Warnings: A bit of torture, a decent amount of blood, evil Winchesters - except for Sammy. NOT wincest.
Don't own Supernatural or the characters, sadly.
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Thank you all so much for reviewing!
{ .777: Chapter Ten: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And the reason that John's the comforter and Dean's the discipliner will probably be explained in the prequel. Chapter Eleven: And, Hunnie, you should be very proud of your daughter - she sounds like an amazing, mature fourteen year old who, with that kind of look on life, will grow into a beautiful woman. Taking into consideration of everyone's reviews - and the support everyone has shown me - I've decided to continue. And I absolutely LOVE your story, Hun, and can't wait for "Hush-a-by Sammy." Thank you again for helping me, Hunnie, and I hope I can do the same one day.}
{DomBird: Chapter Ten: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And thank you :). I don't like seeing Sam upset either. Chapter Eleven: And thanks, Hun, for awhile there I wasn't sure if I was into it or not - I was getting stuck on where I could go with the story, but I took a step back and really thought about it and I've realised where I wanna take it now. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter.}
{AmaraRae: Chapter Ten: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And yeah, for some reason I just don't like writing John as the hard one - I think its because every story I've read with John in, it always has him as being the unfair one. Just thought I'd give the poor guy a break.}
{Ncsupnatfan: Chapter Ten: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And I'm so sorry you had to wait so long for your answer, but you'll find out in this chapter. Chapter Eleven: And thank you so much, Hun! Your words and your support have helped me overcome a few insecurities, and I can't thank you enough for it. I've decided to finish this one before I do anything else. And thank you so much for the offer, Hunnie, that really meant a lot to me! I'm here if you ever need the same, Hun.}
{Amandous: Chapter Ten: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And it makes you feel torn, doesn't it, Hun? On one hand, you want Sam to have his normal life. But on the other, you want the family to be together. And you'll probably see those times from Dean's point of view in the prequel, Hun. And, haha, hopefully you like puppies? Chapter Eleven: And thank you so much for your support and advice, Hun. I've decided to continue this before writing anything else. And I nearly just about passed out when you said you used my work - major shock! Haha. I'm completely flattered though, Hunnie, and it gave me a boost in confidence, so thank you so very much! And I've already started a little on the prequel, so once this is finished, you'll get to see how Sam progress. And thanks again, Hun, your support and encouragement has helped me so much throughout this story and has given me the confidence to carry on with it, so thank you!}
{Acidspades: Chapter Ten: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And yes, I'm afraid they are.}
{Souless666: Chapter Ten: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And thank you, Hun, hopefully this chapter will make up for the long wait? And in the original story, I kind of made Sam seem a bit childish, even though I explained about his mental age, but it just didn't seem right. I don't know if Sam's a bit more mature in this one, but I wanted him to be a bit stronger while still being confused and conflicted and torn between right and wrong. And truthfully, Hun, Sam killing Jess wasn't really planned; it just worked out that way. And thank you, Hun, I'm really glad you're enjoying it. Chapter Eleven: And thank you so much for the advice, Hun. Taking it into consideration, I realised you were right; in some stories it's better to go back every now and again and learn about things that way, and I've realised that this is one of those stories. Thanks again, Hun.}
{Guest: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And I'm so, so sorry for keeping you waiting this long. Chapter Eleven: And thank you for the advice, Hun, I've decided to continue and go from there. Hope you enjoy.}
{IchigoMoonCutter: Chapter Eleven: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And thank you so much, Hun, your advice to just keep writing has helped. I've only been able to write little bits at a time - which is why its so late - but I've gotten there in the end.}
{Mutilated Pancake: Chapter Eleven: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And thank you, Hun. I've had anxiety attacks on and off since New Year so it has been hard to settle back down but I've forced myself to get on with it. And I've started a little bit of the prequel just to try and get myself going again. I'm gonna stick with finishing this first before posting any other stories, but thank you for your advice; I've taken it, and every other review, into consideration and you have all helped me. So thank you, Hunnie. Hope you enjoy.}
{LadyoftheRockies: Chapter Eleven: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And thank you, Hun, taking your advice into consideration, I've started writing little bits of the prequel to help push me forward with this one. And hopefully I won't be so late with the next chapter. Enjoy, Hun.}
{Sarah: Chapter Eleven: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And thank you, Hunnie. :) I've decided to carry on with this and post a prequel when I've finished. :)}
{Jadeyy: Hey, You! :D :D. Glad you're enjoying the story so far and I hope it stays that way.}
{Sammy82: Chapter Eleven: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And I've decided to continue it, Hunnie. :) Hopefully a prequel will be up after this one is finished.}
{Reader: Chapter Eleven: Thank you for reviewing, Hun. And thank you so much, for helping me! You were right; re-rewriting it was so tempting and I struggled a lot with wondering whether I should or not. But with everyone's encouragement and support that has helped me overcome my doubts and insecurities, I've decided to just go ahead and see where I can take this. And I've struggled a lot with my anxiety these last few weeks - my anxiety levels keep going up and down - but I've decided that instead of moping around on the days that my anxiety is normal, I'm gonna try and push myself to just get things done. Thank you again, Hunnie, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.}
Escape Rewritten!
