A/n: Alright so I have an update on this story's progression so that means another chapter has to be posted. I have officially finally found my story arc and have already wrote part of the ending for this story! I'm both excited and sad as well as very eager to write this. That being said, I'm still not sure when this will be finished but once I feel comfortable with the amount and what I have written, I will start posting regularly. I plan on posting Wednesdays when I do start up again, just like I did with "He's My Brother." I'm pretty sure this is how the second chapter is going to go, but there is a small chance I may change it a bit once I start posting regularly.

I'd like to thank everyone who reads, reviews, follows, and/or favorites this story and/or me. A special thank you to mckydstarlight, See See, hectatess, jojospn, and Shadowpletlove for all your recent reviews. Mckydstarlight, hectatess, and jojospn, it's awesome and I'm so grateful to hear from you guys again! I know you were all with me throughout all of "He's My Brother" and I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am to see you all back for this one. As well of course as the rest of those who reviewed and are following. You all are awesome! But a very very special thanks to LilyBolt. You haven't just followed and reviewed, you are part of why I'm able to do this sequel. I wasn't sure I should and yet not only did you have faith in me, but you also helped me find my arc. Thank you doesn't even begin to cover it. You are truly phenomenal.

Chapter 2

When Dean opened his eyes again, he was just as confused as he had been the first time. There were many differences to when he came to in the too small grave with a few similarities, the first one being he couldn't tell if his eyes were opened or closed. Much like the first time, he only knew when he blinked from hearing his lashes as he rapidly opened and closed his eyes. This time the air wasn't stale when Dean took a breath, but it still didn't feel like it was fresh air either. It was more like it was stuffy, in need of some circulation throughout where ever he was.

Thankfully there was no smell of rot or earth, in fact he couldn't smell anything nor could he hear anything. Instead of nasty decaying wood, he was laying on what felt like a firm cot with a blanket or two which was an improvement and would have been better had he not noticed how uncomfortable his wrists were. Although he wasn't in nearly as tight a space as he had been in the old wooden box he had been stuffed in, he was restricted. He could feel his hands bound securely with heavy chains which he guessed were iron. When he tried to move, he found they were fastened to something else close by, more than likely the wall behind him.

"What the fuck?" He mumbled to himself as he moved his arm as though he were a puppet confused by his strings. "Hey!" He called out. "HEY!" Dean began to cough as he rubbed tenderly at his throat. He sat like that for awhile until finally he heard the first sound that wasn't his echo bouncing off the walls when he yelled. It was footsteps approaching. The eldest Winchester's heart began to race and his stomach felt as though it had dropped. There was the sound of a heavy door opening and Dean was once again blinded with light this time it was artificial and not natural. He hissed and squeezed his eyes shut before slowly cracking one open and then other. The elder Winchester brother was still adjusting to the sudden brightness, but he got an idea of where his new prison was. Or at least a vague idea. Dean appeared to be in what looked like a circular room that had concrete walls all around him with one large door made out of a sturdy material. Iron? He had been correct about the cot and blankets and when he peered up, he noticed what most would think is either a star or a pentagram made from the same material as the door.

Having taken in his surroundings, the elder Winchester rotated his head in the direction of the newcomer. It was a man who was the same height or thereabouts as Dean but with a bit more muscular build and much darker skin. He wore his black hair a little more than a shave and his facial hair nice and neat. He was wearing a faded red and grey plaid flannel with jeans and a pair of lace up boots. His dark eyes were fastened on the man on the cot and Dean instantly knew who he was. Even without ever having actually gotten a clear look at him before.

"And that kids, is why you never hitchhike," the elder Winchester jested hoarsely.

"I'm glad to see you're finally awake Dean, you've been out for some time."

"Yeah well, I thought you said you'd wake me when we got to South Dakota. We there already?"

"Funny. Keep that humor, it'll get you through this. Now we can do this the easy way, you tell me everything I want to know; or we can do this the hard way, you tell me everything I want to know in a less...pleasant manner. Choice is yours."

Dean sat with his hands resting on the cot and his eyes fixed on his capturer. "Well Gordy, you see, I've never been good with multiple choice, but I'm also not the 'easy way out' kinda guy." The men stared at each other in silence, neither one of them turning their attention elsewhere or looking away.

"Fair enough. Me personally, I've always excelled at it and truth be told, I'm determined. I will find out what I need to know in order to do what that pansy ass Bobby Singer refuses to."

Dean snickered. "I don't think we're talking about the same guy. You must have him confused with some other Bobby Singer."

