Hey guys, back with a two-shot for you! This one is set in the brief period after they get back from the apocalypse world in 13x22 and before everything goes to hell again in 13x23. This was for an anonymous prompter from Tumblr, so if this was yours, I hope you enjoy it!

Dark and Deep

A Supernatural Fanfic

Part One

Jack came to slowly, confused about where he was. Everything was dark, but he could tell he wasn't in his room at the bunker. The place he was in felt…close.

He shifted and his knees hit something metal. Jack tried to turn but he could only shift slightly before he hit more unforgiving surfaces. Panic started to set in and he realized his mouth had been covered by something too. He couldn't breathe easily at all, and his arms were held together at the wrists. He struggled, letting out a muffled cry and kicking at the metal box encasing him. He tried to use his powers to bust out, but something was wrong. He couldn't feel his powers at all.

He kicked again, trying to get free through sheer force, but then someone banged on the box right above his head and he jolted in shock.

"Quiet down in there!" a voice shouted.

Jack let out another muffled shout and kicked even harder. There were people out there! Who had done this? Why was he in a box?

The whole box shifted slightly and then he realized they were moving, likely in a vehicle. Jack frantically tried to remember what had happened that led him to this moment. He recalled finishing a hunt with Castiel and the Winchesters. They had been a day away from the bunker so they decided to stay in the motel another night since the bunker was still crowded with the refugees from the apocalypse world. They'd gone to dinner, and afterward, Jack, tired from the hunt, had gone out before the others to sit in the car while they paid.

But he had never even gotten to the Impala, he realized. He'd been jumped as soon as he had gotten into the dark parking lot. And that was all he remembered.

He gave the box one last kick and then it shifted slightly forward as the vehicle came to a halt. He heard footsteps around him, the screech of metal and then his box was shoved backwards and tipped off of a ledge. Jack cried out as his box hit the ground hard.

"Careful. Don't want to damage the merchandise," one man grunted.

"Please, this thing's indestructible," another man retorted. "At least if you believe everything the Brits say about it."

The box was lifted and carried a little ways before it was set down again. Jack held his breath as he heard the sound of a lock being undone and finally the lid was thrown back.

Jack took that moment and surged upright, startling the men so that they jumped back. His hands were manacled in front of him, but they had left his feet unbound. He snatched the stifling gag from his mouth and leapt at the closest man, shouldering him aside and making a break for the still open door of the building they had taken him too.

Unfortunately, there was a third man, and he barred the door, shoving Jack backwards with a huge hand and sending him tumbling to the floor.

The other men leapt on him, and Jack struggled, straining at his manacles, trying to access his powers, but then one of the men snatched something from his pocket and pressed a button on it. Jack felt an electric shock tear through his body from the manacles and collapsed onto the floor, shuddering uncontrollably.

The pain stopped after a few minutes and he fell limply against the ground, his body still tingling. His tongue hurt, and he tasted blood, some of it dribbling from the side of his mouth.

One of the men hauled him up by his jacket. "Let that be a lesson, boy. You do anything we don't like and you get another taste."

"W-why are you d-doing this?" Jack managed.

The man holding his chuckled. "Why? Because the Brits are willing to pay big bucks for the nephillim they lost, and we just so happened to stumble across you and the Winchesters by accident."

Jack frowned. "The Men of Letters?"

Another man snorted. "Well, I guess you aren't as dumb as you look."

Jack didn't like the sound of that. Sam and Dean hadn't told him much about the British but he vaguely remembered them being bad, dangerous, from when he was still in his mother's womb. They had tried to kill her and him. He didn't think their sentiments would be much different now.

He strained at his manacles again, closing his eyes to try and focus his powers but again, he couldn't reach them.

The man who held him chuckled cruelly. "Don't bother trying to use your mojo. Those manacles are heavy duty. You won't be able to access your powers as long as they're on."

Jack simply turned to glower at him. "My family will come for me," he said.

