"I'm almost there, Dean." Sam sighed down the phone to her brother.

"Okay Sammy, hurry up though I'm hungry" Dean replied.

Sam rolled her eyes. Trust Dean to have a seemingly bottomless stomach. She had thought that she might surprise him and bought him his favourite on the supply run, apple pie. The store was only a few blocks from the motel but he rang her anyway to see if she was okay as it was dusk and he was an overprotective big brother.

The hunt they had been on had been finished that afternoon. A simple salt and burn, ending quickly but not without Dean gaining a rather large bruise along his ribs from being thrown against a table. Other than that her dad, Dean and her escaped with a few minor grazes. Sam insisted to go to the store without Dean to make him rest; glad that for once she could be the protective one.

Bobby was due to arrive that evening as they were going to team up to go to the next gig to look into some mysterious disappearances a few states over. Sam, being only 16, just wanted to stay put for a little while but she really didn't get a say in things and it just exasperated her. She really wanted something to be normal and stable in her life. But no. Hunting would be her life apparently.

Sam was only 5 minutes from the motel now and carried the plastic bag of food, salt, bandages and, of course the pie, by her side.

"Dean, just relax. I'll be…" Sam was cut off by a sudden pain on the back of her head. Black spots danced in her vision from the sheer force of the blow. A pair of rough hands pulled her into a dark alleyway. Sam kicked out, flailing, trying to claw at her attackers arms that wrapped around her stomach and neck, but he had caught her off guard.

"Stop struggling bitch!" A gravelly voice harshly whispered in her ear. It sounded like he'd had too many cigarettes and his breath reeked of whiskey. Although being rather tall for her age and strong from training, the man was simply bigger and bulkier and she was still dizzy from the hit to her head. Sam couldn't get free from his vice like grip.

In the back ground she could hear Dean shouting through the phone, desperately trying to get Sam to reply, to answer.

The man picked up the phone from where it lay on the ground. He chuckled lightly and looked at the caller ID.

"Sorry, Dean," his voice laced with twisted humour and sarcasm. "She can't make it to the phone right now." He hung up and pocketed the phone.

During the conversation with Dean, if you could call it that, the man had managed to push her against the wall with his hand against her throat, squeezing a little so Sam struggled for breath.

Adrenaline spiked in Sam's blood, desperate to escape this giant of a man, and clawed at his face and wrist. The man winced a bit as she drew blood near his eye but his grip only tightened on her neck.

"Stop it" he emitted a low guttural sound of anger. His hand collided with her cheek in a slap that made her fall to the floor as he released her. She didn't give up the fight. She still tried to use every method of attack she learnt in training but the man was simply too big for her to overpower.

Suddenly a cloth was on her face and before she knew what was happening she breathed in a smell she unfortunately knew well. Chloroform.