Hey, this is the sequel to Worth Killing For, it isn't imperative to read WKS to know what is going on in this story, just the character of Mike Hanson Sam's lawyer, and why he was in Riker's. So, if you haven't read the other one I am going to put one little part in there so you know what is going on, what deal Sammy made, and what is up with Dean in this chapter.

I hope you all like it!!!

Chapter 1--No where to go but to hell

The man laughed a low sinister laugh, it gave Sam goose bumps "It's not money that I am collecting Sam, it's something much more valuable." Sam stiffened-up; now he knew who this man was. "Now, you remember our deal."

Sam's face went pale "I think we should go over the terms of your end of the deal. Shall we?" He said with a wider grin.

Holding Dean tightly he spoke calmly, soothing him, and very lovingly he put his hand around Dean's waist, there was no way out for him.

"Stop fighting Dean, it's not going to kill you. It's just a sedative. Please just stop fighting, stay here, find a wife, have two point three kids, and forget about me. I'm lost."

In the darkness he felt his fingers move slightly, coming back to life, back to consciousness. Moments later he felt his eyes open, slowly, blurred. The world didn't make sense, his body wasn't his, not at that moment, it belonged to the drugs. They held onto him with fierceness, not allowing him full awareness, not allowing him to control his body. Slowly its grip loosened. He blinked, moved his head, and moaned softly, his pain echoing in the empty room.

Now he could see the other bed, now he could move his arms, and feel the pain in his head. He moved his arm to get-up and failed miserably, plopping back onto the bed.

Why the hell can't I move…oh right…OH GOD!

"Oh God!" His voice a whisper, he moaned again.

Son of bitch!

He moved his arm to sit-up again. Success!! The room moved; it blurred, and teetered. He became dizzy and fell to the floor, hitting his knee smartly on the hard wood flooring. He grunted, and gritted his teeth; his breathing increased….Damn you get-up!

He tried again, the dark room spun; he couldn't make it stop. He reached for the light, knocking it over. He fumbled as he switched the light on; wincing and hissing loudly. He looked around, quickly; the room was empty. He crawled to his bed, using it to get himself up.

"Sam? Sammy, you here?" He shouted, wincing at the volume of his own voice.

"Sammy…? Please…please tell me you didn't go…?" He raked a heavy hand over his face and, taking a few slow steps, he searched the room.

He found Sam's coat, and shoes, and further on he found his cell. "Shit…how the hell am I suppose to track him?" He threw the cell hard onto the floor.

Dean sat down and gently placed his head into his hands, rubbing them softly on his temples and forehead, hoping to take away the drug's powers. He got-up and went to the washroom, splashed water onto his face, knowing full well it would do nothing to ease his nausea or his bouts of dizziness, but needing to try everything. He quickly moved towards the toilet and threw-up. His stomach was in agony as the retching went on and the drugs continued to create chaos in his system. He sat on the floor for a moment. That felt like an hour, leaning his head against the cool of the porcelain tub. Wiping the tears from his eyes uneasily, he got-up and left the washroom.

He dragged his feet as he walked through the apartment, limping a little until he found his brother's duffel bag. Rummaging through it, he found the same things he found a few weeks ago. Nothing new there, so he limped over to Sam's coat…he found Sam's wallet with all his fake credit cards and IDs. He looked on Sam's bed, hoping that maybe he left a note…nothing. Dean could feel the anger boiling inside of him and he threw the bed pillow, then the lamp…he heard the crash, saw it break into a few pieces, but the light bulb didn't break.

"SON OF A BITCH…how could you…?" He stopped himself, who the hell was he talking to?

He looked around the apartment some more, he stuck with Sam when he was in prison, and he bails on him. Then he remembered that Sam had said something just before Dean passed out. Dean thought for a minute…then he remembered.

"Please just stop fighting, stay here, find a wife, have two point three kids, and forget about me. I'm lost."

"I'm lost…" What does he mean by that? Something must have happened, but what? There must be someone Sam confided in.

Dean sat with his head resting on his steering wheel. The drug was still making him sick, but he had to get-up, Sam could be anywhere. It had been a day since Sam went AWOL. That was one hell of a sedative he'd given him. With his head still leaning on the wheel, he reached over and opened the door. Groaning softly, he pulled himself out of the car. The drugs made his body feel like it weighed a ton.

He slowly walked into the building from the parking garage, his mind still reeling over what had happened. He shook his head as he entered the elevator, but immediately realized his mistake. There was a very attractive brunette beside him, secretly hoping he would notice her, but he just kept his eyes fixed on the digital number above him counting down the floors. They finally reached the basement; he walked through the hallway, glancing at the names on the door, the last door on the left Mike Hanson. He knocked lightly on the door and waited until he was invited in.

