Well, I wanted to get this posted on Christmas Eve, but...I just wasn't able to get it ready in time. At least I'm not too far past my goal. Anyway...I hope you like it.

Cindy

Two Weeks Later-The Hunt

John turned as the door opened and Dean stepped into the motel room. "Everything packed up, Dean?" he asked, though he knew his son would be on top of things without needing to be asked.

"Yeah, Dad…everything we need to put this kid killing witch out of business," Dean answered, the young man's body almost quivering with excitement.

"Settle down, Dean…there's still much to do before we confront her," John answered absently as he went back to studying the papers spread out before him on the small motel room table.

"Dad, we've researched this bitch to death…now lets put her where she belongs!" Dean shot impatiently.

John glanced quickly over to the bed where Sam lie sleeping then turned back to Dean. "Shhh…don't wake your brother," he said softly as he motioned for Dean to follow him outside.

Once they were outside the door John turned to Dean and grasped his shoulder. "Look, I know you want to get going on this…research is boring…I understand, but…but we have to think about Sammy. We have to figure out how to do this and still keep him safe," he said, his dark eyes gazing intently into Dean's green ones.

Dean nodded and then dropped his eyes to the sidewalk. "I…I was thinking that maybe…maybe it would be best to leave Sam here, Dad. This witch…she's pretty bad ass and I'm afraid she'll zone in on him," he said as he lifted his eyes back up to his father's face.

"I've thought about that, but it won't keep Sam safe. This witch is targeting kids Sam's age…five in the past two months and two of those were taken from area motels. He would be a sitting target. We can't leave him in the car either for the same reason. The only way to keep him safe is to keep him with us," John answered.

Dean leaned back against the wall and sighed heavily. "That's why you wanted to leave him at Bobby's isn't it? 'cause you knew how much danger he'd be in here," he said softly.

"Dean…"

"I'm sorry, Dad. I was a jerk to you and you were just thinking about Sammy. I was selfish…"

"No…you were right. We stick together, Dean…as a family," John interrupted.

"But…"

"Dean, I don't know if Sam's going to get his sight back or not, but if he doesn't…he needs to learn how to handle himself on a hunt. He needs to get back on the horse so to speak and…"

"But this one, Dad? Maybe we should wait for a regular old ghost hunt or something."

John shook his head, backed up and planted himself on the hood of the Impala. He watched Dean for several moments before he let out the breath he was holding. "I thought about that, but…"

"But what?"

"If I had left him at Bobby's, Sam would have lost all trust in me and to tell you the truth…I would have lost trust in myself."

Dean cocked his head and eyed his father with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"If I had left Sam, I'm afraid…I was afraid that it would become too easy to continue doing it and before you know it he wouldn't be mine anymore. Neither of you would be and I just couldn't do it. Maybe that was selfish of me, but you two are all I've got and I can't lose you, Dean. I've lost too much already." John dropped his chin and shook his head. He glanced over when he felt Dean sit down beside him.

"Dad, you're not selfish," Dean started. He nudged his father's shoulder and grinned over at him. "I get it…and…you're not gonna lose us, okay?"

John smiled back and nodded gratefully. He stood, clapped Dean's shoulder and stepped toward the room door. "C'mon, Sam'll be waking soon and he'll wonder where we are," he said.

Dean stood and followed his father, his outer calm hiding the inner turmoil and fear that nearly had him paralyzed.

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John brought the Impala to a halt behind a stand of trees that stood between his family and the house that evil built. The witch who had been terrorizing the town of Golden Oak, Ohio for the past two months, and most likely the last few hundred years if John's research was correct was inside, or so John hoped. He couldn't know for sure other than every other disappearance had occurred on a cloudy, rainy night. The skies were clear this night with no showers in the forecast. John turned of the ignition and turned to Dean. He could see the excitement, and the fear, on Dean's face and he knew why. The young man was worried about his brother. Not that John wasn't, but he couldn't let that get in the way of what lay ahead. If he did, he would put his boys in more danger than need be. He reached across the seat and clasped Dean's shoulder. Dean looked over and swallowed nervously. He saw the confidence in his father's eyes and nodded.

