What goes around comes around.

Summary. . . . . . Dean's taken, but by whom? Blindfolded, tied and beaten why won't anybody speak to him? And just what has happened to Sam? Dean whumping, limp and hurt Sam. Set in season two, so no spoilers at all.

Disclaimer. . . . . Still owned by the talent that is Kripkie, I just like seeing them hurt!

A.N. . . . Thought that I would try my hand at a little bit of Deano bashing. This little plot bunnie came my way and just wouldn't leave me be, so here goes nothing, hope you enjoy!

Oh and for fans of Sammy bashing there's some of that too. I know, I know but what can I say I just love limping Sam!

The freezing cold water striking his face and bare chest had Dean rousing back to consciousness once more. Instantly he knew that he was still hanging by his bound wrists from a hook attached to the ceiling. He knew that as well as his shirt, his jeans, boots and socks had also been removed. He knew that although blindfolded it was once again morning, from the little chink of light managing to sneak past the bottom edge of the cloth. And he knew that Sam still wasn't here, that wherever Sam had been taken to it wasn't this room.

Struggling desperately to get his tired mind to work, he thought back trying to remember how many days Sam had been missing. It had been two days since another failed attempt at fighting back had resulted in him being strung from the ceiling. Three days before that, that Dean had been taken. By whom he did not know, fear and concern for Sam making him less in tune with his surroundings and a quick blow to the head from behind had him unconscious in seconds. Consciousness had found him tied up and blindfolded. It had been five days, eleven hours and thirty six minutes before that, that Sam had gone missing. So nearly eleven days since this hell had started and Dean was no closer to finding anything out about his captors.

Hell he wasn't even sure if him and Sam had been taken by the same people, shit for that matter he didn't even know if they were people that had taken them. Not knowing where Sam was, how he was doing, was killing Dean. Was he hurting? Was he even still alive? No, Dean refused to believe that Sam was anything but alive, even when thoughts would rush over and over through his head that Sam might be seriously hurt, might be dead. Dean would push them away and resolutely refused to believe them. No, Sam was still alive. Where? Dean didn't know. Still captive? Dean was unsure. But Alive, Dean knew he most definitely was.

Hearing movement beside him Dean couldn't help the shudder that coursed through out his body. He spun wildly in the direction of the sound, hoping to catch a clue from the small gap in the blindfold. A well aimed punch to his ribs put paid to that idea as his body jerked violently from the blow and he spun uselessly by his bound wrists. This was how everyday started. An unknown assailant would come in, wake him up either with a slap to the face or as they had done this morning with the cold water treatment, before the beatings began.

So far the beatings had not been anything Dean could not handle; he had received worse hustling pool before now. No the beatings he had been able to handle them, it was the constant silence that was beginning to get to him, wearing him down and shaking him to his very core. For the whole five days he had been held captive, not one word had been spoken to him. No demands, no mutterings of wanting payback, nothing.

The silence that came with every beating was beginning to shred his nerves. He found himself trying desperately to evoke a reaction, but not knowing who or what had taken him was making even this hard to do. How could you wind somebody up, if you didn't know what buttons to press? Not wanting to just hang there and take what was on today's menu, Dean tried again to find out who or what had orchestrated this little stunt.

"Who are you? What do you want? What have you done with my brother? Where's Sam?"

Another vicious blow to Dean's already battered side had him gasping for breathe, the questions cut off as he felt the sharp crack of his ribs breaking. Struggling to take in much needed air, whilst trying hard not to jar the broken bones, he fought the darkness that threatened to take hold of him once more. He couldn't pass out now. If he was going through this, he could only imagine that it was being done to Sam too and Sam had been gone a lot longer. What state would his brother be in? No, he had to stay strong, he had to stay focused, he had to fight back, he had to get free and he had to get Sam.

He tried to straighten himself as much as possible, tried to will his body to look defiant, tried to make his voice come across with a strength he didn't feel, as he asked once more.

"Who are you? What do you want? What have you done with my brother? Where's Sam?"