"We have a big problem," he began, sitting down and rubbing his knee absently. "Sam disappeared I have no idea where he is or why he left."

Mike sat there a bit dumbfounded, "What do you mean he disappeared?"

"I mean he's disappeared. We got home yesterday, about four thirty in the afternoon, he went into the bathroom, and when he came out he drugged me!"

"What?" This was a heavy load and Mike hadn't had his morning coffee yet.

"Yeah, he drugged me. He came-up from behind and put a needle in my neck, he said it was a sedative." He pulled on his collar to reveal the small bruise and puncture wound left by the needle.

Mike leaned over and examined the area; it was small but nasty. He shook his head.

"This is a parole violation…Sam can go back to prison for this. What the hell is wrong with your brother?" He asked, exasperated.

"If I knew, I wouldn't have to come to you; I would have talked to him myself…"

"Does he feel like he can talk to you…has he kept secrets from you before?"

"Yeah he has," Dean said quietly. He leaned forward and hung his head, still feeling nauseous.

"But, he knows he can come to me. I need to know…did he say anything that could help me…did he leave anything, like a piece of jewelry, a note…um, anything in an event, like him disappearing or…"

Dean took a deep breath and looked at Mike…he didn't want to say the next part, "In the event of his death." Oh God! Please don't let him be dead!

"No, the last time I saw him, we went over the conditions of his parole. He was okay with all the conditions…he seemed fine…he wasn't upset or anything," he said with his eyebrows scrunched. Mike was just as confused about Sam's behavior as Dean was.

"Alright, if anything comes to you, call me." Dean stood-up to leave.

"Wait, we need to report your brother."

"What? No way…I am not going to those corrupt bastards and telling them Sam skipped on his parole!" He said angrily.

"We have to, Dean. If we don't, then they will suspect you or me, or both of us of helping Sam. That means jail time for a crime neither one of us committed. Besides, maybe there was foul play, maybe he got into trouble in prison; we can't take a chance." He studied Dean for a moment.

The younger man was quiet for a moment then nodded his head. Damn Sam, Dean was now doing everything legally. He missed the days when he didn't give a rat's ass whether or not it was legit.

"Fine, I'll go to the pigs, then I'm going to call some friends of ours…maybe they've heard something."

"What about your dad?" Mike knew the relationship between Sam and John was shaky, but Sam may have gone to his father.

Dean laughed inwardly. Get in touch with his father? That will be easy…it might actually be easier tracking Sam down than getting his father on the phone.

"Yeah, I'll try my best."

"Oh god!" The deputy said under his breath as he stood-up "What the hell do you want Winchester?" He sighed audibly as he ran a hand through his hair.

Dean wasn't in the mood; he wanted to punch this bastard. "Listen, my brother…"

"What did he do now? Oh, let me guess, he went to a hooker, she said no and he decided to waste her. It's okay, we already have his cell ready; it's reserved for him." He said with a smirk.

Dean gave the deputy a smirk, "Hey how's the ex-Sheriff? Oh, that's right he got a poker through his neck. And, oh yeah, he was corrupt…" You stupid son of a bitch! Dean's smirk changed to a genuine smile as the deputy frowned.

"Yeah, but your brother still hasn't been proven innocent…"

"Or guilty," Dean spat out.

They glared at each other for a moment. Dean finally broke the silence.

"I want to talk to the new Sheriff, someone who doesn't have it in for my brother." He growled at the officer, who turned around to go speak to the Sheriff.

After ten minutes he was sitting in the new Sheriff's office. She was an African-American woman, who at five two, a hundred and ten pounds, looked too young to be a Sheriff. But Dean didn't care…he needed some help and she was unbiased.

"Mr. Winchester, it's nice to meet the man who brought down half of the town law enforcement." She said wearily, not knowing what to expect from him.

"Yeah, well, what can I say, I'm damn good at getting the bad guys." He said arrogantly.

She raised an eyebrow; he was arrogant, as she expected and handsome. "So, how can I help you?"

"Well, you know about my brother." She nodded. He swallowed, a little nervous about this new Sheriff. "He got out yesterday, and he was on parole, and um…he's gone."

"What…? He's gone? You mean he committed a parole violation." She knitted her eyebrows together.

"Yeah, I don't know where he is…all his stuff is still in my apartment…I don't know where he is." He blinked away the tears as his voice cracked.

"He drugged me," Dean choked out. He looked at the sheriff to try and get a reading, wondering what she was thinking.

"Alright, I'll get someone to take your statement. We also need you to take a drug test, just to verify your story, and we will put an APB out on your brother." She said sympathetically.

