Chapter 1—Scavenger Hunt

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the show or its characters (much to my dismay and disappointment!) I only own the ones that you don't recognize.

Please read and review. This is my first time writing anything along the lines of a fic. So please be kind!

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"Sammy! Look out!" Dean shouted as he saw a chair flying towards his little brother's back.

Sam hit the floor just in time to dodge the chair, "thanks, Dean!"

"Just start exorcising this demon already!" Dean shouted as the demon tackled him to the floor. A sickening crack was heard throughout the room as Dean's head made contact with the edge of the metal coffee table.

God! I hate this 'modern' furniture! It's ugly and it really hurts when you hit it! Where is a good old fashioned, flimsy coffee table when you need one? Dean kept this monologue going in order to keep his mind off the white hot pain that was radiating throughout his skull and the pummeling the demon was delivering at the moment.

"Christo," Dean grunted between blows. The demon flinched and he laughed, "how's that feel you fugly bastard? Christo! How does that feel? Huh? You should probably know that if you're going to try and kill me, you had better make sure I'm dead and buried because if I'm not, then I'm going to come back, kick your ass and then kill you!"

Dean grinned and shook his head, "You guys never seem to get that. But then again, I guess it doesn't take a genius to kill people. Case and point: if you're going to possess someone, you should at least find a guy with a nice body. Not that," he advised as he gestured to the protruding belly. "Chicks aren't into that dude. And the ones that are; you wouldn't want to touch them with a ten foot pole."

The demon silenced Dean's mockery with a swift uppercut to the jaw that left Dean with a split lip and a few loose teeth. "How does that feel, Dean? Does it hurt as much as knowing that your Dad is spending eternity in Hell because of you? Do you want another one?"

Dean's rage boiled over as he grabbed the demon's arm that was holding him in to the floor and bucked his hips while rolling to the right. He landed on top of the demon and began beating the hell out of him. He knew why his Dad wasn't hunting with them. He knew that John would be spending eternity in Hell because of his eldest son. He knew all of this and still felt the stab of guilt along with the anger; the rage that exploded whenever one of these evil creatures even mentioned his father, the very person who taught him how to fight them.

A scream filled the air and Dean realized that Sam had exorcised the demon.

Unfortunately, the man that was possessed did not make it. Dean's beating didn't help, but this particular demon had conveniently been pushed in front of an oncoming transport truck (a move on Dean's part since the demon was trying to throw Sam into the path of the oncoming eighteen wheeler), so the odds of his survival were next to nil.

A noise behind him caused Dean to try to jump up and turn around; only he stumbled and fell to his knees. "Sammy! Give a guy a 'lil warnin' before you sneak up on him, 'kay?" he slurred.

"Dean, are you okay?"

"'Course I'm fine."

"We're going to the hospital," Sam stated as he probed the back of Dean's head, earning him a hiss of pain from his older brother.

"I'm fine. I already said that," he gritted out as he swatted his brother's hands away.

"Dean, don't argue with me! We're going!"

"No, we're not. It's my car that we're driving and my head that was hit. I'm fine. Jus' a bit dizzy," he tried to assure his younger sibling.

"No Dean, you're not okay! You're falling down, you have a nasty gash where your head collided with the table and you are slurring your words. I'm worried, so get your ass out to the car! Move it!"

"If my head wasn't spinning so much, I'm deck you for talking to me like that," Dean relented as he held out a hand for Sam to help him up from the floor.

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As Sam drove his older brother to the local ER he became increasingly worried. Dean had been becoming more and more unresponsive. He was looking around at things like he was seeing everything for the first time and he wasn't making much sense. By the time they got to the ER Sam felt his control slipping as his brother became more deranged.

They didn't have long to wait, and Sam was thankful for that. The doctor saw Dean, preformed a neurological exam, sent him for a CT scan, stitched him up and then sent him home with his younger brother along with a prescription for a mild painkiller. Her diagnosis: a concussion, but nothing too serious.

