Author's Note: I want to give big thanks to darksupernatural who has been reading, reviewing, and helping me since the beginning of this story. Thank You! I also want give big thanks to Muffy Morrigan who has also taken the time off of her busy schedule to read and review it. Both of you guys are truly wonderful! THANK YOU!

Disclaimers: Please stop by my profile! :)

The Struggle Within

Chapter 1

"So you mind telling me what we're doing here or are you going to continue with this silent treatment of yours?" Dean huffed, stealing a glance at his brother as he watched the locals exiting and entering the many various shops downtown Portland has to offer while waiting for the light to turn green.

Sam looked up from the numerous papers about their new case, all strewn about on his lap as well as the floor, and let out a long exasperated sigh and said, "Since we don't have the colt to go after Lilith and Ruby is God knows where, not to mention that you have only a week left, I just thought a simple hunt involving a werewolf might be a nice distraction for a change."

Before Dean could come out with a smart retort, Sam finished by gently saying, "Just think of it as your last hunt, Dean." Ever since Dean gave up on the thought of becoming immortal with the help of one Doc Benton, Sam has done all he could not to throttle his brother, so instead he settled for the 'silent treatment.'

As luck would have it, the light changed, forcing Dean's focus back on the road so he wouldn't have to look at his brother. "Already giving up on me, huh?" Dean said casually. He knew as much as his brother did that they are both cutting it quite close, but he was also grateful of a distraction even though he only wished it was more of a female-type distraction instead of another hunt. But no amount of distraction could take away the fear that has been slowly gnawing in the pit of his stomach of his impending doom.

Sam flinched and fidgeted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with where this discussion was heading, deciding not to look at his brother, and instead focusing his attention on the various customers taking advantage of one clearance sale or another. "I'm not giving up on you man. Not by a long shot, but seeing as there's not much we can do right now, a hunt in which we can save people is a lot better for you and me than you meeting up with some random chick and playing doctor, and besides, I'm still working on how to get you out of your deal and possibly, hopefully kill Lilith in the process." Dean, I can helpbut Lilith….now that's a whole different ballgame.

Ever since losing their mother to a demon when Sammy was just six months old, and then losing Sam's girlfriend, Jessica, as well as their father to the same demon in which Sam had felt completely helpless in both situations, he feels that now with Dean's deal looming ever closer, failure was not going to be an option. After everything Dean has done for him from practically raising him when their father was off on hunts to teaching, nurturing and protecting him from anything and everything that is bad in the world; never asking for anything in return, Sam feels that he owes it to Dean to save him.

As Dean made a left turn to take them out of downtown Portland and into the outskirts of the city, he quickly gave Sam an irritable scowl and shook his head. Damn, how the hell did he know I was hoping for a chick? It's like the kid can just read my mind. Better keep your game face on Winchester or he can read you like an open book without using his unbelievably mind-reading Jedi crap.

Dean straightened himself in the seat and planted the infamous smirk on his face, "And exactly how do you plan on destroying Lilith 'cause last time I checked she demolished an entire building with its occupants still inside it?" They took Agent Henricksen's death quite hard, especially Dean since he felt himself bonding with the same man who did everything in his power to bring in the Winchesters.

The question hung heavily in the air, stifling any kind of comfortable silence, not even with Dean fumbling with the radio in search of a local classic rock radio station in vain hope to bring some kind of comfort, at least for the meantime while searching for a motel.

Glancing away at the road to look at his brother, Dean noticed that Sam was anxious about something and was having a guilt trip. No doubt he's worried about the deal.

"So uh," Dean cleared his throat, "so college boy, you mind telling me where the nearest motel is?" Hoping to steer the conversation down a lighter path than what they were discussing before.

Sam visibly relaxed, knowing exactly what his brother was doing, and feeling very grateful for it. Smiling, he said, "Stay on this road for about 2 ½ miles and one should be on your right."

"What would I ever do without you?" Dean asked wistfully.

"I dunno. You'd probably ask someone like Jessica Simpson for the directions and she'll lead you to her bedroom. That is, once you got her drunk enough to fall for someone like you, dude, but still sober enough to know where her bedroom is." Sam said smartly.

"Dude! The only chick you should get drunk enough to have you is that Ugly Betty chick." Dean mockingly pondered that and added, "Come to think on it, I think you should get drunk enough too just to tolerate her."

