Take The Heart I Never Wanted to Give

12

<i>Castiel jerked the reins of horse roughly when he heard a pained scream echo through the forest. He looked around frantically, trying to figure out where the alarming sound had come from.

"CAS!"

Castiel swiveled around when he heard the distinctive sound of Dean's voice echoing throughout the forest

"DEAN!" He shouted back, hoping his voice echoed far enough for Dean to hear him. He began to grow nervous when there wasn't a reply.

"CAS, HELP!"

Castiel snapped his horse's reigns, willing the large creature to go faster. He wasn't far from the redwood. Maybe he could reach Dean in time. His horse jumped over onto a ledge that led to a cliff and continued to run until the cliff came to an abrupt end. The thoroughbred skidded to a stop and whinnied nervously stepping away from the cliff. Castiel hopped hastily off the horse, he immediately spotted the beginnings of the redwood and looked for a way to get to the bottom of the cliff. He eventually spotted a branch that had a thick vine intertwined with its bark. Without hesitating, Castiel stepped a couple feet backwards before running towards the edge of the cliff and making a powerful jump for the vine. He grabbed the vine with both hands and wrapped both of his legs around it so he could slide down the vine easier. About half way down the vine, he jumped off onto the ground and continued to run as he got closer to the redwood.

A few minutes later he reached the redwood, the fear in his gut returning when he realized Dean wasn't there.

"Dean!" Castiel called out. He circled the tree looking for any sign that Dean had been there. Castiel stiffened when the sharp tang of copper hit his nose. Blood. He looked down almost missing the crimson stain in the darkness. He knelt down and touched the blood with one finger, sniffing it. Definitely Dean's blood. The only thing that kept Castiel calm at this point was that there wasn't a significant amount of blood, so he couldn't be fatally injured. Castiel stood back up and sniffed the air. The scent of his blood was still in the air and it seemed to be coming from the east. Trusting his nose, Castiel ran to the left praying to whoever would listen that he could get to Dean in time. </i>

✧✧✧✧✧

Dean jerked awake, his whole body jolting up in alarm. He immediately regretted the action when his head began to throb painfully. He groaned and tried to sit up a little slower. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain so he could observe his surroundings. After the throbbing in his head ceased briefly, he opened his eyes to see where he was. He quickly noticed that the handcuffs that were on his ankles had been removed and the knife that had been in his leg had been removed and bandaged poorly and, thankfully, his pants were still on him. The collar Alastair had put on him and the handcuffs on his wrists, however, were still there. Dean weakly tried to remove the leather thing with his cuffed wrists, his nails barely scraping at the choking strap. Dean eventually gave up on the collar and opted to observe his surroundings. It looked like he was in a cave of some sorts. It was pretty large, about the size of his bedroom, and it was dimly lit by a fire off to his far right.

He squinted in the darkness looking for the entrance to the cave and spotted a rocky incline that led up to a wooden door. Dean sat up and pushed against his knees so he could get his feet under him. He stood up with a grunt and shuffled his way up to the door. He lifted his cuffed hands, testing the door to see if it was locked, cursing when he realized it was. Suddenly there was a click behind the door, causing Dean to stumble back and land of his rear. The door opened, revealing Alastair who sauntered his way into the cave/cellar with his crooked smirk.

Dean growled at him, his body hunched in a defensive position. Alastair merely laughed and slowly approached Dean

"Aww, pup's still mad with me, isn't he?" Alastair mocked, his hand coming up to pat Dean on the cheek. Dean snapped at his hand, his teeth scraping hard against the skin of his hand, the coppery tang of blood dripping onto his tongue.