"We ready to do this?" Dean said as he turned to look at Sam in the back seat.

Sam smiled nervously as he stared blankly in his brother's direction. John turned around and looked at his youngest son. He saw the fear on Sam's face and momentarily reconsidered taking him into the hunt. Then, Sam straightened in his seat, squared his shoulders and pushed all his fear aside. "I'm ready," he calmly said.

John and Dean's hearts swelled with pride as they gazed upon their youngest family member. Sam had worked so hard the past weeks, helping any way he could to prepare for the hunt and now the time had come. They couldn't turn back now and they knew it. They couldn't allow one more child to become the witch's victim.

"You two stay here while I walk the perimeter. I'll be back in a few minutes," John said as he opened the car door as quietly as he could.

"But, Dad," Dean started.

"No, buts, Dean. I want to check things out before we go in. You and Sam stay here…I mean it," John commanded.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered solemnly.

"Good…I'll be right back."

With that, John closed the door and hurried away into the night. Dean watched his father go and when he could no longer see him, he turned back around and looked at Sam. He stared into the blank eyes and wondered not for the first time what it must be like for his little brother to be constantly trapped in darkness. His throat tightened up as guilt filled him. No matter how hard Sam or his father tried to convince him, Dean knew it was his fault that Sam was blind.

"Hey, Sammy? Can I ask you something?" Dean asked softly as he turned completely in his seat and rested his arms on the seat back.

Sam cocked his head and gazed in Dean's direction. "Yeah…what is it, Dean?" he answered.

"I…I was just wondering…um…what…"

"What, Dean?"

"Wh-what do you see?" Dean finally blurted out.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"You said that you have some sight, but I just want to know…exactly what do you see?" Dean clarified.

"Oh…uh…I guess it's like when you're in a dark room and you can see darker shapes within the darkness. Does that make sense?" Sam answered.

"I guess. So, you can see us moving around, but it's like the lights are out and we're just like…shadows maybe?"

"Yeah…just like that. I can tell when we're outside in the sun 'cause it's not quite as dark, but your shapes aren't as dark either."

"What's it like, Sammy?"

Sam dropped his eyes and took several deep breaths. He lifted his head at the sound of his brother's voice.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to upset you," Dean said softly.

Sam shook his head and smiled at his brother. "No…it's okay. I…I don't like it, Dean. It's kinda scary. I hear things and I can't see them and sometimes I just…I just want to hide," he said softly as he once again dropped his head. "I guess I'm just a fraidy cat, huh?"

"What? No way, kiddo. You're anything but that, Sam. I don't know how you do it if you want to know the truth. I don't think I could handle it as well as you have," Dean said as he leaned further over the seat and gently lifted Sam's face up.

Sam's eyes welled and he brought a hand up to hastily wipe at his eyes before the tears could fall. "I…I hide how afraid I am, Dean," he whispered, his words barely audible to the older teen.

Dean had had enough and climbed into the back seat. He sat next to his brother and smiled when Sam immediately leaned against him. "Sammy, you don't have to hide how you feel," he said softly.

"But, Dad'll think I'm being a baby…"

"No way. Dad would never think that, Sam. If you knew how scared he is sometimes…how scared I am sometimes…"

"Yeah, right, Dean. You and Dad are never scared."

"Are you serious? You have no clue to how wrong you are. And do you know what scares us the most?" Dean asked as he craned his neck to peer at Sam's face.

Sam turned his head toward his brother and lightly shook his head. "Uh…never finding what killed Mom?" he answered softly.

"Well, that's one of the things that scares us, but its not what scares us the most," Dean answered.

"Then what is?"

"Losing you, Sammy. Plain and simple…you're everything to us and we would never survive if we lost you," Dean answered.

