A/N

Okay SUPER short chapter. But bare with me, bare with me. I guess I must say that this is finally coming to an end. I know, I know. Actually, I kind of like how this chapter ends. Anyways, I hope to be putting up the next chapter soon. And I was thinking, I kind of want to keep writing fanfics, obviously, but it might be fun to just make them a series. So I guess I'll be thinking of a sequel soon, and if anyone has any ideas as the end nears, just let me know! Thanks again!

Chapter Eleven

There was only one problem with finding the car; Dean had forgotten where his keys were.

"Dean, what the fuck, you lost your keys?"

"Sorry Sammy, but I tho-"

"It's Sam." Dean glared at Sam but continued on.

"I thought that if I didn't have the car, the keys wouldn't be of any use to me. So I left them in my bag which happens to be in the house."

"Great," Sam ignored the glares that Dean sent in his direction. "How far is the house?"

"Far enough,"

"Dean…"

"What Sammy?" Dean answered gingerly, adding an emphasis to Sam's name.

"It's Sam." But Sam had barely finished saying his sentence before Dean took off at a jog. "Dean, where the fuck are you going?"

"Back to the house," Dean was getting pissed off. For once in his life, he didn't have the answers. For once in his life, he had made a mistake. Sam kept pestering him about what to do, why he didn't have his keys, and so on. But Dean had taken enough. The fact of the matter was he didn't know what to do. And for once in his life, Dean couldn't call his dad.

……………

They had made it back to the house in one piece. Although neither had intentions of grabbing the keys and heading back up to the car, they figured it would have to happen seeing as all the weapons were in the trunk of the impala. Dean had made his way to the room they had been staying in. He was going through his stuff while Sam waited patiently at the door, the boys facing opposite directions from each other.

"Dean…"

"What?" Dean responded over his shoulder.

"I don't think we're going to have time to go back up to the car," Dean whipped around to look at Sam. And what Dean saw almost made his heart stopIn the mere seconds between Sam talking and Dean whipping around, Sam had somehow managed to get on the floor, with a man standing over him with a knife.

"Don't move," the man Dean had seen earlier said. He was saying it to Dean, but looking at Sam. Dean took a step forward, obviously ignoring the threat coming his way. "I said, don't move."

"Okay, wait," Dean had to buy time. He needed something, but everything was locked in the trunk of his beloved impala which happened to be a long walk away. He had to figure out a plan.

"I said don't move," anger was most apparent on this 'man's' tone.

"Don't hurt him."

"Don't move," Dean had taken to staring the 'man' in the eyes. It was staring right back at him, and they seemed lost in a staring contest, neither willing to look away. Both had been too stuck in their staring to notice what else what was going on. Neither had noticed Sam wiggle his way out from underneath the 'man'. But Dean had not been taught to be blind, and not being able to see the entire room counted as blind. So as Sam slowly stood up behind the 'man', Dean was quick to notice.

"What's your favorite color?" the question took the 'man' by surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, what's your favorite color?" Dean didn't take his eyes away from the still going staring contest. And when silence was the only response Dean received, he went on to break the silence once again. "I hope you like black."

"What?" the 'man' didn't see the relevance of it, and he was getting angrier by the minute at Dean's foolish games.

"You're going to be seeing a lot of it soon," was the last thing Dean got in before Sam threw himself up onto the 'man' and Dean watched as the two hit the floor with an exceptionally loud thud.