"Five foot something guy, wears a trucker cap, owns a salvage company, lives in a family home alone, calls people 'Idjits.' Ring any bells?" The elder Winchester simply stared. "Yeah that's what I thought. You see, some time ago, Bobby and the Harvelle's had a hand in opening up the Gates of Hell and letting loose thousands of demons. Turns out however that they weren't alone. Some guy named Sam Winchester, if you can call him a guy, was the one who actually opened the Gates." Dean's stomach turned as Gordon told his story. "Rumor has it this 'guy' is part demon and is actually the true vessel of, get this, the devil himself. But you already know all that, don't you? Cause that thing is your brother."

"All I know is that kind of talk can land you in the Nuthouse. You shouldn't believe every campfire story you hear." Dean remarked trying not to show emotion despite wanting rip the man apart for having referred to his family as a thing.

"That's just the thing, I heard it from someone that was actually there. And you know something else? I have it on good authority that you were there too. Heard you died that night. Makes sense why I found you looking like you took a dirt nap. What it doesn't explain is how you're here walking and talking and why you aren't missing a good portion of your head. Luckily for you, I'm more interested in your demonic brother at the moment."

The elder Winchester kept his best poker face that consisted of a slight mocking smirk. "Oh yeah, who told you all this? The Crypt Keeper?"

"You think this is cute Dean?" Gordon asked with heat in his tone.

"I think it's adorable," he shot back. "And I think you may be a few fries short of a Happy Meal."

Now it was capturer's turn to scoff. "That's real rich coming from a dead guy who's brother has demon blood pumping through his veins. You can play dumb all you want Dean, sooner or later I will find out what I need to know and then I'll end that filthy demon spawn's life. Sam Winchester must die. In the meantime, I'll give you some time to think," The man remarked.

"You know what I think?" the elder Winchester retorted, "I think you were dropped you on your head one too many times." The elder Winchester didn't have time to react as one of Gordon's fists made contact with Dean's left cheek. A surprised shout escaped him and he could already feel his lip beginning to swell. There was another swift punch to the other side of his face quickly followed by a fist to his stomach. Dean doubled over with a groan as he felt nausea rise and his head swim. Without another word, Gordon turned and marched out of the room, slamming and locking the door behind him and submerging Dean into darkness once more.

He wasn't focused on the dark or the pain that was throbbing in the spots that had come into contact with the angry man, they were on his words. He felt a fire in the pit of his stomach and although it hurt, it hadn't been from the punch. Someone had told this guy about the incident at the Gates of Hell. More importantly, someone had been playing both sides of the fields and reporting back which ultimately put Sam in danger. Dean tried to remember who had been there that victorious and fateful night. He had of course, but he'd been battling control from the yellow eyed demon and he'd rather die than hurt his family in anyway. It couldn't have been the demon either. He'd been too occupied trying to get close to Sam the second he had made himself cozy in his new vessel.

Their mother had been there. Although the eldest Winchester couldn't recall everything from his time of possession, he knew she had been there because the first thing he had seen when he had won back control, had been her body. Even before that, she wouldn't betray her family either.

Bobby had been there, Dean vaguely recalled getting glimpses of the man as he tried to keep himself at least conscious through as much of his time not in control as possibly. After having seen his willingness to help his brother it made sense he would have been there. Although neither of them had known the hunter for long, Dean knew that it would be highly unlikely that Bobby would do something like that to the Winchesters.

Gordon had also mentioned the Harvelle's. That name seemed like one he somewhat recalled, but he couldn't put a face or memory to the name. His best guess was that they were introduced to his family after he'd been possessed and when he didn't win the struggle for consciousness. Which had been the vast majority of the time. Having no recollection of anyone with the name, they were the most likely candidates. Unless of course someone else had witnessed that night, possibly unseen by everyone.

His time possessed had seemed almost like a dream or a blur of events that seemed impossible to string together to create any kind of sense. Because it was all so unclear, the words Gordon spewed about his brother seemed likely a myth used to put Sam at risk. Part demon? Sam? Sure his brother had his bitch moments and right up to the moment Dean had pulled the trigger to save his sibling, the elder Winchester had thought the younger man had hated him. Though when you do something as drastic as shooting yourself in the head, most people with a soul will say anything they think you want to hear to stop you. It's for that reason Dean wasn't sure what to make of it. But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was finding out how to get away from his prison and capturer and find out the answer to the million dollar question; where is Sam Winchester?

A/n: Thank you all again for your time, thoughts, and patience with this story. And again, thank you LilyBolt for helping make this happen.