He near fell flat on his back from the power of Samantha's throw and the beer bottle that he dropped when trying not to fall, shattered to pieces. He blinked a few times to regain his vision and questioned in a hurt tone, "What was that for?!"
Then teen girl widened her eyes at him in surprise and raised her voice, "What do you mean 'what was that for,' you kidnapped me and chained me to a bed; serves you right for getting hit in the face, you freaking moose."
Sam opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it and instead put his arm between his legs to bring the wooden stool forward. It was an arm's length away from the bed when he set himself down upon it again. He lent forward, resting his arms on his knees and spoke in a hushed but stern tone. "Do it again, and you might get shot. Not a salt round either."
Samantha clenched her teeth and looked him in the eyes. He wasn't joking. She pulled herself forward as far as possible, her right arm stretched along the bed connected by a hunk of metal, and provoked her captor, "Dare me?"
His eyes bore into her and, within a fleeting moment, leapt forward and pushed her back; clasping her left arm above her head and pressed his weight against her so she couldn't move. Both their heart-rates increased as Sam towered over the girl. She felt adrenaline seeping into her bloodstream and saw Sam's muscular chest rise and fall quicker above her breasts. He pushed down closer until their noses nearly touched. His lips parted, "Yeah… I dare you."
He lifted himself off of her and took a large step back. When she sat back up and regained her composure, he asked, "So… Do you remember anything?"
Samantha was not impressed with this guy, a little annoyed, in fact. But before she could answer, there was another man in a trench coat staring at her. She couldn't recall him standing there before and didn't hear him enter the room, which was strange because he didn't exactly blend in. Sam moved his head and sighed, "What'd you want, Cas?"
"Dean and I heard an alarming sound indicating that something was broken. Dean told me it was nothing but I was worried about the safety of the hostage." He replied, his voice gruff and strangely logical.
"Everything's fine. I just, broke a bottle." Sam replied, shifting his head to look back at Samantha.
Samantha looked from Castiel to Sam, and then back again, confused and a little terrified. This man's outfit was a little chaotic. Messed hair, messed suit, messed eyes. He accidently glanced down and Samantha recalled she wasn't wearing her shorts. She immediately blushed and looked down to her pile of books so she could hide her face. Castiel alternated between looking at Sam and Samantha while he questioned, "Where you, umm, in the middle of something private?"
