He hurt. Every inch of him. His head throbbed like the ten worst migraines he had ever suffered all rolled in to one. His chest felt like it had been carved up like a Christmas turkey. Every muscle felt strained and overworked. It hurt to even open his eyes.

Sluggishly his mind struggled to put the pieces together of what had happened. A strange almost tangible connection to Dean was in his mind. Suddenly he was exactly aware of him in a way he never had been before. He felt Dean's pain, but in an abstract sort of way. He was simply 'aware' of it. He forced himself to sit up, the room spinning badly as he did so.

Curled up into a protective ball on the mattress was his brother. It seemed to take everything he had but he dragged himself over to Dean, fighting off the vertigo as the room twirled around him. As he grew closer to Dean, that connection seemed to grow stronger. He practically collapsed next to his older sibling and ran his fingers through Dean's hair. On Dean's chests runes had been incised…like the runes on his chest…and it all slowly dribbled back into his brain. He tried to wrap his healing power around them both, but nothing came. He was totally and completely spent.

The best he could manage was to pull Dean into his arms and plant light kisses on his brother's cheeks. He could taste the salt and knew his brother had been crying. His heart twisted in his chest. Tears. He never wanted to hurt his brother but he had. Surely, it had been to save his life, but he still regretted the pain. His brother's soul…he possessed it now. Bad enough he was Dean's 'master' but now he actually owned a soul. That was wrong, so terribly wrong.

"Please God, forgive me. I couldn't let him take Dean. It was all I knew to do. Forgive Dean for everything he's done. It wasn't his fault. It was never his fault. Forgive us both," Sam prayed softly. He kissed Dean's lips. "And forgive us for loving each other like we do. I know we're brothers, but he completes me. I hope this is part of Your plan. Give me the strength to fight the demon and forgive me for any sins I commit in doing so. Give me the strength to kill that bastard. If I die, if Dean dies, please keep us from Hell's grasp. Please grant us Your mercy and bless us with Your grace. Amen."

Rumbling seemed to come from all around the room and he clutched Dean a little tighter to him. He watched in horror as the walls to the panic room bent, rivets popping in random directions. The door made an ear rending screech as it twisted then was torn from its hinges. Sam's breath froze in his chest as the feeling of pure evil rolled into the room and his gaze met golden eyes.

Dean remembered the first time he had been whipped.

He had been four years old. He had been crying to go home to his mommy and daddy. Only mommy was dead. He had watched her die. He had heard her scream in Sammy’s room. He had been in the hallway. He knew he was supposed to be in bed, but something had woken up. He’d been worried about Sammy… and he had watched from the doorway as his Mommy’s belly was cut open. She was on the ceiling and he had watched her bleed down onto the floor by Sammy’s crib.

Then the man with the yellow eyes was there. He had screamed then. He had screamed for his daddy. Sammy started crying… He missed Sammy. He missed his mommy and he missed his daddy. His real daddy, not the man with the yellow eyes who told him to call him “father”.

He had told the man he wasn’t his daddy… that was when the whipping started. It didn’t stop until he finally called the yellow eyed man father. But he didn’t call him daddy…

Dean remembered most of his punishments. He remembered being punished because he didn’t train hard enough. Because he had disappointed his father. He remembered being beaten, and whipped, and cut, and the branding afterwards to stop the worst of the bleeding. He remembered when one punishment when he had dropped his knife while he had been practicing. He’d dropped it because his fingers had been so numb from cold, but not numb enough for him not to scream as every bone in his hand was broken. He remembered the pain of from the first time his father had taught him how to “please” him. He remembered how he had thrown up afterwards because he hurt so much, and the beating he received afterwards.

So much pain… his body remembered so much pain, but it was still nothing like this. He didn’t know at first what had woken him from the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness, but he resented it immediately. At least until he realized what the warmth wrapped around him was, what the soft touches to his face were, who the soft whispering voice belonged to.

Sammy… his Sammy…

Slowly he began to realize all the hurt he felt wasn’t only his own. Sam was hurt. Sam was in pain. That was enough to push his tortured mind closer to consciousness no matter how much it didn’t want to. He was still slow to realize what was happening. That the loud thumping noise wasn’t the pounding beat of his own heart. That the tortured scream he heard wasn’t of a person but metal ripping and tearing at the seams.

Dean’s blood froze in his veins as a cold darkness swept through the room that he knew all too well. The protection of the room destroyed, shattered, by an evil power greater than most human minds could comprehend.

Days… the most powerful spells Dean knew, the iron, the protective symbols, they had not even lasted days…

“You’ve been a very bad boy, Dean.” The soft measured words caused the temperature in the room to drop several more degrees. Dean didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want to see his father’s face staring down at him and his brother but he had to. The rage he saw in those fiery golden eyes was too terrifying for Dean to even tremble in Sam’s arms.

Sam forced himself to his feet, swallowing back the bile as his stomach threatened to rebel. It was probably a good thing he hadn't managed the strength to get to food to feed his starving body. It would surely be on the floor now.

The evil he felt emanating from the man frightened him like he had never been frightened before. He had promised Dean he would fight. He had promised Dean he wouldn't give in. For his brother he would be strong. For his brother he would find a way to kill the demon. Never mind he barely had the strength to stand and that all of his energy had been spent stealing Dean's soul from the demon. He would find a way to keep his promises. He would find a way to be strong in the face of his sheer terror. For Dean.

He stayed on his feet by sheer force of will. Every movement hurt and some of the wounds on his chest broke open when he moved, fresh rivulets of blood drizzling down his chest. He felt like he had been run over by a truck. Even so, he would not let Azazel touch his brother. He placed himself between the demon and Dean.