Chapter Eleven!
No one spoke.
Not a single word was spoken between the three men as John and Dean simultaneously opened their doors and got out. They shared a concerned look over the hood of the car as Sam stayed where he was, staring at the cabin. Dean helplessly shrugged a shoulder at his Dad before walking to the back of the car and opening the trunk.
John sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the cabin before peeking through the car window at his son. Despite knowing that Dean was right in his reasons for bringing Sam here, John was still a little hesitant to do so.
If Sam was reacting this way now – and he hadn't even stepped through the door yet – than how was he gonna react after staying there for however long Dean deemed necessary?
'Is this necessary?' John silently asked himself, looking back at the cabin.
Before everything happened – before Sam's girl went up in flames – John had whole heartedly agreed on this plan. He and Dean had agreed on this from the moment Sam had disappeared. Sam had known he wasn't suppose to ever run from them; knew the consequences if he did so. Locking Sammy up in that cabin was Dean's form of grounding his little brother, and John agreed on that.
But now...
John sighed again.
Sam was already emotionally fragile; what if this made it worse?
But what if it made it better?
As a man sitting on the sidelines, the decision would have been easy. You don't isolate someone from the rest of the world, simple as that. Even guys in Prison have contact with more than just two other people.
But as a Father who knew the ins and outs of the situation – their situation – ...well, maybe his oldest son was right. Sam wasn't safe without them around. They had to teach him that it was wrong to run from them, because if they didn't...
Sam wasn't safe.
It was like teaching a child how to cross the road. No kid likes holding their parents hand in public, especially young boys. But you made them do it because if they didn't they could get seriously hurt.
John ran a hand through his hair, turning back to the car and opening Sam's door.
Sam had to learn. He wasn't ready to walk across the road by himself.
Without saying a word, John took his son's hand and gently tugged until Sam got out of the car. Closing the door, John laid his hand on Sam's shoulder in silent comfort as Sam kept his head down, staring at the floor.
There was no point in Sam fighting this, he knew that. One way or another he would end up in that cabin, whether he went quietly or kicking and screaming. So why cause himself a headache by throwing a fit? It wouldn't help.
A 'thud' sounded out in the air as Dean closed the trunk and walked towards them, two duffel bags hanging from his shoulder and the third one in his left hand. Stopping beside Sam, he gave John a quick nod, hitching the duffel bags on his shoulder.
"Alright." He spoke on a sigh. "What do you say about getting inside and settling in?" He nodded his head in the direction of the cabin and shifted the duffel bags on his shoulder again.
John gave Sam a quick glance in concern before nodding his head at Dean. "Sounds good." He looked back at Sam, squeezing his shoulder. "Sammy?"
Sam glared at the ground, barely stopping himself from shrugging John's hand off of him. "Like I have a choice." He scoffed with attitude before sealing his lips together in a tight line. Snapping at them wouldn't do him any good.
Dean paused in his mid-turn towards the cabin, frowning slightly at his brother. "Tone it down with the attitude, Sammy." He reprimanded gently, making Sam clench his hands into fists.
It was just Sam's opinion, but he thought he had the right to give a little attitude. It had only been a few days since his Dad and brother had turned up on his doorstep and completely destroyed his life once again, hadn't really been a full day since Jess...
And now his family had taken him back to the one place he had never wanted to see again. And who knew how long Dean and John were gonna keep him locked in there for this time. He had ran away for two weeks when he was twelve and got locked up for six months. Six long months without any contact with anyone beside Dean and Dad, six months of sitting by the open window to get fresh air, six months without television or a phone or his books; half a bloody year of having those...nightmares.
A shiver crawled down Sam's spine as he remembered. Those bloody dreams had made his life hell, and the weird thing was, he had only had them while he was in that cabin; never before and never after.
