A/N: Okay, I skipped the 100-word-drabble-rule for the sake of progress ;-) Hopefully I can add a new chapter this week – cross my fingers.


Dean almost choked when the all too familiar smell hit him.

He gagged, turning away from his brother, the knife, the substance that was connected to so many dark images. Real ones and the fake images his torturers had planted into his mind to cut away everything that tied him to life. His trust, his love, his dedication.

„Dean, what's wrong?"

He recoiled when he felt Sam's hand on his shoulder, then leaned into the touch for a second before he straightened.

„A shrink would call it PTSD", he heard himself admit – much to his own surprise. "Guess this place stirs up some ghosts I failed to salt and burn."

His brother blinked, knowing better than to offer any words of comfort. He also knew that he would have to knock Dean out and drag him back to his car if he wanted him to drop this hunt. So he played his "annoying nerd" card because nothing spelled normality better than that.

"Did you know that people started mining sulfur in ancient times? The Egyptians used it for medicines, the Greek to bleach cloth and in China sulfur was part of the oldest gunpowder recipes. Probably it was part of the Greek fire too – a combustive agent used for sea battles by the Byzantines. Kind of an antique flame thrower. Some historians …"

"Jeez, Sammy – cut your academic diarrhea and let's get a move on," huffed Dean, but Sam could see the smile on his face.

They followed the rails until they bumped into an abandoned mine card.

There was a dried pool of blood on the bottom. Something glittered in the light… a silver hair clip with an intricate inlay made of turquoise.

The brothers exchanged looks.

Maybe Laura had lost the gem when she was picked up. Or she had left a sign – hoping against all odds that someone would come looking for her.

"Where the Hell is that son of a bitch?" Dean whispered.

Sam looked around. They had focused on the rails, not really checking for side corridors.

"He must have a hideout nearby," he breathed. "We gotta look for hidden openings."

He tapped at his headlight, a question in his eyes.

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

He knew that their lights could warn the bastard – but feeling his way through utter darkness never knowing what was waiting for him in this Pit?

Just.

Not.

Bloody.

Happening!


TBC