Chapter Twenty Six:
Spotlights on Stage
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Dean had no idea how much time he'd spent in the storage room with the other beings but it still felt too soon when the doors burst open and there was a group of those werewolf troll things coming in and moving tanks around.
Dean scrambled to his feet, tripping over the cardboard pellets as he got closer to the front of his fish tank to view the sudden activity. Each of the giant furry creatures was talking to another, jotting down notes regarding all of the things in the room. Dean tried to look past them as a couple stood in front of his tank but he still didn't spot Castiel anywhere. His heart beat harder. Cas was not going up for auction like he thought, and now Dean was about to be sold off for God knows why. To be a pet? A slave? A toy? Or something for his new owners to torture for fun. Or maybe something simpler then all that. Maybe his future buyer wanted to simply eat something exotic and rare.
If Dean can't get back into his soul form and get the fuck out of here, he's going to be so damned screwed.
He backed up from the front of his tank when one of the creatures he recognized from before came up to it. It wasn't Arg, or even Not Arg, but one of the remaining two that he'd seen deciding his fate back in Arg's office. This one was distinguished by a bejeweled eye patch, so, 'Patches' it is.
A multi-jointed clawed hand curled inward and knocked on the outside of the tank, Dean peered up past the lid to a smirking face far above him. He couldn't help but take a few wary steps back from the giant thing. He's not exactly used to being this small yet. He'd only been this way for a few damned days, and even then it was in good company, for the most part. Seeing monstrously deformed titans that were intent on selling him for profit didn't exactly endear Dean in the least. They were big and scary and their motives with him were always confusing or unsettling. He wasn't human, or even something to be regarded with respect in their eyes. Just something they could sell for a quick buck. Dean wasn't sure if they'd treat him any better if he came clean and said he was actually a human, or had been human... They might even treat him worse if they found out, so he kept his mouth shut as the fingers uncurled outside of his tank and the remnants of the knocking vibrations faded away.
His head still rang from the throbbing percussion's. Sure that his ears would have at least popped if not bled from the intensity, if were a normal, but shrunken, human.
It growled something at him, or maybe about him. Dean cocked his head to the side to try and decipher the grunts but came up short. Before he could brace himself, the huge clawed hands pressed against the opposite sides and the tank was lifted up off of the table without preamble. Dean fell on his ass and stayed there from the force of the swift upward movement. The tank was lifted high up to its eye level with ease and turned this way and that to view Dean better. Dean's hands splayed out to both sides to keep himself from falling over even more. The cardboard pebbles tumbling around from the abrupt shifts the tank made.
It growled again and that smarmy smile was plastered on that long maw the whole time. Dean didn't even bother trying to stand again, feeling the ground shifting uncontrollably underneath him. Finally, Patches lowered him down to hip level and Dean felt the jump in the ground when the tank was firmly planted onto the jutting animalistic hip. Dean saw the arm on that side curl around his tank more securely and the light was dimmed dramatically from Patches' black cloak that opened then closed partially around the tank. The giant adjusted its fingers unconsciously and Dean tried to see past the arm, coat, and hand to where he was being taken. Patches carted his tank out of the room, following behind three other werewolf trolls, all with tanks of their own. Arg was carrying a tank filled with slugs, Not Arg was carrying something that looked like a con-worm, and the last one was too far ahead of patches to see what he was hauling.
All the while, the werewolf trolls were growling and chuffing with good nature with each other while Dean and the other captives were freaking out. At least the ones sentient enough to understand what was going to happen to them.
This was it.
Dean tried to keep himself somewhat upright as he sat on the floor of the swaying tank but kept on falling to the sides with each thundering step the legs that trailed below made. He couldn't get a good look down the hall, but heard a few other giants in a room ahead, calling out orders or curses, Dean didn't know which.
The brightness of the new room hit him square in the eyes when Patches finally shifted the tank in front of himself and the coat was pulled back away. Dean blinked owlishly to try and see again. All the while his tank was bouncing along in front of the monster now instead of off to its side.
