Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the boys.

This is my second story about the boys. For those of you reading, it does follow my first story, Break Down. If you have not read it, all you really need to know is that Sam spent the last week or so being tormented by his visions of hell, reliving each horrifying moment. I meant to post this as I finished the last story, but this one required a bit more research. I hope you enjoy.

THE SUMMONING

CHAPTER 1

The Impala roared down the desolate highway. Sam and Dean usually had a knack for driving on the roads less traveled and this was no exception. The day was turning into evening and the moon was starting to show itself to the world.

Sam opened his eyes with a start. He had drifted off, though he hadn't intended on doing so. 'Ramblin' Man' was playing on the radio and it seemed to suite the brother's lives quite well. They spent hours, days rambling the countryside chasing various ghosts and demons, hunting them down. That was their lives as Hunters.

He gazed around, looking for a sign, a billboard, anything to indicate where they might have been. "Where are we?" He asked Dean.

Dean gave his brother a quick side glance. "I'm not sure, but I saw a sign for a Wendy's." He replied.

"Wendy's? And you're stopping there?" Sam seemed to question.

"Yeah, they have a killer bacon cheeseburger." Dean said.

"Killer, as in it will literally kill you." Sam replied sarcastically. His brother never was one for eating healthy, though it was more difficult to do so when you were always traveling.

"Whatever, I'm starving." Dean said. He took the next exit off the highway and drove about a mile to the Wendy's. He hadn't even bothered to read what town they were in, but he knew they were only a few hours from Salem, Massachusetts.

Dean went in to use the john, while Sam grabbed his laptop. Dean ordered his bacon cheeseburger while Sam settled for a Chicken Sandwich. He opened the computer and navigated to a specific site.

"So, whatcha got?" Dean asked him.

Sam scrolled down the web page. "There have been three ritualistic murders in Salem." He explained. "Three witches were killed in what look like some kind of sacrificial ritual. Of course it doesn't say they were witches, just that it's speculated they were involved with the occult."

"I still don't understand why we should be worried about someone killing witches." Dean spoke with his mouth full.

"Maybe they're just Wiccans. Wiccan's aren't necessarily witches and even if they are witches, that doesn't mean they are like any witches we've faced in the past." Sam replied.

"I guess you're right." Dean hated to admit it, but Sam did have a point. "So what kind of ritual are we talking about?"

"It doesn't say. Just that the witches were found near some sort of in a circle of candles with slits on their throats. They bled to death." Sam explained.

"Yikes." Dean replied.

As the evening carried on, things were not calm in Salem. The wind had picked up, whipping leaves through the air. The sun was long gone and the air was crisp and cool. The moon was hidden behind a wall of thick clouds, leaving the city darker than usual. A woman, younger with shoulder length locks of auburn hair, walked in the night air. She had an eery feeling, like maybe someone was watching her. Every time she turned around though, no one was in site. The street she followed was empty of anyone besides her self and a few cars that had driven by.

As she walked, she held her purse tighter and adjusted the zipper on her coat. The air was feeling colder now and that didn't settle the eery feeling she had. Something rustled behind her, but instead of checking to see what it was, she merely picked up her pace. She was breathing a bit heavier now as she hurried down the street to her apartment building. She was walking home from her shift at a restaurant down the street. She didn't usually walk to and from work, but her car had broken down the day before.

A man emerged from the shadows, standing under a street light for a mere moment. He took a few steps towards the woman, cursing under his breath when he trampled a few dry leaves under his foot. The noise nearly echoed on the empty street as he watched the woman pick up her pace. She rounded a street corner and walked out of site, so he picked up his own pace, hoping to catch up to her.

When he reached the corner and peeked around it, his face was met with a can of pepper spray. The woman didn't anticipate the man's tall height, so she had sprayed his lower face and neck. He gagged at the taste, but was glad not to have his eyes sprayed.

Before she could spray again, the man was overpowering her, forcing the pepper spray from her hand. He thrust her back against a building with a hard thud. "Let go." She cried out. His hand reached for her neck, squeezing it tightly. As she struggled for air, he pulled out a small syringe from his pocket, jabbing it into her neck. She cried out in pain, but her cries were muffled from her lack of oxygen. Her vision went hazy and she felt her body going numb.

The man loosened his grip around her neck as she slumped against him. "You are almost too beautiful to sacrifice." He said as softly as he could with his deep voice. He carried her into a nearby alley where his car was and loaded her into the backseat.

He drove across town, to an old manor that had been in his family for many generations. Over the last twenty years or so, it had been pretty neglected though. The roof over the porch looked as though it might collapse. The house foundation was uneven and a few windows were missing a shutter on either side of them. The yard was overgrown, but he didn't care.

