A/N: First of all, thank you everyone for your kind and supportive reviews! I really appreciate each and every one of them. They all have made me feel better about this story.

I've rewritten this chapter so many times I've lost count but having pneumonia and all I really don't have the energy to be my usual perfectionist self. So I decided to just post this as it is and hope for the best. I'm sure some reviews will help with my breathing so please give me your honest thoughts and views on this chapter. Maybe I'll get better sooner.

On a side note, I went crazy with the Ricks and the Deans in this chapter also. It's still only one person though – Dean. And Sam saying Drerek instead of Derek was an intentional mistake, as was baby Sam's You is mean.

- Kel

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CHAPTER FOUR

"From Childhood's hour I have not been

As others were; I have not seen

As others saw; I could not bring

My passion from a common spring

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow; I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone;

And all I loved, I loved alone." -- Edgar Allan Poe, 'Alone'

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

DEAN

Dean pulled on his jeans jacket with a small shiver. It was late afternoon and it was getting colder outside, the air was crisp, chilly, and not welcome at all. Soccer practice had just ended and Dean and Kyle were still out on the field waiting for a couple of friends to pick them up.

Kyle was in a good mood, what with the cold weather and all, and was kicking around a football gleefully.

"I like that kid," Kyle announced, "He's a damn good shot." Kyle was talking about Sam. They had practised penalty kicks with the team today and Sam had made quite an impression on them all - especially Kyle.

-----

Daniel placed the ball at the spot inside the penalty area; setting it up for Sam's fifth and final penalty shot. He nodded for Sam to advance and Sam charged for the ball. The shot was taken with the instep of his foot, like he'd been taught to do earlier, and aimed at the centre of the goal. It was a hard kick, and an impressive shot…

"Ouch!" Kyle exclaimed painfully from the sideline, his hand shooting up to cover his eyes. Dean and the rest of the team gasped in unison beside him. The ball had hit Tim, the goalie, right in the crown jewels again. Tim dropped to his knees, lips parted in a painful hiss as he covered his private parts with shaking hands.

"Shit!" Kyle breathed in Dean's ear, barely able to hide the amusement in his voice, "That has got to hurt."

Dean looked on as Sam ran up to Tim to apologize. But Tim who was still cupping certain parts, eyes closed from the pain he was in, didn't seem to acknowledge his presence.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…," Sam said, blushing. He squatted down beside Tim, looking guilty as hell, touching Tim's shoulder lightly. Tim merely grunted in response and shoved him away. He was pissed. And who wouldn't be after having just been hit in the nuts by a football three times in an hour.

Sam's quite stellar performance of 'The Nutcracker' had taken up most of practice. All five of his penalty kicks had missed their marks and instead rushed up to kiss Tim, first smack in the face and then in that certain place that had brought great agony to all of them.

-----

"You're just happy he got Tim in the balls," Dean said with a smirk, because he was actually quite pleased himself. They had never been fans of the Belton family. Tim's older brother Paul Belton was their age and had played on the same team. He was a regular jock – and a total brat and a complete asshole and he was the reason Dean couldn't play soccer anymore. So watching Sam literally kick the crap out of Paul's younger brother had brought both Dean and Kyle great satisfaction - albeit, a quiet one and on the inside.

Kyle neighed. "And you aren't!?" Dean shook his head at him, but he was laughing and his eyes twinkled.

"Yo!" Their friend Michael surprised them both. He slapped Kyle in the back and swung an arm around his neck swiftly, putting him in a headlock. "You girls done here or what?"

"Shit, man! Get off me…" Kyle demanded and let out a soft grunt. The arm around his neck was choking him. Michael ignored him and shook hands with Dean.

"Rick, my man! Good to see you."

Michael was three years older than Dean and Kyle. He played soccer as well and had lived next door to the Ritter family before going pro and moving to Seattle. Now he played in the A-league for the Seattle Sounders and wasn't home much.

"Mike," Dean greeted, "How are you?"

"Fine, just fine." Michael ruffled Kyle's hair and let him go. As soon as Kyle had caught his breath he smacked Michael in the head. "Jackass!" he exclaimed and ran his fingers over his dark hair.

Michael chuckled and slid a hand into his pocket, grubbing around for something. He smiled when his fingers closed around his car keys and he pulled them out. He chucked them in Kyle's direction. "Stop bitchin' and go start the car."