Sam's eyes widened as he stared over his brother's shoulder. "Dean…"

"It's true, Sam. It's what scares us more than anything."

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment the front door opened causing Dean to instinctively move his body in front of his little brother, his hand coming up to reveal the pistol that was always within reach. John peered into the backseat and nodded his approval.

"You two ready to roll?" John asked, his dark eyes moving from one son to the other.

Dean glanced over at his brother and smiled. "How about it, Sam…you ready?" he asked.

Sam leaned forward and nodded. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be," he answered.

"Good, let's get moving then. It looks quiet right now, but that won't last, I'm sure of it," John said as he once again shut the door and went to the trunk.

Dean leaned over Sam and pushed the back door open then followed Sam out of the car. Both teens moved to the back of the car where John was busy removing the gear Dean had placed in the trunk earlier in the day. Once they were loaded up, John quietly shut the trunk and turned to his sons.

"Sam, you stay at your brother's side at all times. No matter what, you stay by his side," John said as he knelt in front of his youngest son.

"Yes, sir," Sam said softly.

John squeezed Sam's shoulder then stood before his boys. "Remember, her power comes from not only her altar, but her spell book as well. If you find the altar and book, you destroy them immediately. I want this over as fast as possible," he instructed.

"Yes, sir," both boys answered in unison.

"Keep your eyes and ears open…," John started, but stopped when he looked down at Sam. "Oh, god…I'm sorry, Sammy," he said apologetically.

"It's okay, Dad…really," Sam answered with a warm smile.

John reached out and ruffled Sam's hair then stepped back. He looked over at Dean, his dark eyes intent as he stared into his son's green ones. "You keep him close and stay as close to me as you can. Normally, I'd prefer to split up, but not on this one. This witch has been around for centuries. She's smart and extremely cruel. We get in, find the altar and spell book, destroy them and get out," he said.

"Yes, sir. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to Sam. In and out…no worries," Dean answered as he pulled Sam to his side.

"Okay then, lets do this," John said. He turned and headed toward the dark, imposing house.

Dean took Sam's hand and moved it to his jacket pocket. "Hold onto my pocket, Sam, and don't let go," he instructed. As soon as Sam was ready, Dean followed after John. When they reached the steps to the porch, John ascended first then motioned for his boys to follow.

Dean turned to look over his shoulder at his brother then started up the steps. "Steps, Sammy…be careful," he said and smiled when he felt Sam grip his pocket harder.

Once all three Winchesters were on the porch, John went to work on the front door. It didn't take long before the three of them were standing in what was once the main foyer. John put his finger to his lips and motioned to the room to their right. Dean nodded, made sure Sam was firmly attached to his jacket then followed John into the room. It only took moments to clear the room before they moved to the next, and the next and the next. They covered the main floor in a short amount of time then moved to the second floor. That too was a bust and John was beginning to worry that maybe he'd gotten the location wrong. They moved silently back to the ground floor.

"Okay, the only place left is the basement. Keep tight, boys," John whispered.

"Dad…what if she isn't here?" Dean asked, his green eyes panning around the foyer nervously.

"Then we find the altar and spell book and destroy them. That should render her powerless," John answered.

"What…we just leave her alive?"

"No. We come back for her. We should be able to easily kill her then."

"What if she's gotten another kid?" Sam asked softly.

"Then we'll be here to stop her before she can do anything," John answered as he glanced down at his youngest.

Sam nodded and cast his sightless gaze around the room. He cocked his head as his hand tightened it's grip of Dean's jacket. Dean glanced around at his brother and watch as Sam moved his head slowly around.

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean asked softly.

"I-I don't know…thought I heard something," Sam answered. He swiveled his head around then loosened his grip. "I don't hear it now."

"Where was it coming from?" John asked as he moved closer to his sons.

"I don't know…I couldn't tell," Sam replied before dropping his head.

John looked around then looked back at Sam. "It's okay, Sam," he said then he looked at Dean. "Let's move."

