*Disclaimer-Supernatural and its characters are owned by the CW and all the people who were smart enough to create them and unfortunately this wasn't me. OC is mine though, so yay for creative license. This is rated M for eventual sexual content (talk about a slow burn), language, and violence. There are descriptions/mentions of sexual assault, although not super graphic, so if that's something that will bother you please skip over this because I don't want to make you sad. Also, this is the first time I've written a fanfic that has seen the light of day, so bare with me while I get used to it. Please rate, review, download, favorite, whatever it is you cool kids do. I hope you enjoy! :) *

The room was dimly lit, a single lamp with an old, ratty shade sitting in the corner the only source of light. Her vision was blurry as she opened her eyes slowly, but she could tell that the room was sparsely furnished. Her ears were ringing painfully as well, as if she had been standing near a loud speaker at a concert or loud machinery. She tried to remember where she'd been that would have been that loud, but her memory was too fuzzy. She glanced around. Besides the lamp, there was a small table and chair by the window and a nightstand next to the bed she was on. She noticed that the windows had heavy curtains that were covered in a thick layer of dust and could easily block out any light that tried to come through. There was a heavy wooden door with a large iron handle that, from her limited angle, seemed to be the only entrance and exit to the room. The entire room was exposed brick, and reminded her of a warehouse. In an attempt to figure out where she was, she tried to sit up and was immediately overcome by a wave of nausea. She closed her eyes to try to combat the feeling and became aware of something on her wrists. She cautiously opened her eyes and glanced down. Thick leather straps kept her tethered to the bed. Panicked, she began tugging at them but after a couple minutes of struggling, she gave up. She could feel similar restraints around her ankles. She closed her eyes again and fought back tears. There were no options. The location was unfamiliar and whoever had brought her here was obviously intent on keeping her. She was tired, groggy, and nauseated, with no recollection of how she'd gotten there. A creak echoed across the room as the door slowly eased open. A tall figure, hidden by shadow, slid past the door and carefully closed it behind him.

"Oh good, you're awake. I was worried I may have gone too far." The figure stepped out of the shadows. "How are you feeling? Groggy, I'm sure. I'm sorry, that's my fault. You see, I normally would have some help and your boyfriend...that was your boyfriend, correct?...well he gave me more trouble than I anticipated. I was distracted and maybe a little clumsy." As he approached the bed she tried to focus on his features, but her vision was still blurry, and she was so tired. So, so tired. He crossed the space quickly and sat on the edge of the bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "But you're here now! That's the important thing." He slowly pushed a strand of rogue hair from her face. "Oh, I have forgotten my manners. My name is Sebastian. What is yours?" She opened her mouth to answer but immediately closed it. What was her name?

"I...I'm not sure..." Her voice came out raspy and dry. She could feel panic swelling in her chest, and she struggled weakly against the shackles. "Where am I?...What...why am I here?" He smiled slightly.

"I should let you rest. Yes, you should rest." He stood, his tall form towering above her. "We will talk later, when you're feeling better. There's much to discuss." He quickly disappeared and the door shut quietly behind him. She closed her eyes and choked back a sob. She had to find a way out, but she was so tired. She fought against closing her eyes but finally succumbed to her exhaustion and whatever it was he'd drugged her with.

The rain was coming down in sheets, and the Impala's windshield wipers struggled to keep up. Dean squinted as lightning flashed across the sky, briefly illuminating his surroundings in a harsh white light before everything was sunk into inky blackness once more. He glanced over to see his brother, slouched against the door, fast asleep and faintly snoring. It was the first time in days that Dean had seen Sam relax enough to sleep. He was grimacing, but asleep.

"Better than nothing," Dean thought, turning his attention back to the road. It had been a rough couple weeks and as usual, the brothers were blaming themselves for things they couldn't control. Dean was handling it better than he normally would, but Sam had taken it hard. It was supposed to be a simple salt and burn, but then everything had gone tits up and, even though the spirit had been put to rest, Sam had been roughed up pretty bad and the girl they were trying to protect was killed. Although it didn't happen often, the rare failures were still hard to deal with. The kid was already full of guilt, although Dean had to wonder what hunter wasn't, including himself. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hard rock coming from his phone. "Shit," Dean mumbled as he dug around in his pocket trying to get to it before it stopped ringing. "Pinky's Porno Palace...what's your pleasure?"

"Dean? Is this...do I have the right number?" Dean heard the phone being fumbled as the person checked to make sure they had dialed correctly. "I don't remember calling a porn store...Dean?"

"Dude, yes, it's me." A sigh of relief sounded from the other phone.

"Well, thank goodness. It's Garth." Dean rolled his eyes.

"What do you want, man?" Dean heard the shuffle of papers as Garth searched for the reason he called.

"Yea, we have a case that came up, fairly close to you. Are you at the bunker?"

