AN: Okay, hello. This is sort a favor for my good friend 'Devil917', but it's also a pleasure and a challenge as well, so I'm looking forward to all of this. This story is actually based off her story 'Jigsaw'. Long story, short, she isn't going to be able to finish it so she'd like me to give it a shot. If you've read her story, then I hope you won't be disappointed. Of course I'm not going to rewrite her story word for word, but I'm keeping the concept and letting my imagination run wild.
This one's for you, girl. I hope I make you proud!
Timeset: Preseason. Sam's 16, Dean's 20.
(Better) Summary: Sam's taken by a man with a harsh, twisted game in mind. The only rule is to play by his rules. The world is the game board, John and Dean are the players, and Sam's the grand prize. With only clues, hints, and slight leads to go on, John just hopes he can get to Sam in time. The clock's moving. Tick tock...
Warning: This story will get dark. You've been warned.
Chapter One: Do You Wanna Play a Game?
Blindfolded, gagged, shackled, and handcuffed.
Nothing much else seemed to register in Sam's clouded mind than that. It felt like he was coming out of a coma or something similar for how disoriented he felt. He didn't remember...anything. What happened? He went to rub the side of his face when the handcuffs pulled taut and stopped his motion. He should have seen that one coming. Handcuffs. Mentally, Sam shook himself. He tried to think of what had happened. Why was he here? How did he get here?
Little by little Sam's senses were coming back to him. He wasn't even sure if he was completely awake. Something just wasn't making sense to him. He didn't feel scared, he didn't feel worried, he didn't fear for his life; even though deep down he knew he should. Somehow, all his emotion had drained away, leaving him in somewhat of a robotic state. But one thing he knew for sure? He knew he had to get out of here and he had to do it quick. There was no telling what's in store for him.
Since seeing was no longer an option for the time being, he used all his other senses as much as he could. What he was lying on felt like a mattress. A worn out, old, smelly, unused mattress. Sam could just feel the stench sticking to him. The springs in it pierced through the thin top layer and were pinching Sam's skin. It was annoying. The cuffs around his wrists were hooked in front of him tightly. He was beginning to feel that tingly, pin-like sensation throughout his hands and fingers. They were losing their circulation and if he didn't get them off soon, I'd be bad.
In the background was a swooshing sound. Like a washing machine, an air conditioning, running water, something Sam couldn't quite place his finger on. He didn't hear movement from anyone though, which lead him only to believe he was alone for the time being. With his left leg, he kicked backwards and almost immediately felt the brick wall kicking back. He felt lightheaded a second later and it made him sick to his stomach; and if it weren't for the cloth and duct tape tied tightly around his mouth to keep him quiet, he was sure he'd barf.
More and more, Sam's robotic-like feeling began to turn into actual emotions. The sound of his heart seemed to echo off the walls.
He was taken. Someone has kidnapped him. Someone had taken him, knocked him out, covered his eyes so he couldn't see, handcuffed him so he couldn't fight back, and gagged him so he couldn't yell. This person, who ever it is, was serious on keeping Sam all to their self.
But through all of this, what worried Sam the most is that he couldn't remember. He couldn't recall how he got here, how he was overpowered, or anyone that was creepy enough to make him a little more cautious. How could he have been so stupid? If this person doesn't kill him, his father and Dean sure will.
Dean has began to walk out the door just as John was trying to walk in. They bumped, took two steps back and looked at each other awkwardly for a moment before John finally said, "Going somewhere?" with a slight smile.
Subconsciously, Dean scratched the side of his head, craning his neck in a circle. The look in his eyes was something John hadn't seen before and it changed his mood completely.
"I-I'm just...taking a walk."
He brushed past John in the doorway, bumping shoulders with him, but before he could take another step John grabbed his arm. Dean turned back around, sighing slightly. He kept his gaze on the ground, looking at his boots as they kicked a stray rock into the motel parking lot.
"To where?" John asked. He didn't like Dean's body language. Something was worrying him, which only made John begin to worry even if he wasn't sure why.
Dean's eyebrows raise a little as he says, "Sam school."
Now John started to worry.
"What happened?" he glances down at the watch on his wrist. "It's almost six o'clock. School's over. He..."
"Should have been home by now," Dean finishes. "I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe he's gotta make up a test, or stay after for something that slipped my mind but..I don't know."
Sam's sixteen now, just turned it about two weeks ago, and with that he hinted that he should be trusted more. 'I can handle myself' were his exact words. And even though John and Dean hadn't answered him verbally, they sort of let on that they'd give him a little more leeway. But none of that was going to stop them from worrying. Sam was still Dean's little brother and he was still John's son, and that was the only reason they needed to go barging in to wherever they wanted if it was in attempt to keep Sam safe.
