See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.

Note: This chapter contains a little mature content.

It was an escalating tingling in his hands and feet that roused Dean Winchester from an unnatural slumber. He turned his head restlessly from side to side in an attempt to dislodge the fuzziness and cobwebs. Awareness returned like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle locking into place. He knew he was laying on something uncomfortable and unyielding. He also knew his hands and feet were asleep and the tingling was rapidly becoming painful. It wasn't until he tried to move, however, that he realized that he was tied down.

His eyes flew open as he pulled ineffectually at the restraints. With a hunter's keen observance, he studied his surroundings, squinting in the dusky light. He seemed to be in some sort of small cave, the walls of which were shiny wet in some places and mossy or moldy in others. An oddly foul odor hung heavy in the air, which was damp and oppressive. It clung to Dean's exposed skin like a cold wet blanket. He shivered at its clammy touch.

Feeling the way the chill raced over every inch of his body, Dean suddenly had an appalling suspicion and looked down. He sucked in a quick breath when his suspicion was confirmed.

He was stark naked.

Oh, crap, this can't be good.

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Sam unlocked the motel room door and slowly shuffled into the room. With a disconsolate sigh, he dropped Dean's shoes and socks on the floor, wondering why he'd carried them in from the car in the first place. Sam sank down on one of the beds and dropped his head in his hands. He'd spent the last four hours combing the woods around Pine Lake for any sign of Dean, all to no avail. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes and up his neck and his throat was raw—his voice hoarse— from shouting Dean's name repeatedly. His decision to come back to the motel room was spurred on solely by the desire to call Bobby to see if he might have an idea of what could be going on.

Before pulling out his cell phone to make the call, he made a quick trip to the bathroom. After taking care of business and washing his hands, he filled the small glass by the sink, and drank the water straight down, soothing his scratchy throat. He glanced in the mirror and was surprised to see his face had a pink tint of sunburn. He cupped his palms and filled his hands with water, generously splashing it over his overly warm face and neck. The achy throb receded slightly and he groaned.

He returned to the room and grabbed his phone. Sam paced from one end of the room to the other as he dialed Bobby's number. His stomach tightened when the Bobby's phone just rang and rang. After about ten rings, he was just about to hang up when the older man finally answered with a somewhat breathless growl.

"Yeah—who's this?"

"Bobby? It's Sam."

"Hey, Sam, what can I do for you?"

"Bobby, it's Dean. He's missing."

"What do you mean he's missing?"

Sam did his best to recall and relate what happened at the lake in a coherent manner.

"And you're sure he didn't just go off with these twins to have a good time, eh? I mean, Dean is quite the ladies' man."

"No, no. This was different. HE was different. It was like he was in a daze. And he had this glassy look in his eyes. Plus there were those weird scratches."

"Scratches?"

"On his stomach. I called them cuts. He said scratches. There were five or six of them."

"Like from an animal?"

"Um . . . no . . . I think . . . I think they were too crisscrossed for that. I dunno. He wouldn't tell me exactly how he got them. He just said he had a dream."

"That it?" muttered Bobby.

"Yeah—I was trying to get more out of him when those girls showed up."

"Anything else I need to know?"

Sam took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. "Yeah, you need to know about my dream too." He then told Bobby about his dream in as much detail as he could. When he was finished, silence greeted him at the other end.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah, kid, I'm still here. Listen, give me a half hour or so to do a little research and I'll call you back."

Sam ended the call and tossed his cell phone on the bed next to him. He needed to get back out there and search for Dean, but searching blindly had gotten him nowhere. Better to wait for Bobby's return call, hopefully imparting some useful information. In the meantime, Sam needed caffeine. Caffeine and sugar—energy to keep him going for as long as it took to get his brother back. Remembering the breakfast goodies, he decided to hit the bakery Dean had visited earlier in the day.

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A small bell over the door jangled when Sam entered the Sweet Tooth Bakery. He was dismayed to see a line of people milling around the counter selecting variety of delicacies but forced himself to stand off to the side and not-so-patiently wait as the customers paid for their wares and left. Finally, the shop emptied and he moved up to the counter.

"May I help you?" Mattie Sullivan smiled cheerfully at the tall man with a mop of unruly brown hair standing in front of her.

"Yes, ma'am. Can I get a couple of your largest cups of coffee, please? Both with cream and sugar."

As she moved away to fulfill his request, she asked, "Would you like anything else with that?"

"No, ma'am, I had some of your wonderful pastries this morn—" Sam's voice trailed off as inspiration struck. "Hey, do you remember waiting on a guy this morning—real early this morning—he's tall, though not quite as tall as me, he has short hair, and probably had on a leather jacket?"

Mattie Sullivan returned to the counter and set the coffee cups down in front of him. As she snapped the cup lids in place, she replied, "Oh, yes, I remember him. Are you perhaps the brother he spoke of? I see a bit of a resemblance."

"Uh huh. That was my brother, Dean."

"Such a nice young man."

"Have you by any chance seen him since then? Since early this morning?"

"Nooo. Why do you ask, hon?"

"He's . . . uh . . . missing."

"Missing?"

"We went fishing this morning at Pine Lake and kinda got separated. I haven't been able to find him."

"Pine Lake? Oh, dear—I hope he's okay. We've had some bad luck up at that lake."

"Bad luck?"

"Well, many years ago we had trouble with some crazed Satanists up there. It was absolutely dreadful. But we got that all cleaned up and it had become a nice, family-friendly place again. Then, in the last year or so, we've had a couple of gentlemen—travelers—disappear from up there. Unfortunately, chances are they simply drowned. It happens. But still, it's mysterious and tragic."

Sam nodded, a thoughtful expression settling on his face. "Thanks for letting me know." He took out his wallet to pay for his coffee. "I'm on my way back up there now."

Mattie placed her hand over Sam's. "No, dear, you keep your money. These are on me. You just go find that brother of yours."

Sam's phone rang just as he was settling into the driver's seat of the Impala. He hurriedly set his coffee down on the dashboard and flipped open his cell.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah, kid, it's me. Listen, this thing with Dean could be a lotta things. But if I had to guess, I'd say it's a succubus."

"A succubus?"

"Yeah, it says here it's a female demon that seduces men and steals their very breath and . . . uh . . . other things." Bobby paused.

"What?"

"She . . . um . . . she . . . damn . . . the demon . . . um . . . has sexual intercourse with her victims and steals their . . . um . . . well . . . you know."

"Oh." Sam felt his stomach tighten at the thought.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, most importantly though a succubus kills her victims by drinking their breath."

"I don't understand. Why would a man just lay there and let her do such . . . things?"

"By all accounts I just read succubi and incubi—the male form—are hypnotists and often strike while their victims are asleep. But, Sam, there's something you need to know."

"Yeah?"

"Incubi outnumber succubi roughly 9-to-1. But, the females make up for their lack of numbers by being much more depraved and vicious. And they often prefer to 'play' with their prey while they're awake."

A cold dread trickled down the back of Sam's neck.

"Listen, kid, you need to find that brother of yours and quick. My suggestion from what I've read--look for some sort of rocky ridge or cave. If you don't find him today, he won't survive through the night."

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TBC . . .