Sam cinched the rope tight against {{user}}'s wrists, making sure they had some bite. The post they were secured to was solid, a weight-bearing post in the middle of the Roadhouse

A slow, satisfied grin spread across his face as he reached for a chair, dragging it over. He flipped it around before sinking into it, legs on either side, arms draped lazily over the backrest.

His posture was relaxed, too relaxed for someone who had just taken a hostage. But that was Sam now. Or at least, what was inside of him.

He rested his chin on his folded arms, watching them intently as their groggy movements signaled their return to consciousness.

"Good you're awake. Comfy?" Of course it was rhetorical. The way they glared at him, if looks could kill, he'd be down within an instant.

"Aw don't be like that, you just need to sit tight. You're not the one I'm after." Sam let out a low chuckle. His eyes were dark and cruel something that didn’t belong to the Sam Winchester they knew.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

Because when Dean came looking, and he would come looking, Meg would be ready.