King Nothing 3/5

[rose_the_hat]

Title: King Nothing
Author: rose_the_hat
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count 31,000-ish
Summary: In which Jensen is a powerful mob boss who has been kidnapped and Jared is his Enforcer willing to do anything to get him back
Warnings:allusions to past molestation and prostitution; graphic torture; blink-and-you-miss-it bottom Jared; PTSD
Notes:This is a companion piece to The Power Behind The Throne from Jared's POV. Yes, you do need to read/have read that to understand this.

I never planned on writing from Jared’s POV, so any inconsistencies you may notice from the previous story and this one, just chalk them up to me doing a little retconning or Jared being an unreliable narrator.

Huge thanks to jdl71 for doing the beta and being an awesome cheerleader and support even when I kept sending her the same parts multiple times to read.

Fic title and chapter titles are all Metallica songs.






3 – Some Kind of Monster


Jared did not like Misha Collins, but grudgingly had to admit he ran a clean racket. One point in his favor was he was not a child-trafficking scumbag like Jared’s former pimp Kurt Fuller. All the guys and girls that worked for Misha were twenty and over, they got to keep a large part of their earnings and were not punished if they didn’t pull down a certain amount a night. They didn’t walk around in a drug-induced cloud. As clean has the rackets were run Jared will always associate them with Fuller.

Jared is no shrink by any means, but he is smart enough to realize that his issues with Misha Collins, and prostitution rackets in general, go back to Kurt Fuller. Hell, probably even further than that to Curtis Armstrong fiddling with him. He had been so little, lonely, and confused—weak—and Armstrong had preyed on him. Then again at sixteen Jared had once more found himself lost and alone, so much like the orphaned ten year old, and again someone had preyed on him. Jared should have known better, shouldn’t have been so weak and that he had been brought shame. He has tried very hard to move past what he did and be a stronger man because of it. When Collins is around, Jared can’t help but be reminded of the broken child he used to be and even maybe still is. Jared’s just thankful he doesn’t have to come in contact with the pimp very often.

Over the years Jared thought about confiding to Jensen about his past. He already told Jensen about Curtis Armstrong grooming him and attempting to molest him. Jensen had been nothing but sweetness and understanding. The idea of telling him about Fuller, how he allowed himself to be taken advantage of fills him with shame. He was Jensen’s Second in Command, the fucking successor to his empire, and he had been so weak and pathetic. Jensen may think less of him, may sour his love like milk left out in the heat of summer. He doesn’t want to do anything that would risk losing Jensen’s love and respect. He resolves to never tell him about that dark time in his life.

“Never” ends up being six years.

In the dark, in the middle of the night, with Jensen feigning sleep in his arms, Jared spills his guts about his past as a whore. Jensen doesn’t stir, doesn’t comfort or offer platitudes. After his tale is told, Jensen knows him more completely than anyone ever has in his life, Petey included. It’s terrifying, but he knows he is safe with Jensen. Jensen will guard his heart, keep his secrets; help him carry the pain and move past the shame. Before returning to his own room just before dawn, he asks, begs, Jensen to pull the Ackles Organization out of the skin trade. He doesn’t expect Jensen to, Jared understands the prost rackets generate a lot of money for the Organization but Jensen does. His love and adoration for Jensen transform into something akin to worship when Jensen goes one step further.


One evening, Jensen enters his bedroom—their bedroom really—with an enigmatic smile tugging at that sweet mouth, and a small box in his hands. Jared is puzzled but intrigued. Jensen had gone away on business for a few days and insisted that Jared not accompany him, there was a job that he needed to take care of personally. Looking at the box in Jensen’s hand Jared wonders if Jensen might possibly be about to propose to him. The idea makes his stomach flutter and heart leap.

“It’s not my birthday and it’s too early for Christmas,” Jared, says taking the box. By its size and weight it is definitely a ring box. When he opens it nothing prepares him for what it contains.

The big gold pinky ring with the fat obnoxious ruby in the center, so like its owner. This belonged to Kurt Fuller. He could be blind and still recognize this ring. His heart pounds and he feels vaguely panicky. Jensen got this ring. Jared knows what “business” Jensen had been away on. His man had sought out that slimy fuck Fuller and had…. He swallows hard. He knows Jensen is a tough son of a bitch, that he used to do hits and interrogations for the Organization while his father was still running things. Jensen hunted Fuller down and killed him for taking advantage of Jared.

