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My head throbbed with pain as I regained consciousness, my throat sore from the earlier ordeal. Slowly, I opened my eyes, my vision still hazy for a moment, but the surroundings became clear. I found myself in the basement, bound to a chair, with a towering figure seated across from me. A muffled groan escaped my lips, but the tape covering my mouth stifled any further sound.
My hands were tightly tied behind the chair, rendering me immobile. To add to my helplessness, the devil's trap I was placed on drained my strength, leaving me feeling weak and vulnerable. But there was also this mental haze as if I were dosed with something. I glanced down, observing the white outline of the devil's trap on which I was seated—a grim reminder of the dangerous situation I found myself in. This boy was on thin ice.
My head felt foggy, and my vision remained hazy—a clear sign of being drugged, probably with a sedative. I wondered where Sam had managed to get such a drug. Struggling weakly against my bindings, I glanced across to see Bobby in a similar predicament, fighting to break free from his restraints. There was a look of sympathy exchanged between us; we both knew how dire the situation had become. And there wasn't anything I could do. The sedative was strong, meaning Sam wanted me completely immobilised for what he had to do to Bobby.
"Listen to me," Bobby tried to reason with Sam, pleading with him to reconsider his actions. Fear flickered in Bobby's eyes. "You don't want to do this," he pleaded. "Sam," the air filled with tension and fright. My head bobbed from side to side, as it couldn't remain straight. "I've been like a father to you, boy," Bobby went on. "Somewhere inside, you've got to know that," Sam seemed resolute in his intentions, his grip tightening on the knife he held in his hand, as he walked over.
"Well, that's just it," Sam came into my field of view, his gaze fixed on Bobby. "Sorry," His tone is devoid of true remorse, as he grips Bobby's head, and pulls him back, allowing a clean shot. I tried to push a word out through my taped mouth, but all that was heard was a weak muffle.
Sam retracted his arm, preparing to deliver a fatal blow to Bobby. But before he could strike, Dean materialized out of nowhere, grabbing Sam's arm and stopping him in his tracks. Sam let out a surprised cry, his eyes locking onto his brother's.
"Hi, Sam. I'm back," with his remark, Dean struck Sam across the face, hard enough to render him unconscious. I allowed a breath to exhale against the duct tape, and feel myself relax in my seat.
With Sam momentarily incapacitated, Dean turned his attention to Bobby and quickly began untying him. Once Bobby was partially freed, he waved Dean off to come to my aid. Dean rushed over to me, concern evident in his eyes. My eyes struggled to stay open as the sedative continued to affect me. He reached up and gently peeled the duct tape covering my mouth, discarding it to the floor.
"Abby?" He called, but my head slumped to the side, unable to support its weight. I felt Dean's hands on either side of my face, holding my head up so I could meet his gaze. It had been a while since we were this close. He lightly tapped my cheek, urging me to stay conscious. His lips moved, but I couldn't hear his words clearly. My eyelids grew heavier, and eventually, I gave in to the sedative's pull, slipping back into unconsciousness...
