A/N: Presenting chapter 11! Before you guys start reading, I just have to say a big thanks to everyone who's put this on story alert or on their favourites list. I go around grinning for hours every time that happens. And a great big whopping thanks to all my reviewers and my perfect beta The Tribble Master. Now, enough from me. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 11

The room was silent; it had been for awhile. Both Sam and Bobby were seated, staring at Dean, the wall, Dean, the floor, Dean, and then the door again. Sam finally let out a sigh, breaking the silence.

"Bobby? Here's a question. How do you wake someone who's trapped in their own mind?" Sam finally asked. The question had been lingering in his mind for awhile, but no matter what he did he could think of no answer.

Bobby sighed in reply.

"I don't know, Sam. I've thought about what I've seen before, but there's nothing. I mean, there are spells, and herbs… but a fat lot of good they do now."

"So we got nothing then," Sam said despondently. Bobby looked sideways at him.

"Well, there is one way." Sam looked up, face hopeful.

"What?"

"We could always kill the witches."

Sam just stared at Bobby.

"Oh, that's a brilliant plan. Just one little issue… how the hell do we kill a witch?!"

"A witch is human, Sam. A twisted human, but still a human. Ordinary bullets aught to stop them."

Sam had just begun to feel the hope rise in him when it was hit back by what felt like a tonne of bricks.

"They took all our weapons. I don't know where, but I'm guessing they're not just lying about."

"Okay, so then I'll go get them," Bobby said, rising to his feet. Sam stood up as well.

"By yourself? Bobby, there are about 5 witches out there. You're unarmed. What are you going to do if they catch you?"

"Sam, there isn't really any other option here. We can't leave Dean by himself, and we can't both just sit here waiting for God-knows-what. I'll just have to watch my own back."

"How do you plan on getting out of the room?" Sam finally asked. Bobby shrugged.

"I'm still working on it."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Ohio.

September, 2001.

"Deean," a voice called mockingly behind him. He spun around in the dark tunnel, gun gripped tightly.

"Deean," The voice called again, a hint of amusement now present.

Dean took a step forward towards the voice. He raised the gun in the general direction where the voice was coming from.

"Are you going to shoot me?" The voice asked, sounding both vulnerable and mocking.

"What do you want?" Dean finally asked, gun still held in front of him.

"You're the one who came here. What do you want?" The voice asked.

"Hey, I asked you first."

"How mature of you."

Dean snorted.

"Well, you've been killing people, and I don't like witches who kill people. Actually, I don't like any witches…"

"So you've come to stop us. How… noble." The last word came out as a whisper, and Dean felt his inner danger-alert rise. Hearing a noise behind him, he spun around only to realise he was surrounded by 4 figures. He turned around again to find one more standing in front of him. It was the figure who had been talking. Her hood covered most of her face, but he could still sense that she was smiling.

"But you see Dean, we don't like noble people. Especially when they come to kill us," she said, walking forward. Towards him. He aimed the gun at her.

"Don't come any closer."

"I don't have to," she said, a grin appearing on her face. She raised her hand and began a chant. Her voice echoed in the tunnel, growing louder. Dean felt his mind begin to grow hazy, and his body go slack. He could dimly feel his gun drop from his finger before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he felt nothing.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sam looked down as Dean let out a barely audible moan. He gazed up at Bobby, who was examining the door.

"Bobby, you got anything?"

Bobby turned to face him, his mouth forming a slight frown.

"It's locked with magic. There's no visible lock, but it won't open."

"So no picking the lock then," Sam sighed.

"Which means I'll have to use plan B," Bobby said. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"What's plan B?"

"Play along."

Bobby knocked frantically on the large door.

"Open up! OPEN UP!!!" He yelled. Sam watched with his eyes wide.

"What is it?" A silky voice called from the other side.

"Dean's dying. He stopped breathing, we need help!"

"Already? Oh great, she's going to be mad," the voice said to itself. "Okay, step back, I'm opening the door. And don't try any funny business."

