Sam grimaced as he sliced his hand, hot blood rushing from the wound he made. He knew he didn't have much time, knew he had to act quickly to banish Lucifer. Without taking his eyes off the angel, Sam reached out to draw the sigil on the wall beside him.

The angel was advancing on Dean, bearing down on him, hand reaching out to kill. Sam's hand, slippery with blood, shook as he struggled to draw the sigil perfectly.

Watching, terrified that any second Lucifer would strike the deadly blow, Sam's eyes widened in shock when the angel froze and shuddered for a moment. Lucifer grabbed his head with both hands as though in pain and groaned.

"Get… Out…" Castiel's gravelly voice growled.

There was a long pause, the angel's body quivering, and then suddenly it was suffused with a light so bright that Sam had to throw his arm up to shield his eyes. Within seconds the light was extinguished and Castiel collapsed onto the floor, unmoving.

"Cas!" Dean shouted and hurried to his friend's side.

Sam, weakened by Lucifer's attack, approached slower, cautiously.

"He's not…"Sam asked, looking at his brother as he put his cheek against the angel's chest.

"He's okay," Dean said, "Alive, at least. Breathing."

Sam relaxed, "He must have used the last of his strength to push Lucifer out."

Dean nodded and then asked, "Are you all right?"

Sam smiled slightly, "I'll survive."

SPN

Dean looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, beside the angel, when the door opened and Sam appeared, holding two mugs of coffee.

"You look like you need this," Sam stepped into the bedroom and held out a mug. Dean took it gratefully and took a sip.

"Has he moved at all?" Sam asked, peering down at the angel lying on his back on the sheets, eyes closed.

Dean shook his head. Sam took drank some of his own coffee, using his uninjured hand to hold the mug.

"How's your hand feeling?" Dean asked, nodding to the bandage tied around his brother's hand.

Sam lifted his hand as though he had forgotten about the cut and shrugged, "It's not too bad."

Dean turned his attention back to Castiel, "I just don't understand why he did it, Sam. Why would he let Lucifer in?"

"He was just trying to help," Sam replied softly.

Dean glanced at Sam, "But after everything he's done to us… to you… I mean, this is Lucifer we're talking about."

Sam took another sip of coffee. He didn't have an answer.

SPN

Lucifer watched the demons as they searched for another weapon that could kill Amara. His blue eyes narrowed as he thought how close he had been to getting the Hand Of God only to have the thing run out of juice after one use. It wasn't a terrible loss but it was frustrating to be back where he started. It also annoyed him that Castiel had managed to evict him; he'd thought they had come to an understanding. But, of course, his brother's bleeding heart had prevented him from smearing the Winchesters all over the Bunker like he'd planned. And then, the biggest surprise of all to have Castiel force him out! Lucifer hadn't thought his brother was strong enough for such a feat. Still, now that he was out of the Cage he didn't really need his brother as a vessel. Going back to his old standby wasn't so bad; it just meant he couldn't get close to the Winchesters without giving himself away.

And, speaking of the Winchesters… Lucifer straightened up in his throne, the demons closest to him eyeing him carefully.

"I think we're missing something," he announced and stood up, stretching.

Simmons quickly looked around, her eyes nervous though her face remained neutral.

"What, my Lord?" she asked.

"My True Vessel," Lucifer smiled at her.

"Your… True Vessel? Sam Winchester?" Simmons asked, confused.

"Exactly, doll face," the Devil smiled wider.

"But, excuse me, my Lord, but you already have a fine vessel," Simmons replied obsequiously.

Lucifer chuckled and reached up to pat the demon's cheek.

"I don't want to use him as a vessel," he told her, "As you've said, my current vessel is very fine."

Simmons and the other demons waited; even Crowley, scrubbing the floor of the throne room with a toothbrush, was listening.

"Back in the Bunker, alone with Sam, well, it brought back all those happy memories of our time together in the Cage," Lucifer told them in a falsely sentimental tone, pausing to wipe an imaginary tear from his eye, "I just miss him, is all."

"What would you have us do?" Simmons asked.

Lucifer smiled, "I want someone to go bring Sam Winchester to me."

The demons all looked to one another, not sure if they wanted to volunteer for the task or not.

"I would be greatly indebted to whomever is brave enough to get him," Lucifer wheedled.

A couple of demons- an older woman with steel-grey hair and a severe expression- and a younger man with a clean-shaven head raised their hands.

"We'll do it, Sire," the female demon told him.

"Excellent…" Lucifer grinned.

"Jenkins," the woman replied, "Jenkins and Peters."

"Right," Lucifer nodded distractedly, "Go and fetch Sam Winchester and bring him to me."

The demons nodded and began heading towards the door to the throne room.

"Oh, one minute," Lucifer called out to them. They paused, looking back.

"Try and bring him back in one piece, if you don't mind."

The demons nodded and left the throne room.

SPN

Sam woke before dawn, as he usually did and dressed quietly. Picking out a pair of grey sweat pants and a navy blue t-shirt, he fished his running shoes out from underneath his bed. Whenever he had the chance he would go for a run; it helped clear his head and gave him time to think. Dean might turn his nose up at the idea of running when nothing was chasing him, but Sam enjoyed the two hours he spent alone with his thoughts and the sunrise.