"He's mine now. You've no right to him," Sam said, surprised to hear his voice as strong sounding as it was. "By the old laws, he neither serves you nor do you own him." Sam leveled his gaze on the yellow eyed man. "You can't touch him."

Dean felt frozen. Pinned in place like an insect with a needle jammed through its body on display and just as helpless. He had talked so bravely to Sam before about fighting Azazel. About killing him. Telling Sam he was stronger. Promising not letting the demon lay a hand on his brother… and now when faced with his demon father, the one who had raised him, tortured him, taught him to kill, and fear, and obey his every command… all Dean felt was helplessness…

Sam…

He could tell Sam felt it too. Dean could feel Sam's fear. It was just as intense as his own. Yet, Sam rose. His brother stood in front of him, as though he could protect him. Sam protecting him. As though he even needed protecting. As though the demon wanted him.

Azazel no longer wanted him. His father no longer needed him. He was worthless…

The demon wanted Sam…

Those golden yellow eyes shifted away from Dean to look at Sam and if possible Dean's fear only grew. However it was no longer fear for himself, but for his brother, his lover, his master and as one fear canceled out the other he felt the paralysis over his limbs vanish. He shoved is arms underneath his body, not caring in the least how much it hurt to move as he began to push himself up onto his knees.

Azazel stared at the younger man, a cold smile curving his lips at Sam's declaration.

"Is he now?" He asked, almost curiously, before the demon laughed in genuine amusement. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy… You certainly haven't disappointed me."

The demon took a step towards his brother. The iron floor of the room hissing under its feet and Dean could feel the other demons waiting just outside, beyond the destroyed wall that used to be the door that led to the basement. Still unable to enter. Azazel's eyes roamed hungrily down the length of Sam's body before they met the younger man's eyes again with a searing intensity.

"You want him? Very well. If you agree to take his place, if you come with me without a fuss, you can have him. He'll be yours to do with however you like. No one will lay a hand on him." The demon practically purred, reaching a hand out to the younger man. "Do we have a deal, Sammy?"

Sam gave the demon a tight smile and ignored the outstretched hand. "It's 'Sam.' I would disappoint you if I said yes to that pathetic offer. I already own him. He's already mine. Don't treat me like I'm stupid Azazel."

He had promised Dean he wouldn't make a deal with the demon, but what choice did he have? It was taking everything in him just to stand. Azazel had him by the shorthairs. He could tell the demon to go fuck himself, but all Azazel really had to do was toss them across the threshold and the others would be on them. They were prisoners. The shackles just hadn't been put on them yet.

It was possible that the demon couldn't make them leave the room unless they did so willingly, but the bastard could simply gut them inside the room. He supposed the thing in front of him could be an illusion trying to sucker them to leave, but he doubted it.

"I won't be your slave, and I won't give you my soul. Make me an offer that doesn't insult my intelligence."

Even at full strength, no matter what Dean said, it unlikely that he would be able to beat Azazel without more training. As unsavory as it was, there was only one way to get it at this point.

Dean’s heart seized a little in his chest when he heard the “offer” that the demon made to Sam. The deal. Despite his brother’s promise to him earlier that he would not make a deal with Azazel, the fear in his heart now that Sam would break that promise was very real.

“No…” Dean managed to groan out, clenching his teeth in pain. Sam’s reply to the demon, his refusal, not at all easing that fear. Especially when Azazel’s response to the younger man’s bold reply was to throw his head back and laugh. From beyond the threshold the other demons joined in that laughter.

Azazel dropped his hand, his yellow eyes glinting with amusement and Dean knew from experience that was never good.

“And here I thought you were smarter than that, Sammy. How’s this for a better offer?” Azazel’s eyes suddenly shifted to him with murderous intent and suddenly Dean couldn’t breathe. It felt like a barbed wire was being wrapped around his throat and he suddenly found himself lifted up off the ground, his feet legs kicking uselessly in mid air as his fingers clawed at his throat.

The demons beyond the room laughed louder. Azazel merely watched him choking with a bored expression before turning his eyes back to Sam.

“Stop me if you can, tough guy.” However the words were barely out of the demon’s mouth before Dean watched in horror as Sam was thrown back against the far wall of the room and pinned there by Azazel’s power. “Or watch him die.”

Sam felt his blood ice as the demon laughed.

Demons always countered with death. That's what Dean had done when Sam offered himself in exchange for his father. And now Azazel threatened his brother. There was no dealing with demons if they had anything to hold over you, and why would you deal with a demon if they didn't have something in the first place that you wanted. Fucked was an understatement. He started to move to stop the demon, or to help his brother, something, when he found himself thrown into the far wall and pinned there, Azazel's challenge ringing in his ears.

Red fury filled him, all but blinding him. He had fought too hard to save his brother to have his brother die at the hands of the demon. His mind grabbed onto the chains that led to Dean's soul, let his and his brother's powers twine and he dove inside Dean's mind. The terror he felt in Dean only infuriated him more. He found those chains that bound Dean's powers which were marked with Azazel's energy. Thin threads led back to the demon master and Sam latched onto them hungrily. He drank down what energy he could siphon, feeling the links binding Dean's powers shatter as he absorbed more and more energy from the demon. With his new found strength he threw Azazel back into the wall and pulled himself free of the dark power that pinned him. He called Dean to him as he broke the demon's power choking the life out of his brother. Dean's body was suddenly in his arms. He cradled his gasping brother, and glared with fiery hatred at Azazel.

"No one touches him. My soul's not for sale," Sam snarled.