The door slid open and a lithe figure stepped into the room. Her eyes focused on Sam and Dean, lying on the opposite end of the room. Sam's eyes were wide as he gazed down at his 'dying' brother.

"Dean, wake up!" He yelled, grabbing Dean's shirt.

"Where's-" The witch began to ask but was interrupted when Bobby punched her in the face. Hard.

"She's down," Bobby said, turning to face Sam. "That was easier than I expected."

"Well, it's like you said. She's still a human." Sam replied. He gently released Dean's shirt from his grasp.

"That was a smart plan, Bobby, but that's only one witch. What about the others?"

"I'll figure it out, Sam. Don't you start worrying about me. Your brother needs you more." Bobby turned to leave, but then stopped.

"You two take care, alright?" Bobby said gruffly. Sam smiled sadly.

"Yeah. You too Bobby. Be careful."

Bobby nodded and then walked out the door, closing it behind him, leaving Sam with two unconscious bodies. He gazed at Dean, and then the witch.

"Well, this should be fun."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dean woke up to find himself tied to a board. There were ropes around his wrists and ankles, restricting his movements. In the dimly lit room, he could make out three figures standing near him, all wearing cloaks.

"Ah ladies," he said, grinning.

"You're finally awake then," the nearest witch replied.

"Hey hun, you don't hurry perfection," Dean said, smirking.

"Dean Winchester. Ever so witty and apparently good with the ladies," she said in a scathing tone.

"Don't you know it." He shot back.

"Enough chit chat. We brought you here for a reason."

"Look, I get it. You guys have the hots for me, I understand. But really, tying up a guy and taking him back to your creepy lair… well, it's not the best idea."

"Oh really? Well, I think I know a worse idea. Coming in half cocked to confront a group of witches… and getting captured," the witch replied. Dean tilted his head.

"Touché."

"But we'll forgive you. And to show you our appreciation for your stupidity, we've decided to have a little… fun." All three witches began moving forward, very slowly. Dean then realised they were each clutching a knife.

"Wow, ladies. Coming on a bit strong, aren't we?" Dean said, eyeing the knives apprehensively.

"Too fast for you Dean?" One witch asked, caressing his cheek with her free hand.

"Well, I was thinking maybe we could just talk first," Dean laughed nervously, his hands struggling to untie his bonds.

"We're more action girls. Speaking of action…" the first witch pressed her knife against Dean's side. He hissed in pain as he felt the blade cut his skin. The witch pulled the blade away from his body and lifted it so the others witches could see.

"And now we can begin," she said to Dean, a sadistic smile on her face.

Dean's eyes widened as the three witches hovered over him. One pressed the palm of her hand against Dean's forehead, and he heard a strange buzzing noise before everything went black.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sam looked up at a slight moan. The witch on the floor was beginning to stir, her face scrunched. Sam quickly rose and approached her. Her eyes flickered open for a second and focused on Sam.

"What-" she was interrupted again by Sam punching her.

"And she's out," Sam murmured to himself before walking back to Dean. His older brother was still lying motionless on the ground. Sam quickly checked Dean's recent injury, and was glad to see there wasn't too much blood.

"Dean, man, you gotta wake up soon," Sam said to the unconscious figure.

"Please Dean."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dean stirred, feeling intense pain throughout his body.

"Huh? Whazzhappenin'?" He managed to say before the pain really hit him.

"Ow…."

"Dean, you're finally awake. We've been waiting a long time."

It was the first witch he had spoken to, the leader of the coven.

"What the hell did you do to me?" Dean asked, voice ragged. Glancing down, he could see his shirt and pants were covered in blood. That would explain the pain, idiot, he though to himself.

"We were just having a little fun," the witch said smoothly. Dean just stared at her.

"Pretty sadistic fun," he muttered. The witch laughed.

"Well, we did have an ulterior motive. You see, we know a spell. It's very interesting…. And we want you to be a part of it."

"I'm touched," Dean said sarcastically.