Making his way down the hall on silent feet, Sam paused and peered into the bedroom he and Dean had laid Cas. Dean was still there, sitting in a chair he'd brought from the main room of the Bunker, his back to Sam. Sam looked at his brother's form for a long moment, wanting to say something but not sure what, he turned and headed through the Bunker and outside.

A cool breeze struck Sam in the face as soon as he closed the door to the Bunker, bringing with it the scent of pine trees. Sam took a deep breath, jogged across the gravel parking lot of the Bunker, past the Impala, and onto the shoulder of the road where he picked up speed, the chirping of birds filling his ears.

SPN

Dean reached down and loosened Castiel's tie. He wasn't sure why he did so, the angel remained asleep- or unconscious- but he wanted his friend to be comfortable.

Dean wanted nothing more than for Cas to wake up. He wanted nothing more than to see his friend's gentle blue eyes, to hear his gravelly voice and know that it really was Cas, and not some imposter.

Sighing, Dean leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face with his hands. He was exhausted but refused to sleep or leave the angel's side until he knew he was all right. If Cas would just move- even so much as a twitch- then he'd be able to relax. But so far, Cas remained as still and silent as though he were in a coma. The only indication he was still alive was the steady, shallow rise and fall of his chest- a habit the angel had picked up from his vessel, Jimmy- and the warmth of his skin whenever Dean touched his friend's hand.

Dean heard quiet footsteps coming down the hall and knew it must be morning, still early though, as Sam approached. He didn't react when he heard his brother's footsteps pause; he didn't feel like talking to Sam- there wasn't anything to say- and eventually his brother moved along, heading out for his morning run.

SPN

Sam slowed his run down to a jog, breathing deeply but not out of breath. He had been out for just over and hour and decided he should head back to the Bunker, check how Dean was, see if Cas had woken up yet. Pausing, Sam wiped a forearm across his brow and turned.

A woman, wearing a slate grey suit, black tie and white blouse stood directly in front of him. Startled, Sam took a step back only to collide with another body. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a man who looked to be twenty or so, with a clean-shaven head.

"Who are you?" Sam asked, unsure if he was in the company of angels or demons but knowing either way, he was in danger.

"Sam Winchester," the woman said in a stern tone, "Our Lord has ordered us to come collect you."

If Sam had any doubts about the origins of these two, they were quickly done away with when the woman's eyes turned completely black.

Sam swore inwardly, wishing he had been more prudent to bring along a weapon. Still, if the demons thought he was go quietly, they had another thing coming.

Before the woman could speak again, Sam shoved his elbow backwards into the man's solar plexus- a blow that would rendered any human attacker immobile- and punched with his other hand, his fist connecting with the woman's face.

The demons, stunned for seconds, quickly recovered and grabbed at the hunter. The male demon snatched at the back of Sam's t-shirt and the female caught hold of the hunter's head, fingers knotted in his hair. The woman tightened her grip on Sam's hair, drew her leg up and slammed his face against her knee- once, twice, three times- before releasing the hunter.

Sam raised his head, his eyes blackened, his nose broken and bleeding, his lower lip split. He blinked slowly, painfully, his gaze sliding out of focus.

"Let's get back before he regains his senses," Peters commented, still holding onto Sam's shirt.

Jenkins nodded and took hold of one of Sam's arms, motioning to the male demon to do the same.

Seconds later, the trio had vanished, leaving the roadside as silent and still as if they had never been there.

SPN

Crowley looked up when the doors to the throne room opened and Peters and Jenkins strode in, marching Sam Winchester in between them, smug looks on their faces.

They approached Lucifer where he was seated and stopped. The Devil said nothing but rose an eyebrow at the sight of Sam's bruised and bloodied face.

"He fought back," Peters explained.

Lucifer sat up and leaned forward, snapping his fingers in front of the human's face. Sam's eyes remained glazed, unfocused.

"How hard did you hit him?" Lucifer asked.

Jenkins frowned, her expression nervous.

"My Lord, we needed to subdue him," she said.

Crowley watched Sam; he swayed ever so slightly where he stood and he looked as though he had no comprehension of where he was. The hunter was probably a bit more than stunned.

"Of course you did," Lucifer assured her and motioned to the two demons to back away.

Once Sam was standing on his own, the Devil waved a hand and the young man's injuries healed. Crowley saw the dullness leave his eyes and his gaze sharpen. Sam took a step backwards, nearly falling down the steps that led up to the throne in his haste to get away from Lucifer.

"I know why I'm here," he growled, "And the answer is 'no'."

Lucifer smiled, "You've got me all wrong, Sam. I don't want to use you as a vessel. That ship has long since sailed."

Sam eyed the Devil warily, "Than what do you want with me?"

Crowley knew the human was trying to be brave, to not show fear, but he heard the tremble in the hunter's voice when he spoke.

