SPN

Emerging from the cave with Sam's limp body dangling from his shoulders in a fireman's carry, Ethan paused to survey his surroundings. Much to his relief, the coast was clear. Despite the massive explosion he heard from the tunnel, which may have signified the mother's death, the battle was still raging. Hunters were still preoccupied with countless monsters, and no one would notice if Ethan took off into the wilderness with Sam in tow. Awesome.

He made a break for it, heading away from the gunfire. The terrain was steep, and with the extra weight, it was slow going, but he was determined. He'd been waiting for so long to have Sam back in his control, and with a duplicate, he didn't have to restrain himself. He could let himself go. The anticipation was agonizing. His heart fluttered, and he ached with desire. It gave him the stamina to fly through the woods like a bat out of hell.

He didn't stop for two miles. By then, he was drenched in sweat, despite the chill in the air. Better pace himself. Finding a relatively flat area, he dropped Sam to the ground and parked himself on a large rock to catch his breath. While removing his helmet, the goggles, and the ski mask, he smiled down at his sleeping victim. So helpless… So vulnerable… So worth the wait.

He couldn't help himself—had to get started. He inched towards the boy, kneeling down next to him and rolling him onto his back. His head flopped to the side, hair falling in his face. Ethan brushed the stray strands behind his ear, gently traced his jawline, and stroked his bottom lip… He couldn't deny the kid had a lovely mouth. He bent down and kissed it, thrusting in with his tongue, savoring his soft, yielding reception. He knew it wouldn't last.

A moment later, he pulled back. He shouldn't be wasting time. Eventually, Sam would regain consciousness, and first, he had to be… prepped. Shivering with excitement, Ethan fished two extra-large bandanas from his cargo pants. He rumpled one up into a thick wad and crammed it all the way into Sam's mouth. Then, he folded the other into a neat strip and covered Sam's lips, securing it as tightly as possible behind the back of his head. Perfect.

He rolled Sam onto his stomach and tugged his arms behind his back. Step one, fasten his wrists with a pair of handcuffs, nice and snug, so the shackles dig into the skin. Step two, rope. He had a long nylon bundle wrapped around his waist, hidden beneath his clothes. It took a minute to unwind, and as he worked, Ethan considered all the different ways he could truss up the kid.

He began with the elbows. Straddling his victim, Ethan leaned down and wrapped a length of rope around Sam's arms, both above and below the joints, pulling viciously to yank the elbows together. Sam woke with a start, howling in pain. Ethan's ministrations were rotating his shoulders too far back, possibly tearing muscles, and it had to hurt. A lot.

Good.

After binding several knots, Ethan cut off the extra rope with a combat knife. He rolled Sam around and relished the look of fear on his face. "Hey, there, pretty boy. Long time, no see." Sam's yells were sufficiently muffled by his gag. He tried squirming away, but Ethan dropped his full weight on his waist, pinning him down. "You tried to run from me." His hands slithered up under his shirt, gently grazing his stomach. Sam bucked desperately, kicking his legs at nothing. "But I forgive you. It was a joy to find you in the hands of… a thousand hands. What did that feel like?" He pulled his own hands out from under Sam's shirt. "Did it feel anything like this?" He pushed his palms down on Sam's stomach, then crawled his way up Sam's chest to his face, which he stroked affectionately. Sam moaned, twisting his head away in agitation. Ethan smirked. He was gonna be so much fun to play with.

Reaching for the extra rope, he turned to focus on Sam's legs. "Hold still, pretty boy." He slid the rope under Sam's thighs, wrapped it around three times, and tied it off. Then, with the remaining length, he bound Sam's ankles. Naturally, the kid struggled the whole time, but he never really stood a chance.

Once Ethan was satisfied with his work, he stood up and retrieved his phone. While Sam tested his restraints, Ethan pulled up a map on the screen. There! Just a few miles away. They could make it. He glanced down at Sam and winked provocatively. "How would you like to spend the last few moments of your life at a gorgeous lakefront? I hear the water's cold this time of year."

