Sam suddenly found himself there. And Dean was on top of him with a deadly glare in his eye, poised to send a fist straight into his face. Sam had never been on the receiving end of the look that was currently on his brother's face. He now knew what every supernatural thing Dean had ever killed saw in the last seconds of their lives…and it scared the living shit out of him.

"Dean?" Sam said weakly as he threw his arms up in an attempt to protect himself from the blow. His jaw felt tender where he had a pretty good idea he had already taken a fierce hit from his brother and his head hurt where it rested on the floor. (And holy shit! Had he been shot?)

Dean stopped mid-swing, his green eyes wide with surprise. He instantly relaxed his grip on Sam's collar and dropped his arm, blinking back tears that he hadn't realized had welled up in his eyes. What the hell was he doing? The demon had pushed him just that little bit, dared him even, and Dean had snapped. "Sam?" His voice was shaky with emotion.

"Yeah, Dean, it's me." Sam lowered his arms, but remained still under his brother, not wanting to make any sudden movements. He didn't know what the demon might have done to make Dean start pounding on him like he apparently was and he wasn't sure how his brother, or father, was going to react if he moved too quickly. He turned his head what little he could to look for the other man, but couldn't see him from where he was.

"Oh, God, Sammy… I…I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me." Dean saw that his hand was trembling as he reached down and wiped the blood from Sam's chin with his thumb. He sensed John come up from behind him a second later and looked up at the man, hope in his eyes, but it was dashed when he saw his father still holding his gun, steadily aiming it at Sam. "Dad, what the hell? Put that down. Don't you think between the two of us, we've done enough?"

"Dean, the demon's still in him." John looked from son to son. Sam looked like he'd been ridden for a month rather than just barely more than twenty-four hours; the kid was bone-tired…eyes dull and sunken in and his face had taken on a gaunt, starved look. The possession was taking a lot out of him. "Get up, Son," he said to Dean. "It's not safe to be that close to him." John looked down at Sam. "I'm sorry, Sammy, but I know you understand." It killed John to have to handle his youngest like this, like a monster, but he had no choice.

Sam nodded slowly and then looked up at Dean. He lifted his brow, waiting. "You heard him, Dean; he's right." Sam closed his eyes when his brother hesitated and gripped his good shoulder tightly in a loving gesture before getting up. He felt Dean's solid weight disappear as his brother stood.

John pulled Dean away from Sam once he was on his feet and stepped in front of him, shielding him. He watched Sam as he got up. "Sam, you okay?"

"I'm not great, but I'm alive." Sam was looking down at the front of his shoulder, pressing a hand to the bullet wound. He pulled his fingers away and they were sticky with blood. It was a clean shot, in and out, and it appeared to be clotting already, but the damn thing hurt like hell. He looked up at his father and saw the regret on John's face. "You shot me?" he asked in disbelief.

"I didn't have a choice. I was trying to stop you…it…from killing…," but John dropped off. He wasn't sure if Sam even knew what had happened, but Sam figured it out quickly when he spun around and saw the three dead hunters.

"Oh, God!" Sam looked between Dean and his dad and the fallen men, but looked back at his father when he heard him ask him a question, bringing him back to firmer ground.

"Sam, do you know why Lee's exorcism didn't work?" John was more than a little concerned. Aside from an exorcism, he had no idea how to force the demon from his son. If the young hunter had any information… These few extra minutes with Sam couldn't be wasted. They might just be critical in saving his son's life.

Sam glanced back over at the murdered hunters, he couldn't help but stare; he had done that. And then he looked back at John. His tongue darted out and licked his dry lips; his whole mouth felt parched. "He tried to exorcise it? But…" Sam could still feel Cal in him, like a parasite gnawing at his soul; it made him sick. He was a ticking time-bomb.

Why wouldn't an exorcism work? he thought to himself. Then it dawned on him. Cal had done something to lock the two of them together. "Fuck," Sam muttered as his hand reflexively went to his side where his flesh still burned painfully. He couldn't believe he had forgotten and grimaced as his fingers ghosted over the brand. He lowered his fingers to the hem of his shirt and gripped it; Sam was afraid to look. He chewed on his bottom lip as he slowly lifted the material.

"What the goddamn hell is that?" Dean asked angrily, pushing John aside so he could take a couple of steps forward and get a better look at the reddened skin. There was a palm-sized sigil of sorts burned directly into his brother. "Oh, that demon's so going down," he growled under his breath, not to anyone in particular.