"Not before we ship you off to the Brits. They'll be here within a day or two. Even the Winchesters won't be able to find you out here."

Jack finally took in his surroundings. They were in a small cabin that was devoid of mostly everything except a couple cots, and the men's gear. Glancing toward one of the windows, Jack saw that they were surrounded by dark trees. Jack felt in his pocket, but his phone was gone. A sinking feeling started to fall over him. Maybe these men were right.

Maybe the Winchesters and Cas wouldn't get to him in time.

Castiel paced across the floor of the motel room, a ball of anxiety in his chest. He had no idea how Jack could have been taken so quickly. They had only been separated for five minutes at most…

"Anything?" Dean asked Sam as he got off the phone with Jody after explaining to her what had happened.

"Still trying to hack into the traffic cams," Sam said, typing furiously at the keyboard of his laptop.

Castiel let out a frustrated sound. "That may not do us any good anyway. We don't know who took Jack! And honestly, it must have been someone who knows how to subdue him, or suppress his powers, because otherwise he never would have been taken."

"We may be able to see what happened in the parking lot from the cameras though," Sam told Castiel in a steady voice, despite the worry in his own eyes. The angel knew he had to relax, otherwise he wouldn't do Jack any good, but so many horrible possibilities were running through his head of what might have happened to the young nephillim. Lucifer may be trapped in the alternate universe, Asmodeus may be dead, but there were still plenty of people and creatures that might think a nephillim was a precious commodity. And there were still the angels to consider. They may have boarded themselves into Heaven, but Castiel didn't think they would really stop trying to see whether Jack could help them create more angels. Especially when Lucifer had failed. And with Gabriel dead, he had been their last hope, and they might be getting desperate again…

"Okay, I got it," Sam said and Castiel and Dean both crowded behind him to see what he was looking at on the screen.

Sam fast-forwarded through the video feed that showed most of the parking lot of the restaurant that was directly across the street from this traffic camera, until he slowed it down when a familiar figure appeared at the door to the diner.

"Okay, that's when Jack leaves," Sam said, his voice tight. Castiel watched anxiously as Jack walked across the parking lot toward where they had parked the Impala. Almost instantly, a man peeled from the shadows at the side of the diner, coming up behind Jack, and two more stepped up in front of the nephillim. Castiel's hand tightened against the back of the chair as he watched Jack obviously talking to the men, probably wanting them to move, and then the one behind him pounced from behind and stuck something into Jack's neck.

The other two men grabbed him, clapping manacles around his wrists before they quickly dragged him out of frame.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled.

A large utility van left the parking lot a couple minutes later and drove off down the road. Sam stopped the video again, and zoomed in on the back of the car.

"License plate?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, writing the number down. "But they looked professional, and I don't think they'd be stupid enough not to switch the plates before they got too far."

"But who the hell were they?" Dean demanded.

"Scroll back," Castiel asked Sam, leaning in closer and the younger hunter did as he asked and played the feed again. Castiel tried to focus on the men this time, but as he watched them drag Jack away again, he shook his head. "No lens flare, or any distortion of any kind."

"What you're saying is they're people?" Dean asked grimly.

"What the hell would people want with Jack?" Sam demanded. "I mean, who even knows about him?"

"Hunters," Dean said. "The British dickbags of Letters, had every lousy hunter they recruited out looking for Kelly and Jack at the end."

"But we did away with them," Sam protested. "Well, except Ketch."

Dean growled. "I swear, if that bastard is behind this…"

"Dean, as much as I dislike Ketch, he's had plenty of opportunities to take Jack if that's what he wanted," Castiel said. "And Jack might have actually been more inclined to trust him after what happened in the apocalypse world so Ketch probably would have used that rapport to capture Jack himself if he'd planned on doing so."

"And really, the hunters could have wanted Jack just for his power," Sam said, disgust obvious in his voice, once again typing on his computer. "It's not so far of a stretch to think that hunters might try to find the nephillim the Brits told them about, even after everything."

"I don't even know any of those guys though," Dean grunted.

