DISCLAIMER: The characters of Sam and Dean Winchester belong to Eric Kripke. I do not own any characters, and/or story lines that are recognized in the show.

MALICE IN WONDERLAND
Written by Innocenta

Alright this is my first attempt at trying my hand at writing fan fiction. Until now it has just been my own stories/characters that are my own idea and not based on a television show. However have to branch out, don't I? I hope you will enjoy this, and don't worry I'm a fast update. This story takes place in Season 3, so yeah there are spoilers.
-Author's note.

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-Prologue-

Where's Dean?

That was all Sam Winchester could think about. His heart beat fast against his chest, making it feel like it was about it rip clean from his flesh. He looked around, dazed and worried because he could not see Dean anywhere. Sam could have sworn he had seen the guy turn down this street, but clearly he must have been imagining things because Dean was nowhere in sight.

Sam could not wrap his head around the whole situation he was in. Why had Dean been so stubborn? Why had his big brother insisted on going after this demon by himself? It was a careless idea, something Dean had been doing a lot of lately. Dean figured "hey I'm dead in a year what difference does it make if I die in battle anyway."

Sam had grown tired of his brother's new self sacrificing nature. Besides was it not Dean that had once said to Sam that nothing was worth dying over? Dean had been a hypocrite, and Sam just prayed silently to himself that his rouge decision to go after a powerful demon by himself had not ended in his death.

Never less, though, Sam would not give up hope. He would keep looking for Dean, he was bound to be around somewhere. He had to be—or perhaps that was just Sam trying not to grip his hands around the reality that maybe, somehow Dean's self destructive streak had finally come to an end.

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"What do you mean he's gone!?" Bobby asked, gapping at Sam. The hunter wore an expression of pure concern and angst.

"I did not mean dead if that's what your thinking." Sam retorted. He had raised his voice at Bobby. He had not meant to rasie his voice, but it was not something he was going tp say he was sorry for either. Dean was missing, and the longer he and Bobby sat there with their thumbs up their asses the shorter amount of time Dean had left. Dean was not dead, Sam would not believe it until he saw his older brother's lifeless body to prove otherwise.

"So this demon..." Bobby begun but was not able to finish his sentence because Sam cut him off mid way.

"This demon takes people, that's what it does." Sam answered, before Bobby could finish. "It finds someone, I don't think it matters who and drags their bodies God knows where, where it does God knows what to them." Sam was saying this all in stern tone, he thought that perhaps if he concentrated hard on the hatred he had for this demon he had never seen or heard of before then maybe it divert his concern away from Dean's sudden disappearance into thin air.

"How long have you been tracking this thing?" Bobby asked Sam.

Sam folded his arms firmly against his chest, pursing his lips. "What difference does it make?" he asked rather coldly. "My brother is missing. I have to find him."

Bobby frowned. "No Sam, we have to figure out what we're up against before we go up against it."

Sam was not listening to these words, all he could think about, all he cared about was finding Dean at this point nothing else in the world mattered to him more.

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He was falling.

Dean's eyes were frozen open, he could not blink, he could not move his own body. His head was spinning, the whole world around him was spinning. He could not see much around him expect a whole heap of darkness, but it felt like something was pulling him, pulling him closer and closer to something. He just did not't know what.

Dean did not't really remember much, either, the last he thing he remembered seeing, hearing was a demon, a young man that had had entirely black eyes, a demonic possession, he had chased it down a street. He remembered almost getting hit by a car as he had been forced to dart all over the place trying to get his hands around that son of a bitches throat.

The demon, it must have done something to him, because the last thing he remembered before this sudden head haze was touching it. Dean had barely even made contact with the demon's skin. What had to done? Where was he now?

Dean was swimming now, he could feel his body again, he was floating in something, some kind of think liquid. It smelled, smelled like blood. He could not move any muscle in his body except move his eyes around. He looked around him, frightened, confused, he was swimming in a pool of blood. But how, and where had to come from? All these questions started circulating in his mind. Questions he did not't even have the answer too. He tried to move his hands, his legs, he did not't want to be in blood, he wanted to get out of wherever the hell he was, he wanted to get back to Sam.

Sam.

The thought of his younger brother came into his mind. Sam must be worried sick about him, and to think that last thing Dean had said to him before storming off to go after a demon that did not't even know the M.O of was "I hate you." These words brought tears to Dean's eyes, he did not't mean it, of course he did not't mean it. But some part of him must have, after all he had said it Had not't he.

Great, and to think he was being sucked into another dimension of some kind, swimming in blood, having to feel cold corpses floating around him, made his desire to talk to Sam again much more greater. He had to see his younger brother, tell him he was sorry. He had to do something, he could not just leave it at "I hate you."

Dean could feel something pulling him again, this time whatever it was was much stronger. It felt like he was being sucked down a giant whirlpool. Hey, maybe he was, the thought of the demon throwing him down some giant toilet was quite a amusing but highly unlikely. Dean could move his legs again, sensation was coming back, but it was not't over yet. In fact Dean had a nasty feeling that whatever was happening, wherever he would end up would be far worse than a pool of blood and dead floating bodies.

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With an enormous thud, Dean landed on something—something hard, yet soft. It was grass.

Still lying, spread eagled like he had just fallen from the sky, Dean's eyes snapped open. Everything was a blur, though only for the first thirty seconds, after that his vision seemed to come back. He slowly sat up, his head aching, his limbs caning, he looked around. Nothing about his surroundings seemed at all familiar to him. He was lying in the middle of a deserted street, in fact the more he looked around he more the place seemed familiar to him as the street he had chased the demon down. But something was off. The street before had been clean, filled with cars and people with shopping bags crossing the road. But now it was different, there were no cars, no people, and all the little shops and diner he had seen before were all boarded up, some were no longer even there, just a large pile of splintered wood and broken window glass. Something was wrong, big time and for one, before it had been daytime—no later than noon, lunchtime, now it was pitch black, midnight at the earliest. What the hell was going on? What the hell had happened? What did that demon do to the world?

Carefully, slowly, Dean began to rise on two feet.

"Hey, you!" a voice called from behind him, causing Dean to fall back to the ground again.

With a loud moan Dean landed on the road on his backside, his tail bone hurt like mad. He glanced around him to see who had called out to him. He spotted them—and it was them too, five men, all armed, all glaring at him—their eyes entirely black and all them had the guns cocked and pointed in his direction.

They were demons, and he was screwed as all hell.

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