The cage Elizabeth wakes up in is wide and short, made up of strips of metal that form little squares. She tries to see past the cracked lens of her glasses and gives up with a growl, tossing them aside as she sits up. "Sammy?"
"Right here." He's on her right in his own cage, hanging onto the top while slamming his feet against the door.
"Where the fuck are we?"
"You're not gonna like it."
"What? Why?" A groan draws her attention across the space to another cage, a middle-aged man sitting up and looking around. She recognizes him from the police report she'd glanced over; it's the same man Evan saw being abducted. "Oh, goddammit, I'm gonna get slow roasted."
"Hey, do you know where we are?"
"Let me just consult my crystal ball," Jenkins says, glaring over at Sam. "I think we're in the country. It smells like it, doesn't it?" Elizabeth takes a deep breath, getting hints of fresh grass and manure and hay. Sam glances over at Elizabeth and she nods.
"You're Alvin Jenkins, aren't you? We've been looking for you."
"You might wanna refine your rescue plan next time."
"Give us time," Elizabeth says, pressing her cheek against the cold bars. "We do some of our best work under pressure. Besides, my boyfriend's out there looking for us and he's too stubborn to give up."
"Do you have brain damage?"
"Probably."
"That was rhetorical! The only thing we can do is wait until those freaks come back and do God knows what to us!" Elizabeth straightens at the mention of freaks, squinting over at the man.
"You've seen them," Sam asks. "What are they?" Farther back in the space a hinge creaks and a door opens, flooding the area with moonlight. They're in a barn, rows of metal cages lined up to replace horse stalls.
"See for yourself." Two shapes enter the barn, dressed in windbreakers with the hoods pulled up over their heads. It casts a shadow, so Elizabeth can't see their faces, but they walk upright and carry batons. There's a buzz and then the door to Jenkins's cage is opening, a heavy bolt sliding back. "Leave me alone! Don't touch me!" One of them sets a plate on the floor and closes the door again, coming over to Sam and Elizabeth.
"Fattening us up," Elizabeth asks the one that comes to stand in front of her cage. The creature doesn't say anything, whacking a baton against the cage door to make her back up. They don't set another plate for her or even open her door, just kicking at the door with a booted foot. They retreat after a moment, one of them pulling a key out of a control panel before strutting out. "Did you see what I saw?"
"They're humans," Sam confirms.
"How often do they come in here, Alvin?"
"Once a day," he shrugs, tearing into a roll. "They use the control panel to open the gate, put the food in, and then leave again."
"What do you think, Sammy? Maybe I could make a distraction when they get your cage open and you can kick the crap out of them." Sam's reaching past the rebar poles welded to the top of the cages, yanking on a metal coil that leads from his cage to the control box.
"Maybe," he says. "I was thinking we could escape while they're busy cooking small children or kicking Bambi."
"You let me know how that works out," Jenkins mutters, curled up in his cage now that his plate is empty. "I've been trying to escape for a week and nothing's succeeded."
"You obviously don't have our stubborn optimism."
"Says the guy that spent a whole month moping that he's not getting into a good college and then got a letter from Stanford," Elizabeth says, rummaging through her pockets. Sam grunts and yanks hard again, part of the coil coming free and a bracket landing on the ground in Sam's cage. "Well, at least you have a weapon."
"What are you digging around for?"
"I always keep a nail file on me just in case."
"What good's a nail file?" She makes a victorious noise as she pulls it out of her back pocket, holding it up for Sam to see. It really is just your basic Dollar Store file, but she's sharpened the tip enough to make Jennifer Tilly beam with pride. "You planning on jabbing them through the bars?"
"If I piss them off enough, they'll wanna open my cage to beat me up. Once that cage is open, this file is going in their brain." The control panel buzzes and a bolt slides back, Jenkins's door popping open. "You must have shorted something out."
"Then why aren't our doors open?"
"Because we broke a shit load of mirrors a few months ago and that was bound to bite us at some point."
"Or it's a trap."
"Who gives a fuck, I'm getting out," Jenkins says, pushing the door open all the way and creeping out. "I'm gonna send help as soon as I get back to town."
"Get back in the cage."
"Hell no. Don't worry, Sammy, I'm gonna get you two some help. Maybe I'll run into that stubborn boyfriend." He ignores Sam's warnings, creeping out of the barn and shutting the door behind him. "He's gonna get himself killed." Jenkins's cage door shuts again, the bolt sliding home.
