A/n: Hey everyone. Alright so I've been super busy and I've had major writer's block so I sadly haven't been able to write anything recently. I can tell you I'm currently on chapter 11 for this story as well as have some of the end written out. As I've said before, I'll keep you guys posted if anything changes, but as of right now, I do plan on finishing this story. I don't know when (I'm going to be moving in a few months so I'm going to be super busy towards the end of this year and beginning of the next), and I'll send out chapters to keep you informed, but I do plan on seeing this through. I figured I would post today instead of Wednesday this week since I'm going to be at Disneyland Wednesday and they have terrible reception there and drain my phone battery.

Thank you of course to all my followers as well as any one who reads, reviews, and/or favorites this story and/or me. A special thank you to hectatess, Shadowpletlove, and LilyBolt for your recent reviews.

Also I just want to give a warning there is some light torture in this chapter.

Chapter 3

With no windows it was impossible for Dean to know how long he had been sitting in the holding room before he heard footsteps again. Just like before, there was the sound of the iron door opening, the lights flashed on, and Gordon approached him. He was holding a water bottle and an apple in one hand which even though the elder Winchester didn't really care for apples, unless they were in a pie, he felt his stomach rumble involuntarily.

"Hungry?" Gordon asked. The prisoner didn't respond. "Here's the deal, you tell me where your so-called brother is, and I'll give you these."

"Sounds good," Dean responded in a raspy dry voice. "Here's my counter...go fuck yourself."

His capturer shook his head and sighed. "I really think you should reconsider Dean. You aren't going to like what comes next if you continue to refuse."

"Well," the elder Winchester shrugged with a tired smug grin "I guess we'll find out. Won't we?"

Gordon shook his head once more. "It's your funeral man." With that, he turned away and left, taking the food, water, and light with him. Dean swallowed and rested his head against the wall as he closed his eyes.

What had happened after he had died? It was as though everything he had known had changed. Although when he thought back, it had changed the night he had shown up on Sam's doorstep. Things had been fine, normal, par for the course for the Winchesters. Mary had been working a normal job at a local restaurant as a waitress, he had been working at the same garage that he'd worked at since he was fifteen, and Sam had been in California at Standford getting a degree in law. And married, as Dean later learned from an unpleasant interrogation session after his sister-in-law's death.

Dean had helped out around the house both when he wasn't living at home and when he was and he'd been rewarded with a nice homemade meal. Sam would call, their mom from time to time to check in, but only ever her. If Dean was there when her youngest called, she'd always put him on speaker and announce that his brother was there too. Sam would acknowledge him and make small talk before all of the sudden he just remembered he had something else that needed to be done that second that also required his full attention and he'd bid them goodbye. It didn't go unnoticed by either of them and he remembered a time their mom had tried to call her youngest out on it, but Sam wiggled his way free with his impeccable ability to talk his way out of anything. His younger sibling was gifted with not only the ultimate puppy dog eyed look, but also the voice of someone who had just had their puppy dog kicked. Dean admitted that despite their rocky relationship, he'd fallen for it a few times himself. Of course so did Mary.

The thought of their mother caused the stone in the stomach feeling to return to him and he could feel tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Between clawing his way out of his grave and being kidnapped by a psycho, Dean hadn't had a whole lot of time to think about Mary. The imagery from that night came back as though an old movie reel had started rolling in his head, creating a disturbing mental picture that he couldn't turn off or hide from. He remembered her lifeless eyes and her lips which had been parted slightly like she was going to say something but didn't get the chance to. Worst of all, he remembered who's hands had snapped her neck. Or rather, who's fingers. The elder Winchester began to shake and felt his body try to purge itself at the memory. The same feeling of needles he had felt when he first took a breath had returned and with nothing to actually vomit, he instead coughed until they turned into painful dry heaves.

He didn't get a chance to reflect on anything more as once again he heard Gordon's boots drawing near. However, there was a new sound that accompanied him this time. It was a high pitch squealing noise along with the sound of something rolling on the ground. When the door opened the room lit up and the item that had created all the rackus was the first thing he saw followed by the man holding him prisoner. It was a metal tray on a cart with wheels and an old dirty sheet thrown over the top of it. As he continued to push the cart, Dean could hear rattling coming from under the cloth. He felt his heartbeat pick up but did well to keep his face emotionless as Gordon approached.

"You know you should really oil that thing, it's killer on the ears."

The man continued on as though he hadn't heard him until he came to a stop in front of him.

"Last chance to cooperate with me Dean," he warned.

"Pass," he choked out.

