hello:) ok, first off i just want to say that i am very, very sorry that it took me so long to update this, but i wanted to finish "something lost" first. that story was occupying my mind, and i didnt leave me room to write anything else. i should be able to update this regurlely, but reviews do help me update quicker.

i'm not begging. :) it's just that i like to hear other people's thoughts and ideas, it gives me more ideas for the story. so thank you to everyone that has reviewed, and please keep it up.

so enjoy, and please, please, let me know what you think.

PS: because i have been asked so many times i will just put everyone's fears to rest right now. you dont have to worry about deathfics with me (though i personally do like to read them). i will never kill any of the winchester men, i like them all too much:)

D: this is and always will be just for fun!

WHAT BECOMES OF US

Chapter 3

John broke every speed limit there was between him and Kansas, his old friend's cryptic message running over and over again through his mind, his fears growing with each moment that passed, each mile he traveled. He could feel something growing, something brewing, the air around him tasting different, the ground beneath him feeling different. His boys were all he had left in the world, all he had to hold his tattered heart together.

And now, well, now he was losing them to the very things he had spent their lives hunting, the very things he had tried so hard to destroy. Everything that he was, everything that he had, hinged on the lives of his two sons, and now he may be on the brink of losing them. It was all too much to take in, his tired body sinking further and further into the seat, his worn soul retreating back into his broken heart.

They needed to be ok, he needed them to be ok, that was all that mattered to him anymore. He had nearly lost them, been forced to hold Dean while he slowly froze to death, been forced to look into Sam's eyes and tell him that he didn't have all the answers. His boys were broken, and it was all his fault. He suddenly knew how they must have felt all those months ago, the anguish they must have gone through when they were unable to find him, unable to call him. And it was one of the worst feelings of his life.

And, on top of everything else, there was Missouri's phone call. It was the only time in the past two decades that he had heard her voice tremble, the only time he had ever sensed any panic coming off the woman, the only time he had ever noticed fear. And it all had something to do with his children, with Sam. She wouldn't give him specifics, hell, she wouldn't even tell him what she was calling about at first, but he had finally managed to pry the information from her. Something was happening to Sam, and that was all the senior Winchester needed to hear.

He pulled up outside the physic's house, barely waiting for the engine to stop before he leapt from the car and charged up the steps, knocking loudly in the quiet night. At that point he didn't care if he awoke the devil himself with the noise, John needed more then anything to be in that house, learning everything Missouri knew, and searching every shadow for his missing children.

"Would you keep it the hell down." Missouri reprimanded as she pulled open the door, John's angry and worried face greeting her scowl. He was making a wracked and it was going on three in the morning, the last thing they needed now was to draw attention to themselves. She had felt a shift in her very being the night before, a power, an energy ripping through her with such force that she knew things in her life would never be the same again.

But it wasn't just the power the awoke her, no, it was the pain, the sorrow that laced through the entity. It was so overwhelming that she had dissolved into tears moments after ending her call with John. She felt as though her heart had been ripped to pieces, her soul aching with an all encompassing sense of loss. It was so great, so powerful, that is was down right terrifying.

"I don't really have the time to be cordial." John spat as he entered the home, his heart racing, mind over flowing. He had expected his boys to be there, expected them to be ready for the fight, ready to be put back together. But, there was no one there but Missouri, and John just didn't understand. "Where are they?"

"I don't know." She stated evenly as they made their way to the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee already on the hot plate.

"What do you mean you don't know? I thought they were here. You said you sensed something in Sam."

"I do, I can feel him as though he was right here with us."

"I didn't think you could do that?"

"I usually can't. I usually have to be in close proximity to someone to feel them. But this, John, this is something different."

"Different how?"

"Your boy is powerful, there's no question there, but he's never been this powerful before. I've never felt anything like it."

"How is that possible?"

"I'm not sure."

"Do you feel stuff like this from any of the other kids like him?"

"No. This is something else. It's almost like something was magnifying his powers. Now, whatever that was, it's gone."

"So, he's getting weaker again?"

"That's the thing, he's still growing stronger. It's almost like a wall has come down, and now, what Sam really is, is shinning through."

