So I had a rather strange dream a few months ago and this is the result. I had intended for this to be a one shot, and it still is, just a long one. So I'm splitting it up into two parts. Dean Ambrose is a fairly new interest for me, so I'm not as familiar with him as I am with the other characters I've written about. Hopefully, this story will turn out as well as the others anyway. We'll see how it goes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?

Part 1

In the dead of night, across a lonely and forsaken landscape, fathomless stars and sparkling moonlight faded to black behind a thick blanket of ominous clouds. Far below the dense canopy, a lone figure paused and exhaled a shaky breath, the foggy puff of air quickly evaporating into the darkened gloom. Her body damp with perspiration from her exertions, the woman shivered both from fear and cold, as she frantically surveyed the land around her in her search for sanctuary. This place. This street. This town. Nothing here was familiar to her. She had no idea where she was. Or in which direction safety might lay. She only knew that she needed to find somewhere to hide. And she needed to do it quickly.

The particular street she found herself on was completely deserted, the burnt out streetlamps blending with the vanishing moonlight to offer an unlimited array of shadows in which to hide. But whatever concealment they might offer to her, they would also offer to another. Making it impossible to see his approach. Rendering him nearly invisible in the night.

No, she needed to find a safer haven. Something that would offer more protection. Scanning her surroundings, she was dismayed by her lack of options. To her left lay a vast, empty field, the slight breeze swaying the tops of the knee-high grass in whispering waves. The thick clusters called to her, taunting her, offering the promise of shelter, but there was no possible way she could work her way through the fragile stalks without leaving an obvious trail behind. The view to her right was only slightly better, with a sparse line of dilapidated houses dotting the landscape, broken windows and doorless entries providing proof that the aging structures had long been abandoned. Like the shadows, she was certain they afforded many places to hide. But with no way to lock herself in – or another out – they would be virtually worthless.

Keeping a constant eye out for her pursuer, she continued further down the empty street, limping from the pain in her legs and feet. The black heels that she wore certainly were not ideal for the task she had been compelled to undertake. But there had been no time to prepare. She had been forced to flee with only the sparse clothing on her back - a thin, sleeveless blouse and a short, black skirt – which also did little to protect her from the rapidly dropping temperature of the evening.

She stumbled onward, her panic rising as the decrepit houses began to grow further and further apart, her chances for safety diminishing with every step. Exhausted and close to tears, she had nearly given up, when a faint beacon of hope broke through the darkness. Up ahead, perched atop a small hill, stood a large Victorian style home, which easily overshadowed the other structures below. And while the house's exterior was as aged and worn as the others before it, it differed in one major detail. In one upstairs room, through a dirty but solid pane of glass, a soft light glistened, the golden rays beckoning to her across the deserted terrain. Instantly, her spirits lifted.

Here was the refuge she sought. Herein laid the salvation she so desperately needed.

Scrambling up the pitted lane that had once surely been a majestic driveway, she managed to avoid the holes and gullies where the ground had washed away, the tall weeds lashing against her bare legs as she rushed closer toward the looming structure. As she reached the wide steps that led up to the front door, she paused momentarily, wondering if the wooden planks were still sturdy enough to support her weight. The structure looked much worse up close than it had from the street, and she stepped on the bottom tread gingerly, relieved to find that it held fast beneath her. Bounding up the remaining steps, she skidded to a stop in front of the solid wooden door and began to knock frantically. She beat her fist against the worn surface repeatedly as she fought the urge to cry out for help, fearful the sound would bring her pursuer running all the more faster. Glancing over her shoulder, she wondered how much longer her luck would continue to hold out. At this rate, by the time the person inside made it to the door, it would be much too late. Unwilling to waste any more time, she tested the knob and was surprised to find that it turned easily in her grasp. With only a moment of hesitation, she swung the heavy door open and stepped inside the house.

"Hello?" She finally called out as she entered the foyer, making sure the door was closed securely behind her. Fidgeting nervously, she stood in place as she waited for the answer that never came.

