When Sam met Christian

A/N: I have been reading a Stephen King novel called Gerald's Game, and it has given me some inspiration. If you want a psychological thriller that gives what Ana's reaction should have been, I suggest reading it. I trust a lot of you are enjoying this story. It's been cathartic. Thank you for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter.

The scene was frozen in front of them. Grey stood over the same woman who had nearly run them over earlier that day, his hand raised above his shoulder. The woman – he had called her Ana – was clutching her cheek, an expression of shock on her face. A third figure stood in the corner, simply watching the scene unfold. He was the only one who reacted to the entrance of the two hunters.

He pulled out his gun, and aimed at the two men. The hunters froze in the doorway, Dean with his gun trained on Grey, Sam with his on the bodyguard. Grey looked up, and his jaw almost dropped in surprise. He stepped away from Ana, dropping his hand. "You."

The word was low, a growl, but it made Ana jump back in surprise, her breath hitching from what the brothers guessed was fear. Sam noted the tears in her eyes, and that just enraged him further.

"Like hitting women, Christian?"

The snarky comment came from Dean, who was just as livid as his brother. Grey lifted his hands, and smiled. It was a shark's smile, or that of a snake before it bit you. "I didn't think you were FBI." He gestured with his hands still in the air. "So what are you? CIA? Special Forces? Are you even cops?"

Sam didn't move. He kept his gun pointed at the bodyguard, who was busy aiming his own gun at Dean's head. "Does it matter?"

Grey rolled his eyes, and looked away at his bodyguard. "Taylor, shoot them."

The brothers stood their ground. Ana stood in the middle of the room, quietly sobbing. Neither of the brothers could risk going to her without risking getting shot. They were at a stalemate, and Grey began to laugh. "I see. You come bursting into my house, with the intention of shooting me, and now neither of you has the balls to do so. Some cops you are." The scorn in his voice was evident, and it grated against Dean's senses.

Taylor kept his gun on the bigger threat, Dean, but kept his eye on Sam. No sense in letting either of the men get the upper hand. Ana continued to sob, and flinched slightly when Grey moved his right hand impatiently. Frankly, she deserved another slap, in Taylor's opinion. She had been too disrespectful with Mr Grey, and she needed another lesson from him.

The mood of the room suddenly changed; Grey suddenly stood still, his eyes wide in surprise. Sam could predict why. Castiel now stood between the brothers, impassively taking in the scene. Grey eyed the angel out, clearly not comfortable in his presence.

Few people were. The brothers were used to the unease – either that, or they had killed so many evil bastards, one confused angel was hardly going to set their instincts off. But Grey and his henchman were clearly unnerved by the way the angel regarded them with the same impassivity one would use to look at a particularly dull spreadsheet.

Cas looked at the three figures in the room, and his eyes lighted on Taylor, who looked like he had just seen a ghost. He appeared physically repulsed by Cas, and he fought to stay in place. "He is not-" before Cas could finish, he tilted his head, listening to heavenly orders. "I need to go."

With the now familiar static pop, he was gone. Grey blinked, swore, and then looked at Sam and Dean. "Who are you guys?"

Dean didn't move, his gun trained on Grey. "Your worst nightmare, in your living room."

Taylor grinned, and then began to laugh. "I think we have that covered, Dean Winchester."

Sam kept his own gun on Taylor, and managed to hide his surprise. Grey, however, couldn't. "You know these people? Are they friends of yours?"

Taylor grinned, and shook his head. "No. But they are pretty well known in the hunter community." He looked at the brothers again. "I didn't think it was you guys, until that damn angel appeared. Only two hunters travel with one of them bastards, and you're it."

Sam pulled the trigger, and Taylor jerked like he had been shot. But he didn't move. Ana's eyes were bugging out, and Grey grabbed her arm to drag her out of the way. Sam fired again, but it was clear bullets were doing very little to slow the bodyguard down. There was a loud tearing noise, and Taylor convulsed on his feet. His clothing disintegrated, and fur began to sprout from underneath his skin. Dean backed up to Sam. "Skinwalker? Son of a bitch."

Sam nodded, his face grim as he holstered his gun. "Got any silver?"

Dean pulled out a knife, and nodded to his brother. The skinwalker launched at Dean, who put his arms up to defend himself. There was a brutal scuffle, and Sam pulled out the blade used to kill demons. It wasn't made of silver, but it would still hurt.

