Sam fiddled with the radio in the Impala as he waited for his brother. Dean had gone into a convenience store for groceries. They had a case cross-country in California, and were planning an attempt to drive straight through from Tennessee.

Dean had been in the store for what seemed like forever. Growing impatient, Sam got out of the car and lit up a cigarette. He didn't make a habit of smoking, but the stress of trying to find a way out of Dean's deal drove him to find a way to relieve his tension.

As he leaned against the Impala with his cigarette, a tan Buick pulled into the parking spot next to him. Thinking nothing of it, Sam turned and leaned into the car to turn up the radio. As he stuck his head into the car, a man got out of the Buick and came up behind him. Shoving a gun into his back, he grabbed Sam by the jacket and pulled him out of the car. Instinctively Sam twisted around and took a swing, but his assailant hit him in the stomach with the butt of his gun, knocking the wind out of him. As Sam tried to catch his breath, the assailant grabbed him by the coat and pulled him to his feet, pointing the gun directly at his face.

"You try that again and I'll put a bullet in your head. Got it?" Sam nodded fearfully. "You're going to walk with me over to my car, get into the driver's seat, and go where I tell you to go. If you do anything other than what I tell you to do, I won't hesitate to put a bullet in you. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, just take it easy with that thing," Sam said calmly. The assailant pushed him toward the Buick, and Sam calmly walked around to the driver's side and got in. With the gun pointed at him the entire time, Sam put the car in reverse and floored it, causing the tires to screech loudly. The assailant put the gun to Sam's right thigh and shot him. Sam yelped in pain and the car lurched forward into the street. Sam quickly regained control and got onto his side of the road.

"Try something like that again and I'll shoot you in the head next time."

Sam nodded and kept driving. He only hoped Dean had heard the commotion in time.

--

The sound of tires screeching brought Dean out of the convenience store in time to see a tan Buick driving away from the gas station. Sam was nowhere to be found. He took out his cell phone and tried to call him, but was dismayed to hear Sam's phone ringing somewhere near the Impala. He followed the ringing and found Sam's phone on the ground.

"Dammit, Sam! Where the hell are you?" The realization hit Dean that his brother was more than likely in that Buick that had just left the gas station, and that he was in trouble.

Thinking quickly, Dean rifled through the trunk of his car for the fake badge he often used to get information for hunts that would never be available to him otherwise. When he found it, he went back into the store and flashed his badge at the clerk.

"Lieutenant Jones, State Police. I have reason to believe a kidnapping happened right outside just a few minutes ago, and I'd like to see your security tapes right now."

The clerk looked confused at Dean's request, but didn't seem to be fooled. "Sir, can you wait here for a moment? I'm going to get my manager." With that the girl went into the back room. She came out moments later following an older woman with short, graying hair and a limp.

"What seems to be the problem, sir?" the manager asked. Dean took out his badge again.

"My name is Lieutenant Dan Jones, and as I told your clerk, I have reason to believe that someone has been kidnapped on your premises, and I need to see your security tapes for the past half-hour! I don't want to have to arrest you for obstructing justice, ma'am."

The manager turned and started toward the back room. "Follow me, Lieutenant." Dean took a deep breath and followed her into the back.

The back room was small. There was just enough room for a desk with the security computer resting on it, and a file cabinet. The manager sat down and rewound the security tapes by a half-hour. "Here you are, Lieutenant. I'll be out front. Feel free to ask questions if you need to."

"Thank you, ma'am." Dean sat down and set to work with the tapes. He couldn't believe that had actually worked. He didn't really need to view a half-hour's worth of tape, but he wanted to sound convincing. He put the tape on fast-forward until the point when he parked the Impala and went into the store. He hadn't been in the store for more than five minutes when he saw Sam get out of the car and smoke a cigarette. Seconds later, he saw the Buick pull up next to the Impala, and a man got out and went after Sam with a gun.

Dean stopped the tape when the man's face came into view.

"It can't be. How the hell did he get out of jail?" Dean got up and went back out front. "Thank you, I've found the information I need." With that he left the store and climbed into his Impala. Quickly he dialed Bobby's cell phone. The older man answered with a grunt.

"Dean, it's three in the morning. What do you need?"

"Sam's gone."
Bobby shot up in bed. "Gone? Whaddya mean gone?"

"Somebody put a gun to his head while I was inside a mini-mart, and they took off in a tan Buick. And there's one other thing…"

"What's that, Dean?"

"I know who took him, and if I'm right we have to get to Sam before the bastard kills him."