"We are heading there now, but we just got done with a case, we haven't slept in days. Can't someone else do it?" There was a beat of silence. "Garth, can't someone else do it, man? We're freakin' beat."

"It's pretty hectic out there right now, since the angels fell...there's just a lot...going on..." Garth trailed off and Dean glanced at Sam.

"Yea, yea, we'll be home-" Dean was interrupted as a giant bolt of lightning struck a tree, which caused it to crash into the road. "Son of a bitch!" Dean swerved to miss it and dropped the phone to put his hand back on the wheel. He began to feel the wheels give up their grip on the wet road. "Dammit!" He corrected the other way and the tires squealed in protest. He made it around the tree but the car went into a spin because of the over correction. Dean felt Sam fall into him as the car swerved violently. The car somehow came to a stop mere inches from the tree, although the Impala now faced the opposite direction. Dean was out of breath and his heart was racing. "I should lay off diner burgers," he mumbled, a hand on his chest. He looked at Sam, who seemed to be dazed but okay.

"What the hell was that?!" Dean gestured toward the tree.

"I don't know, Sammy, I just thought we needed a little excitement." Sam returned Dean's flippant answer with an eye roll.

"Guys! Hey, are you okay? Dean?" A tiny voice came from the floor near Dean's feet. He fumbled around and finally found his phone.

"We're fine. Send what you have to Sam."

"Okay, when-" Dean hung up on Garth and threw the phone in the backseat.

"I'm changing my number and if someone finds it, I'm not answering." He carefully turned the car around.

"What'd he want?"

"We've got a case. He's sending the stuff over. Apparently it's near the bunker." He looked at Sam. "You okay?"

"Yea, I'm fine." Sam pulled his laptop out of its bag and powered it on. "Looks like a man was killed in his home, all doors were locked, and it appeared that he'd been bitten by something." Sam squinted at the screen. "I'll have to look closer when we get to the bunker, but it almost looks like a vamp bite. Weird."

"Why's that weird?" Sam shrugged.

"That's not really a vamp's M.O., right? A locked house in a nice neighborhood, just to leave it behind? Something could have gone wrong, but that's too good of a target to just leave the dude laying there. I dunno." He shut his laptop and put it back in its bag. "I'll look at it more when we get home." Home. That word still felt foreign to Dean, an impossibility that would eventually be taken away.

"Yea, home...why don't you try to go back to sleep? We've still got a couple hours." Sam put his forehead against the cool window and watched the rain come down.

"Yea, sure, Dean," he replied quietly. Dean threw a worried look towards him but said nothing. The Impala sped through the rain, carrying the boys home in silence.

When she woke again, the ringing in her ears was gone, and her vision was no longer blurry. She noticed a glass of water on the nightstand and realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd drank anything. She shifted herself into as much of a sitting position as her bindings would allow and tried to reach the glass. Her fingertips brushed the slick glass but it sat just out of reach. She tried again and cried out in pain when her shoulder twinged in warning. She sat back against the headboard and tried to catch her breath. She still couldn't see anything that could tell her where she was, but she did notice a door she hadn't seen before.

"There's another door. Good. Remember that door," she mumbled to herself. "Who am I...who am I..." She closed her eyes and repeated the phrase like a mantra. "Who...am...I..." A face popped into her mind, a handsome thin face with a shock of unruly black hair and hazel eyes. "Benjamin." She'd been with Benjamin when she'd been taken. "Benjamin...Benjamin...who am I...who." She squeezed her eyes shut tight and tried to push down the panic slowly easing its way into her chest. She could feel her chest tighten and it was getting harder to breath. "No, not now...not now...what do you see?" She scanned the room. Lamp. Table. Curtains. Nightstand. Bed. "What do you feel?" Sheet. Leather...she couldn't do it. She had no range of motion, no way to reach out and touch anything. She could feel the tears coming. "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." She began pulling as hard as she could on the leather cuffs, so hard that she eventually felt something warm trickling down her arm. She was bleeding. She began to cry then, huge, wracking sobs that shook her to the core. "My name is Ava...I'm Ava..." she said with each sob, each repetition becoming more and more quiet. "I'm...Ava." She sunk down and closed her eyes. She was out of tears, exhausted, and she had no idea what she was going to do.

Ava had fallen into a fitful sleep. She dreamt of coming home just to find that the front door was standing open, but only enough to see if you were directly on the porch. She gently nudged it open, her heart pounding a loud rhythm in her ears. She flipped the light switch, but the house remained swathed in darkness. "Ben?" She called out softly. "I'm home, where are you? She snapped her head to the left when she heard a sound from the kitchen. "Ben?" She slowly walked towards the sound. Maybe he was listening to music. Ben did that while he cooked. As she turned the corner, she found Ben tied to a kitchen chair and gagged. His eyes grew wide when he saw her. He began to shake his head violently and yelling incoherently through the tape. "Oh my God, Ben..." She ran towards him, but felt a large hand clamp around her upper arm.

