Love Under The Moonlight

Chapter 4

Sam was regaining consciousness slowly. His brain was humming slightly from the aftereffect of the serum. As he floated closer to the surface of the river of consciousness, pain stabbed into his neck. His hair stuck to his skin, the back of his neck had a very horrible cramp: his head was hanging forward. His whole face was tingling; his whole body was covered with sweat. A rough textile cut into the edges of his mouth and he was biting on a knot that held down his tongue.

He carefully opened his eyes: everything was covered with a veil of fuzziness. He felt one or two tears escape, repairing his vision. Slowly, only with his eyes he looked around, although they were stinging, as though sand got into them.

He was sitting on a hard chair, his wrists tied on its arms. It went through his mind that he tries to escape, but he couldn't find the strength to do it. Between his legs, on the wooden seat he saw a smaller, dark patch. Before he could begin thinking about it, a small stream of saliva flowed out of his mouth and it landed exactly on the dark spot.

As more feeling returned into his limbs, he noticed the knot on the back of his skull that held the cloth in his mouth. He attempted to spit it out, but it had a strong hold on his tongue.

All of a sudden a soft handkerchief caressed his face, feeding his hot skin with cold water; he realized how hot he felt.

"It's okay" a voice whispered. Sam recognized it, but somehow it didn't scare him: this tone was speaking to him gently, as though his stalker was… worried!

Sam carefully, painstakingly lifted his head, but a strong hand helped him. As soon as he saw the emerald irises, his eyes widened.

This was the guy from the club! Sam started panting frightfully from recognition, but it just made his situation worse: strong nausea rose from his stomach. The man immediately placed a bucket in his lap then took the knot from the boy's mouth. Just in time: Sam started violently retching, the contents of his stomach flowing into the bucket.

"Easy" the man gently held Sam's head up during the agonizing procedure. "Your body wasn't reacting too well to the sleeping draught. But now you'll feel better."

Sam tried to speak up, but his sickness completely exhausted him: his eyes drifted shut and he sank into the darkness.


Next time he felt hundred times better waking up. The cloth was still in his mouth, but now it didn't have a knot in the middle. He snapped his tipped-over head up and opened his eyes.

He was definitely not in his house; the room was most likely a cheaper motel room. Then the night occurred to him: his stalker caught him and knocked him out with some kind of a drug! Looking down to himself he noticed his wrists tied to the arms of the chair. As he struggled to loosen the ropes, his straining legs met with difficulties, too. He made an effort to look at them, but his chest was held down by coarse ropes.

Sam tried again to free himself, moaning and crying out from the struggle, but the only result was the chair's answering creaking. Breathing heavily he stopped his futile attempts then other memories broke to the surface. His eyes widened from recognition, just as the door of the motel room opened.

His captor stepped in whistling, carrying some fast food bags. Turning around he noted the boy's awakening with a smile then shut the door with his foot and put his purchases on the table. Sam's stomach rumbled from the godly aromas wafting through the air, tormenting him and his nostrils. He swallowed hard and longing when the man stalked closer to his captive with a cocky half-smile.

Sam tried to scoot back fearfully, but it was useless. The man stood in front of him then leaned on the arms, getting down to the boy's eye level. Sam's instincts acted up without thinking: his head fell back and turned away. The man rubbed against Sam's neck and breathed in his scent deeply. Sam swallowed hard again, but now from terror and his breathing picked up a little speed, starting to shake.

The man's fingers grabbed his victim's chin after straightening some and turned the face towards him. Sam, seeing the other's advancing face, caught on what his captor intended to do. Averting his eyes from the man's, he pulled his chin from the gentle fingers and turned away. The man could only kiss his cheek; Sam closed his eyes against the gathering tears.

"Good morning, my beautiful" the man murmured satisfied. Leaning away Sam caught, as the amber turned to emerald. He frowned in confusion, but the man turned away and walked to the table. He unpacked the food, then shucking off his jacket he bit into the hamburger with relish. Sam made his Adam's apple jump with a longing swallow and the man looked at him. With a grin he pulled a box from one of the bags with salad and another with chicken-breasts and pulling a chair with he sat down in front of the boy.

"I'm sure you're hungry" he noted, as he carefully got the cloth out of his captive's mouth. "I brought your favorite."

"What do you want from me?" Sam asked scared. The man, who busied himself with the boxes, flashed a grin, but hadn't looked like he would answer.

"Well, my beautiful, what are the good manners?" the man looked up, grabbing the plastic fork.

"What?" Sam asked incredulously; he was completely lost: what the heck does he want from him?

"If you want something, you have to say the magic word" the man explained patiently.

Sam was shocked: like he would beg and bow for this bastard! The man waited for a while, but as his captive stayed silent, he sighed sadly. He closed the boxes then standing up he put them on his chair. Getting behind his captive, he took the cloth from the boy's neck and with a firm motion he wedged it in between Sam's teeth. Sam groaned from the strength of the action then from the tightening, when the man made a knot and shook his head a little. His captor then took the food to the table then taking a seat he continued his breakfast.

