ULTIMATE DISCLAIMER: Every content, character, plot etc. that anyone is able to recognize as other's property is NOT mine. I have no intention to get into any trouble involving law and money.

ULTIMATE WARNING: So far most of my stories are turning out to be SLASH and MPREG. So they may contain mature, Male/Male Relationship and not so graphic sex scenes between two men. If you can't stand these or don't want to read them, please leave this story behind!

AU, OOC. Slavery.

Hey, guys! This is the story you voted for. The title is not that good... I mean it's good, but it could have been better. My brain wasn't cooperating with me. :(

Anyway, I hope you will like this story. Enjoy reading the chapter!

Chapter 1: Captured

The harsh rays of the sun were just barely peeking out from the blanket of the clouds. Despite being late June, a cold wind blew across the houses of Sioux Falls. Outside the town, in the middle of a field sat a smaller two-story house. The turquoise painting cracked off already, giving the house a worn look, the shutters of the windows were unclean, the dirt covering up the pure white painting. The lawn was unkempt; the yard was sandy and cracked. People would think, not a living soul would voluntarily live in this place, but the worn Ford on the driveway said the opposite.

Inside, the wallpapers were slowly peeling off the wooden covering of the wall, its flowery pattern covered in dirt; some of it had holes, as the paper thinned with time. The house was almost empty, just the basic furniture present. The only exception was the living room: the whole area was filled with old books. You could find it on the shelves, on the table, some of the collection on the chairs, and one or two even lying on the floor. The room itself had a huge casement-window with a beautiful view of the outside world. Even though the yard wasn't in order, the mere sight of nature could make the heart feel at peace and harmony.

One of the occupants of this place was thinking along those lines, as he gazed out that window. Samuel Singer was sitting on a sofa-bed with a book in his lap. The twenty-year-old had been musing about his life for a while now, his attention drifting away from the book he chose to read this morning. His hazel-green eyes were glancing into the nothingness, a soft longing sigh breaking out of his lungs.

It was almost ten years ago that he and his father, Robert Singer moved here with no reason. At least Sam didn't know the reason for the sudden change. His father just picked him up from his room, threw him into the oldest car they owned, the Ford that was standing outside, then after tossing their bags into the trunk, they left their mansion as quickly as you can say: 'Move!' Sam tried to pry the truth out of his father from time to time, but the old man wouldn't budge. Once his father got so mad that Sam knew Bobby was a hair's breadth away from slapping him, but instead he just sent him into his room.

Sam turned back to his book with another sigh. His father was in the town on his usual supply run, giving his son strict orders not to leave the house. The boy could barely step out of his prison; Bobby even hired a friend of his to home-school his son. Sam didn't understand why his father keeps him locked up and when he asked about it, Bobby only replied with a gruff 'Protection.' and the topic was dismissed. Could it be that his father was ashamed of him? Sam was in his early teens when he found out he was different. But Bobby always said he was special and that he was proud of him and Sam saw the sincerity in his light-blue eyes and in the brilliant smile Bobby gave him every single time.

Sam sighed sadly; he was glad his father cared about him this much, but he started to feel lonely. And he had this bad habit to want to know everything. But the boy knew that this topic was painful for his father, so he always backed away from it, for the sake of the man. He was about to return to his book, when the front door slammed open then shut close forcefully. Sam jumped from his place just as his father stormed into the living room with a worn duffel bag.

"Pack your stuff!" Bobby ordered hurriedly and started to shove things into the bag.

"Dad, what's going on?" Sam asked confused and a little terrified. It was just like ten years ago, with a tiny difference: Sam was now too tall, taller than his father, for Bobby to get his son in his arms and throw him into the car.

"There's no time! Come on, move it!" Bobby rushed out and moved to the table.

"Dad, please, you're scaring me…" Sam started, his voice trembling slightly, but his father cut him off with a shout:

"I said MOVE IT!"

