A/N: Ok...here it is... my attempt at less angst and more humor. Maybe it's sarcastic humor but it's humor. :P Humor has never been easy for me so I'm hoping I did ok. Feedback, as always is not only welcome it's craved! :)
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Want to... but don't.
He opened his eyes reluctantly. The cold stone beneath his back was the first clue that he wasn't in Kansas anymore. He turned his head to examine his surroundings and his vision went red with the sudden pain. Yeah, this wasn't good. When his vision cleared again he found that opening his eyes wasn't the help he thought it would be. Wherever he was it was pitch black and he couldn't see a damn thing. He felt like he'd been run over with a Mack truck and searched his memory trying to figure out how he had gotten here.
The last thing he remembered was walking out to the Impala. He was going on a beer run. Damn, it! Someone must have nailed him in the head with something. But who? And why? How did anyone sneak up on him? More importantly, what did they do with his baby? They better not have touched his car or there would be hell to pay.
Then another thought hit him. Sam. Where was Sam? Was he here? Was he still in the motel? Did he even know that he was gone yet? He held his breath for a moment trying to listen for any sound that he may not be alone. There was nothing.
"Hello… anyone here? Come out, come out wherever you are… Ollie Ollie oxen free!"
Getting no response meant one of two things. Either he was truly alone and Sam was safe back at the motel or… Sam was here and couldn't answer. He would have to hope for the first option. His first priority had to be figuring out how badly he was injured and how to get free from whatever was holding him down. Only one way to check for injuries in this condition. He went about the practice of attempting to move each limb and waited for any sign of pain or discomfort.
It appeared that the only injury was to his head, and his pride, he still couldn't believe that someone had got the jump on him. Thank God for small favors. If he could free himself from this mess then there shouldn't be any physical reason he couldn't get out of here. He knew it was likely, from the reaction to moving his head, that he had a concussion at the least. He wasn't holding his breath that his host was going to be coming back with a bottle of aspirin and a beer.
He realized that as he had been checking for injuries his eyes had begun to adjust somewhat to the darkness. He figured he must be underground maybe a root cellar. No windows but he could see a faint line of light coming from under the door that must lead to the rest of the basement.
He was flat on his back on the concrete floor. One wrist seemed to be handcuffed to some kind of shelving unit against the near wall while the other was cuffed to what looked like a utility table on the opposite wall. Great, handcuffs…it couldn't be nice simple ropes, no, whoever had grabbed him liked the hardware apparently.
He could move his legs which was a plus but with his arms stretched out the way they were he had very little chance of getting any leverage underneath him. He was glad the cellar was small or he would have been doing a pretty good Stretch Armstrong impersonation by now. It was then that he realized that his jacket was gone. In fact…now that he was paying attention, most of his clothes were gone. What the hell? It's not bad enough to grab a guy and cuff him in the root cellar? You have to leave him with nothing but his boxers?
Crap…not only did that mean he was getting cold quickly but it meant that any tools he might have used to try to get out of the cuffs were somewhere else…in his jacket. Calling Cas wasn't going to work. Ever since they added the protection from Angel Vision he had only been able to get to Cas through his cell…which was also in his jacket. He tried pulling on the cuffs to see if there was any give at either end. No such luck, whoever had built this place had solid carpentry skills.
Before he could try to formulate another plan he heard footsteps. It sounded like they were coming down stairs which confirmed the basement and root cellar theory at least. He heard the approach stop and the sound of something being dragged across the floor. Then he heard a soft grunt. One that sounded way too familiar. When the door opened the light that flooded the room caused a fresh wave of pain to run through his battered skull this time bringing with it the joy of nausea.
"Well, well, well. It looks like Sleeping Beauty has finally decided to rejoin the living. How ya doin' there Deano? Hope I didn't scramble your brains too badly. I really would hate for you to miss out on all the fun."
He opened his eyes as little as possible to combat the brightness. Through the slits he was able to see his captor. Damn! It was Frank Miller. This was getting better and better.
"Dude…What the Hell? This is how you thank us for trying to help you out? Really?" He couldn't believe it. "Next time try Hallmark. I hear they have a card for every occasion."