"We should send pictures out to other hunters—but only ones we know we can trust," Sam added.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, and that's a long list. What about his phone GPS, can we track that?"

"Already on it," Sam said, and typed a little more before he pulled up a new screen with a map on it. He shook his head with a sigh. "They must have dumped it. It's showing that it's still at the diner."

"Dammit," Dean growled, running a hand over his face. "Okay, so we at least have a lead, now we just have to follow it."

"I'm going to run this plate, see what it brings up, then check traffic cams further in the direction the van was heading," Sam said and began working again.

Castiel pulled away to allow the younger Winchester to work. The agony of not knowing where Jack was or whether he was hurt or not, was eating at him.

"We have to find him," he said, not realizing he'd spoken out loud until Sam turned to him with a determined look of his face.

"We will, Cas. I promise."

Castiel just hoped that they wouldn't be too late.

The men shoved Jack into a small room at one side of the cabin. It may have been a bathroom at one point because it had pipes sticking from the walls and floor, and there was still a sink in one corner. The men forced Jack over next to it and onto his knees. Jack didn't go easily, but with another short burst of electricity from the manacles, he was forced to be compliant.

They had some chain that also looked like it had sigils carved into it and they looped it around the chain that attached Jack's manacles, then they locked it around the pipe that connected the sink to the wall. Jack tugged at it, but one of the men kicked him hard in the hip.

"Don't mess with it if you know what's good for you," he said with a growl.

Jack simply glowered at him, drawing his shoulders back defiantly—something he had learned from his time as Michael's captive. Of course, just like Michael, these men didn't seem to be too happy with his show of strength.

One of the men backhanded him sharply and Jack fell against the sink, hitting his head. "Don't you bother with that, boy."

The third man had apparently gone out to the vehicle to get their supplies and one of the others glanced over his shoulder as he came into the small room with a bag.

"You get the stuff, Jerry?" he asked the new arrival.

"I got it," the man named Jerry said. "You sure this is a good idea, Clay?"

"The Brits will never know, and we've already gotta split the bounty money three ways. A little extra cash won't go amiss and there's plenty of hunters who will pay good money for this kind of stuff." He knelt and started rummaging in the bag. "I'll do it if you're so squeamish, Jerry."

Jerry glowered down at his companion. "I'm not squeamish, I'm just not sure I trust those Limeys and their equipment."

"Look, if the kid could use his powers, he would have already," the third man said and watched as Clay pulled several objects from the bag. "As long as he's in those cuffs, he's completely locked down. Just keep a hold of that remote and give him a shock if he does anything we don't like."

Jack glared down angrily at the cuffs and tugged them again. His wrists were starting to get raw from his constant tugging. Clay stood up holding several items, which he set in one corner of the room next to the sink.

"Grab him, Sean, we don't want him getting any ideas," Clay said.

The man named Sean crossed the small room to Jack, and the nephillim shrank back as far as he could under the sink. But Sean reached down and grabbed his shoulders, hauling him out until his arms were stretched out in front of him, the manacles digging into his wrists even more.

"Let me go!" Jack struggled against his grip, but with these manacles, he was no stronger than a normal human, and he was so much smaller and weaker than these men.

"Alright, we're gagging you again," Sean growled and yanked the loosened gag that was still hanging around Jack's neck up over his chin. He forced the rough fabric into Jack's mouth and retied it so tight, it cut into his cheeks. Jack growled past the gag, and continued to struggle, but Sean got a strong hold on him again and put most of his struggling on hold. "That's better."

