Okay, hopefully this chapter gets into the action a little more! Just a warning that there will be violence. I know I'm not the best writer out there (this is really the first serious story I've attempted) but reviews would be greatly appreciated :)

"Good afternoon Dean."

A coatless Jimmy was standing by the kitchen doorway, presumably watching Dean sleep. How he had ended up on the couch, Dean didn't know; and with the hangover he was feeling he wasn't about to think about it.

"Mmm, you're awfully chirpy."

As if it was second nature, Dean walked into the kitchen to boil the kettle then turned and kissed Jimmy quickly on the lips as he grabbed a mug out of the cupboard. He froze once he realised what he'd done, but Jimmy was close to cracking a smile,

"I see no reason not to be happy."

Dean swallowed a few aspirin and grimaced, "How is it that you were twice as wasted as I was yet you don't even have bags under your eyes? No fair."

"If it's any consolation the only thing I remember is Sam throwing a blanket on us when he arrived home last night."

Again, Dean groaned and rested his head against a cupboard. He was going to have a million questions flying at him once Sam came home from work. It wasn't like he wanted to keep anything from his brother; he just wasn't sure enough about what was going on between Jimmy and himself to warrant a confident answer.

"Dean, are you alright? You are very pale."

As if he didn't feel terrible enough from the hangover, Dean's arm began to cramp again which caused him to inhale sharply. Jimmy was frowning from the other side of the kitchen but didn't move; which Dean was glad for. He didn't want to be fussed over.

"I'm fine. I don't want to seem rude but I kind of want to pass out right now..."

"I do not believe wanting to lose consciousness is considered "fine" amongst humans."

Dean attempted a laugh, "You don't get out much do you?"

No matter how absorbed in Jimmy's bottomless blue eyes Dean was, his mind still bubbled away; trying to decipher the meaning of the heaviness in the pit of his stomach. Maybe Jimmy came from an Amish family? That would explain why he walked everywhere, had never eaten a cheeseburger and seemed unfamiliar with common figures of speech.

"I am needed elsewhere presently, but I am sure we will meet again soon."

Without the slightest explanation, Jimmy left. Just like that, he plucked his trench coat from the back of the couch and closed the front door loudly behind him. At least he'd kind of said there was going to be a second date... if that's what the previous night had been.

Dean opened the back door to let Zeppelin in and carried him to the couch,

"Come on Zeppelin, let's catch up with the real world."

"... teacher in New York has killed sixty-six children. It is not known what sparked the massacre –"

He turned the TV off, "Well, that was depressing."

As Dean went to stand, Zeppelin raced to the front door and greeted Sam with a bark.

"Hey Zep, I hope you've kept Dean pinned to the couch."

Sam crossed the living room and tossed his briefcase onto the couch next to Dean, who pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and moaned dramatically,

"I am fading! I can feel the life slipping from my body!"

"Did you get laid?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Subtle. No I did not... At least I don't think I did. All I remember is Jimmy saying assbutt a lot. I think he's Amish."

"No, he's just weird. Seriously dude you have to ditch him. Don't get mad, but he did kind of turn up out of nowhere and you still know nothing about him... Are you sure he didn't steal anything while you were sleeping?"

"Sam! Yeah, Jimmy's a little weird but since when does that translate into petty thief? Not that it's any of your business, but I kissed him."

Sam took a beer from the fridge and shrugged, "I'm not saying he's a murderer... He might be one of those people who prey on dying hospital patients and steal their identities. You never know."

"Or, you never know, he might be a decent guy! Did you think about that? Maybe I met him before I got sick and I just can't remember! For fuck sake I can't even remember what happened the day I went to hospital so who the hell knows! I'm gonna take the dog for a walk and don't you dare tell me I'm not well enough."

If Sam had planned on protesting, he kept it to himself. Dean pulled his boots on, tied the leash to Zeppelin and couldn't have disappeared fast enough. Now that he had time to think to himself, Dean wondered if Sam was right. Obviously if he had known Jimmy before his admittance to hospital he hadn't introduced him to his brother.

"Zeppelin, I don't know what to think. There's something about him that I just can't put my finger on."

Dean noticed the sun had sunk below the horizon and turned for home. He began to pay attention to his surroundings and found himself in a seedy looking neighbourhood. How long had he been walking? None of the buildings had lights on, let alone glass in the windows and the street lights flickered their dying light onto the street. It really was like a scene from a horror film.

"Dean Winchester, in the flesh. They don't have you on as tight a leash as I thought."

The woman was leaning against one of the dying lamp posts casually, ignoring Zeppelin's growls and following Dean with her dark eyes.

He ignored the woman, which was what you were supposed to do right? Ignore them and find a busy public place? His ignorance didn't deter her though. Now she was following him, taunting,

"I thought you were a 'shoot first, ask questions later' kind of guy? Or have the angels reined this wild one in? What about precious Sammy? Is he evil yet? I heard along the grapevines that you'd gone into hiding... It doesn't seem like Castiel put enough effort into your hiding place, considering I wasn't even looking for you today."

