Chapter 2

The throbbing pain in his head woke Dean from his sleep, if that's what you could call it. It was more like a limbo state. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing. Absolutely nothing. There was not an ounce of light anywhere to be found. And he could hear nothing as well. Even the sound of his own breathing was non-existent. Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, he thought he'd suddenly been struck blind and deaf. Figuring he had to be dead, he felt his neck for a pulse, not sure there'd be one there. He was relieved to know that at lease he was still alive. It was like he was in some void, where nothing existed but him. And there was another thing that disturbed him. Despite the fact that he was totally naked, he was neither cold, nor hot. Sizing up the situation, he was naked, blind, deaf, and his teeth hurt. It was totally unnerving him. And wasn't that was just great.

"Sam? Are you there?"

He fully expected at least a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake from the apparent nightmare he'd found himself in. Nothing. He could have sworn by the lack of sound that he was alone, except for the fact that, being the experienced hunter he was, he knew he was being watched. He could feel it.

"I know someone's there. Where the hell am I?"

"Hell is such a generic term, Dean Winchester. I prefer to call it home, for the time being." The voice was feminine, soft and sensual, yet slightly aggressive. And for a moment, Dean actually liked it, until he realized what it must be that spoke it.

"Well, I guess I don't need to introduce myself, do I? Since you know my name, care to share yours?" If Dean thought he was unnerved before, talking to some disembodied voice in utter darkness made it ten times worse.

"Oh, I think we'll save that one for later. First things first, let's discuss why I brought you here."

"And where exactly would 'here' be?"

"Let's just say you have already answered that question for yourself. You know, your family seems to be causing quite a stir amongst some of my colleagues, and have been for some time now. I try not to pay much attention to them, they are all so superficial, and their chatter tires me. They're like spoiled children that have the rule of the house when their parents are away. But the more chatter I heard, the more it aroused my curiosity. And the more I watched and learned about your family, the more I started realizing things that I thought could never be possible."

"Lady, you lost me a long time ago. Wanna back the truck up and try unloading it again?"

"You're so facetious, Dean. It's almost charming. Let me get straight to the point. You and I are going to play a game. Well, just you really. If you win, I'll let you live."

"Then you may as well kill me now. I got a feeling it's a game I can't win, and I don't think I'm gonna like the rules."

"Who said I'd kill YOU if you lose. Oh, no, I have eyes on a bigger prize. If you lose, you die, and I get Sam. He has a light inside of him that just can't be tainted, though some of my counterparts have tried. It's a light that can open possibilities for me that I never thought were attainable. Unfortunately, I just can't take it, because you stand in the way, and just killing you would be against the rules."

"You have rules? I sure would like to see that book. I'm pretty sure some of you tear out some of the pages every now and then to suit yourselves, don't you."

"Dean, I'm hurt. You think I wouldn't play fair. I'm not some low-level lackey, doing whatever they want to get their way. When I lay down the rules, I stick to them. And if you win, I'll reward you handsomely with your prize. It's very simple, actually."

"Aren't you afraid of stepping on anyone's toes? I think someone around here has dibs on my family already."

"Dean, there is a hierarchy here that is followed, albeit not willingly. Let's just say some of us have more seniority then others, and if need be, we can play that trump card at will. Our mutual 'friend' really has nothing to say in this matter."

"Lady, you gotta get better friends."

"So, what's it going be Dean, are you willing to play my game?"

"I sure hope it's not strip poker. I think you'd have an unfair advantage."

"Yes or no. My patience is starting to run thin with you."

"It doesn't sound like I have much of a choice, do I?"

"Not really. If you refuse, I can just leave you here, floating in nothing for all eternity. And that would leave your precious Sammy unprotected. And that would be handing him right over to the others that want him so badly. Where'd the fun be in that?"

"Since I stopped playing games when I was ten, what did you have in mind? I was always pretty good at Battleship. Or Mousetrap, that was one of my specialties."

"Oh, no, it won't be any of those kinds of games, or maybe it will be. It will be a little like hide and seek. I hide it, you seek it, and only by riddle will I identify it. It's as simple as that. But you do have a time limit."

"And how exactly do I keep track of time? You seem to have left me a little unequipped."

"Trust me, you'll know when you're times up."

"Any reason you brought me here in no clothes, aside from the obvious?"

"You really do think rather highly of yourself, don't you? You entered this world in the same manner which you entered your world. And you will leave the same way, if you leave. Tell me, were you born fully clothed?"

"I think my Dad would have told me if I was. Probably would have been in Guinness or something then."

"The longer you try to impress me with your dry wit, the less time you have for your task at hand, and I'll tell you, I don't impress very easily."

"Well, game on then."

"That's the spirit."

The dark was immediately replaced by a blinding flash of light, and suddenly, Dean found himself in the middle of a small, windowless room that had absolutely no color whatsoever. Everything was gray, from the walls, to the door, to the floor. There was a small pile of neatly folded clothes, also gray, on the floor. Picking them up, he couldn't wait to put them on, not caring what they looked like. He was never a fashion plate to begin with, why start now. He looked like a prison inmate, but at least he was covered. Under the pile of clothes was an elegantly written note. Reading it, he knew the clock had started ticking.