His eyesight cleared when he saw a very long table with a nice white tablecloth draped over it. It looked as large as a skyscraper on its side to him. There were already a few other cages present that sat on the floor that would be too big for the table. The other three giants set down the tanks they'd brought in on the table and another creature came in to adjust them once the werewolf trolls left for more tanks.
This new thing was more human-ish looking but had moth wings fluttering behind it. Dean guessed it was female but it was so androgynous he couldn't quite tell. His tank was set down on the end farthest from it and he watched as the moth thing unlatched and reached into the first one. Trilling something indecipherable at the slugs and the condition they were in. Moth man reached down for a bucket of soapy water and was cleaning out the inside and outsides of the tank and making universally known annoyed sounds at the work it had to do to make it presentable.
Dean got to his feet and inched over to the front of his tank again, watching as a few other humanoid things cleaned this and that and a whole slew of them were setting up chairs aiming at a kind of stage with a few podiums and tables on it. There was already a tall glass chamber up on stage that held a hissing vampire in it, and at the main podium, was what looked like a long dead business man going over his speech notes. Large speakers were adjusted at the corners of the stage and spotlights were set up to face whatever was going to be brought up and auctioned off. Apparently, the vamp was just there so they could get the lighting just right before the show.
A few patrons arrived early to wait for the auction to start inside. Talking amiably with each other. Half of them appeared human enough, and it wouldn't surprise Dean in the least if they were. Albertus Magnus came to mind and Dean spat to his side. He avoided becoming a museum piece for that freaks collection, only to wind up here in this place. A dump being polished well enough to shine. Good enough for the ones who came to buy.
Dean shivered at the sight of a few of them fidgeting in their seats, looking over at the tanks and the other chained up and drugged creatures that Dean had seen from the storage room. A long line of iron rings were embedded into the wall about 8 feet above ground, and fairly close to the stage. This is where a number of creatures were being chained up by their wrists or what counts for wrists. Their own labels were being sorted and placed beyond their reach in front of each 'exhibit'.
Then a few barred cages came in, a few exotic animals that must have been stored elsewhere. Dean saw one of them held a fairly large house cat in it. Black and gray stripped and overall it looked like a normal cat. Dean was about to ask himself why the hell it was there alongside the exotic animals, because it sure wasn't here for the creature auction, when it started to speak perfect English at the occupant of another cage nearby.
Dean walked to the very edge of his tank, and just barely made out the sight of some kind of medium spotted jungle cat with ears as tall as he is on its head in a larger cage. Dean squinted and made out both of the labels. The stripped house cat was some kind of house cat/human Shapeshifter named 'Edward', and the other was a Sevannah that spoke English and named 'Jack'. Dean couldn't hear much of their conversation but the way the two cats were talking to each other made it seem like they were related somehow. Muttered words of comfort and reassurances. Dean did make out 'Edward' saying, "Just don't talk at all when you're up there. You'll seem like a normal cat to them, not worth a lot of money. They already got me on tape shifting, but they can't prove that you can talk yet. Albert can buy you and and then me and bring us back safe, back home."
"Ed, I'm scared, man." Jack whispered and Dean had trouble hearing it from where he was but knew it was the spotted one by the long whiskers bobbing along with the words.
"I know. Just, trust me, brother." Ed reassured.
Dean knew there was a long story there but before he could hear much more, both cats went silent again as the spotted one was taken over to the other wild cats.
A new cage was brought over and set down that looked like a bird cage but it had a tiny little dragon in it. Its brown camouflaged scales made it blend in with the wooden branches inside, and it kept on chirping at everyone around it. The little guy had bat like wings and looked just like a damned medieval dragon but only 6 inches tall. The label on the side said it's name was 'Dane' and that it was a Drauglin. Whatever that is. Drauglin might be the name for a petite dragon.
