so, very long time on updating this story, and I really have no excuse except for the fact that it is really hard to write someone as evil as Charlie. After working on this story, I am always left in a really dark place and it makes it very hard on me...so, all that said, I'm sorry to anyone still willing to read!! thanks for reading and all the awesome reviews...bambers;)

Chapter Eleven

"You can beat him, Sam," the Yellow-Eyed Demon uttered, his fetid breath warm against Sam's cheek. "I've given you the means to do so. An' now it's up to you to use them to save Dean." He cocked his head to the side as he studied the youngest Winchester, trying to determine if Sam was listening to him, but couldn't be certain. "The power I've given him doesn't even begin to compare to the wondrous things you can do. Jus' give in to the anger an' rage burning inside of you, an' you could rip him to shreds without even lifting a finger."

"An' what happens to my brother if I beat Charlie?" Sam purposefully lowered his gaze as he mentally went over everything the demon was telling him. Everything Yellow-Eyes had done to him so far was in an attempt to get him to use whatever abilities he had bestowed on him. If that was the case then Charlie's wager with the demon had to be somehow related to his latent abilities.

"You're brother gets to live," the demon stated simply, "an' you get to live a life without hideous scars."

"So he gets to live. Like that girl got to live?" Sam gave a curt nod as he strained against his restraints. "Think I'll take care of Charlie in my own way without your help. Cause see, I'm not about to let my brother be just another loophole for you, you sonuvabitch."

"Well, that would require you growing a new set of balls, Sammy." The demon laughed as he cocked back a fist and slammed into the youngest Winchester's face. "Cause it's really got to be said that ever since you had your little run in with Charlie, you're really kind of pathetic."

"Huh, I was thinkin' the same thing about you," Sam spat vehemently.

A spark of fierce determination lit within him and grew into a raging inferno as the moments tick by. For all Dean had done to protect and shelter him after Charlie's brutal attack on them, Sam now realized that his brother hadn't done him any favors. He had been born to be a hunter, yet for all his countless hours of training, Sam was now just what the demon had said he was; he was weak and pathetic. He had cowered behind his brother, allowing his fears grow until they consumed him completely.

Somewhere along the line he had lost himself, lost sight of who he was, and had lived within the sheltered walls his brother had provided. Sam knew it wasn't Dean's fault; Dean had done what he always did when Sam was suffering or in pain. He protected him. But within the warmth and security of that protection, Sam had forgotten who he was, had forgotten that sometimes the things worth fighting for didn't come without a price.

For better or worse, he was a Winchester. And no matter how badly beaten or broken, Winchester's cowered to no man or demon.

With that sudden realization, it almost felt as if a dark veil had been lifted from deep within his soul. Over the past year, the horrific scars that littered his chest had literally defined who he was. But no longer. He was Sam Winchester. His job, to protect those who couldn't protect themselves no matter the cost. And if he died at the hands of Charlie or some damn demon, he would do it on his own terms.

Sam leaned in threateningly close, coming face to face with the demon, and hissed, "I will beat Charlie, an' I'll do it without your help or with the aid of any powers you seem to think I possess, you freakin' bastard."

As the demon studied Sam, some of the spark of fire left his glittering golden-eyed gaze. "Ahh . . . Sammy, there's the fight I've been missing in you. Better later than never, but I'm wondering if you'll feel the same way once Charlie gets here?"

"I'm not afraid of him."

"Awww . . . sure you are, Sam." The demon trailed a finger down over the raised scars on Sam's chest, "The scars he left here," he then moved his hand to lightly tap his fingertip against Sam's temple, "Have left even more damaging ones here."

"True," Sam admitted without shame, "but these scars are also a reminder of no matter how badly he might have hurt me, I survived. Against all odds, he didn't beat me then, an' he wouldn't do it now either."

"Brave words for someone who is about to lose his brother," came a cold and calculating voice from near the entrance of the bunker.

With a sinking feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, Sam tilted his head to the side just in time to see Charlie enter the underground room. The madman dragged Jake's body into the room, and dropped him in a heap beside Sam.

"An' that's not to mention having to watch you friend Jake die in the process." Cupping a hold of Sam's face, Charlie dug his fingernails into his flesh as he squeezed his cheeks. "An' no matter how brave you think you are, Sammyboy, I can still bring you to your knees."

Abruptly letting go of Sam's face, Charlie spun on his heel and headed over to the table where he'd left his weapons. Straining against his fetters, Sam watched as his captor loving trailed his fingers over all his torture devices, and inwardly cringed as Charlie lifted the Spanish Tickler in the air and the cold steel caught a glint of light. Lovingly caressing the weapon in his hand, he sauntered back to Sam.

