Magnetic

Praying For Help

Sleep was not happening, not with the mice continually running over your feet, or the cold that had seeped into your body, keeping you frozen and shivering. "I shouldn't have opened my mouth." You said through chattering teeth, knowing you could have been back in that ritzy room waiting for Sam and Dean to rescue you. 

Instead, here you were, who knows where, in the dark, cold and afraid. You had never come across anything like this during your time hunting, and it scared you. Especially since you had no way of contacting the Winchesters, and they were off looking for a fancy motel room. That is, if they even cared enough about you to look. They could be lounging in their bunker, clicking beers together, thankful that Crowley had gotten you out of their way.

"Please, someone help me." You kept praying over and over in your head, knowing it was useless, but not knowing what else to do. As your body shivered uncontrollably, the heavy wooden door opened, and in walked Crowley, with a man pushing a small table behind him. On the table was a lantern, illuminating the blood covered walls of your surroundings. "Am I in hell?" You asked him, as he stood there looking down at you.

"Of course not. This is just my little slice of hell topside. It's where I do the majority of my business." He said, before making your heart skip a beat as he picked up a wicked looking knife. "Now, let's get down to business shall we?"

"What do you even want from me?" You screamed at him, standing up on shaking legs. The other man just stood to the back, his eyes black as he watched impassively. 

Crowley ran his finger along the blade, before giving you a wicked smile. "Well you see, that's changed a little. At first I thought you would make a wonderful addition down here. Maybe even the queen to my king. But I grew tired of your attitude in that motel room."

"So now what?" You asked as he took a step closer to you, the knife gleaming in his hands. 

"Now what, I'm not sure. I'm still drawn to you, but maybe it's more because you were with the Winchesters. I have something they want, and that's big, in my books. So maybe I'll just use you to tone my torture skills, keeping both you and me off of their radar for a while. You see, I know you talked to them when you were in that room. So they are going to be looking for a fancy hotel room, not some dungeon room in the bottom of a run down mansion." He told you before clicking his fingers together and cuffs magically appeared on your wrists, pulling you tight to the wall behind you. "I really do hate marring that beautiful skin, but I think it will be worth it. And then if Dean does get you back, it won't be the real you. It will be some sort of shell, tortured and broken. And how perfect will that be?"

You did the only thing you could think of, you spat in his face, watching as your spit dripped down his chin, before sliding down the fancy black suit of his. With a scowl on his face, he procured an apron, protecting the rest of his suit. "You will pay for that, my love."

You thought it was ironic, the man who was getting ready to carve your body calling you love, but the thought fled your mind as soon as you felt the cold steel blade slice through your shirt, nicking the skin by your collarbone. Even though you were a hunter, you had stayed away from this type of pain, and you couldn't help the scream that left your mouth. "This could be fun." Crowley gloated, before pulling the knife back and slicing you across your arm.

You lost track of how many times he sliced you, how many times he plunged that knife deep into the meaty parts of your body. You could feel the blood trickling down your body, pooling on the floor below you, making your steps slippery. Crowley talked to you as he worked, telling you of his plan to break you, completely, then leave the pieces for him to try and put together. You kept pleading, telling him he was wasting his time, that Dean didn't care for you that much.

After what seemed like a week of torture, Crowley finished, pulling his blade back from your skin, before turning back to the table. "This is something new I've thought up. You see, my mother was a witch, and she taught me some of her spells before she decided to run off. It's a new form of torture, one that messes with the brain. I thought you would be the perfect participant." He said, holding up a long, horrifying needle. Without another word, he shoved it into your arm, injecting a metallic purple substance into your bloodstream. "Sleep tight." He said, before releasing you from your cuffs. Falling to the floor, you watched as the door was once again shut, leaving you in darkness. 

"I don't know if anyone can hear me, but please help me!" You kept praying over and over in your mind. "Please, I'm in the dungeon of some sort of mansion. Please help." You prayed, even though you knew it was helpless. Whatever it was that Crowley injected into you was quickly spreading through your system, making you woozy. Laying in your puddle of blood, you saw flashes of light in your little cell, voices bouncing off of the stone walls.

"Y/N, where are you?" Dean's voice called, and you thought you saw him peering through the door.

"Dean, help me!" You screamed, surprised when he was able to walk right through the door without opening it. His form seemed hazy, and he flitted in and out of view, before coming to stand by you.

"Y/N, what are you doing with Crowley?" He asked, holding his hand up like he was going to comfort you. 

"Dean, you came for me." You mumbled through cracked lips, just before his hand came forward, slapping your cheek hard enough to slam your head back against the wall.

"Yeah, I came to help Crowley, not you." He chuckled, before holding out his knife and stabbing you in the chest. Waiting for the pain, it never came, and Dean vanished. With tears in your eyes, the same vision happened over and over again, each time Dean killing you a different way, with a maniacal laugh. 

Tucking yourself into as tight of a ball as you could, you pressed your eyes tightly to your arms, trying to keep the vision of an evil Dean from your mind as you sobbed uncontrollably. But whatever potion Crowley had given you was strong, and it grew stronger with time. Soon you weren't sure what was real, and what was part of the visions. Including the voice in your head promising they were on their way to rescue you.