Hey everyone, thank you so much for reading. I have been asked if this story is inspired by other stories about phsychic slavery. there are many stories about this topic, and they all have much in commen. my favorits are: Semper Familia by lovely katzenSPN, or Sam I Am by lenelle, or Sammy In Captivity by mentol pixie. for more great stories by othe people, you should cheack my favorits- all great stories, mostly Sam centric.

John paid the dealer with a stack of rolled cash. The dealer undid some of the locks and the kid fell gracelessly forward, into the cold filthy mad, abused muscles unable to cooperate. Dean could hear the dealer yelling and saw the kid flinching, the dealers hand tangled in the kid's long hair and then he was pulling him onto his feet by the-The night was dark and quite, the moon shone directly onto the pole to which the boy was tied. Dean stayed in the car and kept his distance- he couldn't, wouldn't take part in this. It was a truly terrible thing his father was doing, and Dean was unable to stop it. He kept his eyes trained on the chained boy. He was young, maybe fifteen, and tall- maybe as tall as Dean, even. he couldn't really know, though- not with the kid kneeling on the ground.

The kid sure was a skinny thing, scary thin, ribs and spine poking through stretched tight, pale skin. His eyes were trained down, and on his mouth was that awful device that he sometimes saw on wild bears- a gag that seemed to lock from the inside. A thin trail of blood and drool was dripping from the side of his mouth onto the ground, coloring his ragged, ugly T-shirt with specks of red.

"Stop!" Dean got out of the car and ran towards his father, horrified. "Stop! What the fuck are you doing-"

The kid raised his eyes, and Dean stopped short on his hills. They were huge, and desperate, and scared.

"Don't hurt him, you fucker."

"Dean, we need to get it to the car," Said John. "Don't be melodramatic."

"Sir, I'm truly sorry if I upset you," the Dealer's fingers were still pulling the boy's hair, making him crane his back. "Would you want me to-"
"Ill get him to the car," Dean said shortly, never sparing a glance for his father. "What's his name?"
"It doesn't have a name," says the dealer. "There is a number on the collar though, and you can name it whatever you'd like."
"I need the keys for the chains," Dean answered with a clipped tone.
"The ones on his hands stay," said john.
"I can't believe you are actually doing this, "said dean. "This is a child."
"Don't let it's appearance allure you, sir," said the dealer. "He may seem human, but it is psychic. The law stands by our side, you have nothing to worry about. And this one-" he slaps the kid on his back- "This one is obedient and useful. Can't talk back, which is always good. He does get sick easy if you leave him outside, though, and you have to feed him with a straw."
"How do I take the gag off him?"
"you don't," his father and the flesh dealer answered together.
Dean tried his best not to vomit and knelt down next to the boy. "I'm gonna pick you up now, alright?"
The kid stared bright eyed and terrified, breath coming out in sharp huffs,.

"Ill take that as a yes," said Dean and scooped him bridal style. The boy was rigid and feather light, the only thing heavy about him were the chains, cutting deep into his skin.
He didn't take his usual passenger sit, but sat next to the boy, who's head was bowed in submission while Dean was working on the locks.
"I'm so sorry about all this, I can't even-"
"Dean, hurry it up!"
Dean ignored his father and the shackles on the boy's ankles finally fell of. He tried every lock pick he had on the ones on his hands, but nothing worked. John sled into the driver's sir, throwing a glance into the back. "you're sitting with it, not up front? Son, I understand that you are disappointed in me. But this one may help us. And we wont treat it badly, as long as it will behave," he sent a warning look onto the shivering boy, who seemed to sink lower in the sit then humanly possible.
"Stop scaring him," snapped Dean. "You bought a slave, that's what just happen, and I will never approve of that, ever, so don't even try. And this kid will not be our-"
"Bitch," completed his father, and the kid shuttered, long and hard. He curled into himself. "Its more then most psychic kids can ever hope for, Dean. Stop looking at me like I'm a monster. There's only one in this car, and it ain't me boy, that's for sure."
"Dad, how can you-"
"We are not discussing this anymore." John pulled into the gravel road and started the drive.
The kid hid his face between shackled arms.

John dragged the kid by the hand, his grip vice like, and keyed the entrance to the shitty motel room of the week. "It-"
"Don't call him that," said Dean.
"-He needs to take a shower. You reek," he addressed the boy, who blushed fiercely. John pushed the kid- not cruelly, decisively- into the room. One bed, one couch. A shower and a tiny stove. No central heating. "Great, just… great," mumbled Dean.

