So this is an extremely short chapter given my long hiatus, for which I do apologize. I haven't been in the mood to work on my fics, lately. I've been so wrapped up in trying to get my book finished so it can get published, I've abandoned all of my fics.

I'm even considering slapping a "COMPLETE" on My Bloody Valentine: A True Story just so I don't have to do the last chapter. Where my muse has gone, I have no idea. I've just been really dead, lately. I'm graduating in a few weeks from college and still trying to get a job relating to my field, been filling out applications nationwide, even Overseas. So I've been a little preoccupied with where I'm going in life (le sigh). Not that you all care about that, but I figured it would kinda justify my lack of updating.

Viviane Renard, I loved reading your review. I've been nervous that I wasn't getting my hints across and that I wasn't writing them in a way that made them known to the readers. So reading you say how you picked up on that made me insanely happy. I'm hoping that the changes in Dean are gradual enough without going OOC, but reflect more on what's really happening (does that make sense?). Anyway. If you're still around, I apologize for the insanely long wait.

SPN Mum, I hope I didn't lose you, too! You've been with me for a while (even since the first Baited) and it's the long-lasting readers that I hate to keep waiting. Especially since the first part moved rather quickly as opposed to this one. (nervous laugh) Now...if only Sam would tell Dean what's going on in his head, right?

MissReader,thank you for letting me know I'm tripping you up! (laughs) With everyone always focusing more on Dean in stories and what's going on in his head, I love Sam's psyche and working with its fragility! christinebleu, glad I have you tripping out. (laughs) And OMG! SOMEONE WHO CAUGHT ONTO THE DINER. (clears throat) Sorry. That was a big thing that I don't think many people got. (laughs) Hope you're still around! And to sami1010220, things are happening with the brothers and the plot, but it's very subtle. If everything happened all at once, I wouldn't really have a story. (laughs) I work more with the human brain than with straight action sequences because I'm fascinated with how it functions. The games it plays on our eyes, the tricks it makes with our ears - it's so interesting. So, yeah. There are things - big things, even - happening. You just gotta pick up on them. (laughs)

Enjoy after the disclaimer, folks!

Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, there would be a lot more torture - mentally and physically. (snickers)


7

Devil's Laughter

Sam sat on the curb of the street, his elbows sitting on his bent knees as he blindly watched people argue across the street. Another argument with John and he had left the motel, refusing to return until after their dad left for another hunt he claimed would only be a few days. There had been so much tension; he just could not look his father in the face without becoming upset. With the way he was feeling, even seeing his brother was building anger within him. For once, it would have been nice to have Dean on his side, instead of either taking his dad's side or not getting involved at all. Perhaps that was truly why he had become infuriated, even more than usual: Dean had attacked him along with his father, leaving the fifteen-year-old with no ground to stand on. The only time Dean ever seemed to support him was when John was out of the picture, much to his dismay.

The woman that was arguing with the man across the street slapped him across the face before storming into the opened front door. The man was about to go after her, until a toolkit flew out of the door and hit him in the chest. It was followed by more items being thrown at him, including a suitcase, clothes, books, CDs and videos amongst other paraphernalia. One of the CDs whizzed like a Frisbee and broke next to Sam, who decided to move before he was hit in the crossfire. He could still hear things crashing and the man calling the woman obscenities while tossing in an apology between throws as he made his way down the street away from the trailer park, his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans. He questioned how much longer he would have to wait until he could be sure John was gone. It was dusk and by the time he would get back, it would probably be well into the night. Yet, the more he walked around, the more he wondered if Dean would end up going with him, leaving Sam alone, once again. Sometimes, he did not mind; but the last time both his father and his brother left, their few days turned into a week and a half.

He stopped outside a rundown apartment complex and cast his eyes upwards. Graffiti layered the outside of the building, but open windows with curtains proved that it was still occupied. A white cat perched in the window on the fourth floor jumped to a low-hanging tree branch before climbing down and landing onto the ground. It crossed the street and sat down in front of Sam, staring up at him. It blinked, eyes halfway closed. He crouched down, but when he went to pet it, its demeanor quickly changed and it bit down on his hand, and then ran back towards the apartments, vanishing around the corner. He pulled his hand back, looked at the puncture marks and wiped the small droplets of blood onto his shirt. There was a slight pain and he glanced back down at it, holding his right hand with his left hand, staring at the marks; he wiped the blood droplets that reformed with his thumb, smearing it across his skin. His head pulled up, searching for the cat, but it was most-likely long gone. His gaze followed to the window the cat had come from and pressed his eyebrows together when he saw a woman staring out of the window at him, holding the cat. She shut the curtains, obstructing his view.

Hunter's intuition kicking in, he debated whether or not to check it out or leave it be.

