Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Threesome, Kidnapping, Threats, Possible Non-Con, etc.

It had been a mistake to scream. Before he had screamed, his assailant didn't know where he was. But now, from what Seth could see from underneath the bed, the crazed eyes were locked onto his own. His heart hammered uncontrollably in his chest, each one of his nerves alight with the instinct to flee. It obviously wasn't safe here. And why had he chosen to hide under the bed? Wasn't that the first place that the murderer looked? Meekly, he started to slither back to the far wall. But he was too slow, and all of a sudden, two hands slid toward him.

Instinctually, when the hand closed around his shoulder, Seth leaned forward and bit the thick collaboration of muscle and tough, dry skin. The man howled, but didn't withdraw his hand. So Seth bit harder, bit until his jaw ached, bit until he felt blood squirt over his tongue. It was useless. The man had an unfathomable tolerance for pain and, with his wounded arm, started to drag Seth's body toward him. Seth's eyes widened as he realized that there was little that he could do to prevent this. He had exhausted himself and all of his options.

All of a sudden, he was out from under the bed. Now, with both hands on Seth, he was lifted and thrown onto the bed. When the man released him to reach for an object behind him, he tried to flee. He only succeeded in falling off of the bed in his haste and banging his head on the floor. Blood trickled into his eye and his body suddenly felt incredibly heavy. The man, infuriated by his actions, tossed him back onto the bed and secured the duct tape over his mouth. Handcuffs hooked over his lithe wrists and a bandana secured over his eyes.

Seth's screams of terror were muted behind the silver duct tape, which wound around his head several times to ensure that he stayed silent. The man's arms hooked around his middle, taking him off of the mattress and throwing him over his shoulder. Seth kicked, his knee just barely missing the man's groin. Cursing under his breath, a meaty paw of a hand clubbed him on the injured side of his head. Even with the darkness of the blindfold, the world seemed to become that much darker. And then all became uncomfortably silent…

"Wakey, wakey, Sethie." The man teased, taking hold of Seth's two-toned locks and yanking his pretty head back. Seth's eyes slowly fluttered open, the room coming in and out of focus. However, he was soon able to comprehend that he was still in the hotel.

"W-Where am I?" Or, at least, that was what he tried to ask. It was rather difficult to understand him with the duct tape still secured over his mouth. He tried to speak a second time, but it came out only as a series of muffled moans.

"Oh, would you like me to remove that for you?" Meaty fingers continued to rake through Seth's hair. "I don't think I want to. It's rather nice, you know, to not have to hear you run your mouth all the time. Just like Punk, you just don't know when to shut up."

Seth's eyes widened. "What the hell have you done to Phil?" This, of course, was what he wanted to ask. Instead, the stupid moans that came out of his mouth caused his cheeks to flush crimson. How could he help his friend if he couldn't even speak?

"I wouldn't worry too much about dear ol' Punk, Sethie dear. He'll get what's coming to him in due time. But you? Well, you're the kind of bitch that needs discipline. I sent you how many letters? What is it about 'you're mine' that's so hard to understand?" He asked.

Seth didn't even bother to answer. It was wasted energy, and he already felt so tired…

"Maybe I need to get a bit more personal, huh? Maybe I need to take out your precious Dean? Or maybe Roman?" He continued.

Seth moaned and, in response, the man yanked his hair back. Biting down on his already sore lip, blood flowed onto the duct tape.

"Or is it that you just don't care about your masters? Is that it?" He made a sound of utter disapproval. Walking around to Seth's front, he started to remove the man's boots.

"What are you doing?" Seth's half-lidded eyes followed the man's every movement, but his tired brain was too clouded to fully comprehend what was happening.

"Why, what am I doing?" The man feigned shock. "I'm only teaching you a lesson, Sethie. You'd do well to learn it by heart."

From somewhere in the darkness, the man obtained a riding crop. It was long and thin, with places where the leather had worn away and had been replaced with thin links of metal. All in all, it looked rather monstrous. And to Seth, in his drugged state, it looked like a character from one of his frequent nightmares. The man caressed the weapon as if it were a long lost lover. It wove over his hand serenely, but Seth knew it had to have quite a bite. And when the man thrust the whip, cracking it against the chair, the cut it left in the wood testified to that.

Seth closed his eyes. He didn't need to see to know that the man had raised the whip high into the air. Holding his breath, which was never a smart idea in situations such as these, he waited. And then it hit. It was like someone had lit a firecracker and it had exploded on his foot. He screamed, but it sounded dull to his own ears. Another slice. Another. He could feel it bleeding now. The blood would be hot, thick, and fresh. The wet smack of it against the whip nearly made him ill.

And the man seemed to find all of this terribly amusing. He laughed as he administered the brutal punishment, not even caring that Seth was on the brink of losing consciousness. By the time the attack moved to the left foot, he was out of it completely. The attack was swift and brutal, unlike the one on the right. Most likely, this was due to the fact that he couldn't enjoy Seth's agony. Casting the whip aside, he took a bucket of ice water and assaulted Seth's face with the contents. He awoke sputtering, but still unable to say a word.

"Did I say that you could fall asleep on me, boy?" His voice was firmer now, but there was an amused shimmer in his eyes that made Seth sick. He patted Seth's cold, wet cheeks affectionately.

Seth shook his head, unable to do much more.

"That's lesson number one, my boy. I hope you learned from it. After all, I don't like to punish you." Like Seth actually believed that. "And now, time for lesson number two." The demonic smirk on the man's face did more than unsettle Seth…

Seth shook his head once more. He was just so tired and the last thing he wanted to do was endure more of this abuse.

"It's not like you have much choice in the matter, boy." His voice was back to being frozen, hard.

Seth tried to speak behind his gag. "Don't touch me."

"You're so cute, Sethie – you actually think that you have a choice in all of this. Now, here's what you're going to do…"

Not bothering to wait for Dean's call, Seth raced into the ring and threw himself at the mercy of Sheamus' Brogue Kick. Just the running itself caused his feet to bleed again, but he didn't care. In fact, he couldn't feel much with the utter numbness spreading through him. Dean and Roman entered the ring shortly thereafter, beating the crap out of the assailants and, after they had beaten them down, dragged Seth out of the ring. Seth's eyes were hazed over and, most likely, he had a concussion. But he had fulfilled lesson number two.

Dean and Roman took Seth to the back, which allowed him time to come to his senses. Realizing that he was still upset with them, he tore himself out of Roman's arms and almost fell over. His boots squelched with blood. Falling down, almost onto his face, he stumbled back to his feet and rushed into his locker room. He couldn't allow them to touch him, couldn't allow them to see him like this. The lesson was to throw himself on the line for them, only to take himself out of the equation before things became 'too serious'.

"I just want to sleep… my feet hurt so fucking bad, I don't even want to look at them." Seth stretched out on the couch, closing his eyes. But not before he saw the letter attached to his gym bag.