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John had taught his sons everything he knew in order to protect them … if only he had realized it wasn't a demon that would take his youngest from him. Limp!Sam!Whumpage and Dean and John Angst aplenty!

God, if I owned them the summer break would be longer … cause I'd be having fun with my boys!!!!

Please note that I have not been to any of the places mentioned (except in Chapter Two, I have been to Asheville, NC and Clarion, IA … exciting, eh?) so the street names and such are of my imagination.

Thanks so much for the awesome reviews I am getting! It means the absolute world!

I must apologize for the EXTREME delay in getting this chapter out. I have done what I hate, and that is taking forever in updating. I have to blame life and a horrid string of bad luck for the last two weeks. I'm not sure it is getting better, but I will try and have an update in a week. Let's hope I can fulfill that promise.

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"Pastor Jim … ?"

"Yes … who's calling?"

"It's Sam."

"Oh my Lord, Sam! Where are you, child?"

"I'm with … "

"Who the hell are you talking to, Boy?"

"No one, I just … "

"Sam … "

"And how in the hell did you get out? I swear, I leave you alone for five minutes and you figure a way out!! What am I gonna do with you, huh?"

"Get away from me, you bastard!"

"SAM!!!"

There was the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh before the line went dead, leaving Father Jim Murphy standing there, speechless as the phone made that God-awful noise that it does when the line has been disconnected but is still off the hook.

Blinking away his shock, he quickly hung up and hit 69 to recall the number. As the phone rang Jim Murphy did the only thing he could … he prayed.

"Fast Lane Motel…"

Jim blinked at the name, but discounted it rather quickly; this was neither the time nor the place to be wondering about names.

"Excuse me, but my name is Father Jim Murphy, and I was wondering …"

"Oh I'm sure we have girls that could do that Father, we have girls for everything."

Paling, Jim loosened his collar and shook his head.

"No, I need to know if there is a young boy there, Sam, he's 14, with a man."

Jim could hear gum cracking in the background, the sound of a pencil tapping, and God knows the sound of one brain cell slowly cranking to work.

"Yeah, seems I do recall a kid … came in with his Uncle … said he was gonna make the boy a man…"

Laughter echoed into the line, but Jim was quick to cut her off.

"Where are you?"

"End of Main Street, right passed Echo Ridge."

"No, what I mean is, what city and state?"

"Roswell, Georgia … on the outskirts of town."

Jim hung up the phone and quickly called the number John Winchester had given him.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dean, is your dad there?"

"Pastor Jim? No, Dad and Caleb are out checking on a lead and …"

"I found him!"

"Found … Sam?"

"He's in Roswell, Georgia in a place called The Fast Lane Motel."

"How … ? I don't … ?"

"Something's wrong Dean. Someone was with him, and by the sounds of things Sam was not supposed to call. You, your dad, and Caleb need to get there and fast."

The line went dead and Pastor Jim was left standing there, cradling the phone for a minute before disconnecting and dialing again.

"Hey, Bobby, it's Jim … "

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"You are so gonna pay for that boy!"

It had been two weeks after leaving Fred and Maureen Barber that Sam had been able to sneak and use the phone. Two. Weeks. Days where he had been locked in a motel bathroom. Nights where he had been tied to a chair.

But Sam was a smart kid. A kid who knew when to bide his time, and despite the fact that he was as terrified of 'Jeff' as he had been of Fred Barber, Sam was raised by John Winchester, so he knew that everything, no matter how terrifying, could be killed if given the right ammunition. So Sam waited it out, waited until Jeff left him locked in a bathroom and left the motel to jimmy the lock.

Sometimes it paid to be brought up like a criminal.

Unfortunately for Sam, Jeff had forgotten something and caught him in the midst of his phone call. The back of his hand sprang across Sam's face, sending the teen backward with impact, and a muffled groan escaping his lips before he could stop it.

"Who were you calling?"

"No one."

Jeff moved in, again hitting the youth across the face … unlike Fred Barber, Jeff cared little if the marks he left were seen or not, they never stayed anywhere long enough to be noticed, and Sam was never out where anyone could see him anyway.

"You little bastard, who?!"

Sam coughed and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, not in the least surprised to see it come away bloody. Lifting his gaze to his current tormentor, something inside Sam snapped. Something in his Winchester blood just screamed out his stubborn pride and he smirked.

"The cops you sorry sonofabitch! And they are coming to arrest your sorry ass!"

The third hit to his face nearly left Sam in that black void, but before he could fully fall into that blissful nothingness, he was hauled to his feet and shoved toward the door.

"Just wait until we stop again, Sam, I'll really teach you a lesson!"

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Sam knew about lessons.

John Winchester had taught Sam lessons. His lessons usually entailed a stern talking to when he was younger (that's all it really took for a young Sam to feel contrite), to lessons of the more physical kind when he was older … usually in way of laps around this field or that, extra target practice, longer sparring matches with Dean. Something that made Sam see the error of his ways. All Sam really learned was how to survive in a world of ghosts and demons.

Then there was Fred Barber's lessons … lessons that came whether Sam had done anything wrong or not. Because you couldn't really count snorting at someone wrong enough to have the shit beat out of you, could you? His lessons were physical and violent … coming hard and fast before Sam could even brace for them. Those lessons taught Sam that not all monsters are dead … oh but they should be.

And finally there was Jeff. Jeff who Sam had thought was a nice guy trying to help a kid out. Jeff with no last name that Sam knew (not that Jeff knew Sam's either, for he'd refused to share no matter the cost!) who spoke in whispers on the phone when he thought Sam was asleep or was in the bathroom. Jeff who hit Sam for no reason. Sam had begun to think that there was no rhyme or reason to Jeff other than to instill fear in Sam.