Sam's eyes widened, and Ethan grinned.

SPN

Endless silence. Floating in darkness. Only somewhat aware that something had been lost. Not cold. Not hot. Just calm suspension.

Nothing. It wasn't painful. It wasn't peaceful. It wasn't anything.

At least, not at first.

Gradually, a glimmer of light. Where was it coming from? So small, but pure.

He reached for it.

He. Who was he? What happened?

The light was in him. Gentle. White. Refreshing. He breathed in. And breathed out. Alive.

It was starting to sing. So clear. So divine. The word.

Word of God.

Inside him.

He could feel it now. The comforting weight of an ancient tablet, buried deep where no one would ever find it. He had to keep it safe, had to protect it.

But here it was, protecting him.

The etchings on the stone surface were radiant, shining with celestial light, filling him to the brim, spreading outward from his core to his fingertips.

Warmth.

Hope.

It carried him out of the dark.

He opened his eyes.

And he felt…

Agony.

SPN

Sam was shouting—at least, trying to shout through the obstruction in his mouth. It was suffocating, and no one would be able to hear him—aside from Ethan. The son of a bitch had squeezed his arms under Sam's, sandwiching them between Sam's elbows and his back, so they were linked together. He hauled Sam off the ground and was now dragging him like a rag doll through the woods. The pain was excruciating—especially in his shoulders.

"Keep squirming, pretty boy," Ethan teased, despite the exertion in his voice. He might be strong, but even he had difficulty toting a hundred and seventy-two extra pounds through the rough terrain. Their progress was slow… but it was still progress. "I'm always up for a challenge."

Sam clenched his eyes shut, panting heavily. Cas, he prayed. I need help! Ethan's gonna kill me! We're heading to some lake! CAS!

No answer.

"By the way," Ethan said, as if reading his mind. "I ran into that angel friend of yours. Damn thing's all bark and no bite. He went down easy."

What? Cas!?

"I stabbed him with his own silver blade," he bragged conspiratorially.

No…

Sam thrashed with everything he had, forcing Ethan to stop and adjust his grip. Then, they were on their way again.

"How many other hunters do you think have bagged an angel? They're not very common, are they? Of course, I can't tell anyone—it wouldn't go over well—but that doesn't diminish my accomplishment." He laughed.

Sam whimpered, tears filling his eyes. Cas couldn't… He couldn't…

CAS!

SPN

It was almost dawn when the army of monsters made their retreat, scattering in different directions, with no mother for guidance. Many of the hunters went after them, the taste of victory spurring them on. Dean, however, didn't share their excitement. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He could feel it in his gut.

Leaning against a tree, he pulled off the helmet, the goggles, and the mask. It was still dark in the woods, making it difficult to see clearly, but after such a long battle, it was a relief to feel the crisp mountain air on his face. He took a moment to catch his breath, glancing around uncertainly. When they killed Eve back in his reality, Castiel immediately regained his abilities, and went straight into smite-mode. So why didn't that happen this time? Dean heard the explosion. That meant Eve was dead, right? So where was Castiel's divine wrath?

He wearily retrieved a smart phone from his tactical vest—the Syndicate was nothing if not technological—and launched a map with the coordinates to the cave already entered. It didn't look far. Confirming the direction with a compass, he began a lonely hike. He could still hear countless hunters in the distance. Occasionally, he even glimpsed them through the trees. But they were strangers, and their presence meant nothing. He longed for his brother, and cursed himself for letting his memories overwhelm him. He honestly thought he was in Purgatory. What the hell? True, every now and then, a flashback was perfectly normal, but Dean wasn't. He couldn't afford to be "normal." Not when Sam was in danger.

Maybe someone else managed to save him… Gwen or Prince Charming? Maybe he was already out of the cave, waiting for Dean to catch up.

God, he better be okay.

