Sam.

One year ago.

I heard the knock on the door early in the morning. When I got out of bed to go and see who was at the door, Dean was already standing there. I ducked back around the corner to listen to what happened. A woman said in a practiced and official way, "Congratulations. You have been given the great honor of serving our village by appeasing our great protector. You will come with us now to live in the temple for a year so you may be prepared to please the great dragon."

No. This was not happening. I knew that Zachariah hated my brother, but there was no way that he would involve the dragon in this. That was risking too much. What he would or wouldn't risk didn't matter anyway. There was no way that Dean would go along with this... he left. Without saying anything. Why would Dean, who normally was so stubborn and ready to fight, just go with them willingly?

I shouldn't be worried. That must mean that he had a plan. Of course he did. Dean always had a plan.

Except a week had passed since then.

And now a month.

And then two.

Six months ago

The next time there was a knock on the door it was the middle of the night and I was just getting ready to go to bed.

My first thought was that Dean was back, but that was a ridiculous thought. It had been six months with no word, and if he had somehow managed to get away why would he knock. I opened the door to see several guards. Maybe he had gotten away after all.

"You need to come with us," a female guard said.

"Why?" I asked.

"You are under arrest," a male guard put in, "for not paying your taxes."

"I can't. You took my brother away, and he was the only one who worked."

"That doesn't matter," the female one said. "You still need to pay and you haven't. Now come with us."

That didn't leave me with any choice other than to go with them. They chained my hands together and led me through the sleeping streets to the prison. The guards put me in one of the cells and left while throwing over their shoulder a mocking, "See you tomorrow."

Two months ago.

I sat up to see two of the guards, Hael and Ion, standing outside my cell. That was strange. After the first month of beating me almost constantly and a second month of doing it less often, they left me alone.

Hael unlocked the door and Ion walked in and pulled me up, "Come on. We got someone that wants to meet you."

They half walked half dragged me outside where Zachariah meet up with us. That was not a good sign. Without talking, I was led far into the woods. That was very strange. Usual they just beat me in another room. Maybe they were finally going to get it over with and just kill me.

After a while, we stopped in front of a wooden hut. Zachariah went over and knocked on the door. A man opened the door, "Zachariah, I believe you promised us something."

"Yes, Ishim, I did. Here he is," Zachariah said while indicating me with one arm.

"Ah, I was expecting something in a little better condition from you," Ishim said, looking me over.

"Sorry to disappoint. I'll give him to you for just one sheep and a promise to bring something more to your liking by next time."

"Deal. Mirabel, go get a sheep." Ishim took me from the guards and brought me inside of the hut. There were creates and boxes in a stack with various types of contraband making up the top. But worse than knowing that these were smugglers, were the rows of people chained to the wall by heavy iron collars.

Thirty-seven days ago.

"I caught this little thing trying to sneak out," Mirabel says to Ishim, holding me up by one arm. "What should I do with him?"

"Just break his leg. He won't be running away like that."

"But damaging him will decrease his value."

"What value? Just look at him. He's arena fodder, and neither the buyer nor the lions will care about one more mark.

"Fine, but if Metatron says anything about us damaging his goods and hurting his sales I'm telling him that this was all your idea."

"Whatever you tell him is fine with me, Mirabel."

Twenty-nine days ago.

"So what do we have for the semi-annual sale this year?" a new irritating voice asked.

"We did very well this season, Metatron," Ishim answered. "We have many more slaves to sell than normal, along with the usual items of interest."

"By more slaves do you just mean more arena fodder or things of actual interest?"

"Most of them are in pretty decent shape. We should be able to make a lot of money with this load. Mirabel, Metatron's here. Start loading up his cart."

Twenty days ago.

The cart stopped early today. At least I think it did. I was hard to tell. A short, well-dressed man jumped into the back of the cart.

"Yes, this certainly is a good load you brought for me," he said. "I'll take them all except four of them over there." I wasn't certain if I should feel happier or more hopeless that I wasn't one of the four he did not plan on buying.

The next day we were all together in one room. The man called over to a taller blond man, "Take those three of them over to the arena for Abaddon to play with." This time I was one of the ones indicated.

"Yes, sir," the man said.

Now.

"Sam!" that was strange. I know I hadn't told anyone my name. Maybe this whole thing had been a long weird dream. "Sam!" but if this was a dream then why did it hurt so much? I slowly opened my eyes and started to wonder if I was hallucinating now. That didn't make sense. Why would I start now? They fed us well here. At least better than any of the other people had.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, man. It's me. Come on, we have to get you out of here."

"I can carry him from here to a place I can take off from," a deep voice with a hint of a growl in it said from out of my view.

"No. I got him, Cas."

"Dean, I am stronger than you."

"No, I got…"

"Dean, I know you have been looking for your brother and don't want to give him to anyone now that you have found him, but I can carry him faster than you can and I will not tire from it. And the faster we go the sooner we can get Sam the help he needs."

Dean gave a heavy, defeated sigh. "Come on Sammy," he said offering me an arm. When I had gotten out of the cage a man with a pair of huge bat-like wings walked over and picked me up like I weighed as much as a sack of feathers. A pained sound escaped me as my broken leg was jolted.

"Woah. What happened? Are you going to be alright?" Dean asked, jumping into protective mode.

"Leg's broken," I grunted out.

We flew for a while. I was in and out of consciousness so I had no idea how long that while was. The part of the trip that I was awake for, Dean told me about the year he had. But despite the fact that the majority of the time was spent in the prison, he mostly talked about the week he had spent meeting and journeying around with the dragon we were currently riding.

Metatron.

I was finally back home. I was standing in the middle of the plaza of Darttrenn when I heard an irritatingly familiar accent call my name. I turned around to see Crowley and his favorite minion walking toward me. Had to pretend to be friendly to this creep now. He was my best costumer. "What can I do for you today?" I asked as politely as I could manage.

"What is wrong with you? All these years of being a loyal customer at your cart, helping you evade the police of less friendly villages, and this is how you repay me?"

"Was there something wrong with this season's sale?"

"Was there something wrong? How about the fact that you sold me a stolen slave?"

"If he was stolen it wasn't by me and you should be able to keep what you buy with all the protection you can afford," I said, openly sneering now.

"It was a danged flipping dragon's slave, you absolute moron!"

"There is no way that someone managed to steal a slave from a dragon."

"Then why did a dragon show up demanding that I give him back his slave?"

"Are you sure it was a dragon?"

"It had giant flipping wings. Yes, I'm certain it was a dragon, you imbecile."

"Look, I didn't…"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. Just make certain nothing like this ever happens again or I will do so much worse to you."

Before I could properly process his words or try to find a meaning he snapped his fingers and call out, "Brady!" He then turned around and began to walk away.

The minion that had been with him moved much faster than me. So fast, in fact, that I didn't even see the crossbow he had on his belt before the bolt was buried deep in my leg.

The last part isn't meant to foreshadow anything, I just really wanted to punch Metatron in the face. And then I wrote that and had the thought 'The canon version got shot. I'm letting this one off easy.' So now he has been shot,