Squinting, she scanned the lightless interior, searching for any sign of the home's occupant. As her eyes adjusted to the gloomy shadows, she was surprised to see that the space looked deserted, what few random pieces of furniture that remained having been draped with heavy, white sheets to protect against the elements of time. There was no movement. No sound. And no light, save for only the faint trace visible at the top of the stairs, projected from the room she had seen from the road outside.

Spotting the outline of the staircase directly in front of her, she stepped forward and carefully but quickly ascended the aging treads. They protested loudly, even under her insubstantial frame, but she paid little mind to their vociferous warning as she clamored toward the dreary platform at the top. Again she called out, seeking assistance, but the only sound that returned was the echo of her own voice as it vibrated off the tall, empty expanse of the walls.

At the top of the stairs, she turned to the right, the glow from the well-lit room spilling across the threshold into the otherwise darkened hallway. Still on edge, but with a helpless sense of desperation, she crept closer, the frantic urgency of her situation spurring her on. Pausing just outside the doorway, she strained to hear any sign of movement from within the enclosed space. But if there was any to be heard, it was easily overshadowed by the frantic beating of her heart.

Gathering her nerve, she forced herself to step forward and turn the corner, her hands raised in a gesture of surrender toward whoever might be inside. In the next instant, she faltered, her blood running cold as she took in the sight spread out before her.

Like the bottom floor, this room was also nearly empty. But the items that had been left behind were enough to run her blood cold. In the center of the floor, in front of a tall, upright mirror, a worn, bare mattress had been placed. And scattered around it, in a series of erratic patterns, were dozens of candles of varying shapes and sizes, their combined luminescence offering the false sense of security that had lured her inside. Gazing out across their shimmering surface, she felt her stomach roll, her heart sinking.

It had all been a trap.

He had intended to draw her here all along.

As though on cue, she heard the front door below open, then close again with a heavy thud. Fear propelling her to action, she spun around, frantically searching for someplace to hide. There were several doorways located along the hallway where she stood and she darted for the nearest one, praying that it offered some type of concealment. As she crossed the threshold, she was met with a familiar sight, what meager furniture the room contained having been covered with the same heavy, white tarps as the items on the floor below. Quickly surveying her choices, she selected a peculiar shaped piece mid-way across the room and was relieved to find it was an antique sofa, which was tall enough to allow her to slide underneath. She scrambled beneath the cloth, carefully tugging it back into place, and tried to slow her panicked breathing, reciting another silent prayer that her presence would remain undetected.

As the minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness, she rested her forehead against the cold, dusty hardwood, closing her eyes as she replayed the events that had led her to this moment. Again, she cursed herself for not being more careful. Given his history, she should have known he was not a man to be messed with. And she realized now, with growing terror, that she had grossly underestimated his ability to hold a grudge.

She was Natalie Simms, current wrestling diva and antagonist extraordinaire, not to be confused with her annoyingly pleasant co-worker, Natayla Neidhart, although that was a mistake few people were apt to make. Unlike her straight-laced counterpart, she herself was no stranger to trouble and it was no secret that she was not well-liked within her professional circle. If there was some kind of mischief to be created or a pot to be stirred, more often than not, she was right in the thick of things, having been the instigator on the majority of occasions. So when she had been approached about the particular deed in question, she had jumped at the opportunity. Just the thought of being able to knock some of the company's biggest up-and-coming stars down a few notches had filled her with giddy pleasure, the likes of which even Mrs. Goody Two-Shoes herself had likely never encountered. She despised their arrogance and although she hated to admit it, she was envious of their sudden rise to fame. It wasn't fair that she'd been with the company so long, and had worked twice as hard, only to have been given a miniscule portion of the opportunities that had been handed to them. And if there was some way for her to turn the tide in her favor, even if it was just for a moment, then she couldn't see any reason why she shouldn't take the risk. Or, at least, she hadn't at the time.

