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Apr. 1st, 2007 09:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gavemea_45Eventually, he regains consciousness. Sam stifles his groan with an effort, one hand going up to gingerly touch the lump on the back of his head as he looks around.
It's a cage. He's in a cage. Sam scrambles to his knees, then to his feet, half-crouching because there's not room enough to stand. He wraps his hands around the bars, rattling them. Steel rebar and iron strips, he finds-- interwoven back and forth in a criss-cross pattern and evidently strong enough to hold a bear.
"There's no way this can be good," Sam mutters, and sets about trying to kick the door off its hinges.
Some minutes later he drops back to the ground in frustration, and it's then he hears the low moan from across the way. Sam moves to the other side of his cage, looking over at the stirring form of an older man in a cage like his own.
"Hey-- you're Jenkins, aren't you? You okay?"
"Yes, I am-- and what kind of idiot question is that? Does it look like I'm doin' okay?" Jenkins snaps.
Sam winces. "Okay, good point. Where are we?"
Jenkins shakes his head. "Country, I think. Smells like country, anyway. How'd you know my name?"
"We were looking for you--" Jenkins cuts Sam off there with a snort.
"No offense, but this is a piss-poor rescue you've got going."
Sam shakes his head and says, "It'll be okay. My brother Dean's out there right now, looking for us--"
"Boy, we're in the middle of nowhere. No one's gonna find--"
"Yes, he will," Sam interrupts. "Dean'll find us."
He holds stubbornly to that thought through the next several hours.
Dean will find us.
Their captors come and go, leaving food for them. Sam ignores it, and busies himself in trying to pull some sort of weapon or at least a piece of metal from the only thing he can reach through the bars.
He'll find us.
After another hour or so, the door to the other cage opens. Jenkins scrambles out instantly, calling back,
"I'll send help for you, boy."
Sam stretches an arm through the bars, trying to catch at his sleeve. "No, wait-- Jenkins, it's too easy, it's got to be a trap--"
The other man doesn't listen, but pushes the door open and leaves. Sam goes back to trying to pick the lock to his own cage with a wire from the small metal coil that he's finally managed to tear down.
It's not long before he hears the agonized screaming, and knows he was right.
No. No. Dean will find me.
"He'll find me," Sam mutters to himself, prying desperately at the lock. "He'll find me. I know he will."
He's just no longer sure it'll be in time.
It's a cage. He's in a cage. Sam scrambles to his knees, then to his feet, half-crouching because there's not room enough to stand. He wraps his hands around the bars, rattling them. Steel rebar and iron strips, he finds-- interwoven back and forth in a criss-cross pattern and evidently strong enough to hold a bear.
"There's no way this can be good," Sam mutters, and sets about trying to kick the door off its hinges.
Some minutes later he drops back to the ground in frustration, and it's then he hears the low moan from across the way. Sam moves to the other side of his cage, looking over at the stirring form of an older man in a cage like his own.
"Hey-- you're Jenkins, aren't you? You okay?"
"Yes, I am-- and what kind of idiot question is that? Does it look like I'm doin' okay?" Jenkins snaps.
Sam winces. "Okay, good point. Where are we?"
Jenkins shakes his head. "Country, I think. Smells like country, anyway. How'd you know my name?"
"We were looking for you--" Jenkins cuts Sam off there with a snort.
"No offense, but this is a piss-poor rescue you've got going."
Sam shakes his head and says, "It'll be okay. My brother Dean's out there right now, looking for us--"
"Boy, we're in the middle of nowhere. No one's gonna find--"
"Yes, he will," Sam interrupts. "Dean'll find us."
He holds stubbornly to that thought through the next several hours.
Dean will find us.
Their captors come and go, leaving food for them. Sam ignores it, and busies himself in trying to pull some sort of weapon or at least a piece of metal from the only thing he can reach through the bars.
He'll find us.
After another hour or so, the door to the other cage opens. Jenkins scrambles out instantly, calling back,
"I'll send help for you, boy."
Sam stretches an arm through the bars, trying to catch at his sleeve. "No, wait-- Jenkins, it's too easy, it's got to be a trap--"
The other man doesn't listen, but pushes the door open and leaves. Sam goes back to trying to pick the lock to his own cage with a wire from the small metal coil that he's finally managed to tear down.
It's not long before he hears the agonized screaming, and knows he was right.
No. No. Dean will find me.
"He'll find me," Sam mutters to himself, prying desperately at the lock. "He'll find me. I know he will."
He's just no longer sure it'll be in time.