Clay approached and Jack saw a flash a metal out of the corner of his eye. His breath caught in his throat and he tried to shrink away as Clay knelt and grabbed the back of his coat. Jack felt tugging on the fabric, and then a ripping sound as Clay's knife sliced up the back of his coat and parted it. He then slashed at the sleeves until the coat fell away from Jack's body in tatters. Clay then did the same to Jack's t-shirt, tearing it from his torso, and the nephillim shivered as the cold air in the cabin hit his bare skin. He felt small and exposed in this small room with his captors. He really wished Castiel and the Winchesters would break down that door right now. He just wanted to be home with his family. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

Clay set the knife aside and Jerry came forward with the items Clay had pulled from the bag. Jack watched in trepidation as a flat black pouch was handed over. Clay unzipped it to reveal two large syringes, and what looked like tubing and glass vials. Jack didn't want to know what they were going to use those for and struggled even more violently, causing Sean to grunt as he tried to hold him. Jerry's grip on the remote that caused the electric shock tightened but Jack didn't care. He didn't want to find out what Clay was going to do with that syringe.

"Maybe we should give him another dose of the drugs for this?" Sean suggested.

"I want the blood to be pure," Clay said as he picked one of the syringes from the set. "Just get a good hold of him."

Sean grunted and changed positions, looping an arm around Jack's chest and grabbing his head to keep Jack from ramming his skull into the other man's nose. Sean gripped him firmly under the chin, immobilizing him and pressed warningly until Jack stopped struggling. He was in a very uncomfortable position and Clay knelt next to one of his outstretched arms and gripped it firmly. Jack watched with wide-eyed horror as Clay sank the needle into his arm and then attached it to a tube. Blood was pulled out of Jack's arm and he watched as Clay collected it in bottles, whimpering every time the man touched the tube. He wasn't gentle and it dug the needle further into Jack's arm.

Soon, there were multiple bottles of Jack's blood sitting on the floor. Jerry collected them into a box as Clay kept going. Jack began to feel a little lightheaded as his blood kept being drawn. He didn't know how much was dangerous to lose, but he was feeling the effect, and he didn't think these men understood that with his grace locked down, he couldn't take any more physical harm than a normal human.

Thankfully, Clay seemed to see that it was having ill effects on him and stopped.

"That's probably enough for now, he's looking a little pale," Clay said.

Sean gripped Jack's chin, tipping his head back to look into his eyes. "It's a nephillim, it can handle it."

"Better not take chances," Clay said firmly, letting Jerry put the last of the bottles into the box as he reached for a small pouch, from which he pulled a small metal disk. It looked harmless compared to the needle, but Jack wasn't going to bet on that. He shifted nervously.

"What's that?" Sean asked.

"This thing lets out an electromagnetic pulse that reveals the true identity of something. You can use it to reveal monsters' true forms," he grinned and jerked his chin at Sean. "You may want to move to one side. Grab the back of his neck."

Jack struggled as Sean wrapped a meaty hand around the back of his neck and shoved his face toward the floor. He had no idea what they could do with a contraption like that. His angelic powers were already bound with the sigils, and he didn't really have a true form like an angel. His human body was his own.

He felt the cold metal of the devise touch the center of his back and then a painful tugging at his core. He gasped against the gag as he felt the tugging intensify until he was aware that his wings were visible. Not quite corporeal, but more then the shadows they were when he would 'power up'.

"Holy crap," Jerry muttered.

"Angel feathers are a hot commodity, what do you think we could get for nephillim feathers?" Clay said, and Jack cried out in protest as his hand fell into the ethereal feathers and started tugging. Jack flinched and struggled, but Sean shoved him further down until his face was pressed against the floor and his arms were bent at an awkward, painful angle above him. He screamed past the gag as Clay ripped out a handful of his feathers, and they instantly became solid once they were no longer attached to his wings. The agony was excruciating, and the pure violating feel of having someone force his wings into the open and then proceed to rip his feathers out, made tears well in Jack's eyes. He bit back a sob before another scream was forced from his throat as Clay ripped even more feathers out, this time grabbing onto the arm of his wing to get a better grip.

"That should do it," the hunter said finally after Jack was forced to endure the agony several more times until Clay had collected a small pile of feathers. Sean finally released his hold on Jack's neck, but the nephillim stayed bowed forward, shuddering at the shock from the blood loss and the violent pain from his wings. Clay removed the device that revealed them and Jack felt the pain ripple through his bound grace, frayed and sharp at the spots where his feathers had been yanked out. He had never felt something so painful before; even after all the torture Michael had put him though.

