Chapter Text
Sam made his way out of yet another bar on his route through rainy downtown Des Moines. He pulled up Dean’s info on his phone and sent a quick “bar #4 is no go,” then tucked the phone back into his pocket. Maybe there would be a clue to whatever they were hunting at the next stop.
His long strides carried him past a few pawn shops and another bar. As his boot splashed into a particularly muddy puddle, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He kept his stride deliberately even, checking his peripherals for anything unusual. He couldn’t see anything particularly out of place, but his gut feeling confirmed one thing.
He was being followed.
Sam turned down the next side street, then ducked into a small alcove, waiting for his pursuer to catch up. He took several steadying breaths, planting his feet firmly and pulling out the demon killing knife he often carried. He waited, poised to attack whoever had decided to follow him.
No one came. He waited. A few cars sped past his hiding place, and the sound of a police siren faded in and then out of hearing range. Still nothing.
Cautiously, he snuck closer to the edge of the building, then peeked around the corner, his knife raised.
Sam barely caught a glimpse of wavy brown hair and a green coat before a cloud of powder puffed into his face. Surprised, he inhaled, taking in the strong scent of herbs, maybe mint or lavender.
More concerning was the wave of vertigo and confusion that overtook him. His arms became very heavy all of a sudden, and his brain felt like it had melted into a puddle that sloshed around the inside of his skull.
“Get in the car,” he heard, echoing through the haziness, as a small hand grasped his arm.
What car? He thought. Why would I do that? And yet, he noticed his feet were already clumsily following the woman’s command, as if the directive had bypassed his brain entirely. Sam felt like he should be panicking right now, but it was very difficult when each step made his vision twist and tilt, the falling rain streaking this way and that across his vision. The guiding hand on his arm was the only constant point in his perception.
“What—” he mumbled, cutting off as he dropped into the warm, leather seat of a car. A rental, judging by the smell, his muggy brain supplied.
“Hush now, Sam,” he heard the female voice whisper soothingly. “It’s time to go to sleep.”
Sam wasn’t sure if he was sitting up or lying down, or whether he should be concerned that this woman knew his name. All he could do was drift and sink down into the inky abyss.