Again, for bhoney.

Again, thanks for the wonderful comments. You guys are awesome.

Again, thank you Alaina for the awesome beta.

And a special thanks to Trasan and all her llamas.

And her two email accounts :P

I hope you guys enoy!

Snap

Chapter 4

"What are you doing?"

Dean had moved to a darker corner of the pit and had his back turned to the girl. He tensed, his fingers over his zipper. "What does it look like? Unless there's a hidden john around here, I'm taking care of business."

"Wait!"

"What?" he barked. Didn't this girl realize that when a guy needed to go, he needed to go? No waiting involved.

"You can't go in here!" Beth moved across the space and smacked him lightly on the back.

"What the-" he turned around angrily. "Did you just hit me?"

"Yes," she met his hard glare. "And you have to wait."

"Oh for Pete's sake," he huffed but made no further move to expose himself. This chick was beginning to creep him out. "Wait for what? The mobile potty service?"

Beth smirked, freaking well actually smirked. "Actually something like that."

Dean continued to glare at her waiting for an explanation.

"Oh all right," she gave in. "Twice a day they open a little slot in the door and lower down a bucket."

"A bucket?" Dean turned back to his corner again. She grabbed his arm stopping him.

"Yes, a bucket. Aren't you wondering why it doesn't stink in here? Not like even I can hold it that long. I've been here…" her voice tapered off and an unreadable look crossed her face. Dean knew she had absolutely no idea how long she'd been missing.

"A week," he supplied feeling bad when he saw a look of horror cross her face.

"A week? Only a week. Oh God, it feels like a lot longer."

Dean looked around the dark room, an oubliette if he remembered right from a million years ago in high school, and felt bad for her. A place like this was where you put people to forget about them, and while in one, it was easy to lose track of time unless you had a watch. And even then falling asleep would be disorienting.

To her credit, Beth quickly regained her composure. "Yeah, anyways, I've been here a week and the place doesn't reek of piss does it?"

"Well it doesn't smell good either," Dean refused to admit he hadn't even noticed that small, but now, rather important detail.

Beth shot him a dark look and then pointed up at the trap door. "Like I said, twice a day a bucket gets lowered down, along with a roll of toilet paper. Then it's taken away. They do the same thing with food and water."

Dean chewed his lip in consideration. Interesting. So whatever grabbed them had a sense of humanity, taking care of their basic needs. The more he thought out it, the more unsettled he became. This couldn't be good. Not good at all.

And then a twinge in his gut had him asking, "Any idea when the next bucket's due?"

------

"I gotta pee," Gracie's whine sent a twinge through his gut. She had one of those high pitched annoying voices that reminded him too much of the types of girls his brother enjoyed for a one night stand.

"Not too bright", Dean would gloat, "but not too stupid either, Sammy." He'd elbow the younger man and wink, "if you get what I'm saying."

She giggled a lot and loved to keep touching Sam, and when he'd look at her, she'd bat her eyelashes up at him. The girl seemed especially partial to hanging on to his arm and chatting, not seeming to understand the seriousness of the situation. And somewhere about thirty minutes ago, she'd started carrying the freakin' cat.

But this was the last straw!

How in the world was he going to find his brother if she and the rest of his merry band of men, and a cat, whined, giggled –

George sneezed.

- and sneezed their way through the bush?

They had no chance of finding his brother like this.

"Okay, that's it." He stopped and turned to face the group. He was starting to feel like an ancient prophet leading his people through the wilderness. Only his people were a bunch of village idiots. "You guys can't come any further with me. I've left a very clear trail, so follow it back to your cars and Arnold can give you a lift into town. This is ridiculous. I can't keep looking for Dean-"

"Who's Dean?" Sid asked, his creepy eyes fixed on Sam.

Sam just stared back at him. Was this guy real?

"Dean's his brother," Arnold, ever so helpful, helped.

"Yeah, the one we're looking for," Gracie was just as helpful. She went one further and slapped Sid on his arm. "Why'd you think he's going around yelling DEAN! DEAN!"

Sid shrugged and looked at George.

George shrugged back.

"Thought maybe it was code," Sid decided. "You know like some secret word meaning 'Where are you?' or something. Didn't realize the dude's name was Dean. That's kinda lame."

"I had a dog named Dean once," George spoke up.

Sam's jaw actually dropped open and then it snapped shut before he retorted. "You know when we find DEAN, I'm going to tell him you said that."

Arnold piped up. "Ooh that won't be good. Dean is a big guy. Not as big Sam here but big." He looked sympathetically at Sid and George. "With lots of muscles. And he doesn't like cats."

Gus gave a little meow from the safety of Gracie's arms.

"Regardless," Sam reached up and pinched his nose with his fingers and shut his eyes for a moment. He could feel a migraine in his near future if he didn't get rid of these guys. And his body still ached from the tumble down the hill and all he really wanted to do was find Dean, and possibly Beth, and get the hell out of the woods. He opened his eyes. "You can't go any further with me-" then he paused and looked around. "Where is Gracie?"