Sam stepped back from shock then quickly hurried away, getting his jacket on the way.

Bobby was running around the house like a chicken with its head cut off. It can't happen! They had to get away, before they found them! As he was emptying the drawers of the table, he heard a soft noise next to him.

"You packed up?" he asked, thinking it was his son. But he was wrong.

The cocking of a gun made him freeze. No, please…

"Mr. Singer" came a deep, official-sounding voice. Bobby looked towards the source. A clean-shaved, stern face gazed back at him with a hard stare. The man was in a suit, representing the authorities. Bobby knew now that he was late.

"Who are you?" he asked, ignoring the gun trained at his head by a police officer.

"My name is Balthazar Graven" the man in the suit replied in a slight British accent. "I'm sure you know why we're here."

"Where's my son?" Bobby growled at the blonde man, whose brown eyes showed some sympathy despite his cruel tone. Graven nodded at the officer, who let out a harsh whistle. Soon sounds of struggle floated into the room, its source being the staircase, then two more orderlies stepped in with Sam between them. The boy's mouth was covered with duct tape and his hands were tied in front of him, the orderlies held onto him firmly, as the young man tried to shake them off. Bobby's face fell and he was not far from bursting into tears, seeing his dear boy in such a state. Sam looked up at him with fear and confusion, letting out a pathetic whine, begging his father for an explanation.

"You know hiding a Different One is a serious act against the law, Mr. Singer" Graven spoke up, his voice soft, but firm. Bobby sent the man a death glare but stayed silent. "But" Graven continued, "we're willing to make an exception in your case. Seeing as you're a member of the upper classes and have very much influence in the government's decisions, we're inclined to let you off the hook. However, you have to give your son to the authorities willingly…"

"If you even think I'll give my boy to you on a silver platter, you're…" Bobby was cut off by Sam's scared whine, causing the older man to look at his son. Sam was shaking his head, pleading to his father with his eyes not to do anything stupid. Bobby looked at his precious, beautiful boy, who almost grew up to a fine young man, but he still needed some polishing in his opinion. But as he stared into those hazel-green eyes that the boy inherited from his deceased mother, Bobby saw that it wasn't needed. His baby boy was already a man. Sam nodded a bit in encouragement and Bobby grudgingly agreed to his decision.

"I'm sorry" he whispered. Sam nodded, a tear rolling down his face. Bobby turned to Graven. "Can I say goodbye at least?"

"Make it quick!" Graven answered without hesitation. Bobby hurried to his boy and cradled his face in both of his hands.

"You'll be alright, son" he murmured to him shakily, as he caressed the chestnut-brown locks. "Just do as they say and you won't be harmed, alright?" Sam just nodded rapidly as the weight of the situation finally registered in his mind. "I'm gonna find you someday, okay? We're gonna meet again." Sam let out a small sob at that but nodded. "I promise you that we meet again." All of a sudden the two orderlies yanked Sam away from his father and started to drag him out of the house. "I love you, son!" Bobby cried after him and heard Sam's answering cry from the front door.

"I'm sorry" Graven said honestly. "But rules are rules, Mr. Singer." With that he left the house, leaving Bobby alone. The older man collapsed into a chair and grieved his son with loud, harsh sobs.

Sam shook from fear as he was dragged away from the house to a big truck. Before they reached the vehicle, though, he was plunged in darkness: the third orderly pulled a small sack onto his head. The rope around his arms loosened, his limbs were pulled behind his back and his wrists were tied together again. Finally he was thrown into the back of the truck and his ankles were crossed and tied together, too. After two slams of the backdoors and then a few slams of other car doors, the truck's engine revved to life and they started moving. Sam finally let go of his tears, knowing that he possibly will never see his father again.

TBC

So, how was it? Good start? I'm proud with the beginning scene with our Sammy in it. He's so sweet there. :)

Sadie is already excited about the next chapter. And you, guys?

Read and review! They keep the story going. :) See you soon (hopefully)!