He was jolted out of his thoughts when he felt his Dad take his hand. He ignored the small pity smile his Father gave him and allowed himself to be led inside the cabin. Like he said before; wasn't like he had a choice.
The wooden porch steps creaked under the weight of three grown men as Dean reached the cabin's front door. Unlocking and pushing it open, he immediately swung the duffel bags off his shoulder and dumped them on the floor, letting the third one drop from his hand.
Sam hesitated before going in, staring into the cabin like he was starting into Hell. A gentle push from his Dad made him want to turn around and let his fist swing, but he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, pushing that urge away. His eyes flew open when he felt Dean take his hand and pull him inside. He turned his head to watch as his Dad shut the door, keeping his eyes on the land outside, wondering how long it was gonna be before he could step over that threshold again.
His feet slipped across the floor, too heavy for him to pick up, as Dean led him towards the living room. The cabin hadn't changed from the last time he was here and Sam was flooded with memories.
1995!
Sam was curled up in the corner of the couch, his arms pressing his knees so hard into his chest that Sam was sure he would get bruises. Dean and Dad would flip out if he did, but Sam didn't loosen his hold, getting some kind of spiteful satisfaction from it. His family may not allow anyone to hurt him but how were they gonna stop him from hurting himself?
It had been four days since Dad and Dean had brought him here, and Sam was already climbing the walls with boredom. The rules had been laid down from the start:
Outside was off limits.
No TV, no books, no phone, no school.
Instead of his normal bedtime, which had been ten o'clock, Dean had changed it to eight-thirty.
But Dean hadn't told him how long for. No matter how many times Sam had asked how long he was "grounded" for, the answer was always the same.
"'Til I say so, Sam. Don't ask again."
Sam frowned and clenched his hands into fists, turning his head away from the locked window he had been staring out of. On the second day of being here, Sam's anger had gotten the better of him and he had smashed the kitchen window in his desperation to get away. His tantrum had been cut short by the sharp tap to his leg by his Father's fingers and Dean's promise that another month had been added to his grounding.
Sam squeezed his eyes tight to stop the build of the familiar sting. Another month, Dean had said. Fear had replaced the anger and Sam had stayed quiet ever since. In order to keep his fear under control, Sam had spent the past two days trying to rationalize his family's behaviour. Thousands of kids around the world get grounded by their parents; Sam himself had been grounded multiple times, having had to spend a week or two in a Motel room.
But this time seemed different and Sam's fear was growing each time Dean refused to tell him how long he was locked here for. Dean had promised him four years ago when Sam had first found out about their secret that if Sam ever ran he wouldn't see the outside world for as long as he lived.
Surely Dean wasn't gonna actually keep him here for the rest of his life, right?
Sam wrapped his arms tighter around his knees, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down.
Surely Dad wouldn't allow that? Surely Dean wouldn't do that to him?
Right?
Sam dropped his head on his knees, leaning further into the arm of the couch. The silence in the living room was driving him insane and Sam had to stop himself from turning the TV on. Dean and Dad were in the kitchen cooking dinner, but apart from the clanking of plates and the dull mumble of their voices that Sam could barely hear, the cabin was silent.
"Sammy."
Sam kept his head down, ignoring his brother's shout from the kitchen. Considering John and Dean were gonna be the only people he was gonna see for the near future, Sam wanted to spend as little time with them as possible.
"Sam, come on. Dinner's ready."
Maybe if he pretended to be asleep they would leave him alone. Sam inwardly scoffed to himself. Like his Dad would ever let him skip a meal. John already thought Sam was too small and skinny for his age and had often woken him up from a nap to eat something.
As if on cue, Sam heard the heavy footfalls of John's boots in the hallway, coming to a stop at the end of the couch. He flinched slightly as John placed a hand on his shoulder, having to stop himself from jumping to the other side of the room and away from one of the people that were keeping him locked up here.
"Sam."
Sam sighed, realising that he couldn't hide away from them any more. Lifting his head, he blinked against the light in the room, staring at John's feet instead of his face.
John looked at his youngest son sadly, seeing the dried tear tracks on Sam's cheeks. Instead of commenting on it, John squeezed Sam's shoulder.
"Didn't you hear your brother calling?" He asked.
Sam mutely shook his head, preferring that answer to telling his Dad that he had purposely ignored them.
John gave him a small smile as he brought his hand up and tenderly wiped Sam's cheek. "Dean made your favourite." He said as he took Sam's hand and pulled him from the couch.
