Dean's eyes fluttered open tiredly, his head heavy and dizzy. He tried to get up but found that his arms were restricted. "What the-" looking down, he saw that he was strapped onto a table in the middle of a poorly lit room. Beside him was a small medical table, the kind with wheels, decorated with tools and devices straight out of a horror movie. "Fuck," he muttered quietly. Biting his bottom lip, he looked up and braced himself for the worst.

"Oh look who finally woke up, sleeping beauty. Feeling better?" the sarcasm dripped from the venomous voice that broke the silence. It filled the small room and a sexy, scruffy man stepped from the shadows into view.

"Crowley, what do you want."

"I want to rip your skin off your body and feed it to my hell hounds." A sharp-toothed grin flashed and he smirked at the startled expression he received. "I'm going to offer you a deal. How about you summon that pretty angel of yours and I let you go?"

"Fuck off Crowley."

"Already have, but thanks darling." Crowley raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "Deal? Or do I have to break every bone in your pathetic little body before you comply?"

"Fuck. Off."

Crowley huffed and looked at the ceiling in annoyance. "Come now, no respect for the king of hell?" His question was answered with an icy glare and complete silence. "Fine. Have it your way."