The Story of Sammi

Trapped (Part 2)

So there I was, hands, feet, and mouth bound with duct tape, and I was lying on a cold concrete floor staring at an old butterfly knife. Knowing my only chance of getting Sam and Dean's attention was to free myself and make some noise, I rolled back over the knife until I could feel it under my fingers. Luckily I didn't have to attempt to open it (it was lying open on the ground...what are the odds?), but instead took the blade and maneuvered it between my wrists and the tape. I carefully slid the knife up and down until I felt the duct tape snap. Yes!! Now that my hands were free, I ripped the tape from my mouth and legs. I got up and ran to the shed door and started banging from the inside, shouting, "Someone help me!!!" I heard Dean say, "Sammi?? Is that you??" "Dean!!" I screamed. "Help!!" "Where are you, princess?" he shouted from inside the house. "I'm trapped!" I yelled back. "Outside, in the backyard. Please hurry!!" I heard the back door swing open and then Dean said, "Talk to me, Sammi. I'm here." Instead of talking, I banged on the door of the shed as hard as I could. Feeling weak, I fell to the floor again. The door started moving, so I knew Dean had found me, but the lock was preventing him from getting to me. "Back away from the door, Sammi," he said. "I'm going to kick it in." I wasn't sure what kinds of valuables poppy had hidden in the shed, but being as he had so many locks stored away, I knew I couldn't let Dean bust the doors down. "No!" I managed to scream. "Even though my poppy is no longer with us, he left this stuff in here for a reason. We have to find another way to open the doors." "Do you know the combination to this lock, by any chance?" Dean asked. "Is it a regular combination lock?" I asked back. "Like one you would see on a gym locker or something?" "No," he replied. "It's one of the old fashioned ones, like you would see on briefcases in the movies." I sat back and thought for a moment. With a lock like Dean was describing, someone could make up their own combination. Now I had to figure out what numbers poppy could have used. Great. "Give me time," I told him. "There are so many number combinations my poppy could have chosen. By the way, where is Sam?" "He drove down to the police station to report the break in," Dean said. "He couldn't just call?" I asked. "He took pictures," Dean told me. "He figured it would help just in case the cops didn't believe him." "So he left without knowing where I was?" I was a little upset. "Not without a fight," Dean reassured me. "He wanted to stay. I made him go." Alright. That made me feel better. "Now I need you to focus, princess," Dean said. "Are there any numbers that might have been special to your grandfather?" Think, Sammi, think. Birthdays, anniversaries...Nana and Poppy's wedding date! "Try 6640," I suggested. I heard the clicking of the dials as Dean turned them, but didn't here the lock snap open. "No good," Dean said. "I honestly figured that one would work," I told him. "What could have been more important to poppy than his wedding day?" "The birth of his only child?" Dean suggested. "Maybe," I agreed. "Try 8460." Once again I listened as I heard Dean turning the dials on the lock, and once again no luck. "Maybe I can just shoot the lock off," Dean said. "No," I said. "Let me give it another shot." I thought long and hard about what other dates might have been important to my grandfather. Mom and dad's wedding date? No, that couldn't be it. Scarlett's birthday? Definitely not. Oh dear lord! Could it have been that simple this whole time? "0424," I said, keeping my fingers crossed. The dials turned once more and then...CLICK! The door flung open and Dean picked me up off the floor. "I can't believe that last one worked," he said. "That was genius." "I can't believe it either," I said. "Apparently my birth meant more to him than his own wedding day." Dean smiled for a brief moment, then he became really serious. "Did they hurt you?" he asked, looking me over. "I may have a concussion," I admitted, pointing to the side of my head. Dean examined the area where I was hit and said, "You do have something there. What the hell did they hit you with?" "It was one guy and he hit me with his gun," I told him. "Was this a random break-in?" Dean asked. "No," I replied. "The kid said someone stole a diamond from his family years ago and his father traced it back to my grandfather. I tried to reason with him, said he had to be mistaken. I even offered to let him go and never speak of the incident, but obviously that didn't work." "Well I hope he found what he was looking for," Dean said. "He left the house in complete chaos. It doesn't look like anything of value to you was taken, though." I gave him a faint smile, but I still felt very weak, and now I had a headache. Dean picked up on my mood and said, "Let's get you inside and comfortable until Sam gets back. You look like you're about to be sick." No sooner had he said that when I turned my head toward the grass and threw up. Oh shit! "Dean," I said when I had finished. "I felt a little sick before, but not like I wanted to vomit. I think maybe I do have a concussion." He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped my mouth. "You're going to be alright, princess," he assured me. "We just need to keep you awake for a few hours and one of us will monitor you through the night." "You two have dealt with this before?" I asked. "Among other ailments, yes," he admitted. He carried me into the house and settled me onto the couch. "Look at this mess," I said. "Don't you worry about that," Dean said. "Sam and I will handle the clean up. You just relax. Do you want something to drink?" "I'll take a glass of ice water," I said. "Thank you." Dean walked into the kitchen just as I heard the front door open and close. "Sammi! Sweetheart!!" Sam said as he ran over to where I was sitting. He hugged me tight and then kissed my forehead. "I'm so glad that you're alright. Dean and I were so scared that you might have been kidnapped again." "Not quite," I told him. "I was bound and gagged and locked in the shed in the backyard. I'll give you the full story later, though." He smiled and then I noticed he was staring at the side of my head. Before I could tell him about my concussion, Dean walked back in, handed me my water, and said, "She got knocked in the head by a gun. She has a mild concussion, but she'll be alright. One of us is going to have to keep an eye on her tonight." Sam wrapped his arms around me and said, "Leave that part to me. You go upstairs and get some rest. We have a lot of cleaning to do in the morning."