Sam lunged into the fray, the two brothers fighting against a brutal opponent. The goal was to incapacitate or kill, without being bitten. Sam and Dean had Taylor backed into the corner, each of them brandishing a knife, when Sam realised they had forgotten about the other threat in the room. But he couldn't take his eyes off of the skinwalker in front of them.

A hard knock on the back of Sam's head had him pitching forwards. He was vaguely aware of Grey standing over him brandishing a large stone sculpture, before the world faded to black.

XxxxxxxxxxxX

Grey paced across the locked bathroom door. Ana was having a woman moment, throwing up from the scene she had just witnessed. Grey didn't care how weak her stomach was. He just wanted to make sure she wasn't messing up his bathroom. Grey glared at the closed bathroom door. This was the problem with women; too weak for this world. This was why they needed to be coddled and protected and taught to tow the line.

Taylor appeared from upstairs, pulling on a t-shirt. His clothing had been destroyed in his transformation. "They secure?"

Taylor nodded. "They're ready for you, Mr Grey."

Grey grinned, and started for the stairs. He paused. "Make sure Anastasia hasn't ruined my bathroom completely."

Grey didn't wait to see if the order had been followed. He stalked up the stairs, and into what he affectionately referred to as 'The Playroom'. The playroom was where he kept all of his fun stuff. Shackles, ropes, cable ties, ball gags, clamps, whips, canes, and other items that he used to have his fun. The press would have a field day if they ever found out about this place. Because conservative, wealthy men were not meant to be into beating their partners for pleasure.

But this wasn't about pleasure. This was about punishing the hunters. The word seemed strange to Grey, but Taylor had been adamant that these men were a threat. Grey felt the anticipation build as he saw the shorter man – Taylor had called him 'Dean' – shackled to the St Andrew's Cross in the centre of the room. He was wearing just his jeans and a t-shirt, having been stripped of his jacket, shoes, and weapons by Taylor. Dean was awake, and alert, but surprisingly impassive. "This is what gets you off? Or do you prefer to be strapped to this thing?"

Grey scowled. "I don't tolerate that sort of talk in here, Dean."

Grey could see the other one – he couldn't remember the man's name – shackled to the bed in the corner. He was only just starting to come around. Dean craned his neck, his concern for the other man apparent. "Sam! Sammy! You okay?"

Sam moaned, and Dean breathed an obvious sigh of relief. And then he fixed his gaze on Grey, who was now standing in front of him. Those haunted green eyes startled Grey, who hid his surprise behind a sneer. "You can't do anything to me that I haven't experienced before, Christian."

Sam. Grey grinned. "Would you prefer Sam was on that cross instead?"

He picked up a cane as he spoke, but Dean didn't flinch. He didn't even take his eyes off the billionaire, which was a little unnerving.

Grey grinned. "It's good for you that I didn't get Taylor to strip you completely. Because this will hurt."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Is that what that monster calls himself? Because we hunt bastards like him. And we're damn good at it too."

Grey brandished the cane. "Don't get too cocky, Dean. I don't like cocky."

He brought the cane down across Dean's thigh, and grinned when Dean winced slightly. This was definitely going to be fun.

XxxxxxxxxxxX

Sam was jolted awake by a loud thwack, and tried to sit up. Something stopped his arms from moving, and he turned his head to see what it was. Shackles bound him to a bedpost. On both sides. Great. Sam heard a second crack, like a whip, and strained to see what it was.

The seasoned hunter got a fright when he realised his brother was tied to some torture device, and Grey was in the process of hitting him with a cane. Dean, to his credit, didn't react beyond the occasional flinch. But that information didn't exactly settle Sam's stomach. Not when he knew Dean often woke during the night in a cold sweat, the name Alistair on the tip of his tongue.

Dean's four months of actual Hell had left an impact, but Sam didn't want his brother to suffer any further. "Hey! Asshole! Why not pick on someone your own size?"

Grey froze, and turned to face Sam. "I'm coming to you next, Sammy. Don't you worry." He gestured at Dean, who was glaring at him and attempting to hide how much his ribs were hurting. "First, I need to teach your friend here why I'm the one in charge."

Sam laughed scornfully. "Yeah, you're totally the one in charge, since you get your rocks off on beating innocent women. I'll bet those disappearances were you taking things too far, and your skinwalker pet finishing the job."

