The moon burst through the trees, catching 16 year old Dean half out of Louisa-May's second floor bedroom window.

"See you at school tomorrow." the roguish teen winked, leaning back in through the window for one last kiss before creeping across the roof and climbing down. He moved silently across the lawn and headed off down the block towards where he had stashed his father's car. He grinned and ran his hand through his hair. Damn, Louisa-May, the prettiest girl in this hell-hole of a town, chose to spend her nights with him.

Suddenly someone stepped out of the bushes behind him, interrupting his thoughts. One arm wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides. Before Dean had a chance to fight back a cloth soaked with something sweet was held over his nose and mouth. His legs and arms felt numb as he collapsed on the cold concreate. A dark figure loomed over him and started to drag him towards the car. Dean blacked out.

Dean shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain. His wrists were tied to the back of a slatted chair with what felt like paracord and another set of ropes were wrapped around his upper biceps. His legs were also tied at his knees and ankles and pulled back under the chair, his bare feet barely touching the cold cement. A blindfold was tied tightly over his eyes. A light source hung somewhere above him, swaying ever so slightly, and a bone chilling wind blew through his thin t-shirt and shorts.

"Good," a gruff voice echoed, " you're awake." The voice sounded rough and strained, as if the man were horse, or trying to disguise his voice.

"What the fuck do you want?" Dean spat, struggling against the ropes. He felt the man loom over him and a dark figure blocked out the light above him. A heavy hand reached over his shoulder, bracing against the back of the chair. The man's breath smelled of cheap beer, and Dean shied away from his presence.

"You're going to tell me where to find John and Sam Winchester."

"You can go to hell!" Dean spat. Without warning, the man punched him in the ribs, knocking the air from the boy's lungs. Dean bent forward, coughing violently, desperately trying to regain his breath. The ropes around his upper arms cut into his skin with every heaving breath.

"Where," the man hissed, grabbing Dean's hair and wrenching his head back, "is John Winchester and your brother."

"I said, go to hell!" The man released Dean and his footsteps retreated a few paces. Dean could hear him rummaging around in something, before he walked back towards the boy.

"Now just remember," The man hissed, trailing something cold and metallic down the side of Dean's face, "This is of your choosing. The moment you want it to stop, all you've got to do is tell me what I want to hear."

"Fuck you!" Dean replied, trying to jerk away. The man ignored him, tracing the metal object down Dean's chest before reaching the hem of his t-shirt and beginning to cut upward. Dean flinched at the cold steel of the scissors against his bare skin. The man worked in complete silence, cutting open the front of Dean's shirt and then pouring water down his bare chest. The boy shivered, trying desperately to remain calm.

Suddenly something cold was pressed against his chest, sending electricity coursing through his body.

"Aaaaaaaaaagh!" Dean cried out, thrashing against his bonds.

"Where are John and Sam Winchester!" The man demanded, releasing him for a moment.

"I don't know!" Dean panted, his breath shaky and uneven.

"Oh, I think you do," the man growled, pushing the prod against Dean's skin.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!" He pulled and jerked against the ropes until they cut into his already raw skin, sending trickles of blood down his arms. "I don't know! I swear! Please!"

The man stopped for a moment, looming over the shaking teen. "Tell me where they are."

"I swear I don't know!" Dean sobbed, "Please don't! No! Please! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!"

"Tell me!" The man yelled.

"Please! Please, stop!" He was shaking, his whole body quivering. John would be back at the motel by now, he could protect Sam, right? Dean dreaded the beating he would get if his dad found out he gave them up, but he didn't know how much more of this he could take.

"Where are they?" Dean remained silent, gasping for breath. The man moved in front of the light.

"No! No! Please!" Dean begged "I'll tell you, ok? They're in a motel, off of highway 6, room 209."

Silence surrounded Dean, save for the ringing in his ears. Suddenly, the blindfold was ripped off. Dean blinked, blinded by the single bare light bulb swinging above him. He could just barely make out a shadowy figure beyond the light. It moved toward him, knife in hand. Dean struggled to make his eyes focus.

"Dad?"

John, moved around Dean, slicing through the ropes that bound him to the chair.

"You failed." John said, stuffing what looked like a modified cattle prod into his duffle bag. "Because of you, Sam and I are now dead."

Dean tried to stand up, but his legs, numb from being tied for so long, collapsed under him. John glanced back at his son.

"Clean yourself up, and then get home. I found a case two states over. We leave in the morning."

The door clanged shut behind him, leaving Dean, shirt cut open with burns on his chest and blood running down his arms, silently sobbing on the cement floor.