A/N: Well, I looked in the back of my cupboard and it appears they're still not mine.

A/N: Thank you all for sticking with this story and for all the great reviews. I reply to every one I get but there are some that I haven't been able to respond to. So to all those people out there, reading, reviewing and putting me on alert, thank you all very much. It really does give me the conviction to carry on. You guys are the best!

Day Four

Dean is wet. He's been wet for the best part of 24 hours now but time means nothing to him any more. His shirt is soaked through and the water has crept down his body and his jeans are sodden and clinging uncomfortably to his legs. His face is wet too but he doesn't realise the drops sliding down his cheeks started their journey from his eyes. He's beyond realising anything more now.

He's been released from his bonds but although he is no longer restrained he doesn't have the strength to do more than crawl to the relative safety of the wall. His brain is working at top speed but his thoughts have no direction. If he stopped thinking long enough to listen he would hear himself humming a tuneless melody.

Sam is over by the other wall. He's been there for a while now but he won't talk to Dean and that's driving him crazy. Since when do they not talk to each other? Dean can't understand why his brother is being so remote. Surely he can see Dean needs him? Why aren't they already out of this dark prison? Dean tries to call out to his brother again for the hundredth time but his voice is on strike and all he can manage is a strangled grunt, which Sam ignores.

Dean lets his head fall back on the wall, savouring the coolness of the stonework on his overheated scalp, and his eyes close as consciousness becomes a thing of the past.

*****

Sam knows where to start looking now. Dean's pendant turned out to be a bigger clue than either Sam or Bobby could have hoped for. Sam had barrelled into the garage workshop, ready to open fire on anything that moved. Bobby had hung back as much as he dared, but with Sam on the warpath he didn't like to be too far away. He's held on to some sense of perspective even if Sam has none left.

The garage owner was scared but sympathetic once Bobby had interceded and explained the situation more rationally than Sam's ranting. Turns out the truck isn't his. It belongs to a customer, one who hasn't paid his bill for over six months. And yes, he does have the address which he's more than willing to give up if means getting Sam out of his workshop.

It takes Sam and Bobby over half a day to get to the address given by the mechanic. Sam swears most of the way there, quietly under his breath, but Bobby hears him nonetheless. The address takes them out of town, down dirty back roads no one would know existed, through woods and finally to a small hamlet of just three houses.

The address on the scrap of paper in Sam's hands is for the last house. Sam is out of the car before the engine has stopped and Bobby has to run to catch up with him. Sam pounds on the door with his bare fists and Bobby almost has to pull him away before he breaks the skin on his knuckles or the nose of the old woman who opens the door frustratingly slowly.

*****

When Dean opens his eyes again, Sam is gone. He blinks to clear his vision but it doesn't help. He's alone again. Not even the rats are here to keep him company, which he supposes he should be grateful for. His throat is parched, despite the overall dampness of the cellar and his stomach hurts like hell. Not eating for four days will do that to a man but Dean never wanted to experience it for himself. Still, it gives him something to focus on for a while.

He tries to lift his head but it feels so heavy and the effort doesn't seem worth it. A little voice in the back of his mind is telling him to get up, to fight, but he's not listening to it. He can't get up, he can't fight. There's nothing here to fight. If there were some spirits down here he'd know what he was up against. He could deal with that. But there's nothing and Dean's never really been able to deal with nothing.

It's almost a relief when the shaft of light under the door appears again. The flood of artificial light as the door opens hurts his eyes and he can't help but screw them tightly shut. He hears footsteps and he knows he's shaking. Whether it's cold or fear or something else he doesn't know or care. He's vaguely aware that this might be his chance to escape.

Then a strong hand wraps itself around his forearm and the previous thought seems so ridiculous he bursts into manic giggles. He knows it's wrong but he can't stop himself, even when the hand yanks him forward painfully. He can't stop even when his knees scrape along the floor and he falls forward hard on to the ground, breaking his fall with numb hands.

And then the hand that pulled him forward so cruelly pulls him back up onto his knees. For the first time in four days someone speaks to him.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Winchester?"

*****

Sam's thrown by the appearance of the woman before him. She's a little over 5 foot tall and as frail and wispy as the breeze through the trees. He's been in this game long enough not to be taken in by appearances though and his brother's life is at stake here.

He thrusts Dean's pendant into her face and watches as she takes an involuntary step back. He doesn't know if it's the force with which he threw his arm forward or the object he's holding that causes her reaction but when he looks at her eyes, he knows. She's seen the pendant before and that's all Sam needs.

He doesn't know he's curled his fingers into a fist until he feels Bobby's hand rest gently on his shoulder as he pulls Sam backwards, away from the woman. He's seen it too. They both know they're on to something but right now Bobby thinks he probably has more objectivity than Sam. He takes the pendant from Sam and, stepping in front of him, raises his eyebrows at the woman.

She's seen that look in a man's eyes before. It's not one to mess with.

*****

Dean has nothing to say for himself. Mainly because he doesn't understand what the question was but also because he can't manage anything more than a hoarse croak. He's not used his voice for so long.

His body is shutting down, bit by bit. His voice has gone, his muscles are wasting away and his mind is on the way out. He's having trouble staying upright on his knees and if it wasn't for the hand clenched in his hair, he'd be flat on the floor by now. Somewhere in the back of his head he thinks this isn't the most dignified position for a hunter but he's absurdly grateful that someone, anyone, is talking to him.

Then he hears a sound he recognises. He'd know the sound of a gun being primed anywhere. He feels the cold metal of a barrel pressed hard against the base of his skull and thinks this is it. A warm puff of air by his ear startles him and he desperately tries to think of something to say, something to do, to save himself.

"Nothing to say, Dean?" the voice taunts him, "not even after all this time?" and Dean knows they're not just talking about the last few days. He knows this is it, this is an execution and he wishes he knew why.

He hears the hammer being pulled back and tries not to panic, tries not to think of all the things he meant to do, to say.

And as he hears the hammer fall, all Dean can think is Sam's too late.

*****

Apparently Bobby can do scary just as well as Sam. It only takes one glare and the woman folds like a house of cards. Yes, she's seen the pendant before. Her son tried to give it to her just the other day but she didn't like it, not her style. So he took it away again.

Where's her son now? She doesn't know, or won't say. Bobby thinks it's the former although Sam is inclined to disbelieve her. What kind of mother doesn't keep track of her son? If he were thinking straight he might realise it's actually quite common. But he's not. All he's thinking of is getting Dean back. In one piece. Although as time passes he's getting more worried that's not going to be the case.

Bobby has his work cut out for him keeping Sam at arm's length from the woman. He knows Sam would never intentionally hurt an innocent woman, although her innocence is still to be proved, but the boy's almost at the point of frantic and frantic never makes rational decisions. A steadying hand on Sam's arm seems to do the trick as he backs off ever so slightly.

But she's seen the look on Sam's face and the steely determination in his eyes. It takes her a few more minutes but she finally realises Sam means business. He's ready to cause serious damage to something, or someone, and she doesn't want any part of that. Finally she surrenders and gives Bobby another address, a warehouse this time, and a name.

And Sam's blood turns to ice.

He knows that name.

tbc