Frank had called earlier that week. He said that Dad had helped him out several years ago with a possession problem and that he needed their special brand of help again. They had arrived two days ago and begun an investigation into what they thought was a vengeful spirit. Apparently, they had been misled. Understatement of the century.
"Now Dean…I'm just not sure they make a card that covers our unique situation. Hmm… Let's see… Roses are red, Violets are blue…Don't try to escape Hell…It will come after you. Yes, I think that sums it up perfectly."
The wicked grin that accompanied the jibe was only overshadowed by the flash of black that replaced the normally brown eyes of what used to be Frank Miller. Shit… demons. Why did it always have to be demons? He kind of missed the old days sometimes. Kinda fucked up when you longed for the days when your worst problem was a Windigo.
"Yeah, don't quit your day job hell spawn. Is this your big plan? Chain me down and kill me with bad poetry?" His mind was racing trying to find an exit from this situation. He thought that maybe, if he could just keep the demon busy, it would give Sam time to find him. Of course, he would never live it down. Bad enough having your baby brother save your ass but to find him cuffed and damn near naked would be enough fuel for months of embarrassment.
"Oh no Dean. I have much more interesting plans for you. You see, we know why you were pulled from the pit. And let me tell you, not all of us are thrilled about the coming smack down between Lucifer and Michael. Some of us actually like the playground as it is. So, we've decided that the best way to keep it that way is to take away the only people that are a threat."
Well, he didn't see this one coming. He'd been so busy lately trying to figure out how to get the Angels off of his back that he hadn't even considered the fact that a demon death squad might be looking for him. Then it hit him… the bastard hadn't said person… he'd said people.
"Listen, you don't have to worry about that. I have no intention of being Michael's bitch and there is no way Lucifer is getting his hands on my brother. So, I'm glad we had this little heart to heart and if you don't mind, I'll be going now."
"Before the party? I don't think so Dean. That was just the first reason for our meeting. The second is more…personal. You see…I was the demon on guard when you were so rudely snatched from the flames. I don't have to tell you about the varied means of punishment they found fitting for my letting you escape. So, I'm sure you understand, I'm happy to help the effort to block the Apocalypse but getting a bit of payback is like a cherry on the sundae."
This was getting better by the minute. Not only did he have a demon who felt obligated to do his duty to his brethren but he had to get the guy that just got the equivalent to a demonic spanking by Daddy… Crap. He could only try to keep stalling. If he'd been unconscious for awhile then Sam was sure to be looking for him by now.
"Tsk, tsk. Dean. I see the look in your eyes. I didn't know you still had the capacity for hope. I guess we really didn't do our job well enough while you were with us. I'll have to take care of that before I send you back. I brought you a present."
He was getting the feeling that he wasn't going to like where this was headed.
"No offense but, if it's anything like the poetry, I'll pass."
As he watched, the demon stepped back from the doorway allowing for a straight line of sight into the rest of the basement. There, in the middle of the basement, was his brother. He appeared to be secured somehow (probably more cuffs if the demon was consistent) to a chair. There was a trail of blood dripping down from his scalp and his eyes looked a bit glassy.
"Sam! Sammy! Can you hear me?" He watched as his brother looked around in an attempt to focus on his surroundings. He knew the moment his brother had seen him. His eyes suddenly came into sharp focus and every muscle in his body tensed in an attempt to get up. He was trying to speak but the gag in his mouth wasn't allowing more than muffled grunts out.
"Hail, hail, the gang's all here. So let me tell you what we have planned for you two crazy kids tonight. " The demon glanced from brother to brother, his grin growing bigger by the second.
"At first I thought that maybe I'd just kill you both, quick and easy, and be done with it. But then, I realized that wouldn't be any fun at all. Then, I thought, I know, I'll torture poor little Sammy and make you sit there and watch. I know how much you would enjoy that show Dean."
Dean's heart stuttered in his chest. This was bad…really, really bad. He had to get Sam out of here somehow.
