Dean was mad. No scratch that, what he was feeling went well beyond mere anger. Everyone knew his opinion on the matter and yet the small slip of paper had still been forced into his hand and he had been dropped off in front of the dreary building half an hour earlier, although he still hadn't gone inside. But when he heard the warning bell he forced himself to walk inside and hand over his slip. It was checked over and then he was allowed to take a seat. He sat, silently seething as the first three lots were dealt with. But by then people had notice3d he wasn't bidding so he started paying more attention and even put in a few half hearted bids, all the time making a mental note to kill his Dad at some point. But then he sat up, attention riveted to the block as the next one was led onto it.
"Lot 19 people. Twenty years old and in good health. Two previous owners. Psychic ability listed as visions of the future and some limited telekinesis. Bidding starts at one thousand." The auctioneer called and Dean found himself staring at the lanky young man. He looked tall, even taller than Dean and had shaggy brown hair. Dean couldn't see his eyes as the kid kept his head lowered as was considered appropriate for one in his situation. Something about him seemed to call out to Dean and he would have been suspicious except for the powers listed. Listening to the bidding going on he realised he didn't want to leave this young man to his fate.
"Five thousand." He called, frowning when he was outbid but then he took a deep breath and mentally went over his funds. He kept throwing out bids when it looked like someone would win and after fifteen minutes he was worried, he couldn't afford to go much higher, even with the slip from his Dad covering a big chunk of it. He waited a few seconds after his main competition placed a bid but everyone else was silent. "Nine thousand, five hundred." Dean called and held his breath as the auctioneer waited and then eventually called it, sagging as he realised he'd won. He watched as his 'winnings' were led off the stage and out a door, settling in to wait until the auction was done to pay and pick the kid up.
Thankfully there were only a few more 'lots' left and then Dean joined the queue to pay what he owed and collect his new purchase. He shuddered at the thought, fighting the urge to actually be sick at the notion of owning another person. And that was what they were; people, psychic or not they were still human.
"Name?" The bored man asked and Dean fought the urge to scowl.
"Dean Michael Winchester." He answered, watching as it was recorded.
"Don't have one." Dean answered, not surprised he'd been asked. It was unusual for a hunter his age not to have previously owned a slave.
"Very well. After the payment slip four thousand is owed. Cash or debit?"
"Debit." Dean answered, handing over his card. It was run and then he was handed a receipt along with a lot of paperwork.
"Pick up your purchase in Room nineteen. Have a nice day." The man said and Dean rolled his eyes once he'd moved away. Folding up the papers he stuffed them in his pocket and started looking for room nineteen. Thankfully the rooms were in order so it wasn't hard. He put his hand on the handle, took a deep breath and opened it only to gag at the smell that hit him. He forced his rebelling stomach under control and took in the rooms occupants. The psychic kid was crumpled on the ground and was the source of the smell while two men were standing over him, one holding a branding iron.
"What the hell?" Dean growled and the man holding the iron put it back in the coals.
"Just branding the slave for you. He's all ready to go now." The man said and with that they slipped past Dean and out the room. Dean took a deep breath and then walked over to the young man, kneeling beside him. He gagged again when he saw the red, angry letters burnt into his shoulder; DMW. He could see the faint remnants of previous owner brands but it was his initials that stood out. Of course they couldn't use the laser brands...not in this place; only the really expensive markets used those. At least they were relatively painless compared to what the people here went through. Not really sure what to do he placed a hand on the young man's arm and felt the kid cringe at his touch.
"Easy, it's alright." He soothed, looking around for something to put over the mark. Seeing a small medical kit he opened it up and gently dressed the wound as best he could. He then eased the younger man up and finally got to see his eyes; they were hazel and currently filled with pain and fear. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" Dean asked, scanning him for injuries.
"No Master." Was the quiet answer and Dean hated that but he knew there was no way he'd get the kid to use his name, yet.
"Got a name?" He asked and watched as hazel eyes hesitantly lifted to meet his for a second before being lowered again.
"Samuel." Came the soft response from a voice filled with pain and exhaustion.
"Mine's Dean. I'm going to help you up now and then we'll get out of here." Dean said and he could practically feel Sam's surprise that he was going to help him. Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's waist and then slowly stood, taking as much of Sam's weight as he could. He wasn't surprised to find that Sam was several inches taller than him and it made their position a bit awkward but nothing he couldn't handle. "Okay, let's take this nice and easy." Dean murmured as he helped Sam from the room and then outside of the auction hall. He wasn't surprised to see someone had dropped his car off and he led Sam over to it, gently easing the younger man down into the passenger seat.
