The next time Sam woke up, he was suspended by his wrists in the middle of a huge warehouse, the dank smell of must and damp clogging his nose and making him cough.

He opened his bleary eyes, and looked to his side to try and find Dean; he was hanging in the same predicament as him, his head lolled to one side, still unconscious.

'Dean?' Sam gasped out, his throat dry, making his voice crack. He closed his eyes in pain then swallowed, before calling out again.

'Dean-wake up!' he yelped, his heart soaring a little when Dean groaned, opened his eyes and lifted his head.

Dean immediately looked for his brother, his eyes full of shock as he saw him, wrists bound, hanging from a rope.

'Sammy? Are you ok?'

'No, not really-but I'll live...you?'

'oh, can't complain really-this has been kinda fun, in' it?' Dean chuckled, but he caught sight of Sam's expression and realised this wasn't the time for jokes. The crazy could be back any minute-they had to get out.

He looked up; they were suspended by a thick rope that went all the way up to the rafters, where it was then tied round and round. There was no way in hell that he could get out of this.

'Hang in there Sammy-I'll get us out!' he said anyway, not wanting Sam to think there was no hope. There was always hope, always a way out.

Dean stopped struggling when he heard a door open behind them, but he couldn't quite propel himself around to look who came through the door. He didn't need to guess, anyway.

'Well boys-haven't you two done well?' the floaty voice came from behind them, the sounds of one person clapping reached Sam's ears, and he started to struggle even harder.

'Oh now Sam, don't fret so...it'll all be over soon' the man promised, patting Sam's back. Sam growled in anger and tried to throw it off, but all he got was a chuckle in return.

'Still haven't learnt yet?' said the man, and he finally stepped into the light.

He was a white man, of about forty or fifty years old, Dean guessed. He had deep brown eyes, but they were laced with evil, with no life in them at all-it was just colour.

His face was peppered with small scars, across his face and down his neck, with huge expanses of pale, whiter skin covering the side of his face, running next to the scars down his neck.

Sam looked in morbid fascination as the man smiled; the skin of his lips a mottled white, blending in with the rest of the skin of his face.

'Trunky want a bun?' the man smiled, nodding at Sam's curious expression. Sam glared at the man, before he inexplicably softened.

'What happened to you?' he asked, his throat was still dry, but he had to know.

'I was in a fire-much like yourselves- when I was a young boy. My mother and father perished in the searing heat and flames, as did my younger brother and older sister. Even our dog.

I was the only one to survive the carnage, the only one to tell the tale-but it left me horrifically scarred, both inside and out.' The man said, tears welling up in his eyes.

'Oh my heart bleeds! If you had such a bad life-why do this to ours?' Dean yelled, anger coursing through his body. The man tried to kill them multiple times, and now he thinks he can explain it away by the fact he had a poor childhood? He was preaching to the wrong choir.

'you haven't heard the whole story!' the man snapped, his voice going up an octave, his dead eyes shining, the pink patches of skin turning red in anger.

After a while, he calmed down and smiled serenely at the boys, a sight that made Sam feel physically sick.

'Now- I was left with horrific scars, some of which you can see now. I've lost all the feelings in my right arm due to the nerves being singed in the fire, I cannot walk too far, as the smoke has permanently damaged my lungs, and it leaves me breathless.

But the worst injuries come from inside-'

'Dude, we don't care! Just do what your gonna do!' growled Dean, struggling to break the rope, but to no avail.

'Hush! Let me speak, it will do you no good to argue and interrupt-your score will just get lower!' the man said, before continuing with his monologue.

'As I said, the worst injuries come from inside- I cannot sleep for more than two hours before my heart stops, a by product from smoke inhalation. I get flashbacks from the fire, I am haunted by the face of my brother as his eyes clouded over...my sisters screams as her hair and face caught fire... my parents yells as they fought to find us and get us out...'

A small sob broke through his words.

Sam didn't know why, but he was starting to pity the man. He had been through a horrible trauma, something he would never wish upon anyone in the world, even his enemies.

'Then why?' he asked, his voice ripping through the man's reverie.

'Why what?' he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side, as if confused.

'Why'd you do it? Why try to kill us? You've seen death up close-why try to kill us?' Sam replied. He realised he was shaking, but he didn't care-he needed to know.

'I'm glad you asked- for years, I had been in therapy, counselling, but nothing helped-until I committed my first murder. Feeling someone take their last breath, watching the life leave their eyes...it was like coming home. In a strange way, I felt peace, calm, something I hadn't experienced for a very long time...I liked it. So I carried on...killing randomly, for my own salvation.' He said with relish, as though he was talking about a good book he had read.

Dean looked at him in abject horror and disgust. 'Your one sick puppy!' he spat.

The man looked at Dean, unabashed, and then shook his head.

'I don't expect you to understand. But now I get to the part where it concerns you.

See, I started to get bored with murdering at will, so I decided to do something, well, worthwhile- I constructed a series of tests and games, designed to test human dedication.

My parents would have done anything to save my brother and sister. Anything.

Now I had the chance to test whether other people would do the same. Now my choices of victim were controlled, thought out- I would choose family members- brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers, husbands and wives. The combination didn't matter, as long as they were from the same family.

I put them through the same tests, and marked their efforts.'

Sam let out a disbelieving yell, struggling even harder, scared of what might happen if they stayed one more minute with this nut-job.

'Please, let me finish-the family member that scored highest, walked away. The person with the lowest-well, let's say I had my fun with them.' The man chuckled. 'Those people aren't worth life, they won't save their family in their time of need-it was better if I got rid of them.' The man sighed, as if losing train of thought.

'Then I caught sight of you two boys! I watched as Dean saved his brother, time after time after time, Sam doing the same. I was impressed, watching your dedication to each other- I knew I had to test it out! So, I designed my tests for you' the man said, looking proudly at his handiwork.

Sam and Dean looked stonily back at him.

'What? You two should be proud of yourselves- your strength, bravery, dedication, I knew I had to see how far it would go...so I kidnapped you-and oh I was not disappointed!; the man chuckled, clapping his hands, making Dean jump.

'What's with the Element idea?' Sam asked suddenly. He thought back to the 'games'. Fire-earth-water-air...the four elements.

'Oh, that was just something I thought about, it has no real value...I just decided to try something different.' The man shrugged off the question.

'Now- for the moment of truth' he smiled, smiling at one Winchester, then the other.

'What's that supposed to mean?' asked Dean, getting impatient.

'Well, remember I told you about the scores? The one with the highest score walks away, the one with the lowest-well, doesn't?' the man asked, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a scruffy, leather back notebook.

'Want to know your scores?'

Who's going to get the lowest score?

Find out in the next chapter!

I Hope you liked my explanation of our evil man!

Thanks for reading, and please review!