Dean shifted on the bed, a deep groan forcing its way between his lips.

"Hey, hey—take it easy," murmured a familiar voice.

Instinct had Dean's face shift toward the voice though his eyes remained swollen shut. "S'm?" His query was garbled thanks to the rest of his swollen face including his lips.

"Yeah, it's me." A big paw of a hand came to rest on Dean's shoulder.

"How?" breathed Dean.

"Doesn't matter."

"Wanted m-m-me to c-c-confess."

"Confess? Confess what?"


Sam's brow furrowed.

Dean shuddered, his captors' inhuman demands still ringing in his ears.

"They're gone, Dean, they're gone."