✓ 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑 ― Supernatural

EPISODE 23┃SACRIFICE IN A DUMPSTER

Misha Collins

The three of them walked out of the bunker. However, he thought about what the two other actors weren't telling him. Before Jensen had entered for torturing, he had walked nervously everywhere. Then Jensen asked for a pie, something he never did unless Dean was really getting into him. About two hours later both Jared and Jensen acted oddly around him.

Now Jensen opened the truck while he and Jared waited some meters away. Something cold touched his throat. Misha froze on his spot, as his eyes became two plates, he took a sharp intake of breath. Jared's hazel eyes met his own, the shock reflected his own.

Jensen turned right in that moment. "Hey, I think we are—" good to go went unsaid. Jensen's hands moved before thinking, his hands held up the Colt M1911 A1 45. caliber with seven bullets inside. He knew Misha had checked that gun a thousand times before on hunts.

"Misha is coming with me, actors, nobody gets hurt," the gruff said beside his ear. Misha tried to keep his heart rate under control. Misha started frightened at his two friends. Tears threatened to spill out.

"H-hey," Misha said. That drew the attention of the gunman. "Let them be," he continued.

Jensen's lips pressed to a thin line. "You sure about this? I am sure as hell kicking his ass when I get the chance," Jensen slipped back into acting mode without batting an eyelash. Jared moved closer to Misha as he holds his hands up.

"Whatever you want, we can talk it out. There is no need to use violence." Jared's were inches away from him now, his warmth assuring to Misha. He really needed to regain control over his breath.

"I am afraid, that isn't the case," Misha noticed the gunpoint from his head was moved and directed at Jensen. A shot was taken. Jensen grabbed hold of his right arm where blood soon covered his flannel shirt. Pain bypassed Jensen's eyes for a second before he grits his teeth together.

Jared glanced worried at Jensen. "You all right?" He said. Jensen nodded slowly.

Jared turned to him again, "Misha, we will fix it. Trust us. We got our ways," Jared said. He ran over to Jensen and took the gun. His gaze in determination. He had the gun at his enemy's head in height. One bullet would be everything he needed to save him.

Then the gun was at his skull again, the man gripped hold of him over his neck. Yup, description for failure. Misha wished he had Castiel mojo to save everyone but he didn't. He was just...Misha. "I will kill him, if you shot me," the man snapped.

Misha's jaw clenched. He was in an impossible situation to get out of. What he had done to deserve this, he didn't know. Jared raised his palm open as he kneeled to put the gun down on the grass. Jensen looked ready to spit out insults but he kept his mouth shut.

A touch on his shoulder and Misha was gone from where he stood. Instead, his gaze met with a closed room. He was pushed to the chair and bound fast to it. Misha attempted to free his hands. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," the kidnapper said. He couldn't see him since he was behind his back.

Misha closed his eyes and tried to think about pink ponies to distract himself from the horror he now was in. Misha scanned the walls for any signs of an exit. There was a bolted metal door in front of him, the chair froze his ass off. "I think you need better hospitality services," Misha commented.

"And you should know your place," the gruff voice responded and he got smacked in the backhead until Misha saw stars, rainbows instead of vision.

Misha spat out blood, the metal taste makes a sick twisted feeling in his chest return. Misha licked his lips, the burn hit strongly. He laughed, one that didn't reach his eyes. "I honestly never thought, I would end up in Supernatural. Like, you guys are crazy. I am famous where I am from." A hand clasped around his jaw, stopped him from moving. Misha stilled in the chair.

"But here, you are nobody and they won't save you. They never cared about you anyway," the man said. He let go of his jaw and moved away from him.

A cold chill went down his back. The man was serious about it. Misha opened and closed his palms a few times before he frowned. "That means if I kill you. I don't get to prison, how does that sound?" He opened his eyes. Misha leaned back to look at the ceiling above his head. A bitter reminder of his earlier years.

"You don't have the guts for that," the man laughed. He played with a knife behind his back. "We got plans for you. And there are people out there that if they found out the truth who you really are. That you are no hunter, no angel. What then?"

Misha smiled then. "I have gone through my own hell, thank you very much. I am an actor. This is just a level higher than what I usually do. Nothing a Collins can't handle, my friend," Misha said. He ducked his head. "Anyway, how long do you plan to have me here?"

The man moved in front of him. He wore a sweater two sizes too big for him, his eyes light brown. However, he had a strong jaw, two freckles above his left eye. The kidnapper folded his hands in front of him. "Until we don't need you anymore," the man began. "Then we kill you," he shrugged as if that was something he did all the time.

"Not happening, you rude ass," Misha lost it. "My friends will look for me and kill you guys. I know. They won't leave me behind."

"Do you believe that?"