This is the third story in the Hope series, for Supernatural...

The first was "Hymn to the Missing", which was followed by "God's Gift of Hope"

You probably should read them before reading this - as they set the scene... but if not - then I'm sure you'll catch on...

Please comment and let me know if you like it... also follow it - if you want alerts so you can read along as I post the rest of it over the summer (an Australian summer - that's winter to you northern hemisphereans)

Enjoy... I hope...

Then…

The stolen 1971 Imperial LeBaron nearly spun out, as it sped down the highway, fishtailing around a tight bend and almost smashing into a smaller car, which was travelling in the opposite direction. The nineteen-year-old, sitting behind the wheel, cursed lightly as he almost lost control, but he was too scared to worry about the people in the other car.

The car continued barrelling down the highway until the next bend, where it passed a black Impala that was sitting on the side of the road. The boy pulled hard on the steering wheel, taking the LeBaron into a very tight one-eighty turn; the tyres and brakes screamed under the strain of the speeding chunk of metal, stopping and turning on a dime. Small rocks and dust flew through the air, pelting the neighbouring bushland, as the car pulled to a stop on the shoulder of the road; the LeBaron was now about twenty feet from the Impala, in a face off.

Before the LeBaron had pulled to a complete stop, the passenger side door flung open, and a smaller, younger boy leapt out and started sprinting back towards the Impala.

This boy circled the car, looking in through each of the windows in turn, as he came full circle he yelled at the other boy, "Nothing… He's not here!"

The other boy, at hearing the cry, turned quickly to the bushland that came up to the shoulder of the road, and started beating at it with his hands; the boy was looking for something, as he pushed, swiped and shoved at the low hanging branches.

"Here!" he yelled back at the other boy, who was doing something similar a few feet from the Impala, "The path is here…" With those last few words, the boy started running down the path, followed closely by the younger boy.

The two boys ran as if their lives depended on it. They were fast and nimble as they stole their way down that path. They placed their feet surely, like seasoned cross-country runners, easily missing the gnarled roots that spouted out of the ground, from the older trees that littered the length of the path. Their arms pumped in time with their heavy breathing. Small patches of sweat broke out on their brows, as the continued to pace their way down the overgrown path.

About half a mile down the path, the area opened up into a small overgrown yard that wrapped around an old house that looked in serious need of repair. The older boy called out, through heavy breathes, "Stay behind me Sammy!" as he scaled the four steps that lead up to the porch.

Here the older boy paused, as he drew a gun from the small of his back. The younger boy's eyes went wide at the sight of the revolver, but he quietly fell in behind his brother. Quietly the boy turned the handle of the door and slowly pushed it into the room. The door let out a soft sigh, signalling anyone, who was close enough to hear, that visitors had arrived.

The older boy cleared the front room with his gun, checking for danger with every turn; he was hyperaware of his younger brother, trying to ensure that he was safe at all times. The pair moved quickly, but ever so quietly, towards the centre of the house where the kitchen sat, tucked away from prying eyes.

Near the door to the pantry, stood another door, slightly wider, higher and much heavier. Eight door latches lined the side of the door and all of them lay open and unlocked. The door itself stood slightly ajar; the light from the kitchen window spilt through the small crack, between the open door and wall, and showered the top two steps in a pool of light. The stairs led down into a darkness; a darkness that whispered to the boys, 'enter, at your peril'.

The door opened back into the kitchen silently, as the younger boy pulled gently on its handle. The older boy led the way into the small space at the top of the stairs, where he paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Taking a very slow and deep breath, he eventually started down the stairs, gun ready, followed closely by his brother.

The boys moved very slowly down the stairs, not wanting to make a sound that may alert anyone to their presence. At the bottom of the staircase, the room seemed to brighten before them, as light from the outside tried to push its way through the grime-covered basement window. The boys turned to their left, entering the far side of the room; a sheet that hung over a trail of rope blocked their view. The rope hung across the length of the room, from the wall to the rail of the stairs.

The older boy approached the sheet and using the gun, he pushed on it, so that he could see beyond. As the scene revealed before him, he took in a quick breath trying desperately to conceal the panic that was fighting to take control of his body.

A man hung from the rafters; a thick rope held the man's arms above his head, while his bare feet barely touched the ground below. The man had no shirt on, and a trail of blood snaked its way down the man's bare chest, as it fell from a deep cut on his throat. A man like figure, covered in tattoos, stood beside the hanging man and he appeared to be drinking the blood of his semi-conscious victim.

The boy raised his gun to shoot, but realised, just as quickly, that at this distance and with how close the hanging man was to 'the thing', he was just as likely to harm the man as he was the creature that had taken him hostage.

