Disclaimer: Thought I should just remind you all that no, I don't own Supernatural.

Warning: I think you've gotten the drift by now.

Chapter 11: Mena

Sam woke with a headache that seemed to pound throughout his whole body, making him shake, or tremble. The room was dark, and he had a hard time putting it together that that was because he had his eyes closed. He kept them closed though, thinking, or knowing instinctively, that opening them would take a lot of hard work and only end in a little more pain to add to the lake of it building inside of him.

He groaned, shifting slightly on the hard, cold ground, and he flinched when a hand touched his cheek. But a soothing voice, incoherent in the jumble of his head, let him know he could rest, and he drifted for a moment in a lesser darkness than unconsciousness.

Then a loud banging came and he winced, again as he heard screaming. He groaned, crying out softly as it seemed like everything began aching, curling up slightly. He opened his eyes.

The dim light of the cell seemed to shatter his sight for a moment, and he blinked, fixing his eyes and bringing them to focus on a rectangular blackness in the wall. It took him a moment to realize it was a door.

A second later he heard the voice again, and he struggled to concentrate on it, rolling over slightly to get a good look at the girl who had been helping him.

He recognised Anya seconds later and he smiled slightly, before wincing. Another scream made him cringe, and struggled to his elbows, waiting there as the room began to spin.

"Sam," Anya breathed in the abrupt quiet that followed a slamming door. He heard it, and knew the sounds, and he turned to her.

"Help me up, Anya," he half-ordered, flailing slightly as he tried to keep still. She made a noise that he recognised as frustration, but still got behind him, helping him to sit completely up. But she didn't let him go, for which he was grateful. Not that she would ever know that. Instead, she helped him slide back, until he was leaning against the cold wall. He put a hand to his heart, wincing as some aches subsided, leaving localised pain in his head, heart and stomach.

"What happened?" he asked, turning to Anya where she was leaning beside him. She looked at him.

"What do you remember?" she asked back, looking a little sad. Sam shrugged and instantly regretted it as the bullet in his shoulder made itself known once more. He had almost forgotten about it. In fact, that whole fight was a little hazy, worryingly so considering it hadn't been that long ago.

"Not much," the hunter admitted, putting a hand to his head. "There was a… a demon?"

Anya bit her lip, but nodded. She was obviously worried. "Yeah, the demon who is running Mahone. The bastard made a deal, the demon didn't take the payment, at least not like it should have. And now Mahone's giving it people in return for keeping his life."

She sighed, looking away slightly. "Then Mahone got a phone call about your lie, and he got angry. He tried to attack you, but the demon stopped him. We all had a bit of a fight, and then the demon stopped it. It grabbed me…" She motioned at her jaw and for the first time he noticed the bruising hand mark around it. He frowned, and memory came back.

"It was trying to kill you," Sam muttered, looking away and down. "I tackled it… then it… it made a deal?"

"A deal?" Anya asked. "What do you mean?"

Sam shook his head, rubbing his eyes and feeling very tired all of a sudden. "I don't know. It said something about sealing deals with a handshake, and it grabbed my hand… The rest is blank." He looked up at her. "What happened after I fell unconscious?"

She shook her head. "Not much. Mahone got another phone call… something happened at the club. Something to do with Ash and Dean, I'm guessing."

Sam gave a slight chuckle, and wished he hadn't, when he felt nausea return. Grimacing, he shook his head. "They got away, I'm sure of it. I know he's still out there."

Anya nodded. "Well, Mahone wasn't very happy when he left." She smiled. "I'm guessing they're still out there, too."

Sam nodded and laid his head back against the wall. Feeling tired, he closed his eyes, barely even flinching when he felt Anya's hand on his.

"Sam, you okay?" she asked quietly. He nodded without opening his eyes.

"Fine, just feeling a little tired. It's been a big day."

She gave a small snort. "I know. Maybe it's your concussion. I don't think the bleeding stopped until just a while ago."

Sam's eyes shot open, something – he didn't really think it was worry – churning his gut.

"How long was I out?" he asked, staring at her and refusing to let the double vision worry him. She shrugged, frowning as she caught his anxiety.

"Don't know. Maybe an hour, a little longer."

Sam put a hand to the back of his head, feeling blindly about. Tiny flakes of dried blood came away with his hand, and he shook his head, staring at the flecked limb in front of him.

"The demon did something to me," he breathed, wishing he hadn't when Anya's face fell.

"What?" she demanded, getting to her knees as if ready to fight. But Sam shook his head.

"I don't know. But it shouldn't have taken that long for the bleeding to stop. It did something to me." That bubble of anxiety was growing, and it wasn't doing the ache in his gut any good.

A knock at the door interrupted both of their worry, making them jump. Anya stood and after a moment, helped Sam to his feet as well. They both wanted to face Mahone's latest challenge proudly, and Sam would be damned if he let a little weakness and vertigo stop him from that.

A second knock made them share a look, realizing that it was doubtful that Mahone would knock once, let alone twice. Anya just shrugged, and looked back at the door.

"Come in," Sam suggested quietly, adjusting his voice so he knew it wouldn't carry much farther past the door. And the door opened slowly, just enough so a small head could peek through.

It was a woman, in her late twenties, obviously timid, limp brown hair framing a pale face that hadn't seen the sun in a while. Her eyes darted about everywhere, never resting on one thing too long, always expecting an attack. Sam and Anya shared another glance as she came in and shut the door behind her.

"Who are you?" Anya demanded, taking a protective step forward that made Sam want to roll his eyes. He didn't, keeping his gaze firmly on the woman instead.

