-Chapter One-

Five demons, all men with entirely black eyes were glaring fiercely at him, each holding a gun their hands. Dean did not't know what to do, his heart thumped against his chest, he felt numb all over, and most part of him was thinking I'm so screwed. Five demons, he could not't take that many on at once, it was impossible. The odds on this one were not comforting.

Dean slowly stood, holding both hands up as if in gesture of "I surrender." Dean kept his eyes focused on the demons at all times, he did not leave their gaze, not even to blink. His eyes were watering, but he did not care. It was either them watering and hurting like mad, or him dead.

"I come in peace." Dean said, shaking his head slightly, knowing that what he had just said had sounded so queer.

"Human!?" one the demon's said, Dean suspected it was the leader because it was the oldest and ugliest. That made sense.

"Me?" asked Dean, pointing his index finger at his chest.

"What are you doing on this turf?" another one of the demon's asked, this one was much more taller than the last with a bald head. He looked more dangerous.

"Turf?" Dean asked, utterly confused. He had no idea what the demon was talking about, in fact he had no idea what the demons were doing with guns, could not't the fugly bastards just send people flying across a room with one swift movement of their hands. It was all weird to Dean, nothing made sense.

"Who is your master?" the bald demon asked again, he more so demanded because his tone of voice was harsh, stern and direct.

Dean continued to look dazed. "Master?" he repeated, it was like he and the demon were speaking two entirely different languages. "I don't have a master."

There was a lot of talk among the demons when Dean had uttered these last words. Dean was unable to hear what they were saying, and for once in his life he was kicking himself for not taking that lip reading course back in high school. Dean could make out some words though, some of them sounded like "free ranger" or something along those lines. He could hear more, the leader demon saying "we don't like free rangers." Dean was still dumb founded by the whole situation he was in. What had happened to the world he had been in before? The world where everyone was all happy. The world where, oh yeah, there were no demons pointing guns at people's heads.

"What will we do with him?" one the demon's asked, this was had flaming red hair.

"Kill him?" the bald demon suggested.

Dean's eyes widened with shock at these words, they were going to kill him? But before he could fret on possible and not so comforting notion any longer the leader demon shook his head in disagreement.

"That would not be wise." the leader demon said sternly. "I believe that we could get a pretty penny for this one, he's young, looks healthy enough, let's say we put him on the market for the highest bidder."

"Now wait a minute here!" Dean said briskly. He did not't like the sound of being auctioned off like some kind of antique. Though antiques were valuable, no what was he thinking, he did not't like the sound of the demon's idea. But there was not't much he could do anyway, they had the guns and he had only few drops of holy water left but that would not't be enough to stop them all. Besides, holy water did not't kill demons, it just merely slowed them down.

"The human answers back!" the red haired demon snarled. "That will bring down the price."

"Yes, true." agreed another demon with mattered black hair. "But if it dared speak that way to it's master it's master would have it's head and carve it up like a turkey at thanksgiving."

"You celebrate thanksgiving?" the bold demon asked him.

Mattered haired demon shrugged, "No, never really got the big attraction, but I know they eat turkey."

Dean could not't believe what he was hearing, were these yahoo's for real? Were they really going to auction him off? And why the hell were they calling him an 'it' like he were some kind of animal? He had a name, but somehow Dean did not't really think that they really gave a damn if he had a name or not.

"Alright let's just chill out, okay?" Dean suggested, but the other demons did not't really share his view.

"He's a chatter box too" the bald demon said. "That'll bring own the price even more. You know what I say, I say we kill it."

Dean could not't take standing around, waiting for the demons to figure out what they were going to do with him, he had to make a run for it. But where would he run? Dean looked around, frantically, trying to look for the best escape route. There were plenty of alleyways that he could run down, but that would only lead him to a dead end for sure. He had to think of another way out of this one. He could always fight them, but he would not't be able to kill them. He was trapped, outnumbered, doomed. Dean's best option right now would be trying to convince them to put him up for auction, or whatever it was the leader demon had said before. At least that way he would get out this one alive.

"Killing him would be too easy." the mattered hair demon said. "It would be like shooting an animal in a cage. Now where would be the fun in that?"

The other demons all gave each other a nod, then turned on Dean, all wearing corrupt grins on their faces.

Dean had to run, he had to get out, but where would be run? There was nowhere. Besides it felt like his legs were paralyzed on the spot, he could not't move, fear seemed to be holding his body hostage. Dean would have to stay and fight, if he were to die, it did not't matter, he was dead in a year anyway. Besides the looks on the son of a bitches faces was not sitting well with Dean.

