"Alright, what do we got?" Dean absently scratched at the healing cuts under his sleeve. They were in Bobby's kitchen, going over a possible case in a nearby town.

"Dunno yet. Bunch of graves dug up, corpses missin'. Could be a hundred things."

"When did it start?" Sam asked, digging around in the fridge for a drink.

"Well, it's been happenin' about every ten years, give or take a couple months. Dates back to 1964."

"Hmm..." Sam shut the fridge and glanced at Dean. "We're out of beer."

"Again?" Bobby asked incredulously. "Dammit Dean, how much you been drinkin'?"

"Come on, it's not just me."

"Yeah, but Bobby and I have like two a day. It's 10 AM and you're on your second bottle." Sam pointed out.

Dean ignored the concern in his brother's voice. "Fine. I'll go get more hunter's helper. While I'm out, I'll go over to Renner and check out the empty graves, see what info I can get from the locals."

"You sure you should be drivin'?"

Sam laughed. "Don't worry, Bobby. I'm not sure he can even get drunk anymore."

"Shut up, Sam. Sure I can! Just takes a hell of a lot more than two beers." He headed for the door. "You two do the usual drill, hack into police reports, all that fun stuff. Call me if you find anything weird."

It was only a twenty minute drive, but Dean felt his mind wandering to dark places. What if he just crashed his car? He could make his death look like an accident. Or blame it on demons.

No, he couldn't do that to Baby.

He sighed. He belonged in Hell. He deserved to be tortured. The next time around, he wouldn't get off the rack. He'd stay on, and let Alistair do his worst. Screw the angels and their plan. They wouldn't tell him what it was anyway. They could find someone else.

He made it to Renner, and parked the Impala just outside the Cemetery. As he made his way to the area marked off by crime scene tape, he let his gaze sweep over the many graves. Each one represented a soul. Who knew how many he had tortured...

Upon reaching the empty graves, he immediately noted that they had been cracked from the outside in. Alright, so at least the dead weren't rising out of their own accord. The next thing that caught his attention was a grayish solution that pooled around the coffins. Embalming fluid. So the corpses had been cracked open. Interesting.

Suddenly he noticed a woman wearing a dirty white dress standing off in the trees a few yards away. Oookay, that wasn't creepy at all...She smiled at him, and then disappeared. Definitely worth checking out.

He cautiously walked over to the small grove of trees, hand on his gun. The woman stepped out from behind a large bush. Before he had time to say or do anything, he was struck by a blinding, white-hot pain in the side of his head. Then it all went dark.

5:30 PM

"Hey, don't you think Dean should have called by now?"

Bobby snorted. "Most likely, he's in a bar. Probably lost track of time."

Sam dialed Dean's number. It rang, but went to voicemail. "Huh. That's weird."

"Might just have his phone off."

"No, it actually rang. He just didn't pick up. That's not a good sign."

Bobby frowned. "You're right." He grabbed his keys. "Okay, let's go save the idjit."

"Eat dirt and die, bitch!"

For the last six hours, Dean had been chained to a table in what he assumed was a crypt under the cemetery. He'd woken up, dizzy and disoriented. He'd spent five hours trying to escape, but the iron shackles they had him in were too strong. His cell phone was no where in sight. Even if it was, there was a slim chance he'd get reception here.

An hour ago, the ghouls had finally shown their ugly faces. They'd been taunting him, trying to make him afraid. Apparently they were sick of dead meat, and wanted to step up their game. And the rumor was that fear made humans taste extra-yummy.

"Language! Is that any way to talk to a lady?" One of the ghouls feigned offense.

"You're no lady. You're an ugly, two faced bitch. I know you change into whatever rotting corpse you ate last." Dean laughed. No matter what they did to him, they couldn't make him afraid. He wasn't afraid of pain, and certainly not of death. He was already dead inside.

She sighed. "I'm getting impatient. Let's just eat him."

"Sounds like a plan." The male drew a knife from his belt.

Dean should have felt scared and vulnerable. After all, he was laying spread-eagled on a cement table, and chained so he was basically motionless. He was about to die. But he couldn't have cared less. Hell, he was actually excited about it. This just meant he wouldn't have to do it himself.

