No spoilers as long as you know who Castiel is. Later chapters will be very M due to violence and sexy times. I'm not sure how regularly I'll be updating this so sorry if there are some gaps. Hope you like it!

Dean woke up and peeled his eyes open; it felt like they'd been shut for years. He kept them carefully squinted against what he perceived to be a harsh white light. As his irises adjusted to the brightness Dean opened his eyes more and got his first real glimpse of his surroundings. Turning his head around he observed crude stone walls and the only light was coming from torches held on the wall, now that his eyes were accustomed to the light he realized that it was actually quite dim. He was in a large circular room with hallways branching off in every direction, looking up he saw that there were actually several floors to the room which could be accessed by a series of steep stone steps that didn't have so much as a rail protecting whoever might be using them.

Dean had no idea where he was but one thing was certain, it was immense. He moved to get up but found that his limbs felt stiff and unused and he was lying in the fetal position on the bare ground. He carefully stretched out all his muscles joints popping and that wonderful pain of extending a muscle beyond its everyday use. Time to figure out what the fuck was going on.

If Dean was anything it was a man of action. Nothing could be solved from him just sitting on the ground staring at a wall. He got up and checked himself for weapons. Damn, whatever bastards had kidnapped him had done a damn good job of unarming him. If he ever found those sons of bitches he was going to make them pay. Even the small blade he kept in his sock was gone.

So he was unarmed, it wasn't the end of the world. He'd had worse odds, like when the world had actually been ending. He got up dusted himself off and removed the closest torch from a wall in a pinch he could definitely use it to defend himself not to mention help him see down one of the many corridors that convened on the room which dean had decided was probably a tower, much like the ones he'd seen in books about medieval castles.

"Sam!" Dean called into the unresponsive expanse "Cas!" Though his voice echoed impressively off the walls there was no way of knowing how large the structure that he was being held captive in was and it seemed highly unlikely that anyone would be able to hear him, much less Sam or Cas. He'd simply have to find the others.

He remembered that he, Sam, and Cas had been hunting together. It was a mysterious case involving several people succumbing to comas for no apparent reason. The brothers had never encountered anything like it before and called for backup. Unfortunately according to Cas there were several creatures it could be and without more information there was no way of knowing.

He began to walk down the closest hallway holding the torch aloft. On either side the walls were packed with a myriad of different doors. There were doors made of metal, wood, stone and they came in every size, shape and color. There were torches at regular intervals along the hallway that seemed to go on into infinity. Well shit, one of these doors had to be the way out. As far as Dean could tell he was on the bottom floor of the structure. He shrugged his shoulder and opened the first door on his right, he had to start somewhere.

A rush of wind blew out the torch in Dean's hand. It was cold, damn cold. The ground was covered in snow and there were pine trees as far as the eye could see. Yes! Exit on the first try, now if only he could find out where the hell he was. Something seemed off about his surroundings somehow, like a small voice at the back of his mind saying wrong over and over again.

Clutching the extinguished torch like a baseball bat he slowly advanced, muscles tense and ready. His eyes were scanning the tree line for movement when he noticed footprints leading to his left. Bending down he noticed they were from a barefoot man. The guy had balls walking around barefoot in the dead of winter, at this thought the voice in Dean's head screamed wrong!

Shaking off the feeling dean began to follow the tracks into the forest. He'd gone about 400 feet when he noticed something that put his senses on red alert, the human footprints abruptly changed to dog paw prints.

Fuck! There wasn't a scrap of silver on him. Goddamn those bastards! They could've at least left his knife. Feeling exposed as hell he trudged on. Maybe he could get the jump on it and interrogate it. He was after all fairly confident in his fighting abilities.

As he followed the paw prints through the snow he came upon a clearing, there in the middle was a ferocious looking grey wolf. At the sound of his feet crunching through the snow it turned, its eyes fixed on his.

Dean felt a weight in his hand, cool metal pressed against his palm. He'd recognize the feel anywhere, his gun. He didn't know how it happened but right now it didn't matter. He raised the muzzle and aimed it straight at the monster's head.

His index finger pressed lightly on the trigger but just as he was about to pull something made him stop. There was something in its eyes. Resignation, it wasn't trying to attack. Come to think of it both the human and the wolf tracks had been widely spaced suggesting it had been running. He realized suddenly that it had been running from him.

Dean lowered the barrel slightly. The wolf form shuddered the fur along its body began to retract. The limbs grew longer and fuller and the digits extended to elegant fingertips. Everything about the creature was morphing in front of him, everything except the eyes. They stayed the same.

It was a young woman. She sat naked in the snow shivering, her breath heaving from the exertion of running away from Dean. She bowed her head and Dean could hear her softly sobbing relief clear in the way she held her body. Dean moved forward preparing to take off his jacket and hand it to her.

"Stop! Son don't move any closer!" a deep voice called out in earnest.