"Ruling over demons is all well and good," Lucifer swept a hand to indicate his subjects gathered in the room, "But they're all quite one-dimensional, if you ask me. All I hear all day is 'Yes, my Lord' or 'No, my Lord' and to tell you the truth, it gets rather tiresome."

Sam glanced around the room, catching sight of Crowley, and then quickly looked back at Lucifer.

"You're much more interesting than even my doggy over there," Lucifer pointed at the onetime King of Demons, but Sam did not look at Crowley again.

"I thought you just wanted to kill me," Sam said.

"Oh, I still do," the Devil grinned, "But who says we can't have a little fun before I do?"

Sam shivered, surely imagining what Lucifer's idea of fun, to be.

"You can't keep me here," Sam told him.

"You think so?" Lucifer motioned with a hand and an invisible force dragged the hunter forward so that he inches away from the fallen angel, eye-to-eye.

"Dean and Cas will find me," Sam told him through gritted teeth.

"If… and that's a big if, they are so idiotic as to show their faces down here, I will kill them and make you watch," Lucifer told Sam, his breath chilly against the young man's face.

"You can't do this," Sam argued, tears pricking his eyes.

"You want to leave? Sure, I can't force you to stay," the Devil smirked, and waved a hand.

Sam was thrown across the room, slamming against the doors with a sickening crack of breaking bone. He hung, suspended against the doors for a moment, his feet dangling in the air, before he crashed to the floor. Sam cried out in pain as he landed on the floor, his legs collapsing underneath him, useless.

The doors to the throne room opened.

"All right Sam, now's your chance," Lucifer told him, "If you can get up and walk out right now, I'll let you go."

Sam, struggling not to cry, didn't move, couldn't move. He couldn't feel his legs, there was no way he could stand up and he was not going to give Lucifer the satisfaction of watching him crawl.

The angel waited a moment before the doors shut again.

"That's what I thought," he told Sam.

He motioned to a couple of demons, "You two, show our guest where he'll be staying, if you don't mind."

The two demons approached Sam and hauled him up, the feeling in the man's legs suddenly returning, and marched him out of the throne room and down a hallway lined with cells. The demons shoved Sam into one of these cells and slammed the door. The cell was not very big; it was made entirely of stone, not even a window, with walls on three sides and metal bars on the fourth side, facing the hallway. There also was no furniture in the cell; it was completely empty. Sam moved to the far side of the cell and leaned his back against the wall, struggling to keep his breathing even, afraid he was going to start having a panic attack. He closed his eyes and slid down the wall into a crouch, telling himself that what was happening wasn't real, that it was just a horrible nightmare and he'd wake up any second.

SPN

Dean looked at the clock on the oven while he poured himself some coffee from the pot. Sam should have been back at least a half-an-hour ago. Not that Dean was too concerned; sometimes his brother's morning runs were longer than he expected, but, with Cas out of commission, he would have liked to have his brother close by.

Taking a sip of his coffee, Dean turned and headed back into the bedroom where Cas was. Settling down on the chair, he prepared himself to keep vigil over his friend.

"C'mon Cas," Dean murmured, "You're stronger than this. You've got to wake up."

The angel remained still and silent.

"I… We… Sam and me, we need your help," Dean continued, "I'm not even mad at you. I get why you did it. Just… please, man, open your eyes."

Still, Castiel did not respond. Dean sighed and took a sip of his coffee.

SPN

Lucifer walked past a group of demons as they flipped through a tome the size of a sidewalk stone.

"Have you found anything yet?" he asked, hands clasped behind his back.

One demon looked up, his expression apologetic, "We are trying, my Lord."

Lucifer frowned, "I don't want excuses, I want results."

Turning around, Lucifer strolled up to Crowley.

"And what do you think of the new addition to my court? You've been rather quiet on the subject," he peered down at the demon.

"C'mon," Lucifer nudged Crowley with the toe of his shoe, "Speak up, I can't hear you."

Crowley squeezed his eyes closed for a moment before replying, "Your choice is very wise, Master."

Lucifer grinned, "I knew you'd agree. It must be refreshing to see the great and good Sam Winchester taken down a peg, eh? Too bad you weren't the one to do it."

"Yes, Master," Crowley muttered. Lucifer was right- as long as the Devil was preoccupied with torturing Sam; it meant his attention was off of Crowley for a change.

SPN

Dean drained the coffee pot and frowned at the clock on the oven. Sam was late. He should have been back long ago. Wondering what the hold up was, Dean pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed his brother's number. For a moment there was nothing but silence and then Sam's ring tone trilled from deeper in the Bunker.

Dean, his ear pressed to his phone, followed the sound to his brother's bedroom, wondering if Sam had somehow managed to slip inside without telling him. Shoving the door open, Dean expected to see his brother lounging on his bed, reading some book or another. The room was empty, the bed neatly made, mitered corners and all, the cell phone trilling and vibrating on the nightstand.

Dean ended the call and swore. Shoving his phone into his pocket, he started down the hallway, only to stop short when he heard a groan from Castiel's room.

Peering into the room, wide-eyed, Dean saw his friend open his eyes and blink up at the ceiling for a moment.