“I told you anything and I always keep my word.”

Jared dropped the box and lunged at Jensen, pressing his mouth hard onto Jensen’s, tongue invading that hot plush mouth.

“Thank you. Thank you. I love you. So fuckin’ much,” Jared pants between kisses as he backs Jensen toward the bed.

“I took good care of him, Jare. Made him fuckin’ suffer,” Jensen growls. “My contacts in Dallas PD and the FBI will take care of his human trafficking ring.”

Jared takes his mouth in another bruising kiss, pouring all his love and gratitude into the kiss.

“I want you to fuck me,” Jared breathed against Jensen’s slick lips. He’s a little surprised he’s making the offer. He has never given his ass up willingly to anyone. But for Jensen he is willing to give him everything, every bit of himself.

“Sir, I…” Jensen hesitates.

“Are you going to disobey me, baby?”

“No, Sir. Never. I just….” Jensen bows his head and his shoulders slump. “Cinnamon, Jared. Cinnamon.”

Jensen’s use of his safe word startles Jared. He and Jensen have done a lot of kinky things and Jensen has never said his word, told Jared ‘Ginger’ a few times but never called out for everything to stop. He had been sure Jensen would take what he’s offering. Jared sits on the edge of their bed, takes Jensen’s hand and tugs him down beside him. “What’s wrong?” Jared asks.

Jensen pets Jared’s hand and gazes at him with warm earnest eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he begins. He licks his lips, seeming to search for words. “I just don’t want you to feel as though you have to because I killed Fuller for you. He was a sick fuck who deserved everything I did to him.”

“He did,” Jared agrees. “And more no doubt. I love you, Jensen. You always give yourself up to me so completely; I should do the same, even if we decide it’s a special one-time thing. You mean everything to me so you should have everything.”

Color rose in Jensen’s cheeks but his eyes never waver from Jared’s, gazing deep into him and Jared does not look away. “If you are sure and aren’t doing it because you feel you owe me something, because you don’t, Jared.”

“I know.”

Jensen nods. “Okay.

“Okay. You ‘Mint’?” Jared asks if it’s okay to continue their scene using Jensen’s word.

“Very.”

Jared’s heart picks up, anticipation and nerves mix with burgeoning arousal. He leans in close, nuzzles his neck, inhales his scent. “You gonna rock your Sir’s world, baby? Gonna fuck this ass real good? I’m a big guy, so don’t worry you’re gonna break me.”

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen answers with a breathy moan.

It’s the first and only time Jensen disobeys in the bedroom. He doesn’t fuck Jared and he isn’t rough with him either. He makes love to him, slow and sweet. It’s so different from the rough quick fucks with johns in dark alleys.

When his cock breeches Jared for the first time he has a moment of panic, but Jensen coaxes him back to the here and now with gentle kisses and soft whispered words and reassurances. He expects it to hurt; Jensen isn’t a small man in any department, but he slides in easy as anything and moves with slow sensual sinuous rolls of his hips that hit Jared just right and have him gasping and clutching the man he loves. When he feels the heat of Jensen’s release inside him Jared feels…clean. Jensen owns every part of him now, mind, soul, and body and all three are absolutely safe with him.




Fury and grim determination pulse through Jared as Kane and Peter haul Misha fucking Collins into the cell. He is so fucking ready to start in on this motherfucker. He will make him talk. Collins is little worse for the wear, some cuts and bruises but no significant damage. He’s also not pleading as Pileggi had done. Jared doesn’t think this guy is gonna crack as easily as Pileggi. That worries Jared. Collins is cagy enough to realize he has all the power here. He has Jensen. Jensen has already been missing six days. Jared took too long with Pileggi. That’s on him. He will not make the same mistake with Collins.

“Where is he?” Jared asks.

“Why should I tell you?” His voice is raspy but his intense blue gaze dances with malice and a touch of insanity. Jared recognizes that look. He can see it in his own eyes when he shaves each morning.

Jared nods; he’d expected that answer. “Hang ‘im up!” Jared orders turning on one heel and striding over to the cabinet where his heavy implements are kept. He wrenches open the cabinet door and doesn’t hesitate before grabbing the barbed wire wrapped baseball bat. The wire is rusty and caked with filth, almost assuring infection.