Dean felt bad for the little guy as it gnawed on the bars of it's cage and hissed at the werewolf trolls whenever they passed by. Smart lil bastard knew who it could trust and who it couldn't as it went back to pleading to the other captive things for some help. Dean didn't have to speak tiny dragon to see it was distressed as hell. He hoped it would go to someone kind. Like all of these poor things.
The shrunken Hunter found himself wishing that these sad creatures would have a chance at being bought by someone that gave a shit about them, or hopefully escaping their fate, almost more then he had for himself. From what he gathered, he'd actually lived a good life compared to a lot of these poor guys. Not for the first or last time, Dean tried to turn into his soul self again. If he could just do that, he could get out of the damned tank he was in and maybe set fire to the stage or something. Go get help if nothing else. He knows that Cas would be able to do a lot of damage if he was set loose in here. Especially if his angel was powered up with his soul booster energy blast. Nuke all the baddies and save the bitties.
Wishful thinking, but he doesn't want to just give up.
Conversations were going on all around him and he could only make out a few English words here and there amid the organized chaos. The buyers walked along the roped path that ran parallel to the chained things and began inspecting the 'merchandise'. Arg was there to make sure that they didn't get too handsy with the auction items. Dean was watching so intently to the other side of the room he jumped when his own tank's lid was unlatched and lifted.
Dean stumbled away from the slender hand that was reaching in, plastering himself against a corner and sinking down as it swiftly lifted up his cardboard hut and turned it upside down. Seeing his hut that's comparable to a king sized bed being maneuvered so easily, he gulped at the fresh reminder that he's just a small animal to them. The moth thing didn't bother addressing him or even acknowledging his presence or awareness of what's happening. It made him feel a little pissed off if he's honest with himself. Dean wasn't sure which was worse, being ignored like this, or having a dangerous gigantic monster's attention.
It gathered up the wet cardboard chunks and threw the bits inside the upturned hut, using it's slender hand to sweep up as many of the bits as possible into a pile to be scooped up. Then the hut was taken out of there and the hand returned for more of his cardboard bedding. Wet and dry pieces alike. Dean caught on quickly that it wasn't really interested in him, just removing the other things in the tank. So when it took out another overflowing handful, he bolted to the other side of the tank to be clear of the hand's destination when it returned. He waited and watched it dive back in and remove the pieces he'd been sitting on as predicted. He's not sure he wanted to know what would happen if he didn't move out of the way.
His food dish was pulled out next and set off to the side on the table in front of his tank. The moth thing then retreated from the table to soak and wring out the rag it had been using in the soapy water. He couldn't see the bucket but knew that it must be pretty rank by now. Dean watched it clean up the outside of his glass prison first, but then its other hand dove in and quickly wrapped around his startled body.
Dean fought against the grip but it squeezed a warning at him the instant he was taken out. A dirty scowl on the moth thing's face cowed him into submission for just a moment before he remembered that he is Dean fuckin Winchester and he doesn't let monsters win without a fight so he began punching the fingers around his chest, even if it was hopeless. Part of his mind was grateful that at least this monster's fingers were far cleaner and daintier then the others, even if they were just as strong and unyielding.
His colorful curses fell on deaf ears as the other huge slender hand continued its cleaning spree of his tank. Dean felt the air in his lungs squeeze out of him one more time before he was brought over to the open lid again. Apparently, getting mothra's attention wasn't worth the few seconds of pride he had in himself, when all it got him was bruised ribs.
The hand tilted just enough for him to look down at the twenty some foot drop to the now hard and bare floor of his tank. The minuscule man only had time to gasp in shock as the fingers abruptly opened around him and he plummeted to the unforgivably hard glass floor. Falling on his side and groaning in pain.
The moth winged thing smirked at him for a few seconds, as if amused by his antics, before it refilled his food dish and set it daintily inside next to the thick water spout from the hamster waterer. It took one last look around before closing and locking up the tank again. There was nothing else in there and it smelled of detergent and whatever else that rag had cleaned before coming to his tank. So, slug slime and con-worm poop. Awesome.