Sure enough, the blond was gone. And so was the cat.

------

"Do you like blonds?" Beth's question caught Dean off guard. He'd spent the last thirty minutes staring up at the hatch trying to figure out a way to use the information she'd given him about the bucket and feeding schedule. And not just because he was really beginning to need that bucket.

"Huh?"

"Blonds." Beth was crouched with her back against the far wall watching him. She twisted a long dark strand of hair around her fingers. Her hair color reminded him of Sam's. "I was thinking of dying my hair blond."

"Right now?" Dean asked, preoccupied, as he went back to staring upwards.

"No," the girl huffed out. "When we get out of here." Her voice lowered. "If we get out of here, that is."

Okay that got his full attention.

Striding across the short distance between them, Dean crouched down in front of her. "Hey," he said, his voice gruff, "don't talk like that. Of course we're getting out of here."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked, watching him with dark eyes. "You were looking for me and they got you too, whatever 'they' are, so I have to admit it isn't looking too good on the being rescued front."

Dean sighed. Getting caught was not one of his finer moments even if he had no idea yet what had taken him down so quickly and quietly. And what was with that creepy voice knowing his name? Forcing his focus back on the despairing girl in front of him, he offered her a cocky smile. "'Cause I got a secret weapon."

"A secret weapon?" She didn't sound convinced.

"Hell yeah. Six foot four of floppy brown hair and bad attitude… Sam. Okay, actually that's me with the bad attitude," he chuckled and then sobered when she didn't share his humor. "But seriously. My brother? Sam? He's out there and he's going to find us. Do you hear me? He will."

"But how can you be so sure?" she asked, her eyes desperate. "We're in a hole in the ground, Dean. A hole." He knew she wanted to believe but he needed to give her something more tangible to grasp on to. So he did.

"Because, Sam? He doesn't know how to fail. He will find us, Beth. I promise you that."

------

"I fail to see how a girl can just disappear," Arnold was clearly distraught. "She was here one moment and gone the next. Poof! And with my Gus!"

Kinda like Dean, Sam thought, but without the blood.

Sam heard George and Sid shouting for Gracie as they searched the immediate area. At first he'd thought she'd just nipped off for a pee but when she didn't come back after a seemingly reasonable amount of time, they realized she'd disappeared too.

Something about this niggled at the back of his mind but Sam wasn't able to put his finger on it yet.

"She could just be lost," Arnold surmised as he took off his glasses and cleaned them with the tail of his shirt. "Poor girl didn't seem to be the brightest bulb in the pack. Probably got herself confused while pulling up her panties."

Grimacing at both the visual and the idea that Arnold was a pervert, Sam shook his head. "Stay here," he instructed the older man. "GEORGE! SID! Get back here!" Enough was enough. Amateur night was over. When the two younger men came crashing through the vegetation in front of him, red-faced and out of breath, he pointed towards where Arnold was standing. "Stay here with him. I'll be right back." The birdwatcher opened his mouth to argue but Sam was at the end of his rope. "I am being serious. Stay here and don't move… an inch."

"And what exactly are you going to do?" George demanded as creepy Sid shifted to stand between his buddy and Arnold.

Sam smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile and all three men paled. They finally seemed to get that maybe this big guy might be dangerous. "Me?" he smirked as he set his frame and lifted his head. "I'm going hunting…"

Ten minutes later he was staring ahead in disbelief at a small clearing protected by a thick grove of overgrown trees. An old run down and seemingly abandoned mansion rose out of the forest floor.

The decrepit building had large, once white pillars, and a row of second floor balconies, most with missing railings. Large story high windows seemed to stare at him from behind their darkened panes of broken glass as English ivy crept along the stonework and weeds chewed their way up the front steps and across the ample porch.

The house would have been impressive in its heyday. Heck it was impressive now… just not in a good way.

"Stephen King would love this place," he murmured quietly.

The feeling of something ominous pressed down on Sam and the next breath caught in his throat. Something was very wrong here. Out of place. The clearing was quiet… too quiet. There was absolutely no sound from around the house or the area at all. Nothing stirred. Not even an insect buzzed or a bird tweeted.

His gut told him Dean was here. He knew it.

Possibly even Gracie and Beth –

But if Sam had any doubts about there being something unnatural in these woods it was taken away when the house made a large groan and started to whisper his name.

Sam…

Sammy…

Sammy Winchester…

And then the heavens opened and it started to rain.

------

And then the hatch opened but instead of the bucket that Dean so desperately needed being dropped on him. It was a girl.

A blond. In a mini skirt and high heels.

The hatch snapped shut before he could do more than catch the falling woman.

"Oh shit," he grunted as he went down under her dead weight and then the back of his head struck the ground hard and he was out for the count.

Again.

TBC