Sam, watching the man's another big bite from his hamburger, moaned from the strong growl of his stomach, but he was too stubborn to beg to the man. It seemed his captor had feasts for breakfast, because other and other delicious meals were pulled out of the bags.

"Originally I wanted to give you the half of 'em" the man said, guessing Sam's thoughts. "But since you're not willing to cooperate…"

Sam sent a death glare to the man, who just ignored it. The boy couldn't imagine that an elegant, probably intelligent man gifted with an intriguing voice is capable to sink to this level. All of a sudden – though, it should have been expected – the man's hand began to reach towards the boxes offered earlier, so Sam cried out fearfully.

"What is it? What do you want?" his captor asked; his fingers were hanging in the air above the boxes. Sam cried out again, this time a little pleading slipped into his voice. The man slowly stood up, stepped in front of him and took the cloth from his mouth.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked; Sam heard the mockery in the deep voice, but overlooked it. He swallowed hard then quietly but audibly spoke up:

"Can I have some food… please?"

The man smiled triumphantly and took a seat with the boxes in front of the boy to feed him carefully. Sam had never ever felt so humiliated in his life, but he accepted the offered bite without complaint: a bit of chicken breast decorated with a little salad.

"By the way, my name is Dean" the man spoke politely. "What is your name?"

Sam swallowed his mouthful and answered:

"Sam. Sam Morgan."

"Simple, but so beautiful" Dean murmured. Sam blushed at the praise.

"Can I have some water… please?"

Dean brought a glass of water with a smile and helped his captive with a straw.

"Do you want to eat more?" he asked taking a seat again.

"Yes, please." Strangely, Sam said the important magic word more and more easily and that surprised him, too. The breakfast carried on with silence.

As Dean was cleaning up the remaining bags, someone knocked on the door. The man immediately snapped his head up; he blessed his mind that he gagged Sam. Seeing that the boy recognized the opportunity, he hurried to him with nonhuman speed and clasped his hand tightly on Sam's mouth, just before the boy cried out.

"Shhh" Dean stretched the sound until Sam quieted down, but his amber eyes helped with that. As soon as Sam shut up, the man pushed the chair with great force through the open door into the bathroom. Sam jumped from the echo of the door slamming shut.

He heard the TV come on then from the background a conversation floated in. He shouted for help, but he knew it was for no avail: the TV was closer to the bathroom door than the motel entrance.

Shortly the TV was turned off and the door slammed open forcefully, revealing Dean shaking from rage. The man burst in, stalked to the boy and completely unexpectedly slapped him hard. Sam's head snapped to the side, he felt blood oozing out of his nose. He didn't dare to look up, so he jumped when the door slammed shut. When the key turned in the lock, a sob broke out of him. The walls and tiles reverberated his desperate sighs a thousand times. The only light that broke the dimness in the whole room was filtering through the keyhole.


Sam carefully lifted his head up, as he wandered out of the calming darkness of sleep. He slowly opened his eyes and a bit dimmer bathroom greeted him: he didn't even remember falling asleep. As his mind cleared from dozing, voices drifted in through the closed door.

"… I didn't want to hit him" he heard Dean's pleasant tone, which though was shaking hard. "I was just flooded with so much rage that I couldn't stop myself… Maybe I shouldn't have done this…"

"Dean" a silky, caring female voice interrupted the man. "You knew that this would happen. Your senses and emotions are very unstable now, until…"

"I know" Dean exclaimed desperately. "But…"

"No buts" the female voice hadn't even risen, but she could silence Dean like this. "Don't let this little outburst regress your improvement! You're doing so good so far."

A small pause entered the conversation then Dean spoke up again; Sam had to listen really closely this time, if he wanted to hear his words:

"I'm just so scared… I don't want this whole thing go too far… To use THAT punishment on him…"

"Dean" the woman said. "There wasn't any example that someone hadn't gone through that. This is coded into us genetically. But after that their life is easier. And I'm going to help you."

"Really?" Sam's heart split in two halves hearing the childish hope.

"Of course" the encouraging smile was clearly heard in her voice. "You can count on me."

Sam sat in his place completely confused. How could a stranger get this kind of reaction out of him? His stalker? Why does it cause Sam this much pain, that enormous amount of suffering in Dean's voice? And why does he sound familiar to him?

He was pulled out of his musings by the opening door: looking up he was startled by the figure in the doorway. Dean immediately hurried in front of him and fell on his knees. Sam was shocked, when two strong, a bit shaky arms wrapped around him and pulled him down on the man's chest. One hand stroked the boy's locks gently, who would really hug the man back, if his wrists weren't tied down. Sam didn't understand why he was reacting like this to Dean's distress and that made tears gather in his eyes. At that moment Dean pulled away.

