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Title: The Other Dean
Chapter: 1/?
Words: 1,091
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel
Rating: M
Warnings: Swearing, slash, canon violence and adult themes.

Summary: When Castiel goes save Dean from hell, there are... complications. Instead of getting back the Dean the hunter, they get Dean the mechanic, who's lived a relatively happy life with his dad, mom, and his brother Sam, and has never fought a Supernatural being in his life. Fate must be laughing its ass off.

---

Dean Winchester opened his eyes, only to see utter darkness.

He tried to sit up, but hit his head on something hard. "Son of a bitch," he cursed and rubbed his head. After a moment of feeling around in the darkness, he came to the conclusion he was lying down in an enclosed space, with barely enough room to move his hands.

He searched his pockets and found a lighter. Deep sense of foreboding was starting to make its way to his guts.

Dean lit the lighter.

Yep. He was definitely in a coffin. And not one of those fancy ass coffins either, it looked like someone had built it themselves out of a few pieces of plank.

Dean tried to think logically, albeit it was hard because he swore he could feel the space around him running out of air. This was either a very elaborate prank, or some sick freak had kidnapped him and was currently cackling away as their victim realised he currently ten feet underground.

Deciding it didn't really matter which scenario he was currently in, Dean started furiously banging on the wood above him.

"Help!" he yelled out, his voice scratchy from unuse. "Someone help me!"

He knew based on the soft sounds the wood was making that his banging was useless. Nobody was going to hear him. He was underground.

He hit the lid one more time, and there was a crack.

Dirt dropped on his face.

Dean's eyes widened.

"Shit."

The first thing he did after digging his way out from his early grave was to get the hell out of dodge. It wasn't enough that he'd apparently been kidnapped and buried alive, there was also something really shifty about the clearing he'd been buried in. The trees looked like something, or someone, had made them fall down under enormous pressure. He didn't want to stay to find out what it was.

It was just about noon, and he had to admit walking in direct sunlight was taking a harder hit on him than it should have. He was thirsty, and he was hungry, and he had no idea what the hell was going on.

Fortunately, it didn't take him long to come across an empty gas station.

Dean hesitated for a moment, but then decided he could easily explain it to the cops. He'd been kidnapped and robbed, and left in the middle of nowhere, what the hell was he supposed to do? So what if he was breaking and entering. He needed some water, food, and money to make a phone call.

As soon as he got the door open, Dean headed straight for the fridge and downed a bottle of water. It was cold and felt like heaven. He grabbed hold of another one, then wandered over to the newspapers. He glanced at the date.

Thursday, September 18, 2008.

He assumed the paper was relatively new, which meant he probably hadn't been missing for longer than two days, three at max.

Dean washed the dirt off his face, and looked into the mirror.

His reflection blinked back at him.

Dude. Had the kidnapper cut his hair? He touched his head. It was definitely shorter than he kept it. What kind of sick freak did that to a guy?

He decided to check the rest of his body, just in case, and was about to take off his shirt when he noticed the tattoo.

Oh, man. What?

Dean moved closer to the mirror. It looked like some sort of a symbol, right on top of his heart. He frowned. Maybe the kidnapper had a thing for the occult?

He touched it gingerly, expecting it to be sore. But it wasn't, which made him frown again. He'd always thought tattoos were supposed to hurt a few days after getting them.

"Whatever," he mumbled and pulled his shirt back down.

The motion made something on his left biceps hurt. He stopped, and turned a little sideways to get a better look, before lifting up the short black sleeve.

Okay. This was getting really freaky.

"What. The. Hell," he said, staring at the red hand print on his biceps. And was definitely a handprint. It was raised, which made him wonder how his freak of a kidnapper had managed to burn it on him.

It was a brand, he realised. He was branded.

The thought made him feel sick.

When he had gathered what food and drink he could carry, he headed to the cash register. He'd just grabbed a handful of coins and fifty bucks when the TV turned on.

By itself.

He stared at it for a moment, and pushed the off button.

As his hand fell down to his side, the radio behind him turned on. He turned to look at it, and could hear the TV getting back on, broadcasting nothing but snow. Just white noise.

It made Dean pause.

"Okay."

He exploded into motion, grabbed his bag of food, and ran out of the building.

The noise didn't follow him, so he counted his blessings and headed to the pay phone. He dialed in the first series of numbers, and waited. Number not in use. He frowned.

He dialed in the second series of numbers. Not in use.

On the sixth try, he got through.

"Yeah?"

"Bobby?" he asked. "I need you to call Sam, this payphone isn't getting me through to him."

"Who the hell is this?"

He frowned. "It's me."

"Who's me?"

"Dean."

The call disconnected.

He blinked, and called again.

"Who is this?" Bobby's voice asked.

"Bobby, listen to me-"

"Call again, and I'll kill you."

He stared at the phone. And dialed again.

"Bobby, I don't know what the hell Dad has done to upset you this time, but I think I was kidnapped, so you're just going to have to let it go, okay?" Since the call wasn't disconnected, he took it as a sign to continue. "I can't reach the AEF, Mom, Dad, or Sam aren't picking up, I know they wouldn't just change their phone numbers like that, something really weird is going on!"

There was a silence.

"You said you were... kidnapped?"

"Yeah," Dean said, relieved. "I woke up in a coffin in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Pontiac, Illinois, and let me tell you, digging my way out of there wasn't fun."

Bobby told him he was going to come pick him up, and suggested that Dean should find a place to sleep in the meanwhile. Dean agreed with that wholeheartedly.

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