Supernatural Preferences and Imagines

19 | Winchester!Brothers x Sister!Reader x Castiel

"Norton has gone night-night," Dean spoke from the other end of the line, his usual sarcastic humor seeping through the still air, making you giggle slightly under your breath.

Though you were glad to finally hear a familiar voice, your choice to snicker didn't settle well with the rest of the soldiers. With one swift nod of Sanchez's head, one of the man guarding you sends a rough fist into your stomach. You yelp out in shock, your vision swimming and your chest throbbing from the lack of air entering your body. With your hands tied behind your back and your ankles bound together, you were left vulnerable to the man preying above you. Defeated by the tremendous strength of his low blow, your body betrays you and lays down in surrender. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm, but you could already feel the bruise forming on your skin causing you to curl into the field position in hopes to protect yourself from more extensive injuries. He kicks you next, causing all the air you had managed to collect back into your lungs to fly out of your mouth in a high pitched scream. You didn't know exactly what had been broken, but you certainly felt a burning pain capture your chest, which made each breath in between beatings excruciatingly painful. Soon you were coughing up blood, causing the soldier to finally stop his vicious assault.

"Easy Collins! We need her alive," Sanchez pipes up, before focusing his attention back on Dean. "Winchester." His voice pretends to be surprised, but you can see the look of pure happiness in his eyes as he stares down at you. It was in that moment that you began to realize the boys had no idea that you were here. Your presence was only intended to be used as leverage. This thought troubles you more than the pain coursing through your body. You had been the bait many times before, but the deals were usually conducted by your brothers. Now it the enemy who held all the aces in the deck and your brothers unknowingly had the jokers.

"This the man in charge?"

Dean's voice rings from the speaker again. His tone was tough and stern bringing you a little courage. Wanting to hear the conversation better, you roll over on your back. The man from before spits in your direction, warning you not to move again. Resting your head back, you comply with his wishes.

"That's right," Sanchez replies, still eyeing you like a piece of meat.

"Well, let me tell you how this is going to go," Dean starts calmly, "You're gonna to call your boys and you're going to turn around, and nobody's going to get hurt."

Sanchez is quick to fire back as he lurks closer to you. He bends down, his eyes skimming over your battered body. You could see the words dancing on his tongue. He so badly wanted to drop your name right then and there. Make you scream into the speaker, showing his dominance over the current situation, but he stays patient, letting the moment build.

"No, no. Here's how it's going to go. I take my highly trained soldiers, track your ass down, and you get hurt. A lot." He pauses for a moment, crawling incredibly close to you in the process. "You can't run forever. You're trapped out here," he finishes, his lips brushing against to your ear. The action makes you shiver in fear. You desperately want to call out for your brother, but you know that's exactly what he wants. You weren't going to please him.

You could practically invasion the hundreds of movie references playing in Dean's mind as there is a pause of static in the radio. Biting down on your lip, you hold back another laugh, knowing you couldn't handle a second beating. At least not now.

"Well, what we have here in a failure to communicate. 'Cause we're not trapped out here with you. You're trapped out here with us."

You allow a small smile to spread across your face, but it doesn't last forever. You suddenly catch a glance of Sanchez's anger, as he roughly pulls you up from the ground in a sitting position. Digging your nails into the palm of your hand, you manage to distract your pain. You don't cry or yelp. Instead, you face Sanchez eye to eye. This causes him to take drastic actions, his free hand lightly grazing what you believe now to be your broken rib. You wince from his touch, your body wanting to cry out for him to stop. He does, but he keep his hand in place, warning you to stay still.