The new Mrs. Winchester (18)
Word count: 3.1K
Pairing: Sam X Reader AU
Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence; reader discretion is strongly advised.
Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?
A/N: Really slowly, but we are getting there ;)
Beta: My darling @deanssweetheart23
With your back to the damp wall, you stared at the mouldy ceiling. Sick green patches had bloomed all over it, giving the appearance of an ugly, mossy carpet. A guard had thrown two blankets over your body. Amazing the difference that warmth could make to the mind’s functioning.
Thirteen men so far.
The pins had been removed from your heels, and now littered on the cell’s floor. Using the sharp point of one you made thirteen lines on the wall, then a fourteenth one. The guard from the first night should also count. But so should Nick, then.
Rage, the sort that could scorch the earth whole erupted inside you. A few days was all it took for the shock to turn into horror, then grief and finally rage. That monster was the reason Danny and Jamie were being held hostage. But they were safe. You had gathered your marbles and spent every minute since your recapture vigorously trying to understand the extent of your situation to the last detail. First: You were a commodity, with investment already put in place. If you behaved as instructed, you could avoid the worst of bodily harm, at least, from the captors’ side. The boss– a shudder ran through your body, in cold fear– wouldn’t let his men touch you… only the clients and him. The first assault from a guard was a one-time thing and would never be repeated, now that you knew all the rules. So, as an investment, you would be taken care of. Physical injuries would obviously reduce the value of the goods.
Second: The kids were safe for now. The business didn’t deal with murdering children for fun, they were only a security and not a purposeful target. No one would ever go out of their way to hurt them. As long as you followed instructions, they would be untouched and well-educated.
Third: You could manage and escape, but you wouldn’t even try now and everyone knew that. They managed high-end clientele and you were specifically chosen for being well-educated, where you could entertain body and mind.
A possibility emerged from all the analysis. If you managed to stay alive for a few decades here, they wouldn’t want anything to do with a wrinkled woman. Then, instead of killing you, they might turn you onto the streets.
A rattling cough sounded from the adjoining cell. In the afternoon, when they’d taken you upstairs for the man in the hideous purple suit, the cell had been empty. Noises could only mean one thing– you weren’t the newest piece for sale anymore.
Gripping the bars, you hoisted yourself up, still in pain, and banged on the wall. No one was on duty in the passageways at that time. The girl must have mirrored you, for you could see the tips of her fingers if you craned your neck.
“Don’t resist,” you whispered. “They’ll get you one way or another. It’s no use.”
She spat. “You can give up. But I won’t. I’ll find a way of getting out of here.”
You didn’t mind her derision. Rather, a sadness gripped your heart at her confidence, at the fight she harboured. You were just the same once.
Sliding back, you bit back a shriek of pain. Everything hurt and you didn’t know if you would be ready to deal with more by tomorrow.
“Where… where are we?” She asked, voice shaky. “Which way is the exit?”
“We’re in Texas, near the border to New Mexico. This is the second basement and the exit is on the third right by the parallel passageway. Two guards are always stationed there. If you get past it, you’ll exit on a mile-long driveway and about two miles to the east of its end, you’ll find a bus stop.”
A sharp intake of breath.
“I managed to escape once,” you told her. “Almost made it into the bus, too.”
“So, there is a way out?”
You didn’t want to repeat words of hopelessness to her. In her own time, she would know how impossible it was.
Michael came rattling the bars and you pressed up against the wall, scared of the smirk on his face. But he stopped before your cell, in front of hers.
“C’mon, Darling, it’s showtime,” he sneered. She must have spat in his face because the next minute you heard the clanging of the door being opened and then a slap, followed by a crash.
“You better watch it, bitch!”
“My boyfriend will rip you to pieces!” She screamed.
“Oh, really?” Another slap.
A sob broke free of your lips. That poor girl had also trusted a man and ended up here. You knew the drill, the water hoses, followed by nights of torment where she would worry sick about the guy before they would drop the truth on her of who really sold her.
“T-Take me!” The words left your lips, and then you couldn’t take them back. “Leave her. I’ll go again tonight.”
“My… my… how touching,,.” Michael came around to your cell. “Such a princess move! You know I’m not picky. If you want to get some more tonight, be my guest.” He opened your door and yanked you out. Slowly, you moved past her and registered nothing but her big brown eyes, before Michael poked you in the back. “After you, your royal highness.”
*****
“Would you like honey in your coffee, Miss?”
You craned your neck up to squint at her. “Honey? In coffee?”
“Yes,” said Abby. “Mr. Winchester has been taking it in his and it seems to have made all the difference.”
“Abby, the only thing that could make any difference to his coffee is throwing that whole jar away.”
She giggled quietly and added a single sugar cube to yours. You registered her mild tone. There seemed to have been a colossal shift in her attitude towards Sam. You wouldn’t be the one to complain, but regretted having missed the phenomenon.
“Mrs Winchester!” Sarah, the other maid on Wednesday’s wait staff barged into the room. “Ma’am, you need to come down, people have come asking for Mr Winchester.”