"Now for the ultimate money maker." Clay seemed pleased with himself as he selected a box from the floor beside him and opened it up. Jack glanced up just in time to see him pull out a huge glass and metal syringe. He let out a whimper just at the sight, having no idea what this was to be used for. Hadn't they already taken enough of his blood?

Sean knelt beside him again and grabbed a fistful of his hair, hauling Jack's head backward and to one side, exposing his throat. Jack struggled weakly, but Sean was able to restrain him easily now that he was weakened from his ordeal.

Clay crouched and gripped Jack's shoulder with one hand, holding up the syringe with the other, a cruel smirk on his face as he saw Jack watching him. "This one's gonna hurt, boy."

And then he stuck the syringe into Jack's neck and started to draw the plunger up.

Jack didn't feel anything at first besides the initial pinch of the huge needle, but then there was a sharp tug inside of him right before sudden agony speared through his body and his grace.

He screamed, seeing the shimmer of grace in the glass vial of the syringe. As painful as the assault to his wings had been it was nothing compared to this. This felt like his very being was being ripped apart atom by atom and he couldn't handle it another second.

As the torture continued, all Jack could do was give in to the darkness that had mercifully come to claim him.

Sam rubbed his aching head with a sigh. He'd spent the last two hours looking at traffic cam footage and had only been able to track the van so far before it disappeared off a side street. After that, he figured they had changed the license plate. Either that or they had done a good job keeping off main roads, because he'd hacked into all the cams he could and didn't see any trace of it more than ten miles from the diner where Jack had been taken.

"You know, I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe we should call Ketch for help," Sam said grudgingly.

Dean frowned. "What? No way. I don't care if he helped us in the apocalypse world, there's no telling whether he's actually in on this or not."

"I know," Sam said. "But he may at least be able to identify these hunters. If he can, he might know where they're likely to hole up."

"I don't know, Sam," Dean sighed.

Cas at least looked thoughtful. "We don't have to tell him why we're looking for them. And Sam's right, Dean, he may be the only one who would know."

"Come on, man," Dean groaned. "And what if he hired them after all? We'd essentially be guaranteeing the fact that we'd never see Jack again."

"We have to do something!" Sam snapped sharply, standing up quickly as his chair scraped across the floor. "Jack is out there alone, maybe hurt, with a bunch of hunters, with only us to look for him and we're failing! I'm calling Ketch to see if he even has a vague idea of who these guys are."

Dean sighed as Sam grabbed his phone off the table. "You're right, Sammy, I'm sorry. I'm just worried is all."

"We all are," Cas agreed.

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line. In the back of his mind he knew Dean might be right about Ketch, but he'd also helped them out of the apocalypse world and had helped in the rebellion when he was over there. While Sam might hesitate to call him a good guy, he didn't think he was stupid enough to cross them again, knowing well enough how that would end for him. Besides, seeing those men take Jack down that easily…Sam felt sick thinking about what else they could do to him. They had obviously known what they were looking for, had probably been tracking them for who knew how long? That thought made Sam's skin crawl. And since he didn't know anything that could work on a nephillim like that, he figured this had to be something from the British Men of Letters and all their special gadgets.

He dialed the number and listened to it ring a couple times before it picked up.

"Yes?" the posh voice sounded.

"Ketch, it's Sam Winchester." Sam glanced at the others before he put the call on speaker.

"Ah, and I can only assume you didn't just call for a pleasant chat."

"No, actually, we need some information," Sam said, sitting back down at the computer and pulling up his email with the pictures of the men. "I'm sending you an email with some pictures. We think they're hunters, but we were wondering if you might know who they are."

He sent the email of the headshots and a couple minutes later Ketch had checked it. "Ah, yes, those were some of the men we recruited. Clay Farrell, is one of them and the other two are men he commonly runs with."

