A/N: Okay, here is the next update…finally! And as for proof of where I went on my vacation, I will have pictures and the whole write up on the Country Music Fest at my live journal as of next week. Oh, right, and I met LeAnn Rimes – who knows Jensen Ackles. That thrilled me to no end. So, thank you all for waiting.

And, uh, I'm sorry about the Dean hurting towards the end, here…

Also, I'd like to thank Wild Wolf Free17 for being a wonderful beta

Walking Just to Stumble

Chapter 6

Sam Winchester tossed his walking stick to the side with a grunt, unaware of his father's glance of disapproval. It had been one torturous week of grasping the feel of how to search for walls and objects in front of him, another three days of passing through his father's man-made obstacle course; and all had been done without Dean. A blind man could only learn so much; and Sam wasn't even whole. It had been one week and four days since his brother had left to go confront their uncharted enemy – and he never returned.

"Sam." Sam heard a shuffle of feet, and felt his father's hand rest on his shoulder, the stick being shoved back in his hand. "You've got to use it."

"How can I?" He gulped, leaning against a wall of their rental house. "When will it be time to just give up?"

"Never." He felt his father's hand slide off of him, and heard John walk away.

Never…Never was a frightening word. Sam laughed in dismay. Never meant eternity. Never was a term that John was beginning to use a lot more often. Maybe he liked it; maybe John was teaming up with Gordon Walker against his sons.

A war is coming. Four words. Four words that had haunted Sam since the night their enemy had showed up. A war is coming, and Sam is on the side of evil. His brother was already gone; and if Sam's 'evil' side was at fault for that, he'd never think about taking another blind breath again.

"Tell me all that you know about my brother."

"Well, Dean.," Gordon shifted in his chair. "I don't think you want to hear that."

"Oh, believe me. I do."

"You don't understand, boy—"

"Shut the fuck up, you evil son of a--"

"Well, hey, hey, take it easy now." Gordon threw h is hands up in the air, a surrendering gesture.

"Did you blind him?" Dean shoved himself out of the chair – leaning all the way across the table. "Did you blind him, you asshole? Answer me, dammit."

"He's on the demon's side." The only parts of Gordon's body that moved were his eyes. "He's evil. It had to be done."

"You—"

"The next step is to kill him." Gordon was possessed; his talk related to that of a zombie's. "Kill him, and all of the children like him."

"You don't even know what the hell you're talking about."

"On, no, son." Gordon shook his head, an evil smile etching at his lips. "I sure do."

Dean noticed for the first time that the bar was quiet. With a look around, he discovered that no one except Gordon was in there. And with him looking around, he was too busy to notice the needle prodding its way through his scalp, into the vessels of his head.

"You evil son of a bitch." Dean looked up with his one good eye to see his abuser laugh for the millionth time since he had been drugged and taken to a desolate warehouse in the middle of no where.

"Oh, admit it, Dean." The laugh seemed to linger. "Admit that you enjoy it."

"Enjoy you giving me a continuous black eye?" Dean shook his head, regretting it the second after. His brain couldn't take much more physical or mental abuse. "Don't think so."

"Oh, well." Gordon walked around Dean's chair – the place where he was held captive. "If it's any consolation-" He paused long enough to punch Dean hard in the shoulder. "Your family doesn't even miss you anymore."

Dean's head was unwillingly bent, but he still managed to glare at the man. "What did you do to them?"

"It's not what I've done, Dean." Gordon grinned, bringing his hand up next to his head and pretending to shoot into space. "It's what I'm going to do."

"Oh no." Dean closed his eyes, and then reopened them, watching blood drip onto his jeans. "Oh God, you wouldn't."

"Unfortunately, I would." Gordon stopped altogether, bending over to pull the Swiss Army Knife out of his left boot.

"No."

"Just a nice, swift, easy stab for your daddy." Gordon looked at his prisoner, dicing through the air with his knife like it was a sword. "And then Sammy—" He began walking around his captive, once again; making grinding chops with the blade. "Sammy I'll have to take my moments torture."

"No. Oh, God. No." Dean was beginning to cough up blood as images of his brother being stabbed raced through his brain. "I'm the only one who's allowed to call him that." He pulled himself up, to his senses; to his sarcastic defense.

"Sorry, Dean." Gordon stopped once again, pressing the sharp blade against Dean's earlobe. "But I don't think you're in much of a negotiating position at this point."

"Damn you."

Gordon pressed until there was blood seeping its way through the earlobe, onto Dean's flannel shirt. "Wouldn't you just hate to see your little brother being chopped up, bit by bit?"

"God, please."

"Don't think the Man upstairs is gonna be too much of a help to you now, young one." The evildoer brought the knife down to Dean's bellybutton. "Betcha you wish that you were dealing with a demonic bastard over a real human being, huh?"

Dean screamed as the knife found its' way inside, praying to God and thanking Him that it only went in half of an inch.