He felt a headache form behind his eyes and he shook his head before crossing the street to the front of the complex and walking up the stoop. The keypad for the door was busted, so the door opened without having to be unlocked. The entryway was merely part of a narrow hallway; the painted walls were chipping away and cracks ran across the ceiling; the carpet on the stairs was worn and tattered, pulling up in the corners and the handles running up the wall were rotting and ready to fall from the nails that held them. He avoided touching them as he made his way up the stairs, his hand gripping the bowing knife in his jacket pocket. On the second floor, he could hear a television through one of the apartment room doors, the sound faded into the background as he rounded the corner to go up two more floors. There was a six-paned window on the fourth floor; the glass was clouded over with years of dust build up and a few of the panes had cracks like spider webbing. Like the other floors, there were only two doors, one on each end of the hall – one at the top of the stairs and the other at the bottom. The room Sam was by had its door completely opened and, when he peered into it, he noticed it was completely vacant. The old wooden floor seemed to be rotting and, just like the rest of the apartment complex, cracks ran up and down the walls and ceiling.

A creaking sound from the opposite room drew his attention and he looked just in time to see the door slowly crack open. A quick glance back to the vacant apartment was given before he cautiously walking to the other apartment, grip tightening around the weapon. He stood outside for a moment, listening for movement behind the door. When he did not hear anything, he pressed his shoulder against the door, slowly pushing it open and looking in.

It was dark, all the lights having been off, but he could see, what looked like the flicker of candle light coming from the room straight ahead. Looking back to make sure there was no one around, he slipped inside. Stepping toe-heel down the hall to avoid creaking, he heard the door shut behind him and he jumped, glancing over his shoulder at the now-closed door. Chest pounding, he pulled the knife from its hiding spot and held it next to him, continuing down the hall. When he entered the room with the flickering lights, it was coming from candles that were lighting the room; there were red and black candles lit on the mantle of the turned on fireplace and, even stranger, lit candles on an altar. The entire room was decorated with Satanic paraphernalia. A large pentagram was drawn in red on the wall above the fireplace; dried drops of the red had dripped down the wall, giving the notion that it had been created in blood. Pieces of carcasses from animals were on strings hanging from the mantle of the fireplace and ceiling and, on the altar was a dead raven, its mouth open. Glancing back behind him for the woman he had seen, he stepped up to the altar, looking at the items.

A brass bowl with black liquid was in the center of the table with pouches of powders and herbs laid next to it. A leather-bound book was opened to a page on the extraction of life essence. He ran his hand down the page, reading over it. "What the—"

"It's rude to enter someone's home uninvited."

Sam spun around to see the woman from before; her disheveled appearance came as somewhat of a shock, looking as though she stepped out of an apocalyptic film: long gray hair was matted with dirt and soot, attire baggy and ripped.

Sam held the blade out in front of him and the woman appeared intrigued.

"What is all this?" he demanded, voice firm as he quickly motioned to the altar with his head. The moment he jerked his neck, the headache shot through his skull. "What are you?"

The woman laughed. "Curious, aren't we? I guess you can't help it; such a young, questioning age."

Sam swallowed, opposite hand holding the altar for balance as the pain radiating down his neck. He caught movement at the woman's feet and quickly glanced down to see the white cat walk and sit next to her.

"What's wrong?" she asked with odd sincerity. "Not feeling well?" She smiled and looked at the cat as Sam shook his head and pressed his wrist to his forehead. "She has a knack for picking out hunters that get a little too curious, doesn't she?"

Sam squinted, the scene around him beginning to blur. He held the knife back out in front of him, trying to keep stable. "What did you do to me?"

Slowly, the woman brought her gaze to him, looking at him softly. "We have to protect ourselves. But I will say, you're awfully young for a hunter," she said, watching Sam with an amused look on her face. He shook his head again, blood pounding against his skull as the lights seemed to close in around him. He stepped back, swaying as he tried to keep the knife tight in his hand. "I almost feel regretful you have to die so young." The room started spinning and he stumbled backwards, falling into the altar and scattering items around him. He groped around for balance, hand landing on the book. "But, don't worry. Your blood will be put to good use." Keeping his spinning gaze locked onto her, he slowly gripped his hand around the cover of the book. "So young…so…fresh."

"Others will come looking for me," he said, trying not to stutter from his numbing tongue. "If something happens, you won't live to see another day."

She laughed, failing to see Sam moving the book off the table. "Would you like to tell me how they'll find you without this?" She held up his cellphone, which had been completely smashed and ruined. Sam bit down on his jaw; there went his plan for calling Dean. Though, how she acquired it he would have liked to have known. "The naivety of the young is so comical. I've lived many days, and you're a foolish child to think otherwise."

Sam shook his head and she watched him, as though a predator watching prey. "I may be young, but the young aren't as foolish as you seem to think." He held up the book and her calm expression dropped, eyes beginning to show anger. "Maybe you should think to hide your life, instead of laying it out."

In only a jerk of the hand, he pitched it into the burning fireplace.

