Thanks for checking this out! This will be a pretty intense SLASH story, Dean/Sam but they are not brothers here. Later on there will be some S&M Bondage, lots of torture, and it is actually a romance. Yep, that's right. A romance. Don't think I can pull it off? Let me know! Read and Review!

Summary: Sam Winchester, a young man with a bright future, fiance, and a loving family. However a dangerous figure has taken notice of Sam, and has him locked in his sights. Taken prisoner, Sam endures the punishments, the torture, all the while trying to escape his attacker and return to Jess and his family. But what happens when the dark stranger shows his true colors, beautiful colors? Will Sam want to go back to his old life?

Now then, onto the story!

November 1st 2004.

It was a dark night; the air was chilled with the crisp, clean breeze of fall. Trees had shed their leaves, though a few brown, dry crowns still clung to the bare branches. Fighting to hold on against the wind, before breaking away and tumbling slowly to the ground like all the rest. It had always been one of Sam's favorite seasons, the colors: reds, yellows, oranges and browns, the heat of summer finally lifting. The holiday season not far off, Sam was looking forward to seeing his parents again after a long semester at Stanford. But there was a small air of sadness as he walked back to his apartment. He'd be away from his friends, his life here in Palo Alto, California for three long months.

Sam had worked hard to get where he was; his father, a Navy man, had constantly moved the small family around when Sam was growing up. Sam swapped schools usually twice a year, sometimes more, but never less. He had always been the 'new kid.' No friends, not for very long at least, and no place he could ever adjust to well enough to call home. But he always kept his grades up, knowing he could have a future one day if he worked hard enough- his mother had told him that. And she'd been right. He had a full ride scholarship to law school at Stanford. He had Jessica, his fiancé and the love of his young life, hell he even had a part time job at the coffee shop down the street from the campus.

But he could already see the proud smile on his parent's faces. And he knew that being back with his family would make the three months away from his new home, his friends, Jessica, all so much easier. It was Halloween now, or was, yesterday. And Sam had gotten himself talked into some stupid frat party at one of the fraternity houses. Not that he was against the occasional party, but he was never really big on Halloween. So though he went, he didn't dress for the occasion. Dark wash jeans, a grey t-shirt under a white button down. The sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His somewhat messy hair framing his face as he walked down the street back towards his apartment.

He'd left the party early, knowing he had an interview with the dean in the morning, or, in five hours and thirty eight minutes, to be more exact. He thought to himself, as he looked at his phone for the time, 'I'm going to be so dead tomorrow, it's not even funny.' Sam picked up his pace, not from fear or anything of the sort, but in a hurry to get home so he could crash into his bed for a few hours before getting up and scrambling to make the interview. Though if Sam had any idea of what had been following him for the past two blocks, he should have been terrified.

The young man made it home, unknowingly sentencing himself to a horrible fate. Literally, leading the monster right to his front door. Sam stripped out of his clothes, flopping down on the bed to try and get some sleep. He was almost asleep, the alcohol and exhaustion really taking its toll once he was laid down on the soft silky sheets. The house was quiet, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the wind rustling the curtains being the only sound in the room. Sam's eyes snapped open, looking over at the window across the room, the curtains blowing freely in the cool breeze. Sam was certain he hadn't left the window open. His hazel eyes scanned the darkness in the bedroom, not hearing or seeing anything he got up, closed the window and latched it.

Crawling back into bed he got himself comfortable once more, at last dozing off into some much needed sleep. A pair of beautiful green eyes watching him the entire time. The shadowed figure stepped closer to the bed, tracing his fingertips over the side of Sam's face. Watching him with a certain adoration, almost love in its eyes. The large hand reached out, brushing a lock of Sam's hair back from his face, leaning down and inhaling the sweet wonderful scent that radiated from his skin. It would be impossible to tell what woke Sam, be it the touch to his face or that feeling of someone being right over you, but something startled him from his sleep. His eyes opened, staring up into almost glowing green eyes, even in the darkness their color was flawless.

