Three months. Exactly. Sam knew it was that long because he kept track of the days on his left thigh. Every night he would use a knife to make a scar to count the days. He was pretty sure Father knew about the scars, but the man didn't get two shits.

Father. He hated calling the man that. Sam didn't know the kidnapper's name, but he knew better than to call him anything other than 'Father'.

...

"Please!" Sam begged, trying pull his arm out of the man's grasp. It's been two days. "I just want to go home to my family."

"You are home," The man growled, yanking on Sam's bruised arm again, causing him to wince in pain. "I am your family."

"You're not my family!" Sam argued.

The man backhanded him across the face. "What do you call me?"

Sam didn't respond, he just held his stinging cheek, his hair in his face. The man grabbed Sam's hair and yanked his head back. "I said, what do you call me?"

"F-father," Sam said quietly.

"Good boy," The man said, stubbing his cigarette out on Sam's arm and letting go of his hair. He pushed Sam onto his side with his foot. "Who am I?"

"Father," Sam said quietly again. He hoped Dean and his real dad would find him soon.

...

Sam had all but given up hoping for Dean and John to find him. He barely even remembered that night when Father kidnapped him. He wouldn't be surprised if John and Dean gave up looking for him. Less of a burden for them.

"You up?"

Sam rolled over in the bed (which was really just a mattress with bedding on the floor) he shared with Jayden, the boy who was here before Sam got here. Jayden was kidnapped too, and was a 14, two years older than Sam. Without Jayden, Sam probably wouldn't have survived the past three months. "Yeah." He said, sitting up and cracking his back. The boys got up and dressed, then quietly made their way into the kitchen to make breakfast for Father.

They knew to not to be late when making it, especially since Father had to work today, meaning he would be in a worse mood than usual. They were done only moments before Father walked out of his room, and they scrambled away into the bedroom they shared. Sam went into the bathroom that connected to their room and washed his face to try and feel a little bit cleaner than he did at the moment.

He looked up at his face in the mirror, frowning. He was pale - paler than he should be - because of the little exposure he got to the sun, and lack of correct vitamins. Dark smudges were under his eyes. There was still that little bit of baby fat on his cheeks that refused to let go of his otherwise lean body. Then their was his hair. Or lack of.

Within the first week of being here, wherever 'here' was, Sam wasn't even sure what state they were in, Father had gotten drunk one night and shaved all of Sam's hair off, saying it was too recognizable. Sam felt naked with out his hair, like a different person altogether.

"You okay in there?" Jayden asked through the door.

Sam sighed and dried his face off from the water he had splashed on it. "Yeah, sorry," He opened the door. "Just lost in thought."

Jayden gave him a small smile and pulled the younger into a hug, resting his chin on Sam's head. Sam jolted when Father yelled out his name. Jayden let go of him so he could go out into the living room.

"Yes, sir?" Sam asked, entering the kitchen, where Father stood with a cigarette in his hand.

Father gestured to the countertop where the bag of bread was still open, and there were bread crumbs next to the toaster. "Is this your mess?"

Sam felt his heart drop, knowing it was Jayden who had made the toast, but not wanting to see his friend get hurt. "Yes sir. I'll clean it up." Sam made a move to pick up the bread bag but Father grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards so his hip slammed into the table.

"Ungrateful brat," Father said, picking his plate up off the table and tossing it into the sink. "I give you a home and you make a mess of it."

Sam didn't really understand why a few crumbs was such a bad thing, but he knew not to question Father when he was angry. He just stood there, looking at his feet, his hands on the table behind himself. Father grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him so he looked up at the man's face.

"You should be happy I save you from that prat," Father groweled. Father was under the impression that he had 'saved' both Sam and Jayden from their previous homes.

Sam glared at him and without meaning to, said, "I didn't need you to save me."

Father threw Sam to the ground and stomped on his stomach once. Sam coughed and rolled onto his side, curling up, "Don't. Talk. Back." As if to emphasize each word, he kicked Sam in the stomach each time. Sam groaned and coughed again, blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth. Father sneared at him, like he was looking at a a gross bug he had just stepped on, and stepped over Sam towards the door, muttering, "Disgusting."

He opened the door after pulling his jacket on, "Jayden get your ass in here and clean up this mess!" Father left the house and Jayden bolted into the kitchen, having heard what was going on but knew better than to get involved.

Jayden slid to his knees next to Sam and helped him into a sitting position. "Anything broken?" He asked.

Sam wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, catching the blood that was coming out and shook his head. "I don't think so. Just bruised. I'll be fine."

Jayden wrapped an arm around Sam's middle and lifted him then led him towards the couch. After Sam was leaning comfortably against the arm of the couch, Jayden got an ice pack from the freezer, wrapped a towel around it and knelt down at the side of the couch, gently putting the ice pack under Sam's shirt against his ribs to reduce the swelling. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Sam gave him a rueful smile. "Yes, Jay, I'll be fine. I've had worse."

Jayden frowned but didn't say anything. "I'll take care of the hard chores today, okay?"

"Okay," Sam agreed gratefully. He didn't want Jayden to do all of the chores, so he would try to help out later after he could breathe a bit easier. Jayden stood to go clean up the blood on the kitchen floor.

John and Dean hadn't hunted the supernatural in five months. For five straight months, they dedicated everything they had to try and find Sam. They searched high and low, called other hunters who helped them search for a while; they even went to the police who searched for a few days before telling the Winchesters they were going to start looking for a body. Dean and John stopped asking the police for help after that.

After about two months, most of the hunters they had contacted stopped looking, but still kept an eye out. After four months it seemed like John, Dean and Bobby were the only ones looking. Though Ellen Harvelle had a picture of Sam that she would flash at new customers sometimes and ask them if they had seen the boy, but nobody was finding anything.

At month six, John caught wind of a case where a different child was being murdered in a park every week, and convinced Dean to help if find the creature who was doing this. Dean didn't want to stop searching for Sam, and they never did, but they started hunting again. Most of their cases involved children, some of them not even supernatural.

They didn't want any family to feel what Dean and John felt at not knowing what happened to Sam. Not know what the worst part. Was it something supernatural that got Sam? Or even just a human?John brought up the possibility of Sam running off, and Dean and him got in a big fight about it. Dean refused to believe Sam would do that, and eventually John agreed, even if Sam had, they would have found him by now, they were sure.

Dean picked up the habit of looking in car windows when they drove down a road and he wasn't driving. Every car they passed he would look in the front and back windows, hoping one day to see Sam sitting in one of the cars.

He wondered if Sam was okay. He wondered if Sam . . . was even alive. Dean tried not to think like that. He like to think Sam was out there somewhere, okay, and looking for his older brother. Dean could image Sam walking down some long road surrounded by open fields, asking passing cars if they had seen a 1967 Chevy Impala recently.

Dean knew Sam was out there, and he hoped one day he would find him.

*Sigh* another short chapter... Sorry :(

So I didn't update last week because my aunt passed away due to cancer and Most of my family has been really upset, and I've been out of my state to visit family and attend her funeral.

I'll try to update once or twice a week now, though.