Maybe it was that fear that had Sam remembering his father's lessons. "Don't let your opportunities slip away Sam, always look at every angle."

When Sam got into the SUV, for once, Jeff wasn't right there at the door shoving him in. For once Jeff wasn't breathing down his neck. He was too worried about cops showing up to take precaution, and Sam didn't let that opportunity slip to flip the child safety lock on the door as he got in and pulled it shut.

"I hope you're satisfied, you little shit!"

Sam just looked at him indifferently, his Winchester game face firmly in place.

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"Hey, John, it's me…"

"Joshua? Did you get him? How is … "

"He's not here."

"What do you mean, he's not there? You were the closest one, you weren't but an hour away, how could he not be there?"

"Whoever has Sam must have gotten wise, Johnny. The motel manager said he never even checked out, they were just … gone."

"Did you get a tag number? Anything?"

"Not even the direction they were heading. I'm sorry, John."

Nodding as if Joshua could see, John placed the motel phone back into the cradle and let out a deep breath as shaky fingers raked through his uncombed hair. How could he have let this happen? Sam slipped through his fingers three times now, and each time it left John feeling worse about the words he shared with his youngest just before the whole thing started.

"Well, Sammy, sometimes I hate you too."

He ignored the look Dean was giving him, ignored everything as he slumped onto the motel bed, settled his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands.

"We lost him … again."

The words finally came muffled, the words of the mighty John Winchester's defeat once again. And he could feel it … the death stare of his eldest boring down on him. He tried very hard to ignore it, tried to pretend Dean wasn't giving him the Winchester glare of death, but finally he looked up and sighed.

"Quit looking at me like that, Dean."

"Why? So you can wallow in self pity some more?"

"What?"

Anger had started to replace that feeling of despair at the way Dean was speaking to him, so his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he stared right back to his son.

John just didn't have the petulance to master that death glare thing though.

"You know what! Get off your ass, quit feeling sorry for yourself, and let's find Sam!"

"We don't even know where to start …"

"Roswell!"

"Joshua is there, Sam isn't, he's just gone."

"Dad, if this was a hunt, would you give up because the ghost disappeared?"

"No, but this is different, Dean, this isn't a hunt, it's … "

"Isn't it? Cause the way I see it, Dad, this is a hunt, our prey just isn't the typical salt and burn type."

Realization seemed to hit John Winchester all at once, and he nodded before rising and moving to the phone to dial.

"Hey, Joshua, it's John again. Hey, I want you to check all the roads leading out of Roswell. Check the gas stations and diners for any kid around Sam's age. Call me if you find anything … "

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They were somewhere near Atlanta when luck finally came Sam Winchester's way in way of a traffic jam. As traffic on the highway came to a dead halt, Jeff glanced over and glared.

"Don't even thinking about yelling for help!"

Sam just sat there, even closed his eyes feigning sleep as his arm shifted ever so slightly to hover over the seatbelt. He could feel Jeff's stare, but ignored it, just sat there until it finally shifted.

"If this damn traffic ever lets up, we'll be there soon."

"Where are we going?"

Jeff didn't even glance over as Sam spoke in a tone that said he didn't really care, he was feigning indifference, and Jeff seemed to buy into it.

"You let me worry about that, Sam. You should be worried about what happens when we get there."

He finger moved, clicking the seatbelt latch, though the weight of his hand kept it in place even as it unlocked.

"My dad really is looking for me…"

"Yeah, and I'm really Elvis … back from the dead."

Sam glanced over and looked Jeff over with indifference, the impact of his fist on Sam's face obvious now as the bruises shown through on his cheek and jaw.

"You know what we do to unwanted ghosts?"

Jeff smirked rolled his eyes as if the very idea of listening to Sam (no matter what he was saying) was idiotic.

"No, kid, what?"

"We salt and burn them."

Jeff snorted and was about to reply when the door clicked and swung open. Before he even registered what was happening, Sam was taking off out of the car, his path up the car littered highway. Hard training was rewarded with Sam's agility to snake around cars without losing much speed; an action that had Jeff's angry shout lost amongst the throng of horn blasts and one angry shout as Sam trampled over the roof of a stopped car.

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"John Winchester."

"You watching?"

"Watching what?"

They were staying in some small motel room off the highway in another place in the middle of somewhere that Sam was not. Already reaching for the remote, the eldest Winchester tucked the phone between ear and shoulder as he flipped the power on the television with the press of a button.

"News Channel."

Flipping up until he came to the scene of a huge traffic jam, John stared a minute, and was about to ask Bobby why he'd have him watch something so mundane when the woman's story switched gears.

"… in what was thought to have been a run of the mill accident that blocked traffic on the interstate for a five mile stretch now has police baffled as the scene unfolded into something far more than a fender bender as this boy … "

John drowned out the woman's words as the sight of Sam was seen racing over cars and across traffic toward the end of a stretch of road that was apparently a bridge. Police were seen running from one side, and a man giving chase on the other had his boy zigzagging across cars until finally he was at the steel rails of the bridge. John watched in horror as Sam … his Sam climbed over and jumped off the bridge just as the police were about to grab his arm.

"Holy shit … "

And the phone dropped to the floor as John stared at the television, only to glance to his eldest asleep in the bed beside his own.

"John? John … ?"

He ignored the call of Bobby from the dropped phone, just stared in horror as people went into the river after his boy. His baby.

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