Dean shuffled back to the far corner again. Half hidden behind the food dish that was about the size of a coffee table to him. One look in confirmed that it was more berries and peanuts. With nothing else to do, he opened up one of the cherries and threw the pit at the wall opposite before eating. The hunter in him knew not to waste an opportunity to power up. Gain any advantage that he can before the shit hits the fan. Who knows when he will get any food again. So he ate and tried to figure out what everyone was saying.
He was becoming less and less enthused at watching the monsters set up the auction hall. The clock on the wall said ten till noon before the dead looking guy that had been going over his notes behind the podium said a few things in one growled language at the audience, then again in a strangely accented English. Like he'd learned it from watching terrible old gangster movies. Hell, maybe he's a zombie and that's how he spoke when he was alive.
"We wish to welcome you to check out the items at this point. You have forty minutes before the auction starts at which point you must be in your designated seats. And as always, no touching, cursing, spell casting or enchanting of any items until the auction ends and you are deemed the winner of that item. Any infractions or breaking of the rules as stated or written, is to be dealt with by the Great Qersky at her discretion."
The head dead guy then leaned forward as if conspiratorially, with a gleam in his eye that even Dean could see from a room away, said, "Offenders might even end up as a future item, as is the case for item number 42." And with a flourishing wave of his hand, all eyes went to a figure that was trussed up by it's ankles and gagged with an apple.
A polite chuckle rose from the audience at the predictable and repeated joke, as they stood and stretched from their seats. The wave of buyers that came over to his table scared the shit out of Dean who had nothing really to hide behind. Some beings cooed at him, others spoke demands in languages that he never heard of. All trying to get him to move and show the buyers a new angle to his body.
He lifted up a middle finger at the lot of them and got a few amused snorts and others a sound of indignant protest. An argument arose between two buyers and was settled when Not Arg came over and yell/howled at them into submission.
Not Arg suddenly spoke English and Dean's head turned upwards at the understood words, "It is labeled as an Imp. A male that had lost its tail and is being auctioned off 'as is'."
More growls and chirps from the small group that towered over Dean's tank. Nearly all pointing fingers at him.
"No, we are not able to just stitch on a new tail." Not Arg said to one that pouted at him, to another, "Yes, his magic is gone, and no his clothes can't be removed." More indignant squawks had Not Arg sighing in frustration for a half second before responding with, "Of course we tried. You're more than welcome to give it a shot, AFTER you win him. Not before."
A clawed hand rose to silence further protest. "As is!" Not Arg bellowed and got even more attention from those checking out the other tanks. "All of our items are labeled 'as is'. This is the same today as it was yesterday and will be tomorrow. Have a problem? Take it up with the Great Qersky." He said knowingly and raised a furry eyebrow.
Not Arg continued on once he got them under control again. "For an Imp of this age and intelligence, it is still of great value. Nearly all of the Imps we had gotten in the past were feral and quite frankly, emaciated from lack of human souls to feed on. If you have another Imp in your possession, I recommend breeding them to help replenish the Imp population. They are a dying species and this one is still a find." Not Arg saw that he now had a small audience of his own as more buyers heard and came over. His toothy grin spread out and Dean's worry escalated.
Dean had totally forgotten what an Imp's favorite meal was, and if he was in the presence of a real Imp, he'd likely be found out for being just a human soul and eaten whole. Awesome.
The lid was lifted up and the clawed hand dipped down in, snagging him easily into a tight dirty fist.
"Fuck." Dean muttered, eyes wide as he was once again lifted up and out, put on display in front of at least ten giant monsters. His feet were angled upwards to show off whatever was written there before and he could just barely see over the curled fingers that gripped his whole body at the buyers nod of approval. He still hadn't a clue what the hell it was supposed to mean.
