He woke with his head pressed against cold concrete. He knew from years of training and experience that he may not be alone. He listened before he moved. He heard a steady drip, drip in the background. He sensed no movement, but paused and waited.

Sam tried to think. What was the last thing he remembered? They were on a hunt. They were always on a hunt. It was just a witch. A young one from all the signs they had gathered. They had found her easily. She had killed four men in as many weeks and they planned to stop her. Maybe it was all too easy after all.

"Sam." he heard his brother say weakly. "Sammy are you OK?"

"No." he replied, trying to crawl into a sitting position.

He tried to search for his brother in the dark but could only make out a hazy outline. He reached in his pocket for his lighter and flicked it on. Dean was a mess. His face was scraped and blood trickled off his chin. He sat at an unnatural angle with both hands holding his leg. They appeared to be in a basement of sorts. It was wet and empty except for the two low iron cages. They found themselves together in one.

"What the hell? What happened?" Sam said to Dean.

"Fell through the damned floor. Must be some kind of trap door or booby trap. Think I broke my leg when you fell on me. Smooth move Sasquatch."

Sam reached over to feel Dean's leg. There was blood on his jeans but he couldn't tell where it was coming from. As soon as he prodded the leg Dean slapped at his hand.

"OW damnit!"

"Can you move it?" Sam said, passing the lighter to his brother.

"Some." Dean replied.

A piercing screech sounded as a bulkhead door swung open. The backlit figure of a thin woman stepped out of the blinding light and walked down the steps to face them.

"Well, hello again." The woman said. "Shall we catch up?"

"Do we know you?" Sam said, shielding his eyes from the light.

"You figure it out. Lets play twenty questions. That was question number one. Yes you know me, and I know you. Both of you." She reached up and pulled a string hanging from a bar overhead bulb before walking back to close the bulkhead.

She was nondescript. The woman was of average height, brunette, painfully thin. Her sharp features did her no favors. Her eyes were flat and emotionless. She held what appeared to be a compact bow and arrow in her hands, swinging it back and forth in a disturbingly childlike way. Dean was sure this wasn't one of his conquests. Not his type.

"I'm sorry, can you refresh my memory?" Dean spat out.

"THAT was not a question!" She yelled. She quickly notched an arrow and shot it into Dean's injured leg. She smiled showing crooked teeth when he let out a surprised yell of pain.

Dean pulled the small arrow from his thigh and glared at the woman.

"BITCH!" he yelled as she pulled out another arrow with a smile.

"Wait!" Sam said. "OK, twenty questions." "Uhhhh...I dont remember the rules, can you help us out here?" She just stared,

"What's your name." Sam asked lamely.

"Melissa." She said. " That was number one."

"OK, well, how long ago did we meet?" Sam asked.

"I'd say goin on seven years." She said mildly, picking at the tip of the arrow she was holding. "Two."

Sam looked at her and tried to judge how old she could have been seven years before. Maybe a young teen. He couldn't place a hunt with a kid that age, but there had been so many.

"Did you know Dean or did you know me?" Sam asked.

"First you, then him." She said glaring at Dean. "Tell me how you got rid of it." She said to Dean.

"Got rid of what?" Sam asked.

The scar on his chest. He is all smooth, that aint right. He earned that scar, and I'll be putting it right back there."

The Winchesters looked at each other briefly before realization dawned.

"Missy Bender." Dean said.