"Cas!" Dean hurried inside, going straight to the angel's bedside, "You're okay! You're awake!"

"Dean," Cas muttered, frowned.

The hunter reached out and helped his friend sit up.

"How long was I out?" Cas asked, looking around the room.

"All night," Dean told him, "And most of the day. How're you feeling?"

Cas lifted his hands, watching them tremble, "Still weak."

"I'm sure that'll pass," Dean assured him.

Castiel turned his blue eyes on Dean, "You're all right. Is Sam well?"

Dean nodded, "Sam's fine but…"

Cas looked at him concernedly, "Yes?"

"He's went out for a jog this morning and hasn't come back yet," Dean told him, startled when the colour drained from the angel's face.

"Cas! What's wrong? Are you okay?" Dean asked, fear in his voice.

"I… I think I may know where Sam is," Cas told him.

"Where? Cas, what's wrong? Is Sam in trouble?"

Castiel looked away from Dean for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

"When Lucifer was about to kill Sam," Castiel said slowly, "When you were still gone, my brother thought… he remembered what he'd done to Sam in the Cage and he was… excited by it."

Dean frowned, "What are you saying, Cas?"

The angel turned his blue eyes back to Dean, "I fear that Lucifer may have your brother."

Dean felt as though the ground had dropped out from underneath him.

"No," he whispered, "No, that can't be right."

Castiel just looked at him, eyes soft.

"We have to rescue him," Dean said, standing up, "I have to get Sam back."

"Dean," Cas reached out, "Listen-"

"What?" the hunter turned to the angel.

"I'm not strong enough," Cas told him, "I cannot take you to Hell."

"Then I'll go myself," Dean argued.

"You would not stand a chance," Castiel said, "Not against Lucifer and all the demons of Hell."

"I have to try!" Dean exclaimed, "Besides, it wouldn't be my first time in Hell."

"Dean," Castiel said quietly, "maybe we should…"

"What Cas? What?"

The angel turned away, "We have bigger problems right now. Amara-"

"Don't," Dean growled, interrupting the angel, "Don't even say it. I am not leaving Sam with Lucifer."

Castiel said nothing.

Dean stared at his friend; unable to comprehend what Castiel was thinking. Sure, he and Cas might have a special connection but had thought that over the years, the angel had grown to care about his brother just as much as he did. Maybe he was wrong.

As though reading his thoughts, Castiel spoke again, "I want to rescue Sam as much as you do, Dean. But right now it would be suicide to travel into Hell, guns blazing."

Dean's jaw tightened, he hated to admit it but Cas was right.

"Just as you have been in Hell before," Cas added, "So has Sam. And, as long as he continues to entertain Lucifer, the longer he lives. We will rescue him, Dean, just… we need to wait."

Dean turned away from Castiel, hating him in that moment. Dean hadn't forgotten how Hell worked, even after all these years the memories were still fresh in his mind but he wasn't the one being tortured by a creature with a vendetta against him.

SPN

Crowley tore his gaze away from Sam Winchester, writhing in agony on the floor of the throne room while the other demons and Lucifer looked on, when a couple of demons burst through the doors, excitedly carrying between them a collection of weapons from the Armory.

Lucifer waved a hand and Sam stilled, gasping in ragged breathes, one cheek pressed against the cold stone floor.

The Devil stood, stepping down from his throne and over Sam as though he were a piece of furniture.

"Is this everything?" he asked the demons.

"Yes, my Lord," one of the demons answered.

"Does it please you, my Lord?" the other demon asked.

Lucifer reached out and took hold of a long wooden staff, weighing it in his hand.

Crowley quickly looked to Sam who was struggling onto his knees, hair plastered to his brow with sweat. He had an unusual urge to warn the human he should move away from Lucifer but he held his tongue. If the Devil was torturing Sam, he left Crowley alone.

Lucifer moved his hands to hold the staff like a baseball bat, and, twisting at the waist, smashed the hunter in the face with it.

The force of the blow sent Sam falling over backwards, hands covering his wounded face, a strangled cry of pain tearing itself from the hunter's lips.

Crowley cringed and looked away from the young man as the other demons laughed.

"It does please me," Lucifer smiled and put the staff back.

SPN

Dean couldn't stand it. He thought he could, by telling himself that Sam was strong, that Sam had been through this sort of thing before, and that he'd be all right but, the more he thought about it, the more he hated it.

Standing, up from the table in the main room of the Bunker so suddenly it surprised even Cas, who had joined him, he strode across the room.

"Dean, what are you doing?" the angel asked, slowly standing up, bracing himself with his hands on the table.

"If we can't go get Sam," Dean told him, "Maybe we can make someone else do it for us."

"What are you thinking?" Cas asked but Dean ignored him, intent on gathering what he needed.

W

Dean gripped the angel blade tightly in his fist as he waited at the crossroads for a demon to appear. He wasn't sure this would work, wasn't sure anyone would show up but he had to try.

The minutes ticked by and Dean almost lost confidence that anyone was going to answer his summons when a demon suddenly appeared in the center of the crossroad.