Sam panicked, swinging his fist hard and connecting squarely with the figure's jaw before he rolled out of his bed, landing on the floor with a loud thud as he struggled to get to his feet. Fists raised he looked back to where the shadowed figure had been standing, silhouetted against the pale glow from the window. There was nothing there; he slowly put his hands down, his face showing the obvious confusion as he scanned the room over once more. Reaching over and turning on the light, the pain in his hand became apparent. Looking down at his hand there was a small cut on his knuckles, from striking a tooth when he swung at the figure. A deep fear sunk into him, he hadn't been dreaming, someone was in the house.

Sam grabbed a baseball bat from behind the door and crept slowly to the closet. Jerking the doors back there was no one there, nothing there but his and Jessica's clothes. Turning around once more to face the rest of the room, the curtains danced freely in the cold wind. The window was open, wide open. Sam shivered, a nervous tingle running down his spine as he closed the window and latched it back. Looking out through the glass for a long moment, watching for any signs of movement in the yard before he grabbed his cell phone, and called the police.

November 4th 2004.

The small cut on Sam Winchester's hand was pretty much healed. But the small mark reminded him all the time of what had happened that night. The police thought he was just drunk and imagining things. There had been no finger prints, no sign of forced entry to the window. Though Sam claimed it had been opened, despite the lock being closed. And no foot prints through the yard to or from the building. Jessica was sympathetic of course, doing her best to comfort Sam while not indulging his fear someone had broken into the apartment and was watching him sleep, touching his face. She didn't really believe him either. But Sam knew he wasn't insane, or drunk and seeing things. He'd hit something, hard, when he swung his fist. And those green eyes, they haunted him constantly.

Pure green eyes, how they seemed to glow- emitting their own light in the dark when he could see nothing else but a black outline of the figure. But Sam tried his best not to think about it. He was doing his all he could to put it behind him, and look forward to seeing his parents again. Next weekend he would be taking an 8 a.m. flight out to Lawrence, Kansas where his mom and dad would be waiting for him at the airport. Mary and John Winchester, despite the rather crappy childhood Sam had he loved both his parents. It wasn't his father's fault he was moved around so much. And his mother, she'd always been so loving, giving her only son everything she could to make him happy. They'd done well too; they'd raised a handsome, intelligent, and kind young man. At the age of 22 Sam was hardly a boy anymore.

Though even the brief relief of thinking about his parents couldn't shake the green eyes from his head for long. Every time he closed his eyes he saw them. Every time he left his house he could swear they were watching him. He'd even woken up a few times in the night feeling that powerful presence standing over him. And every time there was no one there, nothing there. Jessica would stir some and silently, unconsciously cue Sam to lay back down and get some rest. But the feeling wouldn't go away, not even in his sleep. He didn't talk about it anymore, once he told Jessica he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, and she'd patted his arm, hugged him against her and told him everything was alright. He never said another word about it.

At the moment Sam was sitting at the kitchen table in his one bedroom apartment. Jessica was in the shower, he could tell by the sound of water running behind the closed door. Flipping his laptop closed after deciding he was far, far too distracted to get any work done on the last paper of the semester, Sam got up and went to the small living room. Grabbing a beer as he walked past the fridge before flopping down on the couch; and then turning on the TV. After a few moments of sitting there, starring blankly at the news, trying his best to get interested in something, an odd sound reached his ears. Sam muted the television quickly, sitting up straight on the couch as he listened. Even holding his breath to try and catch the noise again.

A soft and gentle crackling, almost soothing to listen too. After a second Sam realized what it was. A fire. The young man was up from the couch instantly, rushing to the kitchen and stopping quickly. The wall diving the bedroom and kitchen was burning, but not entirely a blaze. A pattern of flames danced across the wall, just behind the chair he was sitting in only moments ago. Sam raced to get the kitchen fire extinguisher, the smell of smoke now filling the room up quickly. His hands found the small extinguisher, where it was always kept, on top of the fridge, and he sprayed the white foam all across the wall.