Sam had no choice but to follow his Dad into the kitchen and tried not to cringe away from Dean's bright smile as he entered the room.
"Sammy. Sammy. Hey, you in there?"
Sam blinked and instinctively moved his head away from Dean's hand waving in front of his face.
"There you are, Kiddo. You spaced out on us." John spoke from where he stood at Sam's side, his right hand stroking up and down Sam's back.
Dean frowned in concern, bringing his hand up to lay it gently against the side of Sam's neck. "You okay, Sammy?"
Sam didn't respond, staring at Dean with blank eyes and wondering how the hell his brother had the audacity to ask such a question. It was close to a full minute before Dean started to get uncomfortable under Sam's unblinking stare.
"Alright, okay." Dean relented, nodding his head. With his hands on his hips, Dean looked over his shoulder at the living room before looking back at Sam. He tilted his head in the direction of the couch. "Why don't we sit." He suggested, placing a hand on Sam's elbow and gently pulling him forward.
Sam moved slowly to the couch, his entire being feeling drained and heavy as his feet slid across the dark laminated floor. Sam dropped down onto the sofa, Dean's hand on his arm slowing the motion down. His big brother hovered over him for a moment before taking a seat in front of him on the coffee table as John sat down beside him on the couch. The deja vu of the scene hit Sam painfully in the chest.
Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he let his hands dangle down in the space between.
"Didn't think we'd be back here after the last time." He started, looking around the place again before looking back at Sam. "But here we are." He sighed. He paused to stare at his little brother for a moment, watching as Sam stared at the floor. "Why are we here, Sam?"
At first, Sam thought the question was rhetorical. He was here because he was forced to be here. But Dean's silence made it clear that his brother wanted an actual answer.
"Because you're mentally ill." Sam croaked out, speaking before thinking. He flinched when Dean firmly smacked his knee with his hand.
"This attitude is only gonna get you so far, Sam." Dean stated in a low but stern voice. "So cut it out before I lose my patience and tell us why we're here."
Sam's tense shoulders tiredly dropped as he slouched back against the couch. "I dunno, Dean." He whispered in defeat, tears clogging the back of his throat.
Seeing his brother looking so small and feeble, Dean decided to take pity and explained.
"We're here for a number of reasons, Sam. The first one..." He held up a finger before letting his hand drop back down. "...is because it's been three years since we were together as a family. So for..." Dean paused, contemplating for a moment before he shook his head. "...however long we're here for, think of it as Family Time. The second reason is because of Jessica."
Sam's shoulders tensed back up at the sound of her name, the pit of his stomach burning as anger rose up inside him – and his Dad's hand covering his own didn't help to quell it down.
Dean paused, watching Sam's reaction as he spoke. "You're obviously still upset about that..."
"Upset?" Sam spat out, his eyes flying up from the floor to stare at Dean in disbelief. "My girlfriend is dead and you think I'm just upset?" He had to force the words out through clenched teeth as he gave into the urge to throw John's hand off.
Dean held his hands up in the universal 'calm down' sign. "Sammy..." He said, trying to pacify his brother.
But Sam wasn't listening. "I may have been the one to light the friggin' match, Dean, but Jess would still be alive if it weren't for you." Sam glared, ignoring the water building up at the bottom of his eyes to spill down his cheeks.
"No one's arguin' that point, Sam." Dean agreed, absently shaking his head as he let his hands drop. He opened his mouth to continue but Sam cut him off.
"Just tell me why." Sam demanded, flinging himself away from the back of the couch to sit on the edge of it. "Why the hell would you take away the best damn thing that ever happened to me?" His voice rose with each word as more tears spilled down.
"Because she took away the best thing that ever happened to me!" Dean retaliated harshly, leaning forward more so that he was inches away from his brother. "She took you away, Sam..."
"HOW?!" Sam yelled, abruptly standing up to tower over Dean. "How the hell did she take me away, Dean? If I recall correctly, I had already left by the time I met Jessica! She had absolutely nothing to do with me leaving! She was an innocent, naïve girl who had no idea...!"
"You knew better than to speak to her!" Dean stood also, pointing his finger at Sam's chest as he shouted back. "You don't speak to stranger's, Sam, we taught you that...!"
"So you wanted me to live my life on my own?! Oh, no, wait. You wanted me to live it by your side, because that's not creepy at all..."
"You're my brother, Sam...!"
"Exactly!" Sam screeched, waving his arms in the air as he tried to get his brother to listen. "I'm your brother, Dean, not your goddamn friggin' possession! Brothers are suppose to grow up and leave the bloody nest...!"
