Author's Note: Again, thanks so much for the reviews. You guys rock (:

Last Time...

Just when the boys thought they dodged a bullet by hiding in the slide, Dean cell phone rang; bring attention to themselves... way to go, Dean =_=

You may now return to your regularly scheduled program (:

-Chapter Three:

Damn it!

Everyone froze for a second. The only thing breaking the silence was Dean's ringing cell phone. Sam was staring up at him, complete fear in his eyes, waiting for Dean to do something. But Dean didn't know what to do. He had to think, and he had to think quickly. The door to the play-pin closed and there were footsteps heard though the ringing of Dean's phone. Quickly, Dean pressed the button on his phone, silencing it. But it didn't matter by now. Ronald knew they were in there and he'd stop at nothing to kill them both.

With his other hand still covering Sam's mouth, Dean pointed his finger at him.

"Stay right here. Don't move. Don't say anything. Understand?" Dean instructed almost silently. His voice only loud enough for Sam to hear. Dean figured it like this: Ronald only knew that someone with a cell phone was in here. That person would be Dean. So if Dean goes out and shows himself and tried to make it look like he's the only one in here, Ronald would take him; leaving Sam safe in here. There was no telling how that was going to work out, but it was worth a try...

Dean pushed himself up. Sam put his hand on the side his leg, his face almost begging him not to go. Dean shook his head, removing Sam's hand. He gave him a look that told him to stay quiet. And then he stood up.

Ronald was on ground level staring up at Dean. His evil eyes looking him up and down, sizing him up. Dean returned the glare.

Moving toward the purple painted stairs, Ronald rushed toward Dean. With an unnoticeable glance to Sam, he suddenly remembered that Ronald couldn't come up here. If he came up to the level that Dean was on, he'd see Sam and the whole plan would be ruined. Keeping that in mind, Dean took hold of the yellow bar to the right of him and swung to the ground. His feet slammed hard on the thin carpet. Ronald stopped, trying to tell where Dean was going and what he was up to.

"Come and get it," Dean taunted, moving to the furthest side of the jungle gym; completely opposite of Ronald.

The clown moved briskly. Apparently, he was like one of those killers who walked really fast but never seemed to run. Dean smiled at that thought. Even though he was sure he could outrun either way, knowing that only made it seem easier.

Ronald crossed the swinging bridge in just enough time to Dean to make a break for the door. He yanked it open and jogged into the main part of the McDonalds. Dean smiled, looking over his shoulder expecting to see Ronald trailing miserably, trying to catch up. To his surprise, Ronald was only about a foot behind in and gaining inches. Dean picked up speed.

So much for Ronald not being able to run. Trust me, he could run. And he could run fast.

-All Jokes Aside-

John lifted his head up as he seen a shadow flash past the door. He might've been going crazy, but he could've sworn Dean had just ran past. John shook his head. That was crazy. He must've been seeing things, right.

Wanting to believe it, but not wanting to take any chances, John picked up his phone and dialed Dean's number again.

This time it went straight to voice mail.

Either he had turned his cell phone off or it got disconnected somehow.

Ever had that feeling in your stomach where you know something's wrong, you just can't place what it is exactly? That's how John felt. But he knew from past experiences that when he got that feeling, something was truly wrong and he needed to find out what. Stepping out of the car, he dialed Dean's number one more time. In the back of his mind he knew it wasn't going to work, but he didn't see any harm in giving it one more try. Thee time's a charm, right?

"Hey, this is Dean. Leave a message."

John flipped the phone closed and grunted. Yeah, something was definitely wrong.

Something in the back of John's mind told him that he'd need his sawed-off and the extra bags of rock-salt. John wasn't sure how he knew something was wrong, but he just did.

Father's instinct, maybe.

-All Jokes Aside-

Sam stayed in the slide, trying to slow his breathing. The one row of lights that were on in the McDonalds left a slight shadow across Sam's face. With his knees pulled up to his chest and his bleeding arm wrapped around them he sighed. Sam only knew three things at this point: one, Dean was somewhere out there trying to fight off his worst nightmare; two, his arm hurt more and more by the second; and three, he couldn't stay here. Sam may not be the strongest fourteen year old in the world, but he could sure as hell pretend to be.

Dean was in trouble, that's all the motivation Sam needed.

Sam's eyes darted every which-way, keeping a lookout for anything that might've entered the pay area without him noticing. He let out a deep breath, keeping himself calm. Sam leaned forward in the direction he seen Dean run off in, wondering if he was still in sight. Of course, he wasn't. Sam rolled his eyes and decided it was time for him to leave. Sam felt he had to do something. He couldn't just let Dean do all of this by himself. He had to help in any way he could.

'Stay right here. Don't move...'

Dean's voice echoed in the back of Sam's mind, but he shook his head, knocking it out.

Without using his hurt arm, Sam pulled himself to the top of the slide. Only his head was exposed, but just a little. He peeked out on either side, making sure the coast was clear. When he seen it was, Sam climbed completely out of the slide and crouched down. He looked over through the big glass windows that surrounded the play pin and examined the direction that Dean went in. He didn't see anything. Not one thing. Not even a shadow. That worried Sam.

But it also showed him that nothing was near him. He felt it was safe enough for him to stand up, he began to walk down the stairs that were adjacent to the slide he had just come out of. As Sam walked, the silence was his worst enemy. Any little sound he made seemed to be amplified and echoed all over. Even though Sam was pretty sure all of that was in his head, he still felt the need to be as silent as a church mouse.