"Ahh . . . careful, Sammy, I can see that little spark of fear you're tryin' so desperately hard to hide." Charlie chuckled as he lightly pressed the sharpen tines against Sam's cheek and gently traced the weapon down his neck, following the the path of scars he'd left behind from their last encounter.

Unconsciously holding his breath, Sam flinched as he turned his head away from the sight of the madman and the Spanish Tickler. "Jus' get it over with you bastard," Sam snarled, hating that Charlie could tease out his hidden fears with a single word or touch. "You can't hurt me more than you already have, so do your freakin' worst."

"Wow," Charlie pulled his hand away from Sam, and grinned, his dark eyes alighting with pure derisive pleasure. "I gotta say that I really like this new side I'm seeing of you, Sammyboy." His gaze slipped to Jake for the briefest of moments before he refocused his attention on Sam. "Cause I was really afraid that I wouldn't enjoy torturing you as much this time around." Without any given warning, his hand shot out, and he raked the sharpened tines through Sam's upper arm.

Involuntarily, a scream ripped from Sam's lips as blood spilled from the four deep gashes. Biting down hard on his lower lip, Sam breathed hard, consciously willing himself not to cry out anymore.

Charlie fisted his hand into Sam's hair and yanked his head backward so they were looking each other in the eyes. "An' you know what? I'm not disappointed, that was just as much fun as the first time around."

"But that wasn't the first time either, was it?" Sam sneered, remembering his earlier conversation with the Yellow-Eyed Demon. "The first time you came after me an' Dean, my Dad kicked your ass, didn't he?"

From behind Charlie, the demon chuckled. "He's got you there, Charlie. You really messed with the wrong Winchester that time, didn't you?"

Charlie's smirking grin faltered for the briefest of moments as he swung to glare at the demon. "Think I've more than made up for what he did to me, wouldn't you agree, smart-ass?"

"Oh, I don't know," the demon smoothly countered, "the scars John left on you make what you did to Sam seem like child's play." His yellow-eyed gaze ticked from Charlie's face to his hand and then back again. "An' hell if it weren't for me, you'd be known as four-finger Charlie now instead of that ridiculous name you go by." He chortled as his steely gaze fell to Sam. "You're father's got style, boy, that much I'll give him. He went after Charlie with more vengeance than I've witnessed in a very long time. It really was a thing of beauty to behold."

Instead of being daunted by the demon's comments, Charlie merely smiled as he pressed his fingers against Sam's stomach. "You should've seen your Daddy's face when he got his first really good look at you after what I did to you an' your brother, Sammyboy." He quirked a brow as he further added, "An' your brother was such a fighter even back then." He barked out a harsh laugh as his eyes took on a faraway look. "But I broke him. He just crumbled apart in front of my eyes. An' all it took to do that was breaking you."

"From where I'm standing, it sounds more like my Dad broke you, you sonuvabitch," Sam taunted, beyond caring if the madman hurt him anymore. "An' if I know my father, which I think I do, he probably tore you apart limb by freakin' limb."

"Damn near did," the demon interjected, amusement clearly evident in his tone. "Like I said before, John certainly knows how exact revenge on those who have wronged him. He's makin' for a real nice addition to Hell."

"You know what, Sammy?" Charlie said as he knelt beside Jake's prone body, and then glanced up at Sam through lowered lashes. "Let's let the past be the past, an' start with a fresh slate, shall we?" As Charlie uttered this, he hefted the older man to his feet and dragged him over to an old wood chair sitting in the middle of the room and handcuffed him to it. "You're Dad did some things to hurt me, I did some things to hurt you an' your brother, but no one's done anything to hurt poor Jake here, an' I'm thinkin' he's feeling a bit left out . . . what do you think?"

"Don't you dare touch him. You wanna hurt me, then damn it hurt me, but leave him the hell out of this," Sam hissed, fear for his friend now pushing through his faltering bravado. "You wanna fight, I'll give you one you'll never forget, jus' leave him alone."

"Careful there, Sam," the demon taunted as he leaned against the wall beside Sam and crossed his arms to watch whatever Charlie was planning on doing to Jake. "Cause unless you're plannin' on using the abilities I've given you, he gonna rip you apart piece by piece. An' no matter how brave you seem to think you are at the moment, you'll be begging him to stop long before he's even remotely finished with you."

"What do ya say, Sammyboy?" A devilish glint filled Charlie's eyes as he moved to stand behind Jake's chair, and placing his hands on either side of the older man shoulders, he leaned in closer so his face was side by side with Jake's. "I'll fight ya for him. An' if I win, you get to watch him die before I kill you."