"Sam, what if they're not eating us," Elizabeth muses, fingers curling around the bars. He turns to look at her, his face reflecting her fear in a mirror image. "What if they're hunting us?" Sam pulls a face, dropping against the back of the cage. "It makes sense if that's what's happening."
"They're not fattening us up, they're just making sure we have enough energy to run."
"Does it ever feel like we've been sucked into bad teen horror flick?"
"Every damn day." A loud scream fills the air as Elizabeth curls up in the corner, the scream cut off abruptly. "We told him to stay in the cage. It's not on us."
"I still feel guilty."
"I know."
It's daytime when the barn door opens again, an older man coming inside with a woman thrown over his shoulder. He pauses long enough to open Jenkins's cage and then he tosses her inside. She's pretty from what Elizabeth can make out, dark red hair and fit. "Why don't you let me out next," Elizabeth says, the file hidden under her leg. I bet I put up more a challenge than the last guy."
"You'll get your chance soon enough," he says, accent thick. He's close to John's age, dressed in overalls with a messy beard and a baseball cap. It's what your stereotypical redneck looks like, container of chew in his back pocket and all. "I think I'll give you a kitchen knife for your hunt."
"Where should I return it when I done? I'm thinkin' the side of your head looks like a good spot." The man bares his teeth in a facsimile of a smile before striding out and closing the door behind him. "I can't wait to kill that guy."
"I'll hold him down for you," Sam says with a wry smile. "Dean would be so proud, his baby brother and his girlfriend tag-teaming an extra from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre." A groan from the other cage has them turning their attention to the new kid in school. "You okay over there?"
"I've been better," she grouses as she sits up. "Are you Sam Winchester?"
"Last I checked."
"And that would make her Elizabeth Mayson." Elizabeth nods, bringing her file out and getting to work on her nails. "Your cousin's looking for you. Tall guy, green eyes, and a killer smile." She looks over at Elizabeth, still a little out of it from the head wound. "Your boyfriend's pretty cute for a criminal."
"What can I say," Elizabeth smirks. "I like the bad boys. So where's he at?"
"I cuffed him to my car."
"I hope he brought a paperclip this time." As if on cue, Dean comes sauntering into the barn in all his bow-legged glory, taking his sweet time as he looks around until his gaze lands on the cages. "Hey, hot stuff. How's it going?"
"Not too bad now that I found you dorks," he says, kneeling in front of her cage. "You two good?"
"I've had worse. Remember that one time a striga tried to turn me into a happy meal?" Dean snorts, relaxing a little when she reaches through the door to tap a finger against his lips. "Get me out of here and I'll blow you."
"Get me out of here and I won't puke on your boots," Sam groans. "God, how can you two be so horny in a life or death situation?" Dean and Elizabeth share a look before directing it towards Sam.
"When else would we be horny," Dean asks earnestly. "We're always in danger."
"Just get me outta here, Casanova. There's some sort of control box over there." Dean wanders over to the box, running a hand over the panel. "They're just people, Dean. They have a pretty mean swing, but they're human."
"Then you two are rustier than I thought."
"I'd like to see how you do when you're blinded by headlights and have a Louisville Slugger using your head as a baseball. That shit hurt." Elizabeth nods her agreement, the side of her head still tender even two days later. Dean presses a few buttons and then wanders over to the woman's cage, jerking a coil and yanking on the door.
"Do y'all know what these creeps want?" It's Sam and Elizabeth that share a look this time, mirror expressions of disgust. "What?"
"We're pretty sure they're going to hunt us," Elizabeth tells him. "They read that Richard Connell story and went ape shit or something. Jenkins was released last night and we could hear him screaming."
"And Liza's been antagonizing them, so she's probably next," Sam adds. "Tell him your plan."
"I'm gonna stab 'em. Did you see anything interesting while you were wandering around outside? Windchimes made of rib bones, lampshades made of human flesh?"
"A whole lot of junked cars out back," Dean says. "I figure they usually take the car with their victim."
"Was one of them a black Mustang," the woman asks. "It'd be about ten years old." Dean's gaze softens and the amusement drains away as he looks down at her. He dips his head in a nod and the woman bites back her frown.
"That was your brother's, wasn't it?" She nods, drawing her knees against her chest. "Let's get you guys out of here and then we can take these bastards down. That stupid thing takes a key, have any of y'all seen it hanging around?"
"Nah, the guy always has it," Sam says.
"I guess I'm gonna go play the world's worst game of I-Spy. You three hang tight."
