Special note: My sister put this idea on my head when she thought about Gabriel being a good satyr. I agreed and thought Sam would make a wonderful minotaur. Given the history of the Minotaur, I don't blame her for disagreeing. But I had a slight difference in mind that had to be told in story. And since the Sabriel Mini-Bang came up, I decided to write the chunk I had in my head for Sam and Gabriel. There IS a Dean side to the story, but it is very long and I decided not to write it. It would have been very, very long. It's a 'mini' bang for a reason. I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I had fun writing it. :)

I did kind of run away with one of my sister's ideas, so I have to give credit to her for being my muse. She was also my beta.

And then there was my lovely artist for the mini-bang who I really enjoyed chatting with cause they're cool like that. :D Thank you Vocal Corble! You're Awesome!

In Ancient Greece, humans thought they were superior in intellect and technology, only inferior to the gods that ruled the land. Humans knew of beings that were sentient and imbued with magic that were on earth with them. These majestic creatures were weaved into their myths and stories. Their epic tales were passed down through history.

Humans favored the creatures, not as things to be respected, but as prizes and entertainment. They were just animals, like any other. Among their favored species were the centaurs, the pegasuses, and the griffons. It was often a fantasy of any noble or royal lineage to have one of these powerful beasts; as a pet or a fighter. But centaurs were special because humans were vain and found some of their physical likeness to the centaurs.

Centaurs, the beings that possessed the body of a strong steed but in place of a head was the upper body of a man or woman. It provided them the ability to speak and use tools. They could out maneuver any normal horse with wit and strength. Their ability to use weapons was honed sharper than any warrior. Thus they were tricky to capture and near impossible to break as an adult.

But young centaurs were moldable and later, breed-able. It was a rather lucrative and profitable business; capturing young centaurs for market. The job was not without difficulty though. For one, they lived in the fields far beyond any human civilization. They were organized and always scouting for danger. They were hard to separate from their young, so mass captures were not common.

Not unless it was funded by someone very rich.

All together, with the right motivation, someone found out it was easy to scatter centaurs in the high of summer when the grass was dry. When fire spread out among the great fields, even centaurs stampeded.

Six very skilled poachers came back with cages and nets of young centaurs, the ones that could not run as fast as the adults and were scooped up when the fire had died down. Some were caught in the flames. Yes, it was terribly tragic, but twelve foals were presented to the King of Abdera and he was very pleased. They ranged from newborns to yearlings. From snow white to dusty red and grass green. They were so small and delicate one could mistake them for forest fauns and they huddled together as much as they could.

Except for one.

One was not quite the same as the others. He was straining against two leads and his arms were shackled behind his back. It took two poachers to keep him in place with ropes pulled taunt at his neck. He was not quadrupedal like the other centaurs, he was bipedal, on two strong pairs of cloven hooves. Dark brown fur covered his waist down and he was older than the yearlings. He was nearly the size of a 12 year old human child. He had the likeness of a satyr, humans observed. His lower half had the shape of a young cow but his tail was that of a horse's. His torso was lean and not old enough to have fully developed muscles. The hair on his head was shaggy brown, possessed the folded ears of a cow, and he had button sized steer horns sprouting from his temples. He also had a discolored nose that resembled, again, a cow.

It was a minotaur, the humans debated, a beast that was part bull and part man. Whispers of the creature from Crete circled the throne room and they knew he was dangerous to keep. The minotaur was deemed ugly by the nobles and unfit to be among the centaurs. The centaurs were sleek and lovely. They huddled together, scared and helpless. The minotaur huffed and pulled at his leads, scrapping his hooves against the smooth marble floor, tarnishing it.

"Why is this abomination here?" the king demanded, waving towards the twelfth creature, who completely threw off their neat little dozen of young centaurs. The minotaur snorted and let out a young but loud sound, like a charging bull. He pulled forward, charging and trying to break free towards the throne. He was yanked back by several men and his balance was thrown, having him land heavily on his back. The nobles and royal members wrinkled their nose in distaste for such an uncouth creature. Inelegant and unsightly.

"He was with the herd," one of the poachers told them and he trapped the minotaur's neck to the floor with a forked staff, so the young boy could do nothing but kick and struggle as his legs were finally strung together and they could finally have more chains to bind him. "He is stronger than any cage that we had to transport him and has been fighting us for days. He's strong, and maybe he would not be a prize centaur, but he could be a working one."

The queen scoffed from beside her king. "He is not a centaur. He is a minotaur. And he's savage."

"He could be trained," the poacher reasoned, still wanting to get paid for all the trouble he'd put himself through to bring the beast there.

"I did not ask for this beast, I asked for centaurs." The king waved his hand. "I will not pay for it. It is a waste of my time." The poachers looked discontent, having put up with enough. They wanted to get rid of this minotaur since they'd lassoed it.

"My liege," one noble purred, sliding towards the king in his fine white robes. "May I suggest something?" The king eyed the noble and waved him forward. The noble went to the king and whispered sweet words into his ear. The frown slowly disappeared, a delighted smile taking it's place on the king's mouth. "Haha! Ha! What a brilliant idea I've just thought of." The noble drew back, fingertips meeting calmly in front of him, eying the panting beast on the floor. "Azazel here will take him for the Colosseum. He will be a great show for the games!" The noble, Azazel, smiled in a quiet, self satisfactory way, "Take him to the pens. The beast will be held there in shackles until he can be shipped to Athens."