Dean moved into a fighting stance, fists ready, ready for a fight. He did not't want to have to go up against five demons all at once, but he was not't seeing any other option here. The mattered haired demon moved toward Dean, his teeth were rotten, and his breath was not't any better either. Dean wrinkled up his nose, his breath smelled strongly like rotting flesh—it smelled like death. It was disgusting but the rest of him was not't much better either. Dean suspected that the men it was possessing had been someone that had been living on the street, for a long time too. The demon was pale, malnourished, it's skin hung loosely from his bones, he looked like a walking, talking human skeleton wearing baggy clothing that could substitute as rags.

Dean's gaze moved away from homeless mattered haired demon to the bald one. The man that demon was possessing was the complete opposite to the other one. He was well built, dark skinned, he had an air of snobbery about him, perhaps he was someone high up on the demonic food chain.

"Five on one. That does not't look fair."

Leader demon shrugged. "What in life really is?" it replied, it leaned forward, trying to grab him.

Dean snapped his fist forward, putting all his weight into it, and gave it a hard punch in the face. The demon took the punch with ease, it continued to smile—a crooked and corrupt sneer. The other demons around it laughed.

"Is that all you got?" leader demon sneered. "It's weak, really, but then again I have to say a human fighting back, it's a new one."

Dean frowned. "What are you talking--" before he could finish his sentence he felt something heavy hit the back of his head. His rolled back, his lolled to one side, he fell to the ground and then it all went black.

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Sam had been pacing Bobby Singer's living room floor for the past hour. Bobby was seated on the sofa, flipping through numerous old books he had from his collection he had collected, bought, stole over the years. Sam had never had the opportunity to ask Bobby where he had gotten all those eccentric collection of old books, amulets, and numerous other cursed and funky objects that Bobby kept around his place. In fact the thought of asking Bobby had never occurred to Sam. But perhaps now would not be the best moment to ask. He would have to ask the hunter when Sam knew for sure that Dean was safe and sound.

They had not found anything so far, not even jack squat and time was running out. Dean's life was slowly ticking away, like a clock that could not be turned off at a power switch.

Sam watched out of the corner of his eye as Bobby let out a heavy sigh. Clearly that old, musty book had gotten nowhere. Sam was not't just pacing, standing around just looking pretty, he was doing research of his own. He had just been on the laptop trying to find the demon, but it was hard, they did not't even have a name to go by so it was like looking for a needle in well a stack of needles.

In his hand Sam held his cell phone to his ear, a new one, of course because his last one he had had to destroy after Gordon went all vamped out on them. Sam had been trying to dial Bela for the past half hour. She was not't picking up, not the first time she was due to disappoint. Bela Talbot was a wild card but right now she was Sam's only option of getting Dean back. Or was she?

Sam ended the call, she Had not picked up anyway and turned to Bobby, a sudden thought accruing to the young man.

"Hey, Bobby" Sam said, finally he had finally stopped pacing.

Bobby grunted response to let Sam know that he had the hunter's full attention.

"Do you know how to summon demons?"

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He was lying what felt like nails stabbing in his back.

Dean opened his eyes only to realize that that had been a useless, he could not't see anything. At first Dean had feared that he had gone blind, that the demon's had gone something truly awful to him, but it was not't the case. He could feel the knot in the back of his head where a piece of cloth must have been tied. He was blindfolded. His hands were tied to, he could feel the ropes, the were tight, cutting into his skin, burning his flesh. If Dean could have he would have let out a moan of pain, but that was useless too his mouth was gagged. He could not't move his legs either they were bound too.

Dean felt really uncomfortable and not just because he was lying on his back on a cold, hard surface and not to mention bound and gagged but because he knew something was not't right. Well that part was obvious, but something was not't right with the world. It had been different, it had been dark when it should have been light, there had been no people moving around and the demons had been running free in the city, auctioning off people. It just did not't make sense. The pieces did not't fit, in fact there were no pieces to this puzzle. When the demon had touched him it had done something, it had sent him somewhere, a world that was not't right, a world that was completely wrong on so many levels.

The sound of a door slamming open made his heart jolt. He could not't see anything so he had to rely on his ears. He listened to the footsteps that were coming closer toward him, someone—someone strong reached for his arm and pulled him up. It's overgrown fingernails dug into the skin on Dean's arm. Dean tried to scream out in pain, but it was useless. The thing, whatever it was, Dean was going to go with demon on this one—mainly because of it's strength.

It was taking him somewhere, that could not be good.

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