"No!" she shrieked as he nearly threw herself to the fireplace; but the book was covered by the flames. She jerked her head to Sam, eyes mere slits and face contorted into rage. "You!" She lunged at Sam, tackling him to the ground. They struggled on the floor, Sam trying to pull his wrist away from her grip to gain free the knife. In the midst of the struggle, however, she suddenly stopped, her eyes going wide as she stared down at him in shock. Sam stared back, unmoving as her mouth fell open and lines began forming in her face. He tried to gain a view of the book in the fire – it was curling under the flames, turning to gray ash. His attention was pulled back to the woman, her skin graying over, turning to ash like the book. Everything sunk in and the nearly-skeletal figure collapsed onto him.

With a groan, he shoved the corpse off of him and sat up, panting. Giving it only a moment, he staggered to his feet, head still spinning. Heart feeling as though it was moving a mile-a-minute, he moved to leave the apartment. Once he got back, he would tell Dean and get his help in covering it up. His hand traced the wall as he left the apartment. As he headed down the stairs, they began to swirl and he felt as though he was experiencing vertigo. With the experience, the will to make it out of the building and back to the motel became stronger; if he could just make it back. He released a gasp and quickly followed it with a deep inhale after he pushed the door open and made it outside onto the stoop. His legs began growing numb and he had to force them to move across the lawn and used the wall of the building as support to keep from falling. Breathing was getting more difficult with each breath and everything within his vision was melting together.

The last thing he remembered was his back hitting against the wall to an attached building before everything fell black and he sunk into a black abyss.

-o-o-o-

The Impala crunched on familiar gravel as it pulled into the bar's parking lot. Dusk outside gave reason as to why few cars were in the lot: it was not late enough for people to begin filling the building, yet. Right by the front of the building sat the familiar Charger and black Optima with four familiar faces and bodies sitting on the Charger and standing around it. Sam had barely spoken to Dean since they got in the car, making it quite apparent that he was against their actions, but Dean continued to tell him to "lighten up" and "have some fun." Shortly after they left the motel, Sam was regretting not just staying back, but, at the same time, he felt apprehensive at leaving his brother alone with these people. As innocent as they appeared, there was a feeling he could not shake. That with the fact he was unable to distinguish whether or not some of the comments actually came from them or his head and he was stuck jumping through hoops trying to decipher reality from fantasy.

The trees surrounding the lot moved strongly as a gust of wind blew as the car pulled up next to the Charger. After shutting off the engine and taking the keys out of the ignition, Dean turned to look at Sam, only to see his brother staring straight ahead, annoyance obvious on his face. He knocked his hand into Sam's chest. "C'mon, Sam. Can't have you moody all night." Without saying a word, Sam turned to him and gave a forced smile forming a thin line. "Ah, that's the spirit," he said, ignoring Sam's sarcasm, to which his brother's "smile" fell to a frown. Without another word, Dean pushed open his door and climbed out. Sam released a sigh and shook his head before following after his brother.

Dean walked around the car to his side, meeting, not only Sam, but the group that came to their arrival.

"Sweet, the party can finally start," Raphael said as he pushed himself up from his leaning position on the car.

Fleurety, who was standing next to Gai, traced her eyes to Dean, then Sam. "I see you convinced Sammy to join us." Dean looked to his brother and knocked his elbow into him. Sam merely forced a smile, adjusted his jacket and shoved his hands into the pockets of it. "You seem excited," she said sarcastically.

"Thrilled."

Raphael was now standing next to him and took the opportunity to set his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Don't look so bummed, pretty boy. You're among friends." Sliding his hand off, he leaned in front of him to Dean. "Is he always like this?"

Dean laughed and mimicked Sam's stance. "Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"It is Thursday." Raphael's face was overcome with confusion right before: "Oh, I get it." He jerked when a balled up sheet of paper hit him in the head. Pulling up, he shot a glare to Beni, whose face was impassive as he kept his pose; arms crossed over his chest and left foot pressed up against his car.

"Your stupidity is astounding." He smirked at Raphael's expression. "Stop hitting on the guy, would you? You're embarrassing." Raphael shook his head, sent a nervous grin to Sam and Dean, and then moved back to the side of the Charger. "I assume you two are just gonna follow us?"

"Yeah," Dean responded after a quick glance to his brother. "So how far out is this place?"

Raphael had abandoned his position next to Sam and went to stand by the front passenger seat of the other vehicle with his arms set on the roof. "What? Fifty-five miles?" he asked, looking to Gai, who was sitting on the car's hood; he nodded.

"Well, we're not gonna get anywhere just standing here," Raphael spoke up as he climbed into the Optima, which had the driver's side window down. "Let's move, guys…and Fleurety." She frowned and sneered at him, but abandoned her post and went to the passenger side of the Charger.


Like I said: for as long as it took, this was an insanely short chapter. I actually had all of this done and was trying to add more to it. But, I realized, after going back through, that I can omit what I was going to do and go straight into something else - something I've been wanting to do.

I don't think this is going to end up being as long as Baited. Not because it doesn't have the capacity, but because I'm going to try to get where I want so I don't drag it on too long. (laughs)

Hope you all are still out there! I'll try to update more frequently!

(I'll update a lot more frequently if I could just land a damn job relating to my field, so that stress would go away)