Supernatural... But Better (Vol. I)

Chapter Fifteen

When I came to, I was hanging somewhere dark, cold, and wet.

He'd tied me up by my wrists, wrapping the rope around a pipe along the ceiling and bracing it with a couple bags of sand about a yard away from me. It was set up so that only the very tips of my feet could touch the ground, so all my weight was in my rope around my wrists, making them cut into me very painfully. I could relieve that by bracing myself on my toes, but that was difficult, and also quite painful if I kept it up for very long, because my ankles were tied together, too. There was also a cloth tied tightly around my mouth, and any movement I made with my mouth caused it to rub harshly against my skin.

It knew what it was doing.

Looking around, I figured out I was in the sewer system. There was a pile of clothes in the corner, things he'd stolen from victims of his skinwalking, presumably. There was stuff all over the place— broken metal pipes, wooden boards, catbird boxes, just general junk. It cut me off from being able to see down the tunnel, putting me in my own little secluded corner.

Looking up, I started tugging on the rope, trying to see if I could loosen it at all. I brought my legs up, forcing my body weight down towards the ground, but all it did was forcibly try to disconnect my hands from the rest of my arms. I supposed that was technically an option, to pull my hands off to free myself, but it would be difficult, excruciatingly painful, and leave me horribly disabled for the rest of my life. That would have to be my last resort.

For that moment, I decided to just hang there, moving between resting my weight on my wrists and my toes every so often to try to keep the pain to a minimum.

Down there in the sewers, there was no way to figure out how long had passed. No clocks that I could see, no daylight making its way to my eyes so I could even figure out if it was day or night. I didn't know how long I'd been passed out, where the shapeshifter was, what it was doing, whether Sam and Dean were even still alive—

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down. There was very little I could do in that situation except wait. Wait for the shapeshifter to kill me, to bring in one of my friends, to leave me there to die due to starvation or dehydration or something fun like that. Or, maybe, Sam and Dean would get the better of it, which would be a feat in and of itself, but then they'd also have to find me. Even if they were able to figure out that I was still alive — and they could just assume I was dead — and they also figured out it'd hidden me in the sewers, there was probably a lot of sewer to search. There was a very small chance they'd ever be able to look for me, let alone find me.

So... I was probably going to die.

The thought wormed its way through my mind, gripping my heart in its cold embrace. I'd always been close to death. When I was younger, I didn't know it. The danger was lost on me. The older I got, the more aware of it I became, and the more I tried to distance myself from it. But that never worked for long. It always came back, worse than before, so eventually, I just accepted it. There was even a point in my life where I longed to actually succumb to it, before I realized I was worth more than that. Then, I simply chased it through others, trying to find justice for those no longer able to seek it for themselves. But that brought danger along with it, danger that I became accustomed to, that I learned how to handle so that it never became a reality. I was taught how to defend myself, how to do my job safely and effectively. At that point, even though I was always just a single misstep away from death, I was removed from it. I never really thought it a true possibility, especially when I left that life behind to go to college, get a real job, settle down and have a normal life in Toledo, Ohio of all places. At that point, it was a non-possibility. I was only subject to the normal dangers everyone else faces daily, and with my skills, I'd never fall victim to them.

But I was dragged back in, without the clarity of mind to realize I needed more practice to get my abilities back up to snuff before I was as capable as I was before. I was too comfortable, too self-assured, too out of it to be able to protect myself any longer. Which meant I made mistakes and got caught out, taken to a sewer, and probably left to die.

But it wouldn't do to dwell on that. It wouldn't do to dwell on anything right then, not until I actually knew anything, until I was aware of what was happening. So, instead, I started humming. Music was a really good escape from life, I'd found, and it was also remarkably uplifting. It boosted my mood and distracted me, all at the same time.

I passed the time that way, before my voice slowly faded out as the existential fear took hold again.