Author's Note: I seriously debated over how much detail I wanted to put in this chapter. I was tempted to rush through it, but restrained myself, so I hope it meets your satisfaction! :-) Let me know!

SPN

(Atlanta, Georgia … Sunday, November 1, 2005)

"How many people do you think are out there?" Sam asked from the shelter of the groom's dressing room as he, Jacob and Victor finished getting ready. It was almost eight o' clock, and with countless voices and emotions vying for his attention, he felt overwhelmed even with the support of his brother's magical bracelet. According to William, the whole point of the wedding was to illustrate the Styne dynasty's renewal after a brief period of misfortune, and it seemed they invited every malefactor in the supernatural community to witness the event.

How many of them knew about Sam? How many would gladly tear him to shreds? He was a hunter, after all. And what about Azazel? Sam tried psychically searching for his presence, but in such a crowd, it was impossible to distinguish one villain from another.

"I believe we sent out six hundred and seventy-five invitations," Jacob said, fingering the boutonnieres on the credenza. They were all basically the same—dark, velvety roses with seeded eucalyptus—though one had extra frills. Selecting it, Jacob walked over to Victor and pinned it to his lapel. Sam didn't need special abilities to sense the tension between them—they were still upset with each other, and if it weren't for all their guests downstairs, they might have picked up where they left off in Sam's room yesterday.

To make things even worse, Victor kept looking at him when Jacob's back was turned, and Sam couldn't mistake his expression. He was officially the one who got away, and Victor was determined to try again. It was only a matter of time—Jacob couldn't protect Sam forever. And knowing Victor, when he finally made his next move, his savagery would be far more intense due to the wait.

It would happen. Sam could feel the bastard's certainty, and he had no reason to doubt it. The prospect terrified him.

A knock on their door interrupted their preparations, and they all turned to watch a petite brunette stick her head in the room. She was about Jacob's age and she smiled at the sight of him. "Well, there you are!"

"Daisy!" Jacob was clearly pleased to see her, and he welcomed her with a brotherly embrace. "How long has it been?"

"Over a year, obviously," she said, with a southern drawl of her own. She wore a blue knee-length dress with silver strap heels and rhinestones in her hair—just like Jessica in Sam's nightmares, down to the very last detail. "Honestly, Jacob, what took you so long?" She must have been referring to his escape from prison, and he smiled coyly.

"That, my dear, is a story for another time. Come! I believe introductions are in order." He led her over to his cousin. "Victor, allow me to present Ms. Daisy Parson, Executive Assistant to Sheriff Treadwell out in Shreveport. She's a bridesmaid this evening. Daisy, meet the man himself. Dr. Victor Frankenstein, Lilibet's fiancé."

"It's an honor," Daisy said as Victor customarily brought her hand to his lips. Next, they proceeded to Sam, who couldn't hide his dismay. The woman's outfit was like a visual confirmation that Jessica would die in the next few hours, and a hint of inevitability brought tears to his eyes.

"Sam?" Jacob asked in concern. "Are you all right?"

Glancing at the floor, Sam shook his head.

"Sam?" Daisy asked in recognition. "You mean the Winchester boy?"

"Not anymore," Jacob replied patiently. "Sam Styne. He's one of us now." Sam caught his breath as Jacob reached up to stroke his hair, and Victor seethed at the intimacy of it. "Talk to me, little brother. What's wrong?"

Before he could stop himself, he gestured at Daisy. "She's wearing the same clothes that Jessica wore in my nightmares. The premonition's coming true, Jacob. Elizabeth's going to murder her out in the courtyard by the end of the reception." Why he felt the need to tell Jacob, Sam had no idea. It's not like his brother—would-be brother—gave a damn about Jessica.

For a long, drawn-out moment, no one said a word. Daisy was too confused, Victor was too intrigued, and as for Jacob… He was savoring Sam's confession. But then, he glanced at his cousin and got down to business. "Victor, unless I'm mistaken, we don't intend to let your bride run rampant this evening, which means something is about to happen that will compromise Aunt Caroline's control of the situation. Now what do you make of that?"

"I suppose we could tighten security," Victor said smugly. "And I could post some of my creatures out in the courtyard to apprehend the girls before any blood is shed, but first, I'll need Sammy to make it worth my while." He licked his lips suggestively, sending a chill down Sam's spine. Jacob's face darkened angrily.

"No." He marched over to the credenza where he picked up another boutonniere to pin to his own lapel, evidently putting the matter behind him. Sam felt a wave of desperation, and he glanced from Jacob to Victor and back again. If it meant rescuing Jessica, he could suffer anything.

"Jacob, it's all right. I don't mind—!"

"I mind!" Jacob snapped. He grabbed the remaining boutonniere and bore down on Sam with a dominating demeanor. "You listen to me, little brother, cause I hate repeating myself. You are mine." Sam clenched his eyes shut, trembling, as Jacob fastened the rose in place. "No one is taking you from me—not even that demon—and I will be damned before I let Victor touch you. So forget it! If you want to prevent Jessica's death, then I suggest you concentrate on supporting our aunt. That way, Lilibet won't have the freedom to hurt anyone. Do you understand?"

A tear slid down Sam's cheek. "Yes sir."

SPN

To prevent the residents of Buckhead from noticing the steady flow of traffic that disappeared off Monarch Avenue, witches from the Grand Coven imposed misdirection spells throughout the neighborhood. So unless an individual had access to a wedding invitation, a temporary smokescreen would cloud the mind with various distractions and forestall unwanted attention.

A guard stood outside the portal, tracking guests as they arrived. When Bela claimed to be Lucy Westenra with her date, Quincey Morris—characters from Dracula—he didn't question it, but made a note on his clipboard and let them in. Apparently, the Stynes had a flexible admittance policy, and John wondered what other security measures were in place. He had no doubt that leaving would be a greater challenge.