He had to do something… He had to do something! He had to help his brother! He had to save Sam! Nothing else mattered, god damn it! Those words echoed over and over in his mind even as darkness began to edge around his vision as Azazel proceeded to squeeze the life out of him. As he watched Sam struggling, helpless, against the demon’s power holding him.

And yet, he couldn’t do anything…

Dean didn’t care what happened to him, but he couldn’t let Azazel have Sam. That meant he had to fight! He had to! He had to forget all of his training that had rushed right back to the surface at the sight of his former master. Like a dog trained not to turn against its master no matter how badly it was abused. That was Dean right now. It was instinct. Like breathing or the beating of his heart.

But Azazel was no longer his master. The demon did not even own his soul any longer. Sam did. He would save Sam. He would!

Yet before Dean could do anything he felt his brother’s power flooding his mind. He felt the younger man’s powers tangle with his own, like he had warned Sam not to do before, but now it didn’t matter. Dean was Sam’s. And as their powers flowed together so that one was barely distinguishable from the other he felt them both growing stronger from it.

Stronger together than apart…

He could feel Sam siphoning off the energy from Azazel through Dean. Dean shuddered as the dark energy flowed through him, into Sam… but as much as he feared what this power would do to his brother he could do nothing to stop it.

In seconds the tables were turned. Sam had directed that power back at the demon, throwing Azazel back, breaking the demon’s hold on himself and Dean, and Dean knew many of the demons surrounding them had to be as shocked as he was. As Azazel surely was.

Dean gasped and choked for breath in his brother’s arms. Held protectively.

Unfortunately it did not take long for the demon to recover. The golden yellow eyes locked on them was filled with so much murderous fury at that moment Dean was afraid that Azazel would give up on his plan to take Sam alive and simply strike them both down where they stood. The dark energy Dean felt filling the room certainly seemed to support that theory. The white blinding blast of light aimed at them was certainly just for that purpose.

Dean reacted without thought. Protect Sam. That’s all that mattered. Dean threw up a shield around them, and struggled out of Sam’s arms to wrap around him instead. Protecting his brother with is body even as his powers tried to protect them both from the blast. The energy from Azazel hitting his shield with a force of a freight train, cracks already beginning to appear along its surface, threatening to shatter.

Sam didn't have enough left in him to keep the demon pinned. If he had managed to steal more away, or if Dean wasn't as exhausted as he was and he could steal from Dean, then maybe he could have. He most certainly didn't have a clue how to kill the demon.

He met the golden eyes with his own fury and anger. He would deal with the demon. He didn't have a choice. That little stunt had only bought them time. But he had made it perfectly clear his two rules. He kept his soul and no one touched his brother…

Then the room grew cold.

It was like an electrical storm. Every hair on him shifted restlessly, every nerve prickled. The room filled with a terrible dark evil and Sam found it hard to breathe. A part of him thirsted for that darkness while another reviled it. Sam barely realized what was happening as his brother struggled free. One moment he was holding his brother, the next moment his brother was wrapped around him, protecting him from the blinding blast. He could sense the shield Dean erected and he could sense it was failing. He poured what little he had left, everything he had left, into his and Dean's connection, feeding Dean all his strength.

The shield held. The light faded and they were still alive. Sam looked into his brother's eyes.

"I love you," he whispered. That was all he managed before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in Dean's protecting arms, unconscious.

Dean knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold the shield. It would collapse and he and his brother would be burned away to nothing but ash. Maybe in hindsight he should have let it happen, simply let the demon kill him and his brother, but he had reacted upon instinct. His instinct to protect Sam in that moment outweighing anything else, even the knowledge that protecting Sam and saving Sam were unfortunately two completely different things.

He might have protected his brother only to damn him…

All of this went through Dean’s mind only after the powerful blast began to fade. After his brother had given him every last dram of power he had to help him hold the shield that had protected them both. Only after Sam’s soft whispered words and when the younger man slumped unconscious in his arms. Only after he heard the amused laughter of his father standing close behind him…

He’d failed. He’d promised Sam he would save him, protect him, and he had failed. There was only one thing… one thing left… and as he cradled his defenseless unconscious brother in his arms Dean wished again he’d simply let the demon kill them both. Because even as he cradled the younger man in his arms and determination filled his eyes he didn’t know if he was going to be able to…

“I always knew Sammy boy was the one. The strongest. The best of the best. And you’ve handed him right to me, Dean. Not exactly in the way I was planning, but this is so much better.” The demon mused, almost to himself. Dean turned his head to look up at the demon, his father, a mixture of rage and fear on his face, and Azazel chuckled again.

He didn’t have his knives on him, they were buried somewhere under the ruins of the room around them. He didn’t have any weapons, he didn’t even have enough strength left to use his powers, but he didn’t need them to kill. Quick. Painless. All he had to do was snap his neck… Sam would never even wake up…

Yet even as he found the resolved to do it, even as he shifted his hold on Sam to carry out the horrible deed, Azazel must have sensed his intent because suddenly he was thrown back away from his brother. His body impacting with the wall with a bone jarring force and he was barely conscious enough to hear the demon making a soft tsking sound.

“Bad move, Dean-o. Very bad. But you might still be of some use to me…” Azazel chuckled again, and that was the last thing Dean heard.

Blood. Vomit. Rotting flesh. Those were the things Sam smelled as he slowly climbed his way back to consciousness. Sounds that he finally recognized as distant screams echoed in the room. All of him hurt, but his aching shoulders stood out as the most painful. He opened his eyes and slowly got his feet under him. He was naked in the middle of a well lit room, his wrists shackled, the chains leading up to a ring bolted into the ceiling. When he was standing the chains were long enough that he could bring his hands down just below shoulder level. Long dried blood coated the floor and there were piles of things Sam didn't want to particularly identify scattered here and there in the room.