Finally, Sam was on ground level again and began to make his way to the door.

He put his hand on the handle and opened it. Of course, as fate would have it, the door squeaked. Sam froze. When Dean opened the door it was silent. When the crazy clown opened the door it was silent. But when Sam opens the door? Of course it squeaks.

Sam's eyes bounced off the walls, making sure that he was still alone. It seemed he was.

Being as quiet as he could, Sam walked forward, keeping a sharp eye out for anything that moved even the slightest bit. Sam stated forward and came to s stop when he seen someone banging on the door. The person was just a shadow from Sam's angle and he wasn't sure if he could get close enough to find out who the person was. His gut was screaming at him to go back in the slide where it's safe and just wait for Dean. Dean had promised he'd come back for Sam, and he believed it. But his brain was telling him that he needed to find his brother. And frankly, Sam was just too damn nosy to sit around and wait. He needed to be apart of the action. He needed to feel like he'd helped; even if it was in the slightest bit.

The banging on the door snapped him out of his thoughts and back to reality. Blinking a few times, Sam walked closer. By the time he had finally got close enough to see that his father was the one knocking at the door, he already began running. Sam reached the door and put his hands to the glass.

"Dad, you gotta help us!" Sam yelled.

It seemed like John couldn't hear what he was saying because his mouth was moving quick. He was probably giving Sam instructions or saying something about getting Dean, but Sam couldn't hear him. All he seen was a bunch of mouth movements. The clown must've made the place sound proof because Sam couldn't hear his father and apparently John couldn't hear him either. John pointed down to the door handle. Sam didn't see it, though because he was too busy yelling at his dad to come help him. Getting frustrated, John bangs on the glass. Sam stops and watches carefully. John points at the handle again and make a movement like someone opening a door.

Sam shook his hand and shrugged.

"It's locked. We're locked inside!"

John's face showed confusion. He couldn't hear him. John put his hand to his ear, telling him to say it again.

Instead of talking, Sam tugged on the door, showing him that he and Dean were locked in and that John was locked out.

"Damn it," John cursed. He looked down at the gun in his hand for a second as the tried to think of a plan. He looked back up slowly and Sam seen his eyes suddenly go wide like a deer in headlights. His hands banged on the glass. He yelled something.

'Sam, look out!'

Just then, Sam felt his whole body being violently lifted into the air and jerked backwards into the tables. His arms and his legs flung everywhere as he went through the air and his back was the first thing to some in contact with the table. He hit it hard, knocking all the air out of his lungs. Immediately, his back stung and so did his legs and arms. But he couldn't move. It would only hurt more. With blurry eyes, Sam looked back over in the direction of where his father was. He couldn't see him anymore.

Faintly, Sam heard footsteps. He prayed it was Dean.

It wasn't.

It was a man. He, too, had pure black eyes and wore the McDonalds uniform.

How many of them are there?

Sam felt his vision beginning to go black as the man reached down for him. Sam felt his hands on his sides, lifting him. The man put Sam over his shoulder. His head was pointed downward which didn't help his vision or is circulation at all. Suddenly he felt lightheaded. His felt his palms beginning to clam up, and his head begin to spin.

Just before Sam closed his eyes, he heard a heavy door open and them felt himself being pulled down stairs.

It was dark down there, and it only encouraged Sam to let the darkness in his mind take over.

And soon he couldn't fight it anymore, not even if he tried.

He drifted into unconsciousness.

*All Jokes Aside*

This was a really intense game of Cat and Mouse, and apparently Dean was the mouse.

He and Ronald were now in the darkest part of the kitchen and it was really creepy. Dean slid on his knees behind a tall row of boxes and held his breath.

He had lost Ronald somewhere between the slushy maker and the stove, and Dean liked to keep it that way.

Dean couldn't hear anymore footsteps, but that doesn't mean that he's alone.

A couple of feet away, Dean noticed something shiny. He reached for it, and picked it up. To his advantage it was a knife. But could he use it? Ronald and these other freaks can disappear; what are the chances that being cut with a knife or shot with a bullet would even affect them? Silently, Dean cursed.

In the background, Dean heard a sound. He wasn't sure why he was so sure, but he knew it was Ronald. So he crawled on his knees behind an island in the middle on the kitchen, right where he had found Sam earlier. Dean crouched down and peeked around the side of it. Nothing on the left. He slid over to check the other side. Slowly and cautiously, he peeked again. Nothing on the right.

Dean sighed in relief.

But he wasn't out of the woods yet. Ronald was still in here. Dean just didn't know where. But everything was quiet. Sure, that technically had no meaning, but Dean seen that as a green light. He stood and bolted toward the front of the kitchen that would lead him to the main area, that would lead him to the pay pin where he had left Sam. Safely, Dean made it to the corner.

He walked around it and stopped dead in his tracks. He felt his heart skip a beat and himself gasp a little in surprise.

Ronald stood right in front of him. There was blood on his mouth. Dean prayed to God it wasn't Sam's blood.

Evilly, Ronald the clown smiled at Dean. He grabbed the hand Dean had the knife in and smiled again.

Ronald leaned in close, making sure Dean heard him clearly.

The clown only spoke one word, but it sent a chill down Dean's spine.

In the scariest tone Dean had ever heard, the clown whispered, "Gotcha."

Yeah, so they're both trapped? Usually that's not good...

*Announcer's voice' On Next Week's Episode: Dean finds out Sam's new magic trick...

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