AN: A big thanks to all that reviewed last chapter. It's really appreciated. Honestly, feedback is always the best, especially when I do a story like this. So thank you so much and please continue to tell me what you think.


Chapter Two: Game Rules.


The man did all but go into hysterics at John's expense. Slowly he paced the floor just a few inches from the bed Sam was on. Every once in a while he'd sneak a peek at the teen, but it was nothing more than to remind himself of how great of a grand prize he had on his hands. The worry in John's voice intertwined and smothered in anger is what caused the man to smile the most. Here's John Winchester: big time hunter, perpetually angry, most dangerous and most sneaky thing since 007, highly feared, a total legend in itself- but the man knew no matter how angry John got, no matter how much power he claimed to have, it was him that had the upper-hand here. He was the jury on whether Sammy-boy here lives or dies. And he knew that if John was anything like the wonderful father he'd love to be, he wouldn't risk his son's life.

"What?" came the hunter's hardened voice.

The man rolled his eyes. "A game, Johnny. I want to play a game."

John gripped the phone tighter, trying to keep hold of his emotions as they ran through his veins. He had to be smart. John couldn't let his fatherly worries overpower his hunting instincts. Dean took a step closer, completely clueless at the moment. His eyes were slightly enlarged as he watched his father swallow painfully and find his voice again. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

"You have my son. This is no game," he replies as calmly as possible at the moment. On the other end his heard the man chuckle again. He says something under his breath and there's some movement. John bit his tongue slightly, when his mind began to wonder about what has happening to Sam at that exact moment. He shook his head slightly, trying to keep it focused as he impatiently waited for the mystery man to reply.

On the other end there was nothing but small breathing for a about fifteen seconds. John, in his head, was already trying to figure out why this was happening. Was this because of him? God knows there's a line full of people who would like nothing better than to pull his strings like a puppet and watch him dance. Random hunter's names ran across his mind, but still, none of this seemed right.

"You still there?" John asked, voice firm. It's been quiet for too long and the silence was eating at him. John could feel Dean's stare burning a hole in the side of his face. They both seemed to breathe in unison, upbeat, slightly accelerated. John cleared his throat. "Hey!" he yelled into the receiver when there was no immediate answer.

"You do want him back, don't you?" came the voice out of no where. John could just hear the joy he was getting out of his. Laughter just in the undertone of his question. John could see him: smirking at their expense, planning God knows what for Sam...

Licking his lips, John shook his head. "Don't be stupid. Of course I want him back. I want him back alive and unharmed."

There was a dead silence on the phone for a matter of seconds. "Alive and unharmed?" the man asked. "Johnny, you're asking for too much."

"Listen to me you son of a bitch. I swear if you even touch one hair on his head, I'll personally skin you alive and I'll-"

"You're gonna have to find me first, hot stuff," the voice cut in. His voice was deep and menacing. The kind that you'd hear on the end of some cheap horror movie trying to scare the shit out of on-edge teenagers at a late-night showing. But this was no movie. This was all too real in fact.

Dean gripped John's shoulder and when they were facing each other, Dean's eyes screamed "tell me something, anything", but John was a little preoccupied to give hints right now. Dean would have to wait although it was clear that it was killing him not knowing what's going on. All he can tell is that someone had taken Sam. This can't possibly end well.

"...there are rules to be followed?" the voice asked in a slow tone. His patience was wearing thin with John.

John rolled his eyes. Of course there's rules. He didn't say anything, he simply waited for him to continue.

"No cops, but you knew that already didn't you? No calls for more than fifteen seconds. Wouldn't want you tracking my call, would I? No, that wouldn't be much fun. You get one clue every one to three days-"

"One to three?"John cut in. He didn't have time for this. He just didn't. "Listen, I don't know who you think you are but this is just about the farthest thing from a game, you sick fuck. If you're not gonna give me back Sam willingly, fine. But I'm coming for him-"

The man cut him off. "Put away your ego for a second Johnny and listen because I have no problem with slitting his throat right here if you keep mouthing off like this to me. This is my game. My rules. My schedule. And I'll do what I want. Understand?"

John chewed back his anger and his urge to slam the phone shut and go out guns blazing to find Sam, but no. He couldn't. This man, whoever he was, was clearly off mentally. And until John and Dean get a decent lead, Sam's stuck with him. And the last thing John wanted to do was put him on edge and take it out on Sam.