"But you see we needed some of your blood." Dean looked down at himself.

"What, like half a gallon or something?"

"No silly… that's where the fun came in. You're so entertaining to injure…"

"You guys are crazy."

"Maybe. I guess you'll never know." The witch stared at him for a second before pressing her lips against his. Dean squirmed, but his restraints prevented him from doing anything. She parted from him, eyes gleaming.

"Great, now I feel violated," Dean said. She just laughed before leaving the room, followed by one of the witches. The remaining one stood nearby, obviously with the intent of guarding Dean.

Dean looked around the room, observing his surroundings. It was mainly bare, although there was a table nearby. On it stood various symbols, and in the centre was a silver bowl containing what Dean assumed was his blood. He then noticed that there was a knife lying very close to him, left by one of the witches. Dry blood was crusted on the edge.

"Hey. Hey, you."

The witch turned to him.

"What?"

"Listen, my arms are really sore. Do you reckon you could untie me for a bit?" Dean asked, putting in a pleading voice. The witch laughed.

"What, you think this is a five star hotel or something? I'm not a servant, and there's no way I'm easing you discomfort."

"You really are bitchy, you know that?" The witch walked over until her face was directly in front of Dean's.

"I'd watch what I say if I were you." Dean just smiled sweetly at her.

"But you're not me, are you? If you were me, you would know to check your prisoner's binds"- he kicked her with his now free leg- "to make sure he couldn't escape." A knee to the stomach, a kick to the face, and she was down. Dean looked thankfully at the sharp edge of the board where he had been rubbing his roped leg against. He took off his shoe against the board, and using his socked toes managed to move the knife to the appropriate angle for him to flip it up, catching it with his right hand. From there he cut himself loose and dropped ungracefully to the ground.

"Sonofabitch" he groaned, crouched on the ground in pain. Dean struggled upright, put on his shoe, and staggered over to the witch, stabbing her a few times to make sure she was dead. He then looked at the room again, searching for an exit. There was only one door.

"Looks like I'm going this way then" he murmured before hesitantly opening the door. He winced as it creaked loudly.

"Hannah? Is everything okay?" He suddenly heard one of the witches call. Her footsteps approached rapidly as he hid behind the door, body tense and knife ready. The witch stepped through the door and glanced down at the dead body.

"Oh-" she began but was cut off when Dean stabbed her in the side repeatedly. She fell to the ground, dead. Dean looked down at the two witches before slipping out the door, closing it firmly behind him. He staggered down the dark hall towards the mind was growing fuzzy with each step as the effects of blood loss took hold.

He eventually found his way out, and surprisingly he hadn't run into any other witches. The light from outside beamed at him, welcoming him with open arms. He staggered forward and then stopped as a figure appeared in front of him.

"Hi Dean," the witch said. Dean gaped at her.

"No. No, I made it out of this. You're not supposed to be here."

"I think someone's tampered with your mind. You never made it out of here. How could you?" She stepped closer.

"How could a weak man armed with a pathetic knife escape a coven of witches?" Her voice sounded dangerous, almost threatening. She then smiled sweetly.

"Looks like you're stuck."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sam looked up as he heard footsteps approaching. Tensing, he quickly placed himself in front of Dean's unconscious body. The footsteps slowed as they reached the door. Sam held his breath. The door opened to reveal-

"Bobby!" Sam exclaimed. Bobby stood before him, arms loaded with their weapons.

"How did you get all this?" Sam asked, grabbing a few things from Bobby's arms.

"Wasn't easy. I nearly got caught a few times, but I managed to evade them" Bobby said, pocketing a gun and grabbing another. Sam did the same.

"Any changes?" Bobby asked, gesturing towards Dean.

"None. He hasn't done anything… Bobby, I think we're losing him," Sam said worriedly.

"Then we better kill them witches damn quick," Bobby said gruffly. Sam nodded.

"Got a plan?"

"Not yet."

"I do," Sam said, eyes gleaming.