Sam pressed himself against the huge oak tree. The bark scraped against his back and irritated the already tender skin there.

The cold air was nipping at his skin, his thin and tattered clothes doing absolutely nothing against the elements.

He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. He had been here for at least three months. It was almost funny when he thought about it. The great Sam Winchester, Lucifer's vessel, and the bringer of the apocalypse, a hunter of all things supernatural finally defeated by a completely human psychopath.

It was just a normal day when this monster, really what else could this man be but a monster, had spiked his drink at the local bar and jumped him when he went outside to get some fresh air, all while his brother was flirting with the bartender.

Finally getting his breathing under control, Sam stood up and ran silently through the woods. That's all he did now, run. The first time he was caught he had been caught in a pit that was covered in leaves and sticks to disguise it. He was there for two days before his capture found him. He remembered the way his breath ghosted over his ear as he spoke.

"Strike one."

The second time he was caught it was a lot more bloody. He had tripped and his shoulder had gotten caught in a bear trap. The teeth had shredded the shin and muscle. Sam swore that it had hit bone.

The man found him quickly that time. Following the sounds of Sam's pained screams. It was the same as last time. The man let him go and he felt his disgusting breath on his skin.

"Strike two."

As he ran away, all Sam could do was be grateful that the trap had caught his shoulder and not his legs.

Now Sam was again running through the woods. His arm throbbed with every step, but he ignored it and pressed on. He was sure that the wound from the bear trap was infected, but he didn't have the time or the supplies needed to treat it.

Suddenly Sam stopped moving. Just to the left he thought he had heard. Yes! That was definitely a car. He must be near a road.

For the first time in months, Sam let himself believe that he'd get out of this. That he'd find his brother and they'd be back on the road and hunting things like normal.

However, Sam felt those hopes die when a twig snapped from right behind him. He spun around just in time to catch the manic glee in his captor's eyes as he plunged the hunting knife into Sam's ribcage.

He leaned over till his lips brushed against Sam's ear.

"Strike three, you're out."