so another chappy...thanks for all the awesome reviews!! i live to read them!! thanks for reading!! bambers;)
Chapter Four
Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fidgeting with his tie as he waited for the manager of the bank. Dean had already been missing for well over twenty-four hours and Sam was still no closer to finding out who had abducted him. Not knowing what else to do, Sam decided that the ATM camera was his best hope for finding some clue as to who took his brother. And so here he sat, pretending to be an FBI agent for some snob-nosed bank manager.
His father hadn't bothered to call back even though Sam had left him at least ten urgent messages. You'd think the freakin' man would care just a little bit that his oldest son is missing. But why should this time be any different from all the other times. All he ever thinks about . . . cares about is that damn demon.
The door behind him swung up then closed, and Sam stood to greet the man. As he turned, surprise lit across his features as a petite, raven-haired woman with dazzling blue eye smiled at him.
"Um . . . ." Sam was momentarily left at a loss for words, "thought you were a guy."
"No, last time I checked, I was definitely a female," she chuckled.
"Yeah, I can see that with your," he gestured toward her ample breasts, then quickly lowered his hand, blushing profusely, "uhh . . . what I meant to say was that they told me I would be speaking with a Billy Carter, an' I just thought . . . well, I figured . . . but you have . . . ." Sam's voiced trailed off, knowing he was only making matters worse.
"I have breasts, is that what you mean?" She gestured for him to raise his head, "An' I also have eyes only they're up a little higher." Sam lifted his head to meet her steady gaze. "Ah, there you go. See that wasn't so tough, now was it, Agent Mulder? Think it would be really rather uncomfortable if we both just sat here staring at each others," she motioned toward Sam's pants, and smiled again, "think you get the picture."
"I'm sorry, I mean . . . I'm not . . . I don't usually . . . but — "
"Can I ask why you're here, Agent Mulder," Billy asked as she took a seat behind her desk. "I have to leave for a meeting in a half hour, so I really don't have time for this."
"Yeah, sure," he hitched a thumb over his shoulder toward the front of the bank. "A man was abducted from the bar across the street late Saturday night, and I need to review your ATM camera footage to see if we can get a license plate on the assailants."
"I didn't hear anything about it on the news?" Billy said, concern etching her delicate features.
"We're keeping it from the news for the moment incase the perpetrators are holding out for a ransom." Sam forced a fake smile, trying hard not to show his fear that his brother might already be dead. "The family just wants him back unharmed. I'm sure you can understand that."
"Definitely." Billy stood and headed for the door, motioning for Sam to follow. "If you'll just come with me, I'll have someone set up the footage from Saturday evening for you."
"Thanks."
Billy led Sam into a security room, filled with monitors to watch the people coming and going from the bank. He immediately spied the one from the ATM machine, and breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed it gave a clear view of the parking lot Dean had been abducted from.
Billy quickly explained to the security officer what Sam was looking for, and with a nod, the man grabbed the tapes from a long shelf lined with them. Within a few moment, the man brought the footage of Saturday evening up on another separate monitor.
"About what time are you lookin' for?" the security guard turned and asked Sam.
"Around ten-thirty or maybe a little earlier than that."
The guard fast forwarded the tape until the time in the lower right-hand corner of the screen read ten o'clock. "There ya go, that should give you what you need." Without another word, the security guard returned to watching his monitors.
"I have to go," Billy said as she tapped her watch, "if there's anything else you need, just ask Pete." She motioned to the man who had just helped Sam. "He can pretty much do anything with these monitors."
"Thanks," Sam muttered, already totally immersed in his search for his brother's attackers.
Right away he spotted the Impala, but at ten o'clock there wasn't any vehicle parked next to it on wither side. A few minutes later a light blue Ford Taurus pulled into the spot next to Dean, but Sam wasn't able to see the people who got out of the vehicle because someone had chosen that moment to make a withdraw from the ATM machine.
As the person moved away from the machine, Sam noticed a large old van had pulled up along the other side of Dean's car. The picture was dark, and also a frame by frame shot, but if he squinted he could definitely make out two men sitting inside the over-sized vehicle.
For a good twenty minutes they just sat inside the vehicle and waited. At around ten-thirty Sam saw the men get out of the car and head toward something off screen. A tight knot formed in Sam's throat when he saw the two men along with several others dragging Dean toward the back of the van. Within five minutes of forcing Dean into their vehicle, the van sped away out of the parking lot.
Rubbing his eyes, Sam then scrubbed his trembling hand across his face as he turned to Pete. "Think you could zero in on a license plate for me?"
"Sure thing," Pete swivelled around in his chair to look at Sam. "Which car?" he asked as he backed up the tape until Sam told him to stop.
"That van," he pointed at the screen, "I really need the license plate number for that van," Sam replied, and was certain the older man must have heard the desperation in his tone.
Pete zoomed in on the van's plates, shifting dials on his control board to bring the number into focus. "There ya go, New York plates. BYM 4674."
