Author's Note: Now I know what you're thinking: that was a quick update! Right? Well it comes with a price, unfortunately. I won't be able to update again till Thursday or Friday morning. Sorry guys. But thanks for the reviews. Hopefully you keep them coming!

Last Time...

After a riveting game of Hide and Seek, Ronald decided he had enough and trapped Dean. Sam had a bit of a run-in with one of Ronald's workers...

You may now return to your regularly scheduled program (:

-Chapter Four:

"Hiya, Ronald," Dean says sheepishly. Dean's back was pressed against the tile on the wall. The coolness of it seeped through his shirt and caused a shiver to run down his spine. He pushed his head into the tile, trying to create space between him and Ronald's face. Dean's eyes dropped to the clown's blood stained lips. His once messed up makeup had become even worse.

The hand that Dean held the knife in was gripped tighter by Ronald. His pointer and middle finger dug into the underside of Dean's wrist. He pressed so hard it drew blood. The clowns thumb pressed into Dean's bone, causing Dean to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Seeing Dean in pain didn't make Ronald want to stop. If anything, he pressed harder and harder until the knife slipped out of Dean's grip and fell to the floor, breaking the silence.

Just then, the clown lightened his grip. With his huge clown shoe, he kicked the knife deeper into the kitchen, making it vanish into the darkness. Dean's head turned to the side as he watched it slide away from him.

In one quick move, Dean dipped and slid over, out from under the clown's blocking arms. He spun once, trying to make sure the clown didn't lay a hand on him and then he dropped to the floor suddenly when he caught the clown's fist coming to make contact with his face. Instead of punching him, he punched the wall.

Once on the floor, Dean placed his foot behind Ronald's and pushed forward. Ronald lost balance and came crashing to the floor. It was a wonder he hadn't fell earlier, the shoes he was wearing were the size of boats.

Trying to imitate what he seen in movies, Dean tried to dive over Ronald to get to the knife. That didn't work out too well. Ronald stopped him mid-dive with his arm. It crashed into his midsection. Momentarily, Dean could only see black dots, but they were wiped away in a windshield wiper motion as he collapsed onto the clown.

"Oh," Dean moaned, pushing himself up. "Damn."

Quickly, Dean gathered himself and climbed back on Ronald. He punched him once and instantly felt his finger make a cracking sound as soon as it came in contact with it. In a boomerang movement, Dean's hand bounced off Ronald's face and instantly Dean brought it to his chest and held it.

The clown laughed.

With one swift movement, he bucked and tossed Dean into the wall, knocking his head against it hard. He slid down to the floor, blinking hard. The black dots were back again and Dean shook his head to clear them.

Ronald stood.

Forcing himself, Dean stood, too.

But he didn't wait to see what Ronald was going to do. He bolted onto the darkness of the kitchen area. In the dark, he felt ahead of him like a blind person until he came to the counter. He dropped to the floor, and pressed himself against it as he crawled. He followed the counter until it stopped and sat down. Still, he held his hand at his chest, the pain beginning to seep in, the more he had a chance to think about it.

In the distance, Dean heard Ronald coming. He knew it was him, too. The sound of his shoes gave it away. They had a certain clunk to them that only a ten-pound-shoe like that could. With his other hand, Dean felt from something around him. His hands swiped at the ground as he looked for something- anything- to use against Ronald.

Not feeling anything on the ground, he raised his hand up above his head and searched the countertop. His hand brushed against a handle and pushed it away some. He tried again, this time grabbing it.

Clunk...clunk...clunk...

Ronald was getting closer. Dean took hold of whatever he was grabbing at and brought it down with him. He tapped the tip of it and felt that it was shiny. It was another knife, but it was definitely a lot smaller than the other one he had; but this would have to do.

Clunk...clunk...clunk...

Dean's breath hitched in his throat when he saw the huge shoes at his side. Ronald was facing the other way, though; suspecting that Dean ran off in the other way. Seeing this as his only chance, Dean fixed his grip on the knife and prepared. He counted to three in his head, then used all his might to stab the knife into the clowns calf. Abruptly, Ronald jerked backwards, but fell forward. His huge hand was tugging at the knife in his leg.

Stepping over the injured clown, Dean made his way for the front. He didn't even look back to see if Ronald was chasing him. Honestly, he didn't care. The only thing on his mind was going back for Sam and making sure he was okay.

"I'll find you!" Ronald promised, still struggling with the knife in his calf. "You can't run you bastard! You can't run from me!"

Dean doesn't listen, though. Instead, he trots over to the play-pin where he left Sam. He makes sure to be quiet, as not to draw attention to himself.