He licked his dry lips and saw the pitcher of water, its glass sides dripping with condensation as the ice inside slowly melted, sitting on a table not far away. He obviously couldn't reach it, chained as he was. Trying to call up his powers he could feel them stir, but not enough for him to levitate the water over to him to ease his painful thirst. He stomach gnawed, discontent, on his backbone. He wasn't really sure when he last ate and 'starving' felt like too inadequate a term to use.

In his mind he could sense Dean's presence nearby. His brother was in pain, a lot of pain. He slowly shook his head. He had given Azazel the perfectly obvious tool to use against him. No one was to touch his brother. So obviously, Azazel would. His soul was not for sale. Obviously, Azazel would demand it. He was such a fucking idiot. The demon had been right. No matter what he had promised Dean, he should have simply agreed to take Dean's place. Dean would be safe and he would be learning how to use his abilities. Fucking idiot was too gentle a term he decided. So what now? Take whatever deal Azazel offered him? If he sold his soul to Azazel, he was damned and Dean right along with him.

He nodded slowly to himself. No matter the cost, his soul was not for sale. He would serve the bastard, but would not give up his soul. If…if he did, if he convinced Azazel to set Dean free, to transfer Dean's soul to Bobby, maybe Dean could steal Sam's soul from Azazel…If Dean's powers we no longer chained, Dean was probably going to be a helluva lot more powerful. The demon had trained him well. Dean could surely do it.

Sam examined the shackles. There wasn't a key. They were welded closed. He studied one of the links and tried to make it twist open, but as before, he was still too tired to be able to wield his powers. His head snapped up when he heard the door open.

Azazel stood for a moment in the doorway, a smile playing at his lips.

Patience wasn’t a virtue shared by many of his brethren, but Azazel had not survived over the eons, had not gotten to where he was, so close to his goal, without being patient. As he stared at the limp form of his adopted “son” hanging in shackles, watching the blood dripping down his face and bare chest, and listened to his weak wheezing breaths, the demon mused on how all of his plans… well, had not gone according to plan. Almost from the very beginning…

Dean. The boy shouldn’t have even existed. Imagine his surprise when he’d entered the Winchester household that night. His only goal had been to give the infant boy a small taste of his demon blood, as he’d done to countless other children. His blood, the blood of a fallen angel, which would give the boy near unlimited power beyond that of any human.

However he’d known from the beginning that Sam would be even more special. Because of his mother. Sammy was his pick. The others were more of a test than anything else. Experimenting. He knew once they all came of age, once their powers matured, that Sam’s would outshine them all. He was counting on it…

What he wasn’t counting on was the second child in the Winchester household. The boy who had wandered in wide eyed at his mother’s screams. Azazel had been shocked by his appearance, surely. All the other children were first born. In one rare case, twins. This boy… this boy was completely unexpected.

Azazel had taken the boy almost on a whim. Curious more than anything, and the opportunity simply too good to pass up. He’d fed the boy large quantities of his blood. He’d trained him. Raised him. More as an amusing way to pass the time than anything else, at least at first. The way Dean had taken to his training, the way his powers had developed, was frankly astounding. In fact, he’d had to chain a good portion of the boy’s gifts, worried his pet’s powers might one day even exceed his own. Dean had been the perfect slave. A lethal killer, and certainly well suited for any other amusements his master wished him to perform.

Still, as impressed as Azazel had been with Dean, the boy was not his first pick. He considered Dean more of a rough draft than anything.

Sending Dean after his own brother had been like killing two birds with one stone. Awakening Sam’s gifts and having Sam kill his own brother would set the boy well on the path Azazel needed him to be on… Again, things had not gone to plan.

But as Azazel turned his back on the human boy he’d raised, Dean’s screams following him out of the cell as one of the torturers began using the whip on him again, he mused that this outcome might just work to his advantage. The deep caring Sam had for his brother would make him vulnerable. Dean was just the leverage he needed to force the younger man to obey him. Serve him. To become everything that Azazel had already turned his older brother into, and more. Once he was done, he would have no further use for Dean.

However if he had both of them… nothing would ever stand in his way again. Nothing.

Azazel smiled as he arrived at the door to Sam’s cell. The demon in charge of guarding the young man opened the door for him and he was pleased to find Sam awake.

“Welcome home, Sammy.”

Sam glared at Azazel. He was fucked. The demon knew it as readily as he did. So what did he do? Ask for the original deal? He wished Dean had taught him how to 'deal' with demons. Whatever he asked for, it was unlikely he would get unless he offered up something valuable, something the demon wanted. If he asked about Dean that only confirmed what the demon already knew. He could tell Dean was being tortured even now and some of the screams he heard were surely his brother's. He wanted to rip Azazel apart. Someday he would. But not today.

So how to deal with him? Demons apparently didn't like arrogance. His eyes narrowed, recalling the way Dean had been once he decided Sam was his master. Obedient to a fault. Doing anything Sam asked. Trying to anticipate what Sam wanted. He laughed bitterly to himself. Obedience wasn't something he was great at. He raled against his father as he got older, resisting everything his dad wanted him to learn or do.

For Dean, he would do what he had to. Even this.

Head bowed, Sam went to his knees, even though it meant his arms we above him and his aching shoulders protested. He tried to keep the resentment out of his voice but didn't think he did a good job of it. "Thank you, Father," Sam grit out.

The demon couldn't help but chuckle at Sam's suddenly all too submissive attitude, a far cry from his posturing from before. It was nothing but an act, of course. The proud young man wasn't the least broken or submissive to him. Sam couldn't keep the defiance out of his voice even as he pretended to submit.

