So sorry everybody for the delay. Work has been insane and left me very little time to write. I have not given up on this story! Please let me know what you think. Also I will be re-uploading this chapter and the others in a while to fix some edits. This is the FIRST draft of this chapter, I did not even proof read it, just to get it up faster for you guys. So sorry for any errors.

November 15th 2004.

Sam laid there on his back, as if he had any choice in the matter, the terror obvious in his hazel eyes. Dean's strong presence was bearing down on him; it felt as if the sheer weight of the world was pressing down against the young man's chest. Sam trembled in fear, he felt like he couldn't breathe, like he would suffocate under Dean's aura. And, as if Dean could read the thoughts running through his head, he ran a gentle hand along the side of Sam's face. His hands were unusually warm, so was his breath as it fanned over Sam's neck. "Breathe little Sammy, it's alright." Dean whispered to him, and the young man gasped in a breath of crisp cool air, only now realizing he had truly not been breathing.

"What do you want from me you sick son of a bitch?" Sam asked, his voice tight as he felt the sharp sting of tears burning in his eyes. His jaw clenched tight, gritting his teeth together and trying to hold a strong resolve. In the dark, he couldn't see anything but those shining green eyes, yet he could somehow feel that Dean was smiling down at him. He could somehow sense the softness and the adoration in those eyes as he was studied closely, and after a moment, all of that softness and care was coursing through his veins. He could feel that pressing, powerful aura filling him with that sense of care, and devotion. But none the less, he was terrified.

"I don't want anything but you Sammy. I've waited so long for you, my entire life I've been waiting Sam. And now I have you, that's all I will ever want." Dean cooed back to him. Sam shivered visibly, to Dean's keen eyes at least, as Dean's full lips brush against his ear when he spoke. Those glowing green orbs, shining as if they truly did emit their own light, could see perfectly in the pitch darkness. Dean could see every fine detail of Sam's handsome face; where Sam was left blinded. Sam jerked his head to the side, struggling, pulling once more against the cuffs on his wrists.

But this only seemed to please Dean more, as Sam felt the other man's body hovering so close over him, nuzzling his face into the side of Sam's neck. Dean hummed low in his throat, a sound that brought another shiver up Sam's spine, as he basked in the wonderful, sweet scent of his Sammy. The young man was trembling now, under the touch of his captor, fear coursing wildly through his veins. That deep voice broke the silence in the room again, getting another sharp flinch from Sam as that mint-whiskey breath flooded over him.

"My baby boy, try and relax. I wont hurt you, I am so sorry for what I did before, you didn't understand the rules and therefore didn't deserve the punishment. I was just upset, that's all. It wasn't your fault." A tear rolled down Sam's face, running down the side of his cheek until it landed on the pillow, making a small, perfectly round spot on the fabric. Sam shivered again, gritting his teeth from the feeling; the distinct brush of a long, slow kiss to his neck.

"Please, let me go. Just let me go and I won't tell anyone what happened. I just want to go home." Sam pleaded with the other man once more, only to have a finger placed gently against his lips.

"Shh, it's alright. Get some rest my beautiful. I'm going to make you something to eat in the morning, and then we'll talk, alright?" Dean answered him, in the same rough, soft tone. Sam could almost feel it in his chest, the deep vibrations of Dean's voice, as their bodies were hardly an inch apart. And then just like that, the crushing feel of power was gone. Dean was gone, leaving Sam alone in the darkness as he quickly fell to tears. Sobbing silently, with his eyes closed tight. Sam repeated his prayer for help, over and over, into the deep silence.

November 16th 2004.

Sam wasn't sure what time it was, or hell, even what day it was when he woke up. He hadn't even been aware he'd fallen asleep, but apparently he had. As he blinked his eyes open, and into focus, a soft green light flooded into the room from the window to his left, giving Sam a chance to look over the place he had spent the night in. The bed sat in the center of the room, against one wall, a door sat directly across from him, closed. Hard wood floors matched the dark, bare wood paneling of the walls. 'This is definitely a cabin.' He thought to himself. 'I'm probably miles out into the woods in the middle of fuckin' no where.'

A small table sat to the right of the bed, an older looking lamp with a pale yellow shade and the red rubber-ball gag sat upon it. The sight of the rubber ball, his teeth marks embedded deeply into it brought back so many fresh, raw memories, but he forced himself to look away. At the far end of the room sat a worn wooden chest, it looked old, but Sam paid more attention to his large black suit case that lay on the floor beside it. Sam looked to his wrists now, still bound to the head board of the bed with dark leather cuffs. Now he could see the padding under them, thick gauze pads were bandaged around the self-inflicted wounds on his wrists.

Sam sat in silence for a long moment, his ears straining to hear any other signs of life in the small cabin. But the only thing to reach his ears was the merry chatter of birds outside. Their sweet songs so contrastingly different from the horrible nightmare Sam was living. Glancing out the window, the slant of the land told him clearly that they were in the mountains somewhere. Sam listened to the little birds sing for a long time, his eyes starring out the four-paned window at the green leaves of the trees, fighting back the tears trying to well in his eyes. He refused to cry anymore, no, if he was going to get out of this alive, he had to stay strong.