Her eyes continued to dart about, seeking refuge that wasn't there. "My name's Mena. Do you want something to eat, or drink?"

"Eat, or drink?" Sam repeated, not knowing what was going on. Was this some ploy of Mahone's?

But Mena nodded earnestly, pulling a bag around to the front and diving into it.

"What is this?" Anya spat suddenly, making the woman jump. "What do you want?"

The woman began backing away, frightened by the display of anger. "I swear, nothing. Isaac doesn't know I'm here. I… I just wanted to help you get used to life down here… I know you must be hungry, and thirsty…"

She trailed off, eyes planted firmly on them, hand feeling about behind her for the door. Sam lurched forward as he realized they were about to lose the one possible source of help available to them.

"Mena, wait," he begged softly, making his movements as slow and unthreatening as he could. "Please… we are hungry."

She paused, going so still he almost thought she had been frozen that way. But then she nodded, breaking the sudden stillness of the cell and walking forward. Her hands were back in the bag, but she kept her eyes on them, as if she had suddenly decided they were the threat she had been seeking. Bravely though, she came to them, kneeling and laying food and bottle of water out.

The smell of stale bread had never seemed so welcoming to the hunters as they knelt with her, doing so slowly. Sam could feel his stomach growling at the food, and he realized he hadn't realized how hungry he actually was.

Beside him Anya was licking her lips. With a questioning glance at Mena, they waited for permission before digging in, tearing into the bread with a ferocity that surprised them. The water wasn't far behind in being almost inhaled, drinking as fast as they could.

After a moment Sam came to his senses, slowing down before he gave himself stomach cramps. He put a hand on Anya's arm, and she caught his meaning, beginning to chew before swallowing. And she chewed as if savouring even the stale bread with nothing on it. It was like a feast.

They finished the meal in silence, taking little time to complete what Mena had brought, even when attempting to take their time. Mena watched with strange fascination, watched every bite and sip they took in a way that would have made Sam feel nervous if he couldn't see the terror in her eyes as well. She was frightened of them, but wanted to help them. He knew she was no threat to them.

After licking the last crumb off his fingers, he shared a look with Anya. There was determination in her eyes as well.

"Thank you, Mena," Sam offered, looking at the woman. She glanced away from his gaze, but he didn't remove his. "But can I ask why? Why are you helping us?"

She shrugged, beginning to search for an escape route again. Sam wondered if he wanted to know what had happened to this woman to make her like this.

"I help everyone Isaac brings down, as long as he doesn't find out. He hasn't, yet. Please, don't tell him, please!"

Sam shook his head, frowning with sympathy. "He won't find out from us, I swear." Anya nodded her agreement beside him, and it made Mena's face soften, made her appear years younger.

"Thank you," she murmured. "My life wouldn't be worth living if he found out."

Sam refrained from asking how it was worth living now, and glanced down, struggling to decide whether to ask her or not. In the end, he decided to.

"Mena…" he began. "Why are you down here?" It wasn't what he really wanted to ask, but it was a start.

She shrugged, visibly withdrawing into herself once more. "I found out, about his deal. When he found out that I knew, he became… so angry. I have never seen anything like it. He almost killed me then and there. I was a dancer, in his club, back when I was free. I was one of the first. I wanted to know how it was all of a sudden so great, so liked. And I kept on digging… until I ended up here." She shook her head, staring down. "But that was a world and a lifetime ago."

"And you've never fought back?" Anya demanded. "Never tried to escape?"

Mena looked up at them both, confusion lighting her features. "Escape?" she asked, nearly incredulous. "Escape to what?"

Her answer confused the hunters. "Escape from here," Anya told her. "Back… back to reality."

This time Mena laughed, a deep, throaty, bitter sound that reverberated around the cell. It went on long and hard, so bitter it chilled Sam's heart. Beside him Anya's jaw dropped, stunned by the only reaction they had never imagined.

Finally Mena wound down, eyes harder than they would ever have expected from the woman, taking both their gazes and holding them easily and equally.

"You can't escape from here. You don't get it," she told them harshly. "This is your reality now. There's no escape back. The only way out is when Mahone takes you to the demon."

Sam frowned at her utter desolation. "If you can help us out of here, we can help you out as well," he told her.

She reacted like he had slapped her, leaning back and sitting straight up, face going white. "Help you… No, I can't do that. I can't, don't ask me…"

She stood so quickly it made Sam's head spin. Anya followed her, but he stayed where he was, holding his head as it very nearly exploded in white light somewhere behind his eyes. He groaned, loud enough that it caught Anya's attention as she was trying to coax Mena back. She touched his arm, softly, and simultaneously his gut rolled, the food not settling properly. He felt the nausea return ten-fold and leaned over on shaking arms.

"Sam!" Anya shouted, looking up at Mena. "Please, help us! Do you know what the demon did? Can you help him?"

Mena backed away, shaking her head. "No, I don't… I can't help you, no more… Please…"

Sam barely heard it, trying to force down what he had just eaten, to no avail. He vomited, gut thrashing inside until it was almost painful. Mena trailed off in horror as he hurled, realizing the pile would give away her aid, before turning and fleeing in terror. The door banging shut echoed through Sam's head, drumming his headache into a migraine that made him throw up once more before collapsing in exhaustion.

Weary beyond belief, he lay on the ground, nose twitching at the smell coming from the pile of vomit nearby, but too tired to move away. And as he tried to keep his eyes open, he fell into the space between waking and unconsciousness, a white land of floating in nothingness.

Back to Dean in the next chapter. I think. Hope you enjoyed!