"Be careful out there," Elizabeth warns. "I won't forgive you if you let a group of humans kill you."
"No worries, darlin'." He takes off at a slow jog, careful to keep low once he has the door open. The daylight's starting to fade, soon it'll be pitch black again. Elizabeth's quiet for a bit, but she can't keep to it long.
"Twenty bucks says he gets caught."
"Thirty and a foot massage says he doesn't," Sam says.
"You're on." They sit in relative quiet for ten minutes before the barn door opens again to permit a man inside, this one skinny and tall. "What's going on?"
"You're getting your wish," the guy says. "You're the next one to be hunted." He goes to the control box, turning the key and pressing a button so that her cage unlocks. He's got a rifle slung over his shoulder, which tells Elizabeth that this isn't going the same way it did with Jenkins.
She tenses as he comes over to the cage, waiting until he's closer to kick the door open and nail him with it. He curses and stumbles backwards, the gun going off and knocking some hay loose from the loft. Before he can find his balance, she darts out and shoulders him in the middle, knocking him to the ground. His rifle goes off again, the bullet ripping through a sack of chicken feed.
"Bitch!" He tosses her off of him and stands up, swinging the rifle like a bat. She rolls out of the way and stands up, ready to throw her own punches.
"Come get me, you backwater bastard," she growls. A fist connects with her nose and knocks her back a few feet, eyes watering. "He got me all right."
"Get him over here," Sam shouts, lunging against the door of his cage. Elizabeth grabs the front of the guy's jacket and hauls him sideways, banging his head against the cage. Sam reaches out and grabs the rifle, handing it off to Elizabeth so she can slam it against the man's face. The struggle doesn't take long, but she'll be feeling the muscle aches for days to come. She pulls him into her cage and slams the door shut, making sure he won't be any trouble. "Open the other cages."
"I'm working on it." She hauls herself up and over to the control box, pressing all the buttons until Sam and the cop are released. "What's the plan?"
"I'm going to the loft in case they come to investigate, you go find our idiot, and you can find your car to radio for backup."
"That's a pretty good plan."
"Thanks." Elizabeth and the cop sneak out of the barn, sticking low as they head out into a light drizzle. It's fully dark now and it's hard to see as Elizabeth creeps around the side of the house while the cop goes around the other side. Two men come storming out of the house a moment later, armed with their own rifles as they head into the barn.
Elizabeth slips into the house through a basement window, having to wiggle a little when her belly gets stuck. The basement is crowded with all sorts of junk, but it includes the same bat that knocked her ass out the other night. She picks it up and starts up the stairs, the door leading out into a hallway.
"Oh, that's not right," she whispers in disgust, sidestepping the human jawbone hanging from the ceiling. The house doesn't have much clutter to it, the kitchen a bloody mess with saws hanging from the ceiling, the sitting room mostly empty and the living room, well. The living room boasts a certain hunter that's tied to a chair and being guarded by a thirteen year old girl.
She sets her bat aside and creeps forward while the kid is distracted by gunshots echoing from the barn, her nose pressed against the glass. There's a little throwing knife in the floor, Elizabeth using it to cut through the rope keeping him bound to the chair. He moves across the room and grabs the kid, hauling her into the sitting room and stuffing her in the closet.
"Seriously," Elizabeth asks as he struggles to hold the door shut.
"Kid's a brat. Now hand me some rope." She hands it over to him, waiting for him to tie the door shut before wandering outside. Sam meets them out front, free of any bullet holes and giving them a grim little smile. "Where's Kathleen?"
"She radioed for backup and then came back to help me," Sam explains. "We got the younger two in cages."
"And the older one?" There's another gunshot, the retort making Elizabeth wince. "Well, I guess that answers that."
"He had it coming."
"Yeah, I know." Kathleen comes out of the barn looking worse for wear, blood splattered over her throat and shirt. She's a second away form a breakdown, but she's holding herself together admirably.
"Look, state cops and FBI will be down here within the hour," she tells them. "It'll take you most of that time to hike back to the station and get your car. Duck if you see a cop car and, uh, good luck."
"Thanks."
"You helped me catch the bastards that killed Riley, it's the least I can do."
Oh there ain't no rest for the wicked/ Money don't grow on trees/ I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed/ There ain't nothing in this world for free/ Oh no, I can't slow down, I can't hold back/ Though you know, I wish I could/ Oh no there ain't no rest for the wicked/ Until we close our eyes for good