It felt like a jackhammer was pounding away in your skull, was your first thought as you slowly came too.

A headache of magnitude proportions was currently residing in your head, and you were afraid to open your eyes. You attempted to remember what had happened to lead up to this killer headache, maybe a drunken night with Dean, or maybe the mark had him a little more handsy than normal. Whatever it was, you promises to yourself that you would never do it again, the results were too hard to deal with.

Forcing your eyes open, you realized that both of your previous assumptions were wrong, and everything that happened came ramming back into your already pounding skull, and you moaned.

"The princess awakes, finally." A deep and British accented voice spoke, the voice coming from somewhere on your right. Rubbing the blurriness from your eyes, you turned and looked, not surprised to see Crowley sitting in a chair next to you. You were lying on a small, rickety cot, with a thin mattress between you and the metal springs, a light blanket thrown over your body. You were no longer in your blood covered clothes, instead you were dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a plain white shirt. The walls were stone, no windows in the small room, and you had no clue where you were.

"What the hell Crowley?" You asked, furious at the King of Hell.

He just shrugged, a curious look on his face, like he was almost trying to act innocent. "Can't I just want to spend some time with you?"

You laughed at that, knowing it was nowhere near the truth.

"Fine." He grumbled. "One of my minions found you floundering about, and decided it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. So here you are."

"I already figured that, but what do you want with me?" You asked, still unsure.

Crowley stood up, and started pacing the small room. Between the chair and the bed, there was just enough room to move back and forth. "I needed you out of the way. You were causing too much conflict for Dean, and I really need him to concentrate on the mark. So, you will just have to stay here for awhile."

Growling in anger and frustration, you jumped off the bed, intent on strangling Crowley, but with a snap of his fingers, he had you thrown back on the bed.

"We can do this one of two ways darling." Crowley said, while you fought against his telepathic hold. "You can stay here, until I'm finished with Dean, and then I will let you go. But if you fight me, then we will have to go to plan two."

And what's plan two?" You asked, know you would always try to escape.

"Well my dear. Thats for me to know, and you to find out. I don't care which plan you follow, as long as you are far, far away from Dean."

Crowley turned to leave out of the only door in the room, letting you free of his hold. Before you could rush him, the door was slammed shut, and you were locked into the room.

"Damn it." You muttered, looking for anything to help you, but there was nothing. Just a chair, and a bed. Not even a toilet, or sink.

You sat back down on the bed, wondering what was happening with Sam and Dean, if Sam was still trying to bring Dean down from the mark, if they were out looking for you, or if they didn't even care.

With nothing else to do, you curled back down on the bed, closing your eyes, but sleep would not come. Frantic with thoughts of how long you would be stuck here, what would happen if you tried to escape, and if Sam and Dean would ever find you. It was quite disconcerting, to know you were at the mercy of other people, stuck in a small room, with no chance of escape.

--------------------------

Hours later you hadn't moved, still laying in the same spot on the bed, the mattress under neath your head soaked from useless tears. You had to use the bathroom, but so far no one had come to check on you.

Beyond frustrated, you flopped off the bed and strode to the door, banging as hard as you could with your fist. After about a minute of not giving up, the door opened slightly, and a stony faced man peeked through. "Yes." He asked in a monotone voice.

"I'm hungry, and I have to pee." You told him.

He tilted his head in acknowledgement, before slamming the door in your face.

"Wait!" You yelled, but it was too late, he didn't answered you. So frustrated you felt tears start to well up in your eyes again, you sat down in the chair.

As soon as you sat down, the door opened, and the same guy came walking into the room, a tray with a sandwich and a glass of water on it.

"First bathroom." He told you, his voice still that flat, emotionless tone. You stood up, and walked over to him, looking up until your gaze finally hit his face. You were used to tall, after all your best friend was a Moose, but this man was tall, and built like a wall. Even if you tried to escape, you were afraid this man could kill you with one squeeze of his arm.

He roughly grabbed your arm, pulling you down an empty hallway, with doors identical to yours lining one side. Where the hell am I? You asked yourself, before he opened a door, pushing you inside and slamming the door shut behind you, grumbling "five minutes, no more."

After quickly using the toilet, and splashing water on your face, you glanced around the small, stark bathroom, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon, or an escape, but you came up empty.

Soon your five minutes were up, and Bruto (your nickname) had the door open, and your arm in his grasp again. Roughly shoving you back into your room, he shut the door, and you were once again alone, at least this time with food.