"Whatever dude." Sam laughed, not remembering a time when they laughed like this when Dean's death was hovering above both of them, mocking them of their failure on saving Dean.

Finally! Dean almost sighed in relief as he turned in the parking lot of a motel on the outskirts of Portland, the 'Vacancy' neon sign flickering on and off, unsure if it wants to give up. The only motel within a 100-mile radius it seemed (not counting the expensive motels and hotels littered across the city). As dilapidated as the motel looked, it no doubt would serve its purpose.

"Please tell me they have at least a decent room with decent cable this time," whined Dean as he got out of the car and headed to the main office to book them in for the night.

Shaking his head as he too got out of the car to stretch his legs after he gathered up all the loose paper, Sam laughed, "Hasn't anyone told you that you whine and bitch like the next girl?"

Sam laughed some more when Dean gave him the one finger salute right before he entered the office. His laughter soon died out when his attention caught on a suspicious looking black Hummer driving in the parking lot and parking in the other side of the main office out of Sam's line of sight.

To the untrained eye, the Hummer might look like any normal everyday vehicle, but to Sam, it was more than your normal typical vehicle. For starters, the tinted windows looked too tinted and especially in the growing darkness that night was bringing, the windows made it impossible to see the owners. That, and the lone fact that Sam has gotten a weird vibe coming from whoever owns that Hummer.

That's one very expensive vehicle. Sam pondered while waiting for his brother to produce the keys to their room. Just when Sam began to speculate on why the owners of the Hummer want to stay in a dump like this rather than stay at a five-star hotel suite in Portland, he looked up when Dean whistled him to get his attention.

"Hey, didn't you hear a single word I just said?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised in obvious annoyance. When he saw that he had finally gotten his baby brother's attention, he said, "I said I got the keys and it's time we can turn in for the night."

"Sorry Dean, I just got distracted." With a mischievous glint in his eye, he added, "I mean, exactly how did you ever manage to obtain and keep a girl's attention on you for a whole night, much less a minute?" Sam teased.

Sam ducked just in time when Dean snaked his hand to smack his brother across the head, but settled instead for saying the inevitable "Bitch" as the corners of his lips twitched up in mirth.

"Jerk," Sam automatically replied as he got into the passenger side while Dean got behind the wheel and drove the Impala and parked right in front of their room.

As Sam got out and went to the back to get his bag, he finally noticed that the ominous-looking Hummer was parked just a few doors down from them. He then noticed that they and whoever the Hummer belonged to appeared to be the only occupants in the entire broken-down motel.

As soon as Dean entered the motel with his bag in tow and took one quick look at the interior, he was ready to march right out of there and spend the night drinking at some local bar, and maybe hook up with some chick later on. But just as he was making his plans, he thought about why they were there in the first place and realizing that he couldn't give himself some leisure time such as drinking and sex while someone's life might be at stake. What he too realized was that Sammy didn't follow him into their room, but instead was outside, looking at a Hummer as if it was some dangerous relic, maybe something of great importance.

"Sammy, are you coming in or are you planning to stay out all night?" barked Dean. Now what has gotten Sammy so riled up? As long as Dean lives, Sam will always be known as Sammy to him, even when his brother had told him time and time again that he wanted to be called 'Sam' instead of 'Sammy'. Before he started to say something else to his brother, 'Sam' quickly shut the trunk door closed and stepped into the room.

Their motel room was as ordinary and bland as it can be coming from a dump like this. The walls were white, the ceiling was white, the bathroom was white and even the bedcovers were white. The only color that makes its presence known was the maroon carpet and the maroon sheets. Old movie posters from the 50s decorated the walls while an antique mahogany table with matching chairs and bed tables made Sam think that the owner of the establishment was either color-blind or he just likes a lot of white. Whatever the reason, Sam is sure to be sick of the color white from now on.

Apparently Dean was on the same line of thought when he grumbled, "Who in hell would want to stay in a white box? Dude, I mean honestly, he didn't seem like he was color-blind…"

Sam just let Dean's grumbling continue while he let his mind wonder back to whoever owned the Hummer as he set his bag down on the bed farthest from the door. It wasn't that he had never seen a Hummer up close before, heck he's driven one of his friends' yellow Hummer before back at Stanford, and while he loved the illusion of power and money it gave him, he had missed his brother's shiny black '67 Chevy Impala where he felt more comfortable, more in control, and more at home. No, it wasn't that. It was the fact that whoever owned that Hummer had to be rich enough to spend an entire year at one of the exclusive hotels Portland offered if they wanted to, and not at a dump like this. Considering the increase of gas prices, Dean and Sam were having enough trouble as it was just finding a decent motel with a working bathroom practically in the middle of nowhere where prices were so outrageous.

