Alright, well this is my first fan-fic so be nice! Just a warning, there will probably be explicit rape scenes later on, so if that isn't your thing you shouldn't read it. I'll post other warnings before each chapter. Sorry for my sadistic tendencies :3 Uhh, I'm not good at forewords, so enjoy!
Warnings: Not much in this one... Some language?
Regaining consciousness was hard, harder than it had any right to be. Making the attempt was like trying to swim through a pit of tar with your hands tied behind your back and iron weights attached to your legs. Every time I tried, I sort of floundered halfway to the surface, then gave up and allowed myself to be dragged back into the murk. In a distant corner of my mind still bearing some semblance of coherency, I understood that I needed to wake up. Something bad had happened, something really bad, and I needed to stop sitting on my ass right the fuck now. Unfortunately it took the rest of me a little longer to get the memo. When it finally registered, the tar had thinned to a liquid more consistent to a clingy mud. With a colossal effort, I finally managed to claw my way to the surface, and opened my eyes.
It was a few moments before they actually decided to start working. I stared dully at the ceiling, too exhausted to do anything else. My body felt like it had been pumped full of lead, and my thoughts were strangely disjointed. I couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds at a time.
A pinching sensation around my right wrist finally gave me enough motivation to tear my gaze from the ceiling and slowly roll my eyes in that direction. The blurry figure of a man was bending over me, fiddling with something above my head. I didn't remember ever seeing him before. His bright blue eyes and straight dark hair were unfamiliar, as was the tanned complexion. Vaguely, I noted a small gold stud sparkling in his right ear.
I stared curiously for a moment, confused but not frightened, wondering who he was. His eyebrows were drawn slightly in concentration, and he was still leaning over me, hands busy with something outside my field of view. I didn't realize what that was until the pinching returned and a smooth band of metal clicked shut around my wrist. Are those... handcuffs? What the hell? I thought slowly, noticing for the first time that my other hand was cuffed as well. I tried to tug on the restraints, but all that happened was a faint ripple along the muscles in my arms, which seemed to have gone on strike. It was as though my brain was cut off from the rest of my body. Just blinking was an effort.
However, the slight movement had caught the man's attention. He glanced over at me, then his mouth split into a grin, the teeth startlingly white against his brown skin. "You're awake," he said. His tone was light, casual. He straightened up and surveyed me, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. "I'm surprised. We dosed you good enough to keep you down for another couple of hours at least." I looked at him, the meaning of his words sluggishly filtering through my thick skull. Wha... he drugged me? I finally thought, slightly indignant. I couldn't grasp why this bothered me so much. I had a feeling it wasn't a polite thing you usually did to people, but for the life of me I couldn't remember why, and I turned this over in my head. Vaguely, I realized the drug was doing this to me, but my focus kept slipping away, leaving my thoughts a chaotic, senseless mess. At last I gave up and just eyed the man, who was watching my internal struggle with apparent amusement.
He chuckled slightly at my glazed look and drew a thick wad of fabric from his pocket. "I guess you're still a little out of it," he smirked. "Still," he forced my mouth open and jammed the cloth inside. "We can't risk you actually wakin' up and calling for help. I'd hate to upset the neighbors like that." Another strip was wound around my head, keeping the first firmly in place. He sat back with a satisfied air and looked me up and down. "That's better," he proclaimed, checking the cuffs a final time.
By now, the hazy fog filling my head had thinned minutely, but enough for me to yank feebly at my restraints. The man laughed, and gave me a mocking pat on the head before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him with a snap. I fell back, feeling the clouds flooding back with a vengeance, and reluctantly allowed the drug to drag me back into the waiting blackness.
The next time I woke, the confused, fuzzy feeling had lessened considerably. Unfortunately, panic had rushed in to take its place. I peered through the darkness the room had been left in- windows either being non-existent or blocked off- and felt my heartbeat start to race. My breaths were coming fast and shallow, and sweat beaded on my palms. I stared wildly around, jerking against my shackled wrists, thinking for an insane moment that maybe I could tear the metal apart like Leoben fucking Conoy and escape. Calm down Sam! Just chill for a minute and think about this!" I screamed at myself.
With an effort, I stopped thrashing and lay there, panting. My heart was still desperately trying to bust its way out of my ribcage, as though determined to explode out of my chest in a gory demise. I took a few deep breaths, willing for it to slow, and as I did I realized blood was trickling down my arms from where the metal bands had dug into the skin. I ignored it, tugging once more on the cuffs, but they were clamped tightly around my wrists. Even with my skin slick with blood, I could tell I wouldn't be able to pull my hands free. For a brief moment I wished Dean was here. A smile tugged at my lips. I could almost hear his exasperated voice. "Christ Sammy, next time you get yourself kidnapped, I'm leaving you!"
I mentally shook myself, angry. I couldn't depend on Dean and Dad to get me out of every little situation. I was a Winchester, and dammit I was going to get myself out of whatever shit I had walked into. With that, I pulled myself out of my thoughts and looked around the room, scanning it for something that would help me.
