Hey all!

Sorry to leave you hanging for a while... but you know how it is. And it's not getting better ;)

Some maybe hope Sam is gonna shoot the bitch, throw toilet-paper at her... but, well... to be honest: Where would be the fun in that???

Enjoy the new chapter!

Before:

Pain flared up in his back and he went down with a groan.

He blinked heavily as dark spots danced in front of his vision, trying to stay conscious. When his sight finally came back, he saw Dean landing on the floor in a heap. Horror overcame him, when he saw the figure hovering over his brother.

He struggled to get to his hands and knees, feeling blood running down his side, tickling his belly, but a hiss from the figure made him stop.

She noticed him and her milky-white eyes bore into him, daring him, freezing him.

"Mine!" she hissed and Sam could see her fingers run over Dean's skin greedily.

"Leave… him… alone!" Sam forced out between clenched teeth.

Some invisible force hit him again, making him slide along the floor and he collapsed when he felt himself be drained of his strength.

He saw her attention turn back to Dean, who was lying deathly still on the floor and swallowed down the bile as her stench tainted the room.

He lay there helplessly, seeing her skinny, skeleton-like fingers bent, running along the tender skin of Dean's belly and soon enough blood started to flow freely.

Sam's fight against the nausea was lost and he vomited, as he watched her bend forward, licking off the blood and then, she greedily started to still her hunger.

It seemed to go on like that for hours, when in reality it was only minutes, with Sam having to watch her feed on his brother. When she finished, she turned back to him, her lips red with blood and she smiled.

"Soon…" she whispered, her eyes lit up with an eerie glow. Sam tried to move when she started to advance on him, but all of his bones and muscles seemed to be frozen.

"Son of a bitch!" he grinded out, bucking against the invisible bounds that held him, gagging on the now palpable smell of decay.

She slowly bent down, her long, spidery fingers connecting with his face and she stopped, her face distorting as if touching him hurt.

"No!" she shrieked, her fingers pulling back, like his skin was burning her.

"No!" she repeated and stood, backing away.

Her touch seemed to break the spell she put on him, and Sam fought to his feet with a groan.

"NO!" her last screech made him stumble backwards when he was hit again with the strange force. Wind started to rise in the small bathroom and Sam stared on in horror as her figure turned nebulously, hovering over his brother for a moment, then, with a swirling movement it wrapped around Dean and stayed there for a second before vanishing.

Before Sam had a chance to get over his shock, Dean started to choke.

SPNSPN

For all of his life he'd been cautious around strangers, had never allowed anyone to touch him. But this man after all, wasn't a stranger.

He'd been terrified of his dad, because he knew something had happened, had changed his dad. How he knew? He just did.

And like he just knew something had changed his dad, the same way he just knew Sammy was here. But Sammy had changed too. Usually Sammy felt like... clean, pure, innocent. Everything he wasn't and would never be again, only when Sammy was there, filling this part. And Sammy always felt small and frightened, and that triggered in him the feeling to protect. To safe.

This Sammy was different. It was all this, and at the same time so different.

Dean stopped his thoughts, panic growing a little as he tried to breathe but couldn't draw in any air. The pressure on his chest almost too much to bear.

He hurt. Everything hurt. And the pressure robbed him of his last strength. He was too weary. Even opening his eyes was too much of a task. Then the hands were back. They moved him to his side and some of the pressure on his chest suddenly left through his mouth and nose.

He took a shuddering breath and started to cough, gasping at the white, hot agony that seemed to split him in half. But the veil that had cocooned him, lifted and he could hear a voice.

He concentrated on the softly spoken words, gentle hands that were pulling him upwards, something soft on his cold skin… and suddenly the care he felt was gone when something pressed hard on his belly. He cried out in agony, wanting to get away from the cruel hands. But the pressure eased a little and he sighed. Feeling himself being moved he felt warmth encircling him, accompanied by a soft litany of "Sorrysorrysorry". His tense muscles starting to relax as he felt the familiarity. Sammy… he thought as he slowly drifted off into nothingness again.

...

Sam could feel the horror of what he witnessed a few seconds ago, keeping its grip on him. He fought hard to get the images back into the far corner of his mind. He needed to help his brother. Slowly, with his breath coming out in little gasps, he ignored the fire in his back and crawled over to Dean and gently turned him to his side. He choked when he saw that there was blood mingled in the bile clogging his brother's airways.

Then, Dean took in his first shuddering breath, which turned into a cough, and Sam's hands pulled him into a semi-sitting position, feeling the cold and clammy skin beneath his fingertips. He looked around for the hoodie he bought earlier, spotting it lying abandoned on the vanity and grabbing it, he gently eased it over Dean's head.

The blood was still flowing freely from the new gash on Dean's belly and Sam knew he had to stop it. Grabbing his T-shirt, he balled it up, wiped away the blood and then put more pressure on the wound.

He could feel Dean writhe under him and with a whispered litany of "Sorrysorrysorry" he eased the pressure slightly and cradled the boy in his lap, rocked him until he felt him going lax in his arms again.

Shakily, he got on his feet; Dean nestled securely in his arms. He took the sweatpants he hadn't changed yet and took one last glance around the messy bathroom, before hurrying to leave it.

...

Outside, he ran into the cashier, who was on his way to the bathroom.

"Sir, is everything alright?" he asked. Seeing Sam's pale complexion and the small boy gathered in his arms, unmoving, he stopped in midstride, looking him up and down.

"Sir?"

Sam didn't stop, just pushed past him and continued his way out the gas station. He had to get away from there. Now.

...

Hal Stevenson watched the man walk past him, a shudder going up and down his spine when he smelled the sticky-sweet fume following him.

"Oi!" he called after him, pushing the door to the bathroom open and staggered backwards, hands covering his mouth and nose at the blood and the smell.

"Holy shit!" he whispered, stumbling back and landing on his backside as nausea and dizziness hit him. He heaved violently, moving on all fours, sweat running down his forehead and neck.

He needed to call the police... this man... the boy... getting to his feet he stumbled forward to the counter, grabbed the phone and dialled 9-1-1.

To be continued...

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