The lid below him was closed and he was turned right side up again, and dropped onto it, stumbling a little to stay upright. Dean's throat bobbed from nerves as they leaned in to take a closer look. This time, there was no protective glass surrounding him, and any one of these Eldrich terrors could snag him up in their fists or claws or pincers and take off with him to God knows where. The only thing keeping him safe at the moment, was, ironically, Not Arg standing behind him. The furred body towered over all of the potential buyers. Dean was safe so long as his prison guard stood within reach. It was so cruel. He was free of the tank but completely unable to run for it with so many watching his every move.
A few things growled and chirped at Not Arg who answered in growls. Two claws came over and lifted up his left arm between them, wiggling it back and forth and in every position Dean had. Ignoring his yelps of pain and protest.
One of the giants pushed her way closer and gasped at the first clear sight of him. Dean's gaze shot right to her and she pointed a long trembling finger at him.
"Winchester!" She shrieked and backed up into the ones that had filled in the space behind her.
A few confused voices sounded out around him and even more were asking her to clarify what she was talking about.
"That's a Winchester! That isn't any Imp!"
"What is this, 'Winchester'?" Another asked, holding a calming hand on her elbow.
"They are powerful hunters! Deity killers! Where there is one, the other is sure to follow and kill anything that stands between!" She was near hysterical, but held in place from the crowd that gathered tighter in. Drawn in by the drama.
Not Arg looked down at Dean who was at a complete loss for how to use this to his advantage.
Debating if he should try and dispute it or go with it.
"I've heard of Winchester." Another thing that was probably male, mused. He? was not very tall, but appeared very powerful under that three piece suit. The being appeared human but had an aura of otherness that had Dean's hair rise on the back of his neck. He forced himself not to react and only just barely managed to appear calm and collected as the shit hit the fan.
Their loud group gained the attention of nearly everyone present. Even the zombie auctioneer came down from the stage at the commotion. The man was urged to go on. "Winchester's are god killers. You may have wondered where a few went. Calliope? Chronos? They aren't limited to just Greek gods, the Vanir, Veritas, Cacao, Leshii, Moloch and too many more. Even, the mother of all monsters, Eve. Though, that is unconfirmed as there were no witnesses left alive." It furrowed its brow down at Dean, almost asking if it were true without coming out and demanding an answer.
It went on when Dean stayed silent, not confirming or denying the death of the gods. It was as good an answer as any. "They are angel vessels of the highest order. Archangel vessels. I would bet they heal better then regular humans, but they are... or were... humans. I don't know what it is now. I also don't know which one this is. I heard they travel together. I have never seen them in person myself. Not few who have had lived to give any kind of description. But the name. The name is infamous." It nodded to itself. He then turned to look at Not Arg in the eyes. An imploring tone of voice of one that's seen too much death. "If I were you, son, I'd put it back where you found it and hope its kin doesn't find you first." Then it actually addressed Dean next, "I have no problem with you or your kin. Please forgive my presence here, I wont return." and nodded one last time before he turned and gently pushed his way past the crowd who also started to back up to give the thing room.
Just the fact that Dean was being spoken to directly as not just an equal but as if he had any power right now, was changing the minds of nearly everyone there. Debating in their minds if they should even place a bid, or run for the hills. Murmuring turned into growls and arguments among themselves. Dean's head hurt from the booming voices overhead.
An elegantly dressed woman with beautifully sculpted features spoke up, "I never knew the name of the hunters. But I too have heard of them. Their loyalty to each other knows no boundaries. Not even death itself. Even if this tiny hunter doesn't find a way to kill whoever buys him, then he's got kin out there that would burn the world down trying to find him and torture anyone that touches him. It's nearly happened before. I don't know about you, but I don't want to risk it." as she backed away too, Dean found himself actually leaning forward towards her despite her massive stature to him. She was very pretty and only after she left his sight, did he realize she was probably a siren. He shook his head to clear it and peered briefly up at his captor for an idea of what's going to happen now.
