Chapter 4
Couldn't have been more than nine when Dean fist told Sam that he loved him.
Of course, it wasn't how they would say it now, or at least, that's not how Dean ment to say it.
But Sam took it that way.
He didn't say anything about it, though.
Just thought about it too hard, and too long, but the though of it being wrong never once crossed his mind.
And that should've been the first clue too.
And guess, you could say this is how it all started.
When hugs turned to kisses, and sleeping turned into sex.
They cared so much about eachother.
Sometimes too much for their own good.
They loved eachother too much to bare being thirty minutes without eachother.
Which is why his heart shattered when Dean wasn't in bed the next morning.
And the coldness the sheet gave off told Sam that Dean hadn't returned from his trip to the vending machine.
He franticly searched the motel room: for a note, clue, or anything to help him find his lost brother.
"Dean," he whispered.
"Please, be safe."
SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN
Dean slowly came out from under the blanket of sleep that had folded over him.
He woke to coldness against his bare back and chest.
His limbs stretched to their length.
There wad no bed nor wall supporting his back, so he felt as if floating on air with the sky beneath his feet.
Dean's eyes swung open, taking in all of his surroundings.
He was strapped by iron chains to two metal poles, hanging in midair, basically, inside an old abandoned mill.
'Wait,' he thought, his mind still processing what all this could possibly mean.
'I was just outside the motel, and all I wanted was a Sprite before I went to bed.
That's all, I don't even know. I must be dreaming.'
Footsteps, barely audible, began steadily approaching.
The exposure, the coldness, and pure instinct brought him to resort to panic.
Dean struggled vainly to free himself of his chains.
Pain lacing through him at every step, flinching on each one.
And each tug on his bindings caused them to pull tighter, so he abruptly, stopped.
Dean hung limp, and spent in the freezing air.
Breathing heavily, as the footsteps grew closer, still.
That was when he finally realized; he wasn't dreaming.
"Hello, Dean," the grinding voice prowled around the moldy room like a cat, observing him, taking in every inch of his body, every weakness.
"I am really… honored to meet you." A young man, only about eighteen, appeared from the shadows.
Carrying a jagged, silver, dagger in his hands, twirling the piece of metal, delicately, between his fingers.
"We are going to have loads of fun tonight, I can promise you that."
The man's body and visage showed the ideal of an amateur, but the deep wisdom, glowing in his eyes proved otherwise.
It proved that this young man was just another demon to kill.
Or just another demon to kill him.
"Oh, I'm sure we are," Dean grinned, the words were brave for the position he was currently in, but the waver still lingered in his voice.
And it was true.
With the design of the object that held him; cold, bitter winds treading, maliciously,
Upon his bare back, and the vulnerability that was given to this demon set the fact in stone.
Dean was scared.
For the first time in a long time: Dean was scared.
Dean shuffled, uncomfortably, at this thought, making the chains tighten its hold.
He grunted, and winced.
Holding his breath until the pain slightly subsided.
The man chuckled darkly, the moonlight filtering through the window, dappling his unnaturally white teeth.
"I see you've already made yourself at home."
Dean smirked, his lips curling over his teeth, more a snarl then a smile.
But, for once, having no answer, he then focused souly on the crack winding about the top of the rood.
The shining stars booming delightedly at life, smiling brightly down upon his beaten face.
And for a moment, he was able to forget.
But, he soon returned, for the monster, with the mask of a man, foully growled "Look at me when I am speaking to you."
Dean's gaze snapped, quickly, back to the man's.
Who's eyes held the hunger and bitterness of a madman.
Then his scrawny figure stepped forward to place his fingers lightly on the side of Dean's chains.
The white in his smile grew as he let Dean process his plan of doing.
Pressure was slowly applied to the metal chain, and even this tiny movement caused Dean's cry of, excruciating, pain.
It was then he thought 'It's going to be a long night.'
SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN
Sam had searched…everywhere.
Between alleys, the vending machine, the store.
'Maybe he just went out for a beer? He'll be back soon.'
Then he decided to wait one more hour, then if Dean still made no reappearance, he would head out again.
But, somewhere in between: there was a knock at the door.
Thinking it to be Dean, he scrambled over to the door, all hunter training forgotten.
And this thought was the cause of the dismissal of the question 'Why did he knock, doesn't he have a key?"
Grabbing the, rusty, door handle, he thrust and swung the door open.
"De-," Sam started, but the words faltered on his tongue.
"Not quite that lucky, sweetheart, guess again."
Sam stood rigid, vigilant in the doorway.
His mouth snapped shut, in a clenching formation.
The woman standing outside his door, with the bleach white hair, feather light skin, and red velvet dress, that flowed wearily down to her feet, said "My name is Aphrodite, and I am here to help you save your brother."
TBC…
Author's Note:
I had to type this one up quickly, do I apologize for any mistakes. Remember that I have no beta.
I am like obsessed with gods.
Greek, Egyptian, Chinese, you name it.
I absolutely love them. This is obviously the reason I write about gods all the time, so yea.
Reviews much loved. ;]