Chapter Two

Dean zipped up his fly and washed his hands in the sink, standing on the tips of his toes in order to reach the tap. His stomach growled hungrily and he hoped his father wouldn't be much longer getting their food.

After drying his hands quickly, Dean walked down the short corridor that separated the bathroom from the dining area and back into the food court. The smell of burgers wafted over the boy and he picked up his pace.

Dean strolled past families and couples enjoying their take-out food and the chance to rest before they too, continued on their own journeys. Turning to look at the lineup for McDonalds, Dean saw his father near the front and smiled eagerly.

The eleven-year old returned to the table he'd been sitting at earlier- glad that no one had stolen it while he was using the restroom- and turned to watch his little brother play… only Sam wasn't there.

Dean's heart skipped a beat and his eyes darted nervously around the open area where he'd last seen his brother.

Maybe he decided to go stand with Dad, the boy thought and relaxed.

Dean waited for about ten seconds before standing and making his way to the McDonald's counter. He smiled when he saw his father but the grin slid off his face when he saw that John was alone.

Sam couldn't have gone to the bathroom, Dean told himself, I would have seen him.

The eleven-year old felt panic rise in his belly and he nearly ran back to where he'd been sitting. He climbed up onto the seat and onto the tabletop to get a better view of the area surrounding him.

"Sam!" Dean called out; drawing the attention of people eating nearby but he ignored them, "Sammy!"

The boy expected to see his little brother appear as if from thin air, giggled because he'd gotten the jump on Dean but Sam didn't return.

"Sam!" Dean cried out again and he swore as someone grabbed him around the middle, lashing out with his fists and kicking his legs.

"Get off me!" the boy snapped angrily but stopped fighting as soon as he saw who was holding him- the rest area's security guard- and went limp.

The guard- a man in his seventies- set Dean back on the ground and squinted down at him.

"Are you alright, son? You sound as if you're looking for someone," the kindly guard said and after only a slight pause Dean nodded.

"I can't find my brother," the eleven-year old admitted. Although Dean's father was adamant about his sons talking to strangers, he always told them that certain people- police officers, fire fighters and doctors- were okay to speak with because they almost always had good intentions and just wanted to help.

"Are your parents nearby?" the old guard asked and Dean nodded, pointing to the McDonald's.

"My Dad's getting us lunch," he explained and the guard nodded before asking, "Can you take me to him?"

Dean made his way quickly through the dining area, aware of the guard right behind him and felt a little better. The security guard would help them find Sammy.

John seemed to sense his son's presence and looked up as the boy and man approached. Thinking that Dean had gotten in some kind of trouble, the father scowled at his child.

"What did he do?" the eldest Winchester asked, his tone conveying annoyance.

"Nothing sir," the older man shook his head and quickly introduced himself as Earl Bunting, "Can step over here please?"

One eyebrow raised, John did as he was asked and stepped out of line, only then realizing that Dean didn't have Sam in tow.

"Where's Sam?" John asked his oldest boy.

"I don't know," Dean mumbled, "I can't find him."

John's heart skipped a beat and he turned his attention to the security guard. The older man, however, was looking at Dean.

"When was the last time you saw your brother?"

Dean was staring at the ground. He didn't want his father to see the tears already welling up in his eyes.

"I just want to the bathroom," Dean mumbled guiltily, "I was only gone for a few minutes. I went and then I came right back and Sammy wasn't there."

John couldn't even find it in himself to be angry with his son for leaving his brother alone. He knew how Dean always protected Sam and it was likely killing him that the younger boy was missing.

"Before anyone panics," Earl spoke up calmly, "I'll send out a public announcement with a description of your boy… in cases like this the child's just wandered away and will pop up soon."

John nodded. There was no need to start worrying. Yet.

They were in a crowded rest area, full of people looking after their own kids. It was likely that Sam would be spotted by a keen-eyed mother or a playful youngster and be back with them in no time at all.

The guard led the Winchesters away from the food court and through a door marked 'Employees Only'. Dean unconsciously reached out to touch his father's hand as they followed the security guard to his office. The room was small and smelt strongly of cigar smoke. The guard offered the single swivel chair to John and the father settled down onto it, pulling his oldest onto his lap, trying to comfort Dean.

"Can you give me a description of your son? What he looks like, what he was wearing?" Earl asked and John nodded.

