Before: Jo squirmed desperately on the hook, but couldn't do much with her dislocated shoulder. As Martin reached up to take her down, she bit down on his bicep, drawing blood. Martin took a step back, cursing, clasping a hand to his arm. He slapped Jo hard across the face, then lifted his hand to look at the bite. He cursed again and angrily drew something from his pocket. A syringe like the ones from the alley.

At the sight of the drug, Jo struggled even harder, but to no avail. Martin stabbed the needle into the side of her neck, and moments later Jo's movements slowed as she slipped into unconsciousness. Martin roughly got her off the hook, being a little too touchy for Dean's taste.

"Don't touch her, you asshole!" Dean yelled, only to be greeted with more blows. He grunted as he felt one of his ribs crack with a particularly well-placed punch.

"Do quiet down, sweetie. You're only making it worse for yourself," the demon told Dean with faked concern.

Martin swung Jo over his shoulder and climbed out of the room, barely hindered by Jo's dead weight.

Chapter Eight

Jo slowly blinked her eyes open as the effect of the drugs wore off. She lay on her back, her hands still tied roughly behind her. She sat up, groaning at the pain in her dislocated shoulder, and took in her new surroundings.

She was in another room, this one with wood floors and a window. The room was sparsely decorated. The only furniture was an old bureau, a small desk, and the metal cot that she sat on.

"Dean?" Jo called out. She was disappointed but not surprised when she didn't get an answer. Judging by the window, she was several stories higher than the other room and probably nowhere near her friend.

She rose from the cot carefully, wary of her injured shoulder and her head. Luckily, the room didn't spin this time as she shifted her weight to her feet. At least something's going well.

She walked over to the door and shifted around to jiggle the handle with her tied hands. Unsurprisingly, the door didn't budge. She sighed. She knew it had been a slim chance that it would have been unlocked, but it was worth a try. There was no way she would be able to pick the lock with her hands tied behind her, anyway.

Moving over to the window, she began to inspect it, hoping that it would offer an escape route. The window was bolted tightly closed, not designed to open. Peering past the sill, Jo decided that was just as well. It was a two-story drop down into some angry looking rose bushes. There was no balcony or anything to give her purchase to climb down the wall, either. Not that her shoulder would let her climb.

Jo glanced at the surrounding area, hoping to get an idea of where they were. All she saw were snow-covered trees. Ok, so we're in the middle of a crappy house in the middle of a forest she thought. That didn't really help, considering the little town they were staying in was surrounded by forest.

She was surprised to see that the sun was starting to set. They had been here for almost 24 hours. Her dry mouth reminded her that she hadn't had anything to drink in that time. She either needed to find a way out of here quickly or pray that her captors decided that watching her die of dehydration was not something they wanted.

She shivered suddenly, remembering the cold. Or freeze to death, for that matter.

Turning away from the window, Jo decided to focus on getting her hands free before trying anything else. Having her hands free would give her a little edge, or at the least be more comfortable. Might even be able to find an old spring in that mattress to pick the lock with.

Jo walked back over to the cot. She inspected it closely, hoping to find a sharp edge that she could use to try and cut through the zip-ties. After several minutes, Jo decided that the cot was going to be of no use to her and examined the bureau and the desk. They were empty and offered nothing helpful. Jo slumped down onto the cot. She felt a moment of panic flail up inside her as she started to realize how helpless her situation was, but she pushed the feeling down. That won't help you she upbraided herself.

Pulling herself together, her eyes fell on the wooden floor. The wood looked old, old enough that it would probably be held together by rusted nails…

Jo jumped up and started feeling around the floor with her bare feet, looking for a loose nail in the floor. She thought if she could pry one from the floor, she might be able to use it to cut the zip-ties and pick the lock. If nothing else, she would at least have some sort of weapon for when that grunt Martin came back.

Close to the window, her toe stubbed on a slightly raised nail. Excited, Jo sat down with her back facing the nail so she could work it with her fingers. It was tough work, but after several minutes she thought she felt it loosening. Eager to be free, she redoubled her efforts.

She was so focused on her work that she didn't hear the footsteps outside the door or the sound of a key in a lock.

Jo jumped as the door creaked open, revealing Martin's looming form in the doorframe.

"Have a nice nap?" Martin smiled down at her. "Figured I'd be a gentleman, and wait for you to wake up."

"Wait for what?" Jo asked slowly, not liking the way the man was eyeing her.

Martin's smile grew wider at the question, a wild look in his eye. He approached Jo, pulling out a pocket knife as he did so. Jo immediately recoiled, trying to get away from the blade, but her back was soon pressed up against the wall. She braced herself as Martin reached over her, but instead of the sharp bite of the blade she heard a quick snap. Martin had cut the bindings on her wrists.

Surprised, Jo looked at the man in confusion, and froze when she saw the look in his eyes. Lust. Pure, unadulterated lust. He yanked her button-down shirt open and pushed it off her shoulders, forcing it off her easily now that her wrists were untied. Jo's eyes went wide as she realized what he was trying to do.

Jo thrashed her legs out, trying to push him back, but he trapped her legs down and straddled them, effectively pinning them to the ground. He pressed his face against hers, his rancid breath making her gag. Jo struggled harder, punching him with her good hand, but to no avail. He continued with an almost animalistic fervor. His hands moved desperately across her back, around her hips, and over her stomach.

"Stop! Please don't!" Jo begged.

Martin pushed Jo down to the ground, her legs still trapped beneath his weight. She cried out in pain as she felt bone grind against bone as her shoulder slid back into place. Martin's face split into a twisted smile and he pressed his mouth against her neck, his hands groping her body. Jo flailed desperately, trying to get him off her as one of his hands moved to remove her tank top and sports bra.

Suddenly, Jo felt her left arm come into contact with something sharp. Martin's knife. He had laid it carelessly to the side in his desperation to get her undressed. Jo grabbed the hilt of the knife and plunged the blade into Martin's side.

Martin screamed in pain, pushing roughly off of Jo. Immediately, Jo rolled away, knife still in hand. She turned back towards him, and saw Martin on his knees, clutching the knife wound in his side. He looked up at her furiously.

"You'll pay for that, you bitch!"

He lunged towards her, but Jo was ready. She easily sidestepped his tackle, and he flew past her, his head coming into contact with the side of the cot. Martin fell to the floor with a moan.

Knowing it was now or never, Jo walked over to the barely conscious brute in front her, knife in hand. I could kill this sick bastard now. Keep him from "waiting" for anyone else. But she knew she couldn't kill a man, even one as disgusting as this.

Instead of plunging the blade into his heart, Jo settled for ramming the hilt of the knife into the side of his head, knocking him unconscious. Knowing she couldn't leave him here to come after her as soon as he gained consciousness, she quickly cut his shirt off him, using the strips to tie him securely to the cot. She stuffed her broken button-down into his mouth as a gag.

Jo sat up and winced at the sudden pain in her shoulder when she moved her arm. Not seeing anything else to use as a brace or a sling, she tucked her wrist under the strap of her sports bra in an attempt to keep her arm somewhat more stationary. With a final, disgusted look at the unconscious man, Jo picked up the knife and moved quietly towards the door and the rest of the house.