A/N: As usual, I feel the need to apologize for my lack of attention to the comments left after each chapter. Please remember that I do so enjoy reading the thoughts and views of everyone that reads, even if I'm an inconsiderate jerk when it comes to answering. These chapters are usually posted a couple days after they go up at the other site their on and sometimes I just forget. Sorry as usual, and I hope you enjoy the update.

Chapter 12

The longer he stood there, he honestly didn't think he could do it, and for Dean to let a thought like that cross his mind was a rarity. He could barely breathe, barely see straight, and could barely stop shaking for more than two seconds at a time, but the little voice he kept hearing over and over in his head told him he had to. He had to get moving because Sam and Bobby were in danger, he knew that for sure and he could feel it in his bones right along with all the other aches and pains he felt.

Iliana had told him her daughter was somehow holding Sam inside that house, told him that when he threatened to go storming in when he'd first gotten there and found the dead body frozen in the snow. She had killed her own father, for some reason still unknown to him, and then taken Sam, and now she had Bobby too, but for what he was still in the dark. He knew from his father's journal and from things Bobby had told him in the past that an eclipse held significance to many different aspects of the supernatural world, from paganism to witchcraft and if certain rituals were performed properly under them, they held unimaginable power. His first assumption had to be that the girl was some kind of witch though, since he'd never really gotten around to asking her mother what her motives for murder had been before she seemed to have disappeared. All that on top of the fact that Iliana had been missing long since before that gargantuan beast that he was pretty sure had been a dog had forced him from his peaceful sleep. No, he had to go, and he had to go now, before that eclipse started, but he wasn't ready, not quite yet.

Dean searched the entire barn to no avail for the .45 and his knife that he knew he had brought with him but came up empty handed in his quest for either one. He had no idea what he'd be stepping into once he entered that house but it would more than likely be a big, steaming pile of shit that would surely stick relentlessly to his boots, especially considering he now had no weapons of any kind to take in with him. He firmly believed that if he went in empty handed, he was pretty much signing himself up for a suicide mission. Scouring every inch of the musty barn but finding nothing of use, he decided his only viable option was to try and make a break for Bobby's truck. It wasn't that far, not really, and it had to have something of value tucked away somewhere inside it. Hunters like Bobby never went anywhere without even the most rudimentary weapons, and he decided he would be happy with just about anything right about now, especially if it was sharp.

Creeping through the door and out into the bright light of what he assumed was morning, he slowly made his way to the end of the building and peered around the corner to scan the area. His entire surroundings were like a desolate, snow covered wasteland that seemed devoid of all traces of life, and the feeling it gave him was a little too unsettling. With no cover to hide behind between here and there, he dropped onto his hands and knees again, just as he had when he'd come to the barn in the first place, and crawled away from his shelter all the way to the side of the beat up, old pick-up that was hidden from the view of the house, having no idea if the killer blonde may be watching him from inside. Bobby had blessedly left it unlocked, and he clumsily jerked open the door and crawled inside, the journey to the vehicle leaving him tired and breathless.

He could feel his chest start to constrict to an almost unbearable level as he turned onto his back and took in short, quick breaths, trying to get oxygen in without spewing a lung or two out. His head throbbed painfully against the bench seat that he found himself lying on in the cab as his heart pounded steadily in his chest, and almost every inch of his formerly dry shirt was now soaked through from either snow or sweat. He didn't think he had anything left in him, and was sure all he really wanted to do was just curl up and quietly pass away right here…until he heard the dog barking. The barking that was coming from inside the house. That killer dog must be inside the house. Inside the house that Sam and Bobby were in.

"Story of my life; can't even roll over die when I want too," he half-heartedly grumbled as he forced himself onto his side and reached for the glove box. Cracking a small smile when he saw what he was pretty sure would be there, he reached his shaking hand in and pulled out one of Bobby's favorite, fully loaded Glock 22s. Resting innocently underneath the battle ready weapon was one of Bobby's razor sharp knives, also ready for action at a moment's notice. Fully armed with a weapon in each hand, he slid back out of the truck and onto the snow again, letting his body sag against the side for just a minute to let the haziness that had suddenly crept into his head when he moved a little too fast clear itself out. "You better still be alive in there Sammy, or I swear I'm gonna kill you."

Laying with his stomach and chest against the frigid ground, he studied the entire house from one end to the other, trying to figure out the best way of getting inside without hopefully being discovered, and decided his only obvious choice was through the entrance to the cellar at the back of the house. He'd seen it when he had accidentally introduced himself to the poor, unfortunate Mr. Moore, and from his fuzzy recollection, he didn't remember seeing it locked. Nothing but a bungee cord wrapped around the handles was keeping those doors closed, and access would be more than easy.

