Chapter Three

Dean let out a low moan as he slowly came back to consciousness. His head felt like several tiny dwarves had beaten it repeatedly with tiny hammers. Went a little heavy on the drinks he thought to himself, groaning again as he brought his hands up to his pounding head.

Or rather, as he tried to bring his hands up. His hands didn't seem to want to respond. Make that REALLY heavy on the drinks. He started to silently upbraid himself for going too far when he realized that it wasn't a hangover that was making his hands unresponsive.

He quickly blinked his eyes open, squinting down at his hands in the too dim light. They were twisted tightly together with zip-ties. He tugged roughly at the bindings, testing their strength. They held strongly, strongly enough that he felt bruises already forming on his wrists.

Awesome he thought. Either I've found some really messed-up, kinky chick, or I'm in deep trouble. Moving his eyes from his bound wrists, he took in the rest of his surroundings. Or at least, what he could see. He lay on a hard concrete floor facing an equally hard concrete wall. I'm thinking either this chick needs a better room, or it's the latter. He tried to sit up and see where he was.

His head spun at the sudden motion, and he instinctively tried to bring a tied hand up to his head. Right, cuffs he thought as he felt the zip-tie roughly break through the skin at the unwanted movement. He shifted into a sitting position and rested his head against the wall, groaning as other sore muscles protested the action.

The room was relatively small, with dirty gray walls and a single bare bulb in the middle of the ceiling. There were no windows or doors. The only entrance into the room was a metal hatch in the ceiling against the far wall. From the stale, earthy smell in the air, Dean guessed he was somewhere underground. Bound wrists, sore head, strange room. This just keeps getting better and better. Dean sighed.

He shivered slightly when he realized that he could see his breath forming on the air. It was cold in the room. Really cold. And some jackass had taken his jacket. Great. Something else to worry about.

Dean looked more closely at the room. There was a chair in one corner, and several hooks and chains hanging low from the ceiling. A few hooks were attached to the walls as well. Dean froze as his roaming eyes landed on a slumped form huddled against the opposite wall.

"Sammy!" Dean called out. There was no response.

Panicking slightly, Dean looked more closely at the person lying on the floor and realized that it was too small to be his Sasquatch brother. And too feminine. With a jerk, Dean realized who it was.

"Jo!"

Memory flooded back as he suddenly remembered what happened. That bitch had played at damsel in distress to lure them to a vulnerable position then jumped them from behind. He crawled over to Jo as quickly as he could with his pounding head and bound wrists. His stomach and back throbbed with the movement, reminding him of the beaten he'd taken before getting drugged.

"Jo?" Dean asked again, more quietly as he finally reached her body and put a hand gently on her shoulder. She moaned slightly as he rolled her over. Her wrists were also bound with zip-ties, only her hands were trapped behind her back. Jo's eyelids fluttered slightly as Dean spoke to her again.

"Hey, Jo? Can you hear me? Come on, wake up. We've got a situation, and as I sure as hell ain't dealing with it alone." Jo didn't respond.

"Come on, princess, wake up. Got to make sure you're ok." Still no response.

Remembering the syringe, Dean looked closely at the puncture wound on her neck, checking for signs of poison. He had no idea what they had been injected with, or if they had even been drugged with the same thing. Luckily, there was no tell-tale signs of poison spidering out of the wound on her neck. At least something was going right.

"Let's go, Jo. Rise and shine. No time to be a lazy bitch."

Finally Jo opened her eyes. She blinked slowly until her eyes focused on Dean.

"Wat'd you call m'?" she asked groggily.

"A lazy bitch," Dean answered, letting out a silent breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"No, the 'ther thing."

"Uh, princess?"

"Yeah. Don' call me that, jackass," Jo mumbled, trying to sit up with a groan. Dean helped her reach a sitting position, knowing how his head had felt when he did the same thing. "Where are we?" she asked a little more coherently when her dizzy spell had passed.

"No idea. Somewhere underground I think, based on the smell and the lack of windows. Are you okay?" Dean asked, looking at her closely.

"Besides the mother of all headaches, I'm fine. You?"

"Same."

"Any idea who's got us, or why?"

"No clue."

"Did you and Sam-"

"Oh God, Sam!" Dean interrupted. He silently kicked himself for forgetting about his little brother in his concern for his friend. "Where is he?" He looked around the room, but saw no huddled form lurking in a corner.

"I, I don't know," Jo answered, suddenly sounding a little scared. She didn't see any signs of where he could be in the tiny room. "If they got us, they must have gotten him. Where is he?"

"Oh, Sam…" Dean groaned. He felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach as he thought of what could have happened to him.

"Wait!" Jo exclaimed. "He went back to the motel! He had a headache and went back early, remember?"

Relief flooded over Dean as he realized his brother probably wasn't trapped…wherever they were trapped. Now the real question was, where were they, and why were they here? And, more importantly, how were they going to get out?

"Well since neither of us appear to be dying, what do you say to us trying to find a way out of this hole?"

"Sounds good to me."

After a moment of struggle and a few dizzy spells, both hunters managed to get to their feet and started investigating the meager contents of the room. Besides the chair and the gruesome chains and hooks, the room was completely empty. After a quick examination, they decided none of the hooks could be used to their advantage. They had nothing to pick the lock on the hatch with, so that was out of the question. Not that they would be able to pick a lock with their hands tied the way they were, anyway. Or that they would even be able to climb the ladder to reach the lock.

After several minutes of futile searching, Dean and Jo sat down side by side against the wall, silently contemplating an escape plan. They both had been stripped of all weapons and tools, including their cell phones. Their jackets and boots were missing as well. Someone had even taken the precaution of removing Dean's belt. Clearly their captors realized how resourceful trapped hunters could be.

Worry started to settle down on Dean as he watched his breath form clouds in front of him. They had no idea where they were, why they were there, or who was keeping them captive. Both of their wrists were bound tightly. They had no weapons, no resources of any kind. The room was freezing, and they had no jackets or boots. There was no way Sam had any idea where they were. And judging by the sounds his stomach was starting to make, it had been several hours since their last meal. Things did NOT look good.

His train of thought was interrupted when he felt Jo shiver beside him. He shifted closer to her and put his arms around her for warmth, his tied hands forcing him to awkwardly hug her with both arms.

Jo didn't say anything, just shifted slightly so his arms rested more comfortably across her shoulders. She rested her head tiredly on his shoulder. They sat like that in silence, each contemplating ideas on how to escape.

As time passed, Jo started shivering more violently. Dean felt himself start to shiver too, and pulled her closer for warmth.

"You know, taking your clothes off is supposed to keep you warmer. Skin-to-skin contact," Dean teased Jo softly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, keep dreaming, big boy," Jo answered, giving him a light shove.

"What? It's survival 101."

"Right. So you figure out how to take your shirt off over your bound hands and I'll…" her snarky reply was cut short at the sound of footsteps at the door above them.