Bracing himself for the blows that he knew would come; Dean was surprised when then didn't arrive and shocked when a voice finally spoke to him.

"Hello Dean. Long time no see."

He was even more surprised and shocked when he realized he recognized the owner. A sense of foreboding, dread, disgust, anger and fear washed over him. Shit this could not be happening. This didn't bode well for Dean, but it meant that where ever Sam was, he had to be going through a hell of a lot worse.

"I should have just killed you." Dean finally spoke out. "If you have hurt my brother in any way Gordon, I won't hesitate to do so this time. No matter how much Sam begs me not to."

Gordon laughed at Dean's bravado, but didn't answer. He hadn't wanted to let Dean know yet that it was even him that had taken Dean captive, but the older Winchester's refusal to give up; to give in had become boring. As he had stood there watching the blow that had broken the younger mans ribs, watching as Dean had built up his walls again, he had decided to reveal himself. It had gotten him the reaction that he had craved though. Dean's features had registered shock at first, then anger, then fear. The fear, Gordon knew, not for himself but for poor, little, innocent Sammy.

"Gordon. Where. Is. Sam?"

"He's hanging around Dean, not doing so well though, he's feeling a little under the weather."

"You bastard, I will kill you." Dean turned in what he hoped was the right direction and gathering as much moisture as possible spat at Gordon.

"I don't think that you're in any position to do that, Dean. And for your little disgusting display just then, I think we should punish Sam."

"Gordon, you bastard, don't you dare." Dean's heart rate increased at the thought of his brother getting hurt because of him. At getting no answer from the callous hunter he tried a different approach. Swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat at the thought, he pleaded. "No, no Gordon, please no, don't."

"You're just too easy Dean." Gordon heartlessly laughed at Dean's begging. "Okay, Sam won't be hurt. . . . . . . Not yet anyway. It wouldn't be any fun when he's barely even conscious enough to feel the pain from the last beating he received."

Dean knew that the Gordon was trying to goad him into a reaction once more, so he let the comment slide, deciding instead to try and get more information out of the older hunter.

"Why are you doing this? What have you done with Sam? Let me see my brother?"

"You know why I'm doing this Dean. You left me in that house for days, and then you turn me into the police. What is it that people say? What goes around comes around? You should have just killed me last time, Dean. Your demon brother is making you go soft. You were once a great hunter, now you're nothing. You're lower than the scum you use to hunt." Gordon leaned in closer and whispered in to Dean's ear. "Payback is a bitch Dean. And I'm getting my share, with you and with Sam. He's hurting you know, much worse than you are. He's begging for you to come save him. . . . . ."

Dean couldn't help it. His concerns, his worries and his fears for his brother's well being tore away at his heart. Common sense flew out of the window, as anger consumed him. Bringing his head back forcefully, he aimed for what he hoped was Gordon's face.

Although the blow struck home, there was little to no power behind it. Not hurting his captor, just catching him off guard and angering him. Shocked at first, Gordon soon recovered. Nodding to his partner, he stood back and watched as blow after blow was rained down on Dean, a sadistic smirk gracing his face.

Dean tried moving away as the blows landed, tried to desperately protect his injured side. A fist caught him suddenly on his face, the sound of yet more bones breaking sending a sickening feeling to his stomach. He tried to find the strength to lift his legs, to use them to catch whoever was hurting him and try to throw him off balance. He finally succeeded in aiming them towards his assailant, but again the strength was just not there and the resulting swing brought his damaged side straight into the path of the relentless punches.

He couldn't help the scream of agony that escaped him as the next two punches hit their mark. Jagged spikes of pain shot through out his body and darkness once more threatened to overcome him. This time though the pain was forcing him under. His thoughts flitting between the knowledge that Gordon was not alone, he had been behind Dean when the first punch landed; and Sam, his brother was out there, beaten and in pain and pleading for Dean to come rescue him, to come save him.

Dean surrendered to the darkness, with one final thought on his mind. How where they going to get out of this one?

A.N. . . . . Well, how was it? Hope it was okay. Thanks as always to everyone for reading and I'll catch you soon, Peanut x