A.N. This ficlet is an extension to a short piece (which is the final section of this fic) that I wrote for LadieDusk in response to her birthday request. I hope you enjoy it.

Warning - The ending to this story is intentionally oblique. It is left up to the reader to imagine for him or her self whether things turn out positively...or not.

Diana: Goddess of the hunt, wild animals, forests and mountains. Also known as Luna, Goddess of the moon. Also known as Hecate, Goddess of Hades and of the crossroads. Also known as The Queen of Witches.

And which is worse, all you have done
Hath been but for a wayward son.
Macbeth, Hecate's Monologue.

Hellish earth and heavenly goddess of the crossroads;
guiding light queen of the night enemy of the sun.
Lyrics from: Hecate (Queen of Hades) by Hades

AND YOU SHALL SLEEP FOREVER MY ENDYMION

Present :

Stupid, stupid, stupid...
Dean's internal admonishments, how ever often repeated to himself, did nothing to either change or to help the situation.
Shmuck. Stupid, stupid shmuck!
It was a novice mistake. A moment of complete carelessness, unworthy of a Winchester, and he had no right at all to be surprised at his current predicament. Pissed off? Yes. Surprised? No.
Stupid!

Earlier attempts had lead Dean to conclude that the restraints which were strapped around his wrists, ankles and waist had no intention of giving up on the job which they were designed to perform at any time soon. The feel of the mattress underneath his back had lead him to assume that he was stretched out on a bed. Whilst in no way freezing, the air temperature was cool enough for him to recognise that he was bare chested, and his toes wriggled freely enough to tell him that his boots and socks had been removed.

As to his immediate environment he had no clue being, as he was, surrounded by darkness. He could detect the smell of diesel accompanied by the faint tang of wood smoke, but couldn't really distinguish any other clear scents. He became more attentive when he thought he could hear the sound of a train passing by somewhere in the distance, but it could equally have been the sound of an eighteen wheeler moving along a highway.

The amount of time which had elapsed since his supreme moment of idiocy, when he gave in to the physical desire of Southern States Dean instead of his brain, was a mystery to him; having made the journey drugged and unconscious. He returned to berating himself.
One hot piece of ass, that's all it took. Moron!

XXX

Previously :

Dean sidled up to his brother who was, as he often is, sat at the small table in their motel room, nose buried in his laptop. He shot his hand out, intending to close the laptop lid, but Sam was faster. Grabbing the lid to stop it closing with one hand, he smacked Dean's arm away with the other.
"Get lost!"
Dean sighed and sat himself at the table opposite Sam, plonking his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands.
"Saa...am. Oh, Saa...am. Sammeeeeeeeee."
Sam lifted his gaze from the screen and glared at his older brother.
"What?"
"M'bored."
Sam continued to glare.
"You don't say? Why don't you go watch some kiddie cartoons on TV?"
"Don' wanna."
"Ok...How about you wash some dishes then, instead of leaving them all for me as usual?"

Dean decided to pretend Sam hadn't just made some dumb comment about washing dishes. Instead, his face morphed into something resembling a hard done to cocker spaniel.
"Wanna go out."
Sam wasn't fast enough to reign in the small smile at the sight of Dean's petulant bottom lip. Dean was quick to pick up.
"Come on Sammy, just for a bit...pleeease?"

Sam sat back. Closing the lid of his laptop he took a good look at his brother. A bad case of Salmonella had laid Dean low for a few days. Within an hour of leaving the restaurant the first bout of vomiting had hit. Sam assumed the chicken Dean had ordered was either undercooked or hadn't been defrosted properly. Either way, Dean was very quickly too ill to travel and Sam had booked them into the first motel they came across. By then Dean was still vomiting and his temperature had soared. Fortunately they had got to their room before the uncontrollable diarrhoea had joined in with the game. Dean had eventually passed out on the bathroom floor. The next 24 hours had consisted of the occasional cool bath to control his temperature and Sam forcing Dean to drink salt and sugar mixed in water on the hour, every hour. Dean had been too ill even to care that Sam had needed to change Dean's bedding twice and then trail the soiled sheets to the resident's communal laundry.

Of course, in one of Dean's more lucid moments they had been through the hospital or not "debate" and, looking back, Sam still felt he had taken a big risk when he gave in to Dean.

