Author's Note: Greetings! I just wanted to take a minute and say thanks for your interest! I made a few tweaks to my original posting when I realized it wouldn't make sense where I had it. I'm afraid I'm quite new at this so I hope that if any of you have suggestions you'll take the time to inform me. Constructive criticism can go a long way and I'd love the help in creating something everyone can enjoy!

Also, just a warning, this story only loosely follows the show so I'd say it could be dubbed as an AU.

Disclaimer: Henceforth, I own nothing but the plot!

My deepest thanks,

Marie

Prologue

Thursday, July 26th 2001

The harsh beat of feet on concrete sounded as Dean took a sharp turn onto another street. He was breathing heavily; it was a cool summer night and he could see wisps of his breath trailing out of his mouth as he ran. He rounded another corner and snarled when he realized, yet again, it was the wrong street he had turned on. Sweat poured down his back and his legs throbbed in protest at the abuse. It wasn't the first time he'd had to run for his life, but it certainly wasn't on his list of fun things to do. By his estimation he had been running for the past forty five minutes and it didn't look like it would be ending any time soon.

Behind him he could hear a sharp, ripping snarl and his instincts had him ducking and rolling just in time to see a large shape fly over where his head would have been. The creature lost control of its' landing as it skidded on its paws and fell with a yelp as it hit the hard ground. Dean would have laughed if his lungs hadn't been strained from running so much. Instead, he quickly heaved himself up and took off again. The streetlight wasn't aiding his search as much as he would have liked and running against something that had a definite advantage over him was without a doubt not something he enjoyed.

For the past several days he had been researching a new hunt that involved travelers disappearing along a stretch of road not far from the Georgia line in Alabama. It always happened at night. A few people who had been spooked on the road had all claimed to have seen a massive black dog. They said it had large, sharp teeth and eyes that glinted in the moonlight. A little research lead Dean to believe the creature was known as a Freybug. Regardless of its name, which Dean had found highly amusing, the creature was a massive dog-like monster that wandered on country roads and frightened travelers. While the lore did not involve the monster killing people, Dean believed this one may have taken on a much darker purpose. The bodies of the victims hadn't been found, but Dean suspected the dog had a sort of burrow it was staying in and quite possibly taking the bodies as trophies.

Knowing that the monster preyed on those passing through, Dean designed a plan to take a midnight jog through a neighborhood sticking to the back roads. He'd grabbed his favorite gun and placed that in the waistband of his pants when he got ready to (hopefully) face the creature. Not sure if his bullets would work he had scouted the area before hand and placed a stake somewhere along the stretch of road. Now Dean was thankful he had done so.

Not long after leaving his car he'd heard a low snarl; he'd grabbed at his gun and fired with a quick and sure aim. He'd known the moment he'd fired at the beast, that his bullet wouldn't do anything but make it angry. Sure enough the bullet flew straight at the creature and passed through its body with ease. The dog reeled at the impact, but was otherwise unharmed by the intrusion. It had then growled furiously at him before taking a lunging leap.

The scraping of claws against gravel drew him back to the present as he finally saw what he was looking for. He swerved to the side, spontaneously adding a limp to his gait hoping to trick the beast into thinking he'd twisted his ankle. He heard a triumphant growl behind him, but remained focused on his task. He dove toward the stake he had hidden earlier that day. The stake was fused with silver and entwined with mercury. Both elements were believed to heal nature. With the last of his flagging strength he twisted to face the murderous black dog as it dove onto him and he held steady as the creatures' momentum caused it to throw itself right onto the stake, piercing its heart.

There was a sickening squelch and thud, then the weight of the dog sagged on top of him, Dean grunted and heaved the great beast off of him. He glared at the body of the beast for a moment before flopping back onto the ground still breathing heavily. When his body calmed down enough for him to stop shaking he ran a weary hand over his sweat soaked hair and sat up. With a grunt he heaved himself up and pulled out the sage, salt, lighter fluid, and matches he always carried on a hunt. Sprinkling the sage and salt, then the lighter fluid over the still body, he waited until he was sure the lighter fluid was reasonably spread across the body before lighting it up.