What was this woman on about? She didn't particularly look like she had escaped an asylum...

"Dean, don't ignore me. You're not really living up to all the hype you know? You've got every demon in the country scared to bump into you, yet you're not even carrying a gun. What is this, some kind of ambush? If so, it's not going to work, the whole block is crawling with hell spawn. Dean? Now you're making me mad."

The woman was walking slightly to the right of Dean, but cut behind him and before he knew it he was flat on his face with the woman's foot crushing his head into the sidewalk. Zeppelin, being the devoted young dog he was, refused to run when Dean had let go of his leash and was scooped up by the woman. From the ground Dean could hear another set of footsteps coming to a halt beside him, the toe of a boot pressing firmly into his ribs. A man growled,

"So this is the almighty Dean Winchester? He's not even struggling, are you sure it's him?"

The woman removed her foot from his head, "Just pick him up."

He didn't know what to do. He'd left his phone at home and it wasn't like anyone was going to hear him yelling for help. With no other option, Dean tried pleading,

"Guys, come on, I don't know what you want... I'm obviously not the guy you're after. I've never shot a gun in my life! I don't even know anyone called Cas- whatever!"

The guy turned to him with pitch black eyes. It was at that point that Dean became genuinely terrified for his life. He didn't know how, but he just knew these people weren't right.

"It's a shame you didn't put up a fight, hunter. A little foreplay would have been fun. I'm a little disappointed your darling brother isn't here either... I wanted to see his face when I tore your head from your neck."

"Just let me go, please. I'm no hunter. I'm a mechanic, my dad was a mechanic and my mom was-"

"Flame grilled by Azazel. Come on Dean, everyone knows your life story. Now shut your mouth."

Azazel. That name.

Rage stirred within Dean but he didn't have a chance to act on it. Something connected with the back of his head and he was unconscious before the pain had a chance to register.

ooo

"Wakey wakey, time to play."

Water splashed across Dean's face as he came around. His head was throbbing and his vision was blurry but he could hear Zeppelin barking and clung onto the familiar sound. He tried to sit up, but chains on his wrists and ankles prevented even the slightest movement. Dean lifted his head as high as he could and found himself living his worst nightmare.

"What kind of freaks are you people?"

The room was tiny and brightly lit with no windows. Surely this wasn't actually happening. A tray beside Dean's head was laden with all manner of sharp metal objects, including a bone saw. A fucking bone saw. There was no way that this was actually happening.

He wiggled his fingers and toes, all twenty accounted for. They'd taken his shirt off, so he could see that they hadn't cut out his kidneys... yet.

"Sorry, you're stuck with us. At least until we send you back to the pit. I'm sure Alastair would love to catch up with his favourite pupil. I'm Vicky by the way."

The woman stepped back into sight and drew a knife along his forearm. She grinned, taking too much pleasure in watching Dean's face contort in pain.

"I still don't know what you're talking about! I don't know any of these fucking people!"

She dug the blade deeper, causing Dean to cry out.

This was it. He was going to die a slow, painful death at the hands of a psychopath with bad contact lenses. For the first time that he could remember, Dean prayed to God that they wouldn't go looking for Sammy. He would haunt their asses forever if they dared touch Sammy.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. I'm starting to lose my patience with you."

Each time she said his name, she pushed the tip of the knife deeper and deeper into Dean's forearm. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he cried out again before his vision began to cloud over.

ooo

Dean opened his eyes, but he was in a different room. A man was leaning over his torso, his suit red with blood. He didn't speak, simply holding up a piece of meat and scrunching his nose as he tossed it over his shoulder. The man then picked up a pair of rib cutters and dove back into Dean's flesh. Though Dean didn't feel any pain he still screamed until he was hoarse.

Alastair.

The greying man looked up and winked, then carelessly dropped one of Dean's ribs on to the floor beside him.

"You ready to get yourself off the rack and torture some souls?"

ooo

After his hallucination, Vicky had started questioning Dean about angels and how to kill them. Of course he had no idea because there was no such thing as angels of the fucking Lord, but she wasn't going to stop until she had her answers.

He moaned through the pain of another wound being opened across his stomach, "Stab them through the heart with a silver dagger!"

She pulled the blade from his flesh and leaned over Dean's face, her eyes like empty sockets, "You're sure? Sounds a little too easy to me. You're bluffing."

Dean closed his eyes and didn't struggle as Vicky clenched her fingers around his throat. She had an iron grip, but her voice was almost child-like.

"Say your last prayer to your little guardian angel. You've been more pain than you're worth Winchester. I guess that's why Castiel hasn't come to save you."

It couldn't hurt, praying to some feathery asshole that didn't even exist. So he did. With the last of his voice, Dean gurgled,

"Castiel, a little help here?"