Finally Dean's body had purged itself, leaving Dean weak and Sam exhausted. But, that was then and this was now. Dean could only take so long of being under house arrest, no matter that he still looked pale, still had dark circles under his eyes and was still only able to tolerate limited amounts of bland foods.

"I dunno Dean. You were seriously on the edge there for a while, you're clearly still not 100% and I'm guessing that by out, you don't mean sitting in the car while I take you on a short scenic drive?"
Dean looked at Sam as though he had suggested Dean put on a dress and go line dancing.
"Christ Sam! I'm not an invalid. I don't want to be chauffeured around to stare at trees. I want to go somewhere where's there's people, and music, and...stuff."
"You mean you want to go to a bar."
Dean feigned surprise.
"Oooh. Great idea little brother. Why didn't I think of that? Bags first shower."

The older Winchester was already on his feet.
"Dean!"
"What?"
Sam shook his head in defeat.
"Ok. But we only stay for an hour and you stick with tonic water. Deal?"
Dean paused on his way to the bathroom.
"Tonic water...Right."
Dean hummed happily as he disappeared into the bathroom. Vodka and tonic? I can live with that.
Sam stared after Dean suspiciously. That was too easy.

XXX

Present :

Left alone in the dark, Dean was beginning to wonder whether he had simply been abandoned? He was thirsty and his stomach rumbled with hunger. He lay, trying to remember how long the human body could survive without water. He figured that in his case the length of time was likely to be shorter anyway, given that he wasn't yet fully recovered from his food poisoning and had helped the dehydration process with his alcohol consumption. Way to go Winchester. Cheer yourself up why don't you?

He tried shouting, immediately noticing a slight echo, but that was the only response he got. Despite having already judged it to be a pointless exercise, he returned to trying to tug and wheedle his restraints loose.

XXX

Previous :

Sam was pleased to find a bar less than a mile from their motel. He was even happier to find that on the inside it was quite respectful, especially when compared to their usual biker bars. The floors had actual carpet and the deep blue velvet covered seating appeared free of stains and old cigarette burns. The wooden bar counter itself gleamed with polish in the subdued lighting and there was no sign of one arm bandit machines or...
"Dude! There's no pool tables! What kinda bar doesn't have pool tables?"
Sam grinned at Dean's look of horror.
"A nice bar. Somewhere clean and friendly. Somewhere where it's unlikely there's going to be any brawling. Somewhere that keeps the volume of the music low enough so that people can talk. Somewhere I don't mind you being. That's what kind."
"Man, it's just freaky."
Dean raised his glass to take a drink.

"How's the tonic water?"
Dean swallowed quickly.
"What?"
"Your drink. It's great that you're being sensible for a change. I'm proud of you."
Dean felt a slight twinge of guilt, knowing that the glass actually held more vodka than it did tonic.
"Er..yeah. Hey, a deals a deal, right? Sweet Honeysuckle! Take a look at that!"

Sam swivelled his head, looking to see what had attracted Dean's gaze. He couldn't help but give a low whistle as he too stared at the woman making her way towards the bar. As if she had heard him, the woman turned to glance in Sam and Dean's direction, gifting them with a small smile before she turned away again. Sam felt his cheeks grow hot as he quickly turned back to Dean. Dean himself still had his gaze firmly fixed on the woman's back. Sam leaned across their table.
"Dude! You're drooling!"

Reluctantly, Dean dragged his gaze away to face his brother. Deans green eyes shone brightly and he too looked a little flushed.
"Did you see her Sam? Did you see how blue her eyes are? And her hair! I just want unpin all that luscious black hair and run my hands through it. And that body! With those legs. And..."
"Dean, calm down. For Chrissake, you're gushing!"
"Do you think she's with someone? She has to be. She's either meeting someone here, or...or he's outside parking up. What'd you think? She can't be on her own...can she? God, if she's on her own...Did you see her smile at us? Jeeze those lips. I can picture myself..."
"Woah! Stop! Right there!

XXX

Present :

Dean's thoughts shifted back to when he and Sam were sat in the bar, to the moment when the woman walked in. Dean thumped the back of his head twice against the mattress. Stupid! He should have known. He should have been able to sense...something. She was too beautiful. Too perfect. Idiot! He licked his lips, trying to moisten them to no avail.

