Chapter 3

You know that panic that you get when you spend the night at your friends and wake up not knowing where you are, then that relief when you remember you're with your friend? Well, imagine that, only the panic doesn't dissolve. That's how I woke up.

I currently have no goddamn clue where I am. Just laying alone on a single bed. The room was bland with no windows. And through all my racing thoughts I wondered if I was underground. Have I been kidnapped? The last thing I remember was the Misha-look-a-like putting two fingers to my head. Did that trio have anything to do with my situation rift now?

Fuck, I've been kidnapped haven't I? Honestly, should I have been expecting any less with the shit day I've had so far?

Shifting my weight to get up, I became painfully aware how sore I was from being knocked on my ass. Ugh, guess I have a nice bruise to remember this day.

The shock of the cold concert under my socked feet made me uncomfortably aware that my shoes were missing. Spotting them by the single door in the room I swiftly grabbed them and decided to put them on. Even though I would be virtually silent without them, I might make a run for it to the outside. And running barefoot would likely slow me down and cause injury. I slowly eased the door open to peek into the hall. Trying to build up my courage to actually leave.

Come on Kyisha, just look around. I took a deep breath and managed to push myself out the door.

My heavy boots made a subtle clomp sound and I found myself wishing I had felt them off. I rounded a corner only to find myself in another hallway with doors lining it. Fuck. Tell me it's not some kinda maze. Swallowing my anxiety, I made it past yet another corner Finding a sliver of hope along with a open door to a kitchen-like area.

The craziest part if all of this is that these halls and rooms seem oddly familiar… I'm going insane aren't I?

The next door lead into a library type room. Shelves with books lining the walls, with several tables in the center. Reading lamps casting soft shadow on four people.

Fuck.

I backed outta there as quickly as I could. No one made any remark and I didn't make direct eye contact. So I'm assuming no one saw me? Why is everything so familiar? But what am I gonna do now?

Run for it? No, I don't think I could out run them long enough to get to the door.

Sneak past them? This isn't the movies, I doubt I'd made it to the stairs without them noticing me.

Both? I could sneak past them to a point, then run like hell up the stairs to the door.

Yeah, sure why the hell not? I mean, I'm probably going to die anyways.

I got down on all fours, creeping my way up to the front. I kept close to the wall, and outta sight from the strangers. Finally, I made it to a smaller shelf perpendicular to the wall. I took advantage of the cover to peak at the space standing in between me and my freedom.

Four men. A massively tall one with long brown hair, one with short dirty blond hair, and two even shorter--in both height and hair wise--brunet men. Wait, were they Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and two Misha Collins?

Yep, that's it. I've officially lost it. Out of all the damn fandoms--Harry Potter, Steven Universe, Marvel, hell even Sherlock--Supernatural broke me. I made it through Darry shipping wars, anguish about sentient space rocks, trolling via comic books, even Jim Moriarty and the Reinbach fall, but not Supernatural. I would love to say it didn't. That it didn't get me even through the queerbaiting, or multiple deaths. Not through sympathizing with Lucifer or love for all of the cannonally gay supporting characters. But nope. That broke me. Misha's tweets and Crowley's sass, and the utter insanity that is the show, broke me.

F u c k .

I took a deep breath. The problem still stood. I needed to get the hell out of here. I didn't know if my broken psyche just perceived my kidnappers as people I admired to try to call me. Or maybe they were just crazy people with some kind of advanced tech to steal the famous actors identity? Either way, I'm making a break for it.

Continuing around the bookshelf I crawled my way closer and closer to the next doorway, where just past that laid a another table and the way out. A flight of stairs to a door. I edged closer and closer, my muscles becoming sore from how unbelievably tense I was. Then I was parallel to the group of men, thanking the Lord that the majority of them, three in all, had their backs to me. And the one facing me (Misha in a trenchcoat? Castiel?) was deep in conversation with the other three. But of course not deep enough to break it and make direct eye contact with me. Those piercing blue eyes of his meeting my chocolate ones.

I froze. Of course I froze. DAMMIT MOVE.

And I finally did. I fucking lept up and sprinted. Past the oak tables. Then the glowing map. Up the metal stairs. And the door.

I rammed my hands on the door handle. It didn't move. I pushed again. Still nothing. Fuckfuckfuckfuc--I heard the clamp of a foot on a metal step. Someone was getting closer. Another dose of adrenaline shot through me and I used all of my force to get the door ajar. It opened. Holy shit thank--I crashed into another body that was on the other side of the door.

I looked back up into green eyes. I staggered backwards completely forgetting that there was only stairs behind me. My foot slipped and felt myself fall. Only to have a hand grab hold of my arm and a startled voice.

"Woah there!" I looked back up. Was it Jensen Ackles? Dean? "Where's the fire?"

I grabbed a hold of the railing trying to shake his grip of me. He let go, I mean I assume. I'm about a hundred and ten pound sopping wet. I really doubt I could shake what? A grown ass man, with at least ninety pounds on me, off.

I shook my head.

"I shouldn't be here." I croaked.

There was a soothing voice behind me. "We know, and I'm so sorry you're in this mess, but leaving would be worse." I turned to see Jared Padalecki.

No, Sam Winchester. I recognized that soft expression. It's his damn puppy dog eyes he uses when talking to victims or people under disrest. It was so full of innocence and sympathy it almost made me sick. And I relaxed slightly.

"I'm sorry, it's just… it's a lot." I looked back up at the man blocking the door. Flannel and jeans. Dean Winchester.

"We should all sit. I'll explain." Came a gruff rumble from behind Sam.

Well, at least I wasn't unconscious.