When he turns, Petey is locking the shackles suspended from a beam in the ceiling around Misha’s wrists. Kane is in the corner tugging on the rope that, through a series of pulleys, will keep Collins suspended.

Jared crosses back over to the hanging man. He presses the end of the bat to Collins’ chin, lifting his head up so their eyes meet. “One last time. Where is he?”

Collins grins. “Lake Titicaca.”

Jared swings the Louisville slugger like Babe fucking Ruth into Misha’s knee. Jared swears he can hear the meniscus tear, ligaments rip, and the kneecap explode. He rotates the bat, letting the dirty, rusty barbs sink deep into the flesh. Misha screams in agony and color floods his face.

“I think that pitch was a little outside. I’m gonna have to adjust my stance this time.”

Jared squares up in his best imitation of a major leaguer’s stance, wrenches the bat back, and swings again; this time like David Ortiz, pure fucking power. The barrel of the bat impacts with a meaty crunch to Misha’s unprotected side. The hanging man howls and jerks, the barbed wire deeply embedding into the thin skin covering his ribs. Jared yanks the bat free, rivulets of blood seep from many wounds, like Christ on the cross.

“That one was a little high,” Jared admonishes himself. “I gotta get my timing right.” Jared squares up like Ted Williams and swings, once more hitting the knee. Misha wails and hops, trying to keep weight off his mangled knee, but the height and way he is suspended won’t allow him to.

“Ooo! I got all’a that one! It’s outta the park!” Jared screams maniacally. He drops the bat, grabs a handful of Collins’ brown hair, and wrenches his head back. “Where is he? Where is Jensen?”

Misha was breathing heavily but that sick motherfucker actually smiled up at Jared. “You’ll never find out.”

Jared snarled and hauled his fist back and slammed it into Misha’s arrogant face.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Peter and Kane charge forward to grab him and pull him off Collins. Jared’s knuckles are split and bleeding. Collins’s face is so much hamburger and that motherfucker is smiling through his split lips and broken teeth, blood trickles down his chin.

“Jared! Stop!” This from Kane.

“Calm down, Kid,” Petey said, big arm across Jared’s upper chest.

“I will make you talk,” Jared said, voice deadly soft and silky.

Collins’s eyes danced. “You…won’t,” he replied between panting breaths.


Though it is agony for him, Jared leaves Collins alone and trussed up. Jared wants infection to set in in the wounds he inflicted.

“Hey, Jared” Peter greets plopping a bag of take out in front of Jared. “You need’t eat.”

“’M fine.” Jared finishes off his coffee and peels the lid off another.

“You aahe not fine, Jay. I’ve neva seen ya less fine. When was the last time ya slept? Took a showah, changed ya clothes?”

Jared scowls. “Who are you? My fuckin’ father?”

Hurt flashes across Pete’s face. “No. But I am youah fuckin’ friend.” He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Trah to remembah that Mr. Ackles isn’t the only one that caahes for ya, and youah not the only one who caahes for him.” Pete says before walking away.

Guilt washes over him. He and Pete never fight. He snatches the bag of take out and rips it open. Inside are some boxes of Chinese. Jared takes up chopsticks and attempts to eat. He manages to shovel in some sweet and sour chicken before his mind revolts on him. What the fuck was he doing? Sitting here eating while Jensen was missing, while Jensen was probably not being fed, not given water. It’s all his damn fault, too. He should have obeyed that impulse to follow Jensen into the bathroom for a quick fuck. If Jared had done that, Jensen would never have been taken. Jared’s stomach roils and clenches. His throat opens and he vomits up what little he managed to force down.




Jared climbs the stairs to the second floor, stomach a knot of worry. He and Petey have been friends for twenty years now. He doesn’t regret rushing to defend Jensen; he does however very much regret punching Petey in the throat. It had been instinct. Jensen had been in trouble and Jared had to act, take down the threat as quickly as possible. Jensen had assured Jared he was fine and he certainly seemed as cool as ever before ordering him from the office and to see how things stood between him and Petey. Jensen knew they were close and went way back and didn’t want to be a wedge between them. Jared would pick Jensen if it came to that, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to.

