This is a completely random idea that popped into my head. I own it, but I do NOT own Supernatural, its characters, or anything associated with said show. Reviews are welcome. Enjoy.

Rescue Me

Prologue

Cold. Sam Winchester was cold and in pain. He could hardly feel any of his extremities, and his head throbbed. Prying his eyes open, he looked around at his position. He was on the floor of some dank and dingy basement. His right wrist ached as he tried to move it. He managed to strain a glance to it, and noted that there was a pair of handcuffs attached to it, and a thick pipe behind him. He was lying on his left side, which hurt just the same. He attempted to pick his head up to glance around the room, but was unable to move it. He found that his sandy hair was stuck to the floor due to a large pool of blood that flowed out from an apparent wound on his head. Groaning, he reached his left arm up, finding that pain shot through his body as he did so, and yanked it free from the floor. He started to push himself from the ground, but was unsuccessful. After about the third time, he was able to shakily sit up. He leaned back against the cold wall behind him, and tried to keep himself conscious. When he gained some of his bearings, things began to run through his head. How did he get here? Where was here? And where was Dean?

Dean. Where was Dean?

Sam felt a pang deep within his gut as he thought that Dean might very well be dead, but something inside him said otherwise. He attempted to stand up. It took quite a bit of effort, but with the help of the pipe, he managed to rise from the ground. More pain shot through him as his legs began to work. For the first time, he noted a smell that wafted up his nasal passages. It smelled like… rotting flesh. He felt a lurch in his stomach, and before he could stop himself, he'd lost anything he'd eaten all over the floor to his immediate left. Gagging a couple more times, he got a hold on himself, and was able to ignore the smell. He limped forward some, feeling a bit like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and attempted to peer out the small, dirty window on the door. He could see nothing, but decided he didn't like the feeling of this place. It reminded him somewhat of the asylum he and Dean had been in just weeks before. That was a memory he didn't want to remember. Of course, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to it, and he found himself thinking of the occurrences in that asylum.

What was going through his head? Sam honestly had no idea. When the crazy doctor used that electroshock on his brain, he'd gone completely nuts with overwhelming feelings; and these weren't happy bunny and unicorn feelings either… these were feelings of pain, sorrow, and hate. He had started to hate his older brother. He thought that all the feelings of resentment for his family had been locked away in a box within his head, but he supposed that the ghost did something weird to him. The feelings were unleashed, and Dean was in their way. Dean, lying on the floor with a chest full of rock salt, had handed him a pistol. He'd claimed it was loaded, and Sam believed it. He'd held it above his brother, who was fearless the whole time, and pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. Dean had been smart enough to unload it before giving it to his little brother, and Sam was pissed. But Dean had saved the day again. Even with the doctor trying to make him crazy, he'd managed to burn the corpse, and everything was back to normal. But Sam knew that Dean wasn't okay; he knew that his big brother would have to live with the fact that Sam would've killed him, had the gun been loaded. And Sam was sorry for that.

Sam gripped onto the pole in an attempt to keep his balance as he heard locks clicking on the other side of the door. Somebody was coming. He looked around for something to defend himself with, but saw nothing he could use… nothing at all. He was defenseless, and this thing was probably going to kill him. No, he couldn't let it happen. He had to survive; he had to tell Dean that he didn't mean it, that he was sorry for even thinking those things; he couldn't die here.

The door slowly swung open with a rusty squeak, revealing some sort of being in the doorway. It was tall, probably somewhere near seven foot, and terribly skinny. Its eye sockets were empty, and its nose was practically non-existent. It hadn't opened its mouth yet, but judging by the razor-like fingers, its teeth were probably just as sharp. Sam eyed the open doorway hopefully, but he knew that he wasn't going anywhere as long as this creature was in his way. It walked close and peered down at the youngest Winchester boy.

"What-what do you want?"

It said nothing.

"C-come on, answer m-me! Wha-what do you want?"

Still, the beast said nothing. But this time, it let out a growl and bared its teeth. Each one was about two inches in length, and they were like miniature daggers. Saliva flew from its mouth and smacked Sam in the face; more of that scent followed. Gagging, he wiped the spit off of his face. He looked down at his hand. The goop was black and sticky, and smelled excruciatingly rank. He peered up to the thing again, and it glared down with its empty eyes. He could have sworn he saw it smirk.

"It is none of your business what I want."

Sam arched both of his eyebrows high, "Excuse me, but I think that since I'm the one who has been kidnapped, it's plenty my business."

"Silence!"

Sam closed his mouth immediately. Every time the thing spoke more of the disgusting saliva flew from its mouth, and he had to wipe it off of a different part of his upper portion. He was reminded of an orc from the Lord of the Rings movies. He'd read the books when he was just a boy, and saw the movies with Jessica in the theaters. This thing was definitely orc-ish… well, in its attitude anyway.

There was an awkward silence between the pair, and Sam decided to speak again, "Who are you?"

The creature yelled at Sam, telling him to shut up again. Finally, it decided that it didn't want to deal with the boy anymore. It grabbed Sam's throat tightly and squeezed. Sam grasped the burnt hands and tried to pry them away from his throat, but it was way too strong. He began to feel himself turning colors as he was deprived of oxygen. He became light-headed, his vision blurred, but then it let him go. For some reason, it decided that it didn't want to kill him. Sam collapsed onto the floor, and everything went black.

Please R& R. Next part will be up soon!