The demon was a man, with greasy wisps of black hair crossing his scalp, a narrow, ratlike face and red eyes.

"And what can I do for you, Dean Winchester? Not looking to sell your soul again, are you?" the demon grinned, showing crooked, yellow teeth.

"You're going to bring my brother to me," Dean told the demon.

The man laughed, "And why would I do that?"

"If you don't, I'll kill you," Dean threatened.

The demon didn't look very intimidated.

"I don't think so," he told Dean, "We're all having too much fun watching his Majesty torture your brother."

Dean's jaw tightened and so did his grip on the angel blade.

"You should hear it," the demon continued, smiling maliciously, "When Lucifer makes your brother cry and beg. Like music to your ears."

"Fuck you," Dean snarled, "You're lying."

The demon raised an eyebrow.

"Why would I lie about something so delightful?" the demon continued, "It's such a pleasure to see Sam Winchester whimpering and mewling after all the demons he's killed. He's finally getting what he deserves."

Dean, unable to control his anger, lunged at the demon, prepared to stab the bastard only to find himself stumbling across the road, utterly alone. The demon had vanished.

"Son of a bitch!"

SPN

Sam curled into a protective ball, breathing raggedly, eyes squeezed shut, the laughter of the assembled demons ringing in his ears.

"Please…" Sam whispered, "Please… stop…"

Suddenly an invisible force gripped the hunter, drawing him towards the throne where Lucifer sat. Sam scrabbled against the floor futilely, clawing at the stones with his fingernails.

Sam soon found himself face-to-face with Lucifer, the Devil peering down at him with a superior look.

"Oh Sammy," he drawled, and reached out to brush Sam's bangs out of his face. The young man shuddered at the Devil's touch.

"You're mine," Lucifer whispered, his mouth nearly touching Sam's ear, "Made for me. My vessel. I'll do whatever I like to you, whenever I like, for as long as I like."

The Devil pulled back, watching tears fill Sam's eyes.

SPN

Dean flipped through the pages of a large tome he had found in the Bunker's library on different summoning spells. Maybe, if he couldn't force a demon to bring his brother back, he could find a spell that would bring Sammy back to him.

Castiel watched Dean in silence.

He had given up trying to get his friend to see reason. He knew how much Dean cared for his brother, how he hated the thought of him being tortured but Sam really was only a single human when the entire universe itself was under threat of Amara at the moment. If they didn't destroy the Darkness there would be no Hell to rescue Sam from, no Sam to rescue, nothing. He felt bad about Sam's situation, he truly did, but there wasn't anything they could do about it at the present time.

"Dean," Cas said and the hunter looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Would you like some more coffee?" he asked, instead of saying what he wanted to.

"That'd be great, Cas, thanks," Dean told him, "You sure you can do it?"

The angel stood, slowly, "I'm fine. I am regaining my strength a little bit everyday."

SPN

Crowley couldn't watch Sam anymore. Keeping his head down, the demon might not be able to watch but he could still hear: bones cracking, blood spattering, the crying and screaming and begging; he could still smell burning flesh as it filled the throne room.

Crowley told himself he was going soft, that he shouldn't care about Sam Winchester or what happened to him. He thought he should be happy to see the hunter dragged into the room, because that meant Lucifer would leave him alone. But still… he also remembered that Sam had done nothing to earn this torment, his only crime being born as the Devil's vessel, something he had no control over, where Crowley understood Lucifer's anger towards him. He had had the audacity to sit on the throne and declare himself King of Hell.

Crowley winced as Sam whimpered and he looked up, unable to help himself.

The young man was on his knees in front of the throne, blood running from the corners of his mouth. Crowley watched as Sam bowed his head, so as not to choke on his own blood and opened his mouth, a pink chunk of flesh landing with a splat on the stone floor. Sam raised a hand to his mouth; a wordless cry escaping him and Crowley realized with a jolt that Lucifer had cut out the young man's tongue.

SPN

Castiel moved down the corridor carefully, one hand against the wall. He followed the shine of light coming from the main room of the Bunker and found Dean, sitting up, not reading, just staring into the abyss, bottle of beer untouched in front of him.

"Dean," Cas said, startling the man, "It's late. Why don't you go to sleep?"

Without even looking at him, Dean spoke, "I can't. I keep having nightmares about Sam."

"Do you…" Cas hesitated, "Do you wish to talk about them?"

Dean shook his head.

"Why don't you get some rest, Cas? You need your strength."

For a long time the angel remained where he was, standing in the doorway, but when his friend didn't speak again, he turned and left.

SPN

Sometimes Lucifer would heal Sam's wounds before sending him back to his cell, other times he wouldn't, prolonging the hunter's misery even when not in his presence. Crowley watched as, slowly, starved and beaten and humiliated, Sam Winchester lost his will to fight.

He no longer struggled when the demons dragged him into the throne room, barely lifting his feet to walk, head down.

Crowley worried that if Sam lost his defiance, Lucifer might grow bored and kill him, returning his attention back to the demon. But then, Lucifer was creative, and he always had a way of getting Sam to react the way he wanted.