Gordon shook his head. "Alright, have it your way." He pulled back the sheet to reveal various tools and though it was more like something he'd seen in the movies than he's experienced in life, Dean had a pretty good idea about what was coming next. Still managing to pull off a glare that masked his true thoughts of his situation, he simply stared at Gordon who grabbed his left hand and placed a burlap sack over it, sealing it at his wrist with a zip tie and doing the same with his right. "Sam Winchester," the very sound of his brother's name being said by the psychopath now wielding a small knife put a mix of sick and fire in his belly "where is he?"

"Go fuck yourself," Dean responded with his tone full of venom.

"Wrong answer," Gordon slid the edge of the knife along his prisoner's face swiftly. The elder brother hissed through his teeth. "Where is Sam Winchester?" Another colorful response was given and a deeper cut was made, this time by his clavical. The two of them went back and forth, Gordon with insisting on Dean telling him where his brother was, Dean on his refusals answered by another cut somewhere new and a little deeper every time. Finally the man before him sighed and put down the knife. "I don't get it," he replied as his eyes danced around the items at his disposal, "at this rate you're as inhuman as that demon filth you're protecting. Don't you wanna live in a world where people don't have to walk among things that go bump in the night? That's all I want. For the evil that inhabits our earth to be eradicated. I'm just like any other guy, any other hunter. I'm just trying to do my job. Nothing more nothing less. I'm not the bad guy here Dean. Sam is. Sooner or later, you've gotta see that. He's a monster."

"You're wrong," Dean said simply as he shook his head.

"I'm really not." The hunter finally settled on his next weapon of choice, taking up what looked like a small sharp stake in on hand and a pair of scissors in the other. The elder Winchester watched as Gordon snipped the tie and removed the bag from his right hand. Putting down the scissors, he gripped Dean's hand tightly so he couldn't move it and brought the stake like object so that it dug and pricked underneath his dirty index fingernail. The prisoner let out a loud involuntary scream and tried to pull himself away only causing the tip to jab in further under into his skin. Tears pricked at his eyes.

"You can cut me up," his voice was barely more than a whisper "you can starve me, dehydrate me, torture me however you want. I'm not telling you a God damn thing about Sam." His response was another stab under his thumbnail causing Dean to scream again.

"You shouldn't use the Lord's name in vain," he scolded before moving on to staking under his pinky nail. Dean let out another scream though this one sounded more scratchy. "You know what the best part about a panic room is Dean? It's practically sound proof and hard to break in or out of. I can keep you here as long as it takes and no one has any idea." The elder brother knew that didn't matter when no one knew he was alive anyways, but he decided it was best that he didn't say anything about that. The less the hunter knew about him or his brother, the better.

Gordon continued to torture his prisoner until finally he put down the device onto the tray again and grabbed a hand towel which he dipped in a small bowl of water that was next to the tools and began to wipe Dean's blood from his hands. His eyes scanned over his prisoner as if admiring his work and already coming up with an idea as to where he would start when he picked it up again. He threw the towel down and returned the sheet to cover the items.

"Anyone ever tell you" Dean sounded as though he was going to pass out at any moment now "you're crappy at manicures?"

"I'll warrant you this much, you've got spunk. Unfortunately, that's not going to do you any good." With the prisoner spent and barely conscious, Gordon rolled the cart back out of the room and closed the door behind them.

For the first time since he had been taken by the hunter, Dean felt grateful that there were no lights. Not that he could see himself or that anyone else could see him anyways. He sat with both bloody hands free from the bags palms up and resting on his legs and his body sagged against the wall. His already dry and parched throat felt as though he had swallowed fire and gravel at the same time and his stomach let out a low rumble. Although his body was still aching and his fingernails were still throbbing, Dean tried his best to shut the pain and everything else out and go to sleep.

He wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious when he woke to a noise he hadn't heard or expected. It sounded like a loud flapping of wings, as though a giant bird had entered. Dean's eyes darted around the dark room, but without any light, it was useless.

"H-hello?" He tried to call out in a hoarse whisper. No one responded but the prisoner was aware that he was not alone. Unable to do anything but continue to sit on the cot, he kept his senses as sharp as he could. Without any warning, Dean felt something press against his forehead and his head began to spin causing him to feel queasy. Even though he knew it didn't make any deference, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the spinning to stop.

"You're alright now." The new voice was deep and unfamiliar to the elder Winchester. He opened his eyes, and he was grateful in that moment he hadn't had anything to eat. He blinked a few times, feeling like he'd just got off of a spinning ride and looked into the blue eyes of the stranger who had spoken to him. The face appeared to have no expression as it stared back.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked the man unsure if he was friend or foe.

"I'm Castiel. I'm an angel of the Lord."

A/n: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think so far and again, I really appreciate your patience with me and this story.