"I…I don't know. He said he was making sure no one could break us apart. It's like a lock or something." Sam let the shirt drop back down and flinched when he heard Cal in his mind again.

"That's right, Sam. You're mine. I own you. And there's nothing they, or anyone else, can do about it."

A shiver passed through Sam at the chilling reminder from the demon. He wanted to just curl up somewhere and die; he couldn't deal with this. How many? Five dead now…by his hand. Sam turned pleading eyes to his father. "Dad, you gotta do something…please. I can feel him in here." He tapped an index finger against his temple. His eyes began to water and his lower lip started to tremble. "Kill me if you have to, but… I just can't keep going like this, not anymore. I can't kill anyone else." If it was possible, Sam felt the equivalent of Cal rolling his eyes. "Please, Dad… I can't."

John had been quiet, thinking, since Sam raised his shirt. The mark was nothing he had ever seen before. He was also still on guard, watching every little movement Sam made, looking for telltale signs of the demon emerging. Hell, John couldn't even be sure that who (or what) they were talking to was Sam. These damn demons and their head games. Bobby had warned him something like this could happen. If what Sam was saying was true and he was bound to this demon... He sighed. "Sam, don't you let the damn thing win. We'll figure this out."

"Sure he will. He looks a little lost to me, don't you think, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head as if he could get rid of the demon with such an easy gesture. He looked between his father and brother. "Dad, it'll kill you. I know it will." He took a couple of steps back.

"I'm not running away from this, Son," their father said stubbornly. "Dean?" John risked looking over to Dean for a moment. There was a fire in his older son's eyes that he'd never seen before. "Dean?" he said a bit more sternly, pulling Dean back from wherever he was.

"Yes, sir?" Dean was watching his brother; he could see the desperation in those wide hazel eyes. And he could tell the kid was blaming himself for what had just happened to the other hunters. It was just like Sam to do that and it went against every brotherly instinct Dean had not to go to Sam, try to protect him somehow.

His dad gave him a look that said they were moving onto Plan B. Dean groaned inwardly. He wasn't wholeheartedly on board with their secondary plan, but his dad wouldn't take "no" for an answer when he tried to argue with him earlier. They were out of other options right now.

But seriously? How much more could Sam take? Aside from just being plain outright possessed, their father had shot him and Dean had come close to beating the crap out of him (even if it had been the demon at the time). That was just the physical aspect. He could see Sam was already breaking. Dammit.

Their backup plan would be risky for Sam. That had been Dean's biggest argument: it would be no better if they accidentally killed Sam than if the demon did it himself, especially now with how worn out and exhausted he appeared to be. They also, literally, had only one shot at this. Otherwise, John would have taken the chance before instead of putting a bullet through Sam.

The only good thing was that at least they'd have better odds getting this done with Sam at the wheel. Dean was going to have to keep Sam occupied while their father made his move. The sad thing was, was Dean couldn't even warn his brother. Whatever Sam knew, the demon sharing his mind would know, too.

"Sammy, why don't you, um, sit down, take a load off. You're lookin' a little green there."

"Dean, I'm fine, just-"

"Sit down, Sam," Dean said a bit more firmly. Plan B would be a whole hell of a lot easier on Sam if he was down on the ground.

Sam looked at Dean, confused, and then to his father who nodded. He sat down on the floor and pulled his knees up to his chest protectively. He trusted his father and brother, but couldn't help knowing that, first and foremost, they were here to take out this demon.

"Whatcha think they're up to, Sammy?" Cal nudged questioningly. "Think it's time for me to come out and play, let them know who's in charge here?"

Sam's heart rate increased upon hearing Cal. "No," he mumbled, but he felt the subtle shift. He looked up at John as he felt himself slipping. "Dad…," was all Sam got out as he felt himself taken over again.

"Just sit tight, Sammy. This will all be over in a few minutes," Cal sneered.

The demon slid into place just as John reached into his coat and pulled a tranquilizer gun out. He had it aimed at Sam in a heartbeat, but the demon moved before John could pull the trigger.

The gun flew from John's hand and then he was tossed haphazardly off into the far wall, his head making brutal contact with it. He wasn't unconscious, but he was more than a little stunned. Sam could only watch as the demon turned and threw Dean into one of the large packaging machines. The young man impacted solidly with a grunt and fell to the floor in a heap.

