"Why do you keep pissing off witches?" You muttered to Dean as you pulled against the ropes holding you tight against the wall. "If you had only listened to me..,"

Your words trailed off. It wasn't worth the words. You were both in this predicament now, and your complaints wouldn't help. "I know, okay. But what's important now is figuring out how to get the hell out of here. You have any ideas?"

Here was this basement in a run-down house on main street in the middle of a no-name small town. Surrounded by rotting canned food, you were tied against the brick wall. Dean was across from you, arms and legs tied to a chair, a wicked gash still bleeding slightly on his temple.

The witch had caught you both by surprise as soon as you had entered the house. Knocking you out with a simple spell, she had struggled slightly more with Dean. You had woken up sometime later, tied up with no way out.

"Can you break the chair?" You suggested, tugging on your ropes, hoping the bolts in the wall would budge. But either you weren't strong enough, or they were well made.

Dean struggled against his ropes, the chair creaking but did not give. "She has us good," he grumbled, giving one last yank against the ropes he sighed.

"Sam has to have an idea of where we are," you wished out loud. "Maybe he'll find us before she comes back."

"Let's hope so."

No sooner had you said the words than the door leading down to the basement opened. Instead of Sam's tall, lanky frame highlighted in the upstairs light, it was her shorter, frail frame. "I should think the two of you should be awake by now," she exclaimed as she came down the stairs, flipping the switch and bathing the entire room in light. She had a bowl in her hands, full of herbs and other items you couldn't describe. She placed it on the table before heading over to Dean. "That cut is quite nasty. I really wish you hadn't fought with me earlier."

Reaching into the bowl, she pulled out a towel and a glass jar from within. The jar held a greenish-colored liquid, and Dean struggled away from it as she came closer to him. "Will you quit your moving. This will just make you feel better."

Dabbing at his cut, she mumbled some words under her breath. The cut stopped bleeding, and she smiled victoriously. "There, that's so much better. Now, what to do with the two of you?"

"Let us go?" You suggested, but as you had imaged she just laughed.

"Let you go? Honey, after all this man had put me, my sisters, through? You'll wish for death by the time I'm done with you."

Mumbling under her breath, she went back to her bowl. Grinding and mixing, she ignored the two of you for a minute, and you stared at Dean, confused at the glazed look in his face. Maybe he hit his head a little harder than you had originally thought.

Happy with whatever she had created, she brought it over to you. It smelled, but not horrible. A mixture of lavender, sage, and things you couldn't name. She had mixed it into a powder, which she held in her hand. Whispering in a language you didn't quite understand, she blew the power over your face.

It burned your eyes and tickled your nose, but at the same time brought a sense of calmness. Smiling softly as she stepped back, she glanced towards Dean. "You're little girlfriend is mine to control now. I could take the ropes off, and she'd stay right there. I think she'd even kill for me. But we're not there yet. I have something else in mind."

"Damn it," Dean growled. "Just leave her out of this."

"Oh I don't think so," she smiled, running her hand down your cheek. "I've come across my fair share of hunters, and I know there have to be secrets between the two of you. Let's see if there's anything of interest."

Peering up into your eyes, she stared hard. "Oh yeah, I can see all sorts of secrets swirling around in her mind. Let's start with the old ones, dear."

"I was married," you blurted out, your calm mind not even batting an eye. "He was an Ass and an abuser. I ended up taking his life."

"Y/N," Dean pleaded, his eyes wide at the new information you hadn't told him. Or Sam. It had been your secret, one that you hated to even think about.

"Oh honey, I think we can do better than that. But first, I am going to undo your ropes. I think we need to add a little more excitement.

You stood complacently as she undid the ropes and handed you a sharp knife. "Now before I ask for anymore information, I think we need to mark up that beautiful skin of yours. Not too deep, but make yourself bleed."

You ran the blade along your arm, wincing as it sliced into your skin. Thick, red blood pooled down your arm. "That's better. Now, let's see. What can you tell me about meeting Dean?"

"He was so handsome, so sweet. I fell for him the second I met him. But I was too scared to ever say anything."

Dean's eyes widened as he continued to struggle against his holds, trying to get you from the humiliating scene you were in.

"Aww, how sweet. And of course, the womanizing man he is, he didn't even notice. Did he?"

You shook your head, your eyes wide as you stared at him. "He didn't even glance my way. At least, until...,"

"Tell me!" The witch ordered.

"Until that one night. We were both drunk. He said he remembered nothing the next day. But I did," a tear slipped down your cheek.

"Slice here now," she ordered, running her finger along your collarbone. Your hand followed with the knife, digging in deep. The pain was immense, and you cried out in pain, but couldn't stop yourself.

"What happened after that night?" She asked, smiling wide as if she knew this was your biggest secret. The one you would have died to keep secret.

"Please," you struggled against her control over you, tears streaming down your face. You didn't want to continue.

"Tell us!" She screamed, going to stand over by Dean who stared wide-eyed at you.

"I pretended that nothing had happened. I was scared, and then when I found out, I...," you stuttered.

"You found out what?" She was enjoying your pain, twisting her finger, having you dig the knife deeper into the skin of your shoulder.

Crying hard, you glanced away from Dean, refusing to see the hatred, the pain in his eyes. "I found out I was pregnant. I knew it was his, but how could I tell him? Our lifestyle? It didn't leave any room for a child. So I did what I thought was right. And I've kicked myself over it every day since."

"You had an abortion? Without even telling me?" He whispered, and you nodded.

"This is even better than I thought!" She exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Now, Dean, why don't you tell her how you really feel?"

His eyes were full of pain and guilt, and you knew what he was going to say before the words left his lips. "Y/N, I'm sorry, but I've never felt that way about you. You're like a sister to me. I did remember that night, but it was a mistake. It was easier to pretend that I didn't remember. Easier than telling you that it was the worst night of my life."

Tears streamed down your face, and you wanted to take the knife and stop the pain that was shattering your heart. Struggling against her hold, you were pulling the knife out when the door slammed open and Sam stepped down the stairs. He had his gun cocked, and less than a second later the witch lay dead on the ground.

Her hold on you vanished, and you dropped the knife. Without even glancing at Dean, you raced up the stairs, out of the house. Away from the pain, and the half-hearted attempt of Dean trying to fix things.

Your hotel was only a couple of blocks away, and you opened the door, breathing heavily. Throwing your clothes in your duffle bag, you stopped to write a note. What to write?

"I'm sorry to leave like this, but I think we can both agree it's a good idea. I'm sorry I never told you about the abortion, but after the news of today, I do think it was the right move. Don't worry about me, I'll figure things out."

Knowing that they could track you with your phone, you sat it down on the table beside the note, ignoring Dean's phone call. If only you had taken time to listen to his voice mail, you would have known the truth. That he was being spelled, just as you had been. But while you had been forced to tell the truth, he had been forced to lie.