A/N: Okay, okay- it's been too long, I know. I've been busy with school, you know, with Pre-Christmas break tests/exams and all. This chapter was supposed to be a lot longer, but I had this segment done, so I figured I'd go ahead and post it. I'm already 3 pages into chapter 2, so it won't be long until it comes out.
Aaand, side note, it took me 15 minutes to write this Author's note because I'm trying to watch old Supernatural episodes at the same time (*cough* S2E10 'Hunted' *cough*)
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Kripke has the honor.
Mild language, per usual. However, this time there is a bit more profanity, so be aware.
"Not even 15 minutes later,
I'm still walkin' down the street
When I saw the shadow of a man creep out of sight
He swept up from behind, put a gun up to my head
He made it clear he wasn't lookin' for a fight."
"Ain't No Rest For The Wicked" ~Cage The Elephant
Clearfield, Pennsylvania
1 hour earlier
Clouds hung heavy in the darkening sky, hinting at rain that simply wouldn't come. And for the many pedestrians lining the sidewalks, that wasn't unwelcome.
The setting itself was dismal, with cloudy skies and misty fog gathering at the street's base.
The youngest Winchester weaved through thinning crowds, the traffic playing on his already frayed patience.
Because the sheer thought that maybe if he hadn't gone and fucked up their last hunt, he wouldn't be the one trudging through downtown Clearfield buying food he doubted his stomach could tolerate.
And to top it all off- a drizzle. A damn drizzle. It was Sam's goddamn lucky day.
But things could be worse, right? With his luck, definitely.
So the sound of heeled boots coming to a stop behind him as he paused at a crosswalk probably shouldn't have been a surprise, but then again..
And something has to go and get stuck to my shoe. Sam thought ruefully, deciding that a right turn looked quite appealing at the moment, so long as it didn't mean waiting for a light to change with someone -or something- on his tail.
Quickening his pace only just -primarily so his secret admirer didn't catch on- he headed down the road.
Surprisingly, the before dense buildings seemed to taper off. Much to Sam's slightly panicked dismay, the street ended in a simple, isolated alleyway.
With a chain link fence lining on end, and his ever-present follower behind him, Sam concluded that he was completely and utterly fucked.
Albeit tentatively, he turned to face the figure behind him.
A small young women stood at the other end of the alley, deep brown hair streaked through with pale blond, clad in ripped jeans and a black t-shirt, a long silver locket hanging from her neck.
"Hey, Sammy," She sneered, rows of long, glittering white incisors protruding from her upper gum.
Red flags went up in all directions. Sam's didn't regularly carry either dead man's blood or a machete on his person, so his best bet was to tuck tail and run.
Even with the vamp's small, 5 foot 4 frame, she was undoubtedly strong. Stronger than Sam was currently fit to handle.
"Hey, Sammy," She called, voice sickly sweet, "Not such a big, bad, Hunter like you say, huh?" Sam took a step backwards, assessing the situation. Maybe she didn't want to kill him, like the ones in Montana- scratch that, anything with teeth that long wasn't vegetarian.
She gave a smug smile, taking a step forward, urging Sam back another step.
Such a process repeated itself for a few moments- almost as if she were attempting to back Sam against the chain link fence along the back of the alley.
Much to Sam's surprise, rather than the semi-pliable wire fence -which he figured he could jump if given enough leeway- his back met something solid.
He let out a muted yelp as a hand came up to cover his mouth & nose, another coming around to pull his arms behind his back in a crushing hold.
Sam was gripped with panic as he a rag being held tightly to his face. A slightly medicinal, cloying, smell emanating from the worn fabric. Chloroform.
He bucked violently in the hold- gaining little to no freedom of movement before his limbs became heavy.
Darkness pried at the edges of his vision, body going entirely limp.
He felt himself lifted, unnaturally strong arms under his back & knees -the chemical-coated rag tied around his face, as if to ensure full inebriation. Muffled voices filtered sluggishly into his drugged mind as the last of his consciousness slipped out of his grasp.
"Nice catch, Bex."
"Think he'll stay out long enough?"
"He should; I damn near soaked that rag in chloroform." He felt himself being tossed carelessly into the back of a car- a van, maybe- slamming harshly into the back wall. He gave a small moan around the cloth around his mouth, hearing a soft chuckle in response before a door slammed, locking him in the back of the vehicle.
As he let the last of his awareness fade out, he vaguely registered the car moving, driving away. Given a chance, he would have jumped out of the Godforsaken thing then, but pitch dark shadow sealed off any hint of sensibility.