Not Arg was at a total loss. Jaw working soundlessly at the turn of events. Many buyers were shaking their heads at Dean, hands lifted as a peace offering before moving back entirely, or at least towards the other tanks.
Not Arg was surprisingly hesitant to get any closer to Dean as well. Starting to believe all that was being said around them. "Is it true?" He said softly once the main bulk of crowd had left them alone.
Dean turned around and from where he stood, his eye level wasn't even at the werewolf troll's navel. He tilted his head back to see the long muzzle and questioning eyes, and the sight nearly gave him vertigo. He couldn't bring himself to out himself just yet. Unsure how that would ultimately play out. "What do you think?"
Not Arg's brow furrowed and he barked out something to Arg who had been speaking with the auctioneer. He came over after finishing up and glowered down at Dean.
"Where did you find this Imp?" Not Arg asked and it was clear from the expression that Arg had heard that question a lot in just the past few minutes.
His hands lifted to his sides. "It was in with the half dead angel they'd brought in."
"Who? Who brought in?"
"Halseff's men."
"Halseff? That crook? You know how the Great Qersky despises unreliable sources!" Not Arg snarled.
"What do you want? It was an easy buy." Arg defended and peered at Dean again. Eyes searching every one of his few inches for some hint as to what he really was. "Besides, I needed the boost in grace that it gave me to keep up my spells. Without which, all of these items could turn on us in a heartbeat." Arg was getting testy, foaming at the mouth and Dean found himself backing up towards Not Arg before his foot slipped off the edge of the tank and he pushed himself forward to keep his body on top. He did not want to fall 20 feet down again.
Both shot their attention to Dean as he got to his hands and knees again, and Arg wrapped his hand around the squirming body. Dean was brought up to Arg's face and he saw that the eyes were starting to glow a familiar shade of blue. Dean gasped when he realized that it had meant Cas's grace. It actually stole Cas's grace!
"What are you?" Arg was pissed and Dean was squeezed tight, barely able to breathe and think straight.
"I – I told y-you." He gasped out. "I'm Halen. I'm just an Imp!"
"That. Is a lie." Arg's fangs started to drip. The hunter couldn't help but notice that that frothing mouth was big enough for Dean to walk right in.
"I -I can't... I can't -" Dean was turning blue from the strain and Arg finally loosened the grip a little. He took several deep breaths and pushed feebly against the claws that were already piercing his skin. "If I said." Dean coughed hard, trying to get his throat working again. "If I said I was a Winchester, what would you do to me?"
Arg's glowing blue eyes shifted back to their usual red hue and he squinted hard at Dean. A long moment passed when the buzzer sounded off overhead. The auction was going to start in a few minutes. Arg turned towards his colleague. "Put him up. Maybe someone will buy him for revenge and we will be rid of this mess."
Dean's heart dropped. Fuck. Dean still didn't see Cas anywhere and now he's probably going to be killed the minute he's sold, and Cas wont have any chance in hell of being saved from here. Cas's grace will be siphoned off by this monster and if he doesn't die from that, then he's gonna be human, utterly useless in their eyes and probably end up eaten later. Most humans are nothing more than food to monsters.
The claws wrapped around him lowered him back into the tank and he was dropped to his side from only a couple inches above ground versus the long fall he'd had earlier. The hand retreating just a bit faster then any before, as if the 4 inch tall man was somehow able to scramble up the hand and arm like a spider monkey to escape.
Dean got to his feet and ran for the nearest wall facing the retreating giants. He had no other choice than to bluff. He resorted to punching the glass and shouting, "You should listen to what that dude said! You should just release me, so my brother wont come and kill you all!" He got a dismissive hand gesture in return. "What he said was true! We've killed dozens of gods! Thousands of monsters! Demons and even Angels! You think you have what it takes to go up against my family?! We. Will. Burn. And. Bury. You." Dean's chest puffed up, remembering all those famous hunts of theirs. He earned that feared respect from these b-rated monsters. Earned his title as killer of all things evil.
