Time Travel Isn't All Bad, Guys.
This is a work of fiction based off of the Harry Potter books and Supernatural the TV show. I do not own the characters nor do I mean to insult or mock them. Sincerely, SilverSmithLols
Grahhng, I groaned, my eyes fluttering open. I was sitting in the middle of a dark, concert room. Cold steel biting into my wrists and ankles and the taste of copper and soot in the air. Coughing as quietly as possible, I let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Looking around the room, I noticed everything is oddly disconnected. Like when looking at fish in an aquarium, the fish in the water is clear a day but everything above the water line seen through the glass is foggy, blurred. Crap. Those prejudice assholes must have beat me while I was out too, bollocking up my eye so I can see anything worth a damn.
Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself. I was the one stupid enough to get myself into this mess the least I can do is keep cool and fix it.
Looking around the room as much as possible right now, I can see that the room is nearly empty except for a table in the far corner. I can make out some lumpy masses resting on the table top but that's about it. There is a door directly in front of me but the seal on the door is tight. Not even a crack along the underside of the door, seamless. Above me, there is a window covered with a metal grate, the only source of light in this darkness is coming from the moon I can just barely make out in the corner of the window. Glowing and utterly useless to me in my situation right now.
Okay, what next. Wiggling around in the chair, I can feel myself nailed down to something. God damn it. They even remembered to nail down the chair.
Pat. Tap. wah-wah. tap, I hear footsteps. Straining my ears I can just barely hear what sounds like the shorter man, Dean, talking. At least, I think it's him. He had a deeper voice than the other one, Sammy, did.
"Sam, I am not calling her. End of story.", said Dean.
"If you just-"
"Bah. Bah. Blah."
"Real mature, Dean. All I'm saying-"
"I hear you, but you're not hearing me. Done. I'm not talking about this anymore, Sam."
There's a tense pause and a strain my ears to hear someone say a soft "Alright", the rest I can't quite catch. Well, that or they could have said something about Allbright the painting company; this place could use a color besides black and grey. A backsplash here or there wouldn't hurt. They are batting about a zero for effort and upkeep at the moment. You know it's bad when even the air tastes of grime and despair.
Chuwooft. Tunk. Chuahhhhh., the door's metal gear shift and rock into formation as the door is slowly pushed open. Jeez, that door is probably heavy too, poor design flaw. At this point, they should give the place up as a loss. The housing market might still be pretty bad but really this place is really not worth the upkeep.
Dean comes in first with the man I saw earlier, Sammy, right behind him. From this distance, I can see that Dean and Sammy both have pale skin and thick builds. They both enter the room sideways at first, making them as small a target as possible, ready in case someone were to attack at any moment. They probably don't even know they do it considering they have me very well strapped down and know I'm not a threat locked down like this. They both walk on the balls of their feet, their bodies tilted forward slightly to allow for fast movement in any direction at a moment's notice. They are through and through fighters. I feel surprisingly less bad about being caught by them. A nice break from the guilt and anger of being caught in the first place but still.
Dean enters farther into the room than Sammy, who stands next to the table by the door. Both of them are wearing plaid, jeans, and some type of faded brown hikers boot. Tough I can't tell the color of Sammy's shirt Dean is wearing red. Possibly apple red. Dean has a square jaw, long lashes, and a spattering of freckles-
Jerking my head back sharply, my eyes refocus.
"Now, that your present princess maybe you can focus.", states a Dean who is inches away from my face.
"Do you try to make out with everyone who ignores you.", I snap back.
An awkward silence settles in the room. Dean quickly sucks his head back in like a turtle drawing his head back into its shell when in danger. He stands up, taking his hands from his knees and takes a step back. Half turning to Sammy, asking nonverbally with a scrunched up face, "Did I just hear that right?". Sammy, appearing equally confused just shrugs. At least I can rest easy in the knowledge that what comes out of my mouth throws everyone off as much as it does me.
Dean seems to pull it together somewhat. His chin nearly touching his chest with how much angry eye he is trying to give me right now.
"Look, Boy Scout now is not the time to be pissing off the people that hold your life in their hands. So. Here's how this is going to go. You're going to answer our questions and if you answer nice and easy, you'll die nice and easy."
My throat goes dry, and the muscles in my back and legs tense and relax vainly. I keep my hands splayed and unmoving on the arms of the chair and try to remain unblinking. Well, hell. This could definitely go better for me.