But his newfound resolve crumbled quickly as he heard the door click and then swing open with a slow creak. Dean came in, a pale grey t-shirt covering a flawless, well muscled chest. Dark wash jeans hung low on his hips, and in his hands, he carried a white wooden tray. The smell of food hit Sam next, along with that powerful presence that Dean seemed to carry with him all the time. Sam's face flushed red, as his stomach made a loud, long rumble in response to the sweet smell of maple syrup and bacon. Dean only smiled as he came over to the bed were Sam was helplessly bound, and set the tray down on the edge of the bed. The younger man couldn't help but look over at the array of food that sat upon it.

Waffles, three of them, laced over with sweet maple syrup and honey. Eggs over medium with a bit of black pepper sprinkled over the top, just the way Sam liked. A generous side of bacon and a tall glass of milk sat beside a long-stem vase that held a single, beautiful, red rose. Swallowing thickly, Sam looked up to Dean, who was watching him with care and content. Dean reached over, and Sam closed his eyes tightly, only to feel Dean fluffing the pillow under his head before speaking.

"Good morning beautiful. I know you're hungry. I made your favorites." Dean spoke softly as he sat down beside Sam on the bed, pulling the tray into his own lap.

"Get the hell away from me, now, you sick freak." Sam said firmly, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes narrow as they opened to look up at the other man. He was determined not to let his man get the pleasure and satisfaction of seeing him cry, or seeing that fear well up in those beautiful hazel eyes.

"Sammy, I want you to eat, and then if you want me to leave you be, I will." The man replied, his tone just as soft and gentle as it was before Sam had thrown those insults at him. Sam looked from Dean to the tray of food, he couldn't deny he was hungry, but he didn't want to degrade himself by taking food from his captor like some kind of dog. As if Dean knew what he was thinking, he spoke again. "Darlin' I hate having to keep you locked up here as well. But until I trust you won't run from me, it has to be this way. Please, eat."

Dean took the clean silver fork from the tray, cutting off a small bite of the waffles with the side before holding it out to Sam's lips, waiting for the poor boy to open his mouth, though Sam just clenched his jaw tight. "Come on Sammy, you need to eat." Dean pleaded, and as if to second that, Sam's stomach growled loudly. Reluctant, and degraded as he was, Sam gave into his hunger, and opened his mouth- taking the first bite of warm, freshly baked waffles. And it was wonderful, sweet, and buttery. After that he ate as quickly as Dean would feed him. And for a few minutes, he forgot exactly what was going on, forgot the bindings on his wrists, the fact he was held against his will, all of it was gone as he focused on the food. His favorites, cooked exactly how he liked.

Sam was jarred out of his momentary reprieve when he opened his mouth for another bite and no food came. Glancing over at the tray he realized the plate was empty, he'd eaten everything, and finished the tall glass of milk. Snapping his mouth closed, he looked up at Dean, his eyes hard, and cold, trying to mask the fear and vulnerability he was feeling. Dean smiled, brushing his hand along the side of Sam's face. "There, that has to feel better. Sammy I would love to let you get up, and come watch a movie in the living room. Will you behave yourself?"

It took Sam a moment, did he take the offer and behave himself? No, he'd get himself untied from this bed and he'd beat Dean into the ground. He had to get out of here. Or at least that's what his mind was screaming as he hesitantly nodded his head, and watched as Dean slowly released his wrists from their bindings. Though only for a moment, before he locked the two leather cuffs together in front of Sam's body. Dean helped Sam up, a guiding hand on his shoulder as he led the young man out into the living room. Sam sat down on the far end of the sofa, his heart racing in his chest as he tried to decided on what he would do. Should he try and run?

His thoughts were cut short as Dean sat down close beside him, flicking the TV on with the remote before putting his arm around Sam's shoulders, pulling the young man close against his side. Sam shivered, though Dean was incredibly warm, too warm, he wanted so badly to lean away, to kick and bite and scream, to get away from here, as far away as he could. But Sam did nothing, paralyzed either by fear, or by Dean's overwhelming, overpowering aura of care, and softness, and love?

The TV was on in the background, and Sam's eyes stared at it blankly. Though his ears could only hear the intense pounding of his heart and the thrum of his pulse, and his mind was focused solely on Dean's closeness. He couldn't ignore the warmth of Dean's body that pressed against his side, and the distinct feel of Dean's soft, smooth lips against his neck. Dean trailed slow, soft kissed up Sam's neck to his ear, before nuzzling his face against the side of Sam's head, breathing in that wonderful, distinct scent of his Sammy.

Sam sat frozen, afraid that if he moved he'd be killed. Dean on the other hand, showered him in kisses and soft touches, his hands tracing up and down the hard muscle of Sam's bicep, simply trying to get him to relax. After a long moment, Dean let out a small sigh, both arms coming around Sam, and shifting with him so Sam leaned back against his chest. His fingers stroked lightly through the young man's hair as he spoke. "I know you're scared Sammy, I know you want to go home. Believe me, I understand. And I understand we need to talk about a lot of things. Just, try to relax Sammy, and I'll explain everything."

Slowly, Sam forced the muscles in his body to loosen, forcing his jaw to unclench as he nodded his head some, his eyes still locked on the TV, though his mind was a million miles away. "Fine then, explain yourself." Sam said his tone sharp and rough, brimming with tears as he felt another kiss to the top of his head.

Dean hesitated a moment before responding, "First of all-"

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