Sam stared blankly out the window as his new owner drove across the city. His shoulder was killing him and he was exhausted from spending the last three days awake. He wasn't sure what to think of the Hunter yet and there was no way this Dean was anything else. Who else would or could buy a psychic? His attitude was very different to his last two owners, then again it was probably just a ploy to get Sam to lower his defences, like that'd ever happen. He didn't know which he hated more, being a psychic or being a slave. His first owner hadn't been too bad, until he'd realise Sam's powers weren't all that helpful, then the pain had begun. His second master...Sam had felt like dancing when the man had died on a hunt. He just hoped this one didn't like giving pain as much as he had. At least he'd tended the burn from the brand. Sam hadn't gotten a good look at it though it seemed to be made from initials and not a family crest or anything.
"Let me know if you're gonna be sick or anything." His Master said and Sam nodded before making himself answer.
"Yes Master." He hated having to be so subservient but it was better than a beating.
"Anything medical I need to know, food allergies or something?" The hunter asked and Sam swallowed. It wouldn't be the first time that knowledge had been used against him but he had to answer and if he was caught in a lie...
"Milk allergy Master." Sam answered and his Master nodded.
"So is soy okay?" His Master asked and Sam fought the urge to frown.
"If you wish Master."
"That's not what I'm asking. Is soy milk okay or does it make you sick?" His Master demanded and Sam flinched slightly, hating the fact that his Master saw his reaction. "I'm not going to hurt you Sam." The man almost whispered. "Guess you've got no reason to believe me though." He added at a more normal volume.
"Soy milk doesn't affect me Master." Sam finally answered and his Master nodded.
"Okay. So...I wasn't exactly planning on this. My apartment is...tiny really. Only one bedroom, not much of a kitchen and for just me it's fine. I'll start looking for a new place tomorrow. Tonight you can sleep on the couch or I can make up a bed for you on the floor since you're taller than me and the one time I fell asleep on that couch I could barely move the next morning. I haven't really shared a place with anyone since I stopped living with my Dad six years ago so it's gonna take some adjusting. I'm not planning on leaving town for a few weeks so that gives us time to settle in and work things out. When I do hunt...do you know how to fight?" His Master asked after rambling on and confusing Sam. What did it matter where he slept?
"I have had some training Master." Sam answered once he worked out that his Master had actually asked a question at the end.
"What sort? Hand to hand, weapons?"
"Hand to hand, no one would give a Slave a weapon." Sam answered as if it should be obvious.
"Huh, okay. Well we'll need to spar, see how good you are before leaving." His Master stated and Sam fought a flinch at the memory of his last Master's idea of 'sparing'. "Gonna have to get you some more clothes too, some toiletries...shopping how fun." His Master's tone almost made Sam laugh but he held it in. The thought of having clothes other than the ones he was currently wearing...it was too much to hope for. "I should have a better look at your um burn when we get there too. Clean it up, see if it looks like it'll infect or anything." As he was speaking Sam noticed they were pulling into a parking space in front of a four story building. "Here we are, home sweet home for the moment." His Master said and then turned off the car and got out. Sam bit back a groan as he fumbled with his own seatbelt only to jump as gentle hands pulled his away and undid it for him. "Just take it easy Sam; you've been through a bit today and probably the last few days. There's no elevator and we're on the top floor so I'll give you a hand up the stairs." His Master soothed, helping him from the car. At first Sam tried to take his own weight but as soon as they started up the stairs he found himself relying on his Master to help him and cringed, expecting punishment for the weakness. But it never came. "That's it Sam, you're doing great. Just one more floor to go." His Master encouraged when Sam felt like collapsing and he forced himself to keep going.
Sam practically tripped up the last few stairs, his Master almost carrying him by that point. The new brand felt like it was on fire, sending searing pain up and down his back and his head was pounding in unison with his heart. They stopped moving for a few seconds and Sam found his eyes drifting shut in exhaustion.
"Hey Sam, I need you to stay awake just a little longer." His Master called and Sam forced his eyes open. "That's it." They were moving again and all Sam wanted to do was sleep but his Master wanted him to stay awake and he feared punishment. "Here we go, just sit down." Sam pretty much collapsed rather than sat and then he felt his shirt being pulled at and tried to help but his arms weren't cooperating. "Easy Sam, you can sleep soon." He bit back a scream of pain as something cold touched the inflamed skin and a firm hand steadied him as he wavered. He was trembling and almost unconscious when it was done but he hadn't cried out once. He never even noticed when his Master briefly left his side or when he was carried over to a sleeping bag and gently settled inside.
Dean watched for a while to make sure Sam was deeply asleep before carefully getting up and leaving the apartment. He'd told Sam he would get him new clothes and he had planned to let Sam pick them out but he needed some straight away, the ones Sam was wearing looked like they were hanging on by a thread and they smelt rather ripe. He picked up some food as well when he reached the mall, knowing he didn't have enough to feed the both for very long. Then he grabbed what he needed to restock the med kit he kept in the apartment, not knowing if Sam would need more than he had. He was relieved to find Sam was still asleep when he got back. He placed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt beside Sam in the hope he would realise they were meant for him if Sam woke up before he did. He put the supplies away and then headed to bed himself.