Reluctantly, John said softly, "Fine. We'll play."

A heavy laugh came from the other end. "Excellent, Johnny. Excellent. Your time starts now."

...then the line went dead. Nothing else was said. John pulled the phone away and looked at it as if it'd magically contain some kind of answer.

Dean cleared his throat. "Dad what happened? Where's Sam?"

~WTPDF, Ch.2~

"Aw what's'a'matter, Sammy? You're quiet."

Sam pressed his lips together. He could still feel the sting on either sides of his mouth from where the gag was pulled out recklessly. Thick, warm blood pooled just under his tongue. He spit it on what he was almost sure was just near the side of the bed, but he couldn't be sure. The man's voice swirled in his mind as he tried to make himself remember every bit about him. Getting to know him could only help.

The air was thick. Sam could feel the man staring at him, waiting for him to answer.

He didn't.

The man slammed the phone shut, anger written across his face for a minute. He looked around the room and found a sheet of paper. Quickly, he scribbled down John's number from Sam's phone and stuffed it in his jean pocket. After, he slammed the phone down on the ground watching it break into pieces. Sam flinched at the sudden sound. Instinctively, his head swung in the direction of the phone breaking. The man nodded to himself as he watched the little bits of the cell phone. He knew how easily John could track Sam's phone and he couldn't take that chance. The game wouldn't be half as fun if John already knew where they were at, would it?

"I didn't take that off your mouth for you to keep your mouth shut," the man spat. His voice was a little on the angry side. Sam didn't see why though. Most people liked to keep their hostages as quiet as possible. This guy, was the total opposite. But the last thing Sam wanted was a full conversation with his sicko.

Sam tugged at the handcuffs around his wrists. They were tight, but he might be able to get out of them in a matter of time. He slimmed his hand as much as he could and trying to make his thumb straight. He pulled again. The only thing he felt was the pressure increase around his wrist. He bit his bottom lip, trying to stay discrete as possible, while still using the right about of strength to work free.

"Stop that," Sam's captor stated flatly. "Or I'll be forced to hogtie you. I don't think you want that."

Sam's hands slowed to a stop.

There was nothing but silence for about a minute. Sam could feel his heart pick up speed. Not from being frightened, but anticipating what was happening or where he was. The blindfold was a killer. He'd much rather not be able to talk then see.

"You should untie me. Now."

The man laughed. Sam didn't.

"Just be happy you're alive Sammy-boy. You're simply collateral." The man's eyebrow raised. "Important collateral," he stressed. "But still just collateral nonetheless. You don't get to make demands."

Sam would've rolled his eyes if they weren't being held shut by the blindfold.

Slightly away from him, Sam heard the man rummaging though what sounded like a drawer or something. He heard his captor let out a satisfied laugh.

"You said you wanted to play a game with my dad," Sam began. His voice was soft and slow. This man was crazy, so staying calm was going to be key. "What kind of game?"

Without warning the man gripped Sam's arm. Sam pulled away but it didn't do much.

"You don't get to ask questions either," he growled just as he jammed the needle he held in his hand into Sam's forearm. The needle came so quick and with so much force it drew blood. Sam didn't cry out. He wouldn't allow himself to. Screamed internally? Yes. But nothing that the man could hear.

Sam wanted to punch him, but the handcuffs didn't allow that. He wanted to kick him, this the chains around his feet didn't let him. So he used what he could: his head. Sam headbutted the man as hard as he could without hurting himself too much in the process.

The man stumbled back, dropping the needle in the process. Sam took the chance. He pushed himself off the bed. No, he couldn't walk or run, but he could jump. So that's what he did. But he only got about half way until he got dizzy. Even with eyes shut, seeing nothing but pitch black, he could feel the earth turning in ways that it shouldn't. A second later, he couldn't hold himself up anymore. He just felt...weak. And soon, he couldn't stand anymore. A second later, he couldn't stay awake.

His body fell to the dirty ground of the room he was in. Sam's captor rubbed his head as he made his way to Sam on the ground. He leaned over and fixed his thick hands around Sam's shoulders and just under his thighs. He carried him back to the bed.

"That wasn't very smart of you was it, Sammy?"


So I hoped you enjoyed it and are interested in the chapters to come. Let me know what you think?