Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the feedback. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long for this chapter and I hope you enjoy it, too. Thank you so much for sticking with his story and for telling me how you feel as the story progresses. I love hearing your thoughts, so please continue to do so.

Also, for all of you who wanted longer chapters: I think this is the longest I've written so far. It has the most words, that is.

Warning: See any previous chapter.

Chapter 14:

"Dean, you've gotta leave," were the first words out of John's mouth. His eyes screamed urgency and the grip that he had on Dean's arm let him know that he was serious. John looked back quickly at the men, then stood up, blocking their view of Dean the best he could. Dean opened his mouth, ready to argue, but John didn't even allow him to begin. He tightened his hand around Dean's arm.

"You were there when they took Sam, right? So that means they saw you. I can't guarantee they'll remember you, but I'm not willing to take that chance. Do you understand me?" Dean didn't even begin to answer. He knew he shouldn't. It wasn't the first time he was getting a speech like this delivered to him and the rapidness in which his father was speaking was telling him that he didn't really have a choice when all of this is said and done. "Now go. To the bathroom, to the back of the diner, out through the back and into the parking lot, hell, go in the kitchen; but I don't want you to be seen." John scanned deep into Dean's eyes for a moment before adding , "Go, Dean," with a slight push.

Reluctantly, Dean took a few steps backward. His mind was racing fast, but everything else seemed to be moving in slow motion. He kept his face at an angle away from the see-through glass, metal lined double doors at the entrance and forced his eyes to stay down. He quickly made a decision to break for the kitchen. It'll be best there. Just in case one of the men roamed around for a minute and happened to see him in some other part of the diner. His initial thought was to go for the bathroom, but he had decided against it. What if one of them had to use it? Then Dean would be cornered, they'd have a scuffle, the whole plan would be ruined, and then Sam's life line would really be hanging in the balance.

John slid down two seats from where he and Dean were previously stationed. Dean flipped up the collar to his deep black jacket, having it cover just to the brim of his nose. He walked as calm and nonchalantly as he could as he stepped behind the counter and into the kitchen. The woman gave him a weird look, almost as if she was going to try and direct him in the other direction, but when John raised his eyebrows at her, she was quiet once again. Dean slipped though the doors and was suddenly out of sight.

Behind then, the door squeaked a little as it was opened, murmurs of the men flooded into the diner as they approached the bar.

Both of the men were tall. Taller than Sam, John, and Dean. But not too much of a challenge. From the corner of his eye, John was sizing them up, thinking of a smooth way to make into their conversation without being too obvious. It was then when it hit harder on him how much he wanted Sam back, just how much he loved him despite all of their arguments ; he was so careful about his actions now, knowing that one little slip up could cost his son his life. John had never felt this way before. Sure, he always had responsibility; he always took more blame than he should, but this was like the whole weight on his shoulders was getting harder and harder to hold.

One of the men had a bald head and tattoos on his arm. He slammed his hand down on the table and waited for the woman to approach them.

"Damien," she greeted to the other one. She gestured to the open tables all around. "Just pick somewhere. I'll be there in a second."

Both men just nodded and talked to the left of John. He could literally feel the hate and anger heat up his body, probably turning his face deep red. His fingers curled at his sides slowly as he pictured in his head all the ways he could kill them. John smirked.

He watched as the men took a seat, completely unaware that they were being watched. John cleared his throat, and stood. He didn't know how he was gonna do it, but he needed to think of something fast. John thinks better on his feet and under pressure, so he stood and headed to their table. He stood right in front of them.

"'Morning boys," he says , finally getting a clear look at the men who had his son.

Both of the men looked up, a confused look on their face.

"You need something, man?" the man with the bald head asked, exchanging looks with his partner across the table. John cracks his knuckles, turning to the man on his right and pointing with his index finger.

"You Damien?" he questions, keeping his voice calm.

The man shrugs.

"What's it to you?"

John shifted on his feet. Very slyly, he peeked out of the corner of his eyes, making sure Dean was staying out of right. Dean took orders well, but this was about Sam. Sam was in danger, so it wouldn't surprise him if Dean bolted out of the back room and over to the table, demanding information. But on the other hand, Dean wouldn't do anything to put Sam in more danger than he already was. He knew to stay in the back. He wouldn't risk Sam's life like that.

"I'm heard of you… from a friend," John answered. He and Damien held a stare for a number of seconds before Damien finally looked away. Clearly, he was more nervous than John was ; was worse at hiding it, too.

Damien cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head. "What friend?"

Pressing his lips together , John shook his head. "I know he's prefer if I didn't say. But he told me all about you. I know what you do…"

Again, the two men exchanged glances.

"He'd bought from us?" Damien asked, lifting his chin to John, trying to show a little more authority and self-encouragement in himself.

John nodded. "Once or twice, I assume."

"And you wanna buy?" Leo jumped in, his eyebrows raised. John's only response was a twitch of his nose.