She shivered as the stark reality of her situation began to sink in, cursing the decision she had made. If only she hadn't interfered. If only she hadn't caused the loss of that which they had held most dear. She could still hear the echo of her own laughter as she celebrated with her own comrades, the spoils of their victory held high over their heads as they paraded out of the ring and up the ramp. And even now, she could remember oh-so-clearly, how she had given a final, fateful glance back toward the middle of that squared circle, her eyes locking with the man who was still kneeling on the mat, glaring at her -the self-proclaimed leader of the group, Dean Ambrose. His fury obvious, there had been no misunderstanding the words he had mouthed to her, which now resounded with such truth inside her head.

You will pay.

That had been weeks ago. She was ashamed at how quickly she'd forgotten his silent threat, her attention shifting to more important issues. There was always trouble to be found. And if not found, it was easy to be made. There had been plenty of other things with which she could fill her time. But he hadn't forgotten. She understood that perfectly now. He'd simply been biding his time. Watching. Waiting. Planning.

She didn't know how he'd managed it, but she realized now that he was responsible for everything that had happened to her throughout this fateful night. The erroneous detour. The defective automobile. The disappearance of her cell phone. This phony refuge. And now she was caught in this terrifying game of cat-and-mouse that he'd so carefully constructed, with any prospect of help miles out of reach.

The sound of footsteps in the hall outside the room pulled her back into reality, and she clamped a hand over her mouth as she tried to hold back the whimper that threatened spill forth. She was dejected to hear that there was no sense of urgency in his stride, each heavy footfall resounding with a slow and steady thump as he casually stalked his helpless prey. She had no trouble picturing the look of satisfaction that surely graced his face, his blue eyes twinkling with the enjoyment of knowing she had easily fallen for his ruse.

She heard him pause, no doubt taking a brief moment to admire the charade he had so carefully crafted in the room across the hall. Then he was on the prowl again, each ominous step growing increasingly louder as he drew nearer to the room where she was currently tucked away.

Even if she hadn't been able to hear his approach, she knew the exact moment he entered the room. The air around her seemed to thicken, its heavy weight settling over her like a blanket. She could sense the anger that still consumed him, its fiery passion radiating in heated waves that vibrated across the space, the atmosphere thrumming with the destructive force of his energy. He stilled again and with each second that passed, she felt her doubts rise. Did he know where she was? Had he found her already? Her mind raced frantically, wondering if, in her haste, she had somehow left a clue behind. A smudge, a footprint, a wrinkle in the sheet – the slightest disturbance would be all he needed if he was observant enough. Keeping time with the pulse that throbbed in her neck, she counted off each excruciating minute, waiting for the fateful moment when she knew he would pounce. But instead, much to her surprise, he departed abruptly and she exhaled a quiet breath of relief as she listened to his footsteps fade away down the empty hall.

Grateful for the temporary reprieve, she tried to gather her thoughts as she contemplated what her next move should be. She had to get out of this house. And she desperately needed to find some help. But she had no idea how far she would have to travel, and in which direction, before she might stumble upon civilization again. At this point, her only other option was to find a weapon she could use to defend herself, and if possible, contain him somehow, so she could have a chance to get away. How on earth she would ever do that, she didn't know. But she knew as long as she was stuck under the same roof with this man, she would never be safe.

Considering her options, she was startled by the feel of something brushing ever so slightly against her bare leg. It was soft and fleeting, nothing more than a whisper of air she assumed, yet she felt the goose bumps creep over her flesh at the sensation. Reassuring herself, she shook it off as she resumed her train of thought. After all, it wasn't unusual for a house of this particular age and condition to be cold and drafty. As she tried to remember the route that had led her to this place, she wondered if she would be wise to backtrack her trail. Perhaps there was another road she had missed in her earlier haste...