Instead, the boy made the quick decision to run at the creature. He took off quickly before the creature had time to realise that there was somebody else in the room. The boy hit the creature square in the side and with some force; he drove him away from the hanging man as he attempted to tackle him to the ground. The creature, however, was too strong for the boy and he merely swung his arm around and caught the boy on the chin. The force of the blow lifted him into the air and he flew backwards, smashing into the far wall of the basement.

The creature started to walk over towards where the boy lay at the bottom of the wall, most likely to finish him off. The younger boy, scared by all that was happening, decided that he had to take action to save his brother. He bolted at the creature, barrelling into its back and knocking him off balance. The older boy saw what was happening and jumped up, running at the creature to take advantage of its weakened position.

The creature fell to the ground with a grunt, as the older boy smacked into his front; seeing the creature fall, he spun around looking for the revolver that he had dropped during the first run at the creature. He eyed the gun; it was not far from the other boy, "Sammy…" he yelled at his brother, "the gun… get the gun…"

Sam made a grab for the gun, just as the creature was getting to its feet. Unfortunately, for Sam, the creature stood up and was standing directly in front of him. Sam thought quickly and realised that he would not make it to the gun before the creature got to him, taking a chance, he kicked the gun towards his brother. The creature lunged forward making to attack him, as the gun slid along the ground into his brothers waiting hand.

Just as the creature reached Sam, the gun rang out, the noise sharp and clear in the small basement. The creature screamed as the bullet slammed into its back, just missing the spine. It stopped, mid-attack, and turned, its eyes were wild with pain and anger. For a split second, it looked like the creature was trying to decide whether it wanted to go after the older boy or whether it would take off; then the creature spun and ran for the stairs.

"Sammy, get dad!" the older boy yelled at his brother as he ran for the stairs in pursuit of the creature that had taken his dad. "Dean…" the younger boy yelled after his brother; whether he was yelling to his brother to tell him that he would take care of their dad, or yelling at him to stop and stay here, was unclear. Either way, Dean ignored him, taking the stairs two at a time.

Sam made his way over to his dad. He pulled a pocketknife out and, trying to support the weight of his father, he started to hack into the rope that held him up. While he was cutting, his father floated in and out of consciousness, moaning in pain each time his body swayed with the movement of the rope.

Eventually, the rope broke, giving way where it was frayed from Sam's efforts and the weight of the man pulling on it. The man fell to the ground, taking Sam down with him. Sam was quick to recover and he carefully took off his jacket and rolled it up to put under his father's head. Just as he was about to get up to look around the room for some water, to clean up his father's wounds, his father came too and grabbed hold of his arm.

Sam winced in pain, as his father's vice-like grip nearly pulled his arm off. "Sammy…" his father wheezed, "We have to find hope…" Sam was confused by his father's statement. He tried unsuccessfully to calm his father and wrench his arm back so that he could help him. John Winchester just grew more and more agitated, crying to his son that they must find hope. "Remember hope, Sammy. Don't let me forget. Don't let me forget…"

John's eyes were wild with panic, as he fought to hold on to the memory of the Djinn's reality-altering hallucinations that he had been so firmly entrenched in only moments before… Moments before John was rudely dragged back to the dark and frightening reality. A reality where he had been forced to forget his only daughter, his son's twin. A reality where he didn't know he had a daughter, where he hadn't been reunited with her.

The Djinn that had caught John Winchester had looked deep into his mind, only to find that two people whom John didn't seem to know, but who had come to help him, had altered his mind once before. Working with what he had been able to find out; these two people had made John forget that he had a daughter. The Djinn spun his special magic to have John remember that his daughter had come looking for him when she had turned eighteen. The pair, united, at last, had lived a very happy existence with John's other two children, Dean and Sam.

When John was dragged unwillingly from this alternate reality, back to the dingy basement floor he wanted more than anything to return to the quiet unassuming life he had finally been able to make with his children. Realising that this would never happen, he needed the next best thing; John Winchester needed to remember what had happened in an alternate reality and as such, he begged his son, Sam, to remind him about it when he came too. Just before he passed out, John asked one more time, "Sammy, remember hope. Don't let me lose hope." Sam just stared at his father.

Now

Sam looked down at his sister lying on the floor in front of Dean. Blood had flowed out from her wound, making wing like patterns around her upper body. All he could think was, 'Hope was lost… Hope was lost.'

Sam fell to his knees, remembering, then he whispered, "Oh my god, Hope, I forgot… I'm so sorry… I forgot…"

more to come - stay tuned... and please feel free to leave comments - the more the better