"You were sixteen when you left, Sam, you weren't exactly 'grown up'..." Dean scoffed.
"Well, if you and Dad weren't murdering Psychopaths than I wouldn't have had to leave at sixteen!"
"ENOUGH!"
Both brothers jumped at the sound of John's voice booming around the living room. Standing inches away from each other, both their chest rising and falling rapidly, they stared at their Father as John stood from the couch.
"You're acting like a pair of bloody kids, and I've had about enough of it." John said sternly, looking from one son to the other. Deciding to deal with his youngest first, he turned to Sam. "You know better than to talk to your brother like that, Sam." Seeing Sam's mouth open, John rushed on, holding up a hand to stop his youngest from speaking. "I don't care! You have a lot of issues with us, we get that. And we will deal with those issues respectfully at another time. But for now you will sit your ass back on that couch and listen."
Seeing Sam's mouth open to protest for the second time, John stepped forward.
"You do not wanna make me tell you again, Son." He spoke in a low, dangerous tone that made Sam pause. Staring firmly into Sam's eyes, John pointed to the couch. "Sit. Down."
Sam dropped his eyes to the floor, all his anger and fight leaving him instantly as he obeyed his Dad and sat back down. It wasn't often John laid down the law like that – it was normally Dean who took no bullshit – so when he did, you shut up and listened.
John watched his youngest for another moment, allowing Sam to feel his stare on him before he turned to Dean. Somewhere in the middle of him telling Sam off, his oldest had walked across the room. He watched as Dean ran a hand over his mouth, trying to calm himself down. His oldest was already silently berating himself for getting into an argument with Sam, John could tell.
"And you." John finally spoke, his voice much calmer.
Dean turned his head slightly in John's direction, letting his Dad know he was listening.
"What's gotten into you?" John asked with some concern. "You don't normally allow arguments, Dean, so what's going on?"
Dean ran his hand through his hair, massaging the back of his neck as he took a deep breath before letting it out.
"I know. I know, I'm sorry, okay. I guess..." He let his arm fall back down to his side. "I guess I just let my anger get the better of me." He explained softly.
John walked around the coffee table to stand closer to his oldest. "Which you've never let happen before..."
"Yeah, well..." Dean cut in. "Sam's never gone missing for three years before either, just to shack up with some chick..."
Knowing Sam would have something to say about that, both John and Dean turned to simultaneously give Sam a firm glare that had Sam closing his mouth quickly and looking back down.
With his jaw clenched, Sam had to once again stop the tears from building. His Father had just told him off about speaking to Dean with disrespect but says nothing to Dean when Dean disrespects his dead girlfriend? She wasn't just some chick, she was...Sam shook his head and roughly wiped his arm across his eyes. It didn't matter any more; what she had been to Sam, or what she could have been to him...it didn't matter. Folding his arms across his chest, Sam slid further down the couch, staring at his knees.
Dean let out another sigh as he turned back to John.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay. Trust me, it won't happen again."
John searched Dean's eyes for a moment before he nodded and clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder in silent support. He knew how his oldest felt; he himself was feeling the exact same thing. The anger, frustration, worry and absolute terror both Winchester men had felt in the three years that Sam had been gone for was enough for any man to lose control a little. Neither of them had ever fully rested in those three years; always on the go, always searching, hoping they'd find their youngest; just to be disappointed every time they had to go back to a Motel without Sam. Frustration building because they never succeeded. Fear rising as each day went by, never knowing if Sam was alive or unharmed. Their nights spent tossing and turning with nightmares about something happening to Sam. Angry outbursts every other week or so because they weren't getting anywhere, Sam had vanished with no trace, no direction to where he could have gone.
Three years of going through all that just to find out that Sam had been living it up with some Bitch in a nice apartment that was down the street from the fancy College Sam had attended every day.
So, yeah. John could definitely understand how Dean felt.
But that was still no excuse for Dean to engage in a full-on fight with his little brother. But Dean already knew that, was already beating himself up for it, so John saw no need to add to the lecture Dean was giving himself.
Dean gave John a slight nod, silently telling his Dad that he had himself back under control. John nodded back and stepped away, allowing Dean to take charge again as he walked back to the couch and sat down.
Dean took one more deep breath before walking over to sit on the coffee table.