"Leave them alone!" Sam cried out as he watched helplessly. "Please, stop. You already have me. God, what more do you need?" His father and brother didn't have a chance.

"Shut your mouth, Sam. You've already disappointed me enough today." The demon put up a mental gag and looked at the two hunters sprawled out on the floor in front of him, narrowing his eyes. "Well, if it isn't Papa Winchester and his perfect little soldier, Dean."

The demon laughed, the black of its eyes flooded out Sam's innocent hazel and focused on John. He walked over to where the hunter had fallen, picked up the tranq gun in passing, and hefted it in his hand. "Such a nice little toy, John. You hunters are getting high tech these days." He lifted an eyebrow as he looked it over then looked back at the eldest Winchester. "Good idea, too. It may have just worked…but you need to move faster than that."

"You quit your goddamn mumbo-jumbo shit and go head-on with me, I'll show you a few moves," Dean muttered defiantly under his breath from the floor. He was still trying to get his legs under him, but some unseen demonic force was keeping him in place.

The demon turned toward Dean and tilted its head from side to side, cracking its neck. "You need to be quiet," Cal said with a snarl. Suddenly, he raised a hand and the hunter felt his throat constricting. Dean began to gasp for air, not being able to breathe, as he was choked by an unseen hand.

"Enough!" John yelled from where he was being held against the wall. It was all too disturbing watching Sam doing that to Dean, even if John knew it wasn't really Sam. "What do you want?"

The demon's eyes snapped back to John. "What do I want? Really? Why, I want your heads on a platter, John, along with every other hunter out there." Cal took a few steps toward the man. He finally let his hand drop to his side and Dean slumped over, taking in deep lungfuls of air.

"I have plans for your boy, and this," he gestured behind him at the dead hunters lying on the floor, "is the only the beginning." His lip curled into a sneer. "Me and little Sammy, we're going hunting."

Cal crossed his arms and a deep-dimpled, all-too-familiar smile appeared on his face as he began to pace between the two Winchesters. "I was thinking about ripping your hearts out while Sam watched, but it'll be so much more interesting keeping you alive…for the time-being anyway. You'll be able to witness your fellow hunters dropping by your son's own hand. And Sam? He'll be there for all of it and he'll keep breaking…piece by piece. I'm sure you can tell, he's already not who he was. But rest assured, I'll stop by and say hello when I've had my fill, maybe even let you see your little Sammy then…what's left of him anyway." The demon snickered. "We can discuss the future of the Winchesters then."

"Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" Dean said through clenched teeth as he continued to fight against the demon's hold. He wasn't going to give up that easily. "When I find your sorry ass, and don't think I won't-"

"Dean, don't," John warned.

"Good advice, Dean. You better listen to your Daddy. It could save your life." The demon's eyes moved around the room, finally locking onto something near the younger hunter. "Well, I'd like to stay and chat, but I have some other places I'd much rather be, doing things I'd much rather be doing. And I can't have you two following me, so," he gestured at something above Dean and a deep groan echoed in the room, "stay awhile, won't you?"

A metal shipping frame wobbled under the demon's influence and shifted. Dean had just enough time to look up before it fell on him. He screamed out in pain as his leg was crushed beneath it. "Mother fucking, son of a bitch! So help me…," Dean ground out through gritted teeth.

"John, have fun digging your little soldier out of that one. I'll be seeing you around, I'm sure." The demon winked at the two men and made his way to the door, but he stopped mid-stride and turned around. "Oh, and this," he waved the tranq gun in the air, "can't let this go to waste now, can we?" He aimed the gun at John and pulled the trigger.

John grunted and bit into his bottom lip as the small dart pierced the muscle of his upper thigh. He knew it would be only moments before he lost consciousness. Shit. He watched as the demon chucked the gun off to the side and walked out the door. John slumped over, unconscious, almost before the door closed.

Dean groaned and tried to move. It just wasn't going to happen. "Well, this just sucks."

The demon had dropped the gag on Sam when he left the warehouse. "Where are we going? You can't just leave them there like that!" Sam kept wanting to look back over his shoulder, not able to get Dean's agonized scream out of his mind. God, he hoped his brother's leg wasn't crushed. But there was nothing he could do now.

