Sam felt the coffee table breaking under him as the shifter tackled him into it. It was kind of scary how much he looked like Dean. He had seen that same expression in Dean's eyes a million times when something was threatening him.

"Even when we were kids I always kicked your ass," the shifter said.

Sam was sickened by the fact that someone other than Dean would dare act like his older brother. He didn't have much time to dwell on that, though. The shifter started choking him. He gasped for every little bit of breath he could get.

The shifter let up a little bit to prolong the fun. He grinned as Sam drew in a deep breath and then applied the pressure again, cutting off all air. He did this several times. Like a cat playing with a mouse, he soon lost interest and increased the pressure to Sam's windpipe. Sam closed his eyes as his vision turned to gray and he welcomed the darkness.

SSS

"Wait out here," Dean barked to Rebecca as he went running into her house. He could only hope that the shifter remained here with Sam and hadn't killed him yet.

He ran into the front room and saw that it had been totally trashed. He walked to the center of it and froze. It was totally freaky. He was looking at himself, shot square in the chest.

"SAM!" he yelled.

He got no response. He ran through all the rooms and then ran back outside. "Is Sam out here?" he asked Rebecca.

"No. Why? What's going on?" Rebecca asked worriedly.

"The shapeshifter is inside dead, but Sam's not there."

"Maybe he went looking for us," Rebecca suggested.

Dean calmed down a bit. That made sense. Sam had managed to shoot the shifter, who may have taunted him about having Rebecca tied up and he went to look for her.

"OK, I'll call him," Dean said. He pulled out his cell phone and called Sam. He had left the front door open and he heard ringing coming from inside. He rushed back in with Rebecca right behind him.

They followed the ringing and found Sam's cell phone partially underneath the shifter. Dean noticed that his amulet was still around its neck. He absentmindedly bent down to rip it from its neck. "Sam wouldn't have left this behind," Dean decided.

"Are you sure?" Rebecca asked. She had never known Sam to care all that much for material things.

"Yeah. He gave this to me when we were kids. I almost never take it off. He knows how much it means to me. It's my prize possession right after the Impala. He knows I hated the idea of that monster wearing it. He would have got it back for me if he could have."

"Well, what do you think happened then? Obviously the shapeshifter didn't kill him."

Dean took a closer look at the scene in front of him. "Looks like someone dragged someone out of here. There's a path through the debris. Maybe the shifter did kill Sam," Dean paused. He wouldn't entertain that possibility. Not for a second. "Maybe the shifter knocked Sam out, someone came in here and shot the shifter, then dragged Sam out of here."

"Why? Who?" Rebecca asked, thinking the whole thing sounded more than a little bizarre. Then again, pretty much everything she had heard the last couple of days sounded pretty bizarre.

"I don't know," Dean admitted. He had no idea who took Sam or why, which was going to make him really hard to find.

SSS

Sam groaned and opened his eyes. When he had last closed them, he had assumed that it was for the last time. He tried to raise his arms up off his chest, but they wouldn't move. He lifted his head up and noted that he was in a straitjacket.

He didn't appear to be restrained in any other way so he sat up on the bed. The first thing he noticed was that he was in a padded room. The walls were bright white. So bright they almost hurt his eyes. He looked over to the left and saw there was a second bed. He almost gagged when he noticed there was a skeleton in it. The skeleton was also wearing a straitjacket.

Sam closed his eyes in fear. For some reason the shapeshifter had brought him here to starve to death.

He had to get out of here. He stood up. He wasn't wearing any shoes. His pants had been removed and been replaced with sweats. He walked along the walls, kicking every inch. He couldn't even tell where the door was. It was invisible. "HELP!" he yelled. He screamed two more times, but that was all he could manage. He had nearly been strangled to death earlier, after all.

He heard a noise and turned to look behind him. He had found the door at last and someone was opening it from the outside.