Dean didn't know what to do. He was always the one to carry out the decisions, not the one to think things totally though. He needed Sam. He truly did. Sam was his weakness, as was Dean to Sam; one couldn't survive without the other one. The two had their fair share of arguments but it was always solved one way or another. Now, with Sam being held captive somewhere, it drove Dean crazy. How far would he go to save his brother? He'd have to find out and this was the surefire way to reveal Dean's emotions which would run rampant later. Dean glanced at the alarm-turned-timer and saw it read 35:50:21 with seconds ticking down. He was wasting time just sitting there doing nothing, when Sam was out there… somewhere, dying.
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Sam's heart was racing, being stuck somewhere with no room to move at all. When he had first awoken in this place, there was a light ticking sound; now it was much louder, sounding like a grandfather clock's weight going back and forth. Maybe it was a crawl space of some sort. Something he could make his way out of. Sam slid his body, head moving first but was stopped quickly when he banged his head on the inside of what ever he was in. It definitely wasn't a quiet thud. Sam grit his teeth from the pain, surely knowing it would leave a bump of some sort.
He decided it wasn't a wise thing to move his head and he slid back to the original position he had been at, although it was hard to determine exactly where he lay at previously. He slid downwards but his feet were stopped by the end of it.
Shit. He thought to himself and then all of the sudden a feeling of panic struck his body. Sam was not one to be a claustrophobe but this would be the icing on the cake. He slid his hands along the side to find that it was at an angle. "FUCK!" He said aloud to himself. Sam was buried alive. Sam began banging on the sides and top of the coffin he seemed to be stuck in, hoping someone could hear him somehow.
This definitely was a sick and twisted joke that lost humor at the very start.
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Dean jumped a bit to hear the thuds coming from somewhere. He figured it was rats seeing as how the motel was a dump anyways and everything was falling apart one way or another. Some places he was surprised were still up and running and managed to survive business. Those were usually the places Dean and Sam stayed over night at for hunts. It was cheapest and closest to where they planned on going to hunt.
Dean walked to the nightstand grabbed his keys and cell phone, and headed out the door to the Impala. If Sam was there to see how pissed off he was, he would've tried to find some way of cheering up him or calling him a jerk or saying some witty remark. But no. Dean was the one who needed to find Sam. No. Had to find Sam. And the time was ticking down until the last minute where he'd truly lose his brother. Not by a supernatural, son-of-a-bitch, but by some sick, twisted individual who seemed to get off by this situation. Once Dean would find out who the bastard was that did this to his brother, Dean would kill him most likely… or inflict some major ass whooping.
Any bystander or local who even thought about talking to Dean, would receive the evil, pissed off glare and a bird or two. Dean walked in a fast pace to the Impala which was only a short distance away and put his key in the door forcefully and unlocked it with such anger. He sat down, slid his feet in, slamming the door afterwards, and put his keys in the ignition. Dean needed to retrace his steps to figure out how to get to Sam. The bar would be the first location he'd drive at incredible speeds to. He didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of this. Just himself.
Dean pulled from the lot, the Impala screeching out as he rammed on the gas pedal. Cops would have to wait. Time was ticking by. Each second mattered because each one was a second lost of Sam's life.
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35:48:59