against his throat, and the unexpected shriek of pain from the vampire bitch in his ear would have been gratifying if not for the fact it nearly made his eardrums bleed. Pain everywhere. Fire everywhere. Fire along his back. Burning through his veins. Blood. So much blood.

It all happened in seconds.

The vicious growl of anger and hunger his own throat produced would have shocked the hell out of him if he was capable of feeling that at the moment. Right now he wasn’t capable of feeling much but when he felt the hands on him loosen, the other vampires obviously shocked as hell by the reaction the vampire bitch had to drinking his blood. Dean’s eyes snapped open and they were blood red. Then his own cuffed hands were around the vampire bitch’s throat, twisting the chains viciously around the fragile neck as she sputtered, trying to throw up the blood she had drank from him. Sam had already opened up the wound in her throat, Dean merely latched on, sinking his human teeth as viciously into her wounded neck as any vampire. Growling, ripping, tearing and swallowing the gushing blood that coated them both.