Sam flinched as a twig snapped under his boot. Dean turn to glare at his younger brother. Both had had their nerves rubbed raw by the morbid trail a pack of demons had left in their wake. At each warehouse they had found a man or woman in their mid twenties, thin, pale, with black hair, blue eyes and high cheek bones. Each one had been torched to death then left to rot. In their blood lay a clue to where the monsters were heading next.

Both men steeled themselves for what they would find inside the abandoned building. Both moved as one, poised to kill in case any were left. The kitchen was the first sign that something was different. In all the past houses it had been clean and precise, nothing left behind. Now, however, it was a wreck. Plates stacked in the sink, rotting food on the table. A blood stained jacket hung from one chair, frayed rope from another. Sam and Dean exchanged a look. They might have a chance this time. Moving through the house they saw more evidence of it being lived in, confirming their hopes. They cleared the main floor then went to the basement door. A cackle broke through the worn wood followed by others, then a loud smack. Sam reached for the handle but Dean stopped him. Wait to see how many there are. Sam nodded.

"we finally found 'em, boys. The big man 'em self. Not so powerful now, are ya." the man's comment brought another chorus of laughter. Three, maybe four of them. "just look at 'em. Nothing. Couldn't even save that pathetic wimp Arthur. He's in Hell ya know. He blames you for everything. He said you lied to him. And now he never wants to see you again. I reckon that the pain he's goin through right now ain't nothing compared to your betrayal, ya worthless git." a low chuckle filled the silence, almost covering the muted whimper of their captive. " Jade, Carl, get cleaning. I'm gonna leave a message for those idiot Winchester boys tellin 'um they lost our little game. We godda get this meat sack to the boss and collect our spoils, ain't that right." they grumbled their reply, upset that they won't be there for the final message. Beside the torture, it was the best part.

The boys readied themselves at his words, pressing their backs beside the doorframe. It swung open and two people stepped out, quietly arguing. Dean padded up behind them and drove the blade into the womans tan back, severing the spinal cord. She was dead before she hit the floor. Yanking the knife out of her crumpling corps he lunged at the second demon. After a quick struggle he plunged his weapon into his belly to the hilt. The man's eyes glazed over and he two dropped to the ground. Dean pulled the knife from the man and wiped the blood off on his jacket.

While Dean had been taking care of the others, Sam and slipped down the old steps and killed the last of them. Both men finished about the same time. Dean slid down the stairs, much like Sam had done. Before them stretched a large room, about as big as the house had been. One light weak light flickered in each of the corners. Blood stained the floor and lower walls. A table stood off to the side heaped with used tools. Chains hung from the walls and ceiling. A steady drip drip echoed around the bare walls. Death seemed to linger through each sent. Blood. Sweat. Vomit. Waste. In the center of the room, a boy sat hunched in a chair bolted to the ground. His thick black hair dripped with sweat and blood. His hands, which had been bound to the chair, seemed to be the only thing holding the kid up.

Sam and Dean rush forward. Dean to his bonds while Sam made sure he was alive. He lifted the boys head up seeing the gag restricting his breathing and a huge bruise covering half of his face, evidence of being hit. It was and older bruise, already healing. Sam frowned. That meant it had been there before the Demons nabbed him. A snap drew him from his thoughts just in time to catch the young man. Shifting it so the kids sat in a bridal hold against his body, he reached over and pulled the gag down, knowing that later he would remove it. Dean came by his side and gave him and his temporary charge a once over then began to head for the door.

"Let's get outta here, Sammy. We need to patch that kid up." Dean called over his shoulder, sounding almost nervous. He needed no other prompting. Sam rose to his feet, grunting under the extra weight yet was surprised by how light the man in his arms was. He followed his brother in exiting the building and couldn't help the feeling that there was more to the kid he was carrying. He looked up at the low purr of an engine he knew well. The Impala. A slight smile tweaked at his features when he saw his brother in the driver's seat, obviously trying to cover his worry. A low groan escaped the man in his arms wiping the grin from his face and replacing it with worry. He lay the man down across the back seat the lept into the passenger's side.

Dean drove as fast as he dared with an injured passenger. He needed to get away from the house as fast as possible. Something big was looking for the kid. It wanted him alive. There was something about him that made him valuable and Dean was going to find out what. Throughout the entire drive he kept staring at his limp for in the rear view mirror. Only when they pulled into the parking lot of their motel did he speak.

"Sam, get the kid inside and try to patch him up. I'm gonna see if there are any records of him in the town." Sam nodded and, after picking up the boy in the backseat, demon killing knife, and rifle, headed inside. Once his tall form had slipped inside the door, Dean was off. Speeding down the road to the police station. After finding no missing persons reports from anywhere in the state to match his description he drove back to the hotel at a much slower pace. Who was this kid? Why did a demon want him so badly? Where did he come from? The questions kept swirling around in his head creating a headache. Before he knew It the was pulling into the motel's parking lot again. It was around 10:15. he had been gone and hour. Parking his baby in the space outside of their room he groaned. Why couldn't he just be cool with the kid? Because he was trained as a soldier and a soldier never leaves questions unanswered the little voice answered him. His eyes blurred and he lay his head against the cool steering wheel. Just then it hit him that Sam would have put the kid in his bed and Dean being a good older brother would force him into the other bed leaving Dean the floor or bathtub.

"Son of a bitch!" He cursed as he hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. He slid out of the seat and slammed the door behind him, momentarily considering leaving Sam the tub. He had really been looking forward to a bed tonight. The cool air caressed his exposed neck, calming him before entering the room. Twin beds stood in each corner. On the opposite wall a crappy TV sat on an old chest of drawers. The bathroom door stood off to the side. Magazines and weapons covered the first bed, some halfway cleaned. Right before him a line of salt lay, matching the lines on all the windows. Deans green eyes locked onto the second bed where Sam sat, his back to the door, leaning over the kid.

He coughed, alerting his brother to his presence. Sam spun then relaxed at the sight of his brother.

"Dean" he breathed. He looked back at the kid then returned his gaze to his brother. " Come over here." He said beckoning him over with his hand, " Take a look at this."

Dean slid over to where his brother sat and peered over his shoulder. The kid lay still on the bed, head wrapped and tilted away from him. His lanky arms covered in gashes. He wore a tattered blue t-shirt, worn brown pants and a blood red neckerchief. His shoes had been removed and burned covered both his feet and hands. Scars littered his torso, both new and old, from what he could see through the tears. His upper arm had been bandaged as has his thigh. Looking back up at his face he saw the bruise and came to the same conclusion Sam had. A frown spread on his lips. It made no sense. On one wrist a rusted manacle covered in strange markings unfamiliar to him. This too puzzled him. He turned and cocked and eyebrow at his brother.

"I couldn't get it off. It seemed to tighten around his wrist every time I tried." Dean nodded and looked back at the kids pained expression. " Have you ever seen markings like that before?" Dean shook his head

"And get this, there's no record of him existing in this state." Dean's eyes narrowed as he spoke. Sam stared at him, his features unreadable.

"What now, Dean?"

"We wait for him to heal."

"And after that?"

"I don't know."