Still, it amused Azazel and he couldn't deny how pleasing to the eye his newest "son" was right now. Naked and kneeling on the bloodied floor, his head bowed, and the demon couldn't help but wonder how far Sam would take this little act. Would he lift his head like a good little boy and suck his cock if Azazel told him to?

The demon approached the young man, putting two fingers underneath Sam's chin and lifting Sam's face up to him. Oh yes, he could definitely see himself enjoying fucking that defiant little mouth.

"Taking lessons from your brother, Sammy? He was always such a good little whore." Azazel remarked, enjoying the fire that burned in the younger man's eyes when he spoke of Dean like that. The demon ran his thumb over Sam's full lower lip before shoving the young man's face hard enough that if his arms weren't chained above his head he probably would have toppled over.

"I guess you know that, though, don't you? Had a taste of him yourself, did you? Tut tut, Sammy. Didn't you hear? Incest is a sin." The demon's smile turned cold.

"I don't need another whore. I need a soldier. An obedient one." As Azazel spoke, the door to the cell opened and two demons entered rolling in carts filled with various implements of torture. The demon walked over to one of the carts and picked up a long whip.

Sam waited, head down, for whatever the demon chose to do. He hoped his submission would put the demon in a good enough mood he could ask to see Dean, ask for Azazel to stop the tortures they were wreaking on his brother. Maybe the demon would offer a deal Sam could live with. Azazel's amusement he hoped was a good sign.

Sam ground his teeth as the demon approached. He needed food, water, and more rest to get his powers back up to anything approaching strength. Maybe he could ask for those as well. At least some water. He was so damned thirsty.

It took great restraint not to jerk away from the demon's touch and let the demon tilt his head back so Sam was looking into Azazel's face. To hear the demon speak of Dean the way he did only fanned his anger. He didn't react as Azazel ran his thumb over his lower lip. The creature had used Dean as a sex toy. Sam resigned himself to also being used that way. If the demon wanted Sam to pleasure him… he would force himself to do it. Or let the demon take pleasure from Sam's body. Besides, he could hope if he did a good enough job, Dean might be left alone.

He was startled when Azazel shoved him away and he couldn't stop the gasp as his tender shoulders took the sudden shift in his weight. He glared defiantly back at the demon, forgetting for the moment he was supposed to be submissive. Whether incest was a sin was between him and God. There were rare cases where God permitted incest and he could only hope he and Dean might fall into that category. He has asked for forgiveness and according to scripture, all one had to do was ask and mean it. Of course, that also meant he should not do it again, but the way he and Dean were connected, it seemed as if God accepted they would be together as lovers.

Azazel wanted a soldier? Just like his real father. And that hit a nerve in him. Was that all he was ever meant to be? A good little obedient soldier? Well he sucked at the obedient part.

His eyes fell on the implements on the carts and felt his blood run cold. He climbed to his feet and rose to his full height. Oh, fuck no. He had seen his older brother when they were younger, seen all the terrible things done to him. He recognized more of the tools on those carts than he ever wanted to acknowledge. He watched as Azazel picked up the whip and turned to him. There was fear in his eyes and he knew it, but he couldn't hide it. Azazel didn't even offer him a deal. Didn't offer him anything. Merely moved behind him and the first crack of that stinging strike across his back brought a cry of pain from his throat as his skin split open. Soon there was nothing but blinding pain, the wetness of his blood pooling on the floor, joining that already there. His screams echoed in the chamber with every blow. He should have known better than to beg the demon to stop. He had seen what they had done to Dean when Dean had asked for such things. Soon his voice was lost to the even more brutal attacks. He hung by his wrists, tears streaming down his face, silently screaming with every new vicious blow.

Azazel looked down at the bloodied, beaten, young man with a pleased smirk playing across his face.

Virgins.

The first time was always the sweetest. The first time they felt the fire of the lash across their skin. The first time his knife leaving beautiful bloody designs in flawless skin. The first time they smelled their own flesh burning because of the brand… always so perfect. He loved the startled, surprised, and pained screams they made the first time. It never took much that first time to make them cry and beg for mercy.

Over time many got used to the torture, conditioned to withstand the pain, and it would take more and more to make them scream. The same amount of torture that would probably kill a man the first time, they could endure, and it never failed to amuse Azazel to work someone up to that point. But the first time was still his favorite.

The demon ran his fingers almost tenderly through the sweaty bloody hair of the younger man before he stepped away returning the now blood coated whip to the cart.

“As you can see, Sammy, disobedience and defiance has its consequences.” Azazel said softly, almost as though he were comforting a small child. He walked over to the table where the pitcher of ice water still sat and poured a large glass. He took a sip from the glass with an audible sigh of pleasure, before he returned to Sam’s side.

“But obedience and loyalty has its rewards…” The demon said as he held the glass to Sam’s lips to drink.

He didn't know how long it went on. He lost count of the times the whip struck his back. Each time it did, he prayed it would be the last. He hardly noticed the bite of the shackles into his wrists or they way his shoulders hurt every time the the fire struck his back and he jerked. Then the lashing stopped. He gasped, his face creased with pain. His back still burned as if the whipping continued. The blood seemed to be a steady stream from his back. He wondered how it was possible he hadn't lost enough blood to fall unconscious. He wondered how the pain hadn't made him black out. But at the moment he was just grateful to try to take in a breath that wasn't exhaled as a scream. It was over. It was finally over.