Again, something grazed against her, zigzagging over her foot. Once. Twice. Instinctively, she kicked out in defense, but she realized all too late that it was a fateful mistake. She heard the soft squeak beside her ear, moments before she felt something run over her hair and along her back, realization setting in with terrifying clarity. A mouse! And not just one. Dozens of them, no doubt disturbed by her sudden and unwelcome presence under the aged furnishing they now called their home. Her sudden kick had sent them scurrying in all directions, around her and over her, their furry coats and straw-like tails trailing across her bare skin as they clamored for safety. Fighting back a shriek of horror, she scrambled from beneath the sofa, swatting at her hair and clothes to remove the stragglers that accompanied her. As they fell to the ground and scurried back to the comfort of their nest, she stared after them wide-eyed, and backed away from the couch warily, as though any moment it might spring to life and pursue her itself.

Her sanity wavering, she backpedaled toward the doorway, anxious to be as far away from the room and its filthy occupants as she could get. Turning on her heels, she darted recklessly for the door. And stumbled right into the embrace of the man who had suddenly blocked her path.

"Hello, darlin'. I've been lookin' for you." Dean taunted with a sickening grin as he gripped her upper arms in a solid grasp. Too stunned to react, she could only stare up at him with an expression of complete surprise as his fingers dug painfully into her skin, no doubt leaving marks that would be visible for days to come. Then he released her arms in favor of her hair, his fingers winding through the thick, dark locks as he roughly spun her around, his free arm looping about her waist as he half-carried, half-dragged her toward the lighted room.

"Let go of me!" She screamed, finally regaining her composure as she clawed at his arms, trying her best to squirm her way free. Planting her feet firmly against the floor, she tried to stall his forward momentum, but she was only successful in losing both of her shoes in the process. "Get away from me!"

With a chuckle, he obeyed her command, shoving her roughly so that she lost her balance and tumbled forward onto the dirty mattress in front of her. Instantly, she was on her hands and knees, her fingers digging into its pitted surface as she struggled to get away. Then he was on top of her, his predominant weight settling on her lower back as he straddled her flailing legs. Hooking a forearm beneath her chin, he pulled her head back sharply, forcing her to face her own terrified reflection in the mirror. To her dismay, the vision easily revealed the severity of her situation, her own eyes wild with fear and panic, while his blazed with deranged satisfaction.

"Please..." she whimpered, hating the weakness the sound conveyed, the strain on her back unbearably painful. The position left her virtually immobile and any attempt to loosen the arm around her neck was both feeble and useless. With a smirk that was all too familiar, Dean gave her hair a rough jerk and she cried out in pain as his gaze met hers in the mirror.

"Well, what do we have here? From the look of things, I'd say the troublemaker just found a little trouble of her own." The smirk disappeared as quickly as it had materialized, his expression growing serious as he leaned closer over her shoulder. "I told you that you would pay. Didn't I warn you?"

"I...I'm sorry..."

"You're sorry?" he repeated with a laugh. "Well, that makes everything better doesn't it? Tell me sweetheart, are you sorry for what you did? Or just sorry that it finally caught up to you?"

"I'm sorry." she repeated with a raspy breath, her mouth suddenly dry, her throat constricted by the unnatural tilt of her neck. "I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have done anything..."

"No, you shouldn't have. But, that doesn't make much of a difference now, does it?" he questioned, his voice laced with contempt. "You wanna know what I think? I don't think you're sorry at all. Believe me, I've heard all about you. How you love to stir up shit any chance you get. How you like to cause problems for everybody. So don't tell me that you're sorry. You enjoy it too much. But you picked the wrong guy this time, didn't you darlin'? Maybe you don't know much about me, but I've been known to dish out a little trouble of my own from time to time. And the funny thing is, no matter what I do to you, nobody's gonna care. Nobody likes you. Nobody's gonna miss you. Nobody's gonna come looking for you. And the best part is, nobody's gonna feel a damn bit sorry for you. You deserve everything you're gonna get. And I'm going to enjoy giving it to you."

