Hello! This is my first attempt at a fanfiction! All comments and reviews are greatly appreciated. I love constructive criticism and second opinions! I am super over critical about my writing and my friend had to talk me into posting this (I usually write something then instantly delete it!) :) Thank you!

Disclaimer: I see everybody is writing a disclaimer so I will as well, I do NOT own anything Supernatural. Please note that this applies to everything in this story.

Have a nice day!

Chapter 1:

"Could you be any less productive?" Sam sarcastically asked Dean as he leafed through recent articles on his laptop.

"Yes." Dean replied trying to act completely serious. Dean smiled and rolled into his back to continue watching awful daytime television. He yawned in exhaustion, they had just finished up their last case and Dean was up all night in a small bar trying to drink away the memories of Sam being ripped apart and then was forcefully fed to him on a spoon. Thankfully it was just a trickster ripping apart a dummy version Sam, feeding Dean air, but the lasting memory lingered. Even though he knew Sam was ok and alive for now, last night he was a train wreck. Dean longed for sleep but knew if he fell asleep, Sam would know that he snuck out last night. And with Sam being Sam, he would get to the bottom of it all. That was one thing Dean could not have, ever since their dad's death, Sam has tried to get Dean to open up about his feelings. If Sam knew what the trickster did to him, that would just cause Sam to bug him even more about it. Dean pushed away those thoughts and rested his eyes for a moment. As Dean just started to doze off, Sam startled him awake.

"I found something!" Sam exclaimed. Dean sat up and tried to look awake as Sam filled him in.

"There has been several murders in a Ohio town called Chesterville." Sam explained. "I thought it was a run of the mill serial killer, that is until I read that their insides were gone and replaced with- get this- cotton. Dean, I really think we should check this out."

"It's probably just some psychopath who took his stuffed animal obsession to the next level." Dean joked, trying to convince Sam it was not worth their time.

"Dean, please. this does not seem like the work of a human. No lacerations were found on the body, whatever did this, didn't need to cut them open first. Please, it won't hurt to just find out what's going on."

Dean was reluctant to go on another hunt, he just wanted a day to recuperate and not have to worry about Sam being killed. But something was intriguing about this hunt, he couldn't pinpoint what. Dean decided to go see what this case is all about and deal with what he was going through the only way he knew how, hunting. "Let's go catch this son of a bitch." He grumbled, standing up and packing up to leave. He could catch up on sleep later, he gone longer than this without rest

They were completely packed up and had checked out of the motel within three minutes. After the years of practice, the duo had gotten quick at packing and making sure they forgot nothing. Leaving behind even a bullet could cause a police investigation and expose their recent whereabouts. Police have been hunting Dean down for several murders he didn't commit and Dean did not want to go to jail again. They climbed into the Impala and began the 19 hour drive to Chesterville.

Dean's knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. He had driven for about three hours and was afraid he would fall asleep at the wheel. He knew he should probably let Sam drive for a while, but that would only prove how tired he really was. He glanced over to see what Sam was doing, research, of course. Dean gripped the steering wheel even tighter, trying not to pass out. His stomach growled and remembered that along with not sleeping for almost 50 hours, he had also not eaten. The trickster had chained him up in an underground tunnel, left him there for a while, and only returned to rip "Sam" to pieces and force feed the imaginary Sam to him. Once the real Sam came to rescue him, he was almost slipping into unconsciousness. Sam dragged him back to the motel and tried to get him to eat or sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashback of the life leaving Sam's eyes as his the assailant ripped the skin from his bones. He heard Sam scream in pain and then silence. He felt too sick to his stomach to eat from the memory of Sam's salty blood being forced down his throat. Dean pushed those thoughts away and tried to focus on the road ahead. The two lanes seemed to merge into one and Dean slipped into unconsciousness.