Yes, Dean and Sam belong to me, I also won $64,000,000 in the lottery and became a bestselling author overnight, oh wait, sorry, that's in my alternate reality.


Sam shot bolt upright, gasping for air, the coppery tang of blood spilling out of his mouth and his head pounding. He shivered and shook, wrapping his tattered shirt tightly around him. He looked down at the blood staining his front, then pulled open his shirt to reveal unbroken skin. It was bruised to hell, but there was no sign of the fatal gunshot wounds that had stolen his life away not many hours before.

"Dean?" he called out hoarsely, trying to rub away the crusts from his eyes, peering through the darkness to find out his location. All he knew was that he was cold and he lay on broken concrete and the sound of his breath was the only sign of life. "Dean!" he cried out again. The last thing he remembered was the crushing pain as the bullets hit his chest and flying back onto the bed, seeing the devastated look on his brother's face.

Oh God, had they killed Dean too? And why wasn't he dead? He should be dead. No one could survive that kind of a blast at such close range. "Hello," he shouted. "Can anyone hear me?" His voice echoed around him and he realized he was in a large room, but no matter how hard he squinted, he couldn't make out a hint of light in the blackness.

He tried to get to his feet but his knees felt like jelly and his head swam. He sank back to the ground, shivering uncontrollably once more. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, trying to find a wall, a door, any way out. The floor ended abruptly about three feet away, his hand was suddenly falling through empty air, his chest cracking painfully as it slammed into the concrete floor. He rolled and thrust himself back violently, trying to get away from the edge. As he pushed himself backward, nearly ready to panic, he felt his hand slide off once again into nothingness. He grunted as his shoulder blade cracked against the stone. For one heart stopping instant, he lay there, seconds from overbalancing and plunging into what he imagined was a never ending abyss. Pain shot through his fingertips as he clawed at the broken concrete.

Finally, his hand caught in a tiny crack. It was enough to pull his body away from the edge and he curled up in a tiny ball, breathing hard, focusing on the crushing pain that filled his chest, allowing it to distract him from the fact that he did not know where Dean was and he had no idea how he was going to get out, and more importantly, letting it distract him from the fear.

Sam did not know how long he lay there, just breathing, until finally he got up the courage to once more explore his surroundings. He crept to the edge, much more carefully this time and felt along the edge as it curved around him, allowing him to discover he was on a circular platform, about twenty five feet across and the ground below it was further than he could reach, even when he carefully lowered one leg over into the blackness. There was no way off the platform except for a narrow walkway, not even four inches wide. Sam wanted to follow it, but he could not bear the thought of trusting himself to something so tiny when he could not see where it led. For all he knew, it would crumble as soon as he trusted his full weight to it, sending him to his death.

In the end, he sat still, as close as he could to the center of the platform, hugging his arms across his chest. He had never been so terrified.

Finally, the silence was broken by the sound of a footfall, and then another. "Dean?" he called out softly, hoping against hope that salvation was near. There was no answering call, just the soft sound of leather shoes on stone and the whisper of unfamiliar breathing and Sam knew it wasn't Dean.

The footsteps came slowly closer and Sam finally managed to get to his feet, determined not to meet this new threat lying down. If his brother was missing or, God forbid, dead, Sam would not let his death go to waste by sitting still and waiting to die.

There was the sound of fingers snapping and a light lit the darkness. The dark figure of a man stood on the narrow walkway, delicately poised with one hand raised in the air, a single pure white flame burning on his index finger.

Sam let out a muffled groan as the light pierced his eyes. White flashes burst before him and he could barely make out the man walking toward him.

"Well hello Sammy Winchester. We are so pleased to have you as a guest in our home. I hope you have been making yourself comfortable." The voice was smooth and pleasant, like rich milk chocolate.

"Where is my brother? Why am I here?" Sam yelled hoarsely, trying to make out a face through his blinded eyes.

"Your brother? I have no idea. Probably back in the motel room we took your body from. I did nothing with him. And as for you, we know who you are and we want to win the war."

The man drew close enough that Sam could make out some of his features. The beautiful white light illuminated one half of his face. It was serenely exquisite, with chiselled features and bright blue eyes that reflected the light. Sam strained to see the rest of him, catching a glimpse of an eye like a polished black marble and a mouth distorted by cruelty.

"Just whose side are you on?" Sam took a step closer.

"Naughty, naughty Sammy. You know that curiosity killed the cat. You will learn everything, all in good time. But for now, lights out!"

SNAP! There was a blinding flash. Sam gripped his head in agony then. . .nothing.


This is in celebration of the new episode coming up because it has finally happened! There is going to be a character on Supernatural with my name. Which means Sam and Dean will probably be saying my name multiple times. I don't care if they are trying to kill her, this is still extremely exciting. Anyway, please read and review!