Crowley watched as Lucifer, leaning forward in the throne towards where Sam stood, lifted a hand, fingers curled into claws and raked his hand through the air. Five lines of blood blossomed against the chest of Sam's t-shirt, the human, crying out in pain. Lucifer smiled and raked his hand through the air again, causing another five lines to appear across Sam's lower abdomen. Then, finally, Lucifer raised his hand higher and sliced through the air, wounds opened up across Sam's face, blinding him in one eye. The demons holding Sam released him, laughing, and stepped back. Sam clutched his hands to his face, doubling over, as blood seeped between his fingers. The hunter sank to his knees, a pool of blood forming around him and Crowley frowned, knowing Lucifer would force him to clean it up later.

The Devil waved a hand lazily and Sam's wounds healed. The young man pulled his hands away from his face, blinking at the lack of blood.

Lucifer stood up and approached Sam slowly. Crowley leaned forwards ever so slightly, his chains clanking but no one seemed to notice, as he watched what was about to happen.

Sam glanced up and saw a lecherous look in the Devil's eye. He began backing up, even though he had nowhere to go.

"No," Sam begged, "Please… not that… not that… please…"

The demons formed a tight circle around Lucifer and the young man so that Crowley couldn't see what was happening but for once he was glad he couldn't. He lifted his hands to press his palms against his ears, trying to block out the sound but it was no use. He felt sick to his stomach as he listened to the young man's torture go on and on.

SPN

Dean woke with a start, calling his brother's name as he opened his eyes. Glancing around the room, he sighed and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He hadn't meant to fall asleep but he was so tired, his eyes burning with fatigue as he struggled to read the words blurring on the pages of the tome.

"Damn it," he growled. Pushing away from the table, he stood and, picking up his empty coffee cup, stalked to the kitchen for more.

Only three days had passed since Sam had been abducted while on his morning jog but to Dean it felt much, much longer. He felt as though the harder he tried to find some way of rescuing Sam, the further away from his goal he got.

Maybe you should just forget about Sam and focus your attention on Amara, a cruel voice in his head suggested and Dean slammed the coffee pot down on the counter, sloshing the liquid over the rim.

There was no way he was going to forget about his brother. He didn't care if the world was in imminent danger of booing consumed by the Darkness. If everything was going to be destroyed anyway, Dean wasn't going to let his brother die alone. Or, in the company of enemies.

Returning to the main room of the Bunker, Dean sat back down in front of the tome, telling himself that he was not going to stop until he found a way to save his brother.

SPN

Sam lay unmoving on the floor of the throne room, hair obscuring his face, where the demons had dropped him. Lucifer, frowning, stood up and walked over to the young man, crouching before him.

"Don't tell me your done," he told the hunter, "I was just starting to really enjoy you."

Sam closed his eyes tiredly.

Lucifer reached down and pulled Sam's head up by his hair. Sam opened his eyes, gazing fearfully at his tormentor.

The Devil smiled mockingly, "Do you need a break?"

Sam's gaze slid away from Lucifer.

"Why didn't you say so!" the fallen angel cawed.

He released his hold on Sam and the young man collapsed.

"Boys, take Sam back to his cell," Lucifer told a couple of demons, "He needs a rest."

As the two demons obliged, Lucifer returned to his throne, "That's the trick you see. You don't go torturing a soul continually or else they get too used to the pain. It's best to wait between sessions for maximum effect."

The remaining demons nodded as though Lucifer was bestowing upon them a great wisdom.

SPN

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked Cas as the angel joined him at the table.

"Fine," the angel commented.

"Gained your strength back yet?" Dean asked, looking at him pointedly.

Castiel knew what Dean wanted. He was waiting to hear that, yes, he was at full power so he could slip into Hell and rescue Sam, as he had rescued Dean all those years ago.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel apologized and Dean cut eyes at him.

"Have you found a summoning spell?" Cas asked, trying to distract the hunter.

"No," Dean growled, "There's nothing in this shitty book!"

Castiel wasn't surprised Dean couldn't find a summoning spell for a human. Humans were not supernatural creatures and therefore could not be summoned like a demon or an angel. But he did not tell Dean that.

"When was the last time you ate?" Cas asked.

"I had something this morning," Dean answered, his attention back on the tome.

"It's grown late," Cas commented, "You should eat something."

"I'm not hungry," Dean told him.

"But-" Castiel tried again.

"I said I'm not hungry!" Dean snapped, glaring at the angel.

"You want to help me? You'd be helping me look for a way to get to Sam!"

Castiel didn't respond but remained sitting where he was.

SPN

Sam whimpered in pain and rolled over onto his side on the floor of his cell, trying to find a position that wasn't as painful so he could maybe get a little sleep. He shivered at the cold seeping through his t-shirt, winced as the sharp edges of stone dug into him. He watched, fascinated, as a large cockroach skittered across the floor of his cell and slipped into a crack in the wall between two stones. There was no way he would be able to get even a minute's sleep.