"Okay, do you know where they live or maybe someplace they would use to hide out?" Sam asked.

"Well, not off the top of my head, but I suppose with some digging, I could probably come up with something for you."

"Then do that," Sam said firmly.

"May I inquire why I'm doing this?" Ketch asked.

"Not right now," Sam said. "But work fast."

Ketch sighed on the other end. "Very well. You do know how many times you owe me, right?"

"Yeah, just put it on our tab," Sam muttered before he ended the call.

Dean huffed a sigh and flung his hands up. "Great. Now all we can do is wait."

Jack's whole body hurt as he regained consciousness. He was lying half curled on the ground under the sink, with his arms bent awkwardly up where they attached to the pipes. He tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but a whimper escaped his throat as he did. He stayed still instead, and closed his eyes again.

Everything hurt. He could feel his grace even tamped down, aching and frayed from the torture to his wings and, even worse, from Clay sucking part of it out. At least he could still feel it, so the hunter hadn't taken it all. But he was cold, shivering in just his jeans—they've even taken his shoes now. The gag still cut painfully into his flesh too, and his wrists around the manacles were now scabbed over from cuts, probably from his struggling.

Jack finally managed to sit upright against the wall beside the sink, which was a little more comfortable. He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder to try and get the gag out of his mouth, but it was too tight to do that so he gave up. Jack then focused on his surroundings. He couldn't hear the men talking, wondered if they were even in the cabin anymore? But then he heard a snort and realized they must be sleeping. Jack began to look around the small room. There was a window about six feet up on the other side, which was open and currently causing cold air to flow down on him. It was small, but he may be able to fit through it if he could get out of these manacles.

He turned to study his restraints then and tugged at the chain attaching his manacles to the pipe. There was a little give to the pipe and he caught his breath in sudden hope. Maybe, even if he couldn't get out of the manacles, he could break the pipe.

Jack repositioned himself for better leverage, and yanked at the chain, leaning his whole body weight into it. It shifted even more and started cracking through the plywood that surrounded it. Jack yanked again even harder and it let out a loud screeching.

He stopped, breath and heart stopping. There was the sound of some shuffling from the other room, but no one seemed to wake up.

Deciding that he needed to finish this, he made one last effort, heaving against the manacles and shoving his feet against the wall for extra leverage.

The pipe groaned and popped free, sending Jack sprawling on his back. The fall jarred his abused body, but he was elated that he had actually done it. He swiftly extricated his manacles from the pipe just as he heard more shifting out in the room and then a tired voice saying, "What was that?"

Jack froze, before getting shakily to his feet. He glanced up at the window and back at the closed door just as more voices joined the first one and footsteps creaked across the old wooden floor.

"Sean, check on the nephillim."

Jack frantically turned to the window as footsteps came toward the door and made a desperate leap. He snagged the windowsill and hauled himself up with some difficulty due to his manacled hands, but he fit through and managed to slip out just as the door was flung open.

"Hey!" Sean yelled. "He's escaping!"

Jack tumbled ungracefully to the ground outside, hitting hard. The wind was knocked from him briefly, but he forced himself to his feet, yanking the gag from his mouth as he dashed off toward the trees.

But Sean and the others were already outside, flashlights whipping around, as Clay shouted orders at them.

Jack ducked behind some trees, trembling. He had no idea where to go, he just knew that he had to get away from here. Away from these men.

He dashed toward a shadowy area as quietly as possible but he was barefooted and everything hurt to step on. He hissed as he stepped on a sharp stick, and stumbled, collapsing on one knee that struck a rock. He bit back a cry as it cut through his jeans and he could feel the blood welling through the fabric but he forced himself back up and limped further into the darkness.

He crept around the cabin, seeing a flashlight beam in the distance. He saw the vehicle they had taken him here in and wondered briefly if he might be able to steal it and drive back to the nearest town wherever that was. But he'd never driven and he didn't know how to hotwire a car so that probably was a bad idea.

