Fatal Attractions
By Ria
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing in the sandbox.
A/N: Just an FYI. As the story moves on I'm going to be testing out a few supporting OCs (like Lydia in chapter 8). None of them will stick around for too long in this story, but they may pop up in future adventures. The focus will, of course, remain on Sam, Dean, Bobby, and my OC villains.
Beaignu is my awesome beta for this story.
THANK YOU FOR REVIEWS! (Chapter 8 — picked up some new peoples, Woot Woot!)
reannablue, Thegirlwhowaited24601, Souless666, twilotter lover, twerkinformisha, BranchSuper, and SammysDaemon
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Chapter 9: A Light in the Tunnel
Near Baker City, Oregon
Sam opened his eyes hesitantly, slightly afraid of facing what was outside his mind. He was reluctant to refer to it as waking up because he couldn't get any actual rest in his sleep. The nightmares were almost as disheartening as his current reality, but they represented the terrifying possibilities to come. He could still feel the heat against his side, the unwanted contact of the body snuggled against his skin. Sam fought the urge jerk away from Pryor's closeness, not wanting to wake the monster or feel the man's groping hands try to pull him closer.
When Sam had woken yesterday, Pryor was already gone. It was early afternoon, his hands were still bound but no longer clipped to the headboard, and there was a tray of warm soup and half a grilled cheese sandwich on the night stand. Sam had the entire Saturday — at least he assumed it was Saturday, but it was hard to keep track of time in this Hell — to himself, and found his emotions caught in a violent storm where each vortex twisted apart pieces of his soul. One moment, he was soundlessly howling in rage over his inability to escape, and the next he was shedding tears of grief over the likely loss of his brother. The helplessness, embarrassment, depression, and fear had each run their course until he felt incapable of expressing any feelings. This is how Dr. Pryor had found him the night before.
As despondent as Sam was the previous night, he still couldn't help vocally protesting Pryor's advances and ended up gagged again. His hands were, of course, fastened to the bed as a continuing safety measure — Sam had heard the groan of discomfort as the doctor laid down, jostling the injury he sustained the night before at dinner. The youngest Winchester grinned in satisfaction at the pained grunt elicited from Lucas, but too soon, the wandering hands returned to continue their exploration of Sam's skin.
This morning, with the latex ball still in place and his overstretched jaw aching to be closed, Sam was wishing he would have just taken the older man's contact in silence. Hindsight's a bitch, Sam thought glumly as he contemplated his next move. As much as he didn't want to deal with his captor, he really needed the gag removed and a large glass of water to sooth his parched throat.
Sam's physical discomfort eventually won out and he shifted away from the man next to him. As predicted, the beast stirred and stretched before sitting up and throwing back the covers. The older man turned peaceful, loving eyes toward Sam before planting a kiss on his forehead. Sam was disgusted and enraged by the gesture. He hoped the doctor would remove his gag before the nauseousness went away so he could have the opportunity to hurl on the older man. As much joy as that thought created, it still felt like a week and pitiful way to fight back compared to his years of combat training and overwhelming urge to slit the man's throat. Still, the childish response was better than doing nothing; but sadly for Sam, the opportunity never arose.
Luke crawled over Sam and stood with a stretch before heading into the bathroom, making no attempt to hide the tent in his boxers… or keep it from brushing against Sam's abdomen as he passed. Sam averted his eyes in revulsion at the blatant display of arousal, natural as it may be, not surprised that the doctor wouldn't give two shits about showing him any decency or respect.
Pryor showered and emerged about thirty minutes later, prepped for the day. He shuffled up each sleeve slightly as he made his way back to Sam. He removed the gag and lifted a freshly opened bottle of water to the younger man's lips. Sam drank greedily but every few seconds, Luke would pull the bottle back and insist that he slow down and breathe.
Sam glared at the man angrily but was too parched to argue and slowed his pace. He was wondering what today would be like as he watched Pryor's eyes rove over him again. Sam closed his eyes in response, trying to block out the other's presence… which was harder to do now that the older man was speaking to him.
"How did you sleep, Sam?" Luke asked curiously. "Do you normally have nightmares?"
This did get Sam's attention but he kept his eyes shut tight, praying the man would just leave — there was no way he was laying out his inner turmoil to this psycho. Dr. Pryor did the exact opposite from what Sam was hoping and hovered above the younger man while slicing through the tie keeping his arms clamped against the headboard. Sam reacted instinctively once his limbs were freed and scooted himself to the opposite corner of the bed while the doctor seated himself where Sam's legs had just vacated.