SPN

As much as it pained him to admit, Ethan was tired. They were almost to the lake, but damn, it was taking longer than he anticipated. The little runt wouldn't stop fighting, and to be honest, he wasn't as "little" as Ethan liked to imagine him. They weren't kids anymore, and naturally, the miserable wretch had the audacity to grow taller than his brother. What a nuisance!

They could use a short break. Ethan dropped his victim on the ground, kicking him in the stomach for good measure. While Sam curled up in a tight ball, coughing through his gag, Ethan paced around him in a small circle, shaking the tension from his arms, rolling his shoulders, catching his breath. They wouldn't have much time at the lake. The Syndicate would be searching for them, and while Sam deserved to suffer, Ethan had to be efficient. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to enjoy the body before disposing of it—and the bodies were half the fun.

Very well. When they reached the lake, they would jump straight into the water to maximize their time together. But for the moment, since they were taking a break anyway… Ethan smiled, opening his mouth to harass the kid, when suddenly, without the slightest bit of warning, Sam kicked his legs out, striking his captor in the knee.

Ethan tripped, stumbling forward. Sam kicked him again, and he slipped on patch of loose detritus—leaves, pine needles, acorns. The next thing he knew, he was rolling down the mountain.

Son of a—!

He crashed into a tree, nearly banging his head on a protruding root. Pain flared through his body, and he grimaced, scowling furiously. "You little bitch!" It took some effort, but he clambered to his feet and glared up at Sam with burning hatred. Even from a distance, he could see his victim wriggling around, desperate to worm his way out of his restraints. Well, that was never going to happen.

Clenching his fists, Ethan stormed up the mountain, practically seeing red—and Sam, like a proper victim, watched him come, helpless and horrified. A single act of self-preservation would cost him dearly, and he knew it.

"Any idea what the punishment is for defiance?" Having crossed the distance between them, Ethan kicked Sam hard in the stomach. He doubled over, grunting through his gag. Ethan sat down next to him and wrestled him onto his back. Then, he grabbed Sam's jaw and leaned in close. "That was your last kick, pretty boy. I'm gonna make sure of it."

After a brutal slap to the face, Ethan turned and straddled Sam's legs. He slid down to reach his bare feet, and he fingered his little toe.

Snap.

Sam howled, writhing in agony.

"We're just getting started," Ethan grumbled, fingering the next toe in line. Sam bucked his legs in a desperate attempt to dislodge him, but he relentlessly held on.

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

SPN

He was almost to the cave when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him.

"Dean…"

Cas.

Dean whipped his head around, heart skipping a beat when he caught sight of his friend. The angel was lying on the ground, soaked in his own blood, obviously hurt, with his blade lodged in his stomach.

"CAS!"

No! No! No! No!

He scrambled to the angel's side, falling to the ground next to him. "You'll be okay! You'll be okay, right!?"

There was blood dripping from his mouth. Not a good sign!

Cas moaned, clenching his eyes shut. "I'll be okay… I just… need to remove the blade…" He strained his arms, struggling in vain to lift them.

Dean didn't hesitate. With Eve dead, Cas should have his mojo back—he should be able to heal himself—as long as he wasn't hampered by angelic weapons. He reached for the blade, yanked it out, and dropped it on the ground. Cas grunted, wrenching his face in pain.

"Come on, man," Dean muttered, his heart hammering in his throat. "You can't do this to me."

"Place… my hand… on the injury…"

Dean anxiously obeyed.

A white light flashed from inside his gut, pouring out of the lesion with the sound of soft, resonating chimes. Moments later, the wound disappeared, and Cas sighed in relief.

Dean frowned. That was… different, somehow. The hell did he just witness?

Not that it mattered.

"Are you okay?"

Cas met his gaze, unable to keep from shaking. "I'm… better… but not at full strength… That… nearly killed me…" Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Dean!" He grabbed his wrist, clutching it tightly. "Your brother!"

Sammy…

"He needs help!" the angel gasped. "He's hurt, and he's praying to me! It's… It's Ethan… Ethan's taking him to a lake. He's gonna drown him!"

SPN

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