The weight of his words crushed her, their truth resounding with painful accuracy. He was right. Nobody would miss her. And they certainly wouldn't care about whatever might happen to her. The danger here was as real as it was ever going to get. She wasn't stuck inside the plot of some thrilling novel or blockbuster movie. There would be no unsung hero to rush to her rescue. There would be no last minute save. She was in this all on her own. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as another wave of fear rippled through her.

"Please let me go." she pleaded, in a last ditch effort to save herself. "I won't say anything to anyone. I promise. And… I'll fix it. I'll make things right..."

"I think it's a little too late for that." he growled, interrupting her. She cringed as she watched him move closer, his mouth lowering to her ear. "But I tell you what. Maybe it's all this fun we've been havin' tonight, but I'm feelin' a little generous. So, here's what we're gonna do. Since I know how much you like games, I've got a good one for you. And we're gonna play, right now. But don't worry, the rules are simple. I'm gonna let you go. And you've got two choices. Stay and fight. Or run." He laughed again, the smile that graced his face acknowledging the fact that he really wasn't giving her much of a choice at all. "I'll even be nice enough to give you a head start," he continued, his grin growing wider. "But I'll give you fair warning darlin'...if you run...if you think you can find a better place to hide...you better make it good. 'Cause if I find you again...well, I'll just let that part be a surprise..."

She felt his weight shift above her, his arm loosening about her neck and she tensed, ready to spring away the moment he released her. She had absolutely no intention of hanging around long enough to try to fight him off. Or to play his stupid games, for that matter. The only thing she wanted was enough time to escape downstairs to the front door and the freedom that awaited her on the other side. Let him search for her all he liked. She could guarantee he wouldn't get lucky again.

"You know, just to make it fun…" He paused again and she could practical see the warped wheels spinning inside his head as she watched him through the mirror. "I'll even count to a hundred. That should give you enough time to find a nice, safe spot. Besides, I feel up to a little challenge. After all, we have to keep things exciting, don't we?"

He planted a kiss on her cheek and she turned her head away in disgust, her fingers clawing at his muscular forearm as she tried to pry it loose from her throat. Then in the next instant, she was free, and she quickly scrambled to her feet and headed for the door, his gravelly voice echoing behind her as he began to count.

Surrounded by darkness again, it took her a moment to regain her bearings before she took off down the hall and toward the staircase that would lead her to safety. Still barefoot, she bounded down the stairs two at a time, her breath exhaled in a heavy gust as she roughly landed on the floor at the bottom. Rushing across the foyer, she was relieved when the faint outline of the door came into sight. Just a few more steps and she'd be free…

As she reached for the door knob, she pulled up short, the joy she'd felt seconds earlier dissipating into the gloom. The knob was still there, just as it always had been. But it was now accompanied by a thick, heavy padlock which had been laced through the latch plate above it, effectively securing the worn door to its frame.

"No, no, no…." she mumbled to herself as she tried the doorknob anyway, jerking and twisting, beating and cursing. But it was just as she'd thought. The door itself barely even moved. Thumping her forehead against the aged wood, she slapped her hand against it in frustration. She understood fully now why he hadn't shown any reluctance at the thought of letting her go. In his eyes, he'd made sure she had nowhere else to run.

The windows!

The idea flashed through her mind as she recalled having seen windows on either side of the door as she'd stared up at the house from the street outside. Feeling her way to the right, she wandered into the next room, groping for the draperies that no doubt still covered the shimmering panes. Finally finding what she was searching for, she jerked the curtains open, prepared to break her way through. But to her disappointment, instead of the smooth glass she had expected to see, she found only a darkened piece of wood that had been strategically nailed in place over the broad opening. Running her fingers along the rough edge of the lumber, she buried her fingernails beneath one corner and tugged with all her might. But, just as the door before it, the wood refused to budge.

With her heart pounding and hands shaking, her desperation flared as she crossed the empty foyer once more and entered the first room to the left, searching for the identical opening she knew was there. But even as she jerked aside the heavy drapery that covered it, she knew what she would find - another solid piece of wood that closed off any chance she might have to escape.