The space was small, maybe nine feet by seven. The only source of illumination was the small chink of light that filtered in from under the single door. By its feeble glow, and a great deal of eye-straining, I could make out no windows adorning the walls. For the first time, now I was calm enough to notice, I saw I was lying on a small, dirty mattress. My legs were cuffed securely to the foot of the bed, and my wrists were chained to each side of the headboard. To my disappointment, it was metal. Carefully, I felt around for anything I could use as a lockpick. The smooth wall yielded nothing, nor did the mattress. My spirits fell. Of all the times I had slept on spring-filled motel beds that jabbed me mercilessly whenever I so much as twitched, now had to be the time I actually needed one.
Moving on for the moment, I tried rubbing my face against my shoulder, hoping I could dislodge the gag. I could hear faint voices coming through the thin wall behind me, I only needed one good shout to draw their attention. All my efforts got me was a growing sense of despair. The gag was tied too tightly and even yelling through the thick cloth produced only a sort of muffled, drawn-out grunt. I tried anyway, shouting at the top of my lungs until my throat was raw.
By the time I collapsed back against the bed, real fear was starting to well up. The people who had taken me had been meticulous. They knew what they were doing. That line of thought brought up a disturbing question, one I had been trying to avoid. Who took me? And for what? The whole thing didn't set off any paranormal warning bells, and sure Dad had made a lot of enemies over the years, but to go so far as to kidnap his son? Then again, with our luck it wouldn't be that surprising, I thought wryly. Not to mention we can deal with some pretty messed up people.
As if summoned by my thoughts, footsteps suddenly sounded outside the door, accompanied by two sets of voices. I tensed, straining to hear what was being said. Before I could make out more than a few meaningless words, the door was flung open. I squinted, eyes burning in the unexpected light, and turned my face away so they could adjust.
"...you imagine how much money he's gonna get us?" someone said. I recognized it as the same dark haired guy I'd seen when I first woke up. A gleeful chuckle followed.
"You don't have to tell me. I'm getting hard just looking at him." The second voice was also male, but deeper, with the heavy rasp of a long-time smoker. I could almost hear the tobacco on his breath.
Loud footfalls crossed the room and a shadow fell over me. I turned and glared up at the man with all the defiance I could muster. The light cast his body in silhouette, and I could see he was broadshoulded, more so than his friend, but no physical wonder by any stretch. I was pretty sure I could take him if I wasn't lashed to a bed. Sideburns ran down each side of his face, enhancing the square line of his jaw. The guy's hair was a short, light blonde, with green eyes currently narrowed with some emotion that looked worryingly like Dean when he was checking out a curvy waitress chick. A shiver ran down my back. His expression was one that you definitely did not want to be the subject of while cuffed to a convenient bed. He noticed my discomfort and a cruel sneer curled his thin lips.
"Now now, Damien," the other man admonished, putting a hand on the guy's arm. "You know we can't go around selling used goods." He smiled, his unnaturally white teeth glinting.
Damien ran his eyes up and down my body. "I suppose you're right," he sighed regretfully, but not before stroking a hand down my leg in a very unwelcome gesture. I snarled through the gag and kicked out at him, but the cuffs around my ankle prevented me from moving more than a few inches. A laugh burst out of Damien's wide chest at my puny attempt. "Looks like we've got ourselves a fighter this time, eh Cole? The customers are gonna be drooling all over him!"
Cole's earring sparkled in the light as he grinned slyly. "We haven't found one like him in years." He put a hand on my chin, turning my head from side to side like he was examining a prize horse. I jerked my head away, but he just absentmindedly tightened his grip. "I'm thinking with a face like this, he'll only be affordable to the wealthier buyers. Wouldn't you agree?"
Damien said something in reply, but I took no notice. My mind was reeling. They were planning on selling me? For what? The way they talked, all the subtle innuendos about their customers had an answer flitting through my head, but I shoved it away. There was no way in hell I was going to let that happen. Instead I concentrated on Dean. I was never gonna hear the end of it for getting kidnapped by humans, and not even hunters at that! Dad was gonna be so pissed.
"...start looking around for buyers in the morning." My attention snapped back to the conversation as I caught the end of the sentence. Both men were looking at me like they were wolves and I was a lamb they were about to devour. I repressed a shudder and stared back at them, fury and hatred burning in my gaze. I would not show any weakness to them. Cole smiled patronizingly at my expression, as though I was a child demanding another cookie, or other such crap. I wished my hands were free so I could pound his smirk to a bloody pulp. See if you smile then, I thought viciously.
Cole ignored the waves of rage coming off me, and stroked a hand down my cheek in a parody of affection. "Glare away boy," he murmured. "Your little rebellious streak will be gone soon enough. I'm sure your owner will train you up nice and good." He turned and followed his companion out the room, closing the door and leaving me alone in the dark once again. I wrenched at the cuffs, twisting my hands desperately to slip them through the narrow space, but they were as tight as ever. I was so fucked.
Yayy, now this is the part where you click that annoying little review button. Right. Now. Or I will come to your house and do unspeakable things.