They moved toward the kitchen, the two elder Winchesters watching for any movement in the shadows. John found a door and opened it, his flashlight illuminating a steep staircase leading down into darkness. He glanced back at Dean and nodded before he began to descend the steps. Dean followed with Sam at his side and came to a halt behind John when the man stopped at the bottom of the steps. John panned his flashlight around then stepped further into the dark room. Dean followed, his flashlight held in his left hand, pistol with silver rounds held in his right. Sam held tight to Dean's jacket and followed as best he could.

"Stay close…there's lots of hiding places down here. Look for anything that could be an altar," John whispered over his shoulder.

Dean nodded and panned his light around as he moved to the left of his father. John shown his light into a small room off the main room then turned around and shook his head. Just as he stepped away from the doorway, Sam yelled out a warning.

"Dad! Down!"

John instinctively ducked and felt rather than saw something skim over the top of his head. He immediately brought his gun up and fired, but whatever had tried to jump him had disappeared. He rushed to his sons and cast his flashlight around in a circle.

"Sammy…how did you know?" Dean asked as he too shone his light around trying to locate whatever had attacked his father.

"I…I heard Dad moving around then I heard something else from where he'd just been," Sam explained shakily.

"I didn't hear anything," Dean replied.

John glanced over his shoulder then back out into the room. "They say that people who lose their sight sometimes have more acute hearing," he offered as an explanation.

Dean nodded then stopped his search of the room when his light illuminated something odd. "Dad…I think I found the altar," he whispered. "Over there, by the boiler."

John followed the beam of Dean's flashlight and sure enough, across the room near the old boiler was an old table set up with various objects used in witchcraft. In the center of the table lay an ancient looking tome. John nodded to Dean then silently began to move across the room. Dean nudged Sam then took up behind his father, his eyes scanning continually for any movement. Just as John reached the altar, a black form flew from the corner and crashed into the startled hunter, sending him flying into the far wall.

"Dad!" Dean shouted in surprise as he brought his pistol up and aimed at the black form.

The form turned and Dean gasped at the evil face that stared back at him. Skin that seemed ready to peel away from bone shone gray in the flashlight's beam, while deep, black, soulless eyes stared with hatred at him. John groaned and moved sluggishly behind the witch, but she continued to stare at Dean before her eyes moved to the smaller hunter beside him. Rage flared within Dean when he saw the hunger in her eyes and he fired two rounds into the witch before his weapon was ripped from his hand and he was sent sailing across the room by an invisible force. Sam was jerked from the floor before his hand lost it's grip on Dean's jacket and he crashed to the floorboards with a painful grunt.

"Dean! Dad!" he screamed as he scrambled across the floor, his hands searching futilely for his father or brother.

Suddenly, Sam was pulled up from the floor by the scruff of his jacket and held aloft, his feet scrambling to find purchase, but only finding air. A foul smelling breath ghosted over his face and he felt his stomach lurch in revulsion. He swallowed deeply to keep his stomach contents where they belonged and turned his face away from the revolting smell. He felt a cold, dry hand grab his face then turn it back around before he heard a sniffling sound and felt as the witch sniffed his face and down his neck. He gagged when he felt the witch lick his exposed flesh.

"My, my," the witch hissed as she continued to hold the struggling boy. "A succulent meal delivered right to my door."

Sam suddenly found himself flying through the air, the breath forced from his lungs when he hit something hard and unforgiving. He dropped to the floor onto his side and gasped as he attempted to draw air into his lungs. He heard a shuffling sound and knew the witch was coming towards him. He had to find a way to stop her and save his family. The fact that he couldn't hear either his father or brother told him that they must be unconscious and possibly seriously injured. He couldn't allow for anything to happen to them. He scrambled to a seated position and reached for the knife that was strapped to his calf. Before he could pull the knife free, he was grabbed by his hair and jerked to his feet.

"Uhnnn…" Sam groaned as he was slammed against the wall he had been thrown into. His hands reached up as he tried to pry himself loose from the witches grasp.