The first and most logical place to find Petey would be his room. Jared’s room, so far as everyone else is concerned is on this floor as well, but its really just a place to keep his clothes and shit. He does at least attempt to make it appear lived in, but really Jensen’s room on the third floor is his room as well. He passes bedrooms belonging to Kane, Stevie Guitar, Lazy Jase. Tommy Blue and Mad Mike finally got their shit together and had a little cottage on the Ackles compound that they shared.

Jared stopped in front of Petey’s room. He had never been so unsure of things between them. He gets it. Petey thinks Jensen is using his power and influence to make Jared perform sex acts on him. That couldn’t be further from the truth but Petey didn’t know. Jared had never told Petey he was gay.

He swallowed hard and knocked on Petey’s door. “What?” A harsh raspy voice drifts through the thick wood.

“’s me, Petey. Can I come in? Please?”

There’s a few beats of silence before Petey answered. “Yeah, come in heah ya little shit.”

Jared smiles and sighs in relief. He and Petey will be just fine. He opens the door and Petey was laying back on his bed, a moleskine notebook in his lap. Petey likes to write poetry, mostly about death, sex, and romance. It’s really good stuff, deep and lyrical, but Petey thinks its shit. Even after two decades of friendship he’s still not sure when Petey is being serious or joking in that cynical self-deprecating way he does. Jared tends to think Petey puts down his writing so it won’t hurt if someone else does.

There is a dark bruise on Petey’s throat and Jared is flooded with guilt. Had he hit Petey harder it could have killed him. Easily. “I’m sorry about that.” He motions to the big purple-black bruise on Petey’s throat. “You put your hands on Jensen and I saw red. You could have hurt him.”

“I thought he was huahtin you.”

Jared nods and sits on the corner of Petey’s bed. “I get it, but it’s not like when I was working the streets. I’m gay, Petey. And Jensen and I are, you know, in love.”

Petey’s face contracts like the idea of two men being in love is a foregin concept. It probably is to him.

Jared clears his throat and gathers his courage to ask the one question that the answer to had the potential to really wound him. “Are you…. Do you….” he struggles to keep his voice steady. “Do you hate me now?”

Petey’s thick black brows come together in a line across his broad forehead. His mouth turns down in a moue of distaste. “What? Jesus, Kid. No.”

Jared feels a weight lift from his heart. Quiet descends between them and he looks around. He’s been in here a few times before. It’s decorated in shades of brown and green; nature shades. There are a couple of tall bookcases crammed with all kinds of books, history, philosophy, religion, science. There are big thick volumes with nature photographs and art. He has tasteful natural art prints hung on the walls; big sequoias and redwoods with rays of sunshine blasting through, a fiery sunset on cliffs and canyons. Jared thinks Petey would be happier working as a forest ranger or something similar.

His room looks lived in, comfortable. Jared kinda hoped once they had a real true home, not just some dump or building to squat in, Petey would be happy. Jared is happy and as settled as he will ever be but not Petey. He still seems restless and dreary at times. It makes Jared hurt for his friend.

“I don’t get it,” Petey says finally. “You don’t look like a queeah. Neitha does Mr. Ackles.”

Jared’s not going to be offended. Petey’s language doesn’t come from a place of hate. He’s just puzzled and ignorant. “Petey, gays are just like everybody else. Nothing more to it than that. I love Jensen like you loved Elizabeth.”

Petey flinched at the name. Jared hadn’t wanted to hurt him, only help him understand. “Well, I hope it doesn’t end foah you like it did foah me.”

Another lengthy silence in which Jared thinks about the bitch who broke Petey’s heart. Petey is a good guy, sensitive and a romantic at heart. He deserves a good woman to love him.

“He…he uh…he make ya happy? Treat ya right?”

Jared grins. Yeah, he and Petey are gonna be just fine. “Yeah.”

“And he don’t make ya do nuthin’ you don’t wanna do, right?”

Jared shakes his head, his grin widening. “No.”

Petey nods. “All right then. It ain’t my business no how. But if anyone else says shit to you about bein’ queeah…” He raises a fist and slams it into his other palm.

Jared laughs and rakes his fingers through his hair. “Thanks, Petey, but, you know, I’m in my 30’s now. I can take care of myself.”

Petey looks off into the distance, his eyes become cloudy and melancholy the way they did sometimes. Jared didn’t understand it, but Petey was a deep-thinking kind of guy.

