Dean let out a small breath, eyes closing tightly shut as his head throbbed. He tried to bring his arm up to rub at the back of his head but his eyes immediately opened when he realized that he couldn't bring his arms up.

Dean jostled forward, making the chair he was sitting in scoot forward slightly, wood scraping against the ground. He felt a bit of panic start to well inside of him when he finally saw that his arms were tied tightly to his sides with rope.

Slowly memories started to come back to him in pieces. He had finished his work at the shop and had started to walk home. It was a warm day with nice weather so he hadn't driven to work, choosing to walk instead. He had been debating to either buy some food or make something at home when pain erupted from behind him and he fell to the ground.

Someone had knocked him out, dragged him, he quickly glanced around, gritting his teeth when the motion made his vision spin for a moment, and he had been taken somewhere he had no idea where. They were in a warehouse somewhere and Dean couldn't see any familiar signs or hints of where it was.

It didn't make sense, especially not when he could still feel his wallet in his side pocket. If it was a mugging then all they would've done was take his belongings before leaving him in an alleyway or something. If they wanted to kill him they would've done it back then as well, when he was helpless and unconscious.

Which only meant one thing, they wanted to hurt him. They were going to kill him and make it hurt and make him scream before they finished it and they had wanted to do it somewhere away from other people.

A part of him knew and accepted that fate, another part of him was telling him that he had watched too many horror movies and needed to keep his head on straight to try to think of a way to get out of here.

A third part of him told him that his parents weren't going to be able to handle this, losing the only son they had left. They barely managed to hold together with Sams disappearance years ago, looking towards Dean for the knowledge that at least they still had one son and now, they were going to lose him too.

God he hoped that they were going to be okay. If he was religious he would send up a prayer to heaven but he knew that there was no one listening there. His thoughts went to his parents and he felt his chest tighten a bit more at the thought of them learning about his death.

His mind told him to stop being so pessimistic, he wasn't dead yet and he could still have a chance to get out of it if he just focused.

Before he could think or try to figure things out, a small bit of movement caught the corner of his eyes and he turned to his left to see someone standing there, leaning against a crate of wooden boxes, staring at him.

Most likely they had been watching him the entire time, watching him have his mental freak out, so that meant they knew that he had been awake and was waiting for him to realize that they were there.

Dean tried not to think about what that was going to mean for him as he straightened up as best as he could, staring at the man in a flower as best as he could.

The man didn't seem bother or the slightest intimidated by Deans attempts, just staring at him not moving, seemingly not in any hurry to do a single thing.

Dean swallowed hard, noting how dry his throat was, and breathed in and out slowly, trying to match the man's stare, trying to get a hint of what he was thinking or what he was going to do.

The man seemed content to just stare at him, occasionally his eyes flickered up to the high level windows but then they went back to Dean, it didn't even seem like he blinked but Dean was sure that was just a trick of the light.

And Dean knew that it was another trick of light and darkness that made it look like the man had black eyes, his vision was playing with him and he couldn't focus completely because of the concussion he most likely had from the blow to the back of the head.

At some point Dean felt his patience start to thin more and more and he couldn't hold himself back anymore. "Alright listen, we can talk this out."

The man didn't move or even register that Dean had spoken, just staring at him.

"I got money and I'm sure my parents can add to that, you can have it. Or you can have whatever the hell you want." Dean continued, not liking that the man didn't seem to be listening to him, his eyes still looking towards the windows more. "We can talk this out like men, figure things out, work them out."

He might as well be talking to the wall, in fact he might get more from a wall as the paint dried on it. The man seemed to be made of stone from how little he moved, other than his not black eyes looking towards the window.

After what felt like an eternity the man finally moved, pushing off of the crates and straightening up a bit more. Dean was immediately on alert, willing himself not to even blink as the man slowly moved towards him. Before he could jerk back away from him the man reached him and reached out towards him, gripping at his chin to wrap a handkerchief around his mouth, stuffing it between his teeth and tying it behind his head.

Once he was muzzled enough the man leaned back and this time Dean couldn't ignore it or brush it off, the man's eyes were completely black, from pupil to sclera. They seemed like bottomless pits staring down at him and Dean fought the urge to shiver at them.

The man smirked at the bit of fear on Deans face and reached out to grip at his chin again, lip curling slightly over his teeth, barring them at him. He tightened his grip on Deans chin for a moment before he seemingly forced himself to let him go, stepping back and just staring at him before turning towards what Dean thought was the front of the warehouse.

Before Dean could try to think of what was happening he heard it, a whisper of the door being open and closed and footsteps on the ground, someone was coming in and trying to be discreet about it.

The man in front of Dean gave another smirk, despite the blackness covering his eyes completely it almost seemed like they were shining, and with that he moved away, towards the side of the incoming footsteps but towards it nonetheless.

There were a few seconds of silence that Dean swore his rapidly beating heart was audible despite everything when he heard the two come together.

From the sound of punches and groans from the both of them they were fighting and almost like they were fighting for their lives. He could hear the crates around them being jostled as the two were either slammed or pushed into them.

Dean jerked and tried to get out of his bindings, moving his arms and chest as much as he can to try to get them to budge. He could hear the man and whoever had come in rustling behind him, it sounded like they were fighting one another.

He tried not to think about what was happening, trying to focus on getting free when he heard the unmistakable sound of a knife being stabbed into someone. He heard a choked off almost scream and strangely enough the smell of sulfur filled the air for a moment. He heard a strange crackling sound before he the body fell to the ground.

He could hear someone breathing heavily and coming closer to him. He swallowed hard when the man reached out and, surprisingly, gently pulled the handkerchief out of his mouth and tugged it off of his neck.

The man walked around him to get to the front of him, kneeling down so that they were eye level enough to look at each other.

Whatever Dean was about to say fell away and all the breath in his body left in one single breath. His heart seemingly stopped for a moment before it start to pound harder and faster.

Older, filled with stress and premature hints to wrinkles, bags under his eyes, in need of a shave, too long hair that seemed to frame his thin face that fit him in a strange way.

It was his little brother Sam.

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