He waited anxiously for it to finish burning and was thankful that the creature, like the others he'd encountered, seemed to be highly combustible. Once he made sure everything had been turned to dust he searched the area to make sure no open fires started before setting out to find his car. He cursed to himself when he realized he left it under the cover of a grove of trees about three miles down the road.

His previous run hadn't been the most straight forward one. He had deliberately run off course in case the dog was smart enough to realize he was trying to lure it to his kill zone. With a long suffering sigh he picked up his feet and took off in a light jog towards his car reasoning that the sooner he was back to his room the better. He badly needed a shower, felt as if he were dying of thirst, and was badly craving food.

With those thoughts in mind he made it back to his car faster than he anticipated. He almost kissed his car in relief when he saw her. She was waiting patiently for him right where he left her. Ignoring the ache in his joints he did a quick check of his baby to make sure nothing had disturbed her in his absence. Once satisfied his baby had come out of the encounter unscathed he climbed into the driver's seat and closed his eyes in relief.

He had only been sitting in his car for a few minutes when he became aware of a trickling sensation on his left arm and back. He'd dismissed it at first as sweat, but his body has cooled since and the sweat was now uncomfortably dried to his skin. With a curse he used his small flashlight to illuminate his arm and growled when he realized the dog must have scratched him when they had both tumbled down about fifteen minutes into the chase. Grabbing some napkins he had gotten with his last take out. He then pressed them onto the wound and hissed when he realized there must have been salt on the napkins because as soon as the paper made contact with his ripped skin it started to burn. The cuts could have been worse he decided when he looked at the blood coating the napkins. Shrugging to himself he wadded it up and tossed it into his take out bag.

He was about to place his keys in the ignition and head out when he remembered the bodies of the victims still hadn't been found. With a groan he threw his head back against the headrest. He knew it was on him to find it. Otherwise the victims would never be found and they deserved better than that.

Closing his eyes for a second he let out a deep breath and centered his focus, pushing back everything except for finding the beast's lair. This was the reason he did his job after all, not only to get rid of the evil sulking in the shadows, but to prevent others from the same loss he'd felt all those years ago. He did it to protect others and he did it for his family. He did it for Sammy.

A day and a half later saw Dean pulling into a small cabin in southern Nebraska where his dad and brother had been stationed in his absence. Dust swirled around his car as he came to a halt. The cabin was a fairly large one. The wood panels were darkened and worn with age and a small window opened for those inside to see the small meadow that eventually gave way to the trees surrounding it. There wasn't another car parked outside, but that didn't bother Dean. He wouldn't be surprised to hear his father had taken off on another hunt.

Letting out a slow and unsteady breath he rubbed his tired eyes. He'd driven a straight nineteen hours to arrive just outside a small town in southern Nebraska at the cabin. He wasn't sure what had upset him up so badly about this last case. He'd seen many bodies before, but this time it wasn't just that. The picture of a dark skinned woman with long ebony hair flashed through his mind. She was one of the nine victims and Dean could tell she'd been beautiful in life, but it was the babe clenched tightly in her arms, even in death, that had him shaken to the core.

He didn't know if it was because seeing that reminded him of his own mother and how he knew she would have done the same for himself and his brother. It also could have been the strange surge of pride and admiration he felt for this woman because he knew, if the choice had to be made, he would do the same for his brother. Either way the encounter had left him unsettled and more than anything he wanted to rush inside and make sure his little brother was okay. That Sammy was still grousing over being left behind again or moping about being left in the middle of nowhere.

Eager to see his little brother, but not wanting to let on how much this last case had affected him, Dean grabbed his two duffels and tossed them over his shoulders before making his way inside. He let himself in and dumped his bags on the floor. There were no lights turned on in the small hallway, but the midday sun shone brightly through the windows. Dean paused for a moment allowing his eyes to adjust before striding forward.

