This is the end; this was how I'm going to die. I could feel the blood slowly draining from my body as consciousness was slipping further and further away. The tingling of numbness in my fingers from my hands being tied up was fading. This is it. Surprisingly, I wasn't afraid anymore, I almost welcomed my death.

I've had everything taken away from me; my family, my friends, and my dignity. I knew I was ready for the end. I always knew it would end like this. My whole life had been a chaotic mess, there's no way it would end peacefully. It ends with the same song I've lived my life to; messy and alone.

I was about to give into the darkness when I heard voices. I couldn't tell if it was him or not. No, there were two different voices. Were there more of them?

"Holy shit! Sam come here!" I heard one of them yell as they came running toward me. It was getting even harder to hang on.

"Is she alive?" I hear the other voice ask.

"I don't know. We gotta get her down from there!" The one voice said as I felt myself being knocked around a bit but then was slowly lowered down to the ground.

"She's breathing but she's lost a lot of blood." The second voice said to the other.

"Okay, we gotta get her out of here!" I felt someone lift me up and start to carry me out before my vision went completely black.

When I came back to consciousness again; I was in a car, lying down in the backseat with my head in someone's lap. A big hand was wiping my face with a towel. "Step on it Dean!" He yelled. I couldn't move and it felt like everything around me was wet. Blood. My blood. I didn't open my eyes, I'm not even sure I could at this point. "We got you," I heard the man say. "You're gonna be okay." Lastly before I fell asleep out of pure exhaustion.

When I woke up again, my head didn't feel as fuzzy, at least not like I thought it would. I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. I was in a small dark room with one window and by the looks of it, it was probably around midnight when I gazed out. I laid on a double bed that was pushed up against the wall, a bedside table was close to it and I noticed that there was a glass of water placed upon it. I looked around some more to see a dresser on the farthest wall. There was one door on the opposite side of the room that was closed. I glanced over at the glass of water and attempted to sit myself up so I could grab it, which turned out to be a huge mistake.

A sharp, stabbing pain ran through my right shoulder all the way down the right side of my body and I let out a scream albeit a little too loud. Instantly a man with short hair came running into the room with a gun in hand, followed by a much taller man with shoulder length hair, holding a knife.

"What happened?" The first man asked.

"What the hell is going on?" I yelled as unwelcoming tears streamed down my face from the pain.

"Okay, okay. Calm down." The tall guy said to me as he set his knife down on the dresser and made his way over to where I laid. "You were pretty banged up," He said as he sat down at the edge of the bed, "We rescued you from the sewer you were in. You were tied up down there, looked like someone had beat you up pretty badly."

Suddenly everything came rushing back to me at full force. "Oh God!" I said and held my sides gently, I couldn't breathe. My heart started to pound as if it would leap out of my chest.

"Okay, deep breath," the tall guy said. "You're safe now, no ones going to hurt you anymore."

"Who are you?" I asked between deep breaths.

"I'm Dean," the shorter guy said, "This is my younger brother Sam."

"What's your name?" Sam asked with a small smile.

"Brittany," I whispered quietly.

"Okay, Brittany. You're safe now." Dean said, sitting down on the other side of the bed, "We took care of that monster. No one is gonna hurt you here."

"Monster? What kind of monster?" I asked, my face expressing confusion. I mean the guy that captured me did some pretty weird stuff but, a monster? There was no such thing.

"We'll get to that later," Dean stated, continuing, "In the mean time we gotta get you fixed up, looks like you got a dislocated shoulder and some pretty bad bumps and bruises. You're probably gonna need a few stitches."

"Well," I said with a shaky breath, "Shouldn't I be in a hospital?"

"Nah, Sam and I can take care of you." Dean said.

"Are you guys doctors?" I asked astounded, and with that, Dean chuckled.

"No," he said, "Just a couple of guys that have had their share of beatings." He stood up and made his way to the door, "I'm gonna go get the medical kit." Dean said before he left the room.

"Okay," Sam said, "Let's look you over." He got up and walked over to the closet, taking out a blanket and laid it down over top of me. "Now, if you don't mind, we need you to take your shirt and pants off so we can stitch you up, and take a look at your shoulder."

For the first time I looked down and saw that I wasn't in my own clothes. I was wearing an old faded AC/DC shirt and sweatpants that are about 4 sizes too big. I wrapped the blanket around me as best I could and took the shirt off. I reached down to just roll the pants up as far as they could go. I don't know these guys so they don't need to see absolutely everything.

I looked up at Sam and he gave me a small sincere smile before taking a gentle hold of my head to look at it first before moving onto my neck and shoulders. He took a quick look at my chest, stomach, and then legs before helping me wrap back up.

After a while, Dean came back in with a first aid kit and a bottle of whiskey. He set the kit down on the bedside table beside me and handed me the bottle. "Drink," he said to me as I looked at the bottle confused, "Trust me." I took the bottle and took a big swig. I was surprised when it didn't come right back up. "More," he scolded me when I gave him a questioning look. "Trust me," he said again, "You really don't want to be sober for this." I took another big swig and almost immediately felt the alcohol taking effect.

"Okay," Sam said, "Looks like she needs stitches on her forehead, lower right stomach, and left thigh. She also has a dislocated right shoulder, and it looks like a couple broken ribs."

"Damn baby," Dean said, "What'd that thing do to you?" he asked before placing his hand on my other shoulder and pushing me back against the pillows. They got started on stitching me up. It did hurt, it actually hurt like Hell but Dean was right, the alcohol did help.

Sam was working on the cut on my head and Dean stitched up my leg. It was obvious that they had done this before. Who the hell were these guys?

30 minutes later, they finished up and Dean sat on the bed in front of me, "Okay," he started, "We gotta pop your shoulder back in place. I'm not gonna lie, it's gonna hurt like a son of a bitch." I reached for the whiskey and take another swig. "Okay, I'm ready." Dean took my hand and I felt Sam's hands on my shoulder. "One, Two…" POP.

I clenched Dean's hand and screamed at the very top of my lungs almost like a shriek, and then, consciousness slipped from me yet again.