He didn't even feel the heat before the hot brand was pressed against his back. A scream he didn't think was left in him was ripped from his already raw throat as he arched away the burning agony, his eyes widening as he tried to find the strength to get away from the hot metal. His own blood coated the floor, making it slick and gave him leverage. The brand was pressed against his back again and again. He whimpered and begged again for them to stop, forgetting what happened when he begged. Azazel reminded him. The brand had only been held against his skin briefly until he asked them to stop. With that request, Azazel pressed the hot metal against his raw flesh and held it there. Sam twisted and writhed, biting his lip bloody to keep from again asking them to stop. The smell of his own burned flesh was almost enough to make him wretch. The sound of its long drawn out sizzle was horrifying to hear. Azazel pulled it away and Sam thought some of his own flesh was pulled away with it, but then it was held against him again and pain was all that filled his thoughts.

Sam didn't have the strength to look up when he finally heard the clatter of metal. Some part of his mind knew the brand was being set aside and he wept with relief. Then he felt the blade carve into his arms and his screams were ragged wheezes. This time he didn't ask for them to stop. He wanted to. He begged for them to in his mind, but he didn't dare voice it as the demon carved into his flesh. He could only weep with the pain. The brands came next, cauterizing the wounds.

"Tears are a sign of weakness, Sammy," the demon tsked and punched him in the face a handful of times before picking up the blood-drenched whip and starting on him again. It wasn't as long this time. At least, he didn’t think it was, but his freshly cauterized wounds split open and it was even more painful if that were possible. He tried to stop his tears but he couldn't. He just couldn't. He had never been in such agony. He hardly noticed it when the whipping did stop. He tried to brace himself for the brand, tried to listen for Azazel approaching with it, but all he could hear was the pounding of his heart and his own tortured breathing. He barely heard the demon's words before the demon walked away.

He almost sobbed. Was it over this time? Was it really over? God, please let it be over.

Obedience…loyalty…water!

His mouth was so dry his tongue was almost swollen. He accepted the offered water, only managing a few small sips at first until the glue in his mouth dissipated. His raw throat ached as the cold water touched it, but he drank it greedily. When the glass was empty he wanted to ask for more but if asking them to stop meant more pain, asking for more water would surely mean he didn't get any.

All he could do was look at the empty glass longingly and pray the demon gave him more water.

Azazel watched the young man greedily drink the water he offered with amusement, one hand gently petting Sam’s hair while he held the glass to the young man’s lips with the other. Only giving him small sips at first, making sure he did not choke himself by drinking too fast. The glass was emptied in short order and the demon chuckled again at the longing desperate look that Sam gave the empty glass, condensation still dripping down its smooth sides.

“Want some more?” He asked Sam with feigned curiosity as though he didn’t know how desperate the young man was for more water.

He held out the glass and one of the other demons approached with the full pitcher and quickly filled it. But Azazel simply held the full glass and did not press it to the younger man’s lips yet.

“You will take your brother’s place. You will learn to use the gifts I have given you. You will lead my army, and in return, I will give you everything you desire…” A particularly loud scream from his former ‘son’ made Azazel smirk turn practically deadly.

“Or you can continue to experience the fate of traitors and weaklings. It’s up to you, Sammy.” The demon said, before bringing the glass once more to Sam’s lips.

Sam's eyes were locked on that tantalizing pitcher of ice water. He was still so desperately thirsty. He watched hopefully as the glass was refilled. It took a moment for Azazel's words to filter through the pain and past that desire for the cool refreshing water.

He heard Dean's screams and felt the ethereal chains binding Dean's soul to him vibrate with agony. But then the cold glass filled with water was pressed to his lips and he took it eagerly. He wasn't sure anything had ever tasted so damned good. When the water was gone he licked his lips, trying to wet them and ease the dry cracked feeling they had. He couldn't help but hope for more.

Azazel was offering him a deal, the same deal as before and a part of him screamed for him to accept it. The demon was watching him, an evil smirk curling his lips. If he gave up his soul, he gave up Dean's. He swore he would save his brother from Azazel. He would save his brother from Hell.

Sam closed his eyes. He knew even if he said yes, Azazel would continue the torture. Dean had proven owning someone's soul did not correlate to loyalty. And Azazel wanted an obedient and loyal soldier. He would torture Sam until he got that. Until Sam could tolerate pain the way Dean could. Until he responded without a thought to whatever his master ordered.

His voice was rough and little more than a whisper. "Go fuck yourself."

Azazel’s eyes narrowed and that was the only warning he gave before slamming the empty glass against the young man’s temple, shattering it. Then he smiled, but there was nothing kind or amused in that smile.

“I think I’d rather fuck your brother.” The demon replied to the young man before turning to one of the other demons in the room. “Bring the other one.”

The lower demon bowed and immediately left the room to carry out its master’s wishes. Within minutes, it was returning, two other demons following dragging with them the bloodied and barely conscious Dean.

There didn’t seem to be an inch of his body that wasn’t torn or bruised. When they dropped him on the ground at Azazel’s feet, he didn’t move, though a soft groan of pain did escape his throat and he flinched slightly at the sound of Azazel’s voice.

“It’s time to show your brother just what a good little whore you are, Dean.”

When the glass smashed into shards against his temple, Sam gave only the barest of grunts. He had expected worse and the glass to his head was nothing compared to how the rest of his body hurt. The demon's cold smile sent chills through him.

Even with Azazel's declaration, Sam couldn't help feel just a tiny bit elated. He would get to see Dean. Even in such a horrid situation, even knowing he might hear his brother say things or do things that would kill his soul, he would at least get to see his brother.

Though every movement brought new ripples of pain, Sam shifted so he was putting less strain on his shoulders. He tried not to voice his pain, knowing it would only please the demonic bastard.