"How is he suppose to shower with his hands shackled like this, huh?"
"He will manage," said his father and turned away, putting his duffle on the floor. "I'm gonna go get some food. Call me if it has a vision."
"How am I suppose to know?" Dean lifted his gaze towards his father.
"The dealer says he gets noisy if he has one," said his father, pocketed the car keys and left.

As soon as john left, the kid deflated, tension Dean hasn't even noticed was in his shoulders gone. He looks at Dean with a tired look of… Dean didn't really know what to make of it, but it scared him. "Can you sit on the bed, for me?"

The kid nodded, then moved- slowly, reluctant. He sat on the bed, head lowered. The tension was back, and he shook slightly. He closed his eyes.
Dean knelt in front of him, inspecting the bridle. It has sank into the skin, cutting deep. It locked onto a collar that has circled the slender neck, so tight that it also has cut into the flesh. On it were numbers and a letter- 2583. J.
Dean trailed his fingers on the boys face. Then the kid whimpered.
Dean frowned. This shouldn't have hurt. But the kid hasn't made a sound until then, so it must be bad.
"Im sorry, am a hurting you?"
the kid shook his head franticly from side to side, breathing shallow and fast.
"Look at me," Dean didn't mean to sound harsh. It just came out of him unexpectedly. The kid whimpered again, then raised his eyes. There was nothing there but pure terror, but Dean couldn't figure out why. "I don't mean to scare you. Sorry about my dad."
the boy nodded twice, quick, desperate look coloring his face in a gray tint.
"I want to get you out of this-" Dean gestured to the shackles and the bridle. "and take a look at how bad your injuries bad. Are they bad?"
The kid looked at him, uncomprehending. Then he raised one hand, slowly, and made a motion of so-so.
"Okay," Dean said, gently. "Im gonna take care of you, you hear me? As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you, I promise."
The kid's eyes grew very wide, the dim light coloring them dark green. His face paled even further, but he nodded desperately.
"You have a name?"
The kid shrugged, but there was something wistful about it. He pointed a shaky finger to the collar on his neck.
"Im not gonna call you 2583, man. It's too weird."
The kid shrugged again.
"If I call you Jay, would that be okay?"
The kid nodded.
"Jay it is, then," Said Dean.

Dean found the keys to Jay's shackles in his father's duffle bag. He unlocked them and pried the stained metal open. The site was truly awful- the kid must have been shackled for a really long time, that was the only explanation to the mangled state of his wrists. They were infected and bloody and painful looking, the skin so swollen that is was actually hard to separate the metal from the flesh." I have to disinfect that," Dean said, wincing in sympathy. "but only after you showered."
The state of his ankles wasn't much better. And his mouth… Dean couldn't find the key anywhere, he didn't even know where to begin with this delicate operation.
"Take a shower so we can disinfect everything afterwards, Jay."
The kid got onto his feet, wavered and almost fell. Dean rolled his eyes good naturally. "Chick style it is, man. That's awkward," he added. He scooped Jay, who seemed terrified, into his hands again, grabbing a pack of clean close of his. "Do you want your privacy or should I go in with you? I wouldn't mind, you know, if that's what you need. Not in the creepy way," he added. The kid closed his eyed and sniffed hard. Dean carried him to the bathroom, turned on the harsh neon lights, sat Jay on the toilet closed led, and started the water going. Warm water soon filled the bathtub, and Dean was pleased. "awesome," he said, and turned to Jay. "now all you need is- man, what's wrong?"

Jay was crying, silent sobs racking his slight form, hot tears trailing his cheeks. He was trembling all over, knuckles white, eyes shut tight. It seemed that he had trouble breathing like this, with his mouth shut and his airways clogging. "Man, what hurts? Talk to me," Dean felt really stupid as soon as the words left his mouth. He grabbed a tissue paper and pushed it near the boy's nose. "blow, or you're going to choke. What's going on?"
Jay shook his head, this long hair falling and covering his face. He blew his nose and took the paper from Dean, pocketing it. "Common, spill. What's going on? "
The kid shrugged. It must be hard to talk when you can't use your mouth, Dean thought bitterly. "Do you want me to stay?"
the kid went still for a long moment, then raised haunted, ill looking eyes to Dean. He shook his head minutely, then hid his face between his fingers in a gesture that started to seem familiar, shoulders rising up to meet his ears.
"okay," Dean said carefully. "Bang twice on the tab floor if you need me. Ill be right out here, alright?"
The kid seemed shocked to see him leave. He left the door open a sliver, and waited.