John pulled the door shut to the motel, turned the key, and locked it.
"I'll go with you," was all he said.
Being alone in the dark, the silence, and nothing but the swooshing sound made Sam fall asleep. He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, but when he woke back up, he felt even worse than he did before. He felt sick. Literally sick to his stomach. His head hurt. This time, he was more alert. Just a little more aware. His heart rate was up, so was his blood pressure. The room had a slight spin on it, making his head sure even more. The numbness to the side of his head was suddenly apparent and the blood dripping from whatever would he had there was something he'd noticed, too. But knowing it was there only allowed the pain to register in his slowly awakening brain. He groaned, but it came out like he was speaking into a pillow. The gag in his mouth smothering any sound made from him.
Heavy, elephant- like footsteps were what stopped Sam from all movement. Someone was here. They sounded like they were coming down steps. Sam figured he was in a basement or some sort or at least on a lower level of a warehouse or...something. It was hard to try to come to conclusions when you don't remember anything and two of your five senses are missing.
The feet of the person had stopped moving and Sam could feel his presence hovering over him in a creepy fashion.
"Are you awake yet? It's been hours kid."
It was a man. This person was definitely a man. The voice was deep...rugged. Sam breathed in deeply, but he only got the harsh smell of the man. He'd cough if the gag wasn't preventing it.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence-stillness. Sam has just began to think he'd went anyway when a heaviest and hardest of kicks were delivered to his stomach. Two hard kicks that sent angry pain through his abdomen. He would have cried out if he could, but instead he made this noise that would remind you of a puppy. It was a whimper, really. Or maybe more of a squeal. The pain from it clouded Sam's eyes with tears that ran freely down his cheeks and got caught on the gag before it could hit the mattress.
"I said wake up."
The anguish sent Sam into a mini-coughing fit, which only made him suck in more of the mucky air, which only resulted in him coughing more. He could hear the man giggle a deep, bone chilling giggle as he watched Sam on the ground struggle to control not only the pain but his breathing. His forceful hands came and yanked the gag from Sam's mouth. Sam could feel it as it snagged his tongue on his bottom tooth and the blood as it collected in his mouth. The way it was pulled form his, he was sure would leave something like rope burns on his cheeks. As soon as it was out of his mouth, Sam gasped in the dry air. He needed to. He felt like he couldn't breathe.
Again, the man let out a little bit of a laugh. He leaned over, gripped Sam by his shoulder and sat him up. Sam could feel as the man got closer. So close he could feel his breathing. Sam's first instinct was to move away. He couldn't see, so telling just how far his capture actually was was hard, so he pushed his head back trying to create some space, but it only came in contact with the brick wall behind him. It was like firecrackers went off in his head. Sam cringed at the pain.
Before he had a chance for it to register in his head, the man was tapping his thighs, looking for something. When he felt it in Sam's right pocket, he dug his hand in and reached for it. Sam jumped, not wanted this man's hands on him.
That's when Sam felt his cell phone being slipped out of his pocket.
"Bingo," came the deep voice again. Sam swallowed hard, but the back of his throat was dry like sandpaper. A second later he felt the man sit next to him on the bed, his weight leaning Sam to one side. He could just barely hear the button on his phone being pushed. Then the phone was pressed to Sam's ear.
The man cleared his throat before whispering in a chilling tone, "Say hello to daddy..."
The phone rang once...twice...three times...fou-
"Sam?" came his father's voice.
Sam was quiet for a minute, trying to gather himself. He wasn't even sure he could talk because his throat felt so rough. He tried anyway.
"Dad..." his voice was weak, he barely recognized it. His voice was shaky. He didn't know if it was from nerves, his heart racing, the gag, or from being quiet for so long.
"Sammy where the hell are you? We were worried sick. We-"
"Dad, help me..."
John's mood change could be felt through the phone. His voice went from being slightly annoyed to full protective father/trained hunter mode. He spoke, "Sam where are you?"
The phone was ripped from Sam's ear, and when he didn't answer immediately, John could be heard calling his name several times.
The man clears his throat. "John," he says heavily.
John gulps, hearing the unfamiliar voice . He grips the phone tighter. "Who the hell are you? Where's my son?"
"I'm sorry, what?"Sam's capture says with fake, teasing confusion.
"I know you hear me, you bastard," John scolds. "Where's my son?"
On the other end, the man laughs.
"What the hell is so funny?"
"You," the man answers.
John didn't have time for this. He bit the inside of his lip. "What do you want?"
The man smiles, looking back at Sam half-conscious on the mattress. He runs a hand through his too-oily hair.
"Do you want to play a game, John Winchester?"
So, what do you think? Please let me know.