A/N1: I wanted to get a very, very dear friend of mine shenshen1977 into writing some Supernatural fics, because she writes really cool stories for the Avengers fandom. So I went all sneaky and stuff on her and gave her this: "Dean put the coffee cup on the table, the black liquid sloshing over the top and sighed: "Sammy, you know what?" "What?" He slurred and blinked, trying to keep Sam in focus. "I think this coffee ain't just coffee." and told her she has to use it in a story, with the plot of it being Sam spikes Dean's coffee, go wild with that! And so she did. And I did too. I wrote this and she wrote her own fic, but we each had to use THAT scene somewhere in the story. Please go check out her story, it's called SPIKED. Just go to shenshen1977's profile, and look for SPIKED! Yup, SPIKED! Because I'm a moron when it comes to linking to things *facepalm*

A/N2: This story is complete, it has a prologue, 4 chapters and an epilogue, will post every other day (because I still have to edit a few things). I own nothing and I'm sorry for any and all grammar/spelling mistakes you are gonna find. This is set in S2-ish.

WARNINGS: gross, icky, disgusting imagery (the usual from me, LOL), language and if you suffer from Chaetophobia, please do not read this!

PROLOGUE:

April 4th, 1925

The street was packed with people walking around minding their own business; they were always minding their own business these days – grim faced, hunched over with hands in their pockets and sadness in their eyes. Her mommy's hand in hers was warm, soft and a little sweaty, squeezing her little fingers tight, didn't wanna lose her in the mass of people. Her brand new black shoes were making a taptaptap noise on the wet pavement, but she loved her shiny shoes, even if they were loud. They had a thin strap that buckled her foot in the shoe and she could see her white sock peeking through the hole at the top of her foot. It all went so nicely with her new brown-white dress and she smiled at Peggy Broadshoot across the road, because she had a new dress and new shoes, and Peggy didn't. She'd even stick out her tongue, but that was for babies and she was no baby.

She taptaptaped on, trying not to step into anything eww-y on the sidewalk, because she wasn't supposed to ruin her new shoes. Mommy said so and daddy did too.

She took a deep breath; whatever was being made in the nearby bakery smelled so good, it made her mouth water and she wanted some of it. Or maybe some sweets, she'd die for some sweets. Maybe something with raisins, she loved raisins. She looked up at her mommy and smiled when her mommy's hand brushed some of her red, thick, wavy hair out of her eyes.

"We'll go to the pharmacist next. Alright darlin'? Then the bakery. I promise."

She nodded. Her mommy's voice was sad, her mommy was always sad these days, and her daddy angry. They fought a lot too; sometimes she heard the word 'money' being screamed by her daddy's booming voice. She knew they had little of that as soon as there was no more meat on the table. But mommy promised they would visit the bakery and maybe, maybe she'd get something sweet and full of raisins. Raisins weren't expensive, right? It wasn't expensive to dry grapes, was it?

She felt a little tug on her hand and a bell ring out above her head when her mommy opened the door to the small pharmacy. It was the only pharmacy miles around and even people from the next towns came here for their medication. It was run by Mr. Burley, but he died a month ago, shot himself in the head, she heard her daddy say, which surprised her, because Mr. Burley was always so nice to her. Gave her a lollipop every time she came here.

But the new pharmacist was a weird fellow. His hair was black, really short and so slick with gel, it looked gross. He had a scar on his left cheek that went from the corner of his mouth all the way up to his temple, dividing his cheek in two. She heard her mommy and daddy talk about the man and how he got the scar in Europe, ways back, but she didn't pay that much attention. Europe was far, far away and she was ten years old, an age when everything felt huge and far.

She peered at him over the high counter and shuddered. It really was a nasty looking scar; all red and gaping still, even if it happened a long time ago. And when he smiled at her across the counter, she nearly swallowed her tongue. It was something foul in that smile; it split his mouth and the scar apart. It was appalling, 's what it was.

"Well hello there, sweetheart."

Even the words were repulsive, made her shiver all over and she hid behind her mommy's legs, gripping her mommy's white-green silky dress with her hands. It wasn't a new dress; her mommy had it since she could remember and she loved it, especially the big white daisies that decorated the front. Her mommy was so pretty, and when her dress fluttered in the early April breeze, she looked like an angel.

She peeked around her mommy's legs at the man wrapping something in white paper. He smiled to her – the scar gaping wide - and she gasped and hid her face in the dress again.

She felt her mommy's hand on the top of her head, steering her towards the door. The bell rang again and the doors closed behind her.

"Bakery now, darling."

And they walked down the street towards the bakery.

When she saw the man next, he was leaning over her, his teeth pointy and black, dripping blood like a leaky faucet. His breath was as vile as his words had been and the scar on his cheek pulsed with his smile.

"Hello, sweetheart."

His voice was as soothing as it was obnoxious.

She wanted her mommy. She wanted her daddy.

"Mommy!"

The last thing she ever saw was a serrated knife and a huge chunk of her beautiful red curly hair along with bloody skin being held up in his hand.

The she knew no more.

June 7th, 1959

"Well hello there, sweetheart."

The man leaning over the high, white counter was … horrible. If her mother didn't need the cough syrup for father she thinks they'd both run away screaming. The man reeked of something, but she didn't know what. It just smelled really bad and he looked disgusting what with that red scar looking like the Grand Canyon – she knew Grand Canyon, she had been there last year with grandpa and grandma - that seemed to wink at her when he smiled. She gulped and looked away, finding the display of pamphlets on her left awfully interesting.

Next time she saw him, she was screaming herself hoarse and gasping for breath. Through bleary, tears filled eyes she could see a low ceiling above her; cracked and mold-green with a brown stain right above her that she hoped was from water.

There was a burning pain coming from somewhere around her head and she screamed and breathed in air that smelled of decay; rotten eggs and mold.

The man's teeth were sharp and black when he appeared at her left side and whispered: "Hello, sweetheart."

He was leaning over her with pieces of her long, straight red hair held in one hand and bloody scissors in the other.

Then she knew no more.

June 17th, 1995

"Hello, sweetheart."

The man was as sleazy as he had been when she last saw him. But now ... now his teeth were sharp and long and dripping blood and his eyes were full of glee. He smelled of age, something rotten and decayed; like someone who should've been six feet under a long, long time ago.

She screamed up at the low ceiling with a piss yellow stain right above her head. She screamed for her mommy and for her brother. She screamed because her head felt as if it was light on fire. She screamed for her dad, even if he had been dead for three years now. She screamed and gurgled when she saw strings of her curly red hair get stuffed into a glass jar.

Then she knew no more.

May 17th, 2006

"Hello, sweetheart."

TBC...