"I'm sorry." He apologised to Sam. "I shouldn't have lost my cool like that." He paused to see if Sam would add anything, but when Sam stayed silent he nodded and continued, his voice much calmer than before. "Getting back to it. You need time to grieve, I get that. There's no better place than here to allow you the time you need to do that. You're with your family and it's isolated, so you won't be getting disturbed by outsiders."
Sam stayed silent, not looking away from his knees. There wasn't any point in speaking when they wouldn't allow him to say what he wanted. It was just easier to sit quietly and do what they said. He was tired of fighting against them.
He was just tired.
After a moment of silence, Dean continued.
"You know the third reason, don't ya, Sam?" He asked softly, almost sympathetically as he looked at his little brother.
Sam swallowed around the lump in his throat, only managing to speak in a tired whisper. "I ran."
Dean nodded, placing a gentle hand on Sam's knee. "Yeah, Kiddo." He whispered back. "You ran away. And like I told you the last time, Sammy, that is not acceptable. I won't let you put yourself in danger like that." A sad smile graced Dean's face. "Hopefully this time you'll learn, ay?" He squeezed Sam's knee and patted it twice before leaning back.
Dean brought his arm up and quickly checked his watch. "It's ten to three now and you haven't eaten anything yet." He dropped his arm and tilted his head back to indicate the stairs. "Why don't you go lie down in bed for a bit and we'll come get you once we've made lunch." He grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him off the couch as he stood from the table. Giving Sam a gentle nudge, Dean softly commanded. "Go."
Sam dragged himself slowly towards the stairs, stopping himself from dropping to the floor and falling asleep there. You wouldn't think he had a four hour nap in the car on the drive over here, he was still so exhausted. Grabbing hold of the banister, Sam used it to pull himself up each step, ignoring the feeling of two pairs of eyes boring into his back.
Opening the second door, Sam froze in the doorway as another memory slammed into him.
1995!
Sam sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed furthest away from the door, staring at the white ceiling and counting the dotted texture that stuck out. He'd lost count of the amount of times that he'd lost count and had to start over; the dim light from the lamp on the bedside table making it harder, but at nine o'clock at night his Dad wouldn't let him put the bedroom light on. But counting the dots on the ceiling for the zillion've time was better than nothing, as Sam wasn't the slightest bit tired.
Sam sighed and turned over onto his side, facing Dean's empty bed as he placed his left hand underneath his cheek. It had been a week since they had first arrived and if Sam thought he was bored in the first couple of days than he hadn't known what boredom was.
Sam sighed and closed his eyes, not having anything better to do than try and fall asleep.
It was five minutes later when Sam reopened his eyes. Laying still for a moment, Sam listened to the sounds in the cabin, wondering what had made him open his eyes before he heard the sound again. Banging, from downstairs. He knew Dad and Dean were still awake, due to it only being five past nine at night, but they normally tried to stay quiet when Sam was in bed, not wanting to disturb him. But that banging was quite loud, loud enough to have Sam sitting up in bed with a frown.
"Dad?" Sam called out, pausing for a moment to wait for an answer. When none came, he tried again. "Dean?"
Sam frowned even more when no reply came from Dean either. He pushed the covers off of him and dragged his legs out of bed, sitting on the edge and staring at the bedroom door, as worry made his stomach twist. They always answered him; no matter what they were doing, or how busy they were, they always answered him.
Sam brought his hand up to chew on the side of his thumb nail, wondering if he should go downstairs or lay back down. After another moment of thinking, he dropped his hand and shook his head.
"Dad?" He tried again, raising his voice.
When John still didn't answer, Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, getting off the bed and walking towards the door. He hesitated when his hand touched the door handle, the feeling of dread pooling in his stomach.
Something was wrong. He didn't know what was wrong or how he knew for certain that something actually was, but he just had a terrifying sense that something was so very wrong. Swallowing his own saliva, Sam twisted the handle and opened the door, sticking his head out cautiously.
"Dean?" He didn't mean to whisper but fear kept his voice down. Without opening the door any further, Sam slipped his body through the gap to stand in the hall, keeping his back close to the bedroom door as he stared down the dark hallway with scared and worried eyes. Keeping most of his back towards the wall, he crept further towards the stairs, biting his bottom lip as he quickly checked behind him.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he stared down them into the light below, feeling shaky inside as that sense of 'wrong' grew in the pit of his stomach.
Not taking his eyes away from the bottom of the stairs, Sam missed the yellow glow of two dots in the shadows behind him.