Sam's breath caught when he saw his brother's condition and he couldn't stop the tears that came to his eyes. This was his fault. He was the reason Dean had turned against Azazel. He was the reason Dean had all but been shredded by the bastards. They wouldn't kill him, he told himself. They wouldn't kill him because he was too useful to use against Sam.

The demon's words cut into Sam's soul deeper than any of the tortures had and he suddenly found himself on his feet. He hardly recognized his own voice and he growled, "He's not a whore, you bastard."

The darkness swelled inside Sam and he let loose its wrath on the demon, slamming him into the closest wall. Shocked, the other three demons stood frozen. Sam looked at the demon that had gone to retrieve Dean and slammed him into another wall, hearing the sickening crunch of bone and smiling as it collapsed to the floor. The two who had brought Dean in started moving toward Sam, but he swept them out the door, slamming it closed and locking it in their wake. Chips of stone sprinkled to the floor as the ring attached to the ceiling gave and the chains it held tumbled to the ground in a heap. Sam's eyes blazed as he moved his brother to him and wrapped him in his arms. He shut his eyes and twisted his power, healing Dean and healing himself.

"I've got you big brother. I've got you," he whispered, kissing Dean's forehead. When he heard Azazel move, he glanced at the tools of torture laid out on the carts and launched them all at the demon.

Dean had woken up in agony. The torturers had begun on him before he even regained consciousness. Then he had heard Sam screaming. He had felt his brother’s pain over the chains that now bound his soul to Sam and that had been worse than any pain the demon torturers inflicted upon him. Every scream that was ripped from his throat, echoed by the younger man, was a reminder of Dean’s failure. He’d promised to keep Sam safe. He’d promised not to let this happen to his brother. He had failed… Every time the lash fell across his back or a knife cut into his skin, every time he screamed, he knew this time he deserved every pain and more.

When they stopped all of a sudden Dean didn’t know what was happening. It was far too soon for them to give him a “break” even though they hadn’t pulled any punches on him either. He hadn’t been tortured this badly in a long time. He could barely see through the blood dripping into his eyes as they cut him down and he collapsed boneless onto the floor. Every movement agony of course because they’d left practically no inch of him untouched. He knew he was leaving a trail of blood on the floor as they dragged him.

He didn’t move when they finally dropped him unceremoniously. Though he flinched when he heard his father’s voice, his words… Sam… he was going to, in front of Sam… Dean didn’t know what was worse, the threat itself or knowing that his brother was going to watch. That this was probably the only time he would lay eyes on the younger man.

But then he felt Sam’s power flare darkly and suddenly… he was in Sam’s arms, the pain was fading, his brother was healing him, healing them, and Sam had…

“Sam…” Dean managed a soft gasp of awe at what his brother had done through his raw throat as he looked up at the young man cradling him. Sam’s soft kiss… how could his brother still kiss him after how Dean had failed him? The moment of comfort Dean had never thought to receive in the first place was over almost as soon as it began. He felt his demon father’s rage over what Sam had done like an icy fist gripping his heart. Sam shouldn’t have… Dean had never dared to use his powers against his father to stop his torture, his punishment, he’d never wanted to know what the consequences of such a defiance would be.

But the look in the demon’s eyes as Sam attacked their father with the very implements of torture being used on them was terrifying. The demon swatted them away effortlessly, unfortunately, most of the sharp objects imbedding themselves in the flesh of the other demon in the room. Dean could only feel a brief flicker of relief that Azazel had not launched them back at them instead before he was torn out of Sam’s arms, Sam pinned to one wall of the cell and Dean to the other and he could not move even to blink his eyes. Azazel walked up to stand in front of Sam, the demon’s golden yellow eyes practically on fire with rage. But was there also curiosity in the demon’s gaze as well?

“I see you haven’t quite learned your lesson yet, Sammy.” Azazel practically growled, even as he ran his fingers through the blood on Sam’s chest, beneath the blood nothing but whole flesh now. “I guess that means we’ll just have to start over, doesn’t it?”

Azazel glanced towards Dean and then chuckled as he turned his eyes back to Sam.

“You’re willing to go through all of that pain again for him? What if I told you he tried to kill you? That’s right, after you risked everything for him, he tried to kill you to save himself. As long as you were alive he knew I would choose you over him.”

Dean’s eyes filled with horror at what the demon told Sam. It wasn’t true! That’s not why he had… he only wanted to save Sam. To save him from this…

It was so sudden he didn't even have a chance to deflect it. Dean was ripped from his arms and slammed into the far wall while he was slammed and pinned to another. He had pissed Azazel off but good. And all he felt was smugness.

Start over. Enduring the whip, the brands, the blades, and anything else Azazel decided to get creative with. He hadn't actually meant to heal himself. He never did. It just sort of happened. He still didn't really understand how he did it, but he didn't understand how to wield his powers particularly well in the first place.

Sam just couldn't stop the laughter, and he knew that would probably make the demon even more pissed at him. And he didn't give a damn.

"You think I don't know my brother's mind? I'm not surprised he tried. He didn't want you to get your claws into me. He wanted to protect me from you, father.

"You called him a weakling. He chose me over you. He found the courage to leave you and serve me. He's no weakling.

"You were his everything. Are you jealous? Pissed that it didn't go as you planned? Pissed I didn't kill him? Pissed that he loves me so much he would endure your wrath, knowing full well what he would suffer because of taking me as his new master?"