Sam didn't sleep that first night; he was too worried about Dean to even think about sleeping. He woke his brother up every three hours, even though he almost lost his life to his very tired, drugged up brother who promised to "throttle" him the next time he even thought about waking him up.

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THREE DAYS LATER:

The door to Dean's cheap motel room burst open and he stumbled in with Suzanna, the local smoking hot bartender. He kicked the door closed with his heel and locked it, never breaking contact with her lips. Dean started to navigating her where he wanted to go, but she spun him around and shoved him onto the bed. Dean landed with a muted thud as he watched her saunter over to the cheap radio, the sway of her hips under her short skirt were hypnotizing and he drew a long, deep breath as he tried to remember if he had a condom in his wallet.

Suzanna settled on a station as a song started playing; turning a predatory smirked at Dean. He grinned in anticipation as he recognized the tune "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" by Big & Rich. Suzanna began her teasingly slow striptease. Her shirt was the first to go revealing tanned skin, a firm belly and a lacy red bra. Dean's grin grew as she unzipped her tight jean skirt and shimmied out of it uncovering matching panties. He took a moment to take a mental snapshot of this arousing image: the petite woman of twenty two with her brunette, shoulder length hair that spiraled around her face as she danced provocatively to the music in her cowboy boots. It was Texas after all and he was thankful for that.

"Dean?" a voice questioned.

Suzanna was reaching behind her back…

"Dean?" He recognized that voice. He'd know it anywhere. Sam.

"Go away, Sammy! I'm busy!" Dean groaned.

Suzanna was unclasping her bra when he blinked and the lighting in the room had changed, and the radio was off. Suzanna wasn't there. Sam was. "Jesus!" Dean growled.

"Not quite," Sam retorted.

"Sammy," he moaned while roughly rubbing his hands over his face, "I was having the greatest dream and you woke me up just before the best part." He sighed wearily until a thought occurred to him and he shot up in bed, "What's wrong? Are you okay? Do we have a hunt?"

Sam smiled widely, "Yeah, but not the kind you're thinking of."

"Damn it Sammy!" he whined while sinking back onto the mattress, "It's too early to be cryptic like that!" Dean's temper was mounting and gathered even more speed as he glanced at his watch. "5 am?! What the hell is wrong with you?! If you don't tell me that you're deathly ill, so help me God, I'm going to help you get that way!"

Sam's smile grew even larger, "Do you know what day it is?"

Dean gave Sam an incredulous look and shrugged his shoulders, it was freezing outside and the heater in their room was broken (of course).

Sam waited patiently for Dean to remember the date.

'Wait, it's cold. Really cold. It's December, that means that it's—' Dean tossed his head to try and clear out the sleep and drug induced haze that was still lingering in his mind. It had only been three days since he sustained that concussion and the side effects had subsided, with the exception of a killer headache. He mentally counted the days since their run-in with the demon. Dean suddenly grinned up at his younger brother and said, "Merry Christmas, Sammy."

Sam laughed, "Are you sure you didn't hit your head harder than you originally thought? You never forget Christmas! You even remembered that one year when Dad was gone on a hunt and you stole that book from the library so that I'd have something under the tree."

"Oh God, don't remind me! I had detention for a month and they made me apologize to Ms. Smithers. She looked and smelled like road kill that's been in the sun for a week," Dean winced at the memory.

"It was sweet, even though my Christmas present was taken away before I could finish it," Sam added with a wink.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Dean smiled at the prospect of all the different things he could do to get revenge on Sammy for waking him up at this ungodly hour. He settled for a glare and a wider smile, "Bitch."

"Jerk."

They chuckled as Sam reached behind him and produced a large, steaming cup of coffee to Dean.

"That's the least you could do for waking me up," Dean groused, only half serious as he took an appreciative sip from his Styrofoam cup. "Wait…you said something about a hunt. What's the job?"

"It's not so much a job as a…non-supernatural hunt."

If I get enough reviews to continue this story my updates may be a bit slow for the next week or two because I have exams. I originally was planning this as a one shot, but wasn't sure if you guys would like it, so I decided to post this and wait to see the reaction I got. Enjoy!

FeistyFeral