“You can at that,” he says at last in a soft musing voice, like it just occurred to him that Jared isn’t that dirty scrawny ten year old anymore. He’s a full grown man, six foot five and two hundred twenty three pounds and has been in an exclusive loving relationship for the last ten years. It kinda surprised him too, now that he thought about it.




Jared enters the cell. His subject’s head is bowed and he’s breathing heavily. Jared doubts Misha is asleep, he left instructions with the other IC members not to allow him to sleep. He could have passed out from the pain but Jared doubts that as well. He also left instructions for him to be roused in the event he did pass out. The only comfort Collins is given is water, and that is mainly to keep him alive, not from any goodness in Jared’s black heart.

“Good Morning, Misha,” Jared greets, finishing off his third cup of coffee in the last hour. He bends to inspect his handiwork. Misha’s right knee is swollen about three times its normal size and looks a very unpleasant color, a few of them actually. “That leg doesn’t look at all good does it?”

Collins raises his head. His eyes are dazed, awash with pain and his mouth hangs open. There is a flush to his face, indicating fever.

“I’m really a nice guy,” Jared begins. “Take your knee for instance. It’s in a bad bad way. The Ackles Organization has a doctor on call at all times. I’m sure you know. Doc Morgan. I’ve told him a little about your…accident. He says severe trauma like this could lead to gangrene. I dunno.” Jared shrugs. “Looks like gangrene to me.” Jared sniffs and detects an odor coming from the busted knee and open wounds caused by the barbed wire. “If left untreated it could lead to amputation.”

When Misha offers no reply Jared crosses over to the tool cabinet. He examines each item, weighs the pros and cons of each one before selecting the correct implement.

“I’m a big fan of Monty Python. Are you?” Jared asks, moving to stand in front of Misha again. He holds the tool behind his back, gripping its wood handle so hard his knuckles whiten. “So many quotable lines. But my absolute favorite has to be the Lumberjack Song.” Jared brings the axe from behind his back, like a beau presenting his sweetheart with a bouquet of posies. “Tell me where Jensen is or I’m gonna take that leg and it won’t be funny like the Black Knight.”

For an instant fear flashes in those pain-shrouded eyes when he sees the ax and realizes what use Jared will put it to. Misha swallows thickly, eyes on the heavy and lethally sharp ax head, and Jared thinks that he’s won, that Collins is going to cave and cough up Jensen’s location.

“’I-…It…its ju—just a f-f-flesh wound’.”

Jared swings the ax.




Jared enters the cell. Every time he enters this godforsaken room dread and doom weigh heavy on his heart. Collins has been in his loving care for three days and he is making no progress toward getting Misha to talk. Jared is deathly afraid that Collins will be true to his word and never talk.

Collins still hangs, or rather most of him is still hanging, suspended from shackles in the center of the room. He is missing his right leg just above the knee. After amputating it with the ax, Jared had been kind enough to cauterize the stump and have it bandaged. The acrid smell of burning flesh still lingers in the room.

Petey and Kane follow Jared inside. “Put him on the table,” Jared orders. He walks over to the table containing his kit of smaller tools. “I’m done fucking around.”

Collins makes little whimpering noises as Kane lowers him and Pete removes the shackles. Pete easily lifts Jared’s subject onto the table and Kane straps him down.

“If you weahe as smaaht as you think you aah, you’d talk,” Peter advises Collins.

Jared dismisses them with a nod.

When the door closes behind them, Jared pulls the wheeled table with his tools on it close to the embalming table. Jared inspects the straps securing Misha’s hands. Jared observes the vainly clean and manicured nails.

“Where is he?”

Unbelievably Collins begins to chuckle a watery mad chuckle that makes the hair from the nape of Jared’s neck to the crack of his ass raise. “I-I-I’m…n-n-not tel-telling y-you.”

Jared struggles to hold in his anger. He occupies himself with heating the sharp metal skewers instead. “I could kill you,” Jared says conversationally.

“You-you won’t. Ca-can’t.” He laughs again and the sound of if, the mad quality in it hurts Jared’s ears and heart. He absolutely believes Collins will never talk.

No. He can’t let himself believe that. He cannot give in to despair. Jensen, wherever he is, is depending on Jared. He will not let him down.

Jared takes one of the skewers, holds it in front of Misha’s eyes. “Ar-are you mak-making shi-shish kab-kabob?”