As the time passed he began to alternate between sleep and wakefulness, his sense of how long he had been contained non existent. His growing thirst reaching the level of desperation. He gave up shouting when his throat grew so dry that his voice was reduced to nothing more than a painful croak. Now, if he dreamed as he slept, it was always about water; drinking it, swimming in it, walking through rain.

He had long since gone beyond light headed and was now, instead, plagued by a constant agonising headache. Sometimes as he lay awake in the darkness he could hear the sound of a dripping tap. It had taken him a long while to realise that he was probably hallucinating, and then he forgot that, and in his mind he truly believed in the frustrating sound of the slow drip of water.

He began to wake less frequently. Began to loose his sense of self. He was drifting, only half aware, wondering how much longer Sam was going to be on the breakfast run? He no longer recognised the danger he was in, stopped noticing that he was restrained, paid no heed to the fact that he was slowly dying, alone.

XXX

Previous :

Sam found himself having to accept the fact that Dean was now distracted and highly likely to stay that way.
"Dean. Even when you keep your head still, your eyeballs keep swivelling in her direction."
Dean, at last, made full eye contact with Sam.
"I can't believe she's actually alone. It's been 30 minutes now. She can't have been stood up...that's just not possible. Is it?"
Sam shrugged, although he too thought that being stood up wasn't something this woman had ever experienced, nor was she ever likely to.

"I thought you were going to talk to her when you got the last drinks in? How come you didn't?"
To Sam's utter astonishment, Dean lowered his head slightly and looked shyly over at the woman again from under his eyelashes.
"I er...I think I need another one of these first."
Sam burst into a broad grin.
"Oh my God! Dean Winchester, the Lerrrve Maestro himself, is nervous about talking to a...hang on...You need another tonic water to build your courage up? What the frigg?...Shit! You've been mixing it, haven't you? What's in it? Vodka?"

Dean squirmed under Sam's accusing glare.
"Dean! We had a deal! You know what? You're unbelievable! What are they? Singles? Or doubles?"
Caught out and feeling guilty, Dean responded angrily.
"What the hell's it got to do with you baby brother? Since when did I need your say so before I could have a drink? Yeah, I'm drinking alcohol...get over it Princess!"

For a few seconds the two brothers held each other's stare; then Sam stood, grabbing his jacket.
"Fine. Don't wake me when you get back. It's not a long walk, you're old enough to find your own way."
Dean watched as Sam strode out of the bar. When he turned away again, he realised that the woman of his dreams was looking right at him. As their eyes met, she smiled at Dean. Standing up from her bar stool, she made her way across to where he sat. Mesmerised, forgetting all about Sam, Dean never took his eyes off her as she approached.

When she finally spoke, the husky tone of her voice raised the tiny hairs on the back of Dean's neck.
"I saw your friend leave. Guess that means we're both here alone. Mind if I join you? No point in both of us having no one to talk to."
The woman was already sitting herself down next to Dean as she spoke. Dean suddenly remembered to breath, and to blink.
"He's my brother and, no, I mean yes...no. Sorry, no. I don't mind at all. Erm...My name's Dean."
The woman held out a slender hand with perfectly manicured nails to Dean.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dean. My name's Diana."
Internally Dean cringed as he heard himself say,
"Diana? That's a beautiful name. Diana was the name of the Goddess of the Hunt, although I'm guessing you already knew that?"
Diana leaned close, her lips mere inches from Dean's ear, her warm breath tickled when she spoke.
"Yes, I know that Dean. And tonight? Guess who my prey is."

Dean had no control, and Southern States Dean immediately began to react. To both the woman's closeness, and to the image of he and the woman getting even friendlier. Dean very nearly moaned, his desire for Diana so strong and overpowering; his voice was reduced to a low growl.
"You won't find me running away Diana. I'm an easy catch."
Diana moved even closer, her lips brushing against Dean's ear as she whispered,
"I know."

XXX

Present :

Dean's eyes fluttered open, confusion flared briefly when the darkness stayed, and then just as quickly he didn't care again. It didn't matter. Why should it? His limbs lay limp against the mattress, his body was nearing the point of starting to gradually shut down, each organ on the brink of beginning to fail. Dean drifted again into unconsciousness.