"Oh God" the man whispered frightened and tenderly wiped the tears from the other's eyes. "I'm so sorry, please, forgive me, I didn't mean to…"

At last Sam understood the man's behavior: Dean thought the boy wanted to cry from fear. Sam fiercely shook his head, but it seemed that Dean misinterpreted this movement, too, because he started caressing Sam's face with a little panic.

"It's gonna be okay" Dean rushed out constantly and quietly like he was afraid of some kind of a punishment if he can't calm the other one down. Sam then tried to get the cloth out of his mouth with his shoulder. Dean instantly helped him and the boy leaned forward, his head landing on the strong shoulder. The man shakily embraced Sam, who placed his lips to Dean's ears.

"Shh, calm down" Sam shushed the distraught man like a wild animal scared to death. Hearing this Dean relaxed and buried his face into the chestnut brown locks. After a few seconds he pulled away, but avoided eye contact.

"Why don't you take a shower?" he said suddenly and began untying the ropes. "I'm sure you're tired. A little sleep would be good for you" he babbled shakily and let Sam's limbs free. "I'll bring you towels!" With that he jumped up and hurried out.

"I'll go then" the female voice spoke outside as Sam stretched his numb members.

"Alright and thank you" Dean said goodbye then the entrance of the motel room closed. Almost instantly Dean stepped into the bathroom with a towel, a grey T-shirt and dark sweatpants, which he put on the counter. Noticing Sam's wavering posture he rushed to his aid.

"Slowly…" he whispered and holding the boy's elbow he lead him to the shower. "Easy…" reaching their destination Dean stepped to the door. "I'll make your bed while you're getting ready" and he left the room and shut the door.

Sam slowly took off his clothes and stepped into the shower. The water was just the right temperature and it fell down hard, massaging his tired muscles with firm thrums. Sam leaned onto the tiles of the wall to turn, so the water got to every part of his body. Soon he grabbed the soap bar and lathered it up on his skin, attentively cleaning off the dirt and chasing away the unpleasant smell of sweat. After that he indulged in the "free massage" then stepping out he put on the given clothes. His legs were still shaking from holding himself upright, so he approached the door holding onto the wall. As soon as he left the room, Dean appeared next to him and escorted him to the bed. Sam sat down with a relieved sigh on the soft mattress; Dean knelt in front of him and cupped the boy's face in his hands.

"Alright" the man noted. He carefully turned Sam's head to both sides, his emerald orbs thoroughly searching for any possible deformity. Sam nervously watched the older one's actions; regardless of the gentle touches he was scared that the man will get angry. Dean noticed the trembling, so he wrapped up his examination as fast as he could. "Your nose is not broken, thank Heavens" with that he stroke the boy's tresses. "Alright" he stood up satisfied, "lay on the bed!"

Sam looked at him confused as Dean knelt to his bag and started rummaging through it.

"Why?" Sam asked suspiciously. Dean then straightened out and turned towards him: Sam almost started sobbing at the sight of the padded cuffs. The man went back to the boy and putting his stuff on the bed he knelt down again. He gently grasped Sam's quaking hands and slowly caressed the soft skin with a thumb.

"Please" Sam begged quietly; a few tears rolled down his cheeks. "Let me go…"

"No" Dean silenced him in a firm voice. He kindly rubbed away a diamond that traveled down the flushed cheek and he continued with a gentler voice:

"I don't like this either, but I can't let you escape from me. The cuffs are padded so you can rest without pain."

"Please" Sam sobbed broken. "I'll be good I swear…"

"I want to believe you so much, my beautiful" Dean sighed and caressed the brown locks again. Then he slowly reached towards the bed and pulled out a silk cloth from under the cuffs. "Believe me, I'm the last person, who wants to cause you any pain. But there are some things that I have to do, until I can see they're not necessary."

With that the cloth smoothed out on Sam's mouth and got a loose, but secure knot. The boy felt relief wash through him momentarily that the cloth wasn't wedged between his teeth, cutting into his skin, but it held his lips closed firmly. His fresh tears were absorbed by the material as Dean clicked the cuffs on his wrists then helped him lay out on the mattress. Sam didn't dare to fight against his captor, since he got a taste of the horrible rage that can visit him again if he struggled. The other ends of the chains clicked onto the outer bars of the headrest, forcing his arms into a relatively comfortable pose.

Sam at that began sobbing hard, but quietly; his mind was flooded with the recognition that perhaps he'll never see his home again.

"Sleep well" Dean whispered and caressed the boy's face; Sam noticed stunned, even through the veil of his tears, the enormous amount of sadness that ruled the emerald eyes. The man tucked the trembling body in kindly then turned off the lamp and went to bed.

Sam turned his gaze from the other bed and tested his bindings. For a few minutes the room was filled only with metal clinking on metal then as it faded away, quiet sniffs took its place. Sam finally cried himself to sleep.

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