SPN

A week- an entire week- had passed since Sam was abducted and Dean still had no idea how to get to his brother. He had long ago abandoned the tome on summoning; finding it useless and Dean was starting to lose hope. Sitting at the table, he put his head in his hands, struggling to keep his emotions from overwhelming him.

"I'm sorry Sammy," Dean muttered into his palms, "I'm trying to get to you, I'm trying."

He knew there was no way his brother could hear him but speaking out loud to Sam helped somewhat.

He knew Cas just wanted him to deal with Amara but he couldn't focus on the bitch when his brother was being tortured. He was not, could not just forget about his sibling. They could keep searching for ways to get rid of the Darkness once Sam was once again safe in the Bunker. But until then, Dean put all thoughts of Amara aside, his mind on one single concern.

SPN

Sam gasped for breath, on his hands and knees, one hand pressed against his stomach, struggling to hold the large gash closed. Sam groaned in pain as a demon kicked at him and his insides shifted, gravity threatening to spill his guts all over the floor.

Laughter rang out above Sam and a shoe connected with his side, making him cry out in pain, a loop of intestines slipping free.

"No," Sam moaned and someone kicked him in the side of the head.

Crowley watched, silent, as his fellow demons tormented the hunter, Lucifer watching from his throne like a Roman emperor observing a group of lions tear apart Christians. He half expected the Devil to give the demons thumbs up or down.

Sam coughed, spitting out a clot of blood and groaned. Closing his eyes against the onslaught, his arms shook. He couldn't hold himself up for much longer, Crowley saw, and once again felt something akin to pity for the young man.

Movement from Lucifer caught the demon's attention and Crowley watched as the fallen angel approached the young man. The demons obediently moved out of the way for Lucifer and Crowley watched as he reached down and grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair, forcing him up.

"Please," Sam whimpered. Crowley didn't know if the young man was begging Lucifer to end his pain or to not hurt him.

Lucifer smiled and, reaching down with his free hand, dug his fingers into the open wound. Sam gasped in agony, his eyes going dull. Lucifer yanked a coil of intestines out; slippery with blood, and let them fall onto the floor.

The watching demons cheered and clapped. Crowley swallowed thickly and then chastised himself for being so squeamish. Still, he found himself looking away when Lucifer released Sam, letting the young man collapse to the floor, blood and viscera leaking from the gaping wound in the young man's abdomen.

SPN

It took Crowley a moment to get over the shock of seeing Simmons, of understanding that she meant to help him. For a brief second, he wondered if this was some kind of test, some kind of trick Lucifer had thought up, but then he decided he'd rather take the risk. Besides, Simmons had always been loyal to him and her assurances cemented that idea.

Crowley easily took care of the two demons who tried to stop them at the doors to the throne room, seeming to impress Simmons with his resilience.

"We have to hurry," Simmons told him, "There's probably more."

"Where is Lucifer?" Crowley asked. He might be able to defend himself against some puny demons but the archangel was another matter.

"Last time I saw him he was leaving Sam Winchester's cell," Simmons told him.

Crowley's gaze travelled down the hallway lined with cells.

"Don't tell me you care about him?" Simmons asked, following Crowley's gaze.

"I don't," he growled, "But I do care about being on the wrong side of Dean Winchester if he finds out I left his moose behind."

Simmons gave him a look that said 'you can't be serious'. Crowley wasn't sure himself, what he was thinking but he turned in the direction of the cells.

"C'mon," he told Simmons, "Help me out here, would you?"

Hurrying down the hallway, they stopped in front of the cell where Sam Winchester lay, beaten and bloodied.

"This is insane," Simmons hissed, "He'll only slow us down."

Crowley ignored her and unlocked the door to the cell, sliding it aside with a grating sound that set his teeth on edge.

Stepping inside, he approached the young man and, bending down, grabbed him under the armpit.

"Help me," Crowley ordered and Simmons obeyed, heaving Sam up.

The hunter, his chin against his chest, was clearly in no condition to walk on his own. Crowley draped Sam's arm across his shoulders, grimacing in pain from his own wounds and started out of the cell.

"We're not bringing him right to his brother are we?" Simmons whispered, "He'll be sure to kill us if he sees his brother like this."

"I'm not that much of a Good Samaritan," Crowley assured her.

As quickly as possible, the two demons hurried down the hall, hoping that their absence wouldn't be discovered until it was too late.

W

Crowley and Simmons stood in the middle of the road, Sam supported between them. This was as close as they dared to get to the Bunker.

"Okay Moose," Crowley said, "Your brother's just down there."

He pointed down the road, the Bunker just visible.

Sam lifted his head slightly, to indicate that he was listening.

"Dean?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Crowley said and lowered Sam's arm from his shoulder, "He's waiting for you."

Sam swayed dangerously but somehow managed to stay on his feet. With a nod from Crowley, Simmons backed away from the hunter. Sam stepped forward, staggering slightly, but at least he remained on his feet. Crowley reached out and gave him a little shove in the right direction before he and Simmons vanished, leaving Sam to find his way to the Bunker on his own.

