28.

Dean woke up with a pounding headache and the feeling that his mouth had been stuffed with cotton. Every muscle in his body was sore, as if he'd been beaten into submission multiple times. His memory was hazy; the last thing he remembered was his brother in a motel room, but that wasn't really indicative of much.

"Why, hello, there," a cheerful voice rang out. "Are we going to behave ourselves this time?"

Dean groaned and opened his eyes. He was lying on his side on the cold, hard floor of an empty factory. Sunlight shone through the high, dirty windows, illuminating the dreary scene. He pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked around. Sitting in a overstuffed armchair, sipping on a chocolate martini from the minibar beside the chair, was someone Dean had absolutely no desire to see again.

"Trickster," he growled, managing to sit upright.

"Hiya, Dean," the Trickster chirped, waving. "Please refrain from attacking me or trying to escape...again. Kicking your ass is starting to get old."

"What do you want with me?" Dean demanded. "You had your fun. You were right. Sam couldn't save me. You happy now?"

The Trickster pursed his lips. "Well, I didn't expect this outcome, I'll give you that. You haven't left me much to work with. But it'll have to do."

Dean achieved a standing position. "My brother is going to find you, and this time, we really will kill you."

The other man laughed. "Oh, your pet moose is currently chasing after dead ends. I'll have him running in circles for weeks. And in the meantime, you and I get to have fun!" He put down the martini and hopped to his feet. Dean took a wary step backwards.

"What are you going to do?" he snarled.

The Trickster tilted his head, clasping his hands behind his back. "Don't you want to know why the angels are so upset about you? I mean you personally and not the fact you're a sulfur-based stain on the universe." He grinned. "Don't you want to know why Castiel and the others are taking such a personal insult by your very existence?"

"No, not really," Dean replied.

The Trickster shrugged. "Oh. Well, too bad." He grinned again. "Better hold on tight, kiddo. It's gonna be a ride of a lifetime." He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers.

The factory was perfectly silent, no evidence whatsoever that it had ever been occupied, even temporarily.