Sam hastily scrawled the license number down, and was on his feet in a shot, heading for the door. "Thanks, you can't even begin to realize how much this helps," he called back over his shoulder, and left before the man even had a chance to say anything else.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Once inside the Impala, Sam grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket, and placed a call. When the person on the other end of the line answered, he said, "Hi, this is Officer Richards from the Jefferson County police department, badge number 453678, I need you to run a plate for me."
"What's the number," a woman replied, sounding slightly bored.
"New York plates, license number, BYM 4674."
"Okay, hold on a second." Within a few moments the woman returned to the phone, "Those plates were reported stolen two months ago by the owner."
"Stolen?" Sam's heart sank into the pit of his stomach. "You're sure."
"I'm reading the report right now, Officer," she replied in a clearly aggravated voice. "A Mr. Sanderson reported that the plates from his Chevy Venture were stolen on August the twenty-fifth of this year while he was on vacation in Toledo."
"And you're sure he wasn't lying?" Sam knew he sounded stupid, and was grasping at straws, but at this point he really didn't care what the woman thought of him.
"Excuse me?"
"I mean, he could've been lying, right? Maybe to throw people off the track."
"Officer, if that's all, I really have other phones to answer."
"No, wait," Sam said as he thought about it some more, "can you give me a list of all out-of-state license's plates that were reported stolen from anywhere in Toledo, Ohio?"
The woman was silent for a moment, and Sam knew she must've thought he was crazy. "There were fifteen out-of-state license plates that were reported stolen in Ohio in August," she replied and proceeded to give him the numbers. "Huh, that odd."
"What?"
"Well, seven of them were reported stolen from the same place."
"Where's that?"
"From a restaurant called, The Father's Dominion. Kind of a weird name for a restaurant, wouldn't you say."
"No, I'm thinkin' the name sounds just about right," Sam said as he thought of the bald headed men with strange tattoos. "Thanks, you've been a lot of help."
Sam hung up and dialed for directory assistance.
"City and state please?" a woman with a whiny voice asked.
"Toledo, Ohio."
"And how may I help you?"
"Need the number for a restaurant called, The Father's Dominion."
"Just one moment please."
Within a few seconds a recorded voice came on the line, and said, "Area code, 419-382-7345 . . . that number again is Area Code, 419-382-7345, and can be directly accessed by pressing one now."
Sam pressed the button and wait for someone to answer.
"The Father's Dominion, how may I help you?" came a deep masculine voice from the other end of the line.
"Yeah, I'm looking for directions to your restaurant?"
"We're located on South Detroit Ave next to Kroger's Grocery store."
"Is the owner there right now?"
"As a matter of fact he is, would you like to speak to him?"
"No, but is he going to be around for a while, I'm kinda lookin' for a job and would really like to speak to him," Sam lied effortlessly. "You are hiring, right?"
"Not sure if we're hiring at the moment, but Dominic should be here for the next hour or so, if you want to stop by."
"I'll do that, thanks." Sam hung up, and pocketed his phone.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Sam strode into The Father's Dominion and glanced around. The room was darkly lit, amber sconces adorning the walls, with two chandeliers hanging from the ceiling on opposite ends of the room. Rich golden tablecloths covered all the tables with lit candles placed atop of them for added light. The walls had been painted a deep hunter shade of green, with expertly painted pictures of vineyards hanging on them. All-in-all it was definitely not a place that Dean or Sam would ever think to go for dinner.
Spotting a waitress, Sam made his way through the empty dining area. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Dominic?" Sam asked the young waitress with short-cropped wavy raven-colored hair.
"My father is over there," she gestured to a corner table where a man, with as equally dark hair, sat alone. "He usually doesn't like to be disturbed while he's eating though."
"It'll only take a moment," Sam said and was about to walk away, but noticed that nearly hidden beneath the short sleeve of her uniform was the same strange tattoo that the bartender had described to Sam. "Interesting tattoo," he motioned to it, "what do the cross and sickles stand for?" Sam gave her his best winsome smile, trying not to look overly interested in the tattoo. "If you don't mind my asking?"
"It means protectors of the father," she replied with a smile.
"Was kinda lookin' to get myself a tattoo, where'd you get that one done?"
"Oh, I didn't get . . . ." her voice trailed off as she glanced in Dominic's direction, "I really have to get back to work." She left Sam to stand there, hurrying off toward the kitchen, but before she'd gone, he noticed the definite look of fear in her dark brown eyes.
Sam strode over to where Dominic sat, and without being asked, he took a seat beside the older man.
"Can I help you?" Dominic asked, narrowing his pale blue eyes on Sam.
"Yeah, think you can," Sam leaned over the table, "I'm lookin' for my brother."
"And why would I know where your brother is?" Dominic smirked as he raised a glass of wine to his lips and took a long leisurely drink, apparently not the least bit intimidated by Sam.
"His name's Dean, an' I think maybe you might know him." Sam smiled politely, although his tightly clenched fists belied the gesture. "Six foot tall, scruffy sandy brown hair, green eyes, does that ring any bells?"
"Can't say that it does." Dominic returned his attention to cutting his steak. Taking a bite of the overly rare meat, he motioned to the plate with his fork, "You should really try the ribeye steak, best in town. On the house, of course." He smiled at Sam.
