Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural" or any of its characters. I wish I did though.

This takes place some time during Season 2.

Thanks to my betas, Shannon and FraidyCat

Characters thoughts in italics.

Chapter 2

Sam tested his restraints. There was no give. He started rocking the chair back and forth. It swayed a couple of times before crashing to the floor. Sam stilled for a moment expecting to hear footsteps. Nothing. The ropes binding his legs had given way. His shoulder ached a little from the impact of hitting the floor. That's probably going to leave a mark. Now he had to undo his hands. The Swiss Army knife that Dean had given him for his birthday was no longer in his back pocket. His options for escape were limited.

The door creaked. Then Sam heard footsteps. Suddenly his feet left the floor as the chair was lifted. He struggled against his bonds not knowing what was coming. This person must have superhuman strength. I must have been taken by someone possessed by a demon or something else? The research in his mind was cut short as a rush of air swept past his face. His head slammed into the wall and he slid to the floor, landing in a crumbled heap.

"Are you sure you should have done that, Mitch?"

"Shut up, Stan. Don't use names. He might be listening. Besides he's still breathing; that's all that matters. Maybe that will make him think twice about trying to escape again."

The oak chair was still intact in spite of the impact. They checked Sam's bonds which were still snug. When the duo heard a van approaching, they exited the room leaving Sam, lying unconscious on the floor.

Stan and Mitch hurried through the decrepit farmhouse into the front parlor, where they peered through the black curtains of the pulley sash windows. They saw a petite Caucasian woman with brown hair and brown eyes heading towards the farmhouse. Stan met her at the door.

"How's our guest?" she asked with sarcasm.

Stan cleared his throat. "He's out cold. Mitch made sure of that."

The woman threw Mitch an icy stare as she quickened her pace and headed to the room she had personally prepared for Sam.

Mitch followed her, trying to plead his case. "He was trying to escape. I just wanted to teach him a lesson."

She cupped Sam's face in her small hands. "Wake up!" No response.

"You, idiot, when will you learn to keep your hands to yourself? Just watch him. How hard is that? I want him to still be alive when his brother arrives."

She stomped out bypassing Stan as she made her way to the front parlor. Good help is so hard to find.

John Winchester was the person who she really wished could pay for the death of her lover. He was the one who had taken Luther from her. Since he was no longer in the picture, his boys would inherit his debt. Killing the Winchesters would not bring Luther back, but at least she would feel like she had done something to avenge his death. Almost a year had passed since his death but it felt like just yesterday to her. They had spent almost every waking moment together. Sometimes she thought maybe she should have moved on with her life, but it felt so empty without Luther. Maybe that emptiness would vanish once the Winchesters were out of the way. At least she hoped it would.

Dean decided to meet Bobby at an all-night diner. The blinking "Open 24 Hours" sign cast a lime green shadow on the yellow table. The aroma of cheeseburgers and apple pie filled the air. He kept staring at the clock and then into his coffee cup. He had ordered the strongest coffee they could whip up. He had to remain sharp. His eyebrows furrowed as he pondered tonight's events. Whoever was behind this was able to tail us without being noticed. Maybe I should have insisted that Sam come in the store with me. He smiled imagining Sam's reaction to that request. It had always been his job to protect Sam, and he had failed him.

Dean was jarred from his thoughts by the arrival of Bobby's black pickup truck. Bobby entered the diner and plopped down in Dean's ivory booth.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Dean. Any leads on where Sam was taken?"

Dean's greenish hazel eyes made contact with Bobby's. "I was able to trace Sam's cell to a farmhouse on the outskirts of town."

Bobby adjusted his white and green cap. "How did you and Sam get separated?"

"We stopped at a convenience store. Sam was sleeping in the car. I was delayed in the store and when I came out, Sam was gone. Later, I got a call on my cell. It was a woman saying that she had Sam."

"Did you recognize her voice?" Bobby asked.

Dean reflected back to the call, analyzing the woman's voice in his mind. "No, Bobby. I wish I did."

"This definitely has the makings of a trap. Well, I guess we need a plan," Bobby replied.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, but it's hard to come up with a plan when we don't even know who or what we're dealing with."

Dean heard a familiar ringtone. He reached into his brown leather jacket,glanced at his cell and jammed the phone to his ear. "What now?"

Bobby looked at Dean. His irritated tone was a strong hint that the mystery woman was on the other end.

"By now you have probably traced Sam's cell."

"Yeah, I did. Enough of the mystery. Who the hell are you, lady?"

Some of the other patrons at the diner stared at Dean in response to his raised voice. He lowered his voice not needing to attract any unwanted attention.

"We have crossed paths before and that is all I am going to tell you. Oh, and another thing. No tricks or your brother dies."

"I'll be waiting." The silence on the other end indicated the call was over.

Bobby had a quizzical look. "So what did she say?"

"No tricks ..." He could barely get out the words. "or Sammy dies."