A few buyers were hanging around till the very last, a desire to own this spunky little thing, despite the claims and the unproved evidence. A few saying that those two that bowed out of the bidding for him were plants sent in to lower the price for others. That they wont be fooled into thinking a tiny human has any power at all over them.
Soon, more and more were glancing at him inside the tank with pure greed. Much the same way that they others were looking at the captured lions and predators in the exotic animal side of the auction. They heard the warnings and it only made them want Dean more. To own something dangerous and equally famous.
Dean shouted death threats as loud as he could but heard his voice echo back to him more then it got out beyond the glass. "I'll fucking kill anyone that even thinks of buying me! Look up my name! Dean Winchester, angel and demon hunter extraordinaire! I've kill monsters my whole life and if you think you even have a chance at killing me then you haven't read up on your history! I may die but I don't fucking stay dead and I always win in the end!" He cursed and shouted but all the buyers were already across the room. The auction was starting.
Dean was frustrated beyond belief. He had to watch as one by one, each of those harmless creatures were sold off to the highest bidder. He only caught a few of the buyers glance his way. Most looked apprehensive and unwilling to bid on the other items. The shoppers spirit wasn't in it anymore. It infuriated the auctioneer who tried to muster up the same energy the room had before the little discovery of item 180's true identity.
Dean was forced to listen and watch as each being was sold and carted off past another door to wait for the winners to pay and claim their prize. That spotted jungle cat named Jack, of the two talking cats, was bought first. And going by the look on its furry face, he was won by the right guy. But Dean didn't have a chance to celebrate for them when he saw that the other stripped one named Ed was won by someone else after the one that won Jack's auction ran out of money. They would be separated and it didn't look like Ed was taking it very well. At least he'll get to say goodbye to Jack in that other room before they split up for good.
The teacup dragon was sold for less then the others, and he thought that it should have been more because it was a fuckin' bad ass looking dragon. Catching himself thinking those kinds of thoughts, Dean cursed himself out. These were intelligent beings. With their own lives and emotions that were being disregarded. They're not some cattle to be sold. But, here they are.
Dean was one of the last ones up, it was clear that he was intended to be the first but they'd skipped over his tank for the one next in line on the table. Coming back to him when the crowd had regained its former enthusiasm.
Really, the auctioneers and the others in charge were debating the whole time on what to do with him. Arg apparently convinced them to sell him just to get rid of him faster and make a quick buck. Stating in English near Dean's tank, that if the tiny human had the power to kill, he would have done it already. A dozen times so far. Asking the others why he was waiting to strike and making a very valid point that Dean couldn't even open a clenched fist.
His tank was lifted up at last, and carried to the stage. The clawed hands belonged to Arg himself as he was set down onto the podium and the auctioneer grinned at the audience. The lights overhead were almost too bright for him to see anything. Especially when additional lights were adjusted towards his tank for maximum illumination. Dean's sure if he bothered to look, he'd be able to see the bones inside his hands and arms with how bright the stage lights were.
Dean tore his eyes away from them to look out at the varied audience. Blinking a few times to get his retina's from showing nothing but bouncing black orbs in his vision. Only a few looked reluctant to be there, the vast majority, however, was ready to bid. Numbered cards held in anticipation.
"Fuckin Fuck-Fuck." Dean muttered. His hands were on the glass in front of himself. His voice sore from shouting so much. He inhaled deeply to make one last loud call before they got started. "Make no mistake, Assholes. Whoever buys me, will die bloody."
The auctioneer started to chuckle, lifting his skin and bone hands to urge the rest in laughing too, pleased that they followed along in the jeers before he eventually raised his hand to stop them again.
"We will start the bidding at one ton of Dwarvish gold for the chance of owning or killing a famous Winchester." The sparkle in his eyes shown almost brighter then the spotlights trained on Dean's helpless form as he peered down to the captured human at his side. "Who will start the bidding?"