Grey began to change colour at the jibe from Sam. In any other circumstance, it would have been humorous to watch a man change from pale to bright red to pale in the space of thirty seconds. As it was, Sam was concerned the man was about to pass out. Grey seemed to get his temper under control, and tried for a casual grin. It seemed forced, fake. "I see you've been doing your research, Sam."

He swung the cane out wide, narrowly missing the side of Dean's head with the tip. Dean ducked out of the way, as much as he could. "Son of a bitch."

Grey didn't stop. "But, I'm the one in charge here, so we play by my rules now."

Sam rolled his eyes. He was baiting the man, but he wanted the billionaire CEO to lash out, because angry men made mistakes. "You're only in charge when your subjects can't move? How quaint. Let me go, and then we can go head to head. Let's do this for real, Christian."

Dean struggled against his shackled, the chains clattering against the wood of the cross. "Sammy, no! Just leave it. I'm fine."

Before Sam could reply, the door to the shitty porn hellscape cracked open. "She's ready, Mr Grey."

Grey smiled – a real smile – and turned to the door. "Send her in, Taylor."

The door opened fully, and Sam strained from his position on the bed to see who had just entered. Ana stood in the doorway, the shock on her face clear as she tried to process what she was seeing. Sam couldn't blame her. Nobody deserved to be thrown into such a strange mess with no warning. But she didn't seem to be shaking, just looking at everything and figuring out what was going on.

To her credit, she seemed to be handling it better than he would have expected. She took in the room, and eventually looked at Dean, still struggling against the shackles. "What are you doing to him?" Her voice was soft, and cracked right at the end.

Perhaps she's not holding up like I thought. Sam yanked hard on his left hand, while Grey turned away, gesturing in Dean's direction. "I'm teaching Dean that it's impolite to burst into somebody's house with the intention to kill them. Especially when they have such lovely company."

He reached out, running the back of his hand slowly down her face. Ana jerked away from his caress, and Grey scowled. "Get her out of here!" yelled Dean, cutting into what Grey must have assumed was a romantic moment.

Grey swung to face him. "I'm in charge, Dean. My playroom. My rules. Now, stay there like the good captive you are, and let me use you to teach Ana what happens when people disobey me."

Ana surreptitiously sidled away from the billionaire, but Grey was no longer focussed on her. He regarded Dean with contempt – actual contempt – before pulling out the knife Sam had been carrying. Both brothers swore, and Ana jumped, backing away further. That wasn't any ordinary knife. It was a demon-killing knife. And now Grey was brandishing it like some swashbuckling pirate.

Grey grabbed the front of Dean's t-shirt, and sliced it open right down the middle. "There, now you're ready to receive your punishment."

Dean didn't react, and Sam yanked on his right shackle. He yanked hard, and felt something give. The bed setup, while perfect for whatever perverted ideas passed for fun around here, was not meant to actually restrain an unwilling victim. And Sam was definitely unwilling. He yanked again, and the screws holding the shackle to the bed broke free. Grey froze. Ana realised what had happened, and pushed over a pile of sex toys to cover the noise of breaking screws. She wanted Sam free, because this Christian Grey was a maniac.

Grey swung around, and stalked over to her. He loomed over her like a menacing black shadow, and the timid woman shrunk under his penetrating gaze. "Anastasia, go and stand over there in that corner, and don't touch anything. You cannot interrupt my work again."

Ana nodded meekly, and slunk into the corner. Sam caught her eye, and nodded his thanks. Ana merely tipped her head, and then looked away. She appeared to have locked eyes with Dean, offering him what little support she could.

Sam slowly sat up, and gripped his left wrist in his right hand. As much as it disgusted him, he could use the beating Dean was receiving to his advantage. As Grey brought the cane across Dean's chest, yelling obscenities as he did, Sam yanked on the shackle. Dean was watching out of the corner of his eye, and silently approving. Even though he thought the whole idea of a beating really distasteful.

It took three pulls for the shackle to break free, and Sam pushed off the bed in one movement. He grabbed what he assumed was a whip, and then put it back. This called for some real, hand to hand beating. As Grey brought the cane up for another strike, Sam grabbed his arm from behind. Grey ended up flat on his back, winded and trying to draw breath. Sam grinned. This was going to be good.

A/N2: I tried to make Grey sympathetic, I really did. But I had a serious case of the character fighting against what I wanted. It happens sometimes. Please leave me a review, and let me know how I'm doing. There will probably be one more chapter, and an epilogue, but that could change once I write it. Thanks again, and see y'all next time.