Crawling back exactly the way he had come through the small trench he'd made on the excursion there, he shielded himself behind the barn once again and inched his way down to the farthest end before turning the corner cautiously, mindful of stepping over the former man of the house to avoid another face to face that his lungs probably couldn't take. The sheer size and position of the barn kept him hidden from view where he was, and as he finally made it to the corner of the structure that was closest to the house he took in one short, quick breath before attempting what he honestly didn't think he could or should do, but had to try anyway.

He sprinted the distance between the two dwellings in the fastest speed he could handle without stopping until he safely reached the porch at the back door. His chest burned with what felt like the fires of hell, every new breath he tried to take in meeting with some sort of resistance now until he could no longer contain the fresh round of hacking that broke out after repeated attempts at air intake threatened to start what he now couldn't stop once the fluid that had so mercilessly built up in his lungs again was coming out with ease until he didn't even need to cough to bring it up anymore, the simple act of exhaling did that job quite well now.

He was determined to stay on his feet though, and instead of collapsing on the porch in an overheated heap, he bent over at the waist, pressed his hands on his knees and steadied himself by resting his ass against the door, praying every noise he made had gone unheard as he felt the warm sweat dripping from his brow. Minutes passed without any sounds coming from anywhere but him and when his head finally cleared and he could stand again, he marveled at the bloody mess he'd left behind in various places. There were no more greens or browns mingled in with the pink anymore, now it was just all red. Wiping his lower lip on the back of his hand, he couldn't help but notice that same crimson color streaked on his own skin, and he just shrugged as he wiped it away on his jeans with one quick swipe. At least he could breathe again now that he'd emptied the contents of his lungs out, at least a little anyway.

Not wanting to go in blindly, he peered through the glass in the door to get somewhat of an inkling of the layout of the place. Beyond the kitchen, which is what he was obviously staring at, he saw nothing but a closed door. He had no idea what the rest of the house looked like inside and at this point it probably didn't matter, he just needed to get in there, find his brother and Bobby, and Iliana for that matter too, and get them the hell out. He was half tempted to try the doorknob to see if he could easily gain access to the house until he saw the door to the kitchen that led to the inner spaces of the home start to open, the brief glimpse of blonde hair he did actually catch with his blurry eyes enough to make him drop to the ground and roll off the tiny porch and cower underneath it.

He heard the outer door creak open and watched through an opening in the slats as Sam's captor stepped out into the cold with nothing more on than a light sweater and a tight pair of jeans to scan the area, her face indicating she had heard something as her eyes darted from left to right like an animal searching for its hunter. Even with his blurry vision he recognized her and the sight of her face made his blood want to boil. Dean wanted nothing more than to just shoot her now and end the entire ordeal, but until he knew who, or what, exactly she was he just couldn't do that yet. The sight of blood spattered on her hands and upper arms made that awfully hard though as his finger started twitching on the trigger and had she not jumped down from the porch he probably would have just gone ahead and pulled it.

He dropped himself down to ground level and continued watching her as she walked the length of the house, seeing nothing but her calves and feet and realized she had on no shoes, which he found very strange since she was walking undaunted through icy cold snow. He let the thought go as he spied her turn the corner and disappear around the side of the house and decided it was time to make a move. He rolled out from under his cover and slowly crawled up onto the porch, opting to try the door just for the sake of ease and met no resistance when he turned the knob. The door drifted open with what sounded almost like a groan and before Dean could even realize what he was doing, he had slipped inside and shut it behind him.

The kitchen was small and somewhat dark with the only light illuminating it coming from the small window in the door he'd just passed through and he quietly crossed the less than adequate space in a very short distance to reach that door that led to the rest of the house. He crossed his fingers as he pushed the swinging door open just enough to see what was beyond it and cursed when his eyes fell onto nothing but a wall and another door and since all he could see inside that room was a toilet, he knew he'd at least found a bathroom should he need one. He hoped that she was still outside as he slid his body through the small opening he'd made, pretty sure she was working solo by what Iliana had told him but not wanting to make any more noise than he already had and give his position away should she not be.

The hall in front of him wasn't long, but it was narrow and he tiptoed down it silently as he pressed his back against the wall, telling himself it was for stealth but knowing it was really for support. His steps were slow and careful now that he seemed to be having issues keeping his vision straight, and he had to pause briefly between each step to allow his eyes to correct themselves somewhat. The farther down the hall he went, the brighter everything seemed to get until he finally came to a wide open space filled with glaring sunlight and for a second it seemed to blind him and nearly threw him off balance when he tried to shield his eyes.

