Sex, Drugs, and Rock 'n Roll (SPN FanFic)

Prologue

This will be a short story hope you enjoy

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Charlie Archer was not a man who was easy to shock.

Waking up somewhere he didn't remember falling asleep wasn't really anything new. Waking up knowing that he'd had sex that he didn't remember was more common than it should be. Waking up with a hangover that he didn't remember earning was pretty normal.

But waking up with his hands tied above his head – hanging from the ceiling with his toes barely brushing the floor – was completely new.

He lifted his head slowly, unsurprised that it felt so much heavier than it usually did but still wincing at the stabbing pain that flared to life behind his eyes. He blinked a few times, hoping to clear the fuzzy edges from his vision, but it did no good. He still saw only vague and blurry shapes and colors that he'd associate with a basement, a shaft of light coming in through a narrow window high in the wall behind him, and nothing else.

He had no idea where he was, how he'd gotten there, or who he'd gone with, which bothered him a little. His shirt and shoes were missing, and his jeans were low on his hips, like they were unbuttoned, which bothered him more. His head was cold, and when he rubbed it against his arm it felt like his hair wasn't there anymore, which bothered him quite a bit. Then there was the whole tied up and hanging from the ceiling thing, which bothered him a whole hell of a lot.

But he had to have been willing to do this at some point, right? He'd thought about it before, the whole bondage thing, but he'd never actually done it. He just had to have gotten it into his drunken head that this was a good idea. This was just an adventure game that had gone on a bit too long, and any minute someone, hopefully someone he recognized, would come let him down. And if he was lucky, they'd do it soon, because the more awake and alert his mind became, the more he realized just how much pain he was in.

The only parts of his arms that didn't hurt were his hands, and that was only because they were so numb he couldn't feel them at all. When he tipped his head back a bit further, he could see that they were a rather gross shade of purple and were horribly swollen, and he found himself grateful that he didn't feel it. His wrists, though... they hurt like hell. He could see them, too, see how the thick rope coiled tightly around and between them had cut into his skin as he'd hung there, for who knew how long, with all of his weight pulling down on them. He could see the streaks of blood that had run down his arms and dried there. The muscles in his arms were stretched so tight that they felt like they were about to snap, and his shoulders felt like they already might have.

He lowered his head again, careful not to jar it, and looked down. The blood on front of his unbuttoned jeans was another surprise, until he saw the strange scratches that covered his chest and stomach.

Were those... were those claw marks?

He could feel more blood dripping from the side of his head and running down his face, and the sting of what felt like cat scratches on his back. His mouth was so dry that there was almost no spit for him to swallow, and when he licked his lips, he found them cracked and bleeding. He coughed to clear his throat, flinched from the headache that reared back up, and looked toward what he hoped was the outline of a door.

"Hello?" 

The sound of his own voice surprised him, not because he'd spoken but because of how wrong it sounded. Slurred, broken, cracked and weak, and there was no way anyone could hear him. He drew as deep a breath as his tortured shoulders and constricted chest would allow and tried again.

"Hello? Is someone here? Can someone... anyone hear me?"

He thought he saw the door opening, but it wasn't much more than a shifting shadow that might or might not have been real. It didn't make any noise that he could hear, but he figured that with everything else going on and the hangover raging behind his eyes, it was pretty likely that his ears weren't working right, either.

"Hello?" he said uncertainly.

"Hello, Charlie."

He recognized the voice as one he'd heard before, which would make sense if he'd actually had sex with this person the night before, but he couldn't immediately place it. With his eyes still not cooperating, the only visual assessment he could manage was that the person standing in front of him was shorter than he was and had long black hair. The voice told him it was probably a woman, but knowing himself the way he did, he had to admit that he couldn't really take that for granted. 

He had no idea who this person was.

He forced himself to smile in the person's general direction. "Hey there... you." Well, that didn't come out half as sexy or smooth as he'd wanted it to. "How are you this morning?"

"Better than you are." Now, that was a sexy voice. Smooth but rough, soft but strong, it made him think, of all things, of the purr of a lion. Fingertips pressed against his chest just hard enough for him to realize they were there, then started running up and down his ribs.

"Yeah, we really... we really got up to something last night, did we?" And damn it, why couldn't he remember exactly what that was? Sure, he was used to waking up with a few blank spots, but he'd almost always remembered within a few minutes.

"Yes, we did," the voice answered. "Or, rather, I did."

The fingers were rougher now, pressing harder into his skin, and he squirmed a bit in discomfort.

"So, did we have..." He paused long enough for his mind to catch up with the rest of him. Sure, he'd thought about it, but he'd never really learned the terminology. "We have one of those safe word things?"

The person in front of him made a sound from deep in their throat, one that Charlie couldn't identify as either a yes or no. It actually sounded kind of like a growl.

"Because, ya know, I'm still kinda... kinda mixed up here, baby. And if we had one, I don't remember it."

"Aw." The disappointed reaction was coupled with a hard tug on the waistband of his jeans that pulled them down just a little lower on his hips. He had this feeling that he was about to find out exactly what they'd done the night before. "Are you done playing, baby?" 

Was he imagining things, or was that sarcasm?

"You want to get down?"

"Yes, please," he answered with another smile.

"But, Charlie," the voice said. It hadn't lost any of the sexiness it had before, but it seemed to be gaining a harder edge, as if the person speaking was getting angry. "You've been such a bad, bad boy. Don't you think you deserve to be punished for that?"

The words were accompanied by the sharp jab of fingernails under his ribcage, and he couldn't stop himself from jerking away. It was a movement he regretted immediately when all of his other pains slammed right back into the center of his brain.

"Um... I'd say yes, but I think... this is really starting to hurt, baby. But if you cut me down, I promise I'll stick around and show you a real good time."

"It's starting to hurt, is it?" the voice asked, and he knew he wasn't imagining the anger in it that time.

"Y... yeah."

"Poor Charlie. I guess it's time to end our little game then, isn't it?"

He sighed deeply in relief and closed his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

Even if he'd opened his eyes again, they'd still have been too blurry for him to see the way the person in front of him changed. And with them closed, he definitely didn't see the person's eyes change color, turning from bright green to deep yellow. He didn't see the pupils in those eyes changing shape, elongating and thinning to a point on each end. He didn't see the person hunch over onto all fours, or the way the back lengthened and the legs shortened. He didn't see the thick black fur that rapidly grew into place, the razor-sharp teeth that filled the mouth behind the parted lips, or the claws that extended from the ends of the paws that had been, only seconds before, the fingertips pressed against his chest.

But when the change was complete and the lioness pounced on him, the extra weight on the rope around his wrists making him cry out in pain, he realized just how badly he'd misjudged his situation. And when the teeth sank into his throat, cutting off his scream at the same time the claws shredded the skin above his ribcage, he sure as hell felt it. 

No, Charlie Archer wasn't an easy man to shock. But he was just as easy to kill as any other.