The witch cackled as she tightened her grip on Sam's hair, pulling a pain filled cry from the boys lips. "I think I'll have my meal cooked tonight," she cackled.

Sam heard a loud wooshing noise then felt heat coming from his right. His stomach dropped when the implications of what the witch had said hit him. She had brought the boiler to life and intended on cooking him. Whether Sam would be dead or alive at said time of cooking the boy had no idea. He began to struggle further, but the witch's strength was far greater than his.

"Come now, boy…there's no use fighting me," the witch hissed into Sam's ear.

"Leave him alone!" a voice suddenly screamed then Sam heard a high pitched screech before he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

Sam struggled to his feet as the sounds of a fight filled the darkness around him. His skin crawled when he heard the scratchy voice of the witch. "You'll die for that, hunter…"

"Nobody hurts my brother and lives, bitch!" Dean's voice answered, the hatred filling each word with venom.

Sam heard Dean cry out then another screech as the battle continued. He had to find a way to help his brother before the witch made good on her threat. Suddenly, Sam remembered something and he began to stumble toward the source of the heat that now filled the once cold basement. Dean had said the altar was by the boiler. All he had to do was find the altar and the spell book. If he could destroy both, the witch would be powerless and Dean would be safe. He heard a loud crash, followed by a cry of pain before silence filled the room again.

"Dean!" he cried, but no answer came except the low cackle of the witch.

"Dean can't come to the phone right now, little one," the witch called from somewhere behind Sam.

Sam quickened his steps, his hands reaching out before him, searching for the altar. Suddenly, he was hit from behind and thrown forward, his body crashing to the floor, the weight of the witch on top of him. His hair was grabbed and his head yanked up before it was slammed into the ground beneath him. Sam groaned as he felt himself turned over. His shirt was ripped open and he once again felt the putrid tongue on his skin, tasting the flesh just below his collarbone.

"I've never tasted anyone like you," the witch said as she moved up to whisper in Sam's ear.

"G-Get off of me…leave me alone," Sam gasped as he tried to push up against the witch.

The witch merely laughed as she continued to sniff and taste the struggling boy. In his struggles, Sam was able to free one arm and he reached down his leg, his fingers stretching as far as they could before they were finally able to get hold of the hem of his pants leg. He pulled the material up then wrapped his fingers around his knife before pulling it free from its hidden sheath. Without any hesitation, Sam brought the knife up and plunged it into the witch's back as hard as he could. The witch screeched and rolled off of Sam, her hands reaching frantically behind her back for the knife that protruded just below her shoulder blade.

Sam struggled to his feet and staggered forward, once more trying to find the altar. Suddenly, his feet caught on something and he fell forward, the boy crying out as his cheek hit the edge of something hard. Groaning, but knowing he had no time to waste, Sam reached up and gripped the edge of what he now knew to be a table of some sort. He pulled himself to his feet and felt along the table with his hands. He found several items that felt like bones and was sure he was at the altar. He frantically felt along the table until his hands moved over what felt to be a large book. This was it, the spell book that granted the witch her powers. Sam grabbed the tome up and turned, but before he could find the opening to the boiler, he was grabbed around the throat and slammed into the wall.

"I'm going to rip you apart you filthy little bastard," the witch hissed as her hands tightened around Sam's throat.

Sam dropped the book to the ground and brought his hands up to scratch futilely at the gnarled hands that were strangling him. His feet kick out, but the witch only laughed as she squeezed the life from the weakening boy. Sam's struggles slowed until finally his arms dropped limply to his sides, his legs dangling, feet just inches from the ground. He knew he was going to die. Worse, he knew that he had failed his family and that they too would pay the ultimate price for his weakness. The last thing he felt was an intense heat washing over him before he felt no more.

Hmmmm...a Christmas cliffie. How nice of me! LOL I hope you all don't hate me now! I promise you won't have to wait too long to find out the fate of our favorite hunters. Until then...

Cindy