Dean startled awake. He was in the his coffin, back from hell. Six feet under, trapped. He couldn't breathe! It was blacker than black. He reached for his lighter but this time there was no pocket where it should be. He tried to yell out instinctively but it echoed back in his face.
Ugh, muffled country music seeped in around him. He must be in hell.
He reached to pull at the lid. Wait, his hands were zip tied together. He was touching metal.
"What the..." Dean stopped and listened. He was in a vehicle. Was he in the trunk? Damn. He was in the trunk.
"This is just humiliating." Dean mumbled to himself before trying to bite through the plastic restraint. The vibrations and steady hum said they were driving. Oh lord. Dixie chicks were playing. Could this get any worse? He felt around trying to find anything sharp enough to cut through the tie but all he found was a jack and what felt like a bunch of papers.
Someone had him. They sure as hell couldn't sing.
The last thing he remembered was being in that holding cell...looking for the camera then falling asleep. That was it.
There was a nasty taste in his mouth. Could he have been drugged? Had to be. He refused to believe even in his sleep someone could sneak up to him close enough to...wait. He was out of prison. Oh, this was perfect. Had to be that whack job FBI agent. Didn't make a lot of sense but he would run with it.
Dean smiled in the dark as he contorted himself into a position where he could reach his ankle. He slid his hand under the bandages on his leg and slid out a scalpel he had stashed there He was Dean Winchester after all. When had he ever been without a weapon? "Never." he said answering his unspoken question. He held it in his mouth and began to clumsily cut himself free, growling as he repeatedly snagged his wrist.
Agent Bennett was in for a big suprise. A scalpel and a jack iron. He was as good as free.
Dean punched out the back lights leaving a pair of holes big enough to let in just a little light. I. was like a supernova in the black interior.
What could the idiot want?
The car stopped. The music stopped with it, thank God. He leveled his eye to catch sight of the driver entering a store. Looked like a pharmacy or something.
It wasn't Bennett. Damn. Too short, prison guard uniform. From the back he couldn't tell.
Dean spun and began to try to work the back seat loose. Two bolts, that was all he needed to get loose. HE slid the jack under one with difficulty and pulled at it with all his strength. It was bending. He needed time that was all.
He heard chatting and turned to see his captor out the small hole. It was that inmate, the one that had attacked him. What the hell?
He tried to listen to the conversation. He was talking to a young girl, maybe 19. Hot. He seemed to be getting directions. He pulled something out of the bag he carried. She took it seemed to be assembling something. She gave it back to him and he thanked her as she lit up a smoke.
Dean felt the car shake as the man got into the car and slammed the door. He heard the man speaking to himself..."408-278-3481" before there was a pause. "GOD DAMN IT MISSY ANSWER YOUR GOD DAMNED PHONE!" he yelled.
"Bender." Dean whispered to himself. As the car started and sped out of the parking lot.
"Why couldn't it just have been a demon."
O00o0o0o0o0o
Sirens blared through the prison. They were on lock-down. Winchester had escaped. Right from under their noses!
Marcus Bennett spoke to the assembled press hovering outside the gate.
"At 1430 today, the prisoner Dean Winchester escaped custody after killing a guard and abducting a fellow prisoner. The local and state authorities are following multiple credible leads that may lead to his capture. We advise avoiding any contact with the prisoner, as he is armed and extremely dangerous."
He stormed off through the reporters in a controlled fury. That other inmate, Lee Bender. He had family in South Carolina. A brother in the State's locked ward for the criminally insane and a sister. He had her address and a copy of her license photo.
Smart girl it seemed. A few degrees, owned property, held a job. Looked like a little mouse of a thing. If he was right she had no clue what was headed her way. If he couldn't rescue the missing woman he could save this Melissa Bender. Things could still turn out as he planned. Both the men, however, wouldn't survive. From what the warden had told him the inmate was a perfect example of rehabilitation. Found the lord, just got permission to marry. He already had the girlfriend in protective custody.
The sister wasn't answering her phone. It could already be too late. He could call the local authorities, but he HAD to be the one to salvage this situation. Pity. The records said she never visited but they had phone contact. She occasionally sent mail. Helping that maniac escape had sealed her brothers fate.
O0o0o0o0o0o0o
Missy didn't think she could get Sam back down into the cellar herself. He was just too heavy.
She wrapped duct tape around his arms and legs as best as she could. He was starting to smell bad. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. How could she have been in love with this man. She decided he hadn't aged well. HE was still tall but he wasn't the beautiful all American boy she saw all those years ago. What was she thinking. The biggest question was NOW what was she supposed to do with him.