Disclaimer: As usual, I own none of it.

Summary: Sam is tortured by some crazy guy for fun, and Dean is made to watch.

Note: Hopefully you guys are all reading the above summary and whooping. Heh


Dean sat opposite Sam in the small café, who was as usual, was rambling on about their current hunt. Not that Dean always shut out Sam when he was talking, but he just couldn't concentrate on the words flying out of his brother's mouth at the moment.

It was just too damn hot to do anything worthwhile.

They had come to this small town on the outskirt of a city since they had read something that sounded like their kind of thing. But nothing went as planned. The heat was incredible. When driving from the city to the town, within a few hours they noticed the gradual change in temperature. Degrees soared as the sun shone down mercilessly upon them. And most of the locals acted like nothing was wrong, seemed like they all got used to the lifestyle.

Dean was under the impression that they could finish the hunt quickly and drive away from the ''hell on Earth'', but the worst part had to be that they had been cooped up in the smallest motel in the history of small motels for nearly two weeks without an important lead. Every time they thought they had found something useful, it somehow managed to backfire on them.

''…and talk to him okay?''

Dean nodded absently mindedly at Sam, his eyes staring past everything like he had done for the past ten minutes. Sam however, being the smart college boy he was, wasn't fooled this time round.

''Are you listening to me?'', he snapped, whacking his brother on the arm.

Dean roused himself and looked at the shaggy head before him, before clearing his throat to reply.

''Cos I was Sammy.''

''Then who did I just say we must talk to?''

''Er.. Well, that guy from, erm, works in the- ''

''Roger Milner. He's a friend of the missing victim!'', Sam breathed angrily.

''Look Dean, I hate this town as much as you do. And while you laze around everyday at the motel watching tv, I'm the one who has to research for leads. So if I'm boring you, I'm sorry, but you either pay attention to what I've got to say so we can finish this hunt and get out of here soon, or you can do your own research.''

And with that, he pushed his laptop towards Dean, breathing like he'd run a mile after his latest rant.

Dean, caught off guard by his normally calm brother, took in the damp mop of hair, slick with sweat from the heat and the dark circles under his eyes. Feeling a pang of guilt, he raised his palms.

''Okay Sam, sorry. You do your thing.''

Sam seemed surprised for a moment, before pulling back his laptop and continued in a slightly abashed tone.

''Right. Like I was saying, we'll go talk to Roger tonight, inquire on the victim.''

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes a bit.

''But we've already done that with two of his other friends!''

''Yes well, they all give different views. Let's just talk to this one alright?'', Sam asked almost pleadingly, wanting so desperately for this hunt to be over so they could be on their way again.

It was true that they had posed as officers and interviewed two others, and they both didn't give too much similar information. Resigning, knowing that they had no choice, he agreed.

''Alright, but I'm telling you, if he says something totally different I swear I'm gonna punch him and blame my outbreak of behaviour on this friggin' heat!'', wiping away the sweat that formed on his upper lip.

Sam exhaled slowly, shaking his head, a small smile tugging on his lips before they both stood up, paid for their food and made the way to the impala.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, willing to go to sleep. But it just seemed impossible at the moment.

The car itself was like at oven, baking them and absorbing heat in to melt its occupants. Both of the windows were down, as Dean had said a bit enthusiastically that there might be some wind when he drives. Sadly, that wasn't the case. The wind itself seemed to die before it reached the inside of the car, and Sam had given up waiting for some non-existent breeze.

Slouching down further into his seat, trying in vain to escape the deadly heat rays, he once again forced himself to doze off, so as to not deal with everything anymore. Why the hell is this town so damn hot? Fuming, he reached for the bottle of water behind, only to find it empty.

Cursing silently, Sam felt nauseous. Sweat trickled down his chest and his brain seemed like it was swelling from all the liquid he drank, but his throat was still parched and scratchy. He decided to concentrate on his breathing, to force his mind to think about nothing else except that. Thank god Dean has his music off, or I think I'd die right here.

Knowing that nothing productive was going to be done, he closed his eyes to blackness.

Dean drove on steadily, his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He did his best to ignore his damp shirt, his throat which craved for more water as he cruised down the road.

He did have his music on blasting before, since he thought it would help him get his mind off the heat if he hummed along to his favourite tunes. But alas, that was not meant to be as his throat just started calling out for more water.

Dean glanced at Sam whom he knew was just pretending to sleep to escape this hell. He really looked like crap. His brother had been up late into the night doing research, finding leads and stuff to end the hunt faster while he had been sleeping. Something settled in his chest, and he didn't blame Sam for his short outburst in the café earlier. Heat like this, emotions sure ran high.

Parking in the motel car park, he got out, followed by Sam who was awfully quiet. Upon reaching the room, they simultaneously threw their bags onto the bed when Sam spoke.

''Hey, we're out of water again. I'm gonna go to the minimart to get some stuff.''

Dean nodded, already halfway to the shower.

''Don't be long.'', he said before shutting the door and turning on the cold water over his burning body.

Dusk was approaching fast as Sam made his way to the shop. He felt horrible. His shirt was completely a different colour then when he wore it out in the morning. His long hair stuck to his forehead uncomfortably and there was this pounding in his skull. He couldn't wait to get that shower before hitting the road again to find Roger Milner.

Seeing the neon signs ahead, he quickened his steps, but suddenly hearing another pair of feet to his right. Barely reacting, he saw a flash of silver before the long pole collided with his head with such force that his neck cricked and in turn spun his shoulders and entire body towards the dirt.

Sam was out cold before he even hit the ground.

Note: Sorry if it's a little long, I'll try not to do it so much. Reviews are inhaled, so please blow them my way.