The fire went out easily, and Sam stood there, his chest heaving with each breath as he studied the damage to the wall. The foam drained down to the floor slowly, and as it did, black burned marks showed themselves on the paint. A chill of fear ran down his spine, his hazel eyes looking at the scene before him, but not at all wanting to believe what he was seeing. 'YOU'LL BE MINE.' The flames had burned into the wall, spelling out the short, three word message that put Sam on the brink of tears. He was just sitting there, in the kitchen chair with his back nearly pressed to that wall. How had it just caught into flames that way?

A cold gust of air washed over him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Sam shivered, looking over his shoulder to the wide open window. The green-eyed figure, he'd been here. Just now. But Sam had a certain sense the figure was no longer in the house, that pressing, powerful aura was gone for the moment. A tear rolled down Sam's cheek as Jessica emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her waist and a very worried look in her soft blue eyes. "Sam?" She followed Sam's fixed gaze to the wall and gasped. "Oh my God, Sam." She moved closer to her fiancé, putting a hand on his chest as she looked at the wall along with him. Jessica seemed to be more rational than Sam for the moment though, grabbing the phone from the living room and dialing 911.

November 12th 2004.

After the fire Sam had been pretty much a nervous wreck. Jessica did her best to calm him down, after the fire, and she gave him a bit more credit when he told her he felt like he was being watched. But there was nothing she could do. Sam's usual bright, smiling personality was gone, and it frightened her to see him so terrified. The feeling of being watched hadn't let up a bit, those green eyes, he could still picture them perfectly. Only now each time he closed his eyes he saw the flames lapping behind those emerald irises. That was why they had glowed the way they did, he was sure of it. The figure was filled with fire.

Jessica tried to talk some rational sense into him, assuring Sam it was just some weirdo. They'd gotten an alarm system put in the house, and for the next two days after the fire the police had sat out front of the building, watching for anyone suspicious coming or going. But no one saw anything. Of course not. Sam was alone tonight, occupying himself with packing for his flight in the morning. He hadn't told his parents about what had been happening. But he was so glad to be able to get away for a while, three months, in Kansas. Three long, stalker-free months. Certainly the shadowed figure couldn't find him there. Those green eyes couldn't watch him there.

Jessica had left that morning, leaving their small apartment on the Stanford campus to go and visit her own family. Sam assured her he'd be fine for one night. He was flying out in the morning after all. Sam was folding up his jeans, making sure they were nice and flat before laying them down in the large black suit case. Grabbing the next pair from the large chest of drawers he turned back to the suitcase. Seeing the curtains dancing about in the breeze sent a chill down his spine. Sam froze, his hands gripping tightly onto the dark denim jeans. His knuckles bleeding white.

That familiar presence flooded over him, strong, intimidating, powerful. He trembled as he stepped back, intending to put his back to the wall so no one could sneak up on him. As he backed up, expecting the dresser to be behind him he hit a warm, hard body behind him. Sam froze once more, his chest rising and falling heavily, frozen in fear. The only sound in the room was the clock ticking and the pounding of Sam's heart in his chest. A strong set of arms wound their way around Sam's middle. Pinning Sam's arms securely at his sides. The young man dropped the pair of jeans in his hands, his jaw clenched tight. "Let me go, and leave me alone." He said firmly.

A shiver ran up the young man's spine as he felt warm breath at the back of his neck. The dark figure nuzzled his face in the back of Sam's neck, inhaling deeply the sweet and wonderful scent. "Don't be afraid beautiful, I would never hurt you." A deep voice whispered softly in his ear. Sam pulled hard against the intruder's grip around him, but it felt like those arms were steel bands, and they didn't give at all. The figure behind him laughed softly. "Come on now, you didn't think I'd let you leave me Sammy? You're mine, I can't let you leave." It spoke, the voice low and calm, and strangely not as threatening as Sam had imagined it would be.

None the less he struggled, throwing his head back to try and hit the other in the face. He missed though, and one hand let go of him long enough to grab a cloth from the figure's coat pocket. Bringing it up to cover Sam's nose and mouth, he held it firm despite Sam's struggles. Slowly the fight drained out of him, those hazel eyes fluttered close and then, at last, his knees grew weak. The dark figure caught him with ease, lifting up the boy from the floor before vanishing with Sam into the night. No signs of struggle, no signs of forced entry, no finger prints, leaving the alarm still armed.

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