"What he really is, is my son!"

"I'm sorry, John, I didn't mean in to sound like that. It's just, a power that strong shouldn't be in just one person."

"What are we supposed to do?"

"That's why I called you, I need to know where your boys are."

"I haven't heard from them in two months, and none of my contacts can find them."

"What? They're missing!"

"Yes."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me."

"They're my children, I can take care of them."

"Bull. You have to let those walls of yours down, John Winchester, let someone help you, help your boys."

"Who's supposed to help us? The last person I trusted almost killed, Dean."

"I know you're scared, John, but something's going on here, and I have a bad feeling that we're running out of time. Ever since I called you I've felt Sam's powers grow. If we don't find them soon, if we don't reverse this, there's no telling what could happen to your children."

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The car ride was a silent as ever, both brothers lost in their thoughts, lost in their own worlds, nearly oblivious to the lives that were being lived just beyond the impala's dirty windows. They had never been apart of that world, not really. Everything they had ever known, everything they had ever done was pushed to the shadows, whispered about around dying campfires, thrown to the back of naive minds. People didn't want to know about the darkness, didn't want to think about the evil, and so, there was no place for the Winchesters in their minds, no reason to think about the hunters, when they made themselves believe that there was nothing to be hunted.

Dean watched his younger brother as he leaned against the window, his eyes distant and vacant, skin so pale in was nearly transparent. The bags around his eyes had grown so much that it made him look more zombie then human, more like the monsters they fought then his little brother and it hurt the older man to no end. He was supposed to protect Sam, to keep him safe, not watch him fade away into the darkness at the edge of their lives.

Dean had lost so much to that darkness, suffered so much at the so called 'hands of fate' that he didn't know what to do anymore, didn't know where to turn. Everything had become so hard for him, the hunt he once loved losing its appeal, the brother he cared for more then life itself slipping beyond his reach. And Dean was left alone to deal with it all. He knew his father would be dissapointed, knew that there would be no place in his life for a son that could no longer hunt. And so, Dean did what he always did, he tried to smile, forced himself to breath, listened intently to his own heartbeat. He did anything and everything he could to quell the pain, silence the voices in his head, ward of the overwhelming sense of failure that had taken up residence in every bone of his body. But the darkness was become so dense, the silence so lonely, that he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on, how much more he could take before he drowned in the madness that was his life.

He was brought back to the present when he heard his brother moan beside him, Sam pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunched against a sudden pain. His head was throbbing, ears ringing, as the car thundered down the highway. It was almost as though he could hear thousands of voices calling to him, needed him, begging for help, screaming in agony. Each one wanted something from him, wanted him to save them as they screamed out in their final moments. It was like his visions had grown tenfold, his mind no longer having to deal with seeing nameless strangers die, no, now he had to deal with listening to their voices, living with their pain.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was barely discernible among the ever growing chaos of his mind. But it was something for the younger man to latch onto, a lifeline to help pull him back from the abyss he was sinking into. And, even though he didn't feel like talking, he grabbed onto that strong voice, that over powering presence that was his big brother. He needed Dean to be there, he had always needed Dean to be there, and he wasn't sure he could go on if he had ever lost him. He didn't know what he would do if, one day, he reached out for that lifeline, and found that it wasn't there.

"I'm fine." His voice was weaker then he thought it could ever possibly be, his head feeling like it was going to explode. Oh yes, Sam needed his brother to save him, but he didn't want to add any more wieght to the older man's already stooped shoulders.

"Yeah, sure." Dean mumbled, turning his eyes back to the road, his back ridged and tense. How had their live come to this? "Maybe you should get some sleep?"

"I'm fine. How long?"

"Another few hours at least."

"Ok."

Dean sighed heavily, cracking his neck as he griped the wheel tighter. He needed to get more then two word answers out of his brother. "So." He started again, changing the subject. "Find anything else out about our newest bad guy?"

"Uh, yeah." Sam scrubbed his face, his mind immediately silencing, focus sharpening with the hunt, with his brother's voice. "Apparently, Martin Trater moved here from Wisconsin, where..."

"Let me guess, a series of ritualistic murders happened?"