"You can beat him, Sam," the demon said confidently, "you just need to set aside your fears and embrace what you really are. Use what I've given you, an' send him to Hell where he belongs. I'm sure your Dad will be glad to see him there."

Without any other option available to him, Sam opened his mouth to agree, but as he took a moment to really think about what they both were saying, something clicked inside of him. His mouth snapped shut as he realized that the demon and Charlie were both trying to goad him into using his abilities to beat Charlie. He could almost understand the demon's reasoning for it as it had been always been in his plans for Sam to use the powers he had bestowed on him. But Charlie seemed just as eager to see him use his latent abilities, if not even more so than the demon. And if that were the case, then their wager must have had something to do with getting Sam to use his power to beat the madman. From what Dean had told him of the first wager Charlie had made, Sam understood the crazed man would think nothing of allowing himself to be killed if it meant he got what he wanted in the end. And Sam shuddered to think of what he would gain in the wager this time around.

"Tick-tock, Sammy, tick-tock," Charlie jeered as he pressed his fingertips into the side of Jake's throat in a threatening manner. "Make a decision now or watch as you force me to do something really horrible to your friend."

"No, I won't fight you," Sam muttered as he gave a curt shake of his head, and then lowered it, hating himself for having made the wager in the first place.

"Are you sure?" Charlie asked, clear disappointment in his voice. "You're not even gonna try to save his life after all he's done for you an' Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sam muttered, and if it were even possible he lowered his head even further as his shoulders slumped in defeat. Even if he won the wager he had made with the demon, he still lost, and dreaded the thought of having to face Margaret and tell her he had done nothing as he watched her husband die. "Jus' get it over with," he hissed is a breathy whisper, brimming tears threatening to spill at any given moment.

"Damn, that's cold." Charlie laughed, unnerving Sam even further than as he already was. "Guess you really are the weakest link in the Winchester family, you freakin' coward."

"I guess I am," Sam breathed in a barely audible whisper, not about to let the madman goad him into losing the wager he had made to save Dean's life.

"Alrighty then, but don't say I didn't warn you this would be brutal to watch." Charlie strode toward the back of the room, grabbed something off the floor and brought it back to where Jake was sitting.

Placing Jake's chin on the metal bar of the cruel looking contraption, he slid the older man's head beneath the cap, and tightened it into place with large turn screw. Then Charlie returned his attention to Sam. With a flick of his wrist, Sam's head slammed back hard against the wall, and was held there firmly so he was forced to watch what Charlie did to Jake. "Wouldn't want you to miss a moment of this, Sammyboy. It's gonna be really cool, " he assured as he placed his hand on top of the long turn screw that rested above the metal cap on Jake's head. "It's called a Head Crusher, in case you didn't know."

His gaze slid to the two sturdy outer bars that held the metal cap in place. "Back in the day, men used to use this device to extract information before crushing the heads of their victims." He turned the screw a half turn and Sam heard Jake groan as his eyes shot open. "It'll shatter his teeth . . . crush his jaw, mangle his brain . . . an' from everything I've studied on the subject, if you squeezed their heads hard enough, their eyes will pop right out of their sockets." With a playful wink, he further added, "Like I said, really cool, huh?"

"So is that still a no, Sam?" The Yellow-Eyed Demon asked as he folded his arms and crossed his legs, preparing himself to watch the horrific display of Charlie's cruelty. "Or have you suddenly changed your mind."

"S-Sam," Jake uttered through clenched teeth, and as Sam turned to look at him, he saw the older man shake his head as a single tear slipped down his cheek. "Wh-whatever they want from you, the answer is n-no. Understand me?"

"Don't listen to him cause he'll be changing his mind shortly. For some damn reason, people always seem to change their minds whenever I use this damn thing on them." Charlie turned the screw again, tightening the cap around Jake's head. Jake groaned, his eyes squeezing tightly shut, but still refused to cry out as Charlie tightened the screw another half a notch. "So what's it gonna be, Sammy, you gonna just sit there an' do nothing as Jake dies or are you gonna fight me?"

"I – I . . . ." Sam's voice trailed off as he swallowed hard, knowing that if he did nothing Jake would die, but if he lifted a finger to help him Dean would die in his place. No matter what he did or said now, with his wager he had damn one of the people he cared about to suffer and die a brutal death. But no matter how much he might have wished things were different, wished that he had never made the stupid wager with the demon, he couldn't change things now.

"No," he said with utter and complete hopelessness. He knew he was condemning his friend to die an extremely painful death, but the alternative was to see his brother die like he had seen in his vision, and he just couldn't let that happen.

"Alright, have it your way, but just remember his death is on your shoulder, Sammy." Charlie turned the screw again, and this time, Jake did scream.