Hello, hello, hello. Here it is, the fifth and final installment of the Shadow Stalker Series.

Also, this story is a present to Bambers for her big birthday :D. Happy Birthday B.

Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belongs to Eric Kripke and CW/WB. this is all just for fun.

A DOOR IN THE DARK

Chapter 1

The motel room was dark and cold, as still and silent as the night around it. Shadows danced across the walls, shrouding the night in a heavy solitude. A stiff wind blew outside the small room, rattling the windows, like tiny fingers tapping on the cool glass. The battered curtains blew, snaking back and forth on the currents filtering through the aged glass. The furniture stood out ominously against the inky darkness of the room; the table, chairs and beds nothing more than shadows amid the black sea of night.

The heavy void was suddenly broken by a bright, blinding light. The headlamps of the Impala swung by the windows, casting an eerie glow across the empty motel room. The light remained for a few seconds before cutting out, the darkness once again taking hold, broken only by the muffled voices of the two men now approaching the room. The door burst open a second later, the room full of not only light, but laughter. Dean Winchester threw his jacket down on the bed, smiling as he made his way across the room, a barely noticeable limp slowing his strides.

"Oh come on, Sam, it was bionic strength."

"No part of you is bionic, Dean," Sam answered, closing the door behind him. "It was freaking stupid is what it was."

"Freaking stupid my ass. Winchesters one, bag guy, zero."

"Bad guy zero? So three trips into the wall doesn't count?"

"Like I said, Sammy, I'm the new Bionic Man."

"It's the Six Million Dollar man, you're thinking of the Bionic Woman."

"You're just jealous 'cause you haven't been rebuilt to be stronger than before." Dean smirked. "Besides, now I can run in slow motion." And with that, Dean did the 'Bionic Man' run into the bathroom, complete with the na-na-na-na sound effects.

Sam just shook his head, sinking down onto one of the beds when he heard the shower turn on. If he had it his way, he would have avoided the whole 'rebuilding Dean' part of the past year. But well, the past was the past, and Sam knew there was no way to go back and undo what the Asura had done to his brother. Even though his brother's knee replacement had eventually gone as planned, the entire incident was something the young hunter would rather forget. He'd nearly lost his brother, Dean facing death yet again because of something Sam had done.

Sam took a few deep breaths, pushing the growing memory from his mind. He could still picture the day as if it had just happened, his brother's lifeless body being pulled from the lake by Bobby while Sam had a showdown with his father. It was just another reminder of how screwed up everything was, and how far away from normal the Winchester family really was. But more than that, it was one of the last times he'd seen his father. To Sam's utter amazement and relief, John had done what he had asked, he'd turned his back, walked away.

Sam hadn't seen or heard from his dad since the older man had walked away from Dean's hospital room, the hunter turning his back on everything he'd been fighting for. And, for the first time, Sam wasn't angered by it. He knew his father meant well, knew he loved his family, but that same love and protectiveness was smothering, and Sam knew he and his brother needed to get away from it.

Dean, for his part, hadn't said much about it either way— he'd just done what Sam had expected, he ignored any and all emotion he should have felt. Sam had expected Dean to be upset, pissed that he'd thrown John out of their lives, but instead, Dean just shrugged it off, jumping head first into a hunt as soon as he was able to. And very little had changed in the months between now and then. It was like falling into the rut all over again— hunt, sleep, eat, repeat.

For the first time, though, Sam didn't mind it. He welcomed the monotony, welcomed the routine. He welcomed it all, because it meant he had his brother back, and that was a reality Sam wasn't sure he'd ever get to see again. So much had happened since Shadow Pine Highway, so much had changed, but now it was like coming full circle, and Sam could feel a weight lift from his shoulders. Their father was out who knew where again, and he and Dean were out on the open road— it was as normal a life as Sam knew he could ever ask for, and for the first time in a long time, he could say he was happy.

Yes, he still wished for a life with Jessica, prayed everyday to be the normal family with the white picket fence, to go to bed without a weapon beneath the pillow. But the past year had opened his eyes to what his life really was, and what he was in danger of losing. It wasn't a glamorous life, wasn't the type of life you'd read about, but for Sam Winchester it was as close to perfect as he knew he'd ever get.

Sam cracked his neck, a dull headache growing behind his eyes. They'd been happening a lot lately, well, a lot compared to the normal amount of migraines he suffered. There was something different about these headaches, though, and that made Sam weary. When they'd first started he thought they were visions, and a part of him had been relieved— as much as he hated the death visions he was forced to witness, any small reprieve, even if it was in the form of a not so killer headache was welcome. But now, just like then, the visions never came.

Sam smiled, shaking his head. He really was getting paranoid. Hell, most of the world had headaches for one reason or another, why did his always have to be supernatural. "Probably Dean related," Sam mumbled, his brother shouting out some bad hair band song from the bathroom.

Sam moved to the table, unwrapping the food they'd bought. He was starving, the last hunt, while nothing really all that backbreaking, had required them to sit out and wait for the better part of ten hours, and it wasn't really wise to take a coffee break during a hunt. Sam grabbed a handful of fries, shoving them in his mouth as he made for the fridge, pulling out a few beers. He smiled when he felt the headache ebb away, it must have been hunger related.

"Dude," Sam began when Dean finally emerged from the bathroom, "Long enough shower?"