"Yup, everyone went missing from the parking lot of a Laundromat. Seems like the police were closing in but he just disappeared. Five years later, same murders start again in Ely."

"How long did it go on in Wisconsin?"

"Uh, twenty five years."

"Anywhere before that?"

"Could be, but there're so many similar murders, it's hard to tell."

"Well, that's why you're geek-boy. I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Anything else about his family?"

"Yeah, that I did have some luck with. He was married four times, all later turned up as murder victims."

"Nice guy. How many kids?"

"Just the two, both from his last marriage. At the time of his death they were still pretty young, one called Marci born in '76 and Melinda born in '77. Martin killed their mom one year later."

"So, they lived alone with crazy guy till '88 when they went to foster care."

"Yup, twelve and eleven. Then, get this, their foster homes both burned to the ground within a week of each other. No survivors."

"Well that's quite a coincidence."

"It gets better."

"I can't wait."

"Both houses burned in '93. Same year the murders started up again."

"And the girls died?"

"Well, the bodies couldn't be found, police said that there was just nothing of them left after the fires."

"So, you think maybe the girls' deaths brought back Mr. Angry spirit?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam mumbled.

"What?" Dean rolled his eyes. He needed to get to the bottom of his little brother's mood. He knew he wasn't sleeping, knew he was eating right, and he knew it had to stop. Sam was killing himself and Dean would have none of it.

"What, what?"

" 'yeah, I guess so.'" Dean mimicked his brother's half assed answer, his frustration growing with each moment.

"What? I was just saying it. Tiredly." He added angrily, the headache growing again behind his eyes.

"Sure."

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Oh yeah, you've got fine written all over your pasty white face."

"Being a little hypocritical, don't you think?"

"No." Dean answered back sheepishly, his inner voice telling him that Sam was right. "Look, you're the one that brought the hunt to me, man. But, if you don't want to go then just tell me and I'll turn myself right around."

"I didn't say that."

"Yeah well, you sure sounded like you did."

"Look, Dean, just drive."

"Yes sir, Mr. Moody." Dean mumbled as he pushed down harder on the accelerator, his cell phone vibrating in his pocket.

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The room was dark and cold, ice coating the stone walls of the chamber, water dripping ominously from the grimy ceiling. The old and weathered stone table stood like a monolith in the otherwise empty space. The alter was soaked red with old blood, the single white sheet that was placed across it doing little to hide the crimson stains. The carvings around in ran think with the blood of the newest victim, the young girl's small frame trembling with cold and terror. Her mouth was gagged, hand and feet held in place by some invisible force, some other worldly strength.

She whimpered again as the large knife was drug gently over her exposed torso with just enough pressure to leave behind a thin trail of blood. Every inch of her body was sliced in this way, some rivers deep, some shallow, but all shinning brightly against her pale skin. And above her, the two girls smiled; hungry, thirsty smiles. She tried to struggle but her prone body didn't move, her arms and legs so stationary that she wondered if she had someone become paralyzed. The slow, rythmic chanting of the two girls grew stronger with each minute, sending shockwaves through their prisoner's mind, gripping her with a terror she had never known before.

Megan's eyes grew in horror as what looked like wispy smoke filtered in from every corner of the room, almost as though the very ice that had been clinging to the walls had come to life. It flowed against her, slid along the waistband of her jeans, dancing along her body, flitted up through her hair. She cringed against the touch, shivered as it ran up and down her spine, tears leaking down her bloodied face.

The smoke whispered around her once more before rising up and wrapping itself around the other girl, Mellie looking on as though she were watching a god at work, her eyes fixed on the other girl, face so full of praise. Megan wanted to turn away, but found she couldn't, her eyes taking in everything around her, watching as the smoke seeped inside the girl, watching as her eyes rolled back, skin paling, smile growing.

She tried to scream, tried to pull away as the knife was brought up before her, the possessed girl standing it on its point, lightly piercing the skin just above her heart. She opened her mouth as she smiled, a sickly sound radiating from her petite frame.

"For love, for family, for destiny. We do not chose our will, we save our souls."

And with that she plunged the knife into the bound girl's tender skin, her muffled cry the last sound the world would ever hear her make.