Jared shakes his head. He grips Misha’s right hand hard and holds it. He drives the skewer under the nail of Misha’s index finger. Misha goes wild screaming and bucking on the table. His hand tries to flex but Jared keeps his grip like steel.

“WHERE IS HE?” Jared shouts over Misha’s screams, pivoting the skewer to the right and left while shoving the searingly hot needle point deeper under the nail.

“Never Never Land!” Misha howls.

Jared grabs the pliers and tears off the loosened nail.

Ten times Jared asks and ten times Collins gives some smart aleck answer: Bowlegs, Texas. Sweetlips, Tennessee. Bacon, Indiana. After each answer Jared rips off a fingernail. By the time he has removed them all, Collins has no voice with which to scream, just hoarse grunts and groans escape his open mouth and Jared is exhausted and utterly defeated.




Jared scrubs his hands over his face. Christ, he’s so fucking tired. He guzzles coffee by the gallon but it does nothing to help him stay awake. He cannot fall asleep. If he does he knows what he will dream if he does. He tugs out his phone and presses Mad Mike on his contacts. While Tommy Blue takes care of the legitimate businesses Mike has more or less taken his place in the IC. He had done some interrogations and gotten some locations and names that the others were running down. Jared didn’t think they would come to anything. Each goon they interrogate all tell a different story. It’s all muddled and confused. Jared can’t decide if Collins has done it by design or he is so inept at running a mob of his own.

“This Mike.” Mike answers after two rings.

“Jared. I need your help. Get to The Ranch ASAP.” He hangs up.

Mike pulls up to the Ranch in his Boxster fifteen minutes later. “Here as requested, sir,” he says snapping a little military salute. Jared likes Mike. He straddles the fine line between respectful but relaxed. When they get Jensen back he will ask his love why Mike isn’t a member of the Inner Circle.

Jared cuts right to the chase. “Got any blow on you?”

Mike’s brows came together briefly before his expression smoothes out. “Not this second. I can lay hands on some pretty quick though. Not to be nosy, but what do you want it for?”

“I need to fucking stay awake,” Jared snaps. Each day Jensen was missing and every second Collins refused to talk was agony. He almost regretted killing Pileggi. At least if he was alive Jared could take out his frustrations on him instead of his friends.

“I got ya, Jay,” Mike says soothingly. “I can help. Gimme a bit and I’ll be back with the really good shit.”

He was back in half an hour. He handed Jared three little white balloons. “Direct from Colombia. Hasn’t even been cut with anything yet. Be careful. You never struck me as a user, so take it easy. Mr. Ackles would have my balls for earrings if you OD on that.”

Jared’s heart clenches at the mention of Jensen. He opens one of the balloons, takes a pinch of the white powder and snorts up. His heart takes off like a racehorse after the starting pistol. Synapses fire in his brain like lightning bringing with it a renewed energy and confidence. He was gonna make that motherfucker talk. He claps Mike on the shoulder, and sniffs as liquid drips down his throat.

“Thanks.” He heads back into the cell and to his subject. Let’s just see if that masochistic motherfucker would still be smiling after Jared busts his teeth out with a hammer.




Jared maneuvers Jensen’s sleek BMW through downtown Dallas, on his way to AckTek, the software development firm under the Ackles Enterprises umbrella. He hasn’t received any updates from Aldis Hodge or Chad Lindberg since he set them to the task of tracing Misha Collins’s digital footprints. He fuckin’ told them he wanted regular check-ins and that’s what he fucking meant. Now he’s gotta take quality time away from playing with Misha to get an in-person update. Fuckers.

Jared grips the leather steering wheel and guns the powerful engine, the acceleration barely noticeable except for the needle on the speedometer ticking closer to eighty-five.

“Ya need t’ slow down, Jay,” Peter cautions from the passenger seat.

“Shut the fuck up, Pete.”

Jared squeals to a stop in front of the Ackles Enterprises building. He shoves open the door and bolts out. He pushes through the revolving door and slams his thumb into the call button. No one questions Jared or Peter’s presence at the skyscraper. Both have been here many times, familiar fixtures at Jensen’s side. Aldis and Lindberg have an upper floor to themselves. When not taking care of Organization business, they occasionally write software programs.

“Jared,” Petey says standing beside him as he twitches from foot to foot. That fucking elevator needs to hurry.