Holding in a scream of fear and frustration, she wiped away the tears that spilled across her cheeks. She couldn't fall apart. Not now. She had to keep her wits. Use her head. Even if she was at an extreme disadvantage, she couldn't let herself give up just yet. There was simply too much at stake for her to even entertain the thought.

From upstairs, she could hear the faint but steady rumble of Dean's voice as he continued his demented countdown toward whatever cruel fate he intended to bestow upon her, and she realized with mounting horror that she was quickly running out of time. Turning around, she stared into the unknown, squinting as she tried to see through the heavy shadows and gloom that filled the space. The interior of the house was even more dark and foreboding than the parts she'd already experienced and she was reluctant to venture any further into its dangerous depths. But by now, she couldn't see that she'd been left with any other choice.

With her hands braced in front of her to avoid a collision with any unexpected obstacles, she ventured forward, wandering blindly through a growing maze of what she could sense were mostly empty rooms. And though she lacked both a light to guide her and the time needed to thoroughly explore each space, she realized that in the end, it made little difference. After all the trouble he'd gone through to set his plan in motion, of course he'd make sure there were a limited number of places she would be able hide. It had already become painfully obvious that he'd done everything he possibly could to stack the deck in his favor. It was foolish for her to think he might have let such an important detail pass him by.

A heavy thud resounded from somewhere overhead, interrupting her thoughts, and she paused as her gaze shifted nervously in the direction of the ceiling. What the hell was he doing up there? Was her time up already?

Assuming the noise had been a warning signal for her benefit, she picked up her pace as she entered yet another abandoned room. It took only a few moments of exploration for her to determine that this room had once been the kitchen, as her hands lightly trailed along the cracked, dusty surface of an old countertop. Suddenly stricken with inspiration, she knelt to the floor and let her hands wander, until she discovered a pair of smooth, round knobs that still graced the doors of the existing cabinetry. She jerked them open, relieved that the hinges made only a minimal amount of noise, and felt around inside the opening. She was thrilled to find that not only were the cabinets empty, but they were large enough to allow her to crawl inside. Tucking herself away for the second time that evening, she sank her fingernails into the soft, crumbling wood of the door's interior and pulled them discreetly closed behind her as she settled into place. She only hoped that this time, she wouldn't have to share her hiding place with any unwelcome intruders.

The space was not nearly as wide as she had first hoped and she was forced to sit hunched over with her knees pressed tight against her chest, her arms wrapped around them as her head rested uncomfortably on top of the bony knobs. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on trying to slow her heart rate and her breathing, while not succumbing to a raging coughing fit. Her eyes burned and her throat itched and she was certain that if she managed to survive this ordeal, she'd never get rid of all the dirt and dust she'd inhaled while rolling around in all the filth. With a dismal sigh, she considered the hotel room reserved in her name that still sat silent and empty, awaiting her presence, so many miles away. How she longed to be tucked away behind the safety of those four walls, while she enjoyed the simple pleasure of a relaxing bath and a nice, hot meal. She could practically taste the crisp, refreshing flavor of the wine as it passed across her lips, could almost feel the soothing warmth of the water as it washed over her delicate skin. And afterward, she imagined how wonderful it would feel to shed the plush bathrobe from her lean body and slip naked beneath the cool, clean sheets of the bed and pass away the remainder of the night in peaceful slumber as dreams of luxury and extravagance danced through her head.

With a frown, she hugged herself tighter. Despite her circumstance, she held out hope that not all was lost. Perhaps, if luck were to finally be on her side, she could keep Dean at bay long enough for his interest in his sick game to wan. Or even better, that he might assume she had somehow managed to escape, despite his best efforts. And once he was gone, she could quietly slip away for real, and with a little bit of faith, she could possibly find herself inside the confines of her own welcoming room by morning.

