Sam was lying on the bed motionless, exactly like his captor left him there. He got scared so much from the wild treatment that his instincts took over his body: he heard and saw everything and couldn't do anything about that. He never thought that kind of a wounded, fearful sound could come out of his mouth. He tried to stop his shaking but to no avail: his body didn't obey his mind's order. All he could think about was not angering his captor… his dominant!
All of a sudden Dean turned him on his back; the boy's members were numb from fright and they flopped almost lifelessly. The man kindly wiped down the tears from the deathly pale cheeks and the widened eyes. He carefully pulled Sam onto his feet and escorted him into the farthest corner, so that nobody can see them from the door then sat the boy down to the floor.
Sam looked up fearfully; it seemed he found out what was going to happen. Dean caressed the dear face; his heart almost broke from the teary puppy-dog-eye look, which Sam sent his way.
"Stay here!" he ordered quietly and stood up, causing Sam to whimper. Dean stepped to his duffel and began rummaging through it, while Sam began whining again like a sad puppy that was physically suffering from the "cold shoulder" directed its way. The amount of plea in his voice made the man to shut his eyes to recompose himself. How could a person reduce to a that vulnerable state? Suddenly Dean's fingers wrapped around the object he was searching for and he straightened out with it.
Sam was still watching the man with wide teary eyes; he saw a roll of duct tape in Dean's hands, when the man turned back. Dean knelt beside the boy and placed the tape on the ground then reached towards the boy.
"Give me your hand!" he ordered in a quiet, but firm voice. Sam looked back at him stunned then came to his senses and shook his head violently.
"No!" he said and pulled his hands on his lap against his stomach.
"Now!" Dean raised his voice slightly, but the boy just shook his head – again. The man's patience started waning and he grabbed the shaking fingers. At his touch the trembling traveled through Sam's body, but Dean just tenderly held the two limbs.
"You're getting punished" Dean started softly, but the discipline peeked out from time to time in his voice, "because you tried to escape from me. If you want a carefree life, you have to accept the rules."
"But I…" Sam began – he felt like a child who his father wants to discipline – but Dean interrupted him:
"Silence!" the man didn't even raise his voice, but the boy instantly bowed his head and shut his mouth.
"I know that I hadn't described the rules to you and that is my fault. But a serious act like this I can't disregard without consequences. Understood?"
Sam gave small, rapid nods; tears slid down and fell to the floor from between his tresses hanging into his eyes.
"As a result of my mistake I will reduce your punishment, but as an escape is a very serious act, I can only do it minimally."
Finishing his speech he started pulling Sam's hands towards himself, but Sam's will to fight raised its head: the boy tried to twist his arms from the grip. Amid his struggles his gaze wandered up, straight into the man's eyes: Dean's irises flashed dangerously. At that, hard sobs broke out of the boy, while his members slackened, accepting defeat against the stronger one. Dean's fingers wrapped around Sam's wrists, but he didn't do anything: it seemed he waited for the boy to calm down.
Soon Sam began hiccuping and sniffling and the man carefully, holding the quivering jaw guided the hazel gaze to his emerald one.
"I am so sorry" he whispered and lowered his hand back around the boy's wrist. With a sigh Dean started the process.
He turned the two arms, so the upper half of the hands lay on each other, and then he slowly started rolling them, until the palms met minimally. An uncomfortable grimace flew across Sam's face, disappearing as quickly as it came. After that Dean pulled the two arms tighter so the fingers touched and he threaded them. Finally he tugged at the arms one last time, breaking a cry from Sam: the fingers touched each other completely, three quarter of the skin on the palms laid against each other. Dean held the limbs securely, careful not to let them move; his inner beast almost purred at the sight of the protruding bones teasing him in the elbows.
He freed one of his hands and with the help of his teeth he started the fresh duct tape, filling the room with loud ripping sounds. First he wrapped Sam's wrists with the thick tape and he moved downwards, covering the hands tightly, not leaving an inch of the skin uncovered. After that he moved back upwards to the elbows, wrapping the arms tightly. Sam shed more tears from the pressure and whimpered painfully non-stop.
Dean then ripped off a piece of tape and smoothed it onto the boy's mouth then crossed Sam's ankles and tied them down up to the middle of his calves. Sam watched the man's work terrified, but his panting moved his arms, sending an electric-like shock of pain through them. Dean glanced up at his captive, who immediately noticed the misery in the glittering emeralds.
