A/N: I am so sorry I took so long. Writing this chapter was like pulling teeth… Not my best work, but you guys deserve something after waiting so long. I'll post again this week!
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)
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Desperation : a state of despair, typically one which results in rash or extreme behavior
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Sam ran until his legs began to burn with exertion, then he kept running. His was vaguely aware of the bits of gravel and scattered twigs slicing at the soles of his feet. The world around him was nothing more than a blur of colors and muted sounds.
It wasn't until his legs felt akin to jello that Sam finally slowed, chest heaving with exertion.
His knees suddenly buckled, sending him crashing to ground. He winced as the sudden impact sent shocks of pain up his wrists and knees.
Sam swallowed heavily as the queasiness in his stomach began to make itself known. He didn't know how long he stayed on the ground before a vehicle came rolling along the empty two-lane.
The teenager looked up, heart still pounding, as ancient yellow Ford Festiva slowed to stop on the side of the road ten feet behind him. Sam got to his feet with a quiet grunt.
He squinted against the bright light reflecting off the windshield. A high-pitched squealing was heard as the door swung open on rusted hinges.
Sam instantly felt his blood run cold. He knew that sound. That sound played in his nightmares, waking and sleeping. Sam's feet were moving before his brain had a chance to catch up.
He stumbled backwards as two figures emerged from the car. His breath caught in his throat as two men slowly sauntered they way towards him.
"Well ain't this jussa stroke o' luck," drawled a voice that never failed to send sickening shivers up Sam's spine. Involuntary trembles began to rock through Sam.
'This isn't happening. This is not happening.'
Ruben McCarthy snorted mightily, mouth contorting across his face, before he hawked loudly and spat out a mouthful of mucus and tobacco juice.
"Hey, Stanley?" Ruben continued advancing, never taking his eyes off the boy.
"Wha's that, Ruben?" The other man answered, falling in to step just behind the older man.
"D'ya know what day it is?"
Sam's eyes were beginning to fill with horrified tears. 'This isn't happening.'
"September 28th," Stanley replied as a nasty smile began to spread over his face.
"And do ya know why September 28th is so special, Stanley?" A matching grin to Stanley's was quickly taking over Ruben's face.
"It's your birthday!"
Ruben threw his hands in the air. "It's ma birthday! And on ma birthday, I can have whatever I want." His chin lowered as his eyebrows pulled low over his eyes, the smile on his face becoming downright hungry.
Sam's brain switched to autopilot; he turned tail and bolted.
But he didn't get far.
Apparently, the two men had had the same idea. Before Sam was able to even take five steps, arms locked around his arms and chest, halting his escape.
"No!" Sam screamed, as Stanley began to haul him backwards. Sam's training kicked in as he was being manhandled towards the car. He tried every evasive maneuver he knew, but Stanley was stronger than he looked.
Sam couldn't break the man's hold on him, no matter which way he twisted or jerked his body.
"No, please! Please! Let me go!" Sam hated how quickly he resorted to begging. He was supposed to be better than this.
"Time ta go home, sonny!" Ruben cried maniacally, chortling to himself as he pulled a dirty rag from his pocket. " 'Member this, boy?"
Sam renewed his efforts to break free as the older man approached, rag held aloft.
"This time, we's goin' somewhere that ain't nobody ever gunna come lookin' for ya," Ruben said, blatantly ignoring the fear in Sam's eyes as he pressed the cloth over the teen's nose and mouth.
The anesthetic went to work quickly. Sam felt all fight leave his body as his arms and legs went limp. His head felt impossibly heavy as it lolled backward, falling onto Stanley's shoulder.
"No…" he mumbled weakly, struggling to keep his eyes open as he felt Stanley continue to drag him backwards.
It was just as Ruben swung the door open to the backseat that Sam heard it.
The most beautiful sound. It was the low, heady engine growl that Sam had dreamed about for two and half years. A sound that meant salvation. Safety.
A new vigor raced through Sam's veins, restoring his will to get away. He lifted one leaden foot and kicked backwards, inwardly grinning as he felt it connect with something solid. Stanley cried out in pain, but managed to keep his grip on the drugged teen.
"C'mon, you rugrat," he puffed angrily.
Sam dug his heels into he ground as the sound of his father's Impala grew nearer.
"Stan, git a move on," Ruben hustled, hastening around the hood and diving into the driver's seat. Sam knew he must've seen the Impala too.
Two cries of "Sam!" rang out down the road.
Sam wanted nothing more than to turn his head and see the sight of his dad and brother racing towards him, but at that moment Stanley managed to cram the lanky Winchester into the backseat. He slammed the door shut and jumped into the passenger seat.
"Go! Go! GO!" Stanley cried. The tires squealed their dissatisfaction as Ruben stomped on the gas pedal.
Sam's vision was swimming in and out as the vehicle lurched into motion. He knew he didn't have much time left until the drug completely put him under. Sam shakily pressed up from the bench seat, turning his head to look out the rear windshield.
The black Chevy was in hot pursuit.
With a groan, Sam heaved himself further upright.
"You gotta go faster, Rue!" Stanley yelped, glancing over his shoulder frantically at the Impala rapidly closing in on them.
Sam's back collided with the seat as Ruben encouraged more speed from the car. The engine roared as it began to eat up the asphalt, flying down the road at more than 100 miles per hour.
This was getting dangerous. Someone was going to get hurt.
And Sam would be damned if he let that be his family.
Using what little strength he had left, Sam heaved his upper body into the front seat. The two men yelped in surprise at Sam's sudden appearance.
Sam used the moment of brief discombobulation to latch onto the steering wheel and give it an almighty yank.
A horrible squealing sound broke out as Ruben slammed on the brakes, but the damage had already been done. Sam threw himself back into the backseat and down onto the floorboards as the car careened wildly.
The last thing he remembered was the sickening sound of metal on metal before his world went dark.
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