"Well, look who's home!"

Shejerked awake, her breath caught in her throat. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the tall, slender man had sprawled himself in the chair by the window.

"You're awake." He casually stood and strode to the bed, and looked down at her. "My, what did you do to your wrists? You've got blood everywhere." The man clucked his tongue. "We will take care of that later. Do you remember my name, sweetheart?" Ava looked at him but didn't answer. "It's Sebastian. You'll do well to remember that." He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. She jerked it away but he pulled her back, his grip so tight and painful she truly thought he could break her wrist with just one hand. "I think we should start by setting some ground rules. How does that sound?" Sebastian did not release his grip on Ava's arm, and she could tell it was going to be bruised. "I am trying to make this as simple for you as I can. I want you to be happy. So, I need you to do a few things for me. For instance, if I ask a question, I expect an answer. I may need you intact, but it certainly doesn't mean I can't have any fun with you. Struggling is simply out of the question," he glanced at her bloody arms, "but I'll let your little transgression slide this time since we didn't talk about my expectations." He paused and looked at her hungrily. For the first time since she'd seen him, Ava really looked at Sebastian. His eyes were a dark brown, almost black, and it was hard to even differentiate between his irises and his pupils. His soft hair laid gently across his forehead in wisps of coal black and the ends curled ever so slightly. It curled around his ears gently, and was long enough that it brushed the collar of his shirt. He was dangerously handsome, pale, and a dark shadow of bristle graced his chin. He was thin, but his well-tailored clothes accentuated his muscled form. His eyes narrowed under well trimmed eyebrows for a moment and then he smiled. It was a cold smile which did not quite reach his eyes, and revealed teeth that seemed a little too sharp to be normal. "If you follow these expectations, we shouldn't have any problems! So I'll ask again. What is your name?" Ava looked at him defiantly but said nothing. "Oh, sweet girl. Your bravery, although a quality I admire and a trait that will make this whole thing much easier as you will certainly need it, will not be useful right now. It is not in your best interest to abuse my patience." His hand slid up slowly to caress her face. "Let's try this one more time. What...is...your...name?" Ava swallowed nervously as she felt a cold knot of fear tighten in her stomach. Despite her fear, she remained silent. His cold, slender fingers were at her throat in a moment, and she could have sworn his eyes had flashed a bright blue before the color was swallowed back up by his almost black irises. His grip tightened around her throat hard enough to bruise and make it difficult to breathe but not enough to actually cut off her air supply and licked his lips. "Okay, well it doesn't really matter anyway. I was hoping to have a nice conversation, but obviously I was mistaken." He shoved his hand hard against her throat, which slammed her head into the wrought iron headboard behind her. Hot white stars flashed across her vision and for a moment, between the shock of the blow and the pain, she thought she would pass out. As swiftly as he had shoved her into the headboard, he had stood and crossed the room in the same motion. He was so incredibly fast. He grabbed the chair and a bag that she hadn't noticed before, then slammed the chair next to the bed and sat down. "You don't have to say a word really, but I was very much hoping we would be friendly enough to share." As he opened the bag, she realized it was her bag. He fished around for a moment and pulled out an embroidered wallet. "This is beautiful! Did you do this?" Her nod was barely perceptible but he caught it and flashed a smile. "See, that's my girl! All I want is a little participation." His fingers ran gently over the soft thread, tracing the pattern. "Where did you come up with this design?" he asked softly as he briefly glanced at her before looking back down at the wallet. She swallowed painfully.

"It just came into my head." Speaking was torture. She wasn't sure how long it had been since she'd had anything to drink, but every word, every swallow burned. It felt as if someone had taken sandpaper to her throat. Her voice was barely above a whisper but her reply seemed to please Sebastian.

"Interesting." He opened the wallet and perused the contents. He found her drivers license and tossed the rest on the nightstand. "Ava Rosalyn Walker." He whistled quietly to himself. "That is a beautiful name. Old. Do you know what Ava means, where it came from?" She shook her head. "Ah, well let me educate you. Ava is an old name, and it can be found in different cultures, across different time periods. It has its own cultural meanings as it crosses the oceans, spanning centuries. Of course, you were probably named after Ava Gardner, stunning woman in her own right and an absolute delight to watch perform, but it's actual origins appear much earlier than that. Some say that it may be from the Latin word 'avis', meaning bird. Common consensus though is that it is a shortened version of the Hebrew word 'chava', meaning life or living one. The Old English have a name that is similar, Avalyn, which means breath of life." He fell silent as he stared at the license. "Although unplanned, this little plot twist changes things...for the better though, my dear, don't worry." He looked up and met her bright blue-green eyes with his black ones and a chill went down her spine. "I see you're an organ donor. I truly am having a magnificent stroke of luck."