His only option was the go further into the woods and hope that he would somehow be able to get a message to Sam, Dean and Cas. At the moment getting lost in the woods seemed like a better option than getting caught by the hunters again.

But as he turned around, he ran right into Clay's broad chest.

"There you are, you little bastard," Clay snarled and grabbed Jack by the wrist, punching him hard in the stomach. Jack doubled over, but was determined not to be taken again. He surged forward, driving his shoulder into Clay's groin. The man whuffed out a breath and gave a strangled yell but the blow caused him to release his hold on Jack.

"Jerry, Sean, grab 'im!" Clay wheezed.

Jerry came out of nowhere and blocked Jack's escape. He raised the small remote and pressed the button. Jack cried out as the electricity tore through him and then he was tackled to the ground. He struck out, flailing and kicking, knowing he got hits in from hearing Sean and then Jerry's curses. But Sean had apparently brought a length of rope and started binding his ankles up to his knees with it. Jack still struggled but when Sean wrapped the rope around his torso, pressing his arms to his sides too, it became less effective.

"Let me go!" he pleaded pointlessly.

Sean stood and kicked him cruelly in the ribs, then again and again before Jerry stopped him.

"Hey, don't damage the merchandise," he cautioned.

Sean instead snagged the remote from him and pressed the button long and hard. Jack screamed as the current tore through him, his body shuddering uncontrollably on the ground as the numbing agony just went deeper and deeper. When he finally stopped, he fell completely limp, gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face.

"That's enough!" Clay snapped, staggering up. "Get him back inside," he snapped.

Sean snarled and reached down to grab the ropes tied around Jack's body and used them to drag him up and over his shoulder. Jack wriggled weakly, but Sean held onto him tightly. It wasn't like Jack would have anywhere to go if he did get out of the man's hold.

They carried Jack back inside the cabin as despair began to wash over him. He'd failed to get away and he knew he wouldn't get another chance to escape now.

Once inside the cabin, Sean dumped him on the ground none-too-gently and Jack cried out.

"You got a lot of nerve," Clay said, crouching down next to Jack and checking the ropes and manacles that bound him. "You know how much you almost lost us? Almost a million dollars. That's what you're worth, you freak. That's how much those brits are willing to pay for you. Frankly I don't see the point. You just look like a skinny kid to me, but I guess they probably want to see what you're made of."

The way he said that sent a shiver down Jack's spine and Clay seemed to take a cruel pleasure in that. "That's right, boy. Soon as we hand you over to them, you'll spend the rest of your life in a lab. They'll do all kinds of tests on you, cut you open to see how you tick." Jack flinched away as Clay traced a mocking finger down his chest and stomach to imitate a cut, chuckling cruelly. "Probably keep you awake too, sick bastards. But whatever. They can do whatever they want as long as we get paid." He stood up. "Which is why we can't have you escaping again."

Jack felt Sean behind him, his hand in his hair, yanking his head back. Jack cried out as a needle jabbed into his neck. At first he was terrified that it was the one that had taken his grace, but something was pushed into his veins instead. A fuzzy feeling came over him almost instantly and Jack lolled on the ground, his surroundings blurring.

"This really is good stuff," Clay say appreciatively. "Bring the crate."

Jack tried to focus on what was going on but it was hard. However, as soon as he caught sight of the large metal box they'd had him in earlier, he realized what was happening.

"N-no, please," he slurred, trying to struggle, but his body didn't want to obey him.

Clay crouched down again and gripped his chin, shoving a dirty cloth into his mouth before tying a second one over it, just at tightly as the last gag. Jack felt like he was suffocating and he continued struggling as Clay and Sean lifted him up and over the box. He groaned past his gag, but his protests wouldn't do any good. They shoved him into the small space none too gently and then Clay stood over him, smirking down.

"Sweet dreams, freak," he said.

Jack screamed past his gag as the lid was shut, sending him into suffocating darkness.

Yes, I know, this cliffie…. rest assured, there will be quite a bit H/C in the next chapter after the rescue