“What?”

“I’m sure if they had anythin’ t’ repoaht they would.”

The elevator opens and Jared barrels in. Peter follows on his heels.

“Pete,” Jared sighs. “I have to be doing something because every second I’m not is another second Jensen gets closer to dying. Dying, Peter!”

“He is not gonna die, Kid.”

“You keep saying that but if we don’t find him he will. I know Jensen is tough but he is human and a human can only endure so much.”

Pete looks like he wants to say something but Jared does not want to hear it. He can take no more empty reassurances.

The elevator door opens and Jared charges through and down the hall. He bursts into the office that Aldis and Lindberg share. It’s lit only with the light coming from their array of computer monitors encircling them. The two men start and turn, halfway out of their chairs. Aldis is already reaching for his gun. He stops when he sees who it is. Aldis is a handsome black man with big brown eyes, lanky build and height which rivals Jared’s own. Chad Lindberg is pretty much his opposite: pasty white and blond with a small wiry stature. Both are the best at what they do and really chill guys. Under normal circumstances, Jared likes them well enough but right now Jared doesn’t fucking like anyone.
.
“Why the fuck haven’t you been checking in?” Jared shouts.

“Sir—“

“No! Answer the fucking question! I gave you an order. You check in!”

“We have nothing of significance to report and rather than waste your time—“

“Nothing to report? It’s been eight days! What fucking good are you if you can’t figure this shit out!” Jared rails at the two hackers. “A hundred grand worth of state-of-the-art computer equipment and you can’t find shit out! Useless! That’s what you are!”

“Jared,” Pete begins, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Jared shrugs him off.

“Mr. Padalecki,” Aldis says, voice placating. “We are finding things out. That’s the problem. There is a long and involved paper trail going on. Shell companies in shell companies and trusts in trusts, like a giant Russian nesting doll. It’s going to take time to cut through it all and we will. He’s trying to hide shit but nobody can hide anything where we can’t find it.”

Jared wants to wail. Time isn’t a luxury they have anymore. Jensen fucking needs him. And Jared needs his people to fucking help him!

“C’mon, Kid.” Peter wraps an arm across Jared’s shoulders and chest and forcibly pulls him from the room. “Keep doin’ what youah doin’ guys. And thanks,” Peter says to Aldis and Lindberg.

Outside the computer room, Peter grips Jared’s shoulders, stares down at him. “They didn’t ask for that, Jared,” Peter says sounding disappointed in him. At any other time that would hurt Jared. “Theyah doin’ the best they can. We all aahe. How long has it been since you slept? Ate? All I seen ya doin’ is drinking coffee or shovin’ that shit up ya nose.”

Jared scoffs. He didn’t understand. The blind panic he’s been living with keeps escalating. He chopped Misha’s leg off at the knee, pried off his fingernails, bashed his teeth in, and nothing is working. That motherfucker was not going to talk and Jensen was going to die. He was going to die and it would be Jared’s fault.



Jared arrives at The Ranch on the ninth day after Jensen’s abduction. Peter, ever his shadow, is with him. He has one goal in mind. He is going to break that motherfucker and make him talk. Jared pauses outside of Misha’s cell to snort up. He’ll need all the energy he can get for what he has planned today.

“Jared, be careful with that shit,” Kane says from the door where he has been on duty.

“Mind your own fuckin’ business,” Jared barks. “He said anything?” Jared indicates the cell and Collins’ behind it with an upward nod of his head.

Kane gazes at him, brows together in a frown, eyes tired and worried. “No, just useless babble. I think he’s delirious.”

Jared sniffs and swallows the drip. “I am going to make him fucking talk today. I’m gonna start takin’ out organs! I want Doc Morgan here and I want him here now.”

“Jay, now hold on,” Kane lays a hand on Jared’s chest. That was Jensen’s thing, an easy way to calm Jared down and center him. He shoves Kane away.

“No! Go get him!”

Kane glances at Peter. Peter gives a helpless shrug. Kane gives a stiff nod before leaving. Jared leans heavily against the steel door, taking deep breaths, trying to rein in the panic and worry that is eating him alive.

Peter approaches him as if he were going to diffuse a bomb. “Jay, I’m woahied about ya. You don’t eat. You’re shoving that shit up yoah nose to keep yoahself awake. Youah gonna kill youahself.”