Damien scooted over further towards the window, leaving an open space. He leaned with his head and outstretched his arm. "Take a seat," was the only thing he said.

John didn't hesitate. He couldn't. If he even gave off the vibe of being suspicious, a fake, or a non-buyer, everything would be ruined. It was intense, especially since John figured out exactly what type of people they were and what they did. When he first heard it, it made his stomach churn. Then the thought of his son being held in a place like that made his stomach churn and made his heart ache. The fury that he felt in that moment was something like he'd never felt before. His hands tightened, so did his feet. His face was hot as if he was running a high fever; he literally felt sick. Like he could throw up any second.

Bobby had called with this information a few days ago. John could tell that it was eating him up, too. His voice was quivering a little as he explained to John just what type of hell Sam was in.

"… they take random people, from what I can see. I guess anyone who they think will make them a lot of money. Then they sell' em-" Bobby's voice broke off. He had pulled the phone from his ear, cleared his throat, and wiped his eye.

At that time, John was frozen. "Sell them?" was his only response. He knew what it meant, but he didn't and to hear it.

"Sell them," Bobby repeated. "…well, their bodies," he corrected himself. "They sell them for sex, John."

As he sat there with them, Bobby's words rang in the back of his mind.

"They sell them. They sell them for sex, John…"

Leo cleared his throat as fingers snapped before John's eyes. He blinked hard.

"I said how'd you know we'd be here?"

John shrugged. "I didn't," he admitted. "I just got lucky, I guess."

Silence rushed over the table as the elderly lady approached the table. The smile on her face was a weary one, but it was there. She kept her hands in the front pockets of the apron she wore around her waist as she headed for their table. But before she even got within a ten foot radius Leo put his hand up.

"Would you mind giving us ten minutes, sweetheart?" he asked, quickly looking at Damien and John before putting on a face that said he insisted that she left immediately. The woman didn't answer. She simply spun on her heel, putting her back in the direction she came.

Damien tapped his hand on the table. "So when are you looking to buy?"

John shrugged again. "As soon as possible. Today?"

The salesmen exchange glances. It was almost unnoticeable, but John saw Leo shake his head 'no' ever-so-slightly.

"How 'bout tomorrow? You pick the time," Damien suggested.

As quickly as he could John figured it out. In a way he was happy that they couldn't do it tonight, despite the urgency and the yearning for wanting Sam back. Bobby's been driving since yesterday to come meet them.. He'd be here tomorrow anyway. But that didn't matter. Time didn't matter. John would barge in there by himself if it gave him a chance at getting Sam back. But doing it by himself would be challenging, but not impossible. Bobby and Dean would make things go a lot easier. But Bobby probably would be there until after seven at night.

"… well?" Leo pushed, waiting for a time stated by John.

"How 'bout 7:30?"

"Morning or evening?" Damien questioned.

"Evening."

Again a silence fell, but it was quickly picked back up again.

"So what's your name?" Leo asked, eyeing John skeptically.

John cleared his throat. "Mike," he says. "Mike Gregory."

Damien and Leo both nodded their greetings. Damien motioned to the man across the table. "That's Leo."

John only looked in his direction.

Leo leaned back, rubbing his mouth. "So… what're you into?"

John was silent.

Leo smirked. "Guys or girls," he clarified.

Almost instantly, John felt sick again. How was he supposed to hold a conversation about something was horrible as this. He cleared his throat, rubbing his eye. He couldn't think of it like that. He just couldn't. He was playing a role, doing what he had to do to get his son back.

"What're you looking to buy tomorrow? Maybe I could tell Nick to set 'em aside for you. Y'know, so you get exactly what you pay for."

John looked down at the table. "Male," he says.

Leo's eyebrows arched. "Older than twenty-five?"

Shaking his head, John answers, "Younger."

Damien chuckles. "You like 'em young." He pats John's shoulder. "Me, too."

In that moment, John felt he was going to snap. What if he'd hurt Sam? What if he touched Sam? What if-

Stop it! John demanded himself. He couldn't let himself think like that. Not now. He was so close to sealing the deal. John refused to let his emotions get the best of him now. Nothing's done, nothing's been won.

Damien retracted his hand and nodded. "I think I can have a little line up for you. How much you got?"

John was quiet for a second, trying to think of an amount that sounded plausible.

"1.5 thousand."

Damien and Leo yet again exchanged glances. "That's good. Really good. Nick's gonna like you."

"Who's Nick?" John asked, trying to get as much information he could.

"The boss," Damien said. "But all that isn't important. We'll see you tomorrow. Be here at seven. We'll escort you."

John nodded, standing up from the table. "I can't wait," was John emotionless reply as he walked away from the table. He walked in the direction of the counter where the woman was waiting patiently for the conversation to be over. John gestured to the kitchen door, instructing her to get Dean. Without looking back, John exited the diner with his heart racing.

He was getting Sam back tomorrow. His son was coming home no matter what happens.