Cold, that was all you could feel. You were dripping blood and yet lie cold against the wall, too tired to move. It had been days since the demon caught you and it had caused hell against your body with whips and knives though never full to kill you it wanted you to suffer. Given up hope that anyone would come for you, Dean should've been there. You were now to the wall with the edge of a knife to your neck when you heard his voice. "Hurt them again and I'll rip your god-damned throat out."