Dean Winchester

Dean had said it before and she'd say it again. Humans, man. It was one thing for a supernatural beastie to go around killing and maiming people, but it was something else entirely for people to be behind it all. Worst thing was, she hadn't had a chance to warn Sam before they got the drop on her. No way to tell him what he was up against. That was assuming he ever actually found her.

No more solo scouting missions. Stupid, stupid fucking thing to do.

God, it was cold. She was in a cellar of some kind. Dark, windowless. The cinder block wall she was chained to was like ice against her bare skin. Her wrists throbbed where the cuffs cut into them and she couldn't feel her fingers any longer. Her bare back was bruised and torn. Her jeans were stained brown with the blood that had soaked in and dried. When they were allowed to remain dry. The bastards liked to douse her with icy water from time to time and watch her shiver.

The water was infinitely preferable to the other various substances she's had thrown at her since she'd been down here... god, how long now?... and the various groping. Hell, at this point, she was just thrilled to still have jeans on.

When she managed to stay conscious, she thought about Sam. Missed him. Occasionally found herself with her throat getting tight and heat in her face. Wouldn't cry, though. Not giving them the satisfaction.

Good. I sleep better with my personal bedwarmer nearby. [She smiled at him as she leaned in, carefully situating her aching body against him. It really did help to cuddle up to Sam. He was so much warmer than she was, generally. The warmth felt good against abused muscles.]

((From here.))