“You know, Petey. You’re the only one who knows. I’m nothing without Jensen. If he dies….”

Pete sighs, lays those big hands on Jared’s shoulders and captures his gaze. The big man looks more weary and concerned than Jared has ever known him to be. He thinks he should care about what he’s doing to his oldest and dearest friend but he just can’t. Jensen is his only priority.

“He ain’t gonna die,” Peter says with conviction. “But think about this: how would Jensen feel if he knew what you weah doin’ to youahself. Think about that next time you go to snoaht som’o that shit.”

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Petey.” To Jared’s horror he feels his eyes fill with tears, feels their hot path as they race down his cheeks.

“Aww shit, Kid,” Peter says at a loss.

They hear footsteps and Pete stands in front of Jared, using his massive frame to block Jared from the view of whoever has come in. Jared takes the moment to collect himself as best he can. It’s getting harder and harder to do.

“Doc Morgan is on his way, but, Jay, he ain’t gonna do what you’re asking. He may be a crooked doctor but he’s not a monster,” Kane says flatly and leaves.

“Jared,” Peter begins.

“Don’t wanna hear it.”

He hears his friend sigh before he follows Kane out the door.

While waiting for Doc Morgan to arrive, Jared occupies himself with getting Misha into the appropriate position for his impending surgery. He appears to be conscious. His mouth, a bloody, mutilated, maw from where Jared removed all his teeth, hangs open, and little whimpers escape. Jared freely admits he didn’t do as nice a job as he had on Pileggi. Hammers and pliers are not good dentistry tools. Who would have guessed? He rolls Misha over onto his stomach and makes a few shallow cuts into his back approximately where Jared thinks the kidneys might be located. X marks the spot and all that.

“Gonna go in riiiiight about here,” Jared drags the scalpel in a line tangential to the spine. Collins jerks and cries out weakly. “Take out a kidney. Might bake it into a nice steak and kidney pie and feed it to you. Do you like steak and your-kidney pie?” Jared asks smearing the blood welling up from the many cuts he has made.

Sometime—minutes, hours, years, it doesn’t matter anymore—later the door opens and Doctor Jeffery Dean Morgan enters, somber faced. He is a ruggedly handsome older man in his early fifties with dark wavy hair and well-manicured salt and pepper beard. He had worked for Alan and continued to work for Jensen, fixing wounds that they couldn’t exactly go to the ER for without raising suspicion or drawing the wrong kind of attention.

Jared turns away from Collins to face him, dimly aware he has written Jensen’s name in the sticky drying blood on Misha’s back, feeling as if he’s underwater with thousand pound boulders on each shoulder. “Kane told you,” Jared states.

Doc Morgan nods once gravely. “He did. Jared, you could kill him with that kind of trauma on top of what he has already suffer—“

Jared explodes. “Suffered?” Jared’s wild bark of laughter sounds unhinged even to his own ears. “Bullfuckingshit! What about Jensen? Huh? Think about how he must be suffering right now. Who knows where Misha has him and what he’s done to him!”

“Jared, I know you’re desperate, but this isn’t the way.”

“No! You’re a doctor. You know how long a person can go without food and water. Three fucking days, Morgan! Three! And Jensen’s been missing for a total of nine! He could be dead now goddamnit!” Jared realizes he’s still holding the scalpel in his hand and presses it against the doctor’s throat.

Doc Morgan grasps Jared’s wrist and moves the instrument away from his neck. With his other hand he removes the scalpel from Jared’s grasp, regarding him coolly. “Do I need to tell you that what you’re experiencing now: erratic mood, depression, and emotional instability are all symptoms of sleep deprivation? And when you compound that with cocaine usage? Do you want to tell me you’re thinking clearly? You’re not. You need to lie down and rest. You need to stop the coke. And when was the last time you ate? You’ll do Jensen no good if you don’t look after yourself.”

How can he begin to tell Doc Morgan that he can’t sleep and he throws up whatever he tries to eat? Jensen is stashed somewhere. Probably not being fed, not being given water, depending on Jared to get him back, maybe holding on to that hope is the only thing keeping him going. Jared once swore he would do anything for him. He will not let him down.

“You are putting yourself under an enormous amount of stress. You have the whole IC crew working with you, for you. They are the best. Something has got to give.”

Jared wishes he could believe that.