Dean felt his heart racing in his chest and he took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. He was having a really hard time with it, though. The conversation with Bobby earlier kept playing over and over in his head.

One hour earlier:

"What the hell is going on, Bobby?! There's a pattern developing here that I really don't like! With crazy human hunters and old Yellow Eyes, Sam's been disappearing a few too many times." The pieces of the broken flashlight crunched under Dean's heavy boots as he paced by the side of the road. The head lights from the Impala cast an errie glow through the thickening fog.

"What in the hell were you boys after out there?" Bobby asked worriedly as he adjusted the baseball cap on his head. He really didn't like the sound of this any more than Dean did. Something was wrong. It wasn't normal – even in their very abnormal lives.

"It was supposed to be just another gyn!" Dean practically shouted. "You ever heard of a gyn that doesn't leave footprints and can fly?"

Bobby frowned and as if Dean could see him, shook his head. "No," he said quietly. "You know as well as I do that gyn have a human form. Look, just stay where you are. I'll come there."

-------------

Dean shined his flashlight around the open space, looking for a sign that a gyn – or anything else for that matter – had been in the empty warehouse. Obviously something had been around somewhere, or Sam wouldn't be missing at the moment. So far, though, there was nothing. Bobby would be there in less than ten hours, but as they both knew all too well, a lot could happen in ten hours.

----------

Sam awoke with a jolt and sat straight up. His eyes were open, but he couldn't tell it. The room was more than pitch black. Even his hand touching his nose was swallowed up by the darkness enveloping him. He knew he was sitting on solid ground; he could feel the cold concrete beneath him. But what else was in the room? All he really knew for sure was that the room was totally enclosed.

Moving slowly and on all fours at first, Sam began to move. He felt each inch of the floor as he moved. Finally, a solid wall met his touch before him. Still moving slowly with his hands on the wall, he stood. Pain shot through his back as he straightened, but he chalked it up to laying on a concrete floor for who knew how long.

The wall as far as he could tell was bare sheetrock and was cool to the touch. Even standing and stretching as far as he could reach, his hands found no ceiling. Still, he knew there was one.

"Hello?" he said aloud, listening to hear how much of his voice disappeared. The room wasn't very big from the sound of it, but was big enough.

Sam began once again to use the power of touch to navigate. He felt nothing on the wall. No light switch. No electrical outlet. Not even a grove where the pieces of the sheetrock were joined together.

Sam continued his blind search of the room. He finally determined that the room was rectangular, close enough to about ten feet by twelve feet. There was what felt like a door, but there was no window in it, no handle, and when Sam banged on it, he could tell it was completely solid. There were still no light switches, no electrical outlets, no anything. The room had obviously been built exactly for what it was being used for – a prison.

The only thing Sam did find in the room was a thin, very worn mattress. By the smell of it, Sam was grateful that whoever had put him in this room had laid him on the concrete.

He knew it was pointless, but Sam felt in his pockets for his cell phone. Sure enough. Gone. He felt his way over to the corner opposite the door and sat down. He felt better having his back resting against the juncture of two solid walls. At least that way, he'd have a better chance of knowing it if something were coming after him. Of course, right now he couldn't see anything anyway, so it was really more a personal feeling than a practical thought.

Sam let out heavy breath as he leaned back against the wall. He kept opening and closing his eyes, hoping from each moment to the next that something would change. Nothing did. As he sat back, blinking into the darkness, Sam found himself doing something he hadn't done in quite awhile. He prayed.