He usually didn't bring sacrifices to his house, opting to sacrifice them in their own place of living. He had been watching her for a few days though and she had a room mate. He could not anticipate when the room mate would be home or not, so it was best to just bring the witch to his house.

He carried her to a room in the back of the house that used to be his father's study. His father had long since passed away though and after that, he had turned the room into a sort of altar room. He liked to dabble in black magic on occasion, though he knew his father would be rolling over in his grave if he found out what he had been doing.

He entered the room through a pair of dark stained glass doors and laid the woman on the old brown carpet that covered the floor. Blood stained spots on the carpet where he placed the woman near a wooden altar. A white cloth was laid on the alter that had a sigil drawn out with the blood from one of his previous victims. A bronze chalice sat in it's center and five black candles were placed around the altar forming a huge circle.

The woman was beginning to stir, her green eyes opening and taking in their surroundings. The room was dark, lit by candles and one small lamp. Red paisley wallpaper lined the walls. She tried to sit up, but the man pushed her back down, holding an athame to her throat. Her eyes filled with fear and her heart nearly stopped right then and there. Her jaw clenched as he pushed the knife into her throat. Her eyes met his and they were cold, blank, without emotion. She struggled momentarily, but with one swift move across her throat, the athame made a long cut. She choked as blood flowed from the wound. She was bleeding out.

The man grabbed the chalice from the altar and held it to her throat, catching some of the blood in it. Not too long after, the woman was dead. Her body laid limp on the carpet. The man turned away without any remorse. He cleared his mind of the terrifying look the woman last had on her beautiful face. She could have been an angel, he thought. None of his other victims had been so attractive to him. He couldn't think about that though, as she was merely his sacrifice to an evil demon he was trying to bring into the world from Hell. With her dead, he could start his usual ritual of offering a witch to the demon as a sacrifice in hopes of making it stronger and stronger so that he may be able to finally summon it into the world permanently.

Dean and Sam finally made their way into Salem, the wind beating the Impala as it pulled into the parking lot of the Shady Pine Motel. Dean stepped out from the car, a cool breeze causing him to shiver. He walked into the motel to get a room for he and Sam.

The wind continued to beat the Impala as it roared through the night sky. Sam found it to be quite annoying. He couldn't wait for Dean to come back with their room key so they could settle in for the night. They would deal with the case at hand in the morning.

Dean came back to the car with keys in hand. He parked in the closest spot to their room. It was quite a full parking lot though. The motel wasn't anything spectacular, but it was surprisingly busy. He and Sam retrieved a few things from the trunk before heading to the room.

In the night air, Sam could almost see his breath. The wind was fierce, but as he closed the trunk of the Impala, it seemed to stop suddenly, almost as if someone had commanded it. He thought it was odd, but didn't think much more about it.

Dean fumbled with his key, trying to open their motel room. Once inside, he flipped the light switch, revealing a green room complete with two double beds, a nightstand between them, and a dresser with a TV anointed on the center of it. There was a picture above each bed with various forest scenes. Dean sat his bag down near the furthest bed. "Home sweet home." Dean said sarcastically.

"Yeah." Sam replied. "I don't know about you, but I'm beat." He set his bags down in front of the other bed and sat down.

"How can you be beat? You slept for the last half of the drive" Dean shot back.

Sam sighed as he pulled his shoes off. "I think I'm still a little drained after what I went through the last week or so." He admitted.

"Look, if you need a break, if you can't deal with this right now..." Dean started to say, but Sam cut him off.

"No, I'm fine." He assured Dean. Sometimes he hated when Dean was in his overprotective big brother mode and sometimes he was grateful for it. He was not feeling grateful right now though. "I'll be fine by morning. Then, we can get to work and start investigating things."

"What ever you say Sherlock." Dean replied. He had wondered if it had been too soon for Sammy to start hunting again, but they were both eager to be free of Bobby and Castiel for a while. Sam insisted he was up for the hunt and Dean tried to trust that Sam was ok and new what he could and could not handle so soon after reliving all of his memories from Hell.

Sam hit his pillows, falling asleep almost instantly. Sleep wasn't so easy for Dean though. The wind had picked up again, rattling against the big window that went across the front of their motel room. The curtains were closed though, so he couldn't see outside. He flipped on the TV, making sure it's volume was low enough that it didn't wake his brother. He settled on some infomercial for the Sham Wow. Nothing else was on, but Dean got a kick out of watching the idiot in the infomercial rambling on and on like he was selling miracles. After a while, sleep came to him and the infomercial was forgotten.

I am currently writing chapter 2 and hope to have it up in a few days. I think I'm going to leave the man/killer a mystery for a while as well as who he plans to bring back to the world. You'll find that out in time. Comments are definitely appreciated. Thanks!