When the black spots that were doing a frenzied dance in front of his retinas finally seemed to run out of music and took their seats somewhere away from his head, he took a good, long look around the room. The walls were bare, the furniture had been pushed to the sides, and there was a huge fire burning in the fireplace that graced the farthest wall. The room felt cold, even with that roaring fire to warm the space, and as Dean looked up, he quickly figured out why. Continuing to move slowly down the wall, part of the room that was still blocked from his view started coming into focus and from what he could see so far, he was alone. With his gun raised and ready, he took a few more cautious steps in as he quickly scanned the room before stopping dead in his tracks when he saw what he couldn't believe he was seeing.

Sam and Bobby were bound to the wall behind them like they were being crucified for their sins, gagged to ensure neither one of them could speak and worst of all, covered in blood. Sprawled out at his brother's feet was the blood-soaked, lifeless body of Iliana and Dean was convinced she had to be dead. There was too much blood around her for her not to be. Making a move forward as he shifted his gaze from Sam to Bobby then back to Sam, he froze as his eyes met Sam's horrified stare and his little brother immediately looked from Dean to the floor before training his eyes back on him like he was trying to tell him something without being able to say a word.

Dean turned his head to see what Sam had been trying to wordlessly communicate to him and stared in total shock at what was on the floor as he unconsciously started drifting towards it to get a better look. He somehow knew he had seen it before, a long time ago, but couldn't quite remember where or when. The closer he got though, the harder his heart pounded in his chest as his mind tried to remember what it had so desperately wanted to forget. Standing just outside the circle of what was clearly a devil's trap ringed in very old, dried blood, he suddenly couldn't breathe when he caught sight of the large stain in the center, everything came flooding back in all at once and all he could do was turn his head to look at the elder hunter before he crumpled to his knees.

"Bobby," he whispered the man's name as he landed hard on the floor and grasped his head in his hands as he just started shaking, the pounding inside it nearly unbearable as he waited for all the details to finish falling into place. One by one the recollections bore through his head and stabbed him directly in the heart; the game of concentration his brain was playing all on its own making him oblivious to the fact that he was once again spewing blood all over the floor.

The only thing that brought him even close to some kind of reality was the sounds of Sam bucking and jerking with all the strength he had against the wall supports he'd been fixed to in a frantic attempt at freeing himself once he saw his brother's inevitable collapse. That, and Isabel fast approaching him as he fell on his side and quivered.

"Welcome Dean, so glad you could join us. We've been waiting for you," she grinned as she bent down next to him and stoked his burning forehead. "You remember now, don't you?"

Fueled by instinct alone, he said nothing as he quickly raised the gun he still had clutched in his hand and pulled the trigger without barely aiming and watched as the bullet it projected tore a hole in her head right between her eyes. She fell to the floor in a bloodless heap as the sound of the discharge somehow forced Dean to his feet. Staggering in his brother's direction, he took all of three steps when out of nowhere he was confronted by the cold, black eyes of Ilsa as she dropped from the ceiling like a cat and stood directly in his path. He'd been so stunned by the sight of her black eyes that he couldn't stop his stumble and fall backwards, but as he headed to the ground once again, he was caught in the waiting arms of Isabel, who was now holding him tight against her as she whispered in his ear.

"That wasn't very nice Dean, was it?" She scolded, and he could barely get a word out when he realized there were two of them, and they weren't just witches. They were demons, and they all three of them were probably screwed. He had no energy to fight them and he just let his body go lax in her crushing arms.

"What did you do to them?" He finally spit out after a long moment of silence, each woman waiting for him to ask before offering anything up.

"Well, Sam there was being a little belligerent and a tad defiant, so we just decided to show him who was boss. Nothing like a few shots to the head to make someone curb their tongue. As for Bobby, well, we just wanted to beat the crap out of him for the fun of it. Payback's a bitch, right?" Ilsa answered him as Isabel just enjoyed feeling the heat emanating from him as she hung on to his burning body.

"What do you want from them?" He muttered, not even bothering to put up a struggle.

"Who said anything about them? Why, it's you Dean. We want you," she crooned softly in his ear.

"Then let them go," he begged as he fixed his stare on his brother, who was clearly screaming 'NO' with the glare he returned.

"Oh, we'll let them both go, just as soon as you agree to our terms," Ilsa taunted with a smirk.

"Whatever you want, I'll do whatever you want, please, just don't hurt them anymore and let them leave," he pleaded as he stared at Iliana's corpse on the floor. He was convinced that would be Sam and Bobby's fate soon if he didn't do exactly what they wanted, and at this point he would agree to just about anything if it would save them.

"Are you sure you mean that before you even know what we're asking for?" She questioned one final time and grinned from ear to ear when he finally collapsed.

"What is it you want?" He breathed out, barely able to stay conscious anymore.

"I thought you'd never ask."