Devil in the Detail
folder
Supernatural › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
5,285
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Supernatural › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
5,285
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 2
Sam smiled at Victoria Handel, who was making him tea, playing the polite hostess and trying hard to hide the shaking in her hands.
“It’s OK,” Sam said, “I know you had nothing to do with Malcolm’s disappearance…Hey, hey I know this is difficult for you being the last one to see him alive…” The sympathy in Sam’s voice finally finishing off what little self control she had, Victoria dropped the pot mid pour and the gentle flow of tears turned to racking sobs.
“You have to leave,” she spluttered, “you’re in danger, and you’ve been so kind to me…” Sam leant forward, and she grabbed his hands, “real danger and so is Dean.”
*********************************************************************
The combined smell of engine oil, musty carpet and fresh vomit was hardly a fine bouquet, but Dean was reassured that at least he was alive to smell as the car drew to a halt and the engine died.
He heard the car door swing open and felt the suspension adjust as Handel got out, listening to his footsteps moving away. Rolling on to his back, straining to hear any sound of return, Dean braced his legs against the trunk and pushed trying to pop the lock. It was futile. He flexed his fingers against the pins and needles and squirmed back on to his side. “Well this is a fine fucking mess to be in,” he said aloud, reassured by the sound of his own voice. “Never a paper clip in a trunk when you really need one.”
*********************************************************************
Sam flicked open his phone and dialled Dean’s number, noticing the 6 or 7 missed calls. “Shit.” The phone rang endlessly, for a fleeting moment Sam wondered if he had rung his father in error. Dean’s voice asked him to leave a message and he left his warning, beginning to fear that he may be too late.
*********************************************************************
Dean grunted as he was dragged from the boot into the garage. He wasn’t quick enough to swing his legs under him and fell in an awkward heap onto the concrete floor. He lay there for a second feeling the phone in his pocket vibrate. Making sure as he stood up, that he made enough noise to cover the humming, he raised himself up to his full height and stretched his shoulders as much as he could, before Handel shoved him forward again. “Hey man, ease up, I’m movin’”
Dean struggled as he was pushed down the corridor, arms still cuffed behind him. He staggered and fell twisting as he felt himself fall so that he landed on his shoulder, rather than his face. He groaned as the sheriff kicked him. “Get up shit bag. On your feet.” He was hauled upright and manhandled towards the door.
Knowing it was pointless asking the cop anything, knowing it would lead to nothing but physical abuse, Dean could not resist the urge to try and needle the guy. “Seemed fairer to me, before you cuffed me, weren’t so much the one on top there. Good job your buddy turned up really.”
“Shut the fuck up unless you want some more of the same.”
“Bet that works on your wife.” His next sentence was lost as he was slammed against the wall. “My wife ain’t no concern of yours, pretty boy,”the man rasped, his voice harsh and his eyes bulging. Dean spat the blood from his mouth as he was yanked away from the wall.
He was shoved through the door into the room. In the corner was a camera on a tripod linked to a computer in the corner. It was focussed on a pool of light so bright that Dean felt his eyes burning with hot needles as he squinted into it. The floor was covered by a large soft looking eiderdown.
He grimaced and shouted at the sharp stabbing pain in his leg like a hornet sting. His hands were released. He turned rubbing his leg and wrists alternately as the door slammed shut. He looked distractedly at them, purple and spotted with blood where the overly tightened cuffs had sunk into the flesh. He started towards the door. A voice boomed into the room, “Sit down over there.”
His vision was beginning to blur and his mouth felt dry. He moved towards the quilt, skin prickling. “What the fuck did you jab me…” The room filled with colour and his vision fractioned into a kaleidoscopic blur of colours, he felt the sound around him like ripples in a swimming pool. He collapsed sideways onto the eiderdown and did not feel himself land.
*********************************************************************
His brain cleared suddenly and his eyes snapped open. He tried to lift his hands to his rub his face and dropped his head to his shoulder. Fuck, he was chained to the wall. He snatched at the restraints, they were strong the chain was shiny and new. The leather against his skin itched over the weals on his wrists. The chains holding his wrists snapped tight pulling him to his feet and dragging his hands back over his head to the wall behind, his head banged against the bricks.
The sheriff reached behind Dean’s head and tied a gag tightly into his mouth. “That should keep your wise ass remarks to a minimum," he said, smirking at the hatred in Dean’s face.
He took a step back, admiring his own handiwork. Dean watched him warily and then began taking in his surroundings. “Don’t bother, there’s no way out of this. You are staying here until we decide it’s time. And don’t hold out hope of rescue. ‘Sammy’ is walking into the self same trap that you did. Can’t wait for the tearful family reunion, myself…” He laughed, even through the gag, there was no mistaking the expletive. “Fight all you want, you ain’t going anywhere.”