"I wanted to make sure I used every ounce of hot water." Dean smirked, toweling off his hair, his tee-shirt and jeans still wet from the mist in the bathroom.

"Yeah well, any longer and I was gonna eat without you."

"You should have, I'm not all that hungry."

Sam's heart sank a little, his headache returning when, instead of going for the food, Dean grabbed the laptop and beer. Dean may have thought he was being subtle, but Sam could read him better than anyone. The older man hadn't eaten much since John left, hell, even before that. It was just another sign of the trouble the middle Winchester was going through. Dean acted like everything was ok, even better than it had been before Marshal Williamson, but Sam knew it wasn't true. Dean was hurting.

"How can you not be hungry?"

"It is physically possible, Sam."

"Whatever." Sam shook his head, shoving another handful of fries in his mouth. Dean may not have been hungry, but Sam felt like a man starving. "I just cleaned that up, too."

"Cleaned what up?"

"The laptop. So no downloading anything."

"Wow, what a vote of confidence. Did it ever occur to you that I'm researching?"

"No."

"Well I am."

"Researching what?"

"Hunts."

"Uh huh. Hunts that involve naked women?"

"Aw, my little brother's growing up. But no, hunts that involve bad guys."

"Dean," Sam began, his headache growing. Sam was afraid his brother would want to jump right back into a hunt. After all, that's all Dean had been doing. He barely ate, barely slept, all he did was hunt, and when he wasn't actively hunting, he was researching— an act that made Sam 'christo' his brother several times. After all, Dean doing research was a sure sign of the apocalypse.

"What, Sam?"

"I was thinking we could take a break."

"I've taken enough breaks."

"Oh yeah, 'cause multiple near death experiences count as vacations."

"It is what it is, Sam."

"Are you trying to run yourself into the ground?"

"Sam, I feel better than I have in a long time. Just let me hunt while I can."

"What's the supposed to mean?"

"My knee's not gonna last forever, Sam. Hell, the doctor told me ten years with all the activity I do."

"So?"

"So, I can tell you now, Sam, there's not gonna be some magical benefactor doling out money every time I need a new knee."

"Is that what this is all about?"

"Look, dad left, we both know why."

"He left because I told him to."

"Yeah right, and when has he ever listened to you?"

"Maybe he just came to his senses."

"What senses?"

"Look, Dean. A lot happened that day," Sam began, his dinner instantly forgotten. He hadn't told Dean about that day on the beach, not entirely. He'd told him of Marshal's death, of his near death, but never the whole story— and Sam was hoping he would never have to. But hindsight is twenty/ twenty, and Sam should have known Dean would have blamed himself.

"So you keep saying."

"So what hunt are you looking into?" Sam knew he was avoiding the truth, that Dean needed to know what his younger brother had done, but Sam just couldn't bring himself to tell the story, not yet. He was afraid of what he'd become, afraid of the power inside him, and he didn't want to see that same fear reflected in Dean's eyes. Sam needed Dean on his side, needed his big brother, and he didn't want anything to take that way from him.

Sam caught the slightest hint of something flash through his brother's eyes before Dean could hide it, the older man retreating back behind his well built walls. They were on the verge of crashing again, but for the life of him, Sam couldn't find a way to stop it.

"Something Bobby sent me. I don't really know what's going on."

"What's he say about it?"

"Same as me, weird crap, no real reason behind it."

"What's going on?"

"This town, New Eden, Mass is like a tourist's nightmare. Every year, a bunch disappear."

"So."

"Yeah, that's what I said. Here's the kicker, though. Some woman's daughter moved up there when she first got married, had kids, the whole deal. Well, apparently, she stopped speaking to her mother. The woman was worried and after a few years of fewer and fewer phone calls, she decided to make a surprise visit. And swears to anyone that'll listen that she saw her granddaughter."

"Again, so?"

"So, said granddaughter died a few years before that."

"This might not be anything supernatural, Dean. It could just be missing tourists and a family with issues."

"Yeah, but I told Bobby we'd check it out. I mean, we've looked into less."

"Alright."

Sam turned back to his dinner, though his hunger was completely gone. He knew what Bobby was trying to do, he'd spoken with the hunter countless times about it already. As much as Sam admired and appreciated Bobby, the seasoned hunter had been driving him crazy ever since Marshal Williamson. He'd been trying to get John back into their lives, trying to bring the small and shattered family back together, and Sam had repeatedly asked him to stop. Sam knew Bobby had good intentions, knew the older man had lost to the hunting world, but that didn't mean the rift between John, Sam and Dean could be fixed with a few hunts.

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The brothers settled into another silent night, the pair both drifting off to sleep with the tv on, their minds miles away from the small motel they were currently calling home. The Iblis looked on from the window, the shadowy demon studying the brothers, feeling their pain, and feeding their minds. It had lost to them once already, had been beaten, and it was certain that would never happen again.

It still couldn't believe it had lost to mere humans, had succumb to hunters. It was like a cat losing to a mouse— it was the type of thing that should never happen. Yes, they were the Winchesters, but that was just a name, it didn't make them anything more or less than human. Well, it didn't make John or Dean any less human; Sam, now he was a different story. The Iblis knew about Sam, knew the boy was different, and the day on the beach only solidified the truth. He was more than human, more than just another soldier. He was something that needed to be won, and if not, then he needed to be stopped.