"But I finally realized. The most satisfying plan would be to torture you and while your baby brother there sits helplessly by. This way I get the double pleasure of watching you suffer while you get to watch him suffer through his helplessness. But first, there is something we have been wondering for quite awhile…"
Dean tried to calm himself. Ok… Lucifer wants Sam in one piece so there is always the chance that one of his crew might pop in and put a stop to this before the demon got done with him and moved onto Sam. Really…did I really just set my hopes on being saved by a minion of Lucifer? His train of thought was cut off abruptly by the sight of the very large and very sharp knife the demon was suddenly twirling idly between his fingers.
"I'm going to cut that lovely little tattoo of yours out of your chest and then we are going to see if that has any affect on your anti-possession status. I know there are plenty of my friends who would love a chance to play with you…or Sam…"
The demon knelt down on the floor next to him. He knew what was coming and tried his best not to scream as the knife cut across his abdomen. The cut wasn't deep enough to kill but it hurt like hell and would definitely need stitches if he got out of this.
"Aww….Dean…come on now, this isn't going to be any fun if you don't scream. Why do you think you aren't gagged?" He punctuated his question with a quick stab of the knife to his shoulder. This time Dean couldn't hold in the scream.
He could see Sam struggling desperately against whatever was holding him tied to that chair but knew that he would never be able to get free in time to stop this. He had to keep the demon's attention, maybe he could wear him out and save Sam from the same fate.
"Is that he best you got? Really, I've had worse cuts than that shaving. Somehow I just get the feeling your heart isn't in this… I'm hurt. Really."
That did it. He could see the rage flare across the demon's face. He knew that the next cut wasn't going to be one he would walk away from. He locked eyes with his brother and waited for the pain.
As the knife cut into his skin, just above the protection tattoo, he heard a familiar sound. For a moment he thought he must be dreaming. There was no way that he could have found them here…but there he was, their Angel in an overcoat. Suddenly standing beside Sam, his face twisted in what Dean could only describe as Holy Wrath.
Before he knew it Cas' Angel mojo had blasted the demon from sight, hopefully from this universe. He breathed a sigh of relief and then groaned as the effort of taking a deep breath brought fresh pain to the slit across his stomach. He watched Cas bend behind his brother and then saw Sam pull his hands free and jump to his feet.
They both came to him together; one dropping to his knees to put pressure on his wounds while the other did whatever it is that Angels do to unlock handcuffs. He really needed to learn that trick…
"Dean…Dean…hey… look at me… are you ok? Damn it Cas…can't you do anything to help him?"
"I'm sorry Sam. You know I cannot. We must get him back to the motel and you can do your first aid on him. I do not believe his wounds are mortal. Here, let me help you get him up."
As they lifted him to his feet, throwing one of his arms around each of their necks he stumbled between them. Crisis averted… in the nick of time… he really was getting tired of the Hail Mary plays but he wasn't in any shape to complain about it now. That reminded him…
"Cas…not that I'm not grateful or anything but… how did you find us? I thought you were blocked like the rest of the Holy Avengers?"
The Angel smiled, and if he didn't know better he would have said he smiled sheepishly, but… really… can Angels smile sheepishly?
"I called and neither one of you answered your phones. It was quite disturbing. It is highly unlike you to not answer my call. Thankfully Sam has taught me what to do when that happens."
Dean stopped between them and looked from one to the other. His brother was grinning at Cas.
"And what exactly did he teach you?" Dean was almost afraid to ask.
"You see Dean. Apparently there is something called GPS which enables one to locate missing items. Sam programmed in a button on my cell phone that allowed me to request that Susan, a very nice young lady, you would like her Sam, assist me in locating your telephone. She was able to tell me exactly where to find your phone, and by extension, you. " Cas smiled, obviously proud of his accomplishment.
"That does it Sam. If you can teach the guy who doesn't grasp voice mail how to call for GPS info then I guess I'll let you teach me how to use that damn laptop of yours…but, I think that will have to wait until tomorrow… I'm pretty sure I'm going to pass out n…."
His last thought was… "Angels using GPS… that has to be the final sign of the Apocalypse… " and then the blackness overtook him.