"Not hungry."
"Suit yourself," he said as he went back to eating.
Sam glanced up at the portrait directly behind Dominic, and noticed the similarities between the older man and the young girl in the painting. There was a sad almost fearful look in the girl's pale blue eyes that reminded him of the waitress he'd just spoken to. And although he didn't actually think the girl in the painting and waitress were related, they both had short black hair and delicate features.
"Is that your daughter?" Sam asked as he pointed to the portrait.
"Was my daughter. Shannon was killed," Dominic replied stoically. "She left home, got involved with some guy and died because of it."
"When did she die?" Sam asked, thinking back to the night that Bloody Mary had come after Dean and him. Dean's eyes had bled that night. He'd had a secret and someone died. If Shannon had died because of Dean it would certainly explain why Dominic had abducted him.
"About a year ago." Dominic continued to eat his dinner as if the thought of his daughter being murdered didn't bother him in the slightest.
"This man murdered your daughter?"
"Didn't say that, said she died because of him." The older man looked up at Sam, and quirked a sardonic brow. "No one takes what belongs solely to me. No one."
Horrible understanding dawned upon Sam. Dean must have been trying to help Shannon escape from her father, and Dominic hunted Shannon down and killed her because she'd left him. And if the man was crazed enough to kill his own child, Sam had no doubt he would kill Dean as well.
"Want my brother back now."
"If I did have your brother," Dominic's steely gaze locked with Sam's, almost daring Sam to look away, "I can guarantee you one thing for certain, you'd never ever find him."
"I wouldn't count on it. I'm really, really good at finding things when I set my mind to it."
Dominic chuckled as he wiped his face with the cloth napkin that had been sitting on his lap. "But what if there was nothing left to find?"
A shiver of fear ran the length of Sam's spine, his heart constricting painfully at the thought that Dean might already be dead. Not wanting Dominic to realize how badly his last words had affected him, Sam clenched his fists even tighter, hiding the fact that his hands were trembling.
"If you so much as harmed one single hair on his head, I'm gonna kill you." Sam narrowed his eyes on the man, his gaze turning deadly. "An' that's a promise."
"One hair, huh?" Dominic threw back his head and laughed as if Sam had said something incredibly funny. "Don't think that's gonna be a problem," he uttered between barking laughter.
For a moment Sam couldn't think of why Dominic would find what he'd said so damn funny, but then realization struck him with such force, it nearly staggered him. All the men who had abducted Dean had their hair shaved off, and Sam was now certain that they'd done that to Dean as well.
"You freakin' sonuvabitch," Sam growled, and leaping to his feet, he lunged at the man.
Drawing back his fist to strike the gloating man in the face, Sam's wrist was caught in an ironlike grip. So intent on getting answers about Dean, Sam had failed to sense the dangerous situation he'd placed himself in. And as the man who had grabbed hold of his arm, swung Sam around to face him, Sam counted at least seven of Dominic's men standing behind him.
Sam jerked his arm back hard, yanking free, and slammed his fist into the bald man's beefy face, quickly following it with a well-placed shot to the kidneys. A rush of air escaped the man as he doubled over.
All the rest of the men converged on Sam. Sam swung wildly as they grabbed hold of him, punching, kicking and elbowing them in an attempt to break free, but soon by sheer number alone, they overpowered him. Knocking him to the ground, they held onto him firmly as the waitress he'd spoken to earlier came forward. In her hand she held a syringe full of clear liquid, and as she knelt beside Sam, he could almost see a look of regret in her face.
Sam fought all the harder against the men, knowing that if they drugged him, he would never find Dean. Thrashing violently, he almost broke free, but someone kneed him in the stomach, and they regain their hold on him as he fought desperately to regain his breath.
The needle pierced his skin, and he let out a low hiss as the liquid coursed through him. Within a few minutes, his body began to relax against his own will. Valiantly, he fought against the affects of the drug, trying to keep his eyes open, although as the moments ticked by he found it more and more impossible to do so. His thoughts began to swirl dreamlike as his arms and legs went limp. The men released their hold on Sam, and all stood to circle him.
"Is he to be a member of the family?" Sam vaguely heard one of the men ask.
"I'm not sure yet," came Dominic's distorted sounding voice, "he'd make for a nice addition, but then I'd have to kill his brother. Not sure I want to do that just yet."
"Should we kill him then," another faint voice said as Sam struggled uselessly against the drug taking a firm hold on him.
"No, just make sure he's damaged enough that he wouldn't be going anywhere for quite sometime," Dominic laughed as he kicked Sam squarely in the ribs, "just in case his brother fails to fall in line." He knelt beside Sam, gripped hold of Sam's hair, and yanked him forward. "Think it might just be fun to try and break you." He quirked a brow, and smiled cruelly at Sam. "Think maybe I'll break your brother then kill him, an' then I'll come after you." Dominic forcefully pushed Sam backward, Sam's head colliding hard with the ground. He stood and strode away from Sam, calling back over his shoulder, "Yeah, think that's exactly what I might just do."
"D-Dean . . . ." All thoughts left Sam as his eyelids fluttered closed, and darkness overtook him.