"An APB, we don't have to do that, do we? I mean, he's not dangerous," Dean was starting to sound desperate.

"Mr. Winchester…"

"Just call me Dean," he rubbed his tired eyes.

"Alright, Dean, your brother was charged with murder and rape…"

"He didn't do it!" Dean snapped.

"Technically, he was only let-out because the old Sheriff was corrupt; he wasn't actually found innocent or granted Clemency. Also, he's on parole for assault, he could be a danger."

Dean was about to protest, but she raised her hand and stopped him.

"I know, he's your brother, and you don't want to believe the worst in him. I have a brother too, I never believed he was as bad as everyone said he was…but he was."

"I know my brother. I raised him, took care of him, protected him…no one knows him like I do. So, don't tell me I don't know him." He wasn't angry at her. She seemed to be sympathetic to him and he spoke to her with the same respect she spoke to him.

She nodded, accepting that he would never believe the worst in his brother. "I still have to put an APB out on him."

"Alright." He grumbled, shoulders slumping in defeat.

After giving his statement to the police, Dean went back to his apartment and started his own investigation. He called most of the contacts on his list…no one had seen or heard from Sam.

"Hey, Bobby…Yeah I'm fine, no, I'm not fine. Listen, you heard about Sam, and um…I, I don't know where he is."

"Oh shit! Your dad's going to be pissed." Bobby responded gruffly.

"I know…have you heard anything from Sam, did he say anything to you? I'm going crazy here. I have no idea why he left, I know he's in trouble…and, um…I think the demon has him…or he has been threatening him or something. I just know it has something to do with that bastard."

"Are you sure?" Bobby knew they had their troubles with that bastard, but he had to make sure Dean wasn't jumping to conclusions.

"Sam asked me for an exorcism. He did it, but I think that bastard must've done something. Sam was…I don't know." He said as he hung his head low, his voice baring his desperation.

"No, I didn't hear anything from your brother. I'll call your dad and let other hunters know; maybe someone heard something or saw him. Don't give-up, we'll find him, Dean."

Dean gave a huge sigh of relief. All of a sudden, he felt he really would find his brother.

A few hours earlier.

Sam woke with a start as bright light was beaming into his eyes. He groaned, and sat up.

"Sir, is everything alright?" The officer inquired.

Sam knew he wasn't supposed to, but he got out of his car and blinked, the officer's flashlight shown strongly in his eyes.

"Yeah, why?" Sam put his hand over his eyes, the exhaustion showing in his voice.

"License and registration, please, sir."

Sam opened the front door, reached in for his license and registration and handed it to the officer. He took them and, shining his light downward, studied the documents. Sam was relieved the light wasn't on him anymore.

"Sam Ryan. Sam, what are you doing out here."

"Sleeping."

"Sir, that's dangerous, someone could lose control of their vehicle and hit you. There's a motel about two miles from here; why don't you check-in for the night.

"I only have fifty bucks, it's for gas and food." He said, the exhaustion overwhelming him. He lost his balance, and the officer eyed him suspiciously.

"Sir, have you been drinking or doing drugs?"

"What? No, I'm just tired. Listen, I'll get going; it's not far where I'm going, so…I'll be fine." He winced as the light went back onto his eyes.

"Sir, I need you to do some tests for me."

"What for?" Sam asked angrily.

"I can't have you going when I suspect you are intoxicated."

"But, I told you I'm just tired."

"Sir, please put your arms out to your side and bring your hand in to touch your nose with your finger, eyes…" Sam had had enough of the stupid cop and his damn light. He punched him square in the face.

The officer fell backwards; Sam charged him and landed another punch, the flashlight falling not too far from him. Sam picked it up, tossed it into the air and caught it with the light facing him. He raised the flashlight high up and started pounding the cop with it. He could feel his breathing increasing, his heart pounding; he started to smile. He was enjoying making this man suffer; he hit the man over and over again.

He beat the officer into unconsciousness, then he stopped. He looked at the man lying on the ground and the pool of blood that was forming. He looked down at his hands; they had blood on them, they where shaking. He dropped the flashlight; what the hell was wrong with him? How could he enjoy hurting someone like that?

There was something wrong with him, he knew it. He felt guilty, but deep down inside of himself, a small part of him didn't. He liked it, just like he liked drugging Dean, but now it had become louder. He took more pleasure; he didn't care for this person in front of him, and in a way he didn't care about Dean, either.

Luke Sullivan! That bastard had done something to him…he knew it. He wasn't Sam Winchester anymore…he was someone, something else. He turned around and got into his car and drove off.

So, plz R&R, greatly appreciated.