Pryor watched with concern as Sam pulled his knees up into his chest and tucked his arms around them, wrists still attached by the ties. He tried again, "You know Sam, I can help with your night terrors. I've researched the subject quite extensively through the years."
Sam let out a sarcastic half-laugh at the revelation, "And I suppose your conclusion was to just gag the person so they can't bother you?"
"That is a temporary solution and it serves other purposes for us at the moment. In all honesty, I'd rather find a cure to the affliction than keep using a Band Aid. If you won't allow me to help with the issue, I don't see any other options."
Sam didn't respond at first, only shrank further into himself. He readjusted his bruised knee — which was feeling considerably better but still a tad sore — and felt the cool surface of the heavy shackle shift around his ankle. "Just leave me the Hell alone." He whispered, hoping Pryor would just disappear.
"Come now, Sam. I know your past. You don't really want to go back out on the road do you? This time you won't even have your brother for company." Sam looked up at Pryor's comment about Dean, a spark of fury lighting his irises as the older man kept talking.
What happened next caught the doctor completely off-guard as Sam lunged forward with unexpected speed, using his bound hands as one large fist. Even though Sam had been confined to the room and an emotional wreck the day before, he had also used the space allotted by the chain to work through several physical therapy exercises and regain some strength in his legs and arms. The blow caught Pryor across the right side of his face, nearly knocking him to the floor.
Pryor, in turn, reacted much faster than Sam expected and caught hold of the chain linking the younger man to the bed frame. He yanked hard and heard the yelp as the kid smacked into the hardwood floor. Luke immediately pinned one arm to the floor at Sam's side — the other arm following in kind thanks to the zip ties.
Sam attempting to twist out of the uncomfortable position — suddenly, strangely worried that the prolonged attachment had melded the skin at his wrists together — when he felt a large hand wrap round his throat and begin to squeeze. The pressure incited panic initially but after several breathless moments, the black spots flickering in his vision took on a calming effect. At least he'd be joining Dean again.
Just as his eyes fluttered closed, the vice grip released its hold and his lungs instinctively took in more air, heaving deep breaths to compensate for every second the oxygen had been denied. Sam was still conscious, but the world was fuzzy and even the smallest movement seemed like it would be too much effort.
Lucas Pryor's form stood tall above him, face still reddened from the rage that had possessed him moments before. As Sam's vision came back into focus, he could tell the older man's face had softened from its hard fury just minutes before. Pryor's loosely clenched fists hung at his sides as he stared down at Sam, seemingly deciding what to do next. After the short hesitation, he turned sharply and walked out of the room without a word or glance back at his captive's prone form. The door slammed behind him followed by a clicking noise from the locking mechanism.
Sam just closed his eyes and concentrated on steadying his breathing.
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"Have you fucked him yet?"
Dr. Pryor glanced up with a distasteful scowl, his concentration broken by Max's crude language. The associate leaned casually against the door frame leading into the doctor's office, arms crossed over his broad chest, awaiting an answer.
Lucas took a moment to refocus on his work and scribble down a few more notes on a patient's form before pushing the papers away. After his stressful morning with Sam's less than cooperative attitude, he had decided to seek solitude in his work and get ahead for the coming week. He leaned back behind his desk and inhaled deeply before responding. "No, we have not been intimate yet. As our previous conversation indicated, I don't intend to push our activities too far until Samuel starts to reciprocate my feelings."
"And as I said last time, waiting won't help with this one. The sooner you do it, the better. He will never reciprocate anything." Max challenged.
"I appreciate your expertise in this particular field, but I'm not going to follow that piece of advice… at least not yet. If I take the physical aspect of our relationship too far too fast, he'll hate and fear me." Pryor commented while as he stood from his plush office chair and moved toward the picture window.
With the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the glass, Max was able to get a good glimpse at the shiner decorating Luke's right eye. He clenched his teeth in anger, wishing he had more control over the situation. At this rate, the kid was going to tear the doctor apart. "He already hates you. That won't change. But if you exert your dominance now, the fear will help break his spirit. He'll quickly come to terms with the arrangement and stop fighting you. That's the desired outcome, right?"
"Eventually, I would like him to accept the lifestyle change. My preferred method is psychological conditioning — the results may take a bit longer to achieve but I want to avoid the fear." Lucas stated before pausing a moment for thought. "Besides, Benjamin accepted his new life within a day or two of arriving."
"Ben was broken several times over before I sold him to you. Compared to what he endured with his previous owners, this was probably his version of heaven. I'm sure he was willing to give anything you desired based on that alone." Max paused a moment to straighten his posture and step further into the room before continuing, "Sam is very different, strong-willed and independent. You can see the stubbornness in his eyes and the physical discipline he's been taught. No doubt the kid's father was military. The way he hurled that fork into your shoulder… that took uncommon skill, especially with his hands bound. Until he learns his place, he's a danger to you and anyone else he comes into contact with here."
"That's part of the allure my friend. He fits perfectly into my collection. Just knowing the power he has, what he is, it's thrilling and I'm going to harness him my way."
Max frowned uncertainly. He wasn't exaggerating when he admitted his concern over the potential danger Sam presented. One slip up and the situation could turn dire for himself or the doc. "Let me do it for you." He offered as an alternate solution. "I'll break him and he won't have to fear you. Hell, he may even look forward to your company once he sees what I'm capable of."
Lucas Pryor had debated on several methods for winning Sam's affection and this was one he hadn't considered. Would he be willing to let this man, his assistant and friend, touch his prized possession? "I will consider your offer. For now, we'll continue as I originally planned."
Max scowled but nodded in support.
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Sioux Falls, South Dakota
Another day of silence passed. Bobby's cable was on the fritz but they were able to confirm the story had gone live the night before through his shaky wireless connection — covertly hijacked from his closest neighbor. The network really had spliced the clip down. The interview had morphed into Lydia doing all the talking, as though the producer was trying to keep the focus off of Bobby completely, which wasn't a total surprise with his gruff appearance. At least Lydia was able to persuade them to leave in a few genuine sentences from the 'parent' — key words that Bobby had specifically requested be aired no matter what else was chopped. Dean was insistent that those be included. If there was even a possibility Sam might see this, he wanted to assure his brother that they would find him.
Dean had left a few minutes prior for a supply run and Bobby was just pondering if he wanted to finish up dishes or go back to organizing his library — a never ending task — when the cell phone on the counter began to chirp.
"Singer."
"Bobby, right?" The male voice replied from across the line.
"Yea… who's this?"
"Gunnar Clark." Bobby recognized the name but hadn't had much contact with its owner in recent years.
"Okay, what'd'ya need?" The older hunter asked quickly, figuring the Texan was just calling for advice on a random hunt. He removed a plate from the dish strainer to place back in the cupboard.
"I got yer message. The one 'bout Indiana."
The plate Bobby was holding slid from his loosened fingers and crashed to the ground, shards sprinkling across the tile. This was the first response they'd had in a week and Bobby took a shaky, deep breath while remembering how to speak.
When the old hunter didn't reply right away, Gunnar decided to continue, "I have some info for ya. May not be relevant, but figured I'd let ya know anyhow."
"Well spill it already." Bobby responded hastily.
"Ever hear a' Bela Talbot? She's in'ta collectin' rare artifacts and hires some 'o us less fortunate hunters — pays decent for our services."
"Yea, I know Bela," Bobby scoffed, "Always out to make a profit. What'd she have you in Indiana for?"
"Well, I didn' take her offer; job description wasn't real tasteful. S'pose she was jist tryin' to involve hunters she knew was more desperate for the cash. Called 'bout two weeks ago with one a them 'to good to be true' type payouts. Wouldn't say much concernin' the details — just that the object we was takin' wouldn't be an it but a who. Prolly wanted commitment before providin' premediated, motives er whatever."
"Premeditated," Bobby corrected still listening intently, a scowl creeping across his tightened brow. He had run into Bela a few times and knew she could be a heartless bitch when it came to getting her prize; but this type of felony was never something he imagined her to be capable of.
"I ain't the straightest man when it comes to makin' a quick buck but nabbin' some poor soul was jist over the line for me."
"You heard anything from her since or have any idea which lackeys she picked up for the job?" Bobby inquired while pulling out his list of hunter contacts.
"Nope."
"Let me know if you hear anything. Think I might know the poor soul she had her goons grab." Singer requested. "Thanks for the info. I owe you one next time we cross paths."
TBC
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Thanks for reading! Please review.
FYI: I have a short attention span so updates may be sporadic depending on where my interest is at that hour… day…. week, etc. I LOVE THIS STORY AND WILL NOT ABANDON IT!
