Lost To Madness

I Saw It In A Movie Once...

Don't own 'em, and if that isn't proof that life is frigging unfair then I don't know what is.

Welcome to the world thru my eyes.

AN: This is a total shameless excuse for shirtless Dean and Sam torture. (Phoebe are you reading?) The ala Lethal Weapon was a special request. (Waves at Gaelic) There will be a few more hastily written chapters, maybe 2 or 3, so I won't bore you for long. This started out as something else called Struck which I have filed away for future use. There is little, if any, soul searching introspection in this. I don't even know what's going on at this point but I'm sure I'll figure something out. Either that or I'll just keep hurting him for the hell of it. As always ta for any attention paid me, I am willing to do tricks for scraps.

And what i know about electricity you could poke in a pin hole, so again, don't waste time telling me what is and isn't possible. I researched a bunch of this and even the experts couldn't agree. (Sticks tongue out at sticklers for accuracy.)

AN 2: I am back to updating the illustrated Moonstar on my website, thruterryseyes dot com, if anyone is interested. I fell behind but I'm back at it now. Ta so much to those of you who've stopped by to check it out or say hi. I have no idea how to respond to the comments but please know I read them and appreciate the kind words.

AN3: As usual I am way behind in responding to reviews I have gotten over the last month or so, apologies to all concerned and I hope I managed to get back to you all. I'm total scum.


He came to, if you could call it that, wet, shivering and aching, positive the feeling his arms were about to tear from his shoulders couldn't be real unless he was strung between two semi's, like the character in that Hitcher movie…

The sudden crack of a hand across his face and an angry voice bellowing "Wake up, you son of a bitch!" brought him out of his daze and damned near sent him under again as he inexplicably spun sickeningly and the pain in his shoulders increased ten-fold. Trying to gasp and cry out at the same time, he only managed to suck in some of the water running down his body and choke.

Dimly, he realized he was actually hanging by ropes or something that were cutting into his wrists, leaving him dangling like some kind of bait. His shirt was gone and icy water was pouring in a thin stream from someplace over his head, down his body, soaking his jeans, adding to the almost unbearable pull on his arms. He could just feel the brush of his bare toes against what felt like bars in the floor, not solid enough to anchor him in place or take any of the weight off his burning shoulders and wrists, just a tease of steadiness that was too tenuous to do more than paw at. Since he couldn't feel the water pooling he had to assume he was hanging over some kind of grate in the floor

"Hold him!" The same rough voice barked and he felt hands grabbing on both sides of him with harsh enthusiasm, but at least, thank God, stopping that swaying spin that was gonna have him hurling in a another minute.

"What the…fuck…?" he spluttered, throat raw, teeth wanting to chatter he was so cold, but he'd grind them until they cracked if he had to, to stop them from doing it.

Blinking desperately to clear the water from his eyes, Dean squinted into the dim light and tried see his captors, but his eyes refused to focus properly. His head was killing him, a dull aching throb at the base of his skull that told him he'd been belted with something hard not too long ago.

"Shut up unless you're answering a question!" Big Mouth snarled, striking him again, but this time only his head snapped to one side as his body was held in place. He felt vertebrae crack that must have pinched a nerve sending fire up the back of his neck, making him gasp again.

"Last time, boy…" The voice warned, "Tell us where it is or this time we're goin' for broke."

Last time? Last time for what? Dean fought against rising panic, scrambling madly to gather his scattered wits.

"What are you talking about?" Dean rasped, twisting against the dig of fingers in his bare flesh. "Who the fuck are you?"

This time Big Mouth stepped out of the darkness surrounding Dean and got real close. Dean tried to turn his head away from the stench of old sweat, stale beer and a lifetime of cigarette smoking being blown into his face, but calloused fingers held him firm and forced Dean's head forward. Cold grey eyes surrounded with craggy folds of loose skin and a ragged looking scar were all Dean could see.

"I'm the guy that's gonna have your balls dangling from his rear view mirror if you don't stop playing stupid. Pretty boy like you's gonna be a real disappointment to the ladies with your gun unloaded." Big Mouth's other hand dropped down to grip Dean viciously.

Dean ground his teeth to keep from crying out, both at the pain and the violation. "Fuck you," he gasped.

Big Mouth snorted, releasing Dean and casting a look at the man to Dean's left. "Maybe you and Davy here can talk about that later, if you're feeling up to it." The man leaned so close Dean could feel the pressure of breath on his skin. "Right now you better tell me what you did with that key." Big Mouth's eyes cut to Dean's right and he nodded shortly.

