Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural" or any of its characters. I wish I did though.

This takes place some time during Season 2.

Thanks to my betas, Shannon and FraidyCat.

Character's thoughts in italics.

Chapter 1

Sam and Dean stopped at a convenience store on their way back to Motel 6. Dean went inside to replenish his bag of peanut M&Ms while Sam napped in the Impala.

A teenage girl was manning the counter and she smiled as Dean entered the store. It didn't take long for Dean to find the candy aisle. As long as he was in the store, he decided to pick up a bottle of water for Sam. Finally, arms brimming with what passed for nutrition on a Winchester road trip, he strolled over to the counter. As the clerk rang up his items, she kept staring and smiling at him. The cash register started making an ominous noise and the cashier frowned.

"I'm really sorry about this." She started frantically pushing more keys trying to correct her mistake. Nothing happened. "I'll be right back." She headed to the back.

Who would think that getting two items would cause such a fuss?

The teenage girl returned. She smiled again and looked at Dean in apology. "The manager will be here in about ten minutes."

Dean glanced at the store clerk's name tag and smiled. "So Sarah how long have you worked here?"

Sarah played with her golden locks as she responded. "A couple of months."

Dean nodded and flashed another smile. "So where does someone go in this town to have fun?"

Sarah batted her eyelashes. "My shift ends in a half hour. Maybe I could show you some of those fun places?"

Dean opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the arrival of the manager, who inserted his key into the register and finished ringing up the sale. The manager grumbled as he headed out the door.

Dean gave the clerk one last wink as he left the store. He walked to the Impala expecting Sam to still be dozing in the front seat but the car was empty. No signs of a struggle. Dean scanned the parking lot, calling for his brother. "Sam, Sammy!"

Sam wouldn't just go somewhere without telling him. He tried Sam's cell. It went straight to voice mail. Something was wrong.

When Sam revived, it felt like a freight train was barreling through his head. He recalled a young woman tapping on the window. She had told him she had a flat tire and needed help changing it. The last thing he remembered clearly was unscrewing the lug nuts with the tire iron. He opened his eyes, greeted only by darkness. His eyelashes rubbed against something soft. He must have been blindfolded. Wherever he was it was very quiet. He could tell that he was sitting up and strapped to something hard. Having been tied to a chair on numerous occasions in the past, it didn't take Sam long to figure out that was probably his current predicament . The damsel in distress had been a set-up.

The door creaked as it opened. He heard shoes scraping against the floor, footsteps drawing closer and finally stopping somewhere near him.

Sam swallowed and spoke, his voice raspy from disuse. "Who are you?"

The only response that Sam received was a punch in the gut, followed by another. He gasped and curled in on himself as much as his bindings would allow, hearing laughter as his tormentor's shoes scraped away.

Dean canvassed the area. No one had seen Sam. There were no cameras covering the parking lot. No way to track Sam down.

Dean was distracted by the ring of his cell. The ringtone sounded familiar as he ripped the cell off his belt. He was relieved to see an incoming call from Sam's cell on the Caller ID. "Where the hell are you?"

"Hi, Dean."

Dean didn't recognize the woman's voice, but knew it couldn't be good if she had Sam's cell. "What have you done to my brother?"

"That is for me to know and you to find out. I'll be talking to you." Before Dean could respond, she ended the call. Frustrated, he swore under his breath and forced himself to think clearly. He smiled when it hit him: Since the woman had Sam's cell, he would be able to trace the call. Dean reached into the back seat of the Impala and removed Sam's laptop from his black messenger bag. A couple of months ago, Sam had shown him an internet service that would allow them to trace the location of someone's cell. He navigated to the website and entered Sam's cell number. After several minutes the nearest cell tower was located. The only thing in that area was an old farmhouse. That had to be where someone was holding his brother.

At first Dean was pleased, but that feeling didn't last long. That was too easy to find, he thought. It has to be a trap.

Dean dialed his cell, deciding he'd do his brother no good by walking alone into a trap. He decided to call in the cavalry.

"Bobby, Sam's been taken. I could really use your help."