Dean stared after him as he shut the door. The only light in the room was the ghostly glow of the extinguished computer screen in the corner. The camera stood on its tripod, it’s unseeing eye staring at him, like a sentinel.
The guy was full of shit, but it was possible that Sam had followed the trail and would get himself caught, but Dean was certain that his brother was smarter than that and Dean’s failure to return would give him a huge hint that all was not as it seemed. Somehow he drifted into sleep, standing hipshod like a pony.
*********************************************************************
Louis stared at the replay on screen. The boy was truly beautiful, just as Sheriff Handel had promised, and a bonus, officially he was already dead. He lay unconscious on the dirty floor, dressed in khaki jacket and classic denims.
His face was bruised and the dark contusion on his cheek matched the blush of his lips. His eyes were closed, the face smooth and handsome. Louis glanced at the description, hazel green eyes. He imagined them open and pleading, like bright jewels. He could not wait to see those eyes gazing at him from the strong angled face. He moistened his lips. Louis stared at the line of the jaw, the neat ear and the way the dark hair kissed his temple and forehead, it was endearingly ruffled. Bedhead. Louis caressed his own upper lip with the tip of his tongue. The price for this one was high and now he began to understand it was probably going to be worth it.
Handel turned Dean over, strapping a leather cuff around each unresisting wrist, carefully he positioned a small metal stud gun into place and fixed three neatly spaced studs along the joins. He clipped each restraint to lengths of chain which were looped through hooks fixed to the walls and floor. Dean groaned and Louis felt his clothes tighten and his pulse quicken.
Handel drew back as the eyes snapped open. A flash of awareness across Dean’s face as Handel pulled on the chains and his arms jerked back over his head. To Louis it was almost comical, Dean looked like a puppet as he scrabbled to his feet and staggered backwards. Then he saw the teeth catch the lip with pain as Dean’s head hit the wall and Louis felt a surge of hot pleasure across his own groin. He was capitivated. The angry glower at Handel was wonderful, such spirit and fight. The defiance in each and every tort muscle. The gag was pulled tight with some force, and the growl of protest from Dean convulsed Louis with desire.
As Handel taunted him about his brother, Dean screamed an obscenity through the gag in his mouth and pulled at the wall restraints. Louis came in his pants.
“It’s OK,” Sam said, “I know you had nothing to do with Malcolm’s disappearance…Hey, hey I know this is difficult for you being the last one to see him alive…” The sympathy in Sam’s voice finally finishing off what little self control she had, Victoria dropped the pot mid pour and the gentle flow of tears turned to racking sobs.
“You have to leave,” she spluttered, “you’re in danger, and you’ve been so kind to me…” Sam leant forward, and she grabbed his hands, “real danger and so is Dean.”
*********************************************************************
The combined smell of engine oil, musty carpet and fresh vomit was hardly a fine bouquet, but Dean was reassured that at least he was alive to smell as the car drew to a halt and the engine died.
He heard the car door swing open and felt the suspension adjust as Handel got out, listening to his footsteps moving away. Rolling on to his back, straining to hear any sound of return, Dean braced his legs against the trunk and pushed trying to pop the lock. It was futile. He flexed his fingers against the pins and needles and squirmed back on to his side. “Well this is a fine fucking mess to be in,” he said aloud, reassured by the sound of his own voice. “Never a paper clip in a trunk when you really need one.”
*********************************************************************
Sam flicked open his phone and dialled Dean’s number, noticing the 6 or 7 missed calls. “Shit.” The phone rang endlessly, for a fleeting moment Sam wondered if he had rung his father in error. Dean’s voice asked him to leave a message and he left his warning, beginning to fear that he may be too late.
*********************************************************************
Dean grunted as he was dragged from the boot into the garage. He wasn’t quick enough to swing his legs under him and fell in an awkward heap onto the concrete floor. He lay there for a second feeling the phone in his pocket vibrate. Making sure as he stood up, that he made enough noise to cover the humming, he raised himself up to his full height and stretched his shoulders as much as he could, before Handel shoved him forward again. “Hey man, ease up, I’m movin’”
Dean struggled as he was pushed down the corridor, arms still cuffed behind him. He staggered and fell twisting as he felt himself fall so that he landed on his shoulder, rather than his face. He groaned as the sheriff kicked him. “Get up shit bag. On your feet.” He was hauled upright and manhandled towards the door.