"As I said," Bela gloated when they parked outside the enormous château. "Nothing to worry about." John grunted, staring at the Stynes' safe house in fascination. It was like a French castle, four stories tall with evenly spaced turrets and a whimsical roof line. Lit up in the night, its beauty surpassed expectations, and John had to remind himself it was not a tranquil paradise. It was a gilded cage.

Climbing out of Bela's Mercedes, they followed the crowd up to the main entrance and made their way inside a breathtaking foyer, decorated primarily with roses. Since it wasn't yet time for the ceremony, hundreds of men and women—plus a few humanoid monsters—were mingling happily while scattered violinists maintained a romantic atmosphere. John found the whole situation surreal. He was not accustomed to such wealth, and as a hunter, his instincts were to kill everything in sight. He was behind enemy lines, and he wondered if his disguise would mask his loathing.

As subtly as he could, John pulled Bela's compass from his pocket. She claimed it would guide him to Sam, and he was anxious to get his child as far from this place as possible. But as he carefully regarded the magical implement, his accomplice brushed up against his side.

"Not yet," she advised. "Wait for the reception, when the Stynes are all accounted for. Just because they won't recognize you doesn't mean you want to stumble across one in a restricted part of the house."

She had a point, as much as John hated to admit it. "I bet you're loving this."

Bela smiled. "It's a dream come true."

SPN

The ceremony began right on time in a massive assembly room—the Stynes were nothing if not punctual. As the violinists performed the prelude, a side door opened and the officiant, Arthur Fontaine—John recognized him as the defense attorney from the televised trial—led Victor Frankenstein and his two groomsmen to the altar. John started in astonishment. The first was Jacob Styne, and the second was Sammy. "Oh my God," he whispered under his breath, and Bela reached over to clutch his knee, discouraging further expletives.

What the hell was Sam doing in the bridal party? But then, on second thought, John realized it made sense. The sons of bitches were attempting to integrate him into their family, and they had Jessica to ensure his cooperation. Sick bastards. They were probably getting off on it, too. John's heart sank at the dazed expression on his boy's face. Sam wasn't just uncomfortable in the spotlight, he was disoriented.

And if that wasn't bad enough, he only raised his downcast eyes to glance at Jacob with an all-too-familiar look. It wasn't precisely the look he reserved for Dean when he was frightened, in need of his brother's reassurance, but it was close enough to make John nervous. Sam had spent over a week in the Stynes' captivity. Was he now developing Stockholm syndrome? Damn it!

With Bela's hand resting firmly on his leg, John fought the urge to launch himself at his adversaries, and rather watched in silent fury as the processional began. Of course, his foul mood only worsened when he noticed the mother-of-the-bride walking down the aisle. He recognized her instantly. Beautiful. Fair. Elegant. Strong. She was the love of his life, the mother of his children, the reason he persevered through all his trials.

In that moment, John remembered his conversation with Ellen on Friday night. "I was on patrol with Agents Paulson and Hale. Jess was down in the bar with Agent Burckle. She said she noticed someone watching her, but Burckle had no idea what she was talking about. He didn't see anyone. John… she claimed it was Mary. Your wife."

So Elizabeth Styne's mother was masquerading as Mary Winchester. Again, no doubt to help integrate Sam into their family. No wonder the kid was off his game. He might have been a baby when his mom died, but he had seen plenty of pictures growing up—and John had a horrible sinking feeling that he would never look at those pictures the same way again. The Stynes had tarnished them with their cruelty, and words could not express the extent of John's outrage. He would make every last one of them pay for this!

After the mother-of-the-bride came the bridesmaids. First, a brunette in her thirties named Daisy Parson. She had served as a character witness for the defense during Jacob's trial last year, and according to Dean, she was every bit as corrupt as the Shreveport sheriff. Trailing behind her reluctantly was Jessica Moore, Sammy's girlfriend. John noticed how her expression shifted between fear and frustration—she was a helpless pawn in the fight to conquer Sam, and she knew it.

With everyone in position, the violinists began the Trumpet Voluntary, which John found ironic, and the guests rose in anticipation of the bride. Turning, they watched her appear at the back of the room, leaning on her father's arm. She wore an exquisite princess gown with a fitted bodice and capped sleeves—her diamond tiara made Bela coo—but the tears in her eyes were definitely not of joy.

John didn't personally know Elizabeth Styne, but he knew her history quite well. She had lived during the nineteenth century, and despite her betrothal to Dr. Frankenstein, she had fallen in love with another man—the alchemist, Dr. Thomas Benton. They tried eloping, but her family tracked her down and killed her as punishment for running away. They spared Doc Benton simply to condemn him to a long and lonely life with the knowledge that he would die a wretched old man while Elizabeth would one day be reborn. They would never see each other again.

Of course, Doc Benton took their disdain as a challenge and used his alchemy to gain eternal life. He would spend the next two hundred years waiting faithfully for his beloved's reincarnation, and John understood all too well the anguish that sustained him. When Mary died in that fire… Well, if it hadn't been for Sam and Dean, John might have succumbed to his hatred. In his quest for vengeance, he might have lost his way, becoming no better than the monsters he hunted. Just like Doc Benton. In many respects, they were quite similar.

But where was Doc Benton now? John couldn't say, and judging from Elizabeth's defeated posture, he wasn't coming to rescue her. That was too bad. The hunter and the alchemist were natural enemies, but against the Stynes, they worked well together. John could have used his assistance.

Once Elizabeth and her father reached the altar, the guests took their seats, and Arthur Fontaine began a lengthy sermon about a new era for the Styne dynasty. It was very sinister and made subtle references to an upcoming calamity that John would have