Sharing a confused look with Abby, you followed Sarah downstairs and then steeled yourself to find most of the board in the dining room, seated at the table.
“Mr Singer, it's wonderful to see you here,” you greeted Bobby and then the other members, most of whom were Sam’s cousins. “Sam isn’t home at the moment. What can I help you with?”
Sam hadn’t been home for a while now, away on business as he was.
“You can’t help here,” said Christian, but he didn’t appear surprised in the least to not find Sam at home. “It’s a board matter.”
None of the Campbells had ever spoken to you directly. Not Christian or even Gwen, but she was glaring at you now.
“Why, I think I deserve to know.”
“If you insist then,” he said, tilting his head. “The board has decided by a majority to remove Sam Winchester as the CEO. Considering the share of all present parties, the majority percentage agrees to instant dismissal.”
Your heart started pumping faster in your chest, but you managed to murmur, “How does that work?”
Christian seemed to be the spokesperson here. “Removing Sam’s forty per cent leaves sixty per cent. Bobby here refuses to agree–” a sneer in his direction– “ That leaves a majority of the shares with us! Is it simple enough for you, Y/N?”
You jerked at being called by your name by anyone other than Sam. However, you held your ground. “Doesn’t leave sixty per cent.”
“Excuse me?” Gwen stepped up.
“I said, removing Sam’s share, doesn’t leave sixty per cent. It leaves eighty. A week ago he transferred half of his shares to mine.”
A rumble ran through the assembled men. Apparently, the share transfer hadn’t been put up on a bulletin board.
“That’s still what? Twenty to–”
“Twenty-five,” grumbled Bobby. “Don’t go forgetting this old man, Campbell.”
Christian was losing it now. “Fine, big deal. It’s still twenty-five to thirty-five. About time that Sam and his new bride packed up and left.”
At your startled look, Gwen grinned. “Didn’t you know, Darlin’? The mansion’s run by a trust, no majority, no house.”
You looked about yourself, missing Sam in your bones. Insanely, while sitting at the dining table, of all people you thought of Han. The snapping, the hostile looks in everyone’s eyes reminded you of his words: “Lady, if you run into the wolves, I’ll be afraid for them.” You wanted to be that brave girl now, the one unafraid of wolves. And just like that you were homesick for him. He’d promised to come when you needed help, needed him– lamp or no lamp.
And here you were about to be thrown out when Sam wasn’t even home.
The doors of the dining hall were thrown open and you jerked up in your seat. As if in a fever dream you saw Han saunter into the living room, boots, leather jacket, muddy jeans and all, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
As he passed by your chair, he lightly ruffled the top of your hair briefly, then pulled the chair beside yours and fell on it. “Hey, Chewie!” He grinned, completely disregarding that every chair apart from his and yours had scraped and now everyone else was on their feet, emotions ranging from shock to being thunderstruck. He put his muddy boots up on the table over crossed ankles. The soles directly faced Christian.
You made a move to get up as well, but he placed a hand on yours to hold you there. You couldn’t help but gauge everyone’s reaction. Out by the brook, on your pier, holding Han’s hand would be the most natural thing in the world, but not only did he seem completely out of place here amidst these men in suits, but he also didn’t seem to care… at all. And you didn’t know if you did, as Mark Campbell’s eyes moved from Han’s face to his hand on yours. Be that as it may, you were still magnanimously glad that he was here for you.
“So, Christian, I heard you were harassing this young lady?” Said Han, eyes sharp. “Old habits die hard, huh?”
A slight panic started to rise in your throat. You didn’t want any of these people to be disrespectful to your friend, be horrible to him, because they were perfectly capable of it.
“Ha–” you started, but he tightened the grip on your hand, and you understood his signal to be quiet.
No one had found their voices yet and were still gawking at Han as if he were some extra-terrestrial being.
In the end, Bobby cleared his throat and put a hand on your friend’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, son.”
Han turned his face to meet Bobby’s gaze and you couldn’t see the expression on it anymore, but Bobby’s eyes became tender and he let go. When Han faced Christian again, the steel was back in his voice. “ Explain the math to me again, will you?”
“Y-you can’t just come back again and… and…”
“And what? Explain it like a five-year-old to you?” Han smirked. “Did you leave all of my twenty per cent out? Guess it doesn’t take the MBA that you don’t have to figure out forty-five is a bigger number than thirty-five, huh?”
“You, son of a bitch,” hissed Christian, putting his palms on the table. “You think you can disappear to God knows where and then turn up now to–”
For the second time, the door to the dining room opened and Sam stumbled in. At first, his gaze fell on the assembly as a whole, then he did a double take at Han, eyes going wide and wider by the second, until they dropped to your entwined hands and back up again, at your face first and back to the man next to you. You saw him rock a little on his feet and then go very still.
You yanked your hand back, but you needn’t have because Han let go, too, and got to his feet. You fully appreciated how tall he was, also. It seemed like an eternity passed between them as they stood staring at one another and slowly, very slowly the situation truly sank in your comprehension.
Castiel followed after Sam and froze, too, then exclaimed, “Dean!”
