WALL OF DEATH (Supernatural Fanfiction)

Chapter Five

Dean hit the floor hard and almost blacked out. He clung to consciousness grimly as his vision darkened and blood pounded in his ears. When he tried to move, his limbs wouldn't respond properly. He felt his coat being dragged off and the pistol removed from the waistband of his pants. He was searched roughly and efficiently. The knife was taken from his boot; switchblade, brass knuckles and lock picks from his jeans. His arms were pulled behind his back and he felt cold metal on his wrists, heard the familiar snap of handcuffs locking shut. Finally he was rolled over and Toby was grinning down at him.

"That was way too easy."

Dean scowled. "Your momma's easy, I was blind-sided."

Toby kicked him in the ribs but Dean barely felt it. He smirked.

"You gonna tickle me to death?"

Toby kicked him again and Sam started shouting.

"Shut up, Dean, for Christ's sake."

How could he have forgotten about Sam? He struggled to sit upright and looked round the room, his vision taking a second too long to focus. Sam was near the table; Nathan a few feet behind with a shotgun aimed at his head. The whole scene looked like something out of a shitty B-movie and he opened his mouth to make another crack then thought better of it. No sense taking more hits than necessary. Nathan prodded Sam with the gun.

"Take your coat off, drop it on the floor."

Sam hesitated, looking round with confused eyes. Toby kicked Dean in the back, just below the kidney. That one hurt and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

Nathan chuckled. "Take as long as you need, but your brother won't enjoy it."

Sam's coat was off in a heartbeat and he tossed it to the ground.

"Every weapon you got, on the table now."

Sam moved forward like a dumb ox and Dean glared at him.

"Don't you friggin' do it, Sammy."

Sam glared right back. "I'm not watching them kill you, Dean."

He threw his knives and picks on the table and Dean cursed silently. The idiot hadn't held anything back. Nathan seemed satisfied.

"Atta boy. Now give me your wrists."

Sam put his hands behind his back and allowed himself to be handcuffed. Dean felt Toby's boot in his back.

"On your feet, soldier."

He got up with as much grace as he could muster. He stared at Toby and Nathan, genuinely baffled by their actions.

"If all you're good for is hunting your own, it's time I put you down."

"You?" Toby sniggered. "You're the easiest hunt we've had in years."

The truth stung and Dean smarted. How in hell had he managed to walk into such an obvious trap? Toby nudged him forward.

"Start walking."

"Where we going? Somewhere exotic?"

Toby shoved him harder but Dean didn't budge.

"I'm in the mood for Tijuana."

That earned him a slap round the head. "Shut your mouth, smartass. You're going to meet the boss."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. How many more of these bastards were involved? He was reluctant to leave Sam with Nathan and held his ground until Toby lost patience. He grabbed Dean's collar, marched him across the room and shoved him out into the barn. The door slammed behind them. It took Dean's eyes a moment to adjust to the dimmer light and he blinked round in surprise. Five minutes ago the place was empty; now he counted three dudes, one chick and none of them looked friendly. He recognised the youngest guy as a hunter and he was getting a really bad feeling. Force of habit made him play it cool; years of practice made it convincing.