What are they doing here? Who are they? Why here of all places? Why now? Are they friend or foe? Or do I just chuck it all as paranoia? Great, wait until Dean hears about this. As Sam's thoughts kept clashing onto one another while he brought in the papers of the case and placed them on the table, he knew deep down that whoever owned that Hummer had some dangerous business to do. Why else would they have picked such a secluded place like this? For all I know they're probably Lilith's goons come to finish us off….wait a minute, demons don't need to drive a Hummer all the way to kill us, do they? Well maybe it won't hurt to find out who they are…better to be safe than sorry, right?

Sam felt a little relieved once he reached to his resolution on uncovering the truth behind the mysterious Hummer.

"Do you know you look cute whenever you scrunch your eyebrows in concentration? It's almost like watching a pit bull puppy being constipated for the first time." Dean teased.

Sam started, "Huh? What?" as he felt his face grow red realizing that he got caught lost in his own thoughts.

"I asked if you wanted to take a shower first."

"Oh, uh no. You go on ahead."

"You do realize that you're gonna have to tell me what has gotten you so wrapped up about?"

"Yeah I know, but not now okay? And don't use all the hot water this time." Sam said as he watched Dean disappear behind the bathroom door. He was also pondering telling his older brother about the Hummer, but thought better not to just in case it was nothing.

While Sam heard the water starting in the bathroom, his cell phone rang. He was in no mood to answer whoever was in the other end and had a good mind on letting whoever it was to just leave a message, but thought better of it in case it was someone important like Bobby.

Sure enough when he opened his cell phone and saw the name 'Bobby' displayed on the screen, he greeted, "Hey Bobby, is everything okay? Have you found anything yet? Where are you?"

"Whoa kid, one question at a time," replied the, deep concerned voice of their old friend Bobby Singer. Bobby had known the Winchesters since Dean and Sam were just kids and even though he never really agreed with how their father, John Winchester, raised them, he had always treated Dean and Sam as his own children which consequently granted him the name of 'Uncle Bobby', and ever since the untimely demise of John Winchester, Bobby had stepped into the role as their surrogate father.

"So how are you and Dean?" Bobby asked pointedly avoiding Sam's questions. If they knew where I'm at much less what I'm doing….no, its best they don't know anything, at least not yet.

Sam let out another exasperated sigh as he sat down on the edge of his bed, seems like I've been doing that a lot lately. "Well considering that Dean has only a week left and we are no closer to finding Lilith than we were the week before, I guess we're doing alright."

"But that's assuming Bela was telling the truth about Lilith –"

"Bobby, don't you think Bela went through a lot of trouble stealing the colt from right under our noses and giving it to Lilith to get herself out of the deal?"

"Hey, don't forget that part where Lilith ordered her to kill you."

"I haven't forgotten it, but as seeing we don't really have any other leads on getting Dean out of his deal and the only substantial lead we have which is Bela's word, then I don't see any reason why we should not think Lilith is the one that's holding Dean's contract." Sam refuted.

"Look, all I'm saying is that we should at least be careful before we go poking into some demon's lair and getting ourselves killed for nothing."

"And that's only if we knew where Lilith is hiding."

"I'm working on that –"

"How?" Sam asked suspiciously. "What are you doing Bobby? Where are you?"

"Where are you?" Bobby asked, once again avoiding Sam's questions.

"We're in Portland solving a werewolf case, why?"

"Portland, huh? Well tell me where you're staying at and I'll be there in about two days, okay?"

By the time Sam finished the call by giving the directions to the motel, Dean came out in a billow of steam already changed into his boxers and t-shirt, yawning and asking, "So who was on the phone?"

Sam barely gave Dean a glance before replying, "That was Bobby. And before you ask, he said he'll be here in about two days." Sam gathered up his stuff and rushed into the bathroom before Dean could say anything, escaping any interrogation from his brother.

Dean continued looking at the closed bathroom door to where his brother disappeared a moment longer, lost in his own thoughts. He knew that whatever was bothering his brother must not be good, but what else could he do? Beat the poor kid into submission?