All of a sudden another crack signed that the procedure wasn't over, however, the tape was closing in on the boy's eyes. Sam moaned a frightened protest, but the darkness already fell onto his sight. He felt the tape run around his head once and stop behind his ear.
"I'm sorry" Dean whispered once more then after another crack the tape covered one of his ears and went across his eyes to the other ear, running around his skull like this a few times. At the end Sam didn't hear anything, just his own panting, fast heartbeats and whimpering. Suddenly strong hands started to tilt his body, scaring him. He tried to hold onto something, but as soon as he moved his arms, the pain stabbed into them. He was whimpering fearfully, not knowing what is going on around him. Soon his side hit a hard surface and his head was pulled down by the gravitation. The hands disappeared and he felt strong, short shakes, not long after that the wall his back was leaning against shook with a stronger quake. Sam had a feeling that this was some kind of finality, leaving the great nothingness behind. He instantly understood what's happening: Dean left… left him alone… at the mercy of anybody…
Sam heard in the darkness as his heartbeats almost doubled from panic with his breathing. What the fuck is going on? Why had Dean left him like this? How did he deserve this?
And then he realized: this was his punishment, because he wanted to escape! If this is reduction, then he didn't dare imagine the full one… His breathing halted abruptly: Dean tried to protect him from this! This method, the feeling of vulnerability tames the victim in the quickest and most efficient way. Almost minimal sensing of the outside world, cutting off the most important ones: the hearing and the sight. Dean wanted to lure Sam towards himself, instead of forcing him into obedience.
'IDIOT, FUCKING MORON!' his logic screamed. 'WHAT THE FUCKING HELL WERE YOU THINKING?' Sam started sobbing as he realized his stupidity, but his tears couldn't escape from under the tape, just like he couldn't escape from here. For a long time – maybe hours or maybe just minutes – he cried then exhaustion attacked him and he fell asleep.
As Sam clawed his way out of the dreamless dark, the tape shutting his mouth muffled a scream. His arms practically burned in the hellfire of pain. His not so awake mind urged him to call for help, but after a while he found out it was useless. He tried to move his paralyzed arms, but the flames shot up right away, spitting a couple of live coals into his head. He began panting for air through his nose to push down his torments and attempted to open his eyes, but the latter one failed miserably. At that moment everything rushed back into his mind.
He wondered whether he is still in the same place, where he was left. The carpet was the same rough material as in the motel and his back was still leaning against the wall. Every member that was tied down by Dean before the man left was still in its bindings, his senses still met with hindrance. As he checked himself over, he noticed the pain in his arms was slowly ebbing away, his heart rate and breathing slowed down, although they were still much quicker than the normal.
He started shifting carefully but he hadn't met any resistance yet. He couldn't lower his arms, though he could bend them some. With a quick idea he began rubbing the tape to the carpet, first slowly then gradually picking up speed. His hands grew hot from friction, but the tape didn't give. After a seemingly long while the resonation of the floor and the wall halted his progress. He completely lost his sense of time so he didn't know how long he was occupied with his work.
Jerking violently he panted wildly and whimpered: a hand touched his arm. He scooted backwards into the wall and waited for his doom trembling uncontrollably. The hand laid on him again, but it started kindly stroking him. After a few strokes Sam felt a strange thing: one finger slowly ran on his bicep in odd forms non-stop. Paying attention to it the forms became these:
"E" "A" "R" "N" "O" "F"
He understood it straight away: "NO FEAR"
Sam slowly relaxed then nodded his assent. New forms came then: "WATER?"
He nodded swiftly without delay: maybe he can get a chance to speak up. The tape was removed from his mouth carefully and the end of a straw ran across his lips. Sam immediately opened up, giving way for the plastic and he drank the liquid with a relieved sigh, until the straw shook, signing the empty glass. The straw was pulled from him, but before he could say something, the duct tape shut him up. He began whining pitifully and pleadingly, but the resonation started up again and the quake of the wall silenced the room.
Sam quickly started screaming - maybe someone will hear him - but for "hours" help hadn't come. After a long, angry self-reprimand a small pain stabbed into his belly: his stomach was pleading for attention. The strong, almost torturing growl brought tears in his eyes: after all this, it's highly unlikely that he would be given any food. For a long while – and this really felt long – he was shifting from the screaming hunger until he was consumed by exhaustion.