The deal was struck. Within the week, the poachers left happy, the king had new centaurs in his stables, and the minotaur was bound and shipped out nearly a thousand miles away.

Unfortunately, for the greedy king, he'd picked the wrong herd to steal children from.

The week after his deal, his castle was picked off by a herd of centaurs. His archers were shot, his carvery outrun, and his foot soldiers drawn into a trap and slayed. Royalty and nobles were running in a frantic whirlwind as adult centaurs burst into the throne room; and the king was not an agile man.

The first beast that seized him was not a centaur he'd ever seen before. It was not half horse but half bull. It was not a full grown bull, still young,and still had four hooves. The human arms gripped the king by his robes and threw him into a wall, seething with ruthless green eyes, short brown hair, and sporting longer steer horns than the minotaur from earlier. The king would have dubbed him handsome if he was not threatened. It so happened that the king had soiled himself from fear.

"Where's, Sammy?" The bull-centaur demanded in rough human speech. He shoved the king against the wall again when the king was too petrified to answer. "Where's my little brother!? He wasn't in with the others!"

"You... you mean that filthy minotaur?" The king squeaked and he was jammed against the wall again and he drew a sword from a scabbard on his back, holding the blade to the king's throat.

"YOU WATCH YOUR MOUTH!" The bull-centaur could have been Hades himself. "Now where's Sam?"

"Dean." A large white and steel hued centaur trotted past the bull-centaur and Dean turned his glare to the lead stallion, who held a torch. "We're done here, let's go."

"Not until this fucker answers me," Dean growled and the king was dizzy with fear.

"A-Athens," the king squeaked, thinking that minotaur was the only beast he hadn't kept. "I brought him for Azazel to fight in the Colosseum in Athens... please don't kill me!" Dean turned his eyes on the king and then tossed him across the throne room and snorted angrily.

"Light it up then, Michael." Dean muttered to the centaur and trotted out, knocking over a few decorative pots with his whipping bull tail on his way out.

The lead stallion, Michael, turned his blazing eyes on the crumpled king. "Since you burned our fields and stole our children, we only bestow upon you, oh human, the same gifts you gave to us." Michael galloped around the room with others, setting the carpets and tapestries alight before all centaurs ran out from the palace, leaving chaos in their wake. Like the poachers had done to them not weeks before.

Dean stood among the soldiering centaur, who all watched the small human kingdom go up in smoke. Many foals were being held in the strong arms of adult centaurs, curled up and crying. Eleven in total. In the long run they were okay; better than the few that had died in the field fire. Michael looked long and hard at the burning city before the turned, towards the mountains that lead to the valleys and fields.

"We're done here," Michael said. "We must return and cultivate a new field as home."

Dean stood straighter, staring at Michael. "What about Sam? He's in that place. That king called it Athens."

"He's lost to us," Michael said firmly. "It's not worth risking more lives to go and get your brother." Dean's face hardened.

"But we know where he is!" Dean snapped heatedly. "We can go and rescue him, like we did here!" Michael stopped and turned to look at Dean, a cool gaze in his eye that Dean had learned to hate instead of fear.

"You do not understand what Athens is. It is much bigger than this human place. We would all be killed before we even locate your abomination. You can not count the days it would take to get there, much less fight." Dean bristled, back hooves digging into the ground.

"Don't talk about him like that! He's my brother! He's one of us! So what if he's different!" Dean snapped and the other centaurs looked nervously at Dean. The youthful minotaur had always been a rebel, but to yell at the lead stallion may as well have been a challenge.

"He's not one of us," Michael said calmly, with a quiet rage that made everyone else tiptoe away from Dean.

"He is one of us! He doesn't have four hooves, but that doesn't matter. He's herd." Dean stomped his back hooves, fists clenched.

"He always slows down the herd, if nothing else this is a blessing from the gods." Michael turned away from Dean, trotting away. "Be thankful you are alike enough to run among us and not like your father." Dean's temper boiled over and many centaurs skipped away before Dean let out a bull like bellow and charged. Michael turned to see and leaped out of the way. Michael grabbed Dean's arm and grappled with the young minotaur. Dean fell face first into the dirt and his whole body was pinned with Michael's strength. His arm was twisted painfully behind his back and two of Michael's knees dug into his side. Dean looked up only to find a sword at his nose, drawn from his own sheath. Michael stared down at him, as though it was nothing more than dealing with a bug. He was insignificant in Michael's eyes, Dean knew that.

"We are going home." Michael struck the ground with the sword and adjusted his own bow slung across his back as he stood. Michael looked to the rest of the herd. "Move out." They all did as ordered. All good soldiers and herd members. Dean coughed, bringing air back into this body and he gripped the hilt of his sword, pushing himself back onto all four hooves.

"I'll find him!" Dean yelled after Michael. "You damn well better believe I'll find him, you pompous ass!" He pulled the sword from the ground. "And I'm not coming back til I do."

"I'll give your regards to your mother." Was Michael's response before he galloped off and the rest of the herd bounded after him, carrying the exhausted young with them.

Dean's fists clenched and he looked at the raging fire that used to be a city. Sixteen winters old and venturing out to find his brother. It was young for a minotaur.