Cal ignored him as he walked up to a silver, late-model pick-up truck, opened the door, and got in. The keys were already in the ignition; he reached over and started the vehicle up. "They're not really your concern anymore, Sam. You should be more worried about yourself now." He backed the truck up, shifted into drive, and steered out onto the road. "How's east sound?"

The pain in Dean's leg was excruciating; his whole body was trembling as the heat of it worked its way up his side. The only good thing was that he could still wiggle his toes; he didn't think the limb was broken, thank God. Dean was also able to move the rest of his body now. Once the demon had left the building, the force holding him immobile disappeared. He guessed it was the same for his father as well.

"Dad…," he called out. He wasn't expecting an answer and predictably didn't get one. Dean rested his head back against the machine behind him. He was going to have to wait until his father woke up. The frame holding him down was too heavy to lift and Dean couldn't risk crushing his leg by playing around with it, so he left it alone. He had to hand it to the demon, he sure knew how to keep them from running out the door after him.

More than a handful of uncomfortable minutes ticked by. Dean found out early on that he needed to stay still. Just one small movement of his leg earlier had caused the metal frame to shift slightly, and not in a good way either. He found himself thinking about Sam and how his brother had practically begged their father to kill him. The kid wasn't going to last under the demon's influence for long; Dean knew that, probably more than their dad did. What the hell were they gonna do? "Sammy," he said quietly to himself, "hang in there."

Something told Dean tracking his brother's phone wasn't going to work anymore. So now they had to track and find Sam (Who knew how they were going to do that?) and then they had to figure out how to get his brother out of his bind. Dean had a feeling they were going to be making a trip to Bobby's in the very near future. The man knew symbols. Christ, the man knew just about everything about anything supernatural; he'd know what the brand on Sam's side would mean. Hopefully, he'd know how to get rid of the damn thing as well.

After a while, Dean tried calling out to John again. "Hey, Dad, wake up."

Nothing.

John was slowly coming back to consciousness. He tried to lift his head from where it hung down to his chest, but it felt like dead weight. "Dad…" Dean was calling him. He blinked his eyes and forced his head upright. He groaned. Damn tranq left him with a killer headache.

Everything was a blur; he closed his eyes and pressed thumb and forefinger into his eyelids, trying to force clarity back into them. When he opened his eyes again, he could see Dean still sitting on the floor across the room, pinned down by the metal framework the demon had dumped over onto him earlier.

"How long?" he mumbled; it felt like his mouth was full of cotton and John wasn't sure how clear the words came out, but Dean seemed to understand him.

"A little over a half hour. I guess it's a good thing you didn't load that sucker up, huh?" Dean gave a half-smile as he mentioned the tranq dart. If they had filled it completely like his dad had originally wanted to do, John would have been out for hours. Only because Dean held his ground did the man back off and lower the dose.

Dean's leg had gone numb almost fifteen minutes ago and he still hadn't decided on whether that was a good thing or not. "Think you might be able to get this thing off me?"

"Yeah, just give me a second." John was trying to get up to his feet, but his legs weren't cooperating yet; he reached out to the wall to hold himself up.

John's second turned into a few minutes before he felt he was able to step away from the support of the wall. He started walking around, albeit a little unsteadily, looking for something to use as leverage to lift the frame from Dean's leg. "Is it broken?" he asked as he searched.

"Nah, just hurts like a bitch. Might need one of those miracle pills you got though."

John eventually came back with a long metal bar. "Alright, Dean. As soon as I lift, you get the hell out from under that thing." He shoved the bar under the end of the frame closest to Dean's leg and lifted with a grunt. It hardly budged, but it was enough. "Move it, Dean! Now!"

Dean quickly backpedaled out from under the frame. Just as he was about to clear it, John lost his grip and it fell back to the floor with a loud CLANG! It clipped the toe of Dean's boot, but he was far enough out from under it that that was all it did. He massaged his leg, trying to get circulation back into it. "Remind me not to piss off a demon again," he groaned out as the pins-and-needles feeling started up. But, oh yeah, that was supposed to be a good thing, right?

John ignored the comment. Dean's quips came in abundance these days and the elder Winchester had learned to ignore them early on. "Can you stand?"

"Just give me some time, Dad. You didn't just have a couple hundred pounds of playground equipment come crashing down on you," Dean grumbled. He didn't know why, but the frame had somehow reminded Dean of a jungle gym.

