DISCLAIMER: You know, I really wish I could just own Supernatural already, 'cause I'm fast running out of creative/hopefully-humorous ways to say that I don't! Kripke, a little help here…? Please?

SPOILERS: Anything from the Pilot through Hollywood Babylon may get a little shout-out throughout!

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My Strongest Weakness

PREVIOUSLY: When Dean reached the diner with still forty-five minutes to spare, Dusty stood up from the booth with two bags of to-go food in his hands. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Dusty held up one of those hands and smiled. "No thanks necessary, Dean. For any of it." He returned Dean's emotion-filled nod. "Good. Now let's go get that spear and save your brother."

Chapter 20

Almost there, almost there… Sam repeated the mantra over and over in his head as he continued to chew at the duct tape on his right wrist. It was beginning to break, and that was definitely worth the God-awful taste that Sam had in his mouth. He had been waiting for dawn to start this particular escape plan. Numerous tooth marks on his restraints would've certainly been noticeable to Odessa and her clan, but now, they were finally asleep and couldn't see what he was doing. He knew he would be in deep trouble if he wasn't out before the sunset, but what he figured would be a sound beating – most likely courtesy of Dracon – was still worth the attempt.

Almost there, almost there… His heart skipped a beat when he heard and felt a particularly loud rip.

Sam lifted his head to give his neck a brief stretch, then dove right back in and pulled with all his might. He let out a low cry of joy when he felt the pressure on his wrist ease as the tape finally broke all the way across. He wrenched his arm off the arm of the chair, rotated it a couple of times to get the feeling back in his stiff joints and muscles, then used it to rip the duct tape off of his left wrist. Repeating the motion with that arm, he finally set to work on his ankles and exhaled with unabashed relief as he felt the last piece of tape give way. Sam was free.

"No," he quietly corrected himself with the empty room as his audience, "not free yet…gotta get out of here and away from them…gotta get back to Dean."

He shakily got to his feet, his legs and body stiff and numb from being in the same position for so long, having to grab onto the back of the chair to keep himself from tipping over a couple of times. He stretched, bended and exercised his joints, then allowed some time for the now healthily flowing blood to bring feeling back to his extremities as he fixed his shirt back and wiped his sticky face with an old rag he had snatched. Finally feeling confident enough to make his escape, he used the wall for support as he walked slowly toward the stairs. Now these are gonna be fun…

Sam steeled himself and took the first step without incident; it seemed everything in his body was working properly now, and he had a handrail to hang onto should things start to go downhill – literally. He continued to the second step, then the third, fourth, only six more to go… Shit! He cringed and stilled as the fifth step creaked loudly and sent up a quick prayer to God that it had gone unnoticed by his captors. Cautiously, he put more weight on that foot to bring his other one up to the sixth step, quickly removing himself from the fifth step as soon as he had his bearings. Onto the seventh, eighth, ninth, one more… Sam silently cheered in relief when both of his feet met with the landing. He scrutinized the hallway in front of him. It was empty, but there was no exit.

He took a deep breath and began to pad as quietly as he could down the hardwood-floored corridor, grateful for the first time that he was barefoot instead of wearing heavy shoes. As he crept, Sam noticed that his prison seemed to be a normal house, though a relatively large one. He imagined that it had been quite an impressive and attractive house in its day, but it had since fallen into disrepair. The walls were a medium shade of spring green in color, but that paint was flaking off just as the burgundy paint in the basement was, though maybe not as much. Nails stuck out of the walls where pictures had once hung, the only adornment left being a cracked rectangular mirror that gave Sam the creeps as he remembered when he and Dean had taken on Bloody Mary. The minimal furniture in the hallway was old and worn, the wood floor was also scuffed, nicked, and had lost its sheen long ago. Sam continued down the long hallway carefully, peering into each of the rooms hoping to see an easy exit. Finally, he saw the door. But it was anything but an easy exit.

He stepped warily into the already occupied room, feet treading lightly on the thin cream-colored carpet. Dracon and Odessa lay asleep on the same-colored furniture – him in a recliner, her on the sofa that sat between a large curtained window and the door. The path to the door was not a straight one; in fact, Sam would have to cross the entire room diagonally to get to it. He kept the door in his mind, standing out in stark relief against the dark, plum-colored walls as he inched toward it, but kept his eyes on where he was stepping and the objects he had to navigate around to reach his goal. Standing directly in front of the door, he also stood mere feet away from Odessa. He turned his gaze from her to the doorknob and slowly began to turn it. It made no noise, but that wasn't what he was worried about. He most feared the potential squeak of the door and the rubbing sound the bottom of it would make against the carpet. The lock gave quietly, and Sam apprehensively began to pull the door open. As he feared, it squeaked. Loudly.

Sam instantly stilled and shut his eyes in another prayer as he heard Odessa shift on the couch and moan softly. She didn't wake. Sam thanked God for that and pulled the door another fraction, relieved that the worst of the creaking seemed to be over. But now the door was dragging on the carpet, and that was just as loud. He knew it didn't matter though; there was no turning back now…

Hoping for the best but prepared for the worst, Sam took the necessary risk and gradually eased the door open further and further until he was able to step out into the bright mid-afternoon sun. It warmed every inch of him, inside and out…especially when he remembered thinking that he'd never see the sun again. He turned the outer doorknob and slid the door closed behind him, then slowly released his grip. And the weight finally lifted off his shoulders. Oh God…oh thank God…

Sam Winchester was officially free. He quietly walked down the rickety wooden steps of the front porch, then broke out in a dead run to what he hoped was safety…to what he hoped was Dean.

TBC…

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A/N: Well now, how about that Sammy? That's our boy, heehee! So now we've got Sammy on the run and Dean on the hunt for the other spear…hopefully the suspense is mounting! Sorry this chapter is a little later in the day than usual, but as long as you still get it on the promised day, right? LOL. Not much else to say except giving those usual thanks to…everyone I usually thank! LOL. You know who you are... Hope ya'll enjoyed, let me know, and stay tuned for the next chapter :-D