XXX

Previous :

Diana insisted on one more drink before they leave. Dean had taken the opportunity to enjoy watching her rear view as she walked toward the bar, admiring the sheer grace of her movements, the slenderness of her waist, the curve of her hips, the way the soft, pale blue wool of her finely knitted dress clung to the swell of her backside.

Whilst she stood at the bar waiting for the barmaid to pour their drinks, Diana looked back over her shoulder at Dean. With a knowing smile she trailed a hand slowly over the mounds of her own buttocks. Dean groaned softly, feeling himself becoming harder, having to shift on the seat to ease the discomfort caused by his jeans. His eyes openly and hungrily travelled over Diana's entire body as she returned with two glass tumblers, both holding a generous amount of whisky.

Even as he accepted the glass proffered by Diana, Dean recognised that it wasn't a good idea. He could imagine Sam's lecture, how he would be pointing out what a dumb move it was to be drinking so much alcohol on an empty stomach, how he would dehydrate himself, how much quicker the alcohol would effect him, and how ill it would leave him feeling.

Whilst all relevant, the uppermost thought in Dean's mind was that he didn't want to risk any embarrassment, or possible humiliation, in this beautiful woman's eyes by becoming staggering drunk. For that reason alone he took a small sip from his glass as he and Diana saluted each other, then put his whiskey down on the table and left it there, focusing his attention on trying to find out more about the vision sat at his side, and having no intention of drinking any more.

Diana was easy to talk to, however she was far more interested in talking about Dean than she was in answering questions about herself. Dean gave the story about he and Sam having lost their parents in a house fire and deciding to take time out by going on a road trip together. About how they planned to simply spend a year driving across America, going wherever the fancy took them. He found himself telling her how much he loved his brother, and also how much they could get on each other's nerves.

Diana was an empathetic and active listener, sitting close enough for their legs to rub against each other, resting her hand on Dean's thigh and pinning him down with the intense blue of her eyes. Conversation gave way to soft, slow kisses; their bodies moving ever closer. As their exploration became more intense, Diana glanced at Dean's untouched whiskey.

"How about you finish your drink and we move the action back to my place?"
Dean brushed her throat with his lips, breathing in her heady scent of Jasmine and spices.
"Lets just get out of here. I'm done with the drink."
Diana pulled away from him with a gentle laugh. Picking up Dean's glass, she held it to his lips.
"It's a crime to leave it. I would have to punish you. Drink up."
She tilted the glass and Dean duly drank.

Sat in the front passenger seat of Diana's Mercedes, they had only been on the road for a few minutes when the drugs lacing Dean's whiskey kicked in and he slumped unconscious against the car door. Diana smiled. Reaching over she began to stroke Dean's hair as she drove into the night.

XXX

Present :

Dean stirred at the sensation of a gentle hand lightly caressing his stomach, a soft noise came from his own dry throat, his head turned a fraction.
"Shhhhhhh"
A small frown creased Dean's forehead in response to the sound, as the glide of the hand continued. Confused, weak, Dean tried to twist away from the hand's touch. Another hand grasped his hip firmly, stopping his attempts to move.
"Relax little one...Hush now."

The voice was female, vaguely familiar. Somewhere in his mind he recognised the scent of Jasmine and spice, but he couldn't focus on why. Dean tried to open his eyes, couldn't. His whole body felt heavy, racked with hurt. Then abruptly, the sensation of the hand whispering against his skin changed. All Dean's movement froze as something cold, replacing the warmth of the hand, came to rest against his stomach, pressing against the flesh.
"That's right child. Still now, lay still my beautiful boy, my Endymion."

Another shift, the cold now feeling like the tip of an icicle. Dean's head turned again, he moaned. There was pain, just below his navel, sharp pain, pressure, increasing pressure. Ice turned into fire. Dean's body arched and he gasped. Something was being slowly driven deep, deeper, inside him. His abdominal muscles clenched tight against the hurt, against the intrusion.

There was a sigh, not his, followed by an unexpected thrust. Over Dean's cry of anguish, there was a new voice. Sammy? The sound of the new voice was followed by an enraged twist, the blade suddenly thrust deep, to it's hilt.

Dean heard his own choked off groan, heard the other..Is that you Sammy?..shout Nooo! Then, nothing...

xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx

Please don't feel afraid to review, it helps to know whether it was worth it or not!

Chick xx