The hall was swathed in sunlight and as if filtered through the window, small specks of dust could be seen swaying listlessly through the air. The light gray painted walls lit up to reveal a dark green hue in its depth. As he walked, his tired, worn out body was shedding the exhaustion like a snake shedding its skin. His footsteps felt considerably lighter now that he knew he was seconds away from seeing his brother. He walked into the kitchen and immediately realized it was empty. He then made a beeline straight toward the living room knowing his brother was probably lost in one of his stupid books he was always going on about.

Grinning he strode into the room. He had hours' worth of quips he'd thought of during the long drive to dish out to his brother. He could already picture the look Sammy would give him. The way he'd narrow his intelligent brown eyes at Dean, pinch his lips together in a frown, and scrunch his nose in distaste. Yeah, Dean knew that look well. It was when he knew he was doing his job as the big brother right.

He looked around the large room, "Sammy?" he called.

He waited for a moment, but no answer came. Dean frowned then decided that he must be locked up somewhere in his room. A quick search of the small cabin revealed that it hadn't been disturbed in the last couple of days. Worry was quickly beginning to turn into panic. He made one last pass from the living room the kitchen. He wasn't worried about his dad, his dad was on the road more than he was with the boys, but Sammy never went on a hunt, ever. Dean had made sure his dad knew that if he needed help he was to take Dean instead, no matter the circumstances.

A flash of white caught his eye on the kitchen table as he went to pass by. He paused and walked to stare down at the small, white envelope sitting there. There was another note sitting next to it. That note read,

Dean. On a hunt. Contact you soon.

But it wasn't the angry scrawl of his father that had him slowly backing up until he hit the cold, hard wood of the counter. Staring at the white envelope, his legs gradually buckled and he slid onto the floor, still gazing at the white envelope.

His heart pounded in his chest and his hands began to shake slightly until he clenched them into tight fists. He may have never seen that envelope before, but he didn't have to read it to know what it said. It was a letter, from Stanford. A letter dedicated to Sammy. An acceptance letter.

He let out an unsteady breath and hugged his knees to his chest. Deep down he had always known this day would come. The day where Sammy would leave. Where he would leave him. He had always known it, but had hoped it would never come to pass. Their dad had never been able to understand him; Sammy had always wanted to be normal, to live a regular life. Their dad had spent years hunting monsters and Dean knew he couldn't leave him to do it by himself. Dean didn't know if his mother would have wanted him to hunt the creatures that lurk in the night, his dad had always refused to talk about her. But he knew the old man; their lifestyle wasn't an easy one. Leaving him would be his dad's death sentence. Helping his dad would keep him safe and alive and despite his dad's tendency to want to hunt alone, he would have backup if he needed it.

Sammy couldn't stand living the life they had, he had never aspired to be all the things their dad wanted them to be. It had always given their father fits, but Sammy was stubborn. Living a life without being constantly uprooted and left behind was what Sammy wanted. He had wanted Dean to join him, but Dean knew he couldn't do that. Whenever Sammy had asked, he had just shook his head and hoped that one day Sammy would just forget about it. Dean had been selfish, not wanting to give up on being a family, not wanting to give him up. They had both known the minute Sammy left he would never be coming back.

Dean felt a lone tear slip down his cheek. He didn't bother to look in the room Sammy had been using. He knew the two bags that held all of his brother's belongings were gone, there was nothing left of him other than Dean's memories. He sat still for a long moment before shakily getting up. He stumbled through the door, fumbling with his keys. When he reached the car he lurched and fell inside with a thud.

Revving his engine he took off down the dirt road, his wheels spinning. He didn't hear the rocks that were being spit up and scratching his baby. He drove and drove before stopping at the first bar he came across. Stalking toward the door he strode in. Tonight he was going to forget. He was going to forget everything. He was going to get lost in swaying bodies and drink until he didn't even know his own name.

He melded with the crowd and took large, careless drinks of whatever was handed to him because it didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more. Sammy was the only thing that had ever truly meant something to Dean.

But now he was gone, and Dean was alone.