With shaky feet, you stood up, realising how wrongly you had interpreted the entire situation. The board members weren’t shocked at the appearance of an alien person in their midst. Rather they were incensed at the entry of the strongest contender in the game save for Sam himself.
This man was Dean. Your Han was Dean Winchester.
“Cas,” Bobby warned, and Castiel schooled his expression. “Move along then, people,” Bobby raised his voice. “I believe the matter is settled. Let the family have some privacy.” But the men didn’t seem to want to move, as if they were also caught in the power of the unbroken gaze, expecting a shouting match… eager for it. And maybe they weren’t far off, because you knew Sam’s clenched jaw and Dean’s steely eyes.
“Move now!” Bobby snapped and slowly the board filed out of the room. Cas, the last to leave, closed the door behind him with a look of apprehension.
Your breath caught.
Time unfroze then.
Suddenly, Sam crossed the room and closed the distance in between to engulf his brother in a tight hug. Dean hugged him back fiercely, eyes an ocean of emotions– pain, longing, love. And Sam? You had seen him stressed, worried, even vulnerable… but never like this, never seen him close his eyes so tight and simply let go. The weight he seemed to carry on his shoulders all the time, seemed to evaporate in a second and you could see in him the man who was only twenty-nine, without the responsibility of the world to pull him down.
They broke apart, eyes still roving each other's faces for a minute, before Sam turned to you, grinning. “Dean,” he said, voice lighter than a breeze, “This is Y/N. And Y/N, this… this is my brother, Dean.”
He took a step in your direction, but you moved back, flattening yourself against the wall. “Don’t… don’t come close to me.”
“Y/N?”
Sam’s brow furrowed.
You inched further away, pointing a finger at him. “You got me good, Sam. You got me real good. You and your brother. Did you plan every second of it? And for how long? For two years, is it? For two years you’ve made a fool of the whole world… no bigger fool than me, though. Brilliantly executed good cop- bad cop routine.”
You felt disgusted at yourself for falling for the manipulation. Had anything been real at all?
“You wouldn’t even look at me in the beginning. In… In the chapel, you wouldn’t even turn your head in my direction, as if I was something disgusting stuck to your shoe, and you treated me like an invisible ghost in your house. And then you graced me with your attention, your care, your… your…” You broke down crying. “All to get me talking. I know that now. I’m not stupid.”
Knees bucking, you fell to the ground, unable to stop the pitiful crying.
Both brothers moved, but Dean was quicker to get on his knees.
“Chewie–”
“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you screamed. “I trusted you. I thought you were my friend.”
Over you, Sam started, worried eyes shifting between you and his brother in confusion.
“You’re an asshole,” you pointed at the man before you and then above. “You, too, Sam. You violated my trust. What you did is no better than any of those hundred men.”
Sam flinched. You might have slapped him.
Shakily, you got to your feet. “I’ll never forgive you.”
The run up the stairs and straight into your room ended when you threw yourself onto the bed. The silk hangings mocked you. You had been blinded by the false promises and reassurances, but you were still nothing more than a piece for sale, to be used… had never been anything more.
Slowly the past few months started to feel like a dream… one that had always felt too good to be true because it was.
The girl in the next cell jumped up from the floor as you were nearly dragged back to the basement that night, having completely lost the will and ability to walk. You heard the clatter of steel bowl as she rushed, but couldn’t find the energy to meet her gaze. Then it was too late as the door to your cell opened and you were unceremoniously flung inside. The birds outside were just starting to twitter, signaling the early hours of morning, little rodents scurrying to get back into their holes now that the night had ended. How you wanted to crawl in a hole, too, and just… die.
“Why did you do that?” She asked, voice strangled.
You didn’t have an answer for her. Getting slapped six times was nearly the same as getting slapped five times, right? Tonight, you were beaten anyway and she wasn’t. You understood the difference.
“Thank you.” Her voice held all the gratitude.
With the last vestiges of strength, you dragged yourself up onto the cot and pulled the two blankets over your body. “It’s alright.” Maybe she heard the whisper. Maybe she didn’t.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m gonna get us out of here. Get you out, if it’s the last thing I do.”
She was brave that one. You wanted to tell her to hold on to that spirit because men knew nothing but to hammer against it. Men knew nothing but to take advantage of women, but you were too tired to open your mouth.
Maybe having her in the next cell, you might not feel so lonely anymore, you thought as your eyes closed.
The banging woke you up. Sam was hammering on the connecting door of your room. Pulling your hands up, you shut your ears tightly until the banging stopped. Sam didn’t rest, as the desperate banging gave way to structured knocks.
L-E-T M-E A-T-L-E-A-S-T E-X-P-L-A-I-N
P-L-E-A-S-E
Y-N
One last loud bang against the door, as if he had banged his fists against it in frustration.
You must have fallen asleep or were nearly under when softer knocks sounded right over your headboard on the wall:
I-M S-O-R-R-Y
But you didn’t have it in you now. All along you had been right: Men knew nothing but to take advantage of women.
*****************************
A/N 2: I am struggling to write. Encouragement is the only thing keeping me going at this point. Please chat me up/ message me/ share your thoughts on this chapter!
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