Dean felt the fingers release his right side and the figure there moved back into the shadows where the sound of objects being moved about could be heard.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Dean exclaimed. "What key?"

Big Mouth stepped back with a disgusted noise, shaking his head. "Ya know kid, I'm a patient guy. I like things neat and tidy. Tell me what I need to know and we can part friends, no harm no foul, everybody goes his own way." He moved back further as the man from Dean's right came back into the weak light pushing a small cart. "Gus here, well, he ain't so patient," Big Mouth continued. "He'll take his answers any way he can get 'em, but he likes slow, dontcha, Gus?"

As Gus approached, Dean had a good look at the rat-faced little man. Balding, body almost skeleton thin, a crooked smile of anticipation pulled his narrow lips upward as he stared at Dean through large-lensed glasses.

Watching Gus with a look that was almost fond, Big Mouth went on. "Sometimes slow means messy, though, but it just seems no one wants to take the easy way anymore and just tell me what I want." He sighed dramatically and rubbed a finger over the scar that tore across his eyes.

To his left, Davy giggled, the fingers of one hand tracing softly down the muscles of Dean's chest and belly. "Don't hurt him too bad, Gus. Leave a little something for me."

Dean jerked away from the clammy touch, internal alarms that rarely came into play tripping everywhere in his body. "Get your hands off me, you fuck!" He swore, kicking outward.

Davy laughed this time and gave Dean's body a push, adding a playful spin. Dean could hear the raucous laughter as he turned erratically at the end of his tether.

He came to a jerking halt as he was suddenly gripped once more by a hand of iron, nausea battling dizziness for dominance. He was blearily aware that other swift hands were encircling his ankles with something, but before he was capable of reacting the strain on his arms got so much worse he could only groan as his feet were tied securely down to whatever the hell he was hanging over, tight enough he could now rest the balls of his feet in place, his shoulder joints screaming as they were stretched to the breaking point.

"The key," Big Mouth snarled, mouth to Dean's ear.

"I don't know what you're talking about…" Dean gasped, his lungs pressed nearly flat by the stretch of his body.

"Have it your way, boy. Gus." Big Mouth moved aside as Gus shuffled forward with his cart.

Swallowing desperately, Dean lifted his head from his chest, the air that had been shuddering in and out of his lungs as he shivered, froze solid as he saw what lay on the cart.

Gus fastened a rubber apron over his front and pulled on pair of heavy rubber gloves with a surgeon's care, his eyes never leaving Dean's face. Tearing his eyes away briefly, he fastened a cable to each of the terminals on the large battery with loving gentleness and lifted them up, the clips on the opposite ends of the cables each held a small dripping sponge.

Dean shook his head wildly to get the water out of his eyes, his heart starting to race as he watched the spindly little man approach and he realized what was about to happen.

He remembered being electrocuted with awful clarity. The sensation of electricity ripping through his body, burning it from the inside out, joints locked in an agony he couldn't escape. Blue lines of miniature lightning arcing through the pool of water he lay in, ricocheting from the Rawhead he'd fired the taser at, frying his brain, his heart…

He couldn't help the useless spasming of his body against it's restraints, drawing in, away from the cables as Gus raised the terminals toward him.

"No…" Dean panted. Not this…anything but this…. "I don't know what you want…" God dammit he was almost hyperventilating.

Gus smiled at Dean, at the panic in the younger man's eyes, the hungry gleam in his own eyes making it clear he wasn't doing this because he wanted answers to questions. He didn't give a damn what Dean might have to say.

Dean's water-soaked body arched impossibly, his world shaking, as the terminals were pressed against his belly, his jaws locking as the current sent his muscles into overdrive, his cry of pain a hoarse staccato of wordless suffering. The black behind his eyes trembled as abbreviated images, memories, shot through, riding the lightning bolt of pain.

Gus pulled the terminals away after a few seconds and Dean slumped limply, groaning, His body twitching in delayed spasms. He tried to open his eyes, to find some way to resist, but the frantic commands from his brain hit a wall of pain before they reached his body.

Gus glanced back at Big Mouth who nodded at him. "Again." Behind him, Davy giggled.

Gus grinned.

This time, Gus wrote his name in a sweeping flourish across the bare flesh before him, smirking, as Dean bucked and screamed.

God, he loved his job.


End Notes: Sam's around someplace. I'm almost sure of it. I'd like to say all will be revealed at the proper moment but who the hell am I kidding. I'm not even sure what the damned key is. Gaelic, ta for the quick read. It's always better for your touch.

Ta for reading if you made it this far. I'd like to say it'll get better, but unfortunately, that won't be the case.