Once he reaches the play-pin he opens the door slowly, making sure it didn't squeak.

"Sammy?"

Nothing. Not one sound.

Dean lets the door fall closed as he walks over to the front of the slide and looks up it.

"Sam, it's me. C'mon we gotta fi-"

Dean stops mid-sentence when he realizes he's talking to no one.

He feels his eyebrows rise.

"Sam!" he says a little louder, but not too loud.

Again, nothing but silence answers him.

Dean drops his head.

"Damn it, Sam. Why the hell don't you ever listen?"

*All Jokes Aside*

"What're we gonna do with him?" Harvey, the fry cook, asked. He was young with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. Before he was turned, he was a straight A student and the kicker on his high school football team.

Dagger, the man who had brought Sam to them, shrugged. Dagger was the most faithful to Ronald, but he also was the one with the biggest heart. He didn't mind hurting a couple of people, but he usually regretted it in a couple minutes. Ronald told him constantly that it was something he would grow out of.

Sam was slumped on the ground. His head rested on the wet brick wall next to him. His mouth was open slightly as he breathed in and out slowly. Sam's injured arm had been wrapped in a white bandage and his jacket had been removed. He was cold, it was freezing down there. Almost 30 degrees.

"Is he cooperative?" Sugar asked. She was the one who had taken their order earlier. She, too, had been turned, but it wasn't recently. Her soul had been this way for decades and decades, but the body was new. She had been using poor Susan's body as a suit for a couple months now.

"Doubt it," Harvey says, rubbing his eye.

"He's a kid," Dagger says, watching Sam's sleeping form.

"Those are usually the ones you have to look out for," chimes in Angel as he walked down the stairs. Even though Dagger was the most loyal, Angel was definitely the leader when Ronald wasn't around, and sometimes when he was around. Angel was the most spontaneous, probably because he's been around the longest. But being around for centuries didn't just make him wise, it made him deadly and dangerous. He had seen every trick in the book and didn't hesitate to snap your neck if you provoked him. Everyone but Harvey feared him, but that's only because he had a sweet spot for him.

Angel, in contrary to his name, was pure evil. The body that Angel wore was one of a biker. His hair was long and pulled into a ponytail. He always wore the leather jacket, and only took it off when completely and utterly necessary.

"Wake up," Angel commanded, slapping the side of Sam's face.

Sam stirred a little. His eyes blinked open and he stared up at Angel.

"Who... who are you?" Sam mumbled, trying to get his eyes back into focus.

Suddenly, a strong backhand stung his lips.

"I ask the questions around here."

Sam was quiet. Tears swelled in his eyes as he looked up at Angel in fear. Angel loved that look. It proved to him that he was the one in charge, the one to give orders and expect them to be carried out properly.

"What's your name?" Angel asked.

Sam licked his lips, but didn't answer. Rolling his eyes, Angel sighed. "Speak," he commanded.

Sam bit his lip as he tried to find his voice. "Sam," he whispers.

Angel laughed as he stood. "That's cute."

"Why?" Sam says, but instantly regretted it when another slap stung his lips again.

"Did I tell you to speak?" Angel boomed.

Dagger cleared his throat. "Maybe you should leave the child alone, Ang."

Seemingly offended, Angel makes a sound of disgust. He looked back down at Sam, his black eyes staring him down.

"Maybe you should go get the room ready, Dag."

Both Dagger and Sugar's mouth dropped open.

"What?" Dagger says. "You're gonna Water-board him?" he asks in astonishment.

Angel's smirk was his only reply.

"He didn't do anything. What's your reason?" Sugar asks.

Angel shrugs. "I don't like his attitude. And don't try to sound all sympathetic, Sugar. You love doing this so you can drop the innocent act, nobody's buying it."

Dagger shakes his head. "That's not a reason, Angel. I think-"

Angel puts up his hand to silence him.

He flicks his hand. "I don't ask twice, Dagger. Go."

With that, Dagger heads off into the back room to set up. Just before he leaves the room, he shoots Sam a quick look of sympathy. A look that says 'Sorry, kid. You don't deserve this..'

Angel's one cold-hearted thing, isn't he? I can tell that he's going to be a joy to be around...

Let's play: WORD OF THE DAY! Yay!

Waterboarding- is a form of torture that consist of immobilizing the subject on his/her back with the head inclined downwards; water is then poured over the face and into breathing passages, thus triggering the choking reflex, making the captive experience the sensations of drowning.

Didn't you feel intelligent reading that? lol

That was straight from Google, if you're wondering...

*Announcer's Voice* On Next Week's Episode: Sam gets more water than he can handle...

Don't be shy; I don't bite. Review! (: