AN: Sorry for such a long break between chapters once again. I have officially started my first week of classes at college, and so far so good, but it's been interesting trying to find the time to write. Hopefully updates will become more regular once I fall into a routine here. This is definitely not the best chapter I've ever written, so sorry in advance, but I'd like to think that I have some pretty good stuff coming. I hope you enjoy!

Mac was awakened from his restless sleep by the sound of the door opening with a loud screech of metal on metal. The noise only made the pounding in his head worse. He hadn't eaten anything throughout the duration of his captivity, and had been allowed only minimal water. That was likely the reason behind the pain. He looked up at the door and was greeted with the sight of Booth walking down the stairs, followed by a middle aged man in an expensive suit, and Pike. The three men walked towards him, Booth with a scowl, Pike with a smirk, and the other man with a crazed, lusty grin. It reminded Mac of Murdoc, and he had to fight to not shudder under the man's gaze.

"Oh my, my, my. He is quite exquisite, isn't he?" the man said. He had a hint of an accent, maybe French, or something similar. He probably had about ten years on Jack, but appeared to be fit.

"We knew he would fetch a good price. Sorry about the leg, but he tried to escape. He's a crafty little bitch," Booth muttered, still leveling a glare in Mac's direction.

"Do not worry, my new friend. That will not be a problem. If the boy is as intelligent and resourceful as you say, then it is probably for the best that he cannot walk. For my purposes, he does not need to be able to walk," the man said.

Mac's heartbeat shot up even more at those words. With the way that the man was looking at him, and fact that this was black market business, Mac had a pretty good guess at what his "purpose" would be, and it wouldn't be anything good.

"Give me the money and the kid's all yours," Booth said, tearing his glare from Mac and looking at the man, who pulled out his phone.

"The money is being wired to you as we speak," he replied with a grin. "Now, help me with the boy, please."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Mac finally said. He knew he couldn't actually do anything to stop them, but he had to at least put up some token resistance.

"You don't have a choice, you little brat," Pike said as he stalked over to the blond and purposely bumped his knee. Mac gasped in pain and squeezed his eyes shut. Pike just smiled, roughly grabbing Mac's wrists and unlocking the chain from the wall, leaving his wrists only chained together. "Hey, boss," the man continued. "This'll be a lot easier if he's out."

The men all looked at Mac for a moment before Booth turned to the man in the suit.

"Would you mind if we..." he trailed off, motioning to the blond. "He's your property now so really it's your decision." Mac bristled at being called someone's property, but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut for the moment.

"Not at all! But I carry something a bit more civilized than what you might have," the man in the suit said with a sick grin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe. "I thought that maybe it might come to this." Mac started to fight back as much as he could as the man stalked towards him, taking the cap off.

"No!" he yelled, trying to push back against Pike, who was holding him down. The man struck him across the face, eliciting a cry more from surprise than pain. But the hit did its job. It distracted Mac enough for Pike to get a firmer grip on him while Booth knelt next to him and grabbed his head, pulling it to the side to expose the blond's neck. The man with the syringe knelt on Mac's other side, taking his jaw in a grip that would have been gentle in any other situation. Mac tried to pull away, but he knew it was no use. He flinched when the needle went in, and quickly felt his eyelids getting heavier, and heavier, and heavier...

Dean didn't know what to do. He felt terrible for the kid, but there wasn't anything he could do for him. He just wanted to get off Culebra, go to college, and pretend that none of this had ever happened. But his conscience wouldn't let him do nothing. That poor boy was going to suffer at the hands of his new captor, Dean knew that much. The man was an obscenely wealthy foreign businessman living in upstate New York with a penchant for pretty blond boys. The kid fit that description very well. With his leg busted the way it was, it would be damn near impossible for him to escape on his own. Dean has to do something. This was never supposed to happen. That bank manager wasn't even supposed to have gotten shot. They were supposed to go in, get the money, and get out. No hostages, no death, and definitely no kidnapping or human trafficking. It had gone way too far, and Dean would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't do something to help the poor kid.

But what was he supposed to do? No one else shared his sentiments, and they wouldn't hesitate to kill him if they knew what he was thinking. He couldn't help the boy if he were dead.