The ghoul jerked Dean's sleeve up to his elbow, and looked surprised. "Well, what have we here?"

The female stepped closer to take a look. She saw the many cuts and scars and laughed. "Looks like you got started without us, honey."

"Shut your damn mouths and finish the job already."

"This is an unexpected turn of events. Kinda takes the fun out of it."

"I said finish it!" Dean spat. The more time passed, the greater his chances of being rescued.

She shrugged. "If you insist."

They positioned a bowl under each wrist to catch the falling blood. "Are you ready to die?" The ghoul whispered into his ear.

"You have no fucking idea."

The ghouls shared a sadistic smile, and started bleeding him. A vertical cut spanning from his wrist to his elbow. God, it hurt so bad. Dean felt himself laughing. This is exactly what he'd been planning to do if he didn't die on a hunt soon. The irony was awesome.

My god, the cuts were so deep...the beautiful red blood flowed freely into the bowls. Dean felt his vision start to go dark around the edges. He smiled and closed his eyes. This was the moment he'd been waiting for.

As if on cue, Sam and Bobby came crashing through the ceiling. Bobby landed on one of the ghouls, and Sam started taking out the other.

"No!" Dean felt a scream rise up out of his throat. No, no...he had to die...

While doing their research, Sam and Bobby had discovered that an old crypt lay underneath the cemetery. They found the nearest opening, which just happened to be above where Dean was being held.

Sam gasped when he saw his brother chained to a table, blood gushing out of his wrists. The minute Dean saw him, he didn't look relieved, as he should have been. Instead, he looked disappointed. "No!" A heart-wrenching cry came from Dean's weak body.

Sam was confused. Why didn't Dean want to be saved?

"Sam, they're ghouls!" Bobby yelled.

Right. That meant headshot.

The hunters quickly incapacitated the creatures with a shotgun to the head, then turned their attention to Dean.

He was unconscious now, barely breathing. "Shit..." Sam swore, ripping a section of his shirt for a tourniquet.

Bobby did the same. "We gotta get him to a hospital, Sam."

Bobby sped the whole way to the hospital. Sam spent the 20 minute drive in the backseat, cradling Dean's head in his lap and trying to put as much pressure on the wounds as he could without hurting his brother even more.

"Keep holding on, don't you die on me again." Sam's voice broke. He'd just gotten Dean back, he couldn't lose him again...

Upon reaching the ER, Dean was wheeled into surgery immediately. Bobby and Sam waited anxiously in the lobby.

To Sam's surprise, No cops came out asking what had happened. Normally they would be all over the place, asking questions about how the boys had obtained their injuries.

An hour later

"Sam...Afromian?" Sam jumped out of his seat at the sound of the fake name he was using.

"Doc, how is he?"

"Physically, he'll be fine. He lost a lot of blood, but he'll heal."

"Wait, what do you mean physically?"

"Mr. Afromian, were you aware that your brother has been self-harming? Or that he was suicidal?"

Sam froze. They think Dean did this to himself. No wonder they hadn't come asking questions. Well, they could use this to their advantage.

"I...I mean he's been depressed, but I never thought he'd do this to himself..."

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "It often comes as a shock to those closest to the victims of depression. They learn to hide it well. We recommend he stay with us for a minimum of a week. We'll keep him on suicide watch, and make sure his injuries heal."

"Thanks. Can we see him now?" Bobby asked.

"Sure thing. He'll be out for a little longer though, he's still coming out of the anesthesia."

They followed the doctor to Dean's room, and Sam pulled up a chair by his brother's side. He looked at the bandages, but then noticed something odd...

Above the bandage were several smaller cuts and scars. Some of them looked fresh, but not new enough to have been inflicted by the ghouls. And they were in a straight line...a pattern...they looked so deliberate.

Sam's breath caught in his throat as he realized what they were. He put together the pieces. Dean's constant drinking. The nightmares. How he had yelled "no" when being rescued.

"were you aware that your brother has been self-harming?"

Dean didn't want to be saved...

And that broke Sam's heart more than anything.