"His name is Sam... he's seven but small for his age…" John began, finding it difficult to talk about his child in such a way, his mind going to visions of Missing Children pictures printed on milk cartons.

"He has dark brown hair," John continued quietly, "It's kind of long- ends just past his ears- and green eyes…"

The guard nodded, patient with the distraught father.

"He was wearing blue jeans and a blue and red Superman t-shirt," John said, "And his winter coat."

"Did he have mittens or a toque on?" the security guard asked and John shook his head.

"We left them in the car," he answered and Dean turned his hazel eyes up to his father.

"Sam had one of his green army guys in his pocket," the boy offered, if that could help them.

Earl nodded grimly. He felt his heart go out to the small family. It was always heartbreaking when a kid went missing, whether they were found or not, those moments when you thought you'd never see your child again were devastating. The old man knew from experience what it was like… he'd lost his son in Korea.

Clearing his throat, Earl looked pointedly at the Winchesters, "After I make the announcement but I'd like you to stay here. We'll have enough chaos out there with everyone looking for your boy without you getting into the fray."

John wanted to argue with the older man, he wanted to look for his son but he only nodded and stared down at the top of Dean's head.

The Winchesters listened numbly as the security guard spoke over the building's PA system, alerting all those inside to the missing boy and to take the child to the information desk immediately if he was found.

Dean looked up when Earl finished the announcement.

"Sam won't want to go with anyone," he protested, "He knows not to talk to strangers or go with them."

"I'm sure he'll know that it's safe to go to the information desk," the security guard said gently.

Dean shook his head, "No, he'll be scared if anyone comes near him… I should be there. He'll come to me… maybe I could talk to him over the PA system."

John reached out and gripped his son's shoulder, "We have to let Earl do his job."

Dean all but glared at his job, "But I want to do my job! I want to go out and find Sam myself!"

John's face contorted in anger for a split second before changing to sadness.

"Let's all go to the information desk," Earl suggested, "That way, Sam will see you right away."

Dean liked that idea. He jumped down from his father's lap and left the office before either man had moved.

John looked apologetically at the guard but Earl just shrugged it off. They followed Dean as he stalked right to the faux wooden desk at the far end of the building and watched silently as the boy clambered up to sit on it. The teenage girl at the desk gave the eleven-year old a pitying look but didn't say anything.

John leaned against the desk, eyes scanning the dining area with hawk-like intensity. Earl listened to the chatter on his two-way radio absentmindedly as he squinted at every young boy that passed close by.

SPN

Tears of fear ran down Sam's face as he stared at the man sitting across from him on the bench seat. He was lying uncomfortably on his stomach, facing the stranger, his hands behind his back and held together with a plastic cable tie locked tightly around his small wrists, his feet touching the door with his ankles immobilized with a second tie. Sam struggled to breathe through his nose; a piece of duct tape covered his mouth.

Ronald, still wearing most of his makeup, looked down at Sam when the boy let out a whimper.

"Shhh," the man cooed and reached down to stoke Sam's hair, "Don't be afraid. I'll take care of you."

Sam closed his eyes. Dean would run his fingers through his hair to comfort him but when this man- this clown- did the same thing, it just felt wrong. He didn't know where this stranger was taking him but wherever it was; Sam didn't want to go there.

Maybe he's really Pennywise; Sam thought frantically and began to struggle.

Ronald grabbed the back of the boy's shirt to prevent him from falling off the seat. Sam let out a low whine and the man shushed him again.

"We're almost home," the clown said with a smile that made Sam's skin crawl.

SPN

As the long minutes ticked by Dean grew more and more anxious, more and more scared. He felt terrible. He shouldn't have left his brother alone. What had he been thinking?

Dean wished that Sam would just run up to them, laughing and ask where his Happy Meal was.

"Do you want the other Twinkie?" the girl behind the desk asked and held out the snack cake still in its packaging.

Dean hesitated and looked to his father. John was speaking quietly to Earl Bunting and Dean didn't want to bother them.

"Okay," he answered and took the offered treat.

Dean ate the Twinkie without really tasting it. The girl behind the desk watched him.

"What?" the boy demanded defensively.

"You'll get your brother back," the girl said softly. Dean handed her the empty plastic wrapper and she slipped it back into her lunch bag.

SPN

Sam grimaced as the man tore the duct tape away from his mouth.