Dean reached into his pocket, fingering the kid's Swiss Army Knife. He wished there was a way to get it back to him, but he couldn't think of anything. Dean vowed to himself that he would hold onto that knife until he could give it back to its rightful owner. Somehow, someway, he would get it back to the kid - he still didn't even know the kid's name.

The man was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming up the basements stairs. He turned his head and saw Booth and Pike come up, followed by Lawrence Phelps, the wealthy man who bought the blond - Dean had to fight to keep himself from shuddering at the thought. Phelps held the kid in his arms in a way that would have been gentle, but instead looked possessive. The kid was passed out, but even in his sleep, he still looked to be in pain. Dean wasn't surprised. Unless given real medical attention soon, the boy's leg would probably never be the same. He didn't deserve that. The boy had only been trying to help those people in the bank, and now he was in this mess. He didn't deserve this at all. Dean couldn't stop himself from shaking his head in dismay.

"What?" Pike asked in an accusatory tone, narrowing his eyes at Dean.

"Nothin'," he quickly replied, a little too quickly. He needed to cover himself. "It's just what Ash did, wrecking the kid's leg. That's all," he said with a shrug.

Pike gave him another long look, but didn't say anything. Booth was too busy talking with Phelps to be bothered. He got up and followed them from a distance when the men walked outside, towards the seaplane. Dean watched in dismay as Phelps lifted the blond into the plane and tied his already bound hands to one of the seats. The sea breeze was light and pleasant, but it did nothing to erase the heavy weight in Dean's chest as he stood there, doing nothing, while Phelps and Booth shook hands. What was he to do? What could he possibly do to help the boy? Maybe he was just too slow or too stupid to think of something to do while the boy was still on the island, but he would be damned if he didn't spend every second of the rest of his life trying to undo his mistake. He would find a way to save the boy from his heinous fate, no matter what.

Several hours later, Dean found himself packing the few belongings he had with him, as well as his share of the two million dollars they'd stolen from the bank - his minimal guilt over that was absolutely nothing compared his guilt over the kid. He, along with the rest of the crew, would be leaving Culebra soon to blend back into society with their ill gotten gains. Dean still planned on putting himself through school if at all possible, but he didn't know what the rest of them were doing. The money from the sale of the boy had been wired to one of Booth's accounts, and that money would soon be split up among the four of them as well. It was a sizable amount. Phelps had been willing to pay nearly anything for the boy. It was disgusting.

Now, all Dean could think about was how to alert the proper authorities without getting himself arrested in the process. Despite the fact that he most certainly deserved to go to prison for a very long time, he really didn't want to. He would much rather go to college and get a degree, do something with his life. So how would he do it? There was no way his conscience would let him just keep going on with his life without helping the kid in some way. Based on the look on the face of the man who had shot at them back at the marina, the kid had a family who would want him back.

He was suddenly brought back to the present by the sound of someone shouting his name. The man quickly ran outside, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight in front of him. Phillip was lying on the beach, blood surrounding him. He looked dead. Booth and Pike were trying to take cover, and Pike had a lot of blood coming from his arm.

Dean took cover, but peaked out at the assailants. They looked like SWAT guys, but wait, one of them looked familiar. It was the man from the marina! Dean couldn't stop the smile from creeping into his face. If he could just stay alive, he could help the man find the kid.

"Where's your gun?!" Booth shouted at him. Dean just completely ignored him. They were significantly outnumbered and outgunned, so even if he had been planning on fighting back, it wouldn't have been any use. He just tried to hide himself from the shots, and waited. Several more shouts of pain came from Booth and Pike, and the gunshots became less and less, until finally, there were none. Dean slowly uncovered himself and raised his hands high above his head, showing that he wasn't a threat. He looked over at Booth and Pike, who were both on the ground with SWAT guys on top of them, cuffing their hands behind their backs.

"I can help you," Dean said, putting up no resistance as one of the SWAT men took his hands and cuffed them. "Please let me help you."

"Mac!" the man from the marina shouted as he ran into the house, his gun still drawn as he cleared the first room. He didn't know that the kid - Mac - was already gone. Dean didn't relish what would happen to the crew when the man found out. But for now, all he could do was wait. Help may have arrived too late to save the boy from being taken by Phelps, but at least Dean could help them get him back.