Somewhere in the distance, a loud crash echoed throughout the house, and she jerked her head up in surprise, cursing to herself when it bounced painfully off the underside of the countertop above her. Rubbing her head as the fogginess faded from her mind, she was surprised to find that in her exhausted state, she had apparently drifted off to sleep. How long she'd been out, she didn't know. But if the noise that had awakened her was any indication, it had apparently been long enough for him to begin to lose his patience. She supposed that was as good of a sign as any. Impatience would make him careless. And if he was careless…well, that might just provide her with the opportunity she needed to save herself.

Now fully awake, she pressed her ear against the inside of the cabinet door and listened as a second noise traveled across the empty rooms, this one louder and much closer in proximity. He was talking again – she would recognize the sound of his voice anywhere - but whether the dialogue was directed toward her or for his own benefit, she couldn't determine. Then, as before, everything seemed to grow deathly quiet again. For several long minutes, there was nothing, the silence so heavy and thick that her own shallow breathing seemed as loud as a thousand screams to her own ears. Then the light appeared.

Over the years, the countertop had warped, pulling away from the top of the cabinetry, leaving a space wide enough so that someone could easily slide a couple of fingers in between the two pieces. It was through this thin gap that she watched as the light, so soft and subtle at first, flared to a golden luster as he stepped into the room, the thick base of a flaming candle gripped securely in his hand. Her fists clenching, her anger flared anew at his smug display of confidence. Of course he would give himself the added benefit of light. How else would he be able to successfully search for any clues she might have left behind. As he paused just inside the doorway and his gaze traveled around the room, taking stock of potential hiding spots, she prayed that whatever mistakes she might have made had been few and far between.

Now that the room was partially lit, she could see that it was a fairly small space, at least by modern day standards, made even more cramped by the large wooden table that was positioned in the middle of the room. The table itself was long and narrow, undoubtedly meant to mimic the flow of the counter top under which she now hid and she considered it a miracle that she hadn't crashed into the solid looking structure as she stumbled around blindly in the dark. She watched helplessly as Dean stepped further into the room, any hope that she had for him to make a quick retreat vanishing as he placed the candle on the corner of the table closest to him. The determination visible in his features, she cursed silently under her breath again as he began to slowly pace about the room instead.

She held stock still, unwilling to let a single muscle twitch as he walked between the table and wall furthest from her, his eyes roaming in much broader circles than his footsteps might wander. Still, there did not appear to be a sense of urgency in any of his actions, a grin of pure, unadulterated enjoyment gracing the lines of his face as he casually strolled along. As he disappeared from her line of vision, she found herself holding her breath, for she knew as long as he was out of her sight, she could only assume he was up to no good. Then his shadow broke through the thin ribbon of candlelight that shimmered from across the room, and she fought the urge to scurry deeper into the back corner of her hiding place as he silently strode past on his way back toward the doorway.

His circuit completed, a cautious spark of hope flared within her. If he would just pick up the light and go, she would be home free...

As though she had somehow issued a silent command, Dean reached for the candle on the table beside of him, as he started for the door. Then he paused again, before he turned to survey the room for a second time. Leaving the candle in its resting spot, he began to pace, retracing the slow circle he'd made around the room only moments before. He disappeared from sight again, the seconds ticking by, then minutes, as the tension rose to a nearly unbearable level. Then his shadow fell across the candlelight, momentarily blocking it from her view as he passed her by on his second journey back toward the doorway.

Still undiscovered, her shoulders sagged with relief and she blinked slowly as the candlelight flickered back into sight from across the room, the flame dancing eagerly in the stifling air. And though her eyelids closed only briefly, when she opened them again, she found herself peering into the pair of haunting blue eyes that had suddenly appeared on the other side of the crack at the top of the cabinet. Her heart leaping in her chest, she felt her blood run cold as Dean's voice broke through the night.

"Tag. Your it..."

xxxxxxxxxxx

Part 2 coming soon! :)