When I Don't Have You Around

Dean's POV

     "Dean Winchester," the demon crowed. "I must say, I was not expecting the pleasure."

She slid the knife across his cheek, adding the gash it made to the multiple lacerations she had already given him across every inch of bare skin she could find. The demon bitch —Dean didn't even know her name—and her lackeys had caught him excorcizing a house maid who had butchered her masters with a steak knife. Just as the thing had been sent to hell, seven more demons had entered the room, guns blazing and black eyes glistening. He had tried to fight, but he was no match for all seven. They had beaten him senseless and dragged him to some godforsaken warehouse somewhere outside of northeast Arizona. There they ripped off his shirt and strung him up by his wrists, torturing him mercilessly, laughing as they sliced and carved his body to ribbons. Then they would splash rubbing alcohol on him, just to hear him scream.

Dean coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. "Is that all you got, bitch?" He asked. He gave the demons his signature bitchface smile, but it was weak and he ended up coughing again, spitting out more blood.

The demon grinned wickedly. "Oh trust me sweetheart," she said, grabbing his throat and bringing his face up to hers. "It gets so, so much worse." She glanced behind her at the other six demons, who all happened to be big strong guys with tree trunk arms. "You guys want some?" She asked, inviting them to step forward.

"Oh yes," the biggest one said, cracking his knuckles as he got up in Dean's face. "You killed my brother, you know that?"

"Oh yeah?" Dean said, wheezing. "Well if he was as ugly as you, I can see why."

The demon punched him so hard his head spun and he couldn't see straight. He groaned, squinting against the pain. The demon punched him again and again and again, each blow sending Dean further and further into darkness. Dean wasn't aware that the demon had stopped until the girl slapped him hard on the gash on his cheek, forcing him back to wakefulness.

"Now, now," she crooned. "We can't have you nodding off and spoiling the fun, can we?"

Dean's head lolled, and through the haze of pain he thought about Sam. Where was Sam? He was gone. He didn't want to hunt with Dean anymore. What was that fight about again? He didn't even remember, though remembered the harsh words that were said clearly enough.

Well Sammy, he thought sluggishly. Guess you were right. I really couldn't last a week without you.

He gasped as another demon kneed him in the chest, cracking his ribs and crushing the breath out of him. He coughed weakly, more blood dripping from his lips. He looked up and saw that the demons had formed a line, all waiting their turn to show him just how much they hated him. What happened next was a blur of mind-numbing pain, fading in and out of consciousness, and blood, so much blood.

Finally the girl held up her hand.

"Almost boys," she promised, giving the angry demons a smug look. "Just one more thing before we kill him." She traced Dean's jaw with her finger. "We want to do the civil thing here, Dean. And since we are so polite, we are giving you one last request. Within our limitations of course."

"A request?" Dean mumbled. "How about your head on a stake."

"Hmm, see, that's something I can't do," the demon said, tapping her cheek in mock sympathy. "How about we do this." She pulled out Dean's cell phone. "I'm gonna give you one last call to your brother, 'kay?"

Dean put as much hatred as he could muster into the death stare he gave her.

The demon giggled. "As I understand it, you two had a falling out recently, am I right?" When Dean looked away, she smiled. "We wouldn't want you to die without resolving your problems with dear little Sammy, now would we?"

"You son of a bitch," Dean growled shakily. "I'll—"

"Kill me?" The demon taunted as she dialed Sam's number. "Good luck with that, sweetie."

She put the phone next to Dean's ear. Dean tried to gather his thoughts, but he couldn't because his head hurt too much. What would he say?

The phone rang once. At first, Dean didn't want to say anything. He remembered that was mad at Sam for what he said. It rang twice. Then he figured that whatever they were fighting about didn't matter anymore. This might be the last time he would ever talk to Sammy. It rang three times. He prayed Sam would hurry up and answer. There was so much to say, so much to apologize for. It rang four times. Dean's heart sank as he was sent to voicemail.

'If you have this number then you must know what to do'. Sam's voice said. The beep sounded, signaling for Dean to start leaving his message.

"Sammy," he moaned. "I screwed up. The demons got me, and they're gonna kill me." He gave a small, weak chuckle. "Told you I was gonna die bloody, didn't I?" He coughed. "Sammy, don't come looking for me, they'll want you too. They'll want you too, Sammy—" He ended in a fit of coughing.

The demon laughed as she pulled the phone away. "Sam," she said speaking into the phone. "That was your brother, in his last dying moments. He's a couple miles from Kayenta, Arizona, off of 163, in a big abandoned warehouse. Can't miss it. You can come get him if you want. Or rather, what's left of him."

She smiled as she snapped the phone shut. "Now, where were we? Oh yes, we were at the part where we kill you now." She looked at the six demons behind her.

"He's all yours," she said, stepping back.