Dean entertained himself with that thought as he plopped down on his bed, crossed his legs and put his left arm under his head - and turning on the tv, settled on watching a breaking news report.

"We are just outside of the Michaels' residence where police have stated a massive murder case of such has never been seen here in Portland before. According to officials, a family of five has been brutally killed by what some might say was a 'wild animal'. No word yet as to what type of animal it might be or how it got in…."

"Well, so much for the werewolf theory," Sam said, dressed in his boxers and t-shirt, a towel in one hand drying his hair, not noticing he startled Dean out of his reverie.

"What do you mean? It could still be a werewolf doing this for all we know," Dean said stubbornly, sitting up and turning off the tv.

"True, but how many werewolves do we know that don't follow the pattern?" Sam argued back, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I mean, consider this Dean, what werewolf do we know that can kill a whole family? Werewolves can either kill or infect at least one person per night on a full moon. The only problem is that there is no full moon tonight."

"Well, what about a wendigo?" Dean said indigently.

"Don't you think wendigos are hard-pressed to be roaming around a city killing families?"

"Okay so if you don't think it's a wendigo and you don't think it's a werewolf even though I think it is, then please enlighten me with your college education and tell me what you think." Dean said innocently.

Sam wasn't sure if that was a compliment or just a sarcastic remark but he went on ahead and said, "I'm not sure but whatever it is, I think we should at least do some more research before we go up against whatever we're dealing with."

The next day found the Winchesters sitting at a restaurant, eating breakfast and doing research...or more like Sam was doing the research while Dean was doing all the listening.

"Hey geek boy, have you found anything yet?" Dean knew he already asked that five minutes ago, but it didn't mean he couldn't annoy his little brother some more.

"Dean, the next time you ask that I'm going to –" Sam cut himself off short, realizing a little too late that he was falling for his big brother's bait, so instead he said with a frustrated sigh, "We pretty much know everything there is to know about the werewolf lore, but I guess we need to see the bodies of the victims killed and the crime scene."

"So you still don't think a werewolf could've done this?" Dean asked while keeping an eye on a certain blonde waitress who was doing a successful job on getting his attention.

When Dean didn't get the desired result from Sam, he gave up on the waitress to look outside at a certain black Hummer that was patiently waiting for a light to turn green, and which had gotten Sam's attention.

Sam had been wondering where the Hummer went when he didn't find it outside this morning. Wherever it's going can't be good…

"Earth to Sam," Dean said, snapping his fingers and waving his hand in front of Sam's face. When that worked, he said, "Now do you mind telling me what has gotten you so riled up?"

"Huh?"

"Dude, you have been staring at the Hummer for the past couple of minutes. Is something up?"

Sam picked at his food a moment longer while contemplating telling Dean about that damn Hummer. Well, I guess now's a good time as ever.

"Dean," he started carefully, studying his brother closely, "does that Hummer look anything at all ominous to you?"

Dean contemplated that for a second as he looked at the Hummer again. "Uh, besides the fact that you look like you haven't seen one before?"

When he saw how serious Sam was, he asked uncertainly, "Why, should it?"

"No, it shouldn't," Sam readily agreed. "But for some reason I can't shake the strange vibe I've been getting from that Hummer. And if I'm not mistaken, I think that Hummer is heading straight to the morgue to probably check out the dead victims before we do."

Dean looked at him incredulously. "Don't you think you're being a little bit paranoid?"

Before Sam could come up with a reply, Dean put up his hands and added, "Tell you what. If it'll make you feel better, why don't we go on ahead and beat them to the dead bodies?"

"So what do you want to be today? Reporters, detectives, agents, or local university students?" Sam asked as he held up the box containing numerous fake ids of everything known to mankind.

Dean contemplated that himself while he drove around the facility, hazel eyes darting everywhere for that damn black Hummer, mostly to ease Sam's nerves of course. When he was satisfied that he didn't find it, he turned to Sam and said, "Definitely agents. I've been wanting to try out the names 'Wood' and 'Taylor' for some time now."

Sam shakes his head, chuckling as he grabbed the ids. "Isn't Wood and Taylor former members of the Rolling Stones?"

"Yeah, but does it matter? Their music's awesome anyway dude." Dean said as he parked his beloved Impala and got out.

Sam quickly joined him and soon they were heading to the morgue. This morgue wasn't unlike all the other morgues the brothers had visited over the years. The cold, dead feeling it gave Sam never seemed to disappoint, making him wish to get out of there as soon as possible, but just like every other job they've done, he had to suck it up.