SPN

Dean needed some fresh air. He hadn't been outside for a week and he was starting to feel claustrophobic. Besides, maybe some air would help him think of some way they could rescue Sam that would satisfy both him and Castiel.

Filling his mug up with fresh coffee, Dean passed Cas on his way to the staircase. The angel looked after him.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Dean assured him.

He saw that it was early morning- not unlike the very one when Sam had been taken- and stepped out onto the gravel of the parking lot, closing the door softly behind him. Leaning against the wall, Dean took a sip of coffee.

For a few minutes he allowed himself to relax, somewhat, listening to the wind through the trees, the whistle of birds and the chirping of crickets, his eyes closed.

It took a second for Dean to make another sound, footsteps, but not steady, hesitant and slow, coming closer.

Opening his eyes, the hunter turned his head in the direction of the footfalls, wary. He caught sight of a lone figure staggering drunkenly down the road.

"What the hell?" Dean frowned and pushed himself away from the wall, wondering if the person needed help.

As the figure wandered closer, Dean made out the unmistakable silhouette of his brother. Dean let the mug of coffee slip from his fingers and smash on the gravel before he rushed forward.

"Sam!" he called as he ran towards his sibling, "SAM!"

His brother staggered into him, and Dean had to grab him under the arms to keep him from collapsing.

"D'n," Sam muttered, lifting his head to peer at Dean's face.

"Sammy," Dean choked out, hardly able to believe that his brother was actually there, in his arms.

Dean looked around, unsure if they were safe outside but decided he didn't want to find out and carefully steered his brother towards the door to the Bunker, Sam leaning heavily against him.

Dean carefully opened the door and began guiding his sibling down the steps. Castiel, who had remained sitting at the table where Dean had left him, looked wide-eyed at the two brothers and stood.

"Sit down," Dean snapped, but then, in a softer tone added, "I've got him, Cas."

"How…" the angel asked, and watched as Dean helped Sam sit down in one of the chairs.

"He was just there," Dean explained, "Walking down the road. I don't know."

Dean put his hands gently on his sibling's shoulders, wondering if Sam had managed to escape Lucifer's clutches on his own.

Dean peered into his brother's face: pale and drawn beneath the grime and bloodstains, his eyes hollow, with dark circles around them.

"Sammy," Dean reached up and put a hand to the back of his brother's head, hair matted with blood and sweat and dirt and other things he didn't want to think about.

Sam leaned forward until his brow was resting against Dean's chest. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat and looked at Cas.

"He's injured," the angel pointed out, looking at the back of Sam's t-shirt.

Dean reached out one hand and lifted his brother's shirt, revealing a series of fresh gashes along his sibling's back.

"Oh Sammy," Dean whispered. Sam whimpered and nuzzled his face against Dean's chest.

"Can you help me get him to the bathroom?" Dean asked Cas, "We need to clean those."

The angel nodded and together they helped Sam stand and slowly make their way to the bathroom down the hall.

Dean had Sam sit on the closed lid of the toilet seat as he opened the First Aid kit. He carefully helped Sam out of his t-shirt, grimacing at the gashes crisscrossing his brother's chest and abdomen as well.

"This will sting a bit," Dean warned his brother as he began cleaning the wounds with peroxide.

Sam whimpered but Dean murmured comfortingly to him.

Castiel stood back, against the door, watching in silence.

Once Sam's wounds were cleaned and bandaged, Dean grabbed a washcloth and wiped Sam's face. Sam closed his eyes and Dean smiled.

"Cas, can you get Sam some clean clothes?" Dean asked and the angel nodded, leaving the room.

Dean helped his brother stand up so he could help him out of the rest of his clothes. Sam was missing one of his running shoes, the sock on his foot practically black with stains. Dean's heart leapt into his throat when he saw the back of Sam's grey sweat pants were the rust colour of dried blood, and pulling them down, so were his boxers.

The door to the bathroom opened and Cas stepped inside, holding a pile of folded clothes. He looked at Sam, his brow furrowing.

"Dean, are you all right?" he asked, tearing his gaze away from the youngest Winchester, who, thankfully still seemed dazed.

Dean nodded and looked at the angel.

Swallowing, Dean nodded, "Yeah."

Forcing himself not to think about what had happened to his brother, Dean helped Sam dress in clean clothes.

"I'm going to get him to bed and make him some soup or something for later," Dean told Cas as he led his sibling from the bathroom, Sam holding Dean's hand like he used to when he was little.

"If you need help with anything…" Cas said and Dean nodded, "I'll let you know."

W

Dean gently tucked the blanket around his brother and watched as Sam's eyes slid closed.

He remained where he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, unwilling to leave his brother's side so soon.

He wanted to know exactly how Sam had escaped from Hell but he knew he had to wait, his brother was in no condition to talk right now. What Sam needed was sleep and food and, maybe later, he would feel up to telling Dean how he'd managed to show up at the Bunker.

Dean brushed Sam's hair away from his forehead and leaned down to kiss his forehead, something he hadn't done since they were kids.

"I'm so glad you're back," Dean said through the lump in his throat, "I missed you, Sammy."

Author's Note:

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