Knowing it was pointless asking the cop anything, knowing it would lead to nothing but physical abuse, Dean could not resist the urge to try and needle the guy. “Seemed fairer to me, before you cuffed me, weren’t so much the one on top there. Good job your buddy turned up really.”
“Shut the fuck up unless you want some more of the same.”
“Bet that works on your wife.” His next sentence was lost as he was slammed against the wall. “My wife ain’t no concern of yours, pretty boy,”the man rasped, his voice harsh and his eyes bulging. Dean spat the blood from his mouth as he was yanked away from the wall.
He was shoved through the door into the room. In the corner was a camera on a tripod linked to a computer in the corner. It was focussed on a pool of light so bright that Dean felt his eyes burning with hot needles as he squinted into it. The floor was covered by a large soft looking eiderdown.
He grimaced and shouted at the sharp stabbing pain in his leg like a hornet sting. His hands were released. He turned rubbing his leg and wrists alternately as the door slammed shut. He looked distractedly at them, purple and spotted with blood where the overly tightened cuffs had sunk into the flesh. He started towards the door. A voice boomed into the room, “Sit down over there.”
His vision was beginning to blur and his mouth felt dry. He moved towards the quilt, skin prickling. “What the fuck did you jab me…” The room filled with colour and his vision fractioned into a kaleidoscopic blur of colours, he felt the sound around him like ripples in a swimming pool. He collapsed sideways onto the eiderdown and did not feel himself land.
*********************************************************************
His brain cleared suddenly and his eyes snapped open. He tried to lift his hands to his rub his face and dropped his head to his shoulder. Fuck, he was chained to the wall. He snatched at the restraints, they were strong the chain was shiny and new. The leather against his skin itched over the weals on his wrists. The chains holding his wrists snapped tight pulling him to his feet and dragging his hands back over his head to the wall behind, his head banged against the bricks.
The sheriff reached behind Dean’s head and tied a gag tightly into his mouth. “That should keep your wise ass remarks to a minimum," he said, smirking at the hatred in Dean’s face.
He took a step back, admiring his own handiwork. Dean watched him warily and then began taking in his surroundings. “Don’t bother, there’s no way out of this. You are staying here until we decide it’s time. And don’t hold out hope of rescue. ‘Sammy’ is walking into the self same trap that you did. Can’t wait for the tearful family reunion, myself…” He laughed, even through the gag, there was no mistaking the expletive. “Fight all you want, you ain’t going anywhere.”
Dean stared after him as he shut the door. The only light in the room was the ghostly glow of the extinguished computer screen in the corner. The camera stood on its tripod, it’s unseeing eye staring at him, like a sentinel.
The guy was full of shit, but it was possible that Sam had followed the trail and would get himself caught, but Dean was certain that his brother was smarter than that and Dean’s failure to return would give him a huge hint that all was not as it seemed. Somehow he drifted into sleep, standing hipshod like a pony.
*********************************************************************
Louis stared at the replay on screen. The boy was truly beautiful, just as Sheriff Handel had promised, and a bonus, officially he was already dead. He lay unconscious on the dirty floor, dressed in khaki jacket and classic denims.
His face was bruised and the dark contusion on his cheek matched the blush of his lips. His eyes were closed, the face smooth and handsome. Louis glanced at the description, hazel green eyes. He imagined them open and pleading, like bright jewels. He could not wait to see those eyes gazing at him from the strong angled face. He moistened his lips. Louis stared at the line of the jaw, the neat ear and the way the dark hair kissed his temple and forehead, it was endearingly ruffled. Bedhead. Louis caressed his own upper lip with the tip of his tongue. The price for this one was high and now he began to understand it was probably going to be worth it.
Handel turned Dean over, strapping a leather cuff around each unresisting wrist, carefully he positioned a small metal stud gun into place and fixed three neatly spaced studs along the joins. He clipped each restraint to lengths of chain which were looped through hooks fixed to the walls and floor. Dean groaned and Louis felt his clothes tighten and his pulse quicken.
Handel drew back as the eyes snapped open. A flash of awareness across Dean’s face as Handel pulled on the chains and his arms jerked back over his head. To Louis it was almost comical, Dean looked like a puppet as he scrabbled to his feet and staggered backwards. Then he saw the teeth catch the lip with pain as Dean’s head hit the wall and Louis felt a surge of hot pleasure across his own groin. He was capitivated. The angry glower at Handel was wonderful, such spirit and fight. The defiance in each and every tort muscle. The gag was pulled tight with some force, and the growl of protest from Dean convulsed Louis with desire.
As Handel taunted him about his brother, Dean screamed an obscenity through the gag in his mouth and pulled at the wall restraints. Louis came in his pants.