(( we're finally back to Dean for this chapter, and I know some of you really wanted to know what happened to him. Sorry I took so long to answer your curiosities! Please enjoy ))

KENNEDY

It was a strange thing to stare up into complete darkness. He could have been blind. But he knew they weren't so kind; mercy wasn't a luxury they afforded, especially for him. Mercy. He could remember that. Somewhere in his memories someone showed it to him. A helping hand to pull him from the stark white world he'd become imprisoned in. He remembered the face and the smile and the eyes because he knew them so well. The one who'd stabbed him in the back, who'd set his broken jaw and protected him because they were brothers. Yes. He remembered. He couldn't forget. Memories were what he had and what he used because he pushed them aside so often. They were his weapons. People tried to use them against him, picked apart his history to find the tastiest pieces to try and force down his throat.

But that just made him thirsty for blood. He got it too, on his hands, in his mouth. Afterward he'd stand with his brothers.

Memories, like the last time he'd seen them. He could almost hear Seth's screams as Roman forced him to leave. Dean was hurt. He'd be too slow. He'd drag them down, but he could stay long enough, do enough to let them escape. And like Houdini, he'd disappeared into the endless night of Kennedy. He'd defied them. He could remember watching from rooftops and alleyways as the men who wore the suits and swung their cocks like fucking sledgehammers walked high and mighty. As the terror and hate continued from the hands of the suits, and not from the Hounds.

His face felt swollen. Shit. Better not have ruined his pretty mug.

The fact he couldn't touch it didn't bother him. What did was when he couldn't sit up, when he found that the roof was so much closer than it should have been, when his nose was mere inches from something solid. No space. No room. He kicked out, both legs as one against the wall, toward the ceiling.

'Let me fucking out!' he snarled. A box, caught in a fucking box. Oh he knew boxes. Spent half his life in one when his Ma gave up and loved bath water more than him. He'd found her, they'd blamed him, said he'd done it. Bang! Went the doors, out the barred windows went freedom and came forth the placards. What do you see when you look at this picture? He saw stars. All he wanted to see were the stars. Out on the cold streets you could look up and find freedom studded to the sky. Locked away, strapped up you found nothing but the white staring down at you. He'd traded blankness for darkness here. Another kick, pain in his legs, panic in his motions. He'd fought them all until they'd punctured his skin and injected slobber mouthed calm. Too small. Too enclosed. There were no stars in here.

He continued to kick. He couldn't feel his hands. Didn't matter. Feet were just as good as fists. No matter which way he turned he was met with walls. His heart felt too fast, his breathing too quick. He screwed up his eyes.

'GET ME OUT OF HERE.' He roared.

Rattling. A click. The ceiling pulled away from him. Rain hit his face. But all he could find was darkness. The cold air gave him comfort, that shot of calm. He could feel them stare down at him, their shit eating grins.

'So he's awake.'

'What gave you that idea toots?' Ambrose growled in response. Something came away from his eyes. He blinked hard, as everything came into colour and ugly definition. A quick glance found him in the boot of a car. Further inspection found Dave and Randy smirking down at him.

'I always wondered if lunatics screamed the same as normal people.'

'We bite different. I'm not a lunatic. Got a shiny certificate to prove it.' He couldn't help it. He was programmed that way; in your face and not giving a shit. Seth and Roman had somehow found their way behind it, knew there was more to him than a short circuited brain and a razor tongue. Dave and Randy weren't getting the Dean Ambrose Deluxe package. They weren't even worth economy. Randy reached in. Dean, quick, caught his hand between his jaws, bit down so hard he felt knuckles pop and blood on his teeth. The viper eyed man howled in agony and Dave's own fist broke apart Dean's grip. He collapsed back down into the car, and cackled with red lips.

'I'm gonna kill him! I'm gonna fucking kill him.' Randy gripped his hand against his stomach, back turned as he tried to cope with the pain. 'He's an animal, we should throw him back in that bedlam we dragged him from. Wipe that fucking smirk off his face. Fucker. Fucking bastard.'

'Any problem?' new voice, old shit. The Game came into view, umbrella held over his head by his pet kiss ass, JBL. Man was a genius with numbers; man liked his cosy pay checks. He did anything the Game asked of him. Dean hated everything about him, from that stupid hat down to his ostrich skin boots.

Randy struggled to control himself and Dean shot the big boss a wide eyed grin. Showed off his stained whites.

'Nothing here officer, we're all dandy.'

He was ignored. The Game put a hand on Randy's shoulder, whispered something that Dean couldn't make out. But he saw the viper's head turn, those narrow eyes on him, that sickle mouth grin returning so sharp he felt a lapse in confidence.

'Sharing secrets with your girlfriend Hunter? Won't Stephanie be jealous?'

The Game finally turned to look down at him in his little prison. His godless eyes looked over the bound legs and body, the line of blood from the mouth and the pale face. All the while, he never stopped that smile.

'For someone so, inconvenienced, you've got a lot to say Ambrose.' He rubbed his chin and sucked his teeth. 'Makes a man wonder if you realize just what a predicament you're in. What we could do to you. I heard you scream Ambrose, you don't like being locked in a box do you? Too small. So enclosed. Must be hard to breathe in there.' He shook his head, mock sympathetically. 'Perhaps we should find you something smaller, something underground.'

He couldn't hide the terror which crept into his eyes. The shake that rippled through his body. The rain didn't feel half as cold as the mere thought of what the Game suggested.

'But don't worry. That will come later. And if I'm feeling kind, you won't even know you're there.' His face almost looked good humoured. But then it collapsed. 'I've had word, Ambrose. Of a friend of yours. Seems Roman's just too big a man to hide. I have people Ambrose. They're hunting him now. You'll have company soon.'

'You touch him, you fucking hurt him I'll rip your entrails through your throat. You hear me Hunter? Touch one strand of that beautiful fucking mane, and all you'll know is my arm clawing your heart out. I'll destroy you. And I'll enjoy it. Every second. I'll love the feel of your fat, black, un-beating heart as I crush it. It'll be delicious. So fucking delicious.' Dean kicked at the side of the boot, struggled in his bonds.

'Did you hear that gentlemen? I believe that was a threat on my life.' The Game turned to look at JBL. 'Don't you think so?'

'Yes sir. It was sir. Couldn't have heard a more blatant one in my life! He's a lunatic! Should be locked up.'

The Game nodded slowly, seemingly to like the idea.

'I'll have my fun Ambrose. You'll give me what I want to know. But first, there's somewhere special I think we should visit. Somewhere you might remember,' he tapped the side of his face and then leaned forward, his tie slipped from his jacket and stroked Dean's face. 'Somewhere, where you have old friends. I wonder if they've still got your old room.'

Dean turned his head. Bit down onto the tie and manically started to chomp, chewing it down, pulling the Game closer, closer. He came so close to biting that smirk right off. What satisfaction he could have had. But JBL had to ruin his fun. He managed to snip the thing right off the Game's throat, who breathing heavily, enraged, rammed the thing as hard as he could into Dean's jaws.

'Take him to St. Jude's. I want him on a fucking gurney. I want him lobotomized. Anything I want we can have from his brothers when I get my hands on them. I want this fucking lunatic destroyed.' He turned on his heel and marched away.

Dean laughed as the rain and the sky disappeared, and his world slammed shut.