Taking a deep breath, Sam grabbed the banister and slowly stepped onto the first step, his legs almost giving out as they shook harder. He gripped the banister with all his strength as he started the slow walk down, feeling like one of those girls in the horror movies that Caleb had described because Dad and Dean wouldn't let him watch horrors and Sam had been curious. Hearing a creak in the steps behind him, Sam gasped and quickly spun around, throwing his back against the banister.
Nothing.
Sam spent another moment staring into the darkness behind him but didn't see or hear anything else. Reluctantly turning back around, Sam gulped as he carried on down the stairs, feeling like a couple more steps had been added. Finally reaching the bottom, Sam quickly checked behind him again before looking back at the half-open kitchen door where the source of the light was coming from.
Surely Dad and Dean would be able to hear him now?
"Dad?" His voice shook along with his body as he walked forward. He quickly glanced into the living room as he passed by it, only to find it completely empty. Stopping at the kitchen door, he peered into the gap, squinting at the bright light and seeing his Dad sitting at the table, his back towards the door.
Frowning, Sam wondered why his Dad hadn't answered, but the anger at being made to worry for nothing didn't come. Just that sense of wrongness that stayed in his stomach like a solid brick.
Sam slowly pushed the door open. "D-Dad?"
The cold tile floor of the kitchen seeped through his socks but Sam ignored it as he walked closer to his Dad, feeling the tears build in his eyes as fear built in his chest. He wanted to run across the rest of the room, throw himself into the safety of his Dad's arms, but something was holding him back, warning him to approach carefully.
Standing behind his Dad and a little to the left of him, Sam couldn't take his eyes away from the side of his Dad's face as he reached out a shaky hand.
"Dad?" Sam whispered as the tears finally fell, his hand gently landing on John's shoulder. He jumped back, letting out a loud gasp, as John fell forward, his upper chest hitting the table with a loud thump. "Dad!" Sam rushed forward to his Dad's side but froze as he finally looked at his Dad's face.
Or more importantly, at the blood that was covering it.
Sam stared with wide, terrified eyes as his Dad's lifeless eyes stared back at him. It didn't register with Sam what all this meant until he saw the bullet hole in his Dad's forehead.
Sam opened his mouth and took a huge gulp of air before letting it out on a scream as he hurried backwards away from his Dad's body, still not able to look away. His chest rising and falling quickly, Sam's scream trailed off as he remembered that there was someone else missing.
"DEAN!" He screamed as he raced out of the kitchen and back into the hall. "DEAN?!" He yelled again as he reached out to hold the banister, using it to swing himself around to the stairs. He didn't hesitate as he took them two at a time, not questioning why he was running towards his and Dean's room when he knew Dean hadn't been there before. He just allowed his feet to lead him. Throwing open the bedroom door, Sam froze for a second time, not hearing the bang the door made when it connected with the wall behind it.
Dean was laying on his bed, his open eyes staring up at the ceiling. But what bothered Sam the most was the blood. So much blood covering Dean and the once white bedsheets. It was obvious Dean hadn't been shot like his Dad, not with that much blood.
His legs feeling weak, Sam stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall. Sliding down to sit on the floor, Sam brought his arms around his knees as he sobbed, rocking himself back and forth as he stared at his brother's dead body.
"Poor little Sammy."
Sam whipped his head around the room as he heard the hissed words. His vision blurred with tears and his heart pounding, Sam searched the room but didn't see anyone else. The voice wasn't familiar and Sam removed his arms from his knees to place his hands on the floor on either side of himself.
"Who...Who-who's there?" He swallowed down another sob as his eyes zigzagged across each corner of the room.
"I would be offended that you don't know me, but considering Daddy and Dean kept it a secret I'm sure I can forgive your ignorance...in time."
Having no idea where the voice was coming from, Sam slowly pushed himself off the floor, ignoring the shaking in his arms as his head swirled around.
"Who...how...?" Sam swallowed and took a deep breath before trying again. "What the hell is going on? Who are you? Where are you? What the hell did you do to my Dad and Dean?!" Sam shouted as he turned around in circles. He quickly spun around when he heard a laugh from behind him, but still couldn't see anyone.
"Poor little Sammy." The voice repeated, the laughter dying down to a chuckle. "No one's around to protect him any more. All alone, Sammy. You're all alone."
"SHUT UP!" Sam screamed, frantically searching for the owner of the voice. "Who the hell are you?! What do you want?" Sam sobbed out.
"What do I want?" The voice suddenly hissed out sharply. "I want what I've always wanted, what your family tried to take from me." A hard chuckle echoed around the room and Sam covered his ears with both hands to block the sound out.