Kyle caught the keys and rolled his eyes at Mike. "Dude, do I look like a fuckin' valet?"

Right then Sam blasted through the doors of the school, hair still wet from the shower, his steps hurried. He seemed nervous and his sports bag was unzipped; a towel hanging out from the bag, dragging behind him.

"And enter Sandman," Dean said, his eyes shifting to Kyle, "Your hero is here."

Kyle turned and saw Sam half running towards them. He smiled appreciatively.

"Hey, you!" he yelled. Sam looked over his shoulder as if he thought Kyle was talking to someone else. "No, you kid," Kyle shouted. He obviously had no idea what Sam's name was.

"His name's Sam," Dean pointed out helpfully.

"Sam, get over here!" Kyle yelled. Sam hesitated for a moment but then walked up to them. Kyle threw an arm around him and shook him. "Great shots today, Scooby!"

Sam looked stunned, and just a little offended. "What?" he mumbled, eyes wandering from Kyle to Dean who was obviously the saner one of the two, "I missed every shot…"

Dean and Kyle exchanged amused looks and Dean shook his head. "No, you bulls eyed every one of them."

"And therefore, kid, you're invited to a party," Kyle declared.

Michael stepped forward to get a better look at the lanky boy before him. "Who's the kid?"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

SAM

"Give me that!" Dean pried the beer bottle from Derek's fingers and put it back on the coffee table. "Stupid, can't you see he's had enough already?"

Rick's voice sounded cotton-laced in Sam's ears and the words got jumbled in his sluggish mind. His lanky, 13 year old stature swayed and he smiled to them. "Yeah, enough already, Drerek, and give Stupid the beer." His voice was cottony too and Sam giggled at the sound of it. Rick shot him a weird look and Derek laughed.

Sam laughed a bubbly laugh and swayed forward to pick up the bottle but Rick caught his arm and pulled him down on the couch. "Sit down Sasquatch, before you fall down," he said.

Sam giggled. "You talk funny."

They were at Dean's friend Derek's house having a few to celebrate the Seattle Sounders' A-league championship title. Michael's team had won 2-0 against the debuting New York team Rochester Raging Rhinos and his older team mates had supplied him with a couple of beer crates to celebrate the occasion. And being the good friend he was, Michael was more than happy to celebrate his team's success with his 17 year old buddies and Sam - even if it meant handing out beer to a group of under aged kids. Dean hadn't had any though; he never did, because if he got caught at home smelling of alcohol there'd be hell to pay. His buddies didn't know that. They all thought he was a teetotaller and were just happy that there was a self-proclaimed 'designated' driver among them.

"Rick, what's with the attitude, man," a blond guy called out. He was playing Nintendo 64 with Kyle. "You got a stick up your ass or something?"

"Shut up, Josh!" Rick shot back, but he didn't stop Sam as he reached for the beer bottle again.

Sam gulped down a couple of more swallows until his stomach lurched in protest. He put the bottle down with an unsteady hand and belched loudly. He felt the bile rise in his throat and swallowed against it. Come to think of it, he wasn't feeling too hot and the cottony sounds around him were suddenly not so cottony anymore. He winced as the other guys' voices rang in his ears. Their loud screaming and cheering made him sick to his stomach and he felt like he had to puke. He tapped Rick on the shoulder desperately. "Where's the bath…room," he slurred once he caught his attention.

Rick cast a concerned glance at him and nodded towards a door to their left. Sam got up quickly and made his way towards the bathroom on shaky legs. He was already tasting stomach acid and so he didn't even bother to shut the bathroom door before falling to his knees and puking into the toilet. The others heard his helpless retching and exchanged knowing glances - their first times had ended pretty much the same way. Dean rose to his feet and walked up to the open door.

"You okay in there?" he asked, almost gagging from the strong smell of vomit. He didn't want to peek inside. The response was a weak gurgle of no. And then; "I want to go home."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dean glanced at Sam who was leaning against the car window with his eyes closed. He'd been standing at the side of the road puking his guts out only minutes before. Dean sure hoped the puke fest was over for the time being. He wasn't feeling well himself and he wasn't sure how much more he could take of that awful smell.

"You with me Sam?" he asked softly.

Sam stirred and scratched at his nose. "Mmm. But I don't feel so good."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well…who does?" He parked Mike's car behind Sam's mother's red Jaguar and got out. His gaze locked on the Jaguar almost immediately and he looked at it with admiration before helping Sam out of the car. Sam gratefully leaned on him, letting Dean take most of his weight.

