"I'm sorry, Agent Plant, there's no recent missing person reports," the small-town Sheriff said, looking up to the Winchesters. "Why's the FBI in Maine anyway?"

"Routine. We go where they send us. Thank's for your time," John said, leading his son out of the police department building.

"Dad, Sam could be anywhere! How're we gonna find him?" Dean asked, pushing back the tears that threatened to fall from his green eyes.

"He's strong, Dean. He can hold on until we find him. We can't panic, though. It'll only make things worse, okay?" John placed a hand on his eldest son's shoulder, who sighed.

"Yes, Sir."

Sam laid his head on the cement floor. He was tired. He just wanted to see his family again, but he was afraid that would never happen. It had been about three days. If his family hadn't found him by now, would they ever?

Sam heard footsteps coming near him and he instantly flinched. He missed when all he had to worry about was passing an Algebra test and hunting down some poltergeist. He missed his dad and his brother. He missed being called Sam.

"Good morning, 866. It's time for breakfast," David said as he slid a paper plate over to the sixteen-year-old. Sam looked up. It had two slices of white bread on it.

"Don't say I never did anything for you," David muttered as Sam ate hungrily, no longer paying much attention to David, who was selecting a whip for the day's training.

Sam didn't reply, he just ate. He hadn't been fed his first day, and yesterday he had only been given water, so he was starving.

"Now, 866, shall we start where we left off before?"

Sam had finished his measly breakfast and now looked up at David.

"What's your name?"

Sam said nothing.

"Oh, we're being defiant today, are we?" The whip came down on Sam's bare back, making him cry out.

"Name."

Sam still said nothing. That earned him three hits.

"866, the faster you get used to your new life, the faster you'll be treated nicely. Don't you want that? Don't you want to be treated nicely?"

Sam said nothing. He didn't want to comply with the crazy people. He wanted to leave.

"What's your name?"

"Fuck you!" Sam spat. David chuckled, tossing his whip aside. Sam looked at it, confused.

"You seem too used to the whip, boy. Maybe I should try something more... hardcore?"

Sam squirmed a bit, craning his neck to see just what David was planning to do. He watched as David opened a small wooden box that sat on a metal table a few feet from where Sam was. He took out a long syringe of liquid and started walking back towards Sam.

"Don't," Sam said, not knowing what was in the syringe. It could be anything.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll be okay. After this, you'll be begging to be my pet," he said as he plunged the needle into Sam's neck. Sam could feel his eyes getting heavy. What was his plan? Make him sleep?

Dean didn't look up from the computer when his father entered the motel room with lunch. He wasn't hungry.

"You haven't moved since I left," John commented, setting the bag of greasy diner food next to Dean, who didn't make a move to eat it. John sighed.

"Dean, you have to eat. You're no help if you don't have your strength, okay?"

Dean thought it over. He was right, if Dean wasn't fit to fight, he would be useless in rescuing his brother. He pulled out a burger and started to eat it, ignoring how screwed up his stomach felt.

"And anyway, I might have a lead."

"It's all your fault, you know? That Mom's dead. If you were never born, then I wouldn't have to be a hunter. I could have a normal life. I would have both of my parents. Instead, I have to watch my little brother."

Sam let tears fall softly down his face. Dean was right. Everything was his fault.

"Dean, I'm sorry-"

"Save it. You're pathetic, you know that? I can't believe you got yourself captured. Now I have to come and save your ass. I don't even want to, you know?"

Sam nodded. He knew. He knew his brother didn't want to have to swoop in and save the day just because Sam was stupid enough to get kidnapped.

"Dean, please..." Sam trailed off. Behind his brother was a woman, wearing a white nightgown soaked in blood. He long blonde hair seemed to almost blow in a nonexistent breeze.

"I died because of you, Sam," Mary said, walking towards her youngest son. "It's all your fault."

"Mom I'm sorry-"

"Sorry isn't good enough, Sam. Or should I say 866?"

Sam sobbed out loud. He couldn't take this anymore. His family hated him. They blamed him for everything, and why shouldn't they? Every bad thing that had happened to the Winchesters was because of Sam. He was the reason his family wasn't normal.

It would be better if he was gone.

"So, what's your name?" Sam heard.

"866."

"What's my name?"

"Master."

"And why are you here?"

"Because I belong to you, Master."