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Late that afternoon, Sam leaned up against the Impala, and called to check in with Bobby.
Any luck yet, boy?
"No. We found what looks like some sure of cult meeting house. There was an altar, blood everywhere, but nothing that looked like vamps."
That's great.
"I know. I'm freaking out, Bobby. It's been three days, and I'm clueless."
Did Garth get out there yet?
"Yeah, he's helping me. Bobby, I'm freaking scared as shit here. What am I missing? There has to be something, something I'm missing, something…he trailed off with a sigh. "I don't know what to do."
Dean groaned, his head pounding, pain checking in from every part of his body.
The blindfold was gone now, so that was an improvement.
His captors were three men and a woman, and all of them had flashed black eyes at him. It made the situation more confusing. Why would they bother with the drugs when they could do so much more with their demonic powers?
It worried him.
He'd been drugged and tortured, but there'd been no questions, no demands for answers, and Dean was started to put it all together.
He wasn't the prize. He was the bait.