But covering his ears didn't do much good as he suddenly felt a presence behind him and the voice whispered in his ear.
"You."
Sam sobbed and ran for the door, going with his gut instinct to get away; away from his dead family, away from the voice, and as far away from the cabin as possible. Racing down the stairs, Sam almost fell but gripped the banister and the wall, sliding down a couple of steps before he landed at the bottom, crying all the way. Banging into the front door, Sam grabbed the door handle and twisted it desperately but it didn't open.
Crying out hysterically, Sam continued trying, pulling with all his strength. He froze when he felt the presence behind him again, squeezing his eyes closed as he started to hyperventilate.
"Turn around, Sam. Look at me." The voice demanded.
Sam shook his head wildly, keeping his eyes closed and his back to the voice.
"Look at me!" It snarled and Sam jumped with fright.
Hiccuping his breaths out, Sam slowly turned around, keeping his eyes closed. He flinched back when he felt hot breaths on his face, scrunching his nose at the smell of rotten eggs.
"Open your eyes. Learn your destiny; accept it...accept me. OPEN YOUR EYES!" The voice bellowed, causing Sam to snap his eyes open with a cry of fright.
The man's face was shadowed in the darkness, but Sam could see his eyes and he couldn't look away, staring into the yellow orbs with a terrifying fascination.
"Sam!"
Sam's eyes flew open as his name was shouted, gasping on the breath he hadn't known he needed until now. Feeling hands on his shoulders and seeing someone out of the corner of his eyes, Sam flinched and tried to reel backwards, only for the mattress he was lying on to stop him.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. Sammy, it's okay, you're okay. Come on, Kiddo, come back; everything's fine."
The soothing words spoken in Dean's voice brought Sam back to reality. Looking into his brother's face, Sam reached up and tightly grabbed Dean's arms.
"D-Dean...?" He asked uncertainly, relaxing a little when Dean brought his hand up and swiped it gently through his hair.
"Yeah, Buddy, it's me." Dean reassured. "Must have been some nightmare, ay? Took me awhile to wake ya."
While Dean continued rambling on, Sam's eyes zoomed in on his brother's chest, making sure it was all in one piece instead of the ripped up slashes from his dreams.
His eyes went back to Dean's when he felt Dean's hand on his chin.
"Hey, Baby Brother, you still with me?"
Sam nodded, blinking away the tears as he felt himself starting to relax.
Just a dream. Dean was fine, and if Dean was fine than so was Dad. It was just a stupid dream.
Dean gave him a reassuring smile as he lifted the covers. "Come on, move over."
Sam shuffled over as Dean climbed in the bed, quickly squishing himself against Dean's side once Dean was settled. Dean wrapped his arms around him, once again making him feel safe enough to settle back down.
"You're okay, Tiger." Dean whispered, making sure the last thing Sam felt before going back to sleep was Dean's kiss on his forehead.
Standing in the doorway of the bedroom, Sam was lost in his memories. He jumped when he felt a hand press on his back.
"Whoa, Son." John cautioned. "Just me, Champ."
Sam stared at him for a moment, trying to calm his heartbeat down. Those memories were already screwing with his head and Sam closed his eyes to push them away. He wanted out of here! Those dreams had gotten worse and worse each night. Same dream, same cabin, same yellow-eyed man that Sam couldn't get out of his head for years afterwards. The only thing that changed was the way his family were killed. Every night Sam was forced to wander around the cabin and find his dead family's mutilated bodies.
It had made those six months trapped in here unbearable.
"What are you doing standing here?" John broke into his thoughts. "I thought Dean told you to lie down."
"I was..." Sam coughed to clear his throat. "I was just about to." He whispered and gestured towards the bed furthest from the door.
"Well, dinner's done now." John sighed. "Come on, you can have a nap on the couch after."
Sam nodded and watched as John turned and walked back down the stairs. He eyed the bedroom cautiously for a moment before following his Dad into the kitchen.
{Well? Worth the wait?}
{I just wanna say I'm incredibly sorry! Please don't hate me. :( I had a lot of doubts and insecurities about my writing and writers-block still sucks! I'm ashamed at making you all wait so long, especially after your kind words and support.}
{Which brings me to this point: I am so unbelievingly grateful for each and every one of you! You have no idea how much you have all helped me and I hope I still have your support despite waiting this long to update. I'm gonna try my absolute hardest to get the next chapter up for you a hell of a lot quicker. I wanna say THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH once again. Even though we've never met, you all mean so much to me!}