Dean, on the other hand, hated such places as hospitals and morgues, but throw in a pretty girl like the red-headed one that's approaching with a clipboard in her hands, and he's as happy as a kid in a candy store.

Before the red-head could say anything, Dean and Sam flashed their fake FBI badges while Dean said in a professional tone, "I'm Agent Taylor and this is my partner Agent Wood and –"

"As in the former members of the Rolling Stones?" the red-headed girl cut in putting down the clipboard on an already littered desk, clearly amused. "I'm Marissa Gibbons, the morgue assistant by the way, and I'm assuming you're here for the victims from yesterday's attack, am I right?"

Both Dean and Sam looked stumped, but then Sam quickly recovered by asking, "How did you know?"

Marissa quickly scrutinized both brothers with a steely glare, folding her arms and arching her perfectly shaped eyebrow, clearly not believing that they were agents. "Because apparently somebody else from the FBI was here this morning for the dead bodies, unless you're here to tell me that you need more of you to do the investigation," challenging them.

"Now if you really don't want me to call the proper authorities and have you two arrested, then I suggest that you turn right around and leave." The assistant continued when neither brother bothered to respond, clearly emphasizing the word 'proper'.

Dean with his eyebrows raised, glanced at his brother while seriously considering doing what Marissa suggested: tail tucked between the legs and run. Just five minutes standing in the same room with her was already making Dean feel like he's under the same roof with Missouri Mosley: they know crap when they see it. Okay Sammy, I guess your theory about the Hummer-owner might right.

Fortunately Sam came to the rescue. Putting his hands up in a gesture to calm the doctor, he said using those puppy-dog eyes of his, "Ms. Gibbons, it's just that our partners just called us to investigate, more like to cross reference everything you've told them."

She raised her eyebrows at that and kept on scrutinizing them for what seemed like an eternity before she nodded her head to a room behind her and told them to follow her, still not believing them but unsure of how to handle the situation. After all, she's just an intern with not a lot of experience, but it doesn't mean that she can't detect BS when it was right in front of her.

The room that they were led into was like any other morgue containing an unknown amount of dead bodies still waiting to be autopsied.

Sam shuddered as he thought about the time when Dean goaded him to examine a decapitated head of a vampire. No doubt Dean was thinking around the same line when he looked back at Sam and smiled knowingly, liking the fact that he was making Sam uncomfortable. Anyway, if Sam had to examine another dead corpse, he'll put his foot down and stubbornly have Dean do it instead.

As Marissa got the bodies ready to be examined by the agents, both brothers were trying hard to ready their stomachs as the unpleasant odor was taking up the oxygen around them. The brothers as well as the doctor almost gagged when she pulled the covers off to fully show what kind of condition the bodies were left after the grisly attack.

"Huh." Both brothers said in unison after one look at what was supposed to be the father…

Outside as Sam looked around him and noted that a storm looked ready to erupt sometime during the day judging by the ominous-looking clouds looming over the city, he sighed and turned to Dean, not realizing that what he was about to voice was the exact same thing his brother was thinking."Do you think whoever owned the Hummer might be the FBI agent that Marissa was referring to? And what about the bodies? What do you make of those?"

Sam didn't wait for a response before asking, "Now what do we do?"

Dean kept looking around them as they headed towards the Impala in vain hope of catching the owner of the Hummer, senses on high alert. Truth be told, the fact that someone was investigating the same case as he and Sam, rather it might be another hunter or not, was starting to make him feel a little uneasy. As far as he and Sam are concerned, they were not looking forward to meeting another Gordon Walker anytime soon.

Dean continued to marvel at how a supposedly good hunter as Gordon Walker could be so twisted into thinking that anything supernatural were considered 'evil'. Granted, Gordon might had some good reasons, but if it was involving killing Sammy, then Dean was more than willing to throw the old rule-book out and terminate anyone who would so much as raise one finger to his Sammy.

"Well," Dean said after a moment as he started the engine, "we can go to the crime scene tonight and hopefully beat whoever it is to the punch. And as for the bodies…we'll catch that sonofabitch that did it," he added coldly. "No one deserves to be slaughtered like that."

As the Impala left the parking lot, neither brother noticed the occupants of a particular black Hummer watching them like a hungry predator stalking its prey.

TBC...

A/N: If y'all like it, please leave a review! :)