A/N: Set sometime in the early seasons, but after the boys meet Deacon (2.19 Folsom Prison Blues). I own nothing except my OCs, just playing in the delightful Supernatural sandbox.

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Sam and Dean stared in dismay at each other across the expanse, even as the announcer shouted excitedly, "It's the moment you've been waiting for folks! Last chance, place your bets! Ready? You asked for it! It's brother vs brother! Winchester vs Winchester!" The cage doors opened, and both reluctantly stepped into the arena, screams and shouts echoing off the rafters. Eyes meeting again, both could sense the fear in the other. How on earth are we going to get out of this one?

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72 Hours Earlier

"Deacon asked us to look into it, that's why." Dean stared in frustration across the motel room at his brother, who was sitting at his computer griping. "That should be reason enough."

"Dean, the last time Deacon asked us for help we nearly ended up in supermax with the promise of a lifetime behind bars. I'm just saying, he always seems to be asking an awful lot of us." Sam sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. "When is our debt to him considered paid? Not to mention, I haven't found anything to suggest this is even our kind of case…"

"So now we only help people when it's convenient?"

"That's not what I said." Sam stared at Dean, nonplussed. It was as if he was intentionally pushing his buttons, itching for a fight, and he was at a loss to understand why. "All I'm saying is the facts are pretty sketchy. Guys are seen arguing in public, aren't seen around for a few days, then one turns up either dead or beaten to a pulp while the other remains missing. The guys that do survive their injuries aren't talking. Something obviously is going on, but I don't see a supernatural angle to it."

"Maybe something is making these guys irrationally angry?" Dean theorized, "a spell or possession or something?" He got up from where he'd been sprawled on the bed flipping channels and started putting on his shoes. "I say we go have a fight in a public space and see what happens."

"That's insane, Dean!" Sam retorted, shocked. "We have no idea what is going on, so just jumping in blind is a stupid idea."

"Starting a fight won't be hard." Dean muttered to himself.

"What?"

"I said, you've researched all the men that have been taken. They all have some kind of criminal past, and most have no local ties or family that will ever miss them. If Deacon hadn't tried to check up on his former inmate…"

"Yeah, but Dean, are you really willing to risk…"

"Dude, enough talk, let's go." Dean grabbed his jacket and keys and headed out the door, ignoring the sputtering behind him and effectively ending the conversation. He knew without a doubt Sam would follow, just as he knew that he was being a stubborn jerk. He was confident, however, that they could handle any situation they ended up in. He and Sam made a pretty kickass team.

Sam stared at the vacant doorway, his words of caution and hesitation meeting empty air. "Stubborn, boneheaded, cocky, idiot…" he muttered, slamming his computer closed and pulling on boots and coat. He knew that Dean knew he would follow…it didn't matter how mad he got, he would always have his brother's back. Still…He wants a fight? Fine. He'll get a fight!

His long strides enabled him to quickly catch up to Dean, who had slowed as he approached the quaint and quiet town square of the little municipality they were currently staying in. Without pause he ploughed into him, nearly knocking him over.

"What the hell, man?" roared Dean, turning and returning the favor. They pushed and prodded, which erupted into a light sparring match, much as they had done hundreds of times before. Suddenly, however, there were a couple of strangers rushing up and prying them apart.

"Chill man, chill." said a tall, skinny redheaded guy that had grasped Sam's arms to pull him away from Dean. He might have been skinny, but Sam could tell by the force used that he was all muscle. He looked to be about his own age, or possibly a bit younger.

"He started it!" Sam blustered, only partially successful in shaking the guy off.

"Like hell!" snarled Dean, lunging for him, but finding his way blocked by the short, stocky bald individual that had restrained him a moment ago. He stared briefly at the impressive handlebar mustache the man was sporting, and then remembered he was supposed to be angry and growled a muttered threat towards Sam.

"Walk it off." advised the redhead, grabbing Sam again as he started menacingly toward Dean, guiding him instead toward a nearby alley. Sam allowed himself to be propelled away but glanced back briefly, his face contorted in anger but his eyes flashing a warning to be careful. Dean responded with a universal hand signal, but also gave a miniscule nod as he was maneuvered across the square in the opposite direction toward a stand of trees.

"I'm fine." Sam said to his new companion, trying again to shake the hand off his arm.

"Sure you are." came the response back. "Just take a moment to cool off." Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck rose as Sam realized there was a second person in the alley, approaching him from behind. Starting to turn to confront the new threat, Redhead impeded his movement by grabbing him tighter while a hand snaked around from behind and clasped a cloth firmly over his face. Shit! he thought, I am going to KILL Dean. Struggling, Sam almost broke free, but the need to breathe was overwhelming and he finally had to give in, the sickly sweet chemical on the cloth quickly causing him to lose touch with proceedings. The two men made quick work of restraining his hands and feet, gagged him, tossed him callously into a covered truck bed, and then they were gone.

Meanwhile, Dean was encountering a similar ambush, but his survival instincts had laid his second attacker out cold. Facing mustache man, he feinted to the left and then drove in for a punch that would have knocked the guy out had it landed. However, his opponent was clearly used to fighting and faster on his feet than he looked. Dean knew very quickly that he had his work cut out for him. He was just beginning to get the upper hand when he was distracted by the sounds of a scuffle from the alley down where Sam had disappeared. That, unfortunately, was the opening handlebar needed, and he dropped Dean with a haymaker to the head, out cold. Rousing his useless companion with some hard slaps to the face, the two of them made quick work of restraining their captive, and then they too were gone.