I got the idea for this one from the movie 'Gladiator' obviously. I hope you all like it.
Summary:: Dean and Sam get sent back to Ancient Rome and must kill the demon that sent them there to go back home. Will the be able to do it?
Warnings:: Rated M for language, a bit of gore, WINCEST in later chapter(s).
Disclaimer:: I do not own Sam and Dean Winchester. They are the property of Eric Kripke and the CW.
He was aware of a few things as he found himself rising to conciousness.
First. The light against his eye lids was flickering back and forth.
Second. He was much colder than when he went to bed.
Third. His bed was softer when he went to sleep.
Fourth. He wasn't wearing bracelets earlier. In fact, he didn't own a bracelet.
Taking a deep breath he rolled his head in the direction he remembered his brother being last and called out huskily, "Sam?" He was answered by a groan in the opposite direction. "Sam?" Dean tried again, a bit louder, and was answered by, "What?" in the same tone as his own. Dean began the slow process of taking inventory with his eyes closed as he called to Sam again, "You okay?"
Sam had become aware of the same things as Dean when his brother's voice broke into his musings. "Not really." His hazel eyes were open and had pulled himself into a sitting position against the crumbling wall behind him. Dean's sharp, "What's wrong?" Had him chucklng darkly. "We're not in comfortable beds, chained to a wall, and wearing what look like effing skirts Dean. That's what's wrong." He heard a mummbled 'Skirts' in the form of a question followed by a "You have got to be fucking kidding me?" As Dean inevitably found Sam's words to be true. "See? Not okay." He chuckled again just as darkly and pulled a knee up to rest an arm on it the best he could.
Dean had opened his eyes quickly when Sam had declared he wasn't okay. He had found himself staring at a crumbling ceiling. Sam's skirts comment had him sitting up and growling out, "You have got to be fucking kidding me?" His brother's dark amusement had him looking in the direction of the other and nearly gasping. Sam had his head tilted back against the wall, one leg extended before him, the other bent at the knee, a forearm resting atop the kneecap and the other arm sitting limply at his side, hand resting on his thigh. Sam's eyes were closed at the moment and Dean found himself watching the light from the flames of the various torches bouncing off his brother's skin. Sam had been right, they were wearing skirts. But they were leather. "Sam what happened? Do you have an idea where we are?" He watched Sam's eyes open and look directly at him. He fought off another gasp at that look. "We're in Ancient Rome." Dean swallowed and frowned. "What? How the hell?" Sam sighed and closed his eyes again and leaned his head back once more. "I have no idea how, but I do know that we are about to be part of the gladiator games." Sam's tone was so matter of fact that Dean had to swallow and blink several times. "Little-brother-in-a-skirt say what?"
Sam had to laugh at that. It was kind of funny, even in the current situation. "Apparently we're Roman slaves. And from what I gathered while you slept, you and I are the only tag team duo. Seeing as we are brothers." He heard Dean heave a sigh, "Well there's a plus at least." Sam nodded and sighed as well. "Luckily we know Latin, or at least I know Latin and you can understand it enough." He could feel the heat of Dean's glare and chuckled a bit. "I think you'll be okay, if you play the silent one." He popped an eye open and smirked a bit when Dean gave a conceding nod. "I am guessing that if we do this right, we can find the demon that sent us here, whoop its ass, and be home as soon as we do." He heard Dean's "You hope." from across the room and agreed. "Luck is on our side with this though..." He opened both eyes again and looked at Dean who was looking back with a raised brow, "Weapons of this time period, are all made of iron." The younger male watched a smirk that was as dark as his earlier amusement spread across Dean's features and grinned as well.
Dean was about to say something when there was a clinking of large chains and a door was opened somewhere. Two men entered the room holding a limp third between them. One barked out something that sounded to him like 'Chain him up.' but Dean couldn't be sure at the moment. He watched as the two men uncerimoniously dropped the limp man to the dusty floor and proceeded to chain him to the wall. Dean glanced over at his brother who was still seated in the same manner as before and cocked a brow at him. Sam gave a shrug but remained silent. Dean nodded and returned to watching.
Sam watched his brother as the elder now decided to settle back. He leaned back against the wall now and folded his arms over his chest as best as the chains would allow. Both legs extended forward and crossed at the ankle. Both males were wearing sandals that were strapped to their calves up to just below the knee. The leather skirt and sandals looked a bit like Spartan gear to Sam. Dean's eyes were closed now as he let his chin fall forward to his chest. The elder Winchester looked to be sleeping, but Sam knew better. He was listening. And if Sam spoke he would be given a very evil look. The flickering light bounced off his brother's skin making his tanned skin seem more golden than usual. "Incoming." Dean husked making Sam start. Hazel eyes opened and looked up as two more guards walked in and then into their 'cell.'
Dean found himself being uncuffed and jerked into a standing position. He glared at the man that found himself shorter than Dean and then looked over as Sam gave an identicle glare to the man before him. A third guard walked in and barked something in Latin to the other two and Dean again looked at Sam. Sam motioned for him to wait with his head and Dean gave a slight nod. The two guards looked to one another and then one motioned for them to follow. Dean didn't move until Sam started to and then fell into step along side the taller. Sam tilted his head in Dean's direction and muttered, "We're to be suited up and given weapons." Dean nodded and breathed, "Did he say what kind?" Sam shook his head and straightened when they reached a room that looked like a small armory.
Both men were left alone in the room with a fourth man. This one was a bit portlier than the guards they had already encountered. When the man, who at the moment, had his back to them, turned to face them Sam gave a hiss and Dean's eyes went wide. Sam and Dean watched as he looked them over with intent eyes and then cleared his throat. "You two sure got fuckin' lucky."
A/N Please R&R. I'd love to know what you guys think. And yes, I left it as a cliff hangar for a reason. Let you all guess and ponder as to who the guy is before I put up the next chapter. ^.^