I'm in hell, he stated simply. I died and went to hell.
There was a creaking groan and a slit of dim, blue light appeared before him. The tear in the darkness grew and dimly lit the room with a faint glow as Dean stared at the light that spilt onto the floor. He could not make out anything behind the opening but the room he was positioned in began to slowly reveal itself. It was small and tedious, the walls and floor appearing to be made out of cement. Dean's breath showed before him, a thin, white puff that vanished as quickly as it appeared in the chilly air.
A figure appeared in the opening, casting Dean into shadow. The form looked human yet darkness swirled around it, consuming the shape as it began to walk forward.
Dean strained to free himself from his restraints but the pain he felt grew and overwhelmed him to the point that he cried out. A laugh sounded in the room as the figure stopped a few feet away from Dean.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" came a shockingly human voice. Dean squinted up at the figure. "Who the hell are you?" the asked in a choked voice, pain tearing through his mind with the effort to speak.
The figure ignored him. "Don't worry," it said, taking a step closer. "The pain won't last forever. You'll get used to it." The form crouched down in front of Dean, running a damp hand across the young man's face. Dean flinched as he felt the thin wisps of smoke tickle his skin, but could not move away for fear of the pain that would reappear.
"I remember when I was once like you," came the voice again, calm and masculine. "I remember when I looked normal." The voice grew angry. "I had eyes like yours, dark hair, soft skin." He spat out the last word with venom in his voice.
Dean gritted his teeth, completely helpless. "Who the hell are you?" he asked again. The figure withdrew his hand. "Ah, of course. How rude of me to not introduce myself." The creature suddenly struck out his arm, seizing Dean's neck and pulling him close to his face. "I am Silas," it hissed. "I am the cursed one." The black smoke from the creature's hand began to slither up Dean's face asthe older Winchesterclenched his teeth in agony. "You are my prisoner." the voice said softly, almost gently before its tone grew angry and threatening once more. "I am your master."
Sam found himself in the police station once more. This time he did not stop by the secretary's desk to introduce himself. He had picked the lock of a side door and was now in the back of the building. He had one motivation, one purpose, to be in here. The woman. The woman was the only lead he had to the whereabouts of his brother. She was connected, he knew it, and she would tell him where Dean was.
She was coming out of her office down the hall when he first saw her. Wasting no time, he quickened his pace and reached her just as she was closing the door behind her. He didn't let the door shut, but instead pushed the woman into the room and locked the door behind him. Pinning her to the wall, one hand over the woman's mouth, Sam snarled, "Where's my brother?"
He removed his hand from her mouth, risking the chance of a scream, but was shocked when the woman began to laugh. It was not an ordinary laugh but sounded cruel, almost inhuman.
"You're brother?" she cackled. "You will never find him again." He pressed his arm against her neck. "Where is he?" he demanded to know.
The woman giggled. "He is with him."
"Him?" Sam whispered incredulously. "Who is he?" He increased the force of his arm, causing the woman to struggle.
"The Cursed One! You're brother is his slave, his servant! He will never escape. You're brother is lost from you!"
"Where is he?" Sam was shouting it now, anger blazing in his eyes. He didn't care if anyone heard him. He just needed to find his brother.
The woman began to laugh again as her eyes became crazed and detached. Sam knew she wasn't with him anymore. She wouldn't be able to answer his questions.
He let her drop to the ground where she became silent and unmoving, sitting up against the wall and staring into space. Sam left her like that, entering the hallway once more and exiting the building through the side door.
He made his way back to the parking lot where the Impala was parked. As he rounded the corner he noticed someone sitting in the front seat of the black car. He began to jog towards the Chevy Impala. "Hey!" he shouted. "That's not your car!"
Sam couldn't believe his eyes once he reached the car. Dean was sitting behind the wheel, one hand thrown over the seat and a grin on his face.