The younger hunter took a deep, steadying breath and got his good leg under him. Not only did he have a fucked up right ankle, but now his right leg was screwed up, too. He gingerly allowed his weight to settle down on the injured leg and winced. Yeah, maybe it wasn't broken, but holy crap it hurt.

"Well?" John asked impatiently as he stood over him.

"I'll live. Just give me a hand getting out to the car," Dean said with an air of defeat.

The demon took Sam's phone out of his pocket. The first thing he did was shut the GPS down and lock out any third parties from gaining access to the phone remotely. Sam was amazed at how deftly the demon handled his phone, but then he remembered, the demon could pull anything he wanted from his mind, including how to work his phone. (It was a scary thought and Sam wondered what else the demon had picked from his brain.)

Cal brought up Sam's contact list next. The hunter watched him scroll through it; so many names and faces came to mind; they were all in danger. There were at least a dozen hunters listed, people he knew because of his dad or Bobby.

"How about Rick Bowman? That sounds like a good one to start with. He's got a Wyoming number, so he's on our way. Let's see what he's up to." Cal dialed Rick's number and waited.

Less than ten minutes later, the demon had set up a meeting with Rick under the false pretense of a hunt, something about a haunting somewhere. They were to meet in Riverton the next evening.

"Now that that's all set, I suppose I'll find somewhere to lock you down when we get to Wyoming. You're gonna need your rest. I can't risk you getting sick on me. But we have a little pit stop to make on the way. We can't forget that. I have a promise to keep."

Sam remained quiet not knowing what the demon had meant by that, but he shivered nonetheless. The bastard was evil; that he knew all too well. He let himself drift, deep in thought, trying to figure out how to get himself out of this, but he really couldn't come up with anything that would work, not as long as Cal was keeping him company.

It was a while before John and Dean could leave the warehouse. John took on the gruesome task of picking up after the demon, refusing to leave until it was done. He dug a shallow grave and salt-and-burned the three hunters as Dean watched, his injured leg not allowing him to stand for very long. How many more times were they going to have to do this before they caught up with that damn demon?

John said a silent prayer for Lee and his men after he tossed the last shovel of dirt on top of the grave. He wiped the sweat from his forehead before picking a bottle of water up from the ground and taking a long draught from it. He never liked doing this stuff during the day, but today he had no choice. Then again, he never liked doing this stuff. After he was done, he went back to the car where Dean was waiting for him.

"You think you can drive?" he asked as he put the canister of rock salt, empty gas container, and shovel back into the trunk and closed the lid.

"If I need to, yeah."

"Well, you need to," John said as he retrieved his duffel from the backseat of the Impala. "I'm taking Lee's car back to Stanford. I need to get my truck. I want you to high-tail it out to Bobby's. There's a few things I need to talk to him about so I'll let him know you're on the way. I hate to admit it, but I think we're going to need his help."

John looked up at the warehouse and eyed a security camera mounted high up on the wall. He remembered noticing a truck in the lot when they got there, but hadn't thought to give it a second glance as they ran into the warehouse. It was gone now. More than likely, it was the vehicle the demon was currently using to get around in. If Bobby could work on getting the plate number from the security system, they'd have a good chance at finding Sam.

"But what about Sam? Are we just gonna let him go?"

"I'm working on that, Dean. Look." He pointedly looked up at the camera as he said the words and Dean glanced up at it, things clicking into place. "But even if we caught up with him right now, what would we do? We have to find out what that brand means first. I know it's not what you want to hear, but Sam's a big boy; he'll have to figure out how to pull through this until we can get to him. He's a smart kid and he knows we won't give up."

"Wouldn't it be something if he just pulled some miracle out of his ass?" Dean smiled, knowing it wasn't impossible. Sam had done some things in the past that had amazed even him.

"You never know. He is your brother." John allowed himself the hint of a smile as he adjusted the duffel on his shoulder. "Alright, time to get moving. I'll be in touch. Make sure you rest up some along the way. I know you want to find Sam and finish this thing, we both do, but I don't want you falling asleep at the wheel either."

"Sure, Dad. You, too." Dean watched John as he walked up to an older Crown Vic and got in. He nodded at the man when his father looked back at him before pulling the Impala's driver's side door open and sliding into the warm leather seat. He had at least a day and a half of driving ahead of him. His leg was going to be feeling awesome.