"Are your parents home?" Dean asked, "Anyone that can take care of you?"

Sam yawned and then pointed to the garage. "Tina lives in the apartment on top of the garage," he said, "She won't get mad."

"Who's Tina?"

Sam rested his head on Dean's shoulder as they walked. They were so close he could take in the older boy's scent. Rick is a nice guy and he sure smells good, Sam thought, and in his drunken mind he wondered if it was actually possible for someone to be that perfect.

"Hey!" Dean shook him back to reality. "Who's Tina?"

Sam had to think about that for a moment before he remembered. "Oh!" he exclaimed in a lit-light-bulb fashion, "She's our maid." He was swaying again and Dean fastened his hold on him.

"You have a maid?" He wasn't surprised though. Sam lived in a fancy neighbourhood, and the huge house and the Jaguar in the driveway screamed money.

"Uh-huh," Sam professed unhappily and looked at Dean with sad puppy eyes. "Do you hate me now? Because I don't want you to hate me…" Rick seemed genuinely confused, he registered.

"Why would I hate you?"

Sam snorted softly and then slurred sleepily; "Because I'm a rich brat."

"Yeah, what else is new," Dean said and smiled teasingly. It was obvious though from Sam's hurt look that he didn't find it very amusing. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Sam," he said seriously, "I don't give a shit if you're rich. And I don't think you're a brat. Okay?"

Sam sniffed. "Okay."

"Okay."

Dean helped Sam up the spiral staircase to the small apartment that was the second floor of the garage. He propped him up against the wall and rang the door bell. A couple of minutes later a young woman dressed in a blue bathrobe opened the door. It took her a moment to notice Sam but when she did and saw the state he was in; the yelling began.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

JOHN

'This wasn't supposed to happen,' John thought frantically as he carried his children through the dark forest. 'They were supposed to stay in the car and lock the doors!'

Tears burned the back of his eyes as he glanced at his oldest son whose unconscious body was so badly bruised his skin was almost black. 'What the hell happened?! I was only gone for ten minutes.'

Sam was crying and hugging his neck tightly, his tears an outlet for both their pain. But Dean was still where he hung across John's shoulder. Deathly still. 'Please God, don't let him die…'

John sighed with relief once he saw the Impala in the soft moonlight, the light reflecting off of the black hood. He put Sam down and told him to get the blanket from the backseat. Still crying, Sam toddled off to carry out the order. Once he'd returned with the blanket John wrapped it around Dean and laid him down gently in the back. He grabbed Sam and carried him to the passenger seat.

"Samuel, what happened?" he asked as he fastened his son's seat belt.

Sam cried and tried to pull away. "Dean," he sobbed, "Sammy wants Dean."

John grabbed his flailing arms and shook him. "What happened? Tell me what happened!"

Sam screamed and tried to fight him off. "You is mean!" He twisted around to look at Dean and started crying again. John slammed the door shut and ran over to the driver side. He got in and turned the ignition with a trembling hand. Whatever had happened out there, it wasn't good. He pulled the car out onto the road and sped off.

-----

Dean, who had come to on their way to the hospital, was pulled away from him as soon as he carried him inside the ER. And then Sam about an hour later, when Dean was in surgery. John was told that the cuts on Sam's face needed medical attention and he accepted it because he didn't want his sons hurt or in pain. But after an hour had passed and they still hadn't returned with his youngest he started to worry.

He didn't know that his 3 year old son had just told the doctors that John had hurt Dean. And he didn't know how detailed a story a 3 year old could tell when it really mattered.

Sam told the doctors that daddy tried to hurt him and that Dean had saved them both. Sam didn't know any better. He didn't know what a shape shifter was.

-----

"Please, no!" His cries were accompanied by Sam's loud sobs and Dean's desperate gasps as he tried to reach him.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaad!" Dean sounded scared.

'This shouldn't be happening. Not to us, not again.'

NOT AGAIN!

John woke up from his own scream. Gasping for air, he looked around the room in panic. Where were his boys?

And then he saw the woman at his side – the blonde CPS worker he'd been going out with for over a year - and suddenly everything came back to him. He slumped back against the headboard and closed his eyes, willing his wildly beating heart to slow down.

Today… Today, she'd get him the information he needed. Today, he'd finally know where his sons were.

TBC

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