Sam felt the power wrapping around him, holding him, and snagged it in his own dark tentacles, breaking the hold after a moment of effort. He could tell it drained him. He didn't try to attack Azazel this time. "You want me to serve you? I'll serve you. But you don't get my soul. You want to train me? I'll accept your training, but you seem to be doing a pretty damned good job of it without the official lessons even starting. You hurt Dean again? You touch him? You have any of your lackeys touch him? You order me to touch him? And I'll find a way to fucking kill your ass."

Sam walked by Azazel and to the center of the room. He glanced at the chains and the ring that had held them in the ceiling. The ring shot back up to the ceiling and embedded itself. He glanced at Dean and snapped Azazel's hold on him. He gave Dean a loving smile, then his face turned stoic. "Since it's apparent I need to learn to endure pain a lot better than I can, let's get to it." He turned, facing the demon, and knelt. "You've got a fresh canvas, Master." After a moment, he added, "I beg you to provide Dean with food and water and let him sleep in comfort. If not for him, I wouldn't be on my knees before you."

Sam knew if he could keep the rage stoked, he could strike back against Azazel. Once it faded, once the torture began, his powers would be sapped and he would be even weaker. The thought of what Azazel might make him do sickened him, but he would abide by the offered agreement if the demon accepted it. If not, then the next chance he got he'd try to flex his powers again. He would keep doing it until he found a way to pound the fucking demonic bastard into dust.

Dean stared at his brother in shock and in any other situation it probably would have been comical. He wasn't sure which one of them was more surprised by Sam's outburst. Him or Azazel. Frankly, for a moment, the demon looked speechless. Unfortunately that only lasted for about two seconds before his father's expression changed to one of rage. Dean had a moment to fear for his brother's life as he struggled against Azazel's invisible bonds holding him in place, but at Sam's next words a cold silence fell over the room.

Serve him… train him… no… NO!

Dean struggled even more fiercely in the demon's grip but it was Sam's power that finally broke the invisible hold and Dean practically fell forward as he scrambled to try to get to the younger man. But though his body was now healed he was much too weak to do anything but crawl, he couldn't even muster his power against his former demon master no matter how much he wanted to.

"Sam, no!" He tried, but Azazel easily silenced him and froze him in place once again. There was now amusement and a cold smugness on the demon's face that scared him more than he had ever been frightened in his whole life. Fear for Sam…

Suddenly the door to the cell flew open, practically falling off its hinges and more demons rushed into the room. Azazel held them back with a slight wave of his hand and approached Sam kneeling and bound in the center of the room again because he chose to be. For him… Dean didn't know whether to scream or vomit. He couldn't do either, he was powerless as the demon caught Sam's chin in his hand and leaned close.

"We have a deal then, Sammy." The demon said before crushing his brother's lips with his mouth, and again Dean tried to scream in denial and rage but all that escaped his throat was a pained moan. Azazel released Sam's mouth but didn't release his face. Didn't even turn his eyes away from the younger man as he spoke to the other demons. "Take him away."

Azazel meant him. The power holding him frozen vanished but the other demons grabbed him before he could try to move even an inch closer to his brother. He still couldn't speak. Couldn't beg Sam not to do this. Not that it mattered. It was already done. Even if Sam still retained his soul, it wouldn't matter. Azazel would twist it inside his brother, turn it black until nothing of Sam remained. Nothing…

"Cross me, and he'll die a death so long and painful you'll be begging me to kill him just to release him." Azazel was telling Sam as the demons dragged him out of the room struggling. "Impress me, and I may even let you see your little toy from time to time…"

It was the last he heard as he was dragged out the door before the other screams in the dungeon drowned out the demon's words. It wasn't until he was halfway down the hall before his voice was freed and his own screams of rage drowned out all the others.

We have a deal...…

Sam was startled by the kiss, and even more startled by the new chains he felt binding him to Azazel. But he hadn't given up his soul! How the hell...?

The kiss. The kiss had sealed the deal. He promised to serve and accept training in exchange for Dean remaining untouched. Only now did it occur to him that training probably meant a helluva lot more than just training him in his powers. Dean had been taught to kill. Dean had been taught to show no mercy. Dean had been taught to torture. Dean had been taught fear and obedience. All of that would be part of his training as well.

He hadn't promised loyalty. He hadn't promised obedience. He hadn't promised to lead the demon's armies. If he crossed Azazel...…only if he got caught would Dean pay. He heard, he felt, Dean's fury at the bargain, but what other choice did he have? There wasn't anyone to come rescue them. Maybe his father, his real father, could find a way, but it would take time. If there even was a way to save them. Sam considered this survival. He kept his soul. He would pray for forgiveness every night, pray for strength, pray that he learned of a way to kill the yellow eyed bastard. If it cost him his life, even if it cost Dean his, it would be worth it. He would do everything in his power to make sure that Hell was not the place their souls ended up. He wondered then if serving Azazel meant serving him forever, even after he was dead. Well, he decided grimly, he would trust in God. Azazel didn't own his soul and didn't own Dean's. That would have to be enough. Perhaps he should have had more faith in God, that God would save them but…God helps those who help themselves and frankly, he had never seen a miracle, except maybe for his own ability to heal. God let demons and supernatural beast kill and destroy on a whim. How could he be faulted for believing he would have to find his own way out? Even if he had to take a dark path to find that freedom.

He felt Dean's rage, heard his screams of anger along the chains that bound them to one another. He responded with love and tried to reassure Dean. No, he would never be the same, but whether he served Azazel or not, he never would have been the same after days and weeks and months of torture. The outcome would have been the same. Azazel would have tried to force him to do all the things the demon planned to teach him anyhow. Given enough time, he had little doubt that he would have.

He tried to bite back his scream when he felt the first lash fall across his back. But he couldn't.