As Dean settled in and started the engine, the thought occurred to him that today was Sam's birthday. "Happy friggin' birthday, Sammy." They'd both had some shitty birthdays, but Dean figured this one topped the list.

Shifting into drive, Dean pulled out onto the road and began the long trip to Sioux Falls. "Fucking demons," he grumbled.

Cal had let Sam stay around for the trip to Wyoming, but the hunter had mentally nodded off. Sam noticed that they had started their journey in Oregon from the license plates on the other cars and from the signs posted along the roads and highway. If he remembered correctly, Wyoming was something like eighteen or so hours out. He had decided to get some rest, or at least try to.

When he awoke, they were still on the road and it looked to be midday. He eyed passing signs on the highway. One for Elko, Nevada went by. That meant that they were close to the Utah border. Sam must have been more tired than he thought, or Cal had kept him under. There was no way for him to know for sure.

Cal sensed Sam was awake. "I'm starting to remember why I don't take up residence in the same meatsuit for too long. The living have too many needs. I've had to pull over and piss three times now, and your damn stomach won't let me forget you need to eat."

"Well, you can always leave," Sam snapped back sarcastically.

"Sorry, it'll take more than hunger to get me to leave. Nice try though." Cal smiled and looked in the rearview mirror at himself, at Sam.

Sam saw the demonic, black orbs looking back at him from the mirror. It creeped him out…more than just a little. Other things had changed, too, small things about the way Cal held himself compared to Sam. His features looked more angular, harsher, for one; Sam was always so easy-going and rarely, if ever, looked so cruel. He also saw, for the first time, how drained he looked. If he survived this, it would be a miracle, even if Cal didn't kill him outright.

"Don't worry, Sam. I'll feed and water you soon, let you get that rest I promised. We're a team," he smiled wickedly as he said the word, "and we'll get you back in tiptop shape before you know it. Why don't you rest a little while longer."

Sam was gone again.

Scared whimpers filled Sam's ears when he was yanked out of the warmth and safety of the darkness deep within his mind. When he saw what was going on, he was immediately jolted back to reality. "Jesus Christ! What-"

There was a woman under him; she was no hunter. Cal was straddling her and holding her wrists tightly above her head on the ground with one hand. "This is your punishment, Sam. Or did you forget? You got in my way with those hunters this morning, tried to keep me from killing them." He leaned over and dragged his tongue up the woman's cheek. She turned her head and cried out. "Every time you try to get in my way, I'm going to take an innocent's life. You'll learn quickly, I'm certain of it."

"No! I promise I won't do it again. Just don't hurt her, please." Sam twisted and writhed, fought and pushed, but he didn't get anywhere. The demon wouldn't budge.

Cal smiled at Sam's unsuccessful attempts to push him aside. "There you go with the whole 'please' thing again. You're so polite, Sammy. But it's too late. If I give in now, you're gonna expect it each and every time. I need to show you what will happen when you're naughty." He ran the fingers of his free hand up through the woman's hair and then gripped her tightly. In the next instant, he slammed her head into the ground and she went silent.

"What are you gonna do to her?" Sam could only watch.

"Oh, I have plans. I'll wake you when I'm ready."

Then darkness…

"Oh, Saaaammm… Knock, knock. We're just waiting on you to join the party."

Sam came to. He couldn't tell where they were. Wherever it was, there wasn't much light and it was musty smelling. A basement maybe? In front of him, the woman from earlier was stripped naked and was suspended from a beam high up on the ceiling by her wrists. He could hear nothing more than her muffled screams because of the dirty rag stuffed down her throat.

Sam wanted to tell her it would be okay, that he would save her, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He could feel the evil leer on his face as Cal looked the woman over from head to toe slowly, making sure Sam could see what was going on. The hunter kept quiet not wanting to give the demon the satisfaction.

"I know you're there, Sam. If you don't want to talk, that's fine, but you're going to watch. Next time, you'll remember to behave yourself."

A knife flashed by Sam's peripheral vision. He saw the girl attempt to pull herself away, but she was suspended high enough above the ground that her toes barely touched the floor; she had nowhere to go. Her eyes flew open in pain and she screamed behind the gag as the first slash of the knife came down.

"Oh, God. No! You gotta stop this. Please…" Cal made sure to remain focused on girl's pain-filled eyes as he proceeded to cut into her; the hunter could only watch. "I'm so sorry." Sam wished she knew how sorry he was.