Upon arriving at Ronald's house, the clown had picked the small boy up, holding him under his arm and carried him inside. The man took Sam down a long hallway and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor of a room that had a bed as its only piece of furniture. Sam laid his cheek against the brown carpet and cried when the stranger left him alone, closing the door behind him. Sam's eyes darted around the room, staring at the yellowed walls, the window with stained, lacy curtains and the bed. No matter where Sam looked, his gaze was always drawn back to that bed. It didn't have any sheets on it, only the box spring and mattress.

Sam trembled with terror. He wanted his Daddy. He wanted Dean. He wanted to leave this place. He wanted Ronald to go away.

Now that Sam could talk, he wailed. The man had entered the room with a pair of scissors and had cut the ties around the boy's ankles and wrists, pulling the child into his lap before taking the tape away from his mouth.

Sam tried to get away from the man but Ronald kept one arm wrapped around his middle, preventing him from moving.

"I want my Daddy! Go away! I want Dean! I want to go home!" Sam cried. He was bawling like a baby but he didn't care; his teachers at school had told their students to scream and cry as loud as possible if someone who wasn't your Mommy or Daddy took you away.

Ronald put his free hand on Sam's head and hissed in the boy's ear, "This is your home now, Billy."

Sam continued to struggle, "I don't want to live with you! I want my Daddy! I want Dean!"

Moving his hand from the boy's hair, Ronald pinched the child's neck hard and Sam let out a cry of pain.

"Are you going to be a good boy?" the stranger asked and Sam nodded frantically. He didn't want to get hurt again.

"You must be warm in that coat," Ronald said in an overly friendly voice.

"I'm okay," Sam answered quietly but the man ignored him.

With his free hand, Ronald unzipped Sam's coat and the boy squirmed uncomfortably.

"Please don't… I want my coat," Sam whimpered but again the man acted as though he hadn't heard.

Ronald pulled Sam's right hand from the jacket and then the left, dumping the article of clothing off to the side once the boy was free of it. He smiled at the child's blue t-shirt and placed a hand on Sam's back- he could feel the boy's heart beat through his fingers.

Sam gulped, trying to stop crying and whimpered when the man put his hands under his arms, standing him up and turning him around.

The youngest Winchester stared at the clown with large, wet eyes and the man smiled at him.

"Can I put my coat back on? Please?" Sam asked plaintively.

Ronald shook his head, "No, you don't need it."

Sam lowered his head, sniffing as more tears spilled from his eyes. He wished Dean was here- his brother would probably call him a baby for crying so much but he didn't care- because he always made everything better.

"Take off your pants," the man demanded and Sam's head snapped up.

"I don't want to!" he cried and turned to run away from the stranger. Ronald was faster than the seven-year old and grabbed the collar of the boy's shirt; Sam kicked and fought as the man pushed him onto the floor and started tugging his jeans down.

Ronald threw the small pair of pants behind him and released Sam, frowning at the disobedient child.

Sam tried to pull his t-shirt down far enough to cover his underwear but it wasn't long enough.

"I thought you said you were going to be a good boy?" the man asked and tsked sadly.

"Why can't I have my pants?" Sam squeaked out.

"You won't need them," Ronald explained casually, "Now, are you going to be a good boy and do what I tell you?"

Sam hesitated. He didn't know what the man wanted but he also didn't want to get hurt. Ronald got angry really fast and Sam was scared of him.

The seven-year old nodded. He flinched when the strange man reached out and put a hand on his cheek.

"You don't need your boots or socks either," Ronald prompted, "So what do you do?"

"Take them off?" Sam asked and the man smiled at him.

Sam sat down on the carpet and pulled his winter boots off, followed by his socks. Maybe if he did what Ronald told him to, he'd be okay.

He watched silently as the clown gathered up his clothes and left the room, locking the door behind him.

Author's Note:

1. Thanks to cold kagome, L.A.H.H, mb64, AmaraRae, sarah, mandancie, micksmouse, missingmikey, LeighAnnWallace, Tiny wabbit, TeamCastiel1997, twomoms, BranchSuper, Priya723, it'ssamnotsammy, Sparkiebunny, SamDeanLover28, DianaLadris802, CapitalC12, Samstruck, embalia, SPN Mum, Jeanny and Guest for reviewing.

2. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favourited or followed.

3. Please leave a comment. They're the only thing keeping the clowns away…