Just a quick note to say thank you to all of you who have reviewed so far! It means a lot to me, and i don't want to get all chick flicky on you guys... but it does!

Anywho, hope you like this chapter. I quite like the start, but the ending i think kinda sucks. I'm not too keen on the talking chapters, i mean i know you've got to find things out at some point, but hey... i still think i could've worked this better, but how is beyond me right now. Oh and the middle bit, blame Kat - her fic got me thinking of it! You'll see what i mean when you read it... It's a little bizarre, but you should know by now.. i'm a little bizarre. I like throwing random things in it :D

Hope you like, and please let me know what you think, as always! Thank you :)

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Chapter 12

She looked up at him, petrified and tears rolling down her face as he slashed away at her skin, screaming in agony as it ripped and tore, blood pooling out onto the floor. He watched her twist and turn away from his grasp, shuffling away with her hands and feet bound, creating a bloody trail behind her. No… no… stop it, please… this isn't me… don't hurt her… He jogged after her, bringing his foot down hard on her arms, hearing a bloodcurdling snap and picturing the bone splintering beneath her skin as she cried out in pain. Pulling out his knife, he brought it down again and again, it's point tracing down her cheek, a small line of blood appearing in it's place. No… stop… STOP! He lifted her head off the floor, tasting the blood on her cheek before slamming her head back down on the floor, a grin spreading across his face as her blonde hair slowly began to turn a nasty shade of red. Satisfied, he carried on with his attack, cast off from his knife coating the walls and furniture in blood as she became more despondent and less resistant, her body going limp under him and her breathing becoming more laboured by the minute. No, stop it! Stop… she's dying… let her go!

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean rolled out of bed and walked over to his younger brother, who was tossing and turning in his bed, bathed in sweat with the sheet wrapped around his legs.

"No… no… please…stop!" Sam moaned, writhing away from Dean's grasp, fighting hard against an invisible foe. "You're killing her!"

Slowly he brought the knife up level with his face, sticking out his tongue and catching a few blood drops, savouring the sickly taste as they rolled down his throat and dripped onto the floor, camouflaged in the now maroon carpet. He looked down at her unconscious body, fighting the small smile that was forcing itself upon him as he watched her chest rise and fall unevenly, the blood seeping out from everywhere he laid his eyes on. He retracted the knife back into his pocket, deciding a slow and painful death was much more fitting than the mercy he'd shown the others. He took one last fleeting glance at his most prized conquest, his eyes moving hungrily over the inches of exposed flesh of her stomach and thighs, those long repressed carnal desires taking another lunge for freedom. Don't you touch her you son of a bitch, don't you dare…Though no matter how tempting the spoils were, he refused to touch her, instead relishing the taste of her blood and how good it felt to see the life draining out of her. So now as he passed the bathroom mirror, he paused to stare into his own grey eyes, lingering on the deep purple gouge in his neck…and now suddenly not giving into his animalistic urges and simply leaving her to suffer seemed like the most rational decision he'd ever made…

"Sam! Come on Sammy, wake up!" Dean grabbed his brother's flailing arms and pinned them down, trying his hardest to wake Sam up though knowing that his efforts were futile, that a person can rarely be woken from such an intense nightmare. Instead he resigned himself to another sleepless night, sitting down next to his brother's restless body and laying a cool, reassuring hand on Sam's forehead. God Sam, I thought you'd practically stopped having these nightmares… or at least gotten better at hiding them from me…He let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at Maddie's still form in the other bed, yet still keeping a watchful eye on his brother. Despite the talk he and Maddie had earlier, despite the reassurances, the tension and static in the small space between them in the bed had been almost unbearable. Each on their own sides of the bed, backs facing each other with the small space in between them feeling as large as a canyon. Part of him wanted to take her in his arms, to hold her to rid them of the horrible friction and emptiness, but he couldn't. He'd been too surprised by her wanting to stay in the same bed at all, half expecting her to suggest another room or, god forbid, even staying with Sam. But she hadn't, and he hadn't wanted to tempt fate by even bringing the subject up, content in his belief that things were finally starting to look up.

"Urgh…" Sam grunted and sat bolt upright, staring straight ahead, his eyes wide with shock. He paid no attention to Dean, to what was pinning him to the bed, instead wrenching himself loose and pulling himself to his feet. "Urgh…" He groaned again, nearly toppling over his own feet as he untangled the sheet and ran towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him

"Sam? Sammy, you alright?" Dean jumped up, hurrying anxiously to the bathroom door, slightly bewildered by his brother's reaction. He pressed his ear against the door, his anxiety turning to unease as he heard the faint sounds of his brother coughing and retching. "Sam, talk to me. You okay?"

The lock on the bathroom door clicked, the hinges creaking as Sam pulled the door open. "I'm good." Though his pale face, tousled hair and gasping breaths seemed to suggest otherwise.

"Liar." Dean folded his arms across his chest and stood in the doorway, barring Sam's exit. "No person that has a nightmare and throws up after it ever feels good, Sam… I thought you stopped having these?"

"I did stop having them… until about a couple of weeks ago…" He paused, elbowing Dean in the stomach, who reluctantly moved out of the way, gasping in pain and watching his brother closely as he collapsed back down on the bed. "How bad was it?"

For the moment, Dean chose to go with Sam's blatant subject change, smiling wickedly at his brother, himself trying for a change of tack.. "It was bad enough, I mean you were screaming like a little girl… And I'm sure you shouted something about munchkins at one point…" Dean grinned, fighting hard to keep a straight face as Sam frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked over, his eyes blank

"Munchkins?"

"Yeah dude, like in the Wizard of Oz… Such a classic." Dean's eyes misted over and he began to hum 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow' quietly as he gazed off at a point just over Sam's left shoulder.

Clearing his throat, Sam waved his hand in front of Dean's face, unable to hide his amusement, "Sure… whatever, man."

"You don't think so?"

"Oh come on, it's overrated, and annoying as hell...I mean, when I was at school, people kept asking me if I clicked my heels together to get home…"

"Haha well you know what they say about home… there's no place-"

"Don't even go there, or I swear to god I'll sit you in front of that movie until your eyes bleed."

"Alright, alright." Dean replied, holding his hands up and smiling merrily. "But I know you keep those sparkly red shoes somewhere…" He nudged Sam's leg as he sat down on the bed, and although his brother smiled, he seemed distant and was staring at Maddie sleeping in the opposite bed. "Sam, what's wrong?"

"Do you know how close she was to dying?" Sam asked, burying his head in his hands and not bothering to wait for a reply. "I saw what he did to her Dean, the same as he did to all of his victims. I saw everything as th-"

"How many victims?"

Sam ignored this, running his hand through his hair and flexing his fingers anxiously. "I saw it happen as though I was him, Dean, I was Jeffrey Kinver. I did what he did, I felt what he felt. He drank her blood and I can still taste it in my mouth, I can still smell it on my hands…"

"And you think you're to blame for this?" Dean demanded, grabbing Sam's arm to get his full attention. "Sam, this isn't your fault! You didn't hurt her and you never will, you hear me? None of this is down to you, it's because of that bastard Kinver, and I swear to you, we'll make him pay."

Sam completely disregarded most of Dean's speech, holding his hands out in front of him as though he was expecting them to be covered in blood, and for a moment, they actually were. He could almost feel the tacky, wet substance between his fingers whenever he moved, the dark red shining in what little light the room provided. Then he blinked and the blood disappeared, reality coming crashing back down and he realised he was back to just being Sam, the one without grievous bodily harm on his conscience. "Who say's I'm not to blame?"

"I do, Sam! As I know you're not to blame, and until I find you standing over someone with a knife in your hand, there's nothing you can do to convince me otherwise!"

"I'm not saying I stabbed her Dean," The image of Jeffrey Kinver… me… ran in front of his eyes, he watched as he drove the knife repeatedly into her flesh, the sickening sound of skin tearing and being ripped apart echoing in his ears as the blood pooled out like water onto the carpet. A shiver ran down his spine, as though the ghost of Jeffrey Kinver himself was taunting him, pushing him to his limits, "I'm just saying that I… I… I could have stopped her from getting hurt at all…"

Dean scooted forward on the bed, frowning in concern. "Sam, what do you mean? What's going on?"

Sam held his head in his hands, groaning as he raked his fingers over the cuts that twisted up from his forehead and disappeared underneath his hair. "I had a vision that this was going to happen to her, weeks ago…"

"And you just decided not to mention it?"

"No, Dean, of course I didn't. It's just that it didn't feel like a vision, it was more like… a dream… I just thought it was the same as the vision I had back in Stanford, triggered by what's been going on. I didn't for once think that something like this would happen again! It was like what happened with Jess, Dean… I tried my hardest to put it to the back of my mind, to forget it… but it just wouldn't go away…"

Dean shook his head in exasperation, running his hands through his hair, echoing his younger brother's behaviour and managing to irritate the now fading bruises on his knuckles, sending yet another jolt to the pit of his stomach. He patted Sam reassuringly on the shoulder, trying to ignore the horrible look of despair in his brother's eyes as he forced himself to be forgiving and sympathetic. His brother needed someone forgiving and sympathetic, and this could finally be a chance to at least partially redeem himself for his brutal attack. "Jesus Sam, why didn't you tell me? After everything you went through with Jess, keeping everything hidden away, even leaving yourself open for Mary to get at you… haven't you learnt anything by now? You have to let me know about these kind of things!"

"What, like you do you mean?" Sam threw back, outraged at how completely oblivious and irrational Dean could be.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're hardly one to talk about opening up, Dean! You don't talk to anyone, and when you do, it's only because they force you to! Take the Shtriga for example. You only told me the truth about that because I wouldn't let it drop! Could you honestly tell me that you would have told me anything, had I not pushed you? I mean when was the last time you opened your heart to someone and let them in? We're both as bad as each other.. .except the only difference between us is that I actually show my emotions, instead of bottling them up!" He was glaring at his brother, taking long deep breaths as he twisted his body round, tensing himself for a fight. He saw the anger light up in Dean's eyes as he sprang up off the bed, clenching his fists and turning on him, imagining himself looking much like a deer caught in car headlights. But instead of a fight, another brawl that would add even more cracks to their already fragile relationship, the fire burning in Dean's eyes seemed to burn out and all that remained was an empty sadness, that served only to make Sam feel even worse than he already did.

"Please Sam, don't you think it's hard enough for me as it is?" Dean collapsed back down on the bed, examining the yellow bruises and cuts on his knuckles as he silently pleaded for his brother to listen. "After everything that's happened over this past week, have you not thought about laying off the criticisms for a while? Jesus, you're starting to sound like Dad!"

"Dean, I -"

"Just forget it Sam," He stood up again and padded back over to his bed, waving his hand in Sam's general direction, "I'm going back to bed… try not to have any nightmares this time."

They both settled back down in their respective beds, Sam flipping on his side to avoid any uncomfortable looks between him and Dean, who in turn was finally facing inwards, his eyes focusing on the motif on the back of Maddie's t-shirt, taking comfort in her familiar shape and sleeping habits. Neither of them could sleep, Sam tossing and turning in his bed, groaning whenever he rolled onto his bandaged side and chest, whilst Dean was still lying in the same position, one bare leg wrapped around the outside of the duvet as he hugged it closely to his chest. Each of them completely absorbed in their own thoughts, their minds working overtime as the dark night sky disappeared around them, the bright hues of the morning sunrise appearing on the horizon when the sound of snoring finally filled the room.

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Dean opened his eyes groggily, blinking a couple of times and instinctively reaching for the knife under his pillow as he felt something move onto the bed, the mattress creaking under the pressure.

"Still sleeping with that thing?"

He squinted, withdrawing his hand from underneath the pillow and rolling over onto his side, kicking the duvet onto the floor. "Sam? What time is it?"

"About half seven."

"Urgh… kill me now." He sat up and leant his head against the metal frame of the bed, the coolness of the bar unsettling him a little, reminding him of a day not long ago in a small and empty parking lot. Flinching at his own idiocy, he leant forward and glanced over at the empty space next to him. "Where's Maddie?"

Sam nodded his head in the direction of the bathroom, and now Dean could just about make out someone retching and coughing, followed by the sound of running water. "What's up with her?"

"She's pregnant." Sam replied, shrugging and watching in interest as Dean hesitated before nodding, his expression remaining decidedly neutral. "Look Dean, about last night…"

"Forget about it, Sam. Let's just find this bastard Kinver and get this over with."

He looked as though he was about to protest, opening his mouth but snapping it shut almost instantaneously. How much further did he want to push his luck? Not that far, at least not yet… Let Dean have his illusions, for what they're worth…"Yeah… about that… We might have a problem." Sam grabbed his notes from the table and sat down, opening up the laptop.

"What kind of a problem?"

"Well, I found out what this guy did Dean, and he's a monster. He murdered over twenty girls, and that was before he died… God only knows how many afterwards…" Sam could only imagine the body count Jeffrey Kinver was carrying around with him, morbidly wishing that Kinver was more like Charles Harrington… At least numbers between the shoulder blades would carry some value… Before this thought even escaped his lips, he swallowed it and immediately regretted even thinking it. Picturing Maddie, Dean or anyone else he loved with those horrific numbers on their backs was enough to make him want to throw up, the finality of those numbers never even crossing his mind until the pictured them on a familiar face. "There have been numerous reports across the country of unsolved murders, all with Kinver's M.O, that date back to the late nineteenth century. Dean, he's probably murdered over a hundred women so far.. and who knows how many more that the authorities haven't flagged? We need to stop him."

"We will, I told you that Sam," He rolled out of bed, pulling on a t-shirt and stumbling over to the table, taking a seat opposite his brother's, "What did he do to them, the women?"

"He butchered them with a standard kitchen knife, stabbing them so many times that the coroners couldn't differentiate between the separate wounds. And then if that wasn't enough, he raped them, ridding them of any kind of dignity they had left before he slit their throats, leaving them to choke in their own blood." There were tears in Sam's eyes, and Dean knew they were thinking the same thing, each glad that Maddie had been spared from such a vicious slaughter.

"Does this mean that she.. she was…?" Dean trailed off, nodding nervously at the closed bathroom door."

"What?" Sam asked, glancing from the door to Dean before it finally dawned on him, "Oh no, no…she wasn't... Kinver gave up on raping women when the law finally caught up with him…"

"So what does gets this guy's blood boiling now then, huh?" Dean enquired, neither of them mistaking the obvious sound of relief in his voice.

"That's exactly it," Sam nodded enthusiastically, glancing down at his hands again and hastily shoving them in their pockets, "Blood." He added, noting Dean's vacant look.

"As in bite my neck and drain me, blood?"

"No, not quite. He's a spirit, so he can't really drink it. He just laps it up, enjoying the feel of it as it runs down his throat…"

"Man, he's one sick puppy…" Dean replied, "So how did old Jeff finally get his comeuppance?"

"I guess he just slipped up, killed one girl too many and was hung for his crimes." Sam said, shrugging inconclusively, yet the sight of the deep gouge in Kinver's neck was still etched in the back of his mind.

"Great, so this is just a simple salt and burn job, right?"

"Ahh… no, not exactly. After Kinver was hung, he was.. urgh… cremated."

"Oh man, you serious? Well that sucks out loud… So how are we going to kill him?"

Sam shrugged again, starting to feel like 'I don't know' was becoming his theme song. "I'm not sure, but I found something else out." He looked over at Dean, who nodded for him to carry on. "There's an old house not too far from here, apparently where Kinver used to live before he went ga-ga."

"So you're thinking there's something there?"

"Possibly, I don't know… We just can't rush into this head first Dean, we need to find out more."

"And that's where my trusty geek boy comes in," He smacked Sam playfully on the shoulder, muttering a hasty "Sorry" as Sam winced in pain. "But there's one thing I need to get straight…"

Sam frowned, expecting a speech worth of their father, the usual "Be good and stay safe", heck even a "don't do anything stupid" wouldn't go amiss in this kind of situation.

"She doesn't come with us," He indicated towards the bathroom door, lowering his voice, "He's after her, so she needs to be safe… it's not just her we're looking after now, alright?"

Sam nodded his agreement, following Dean's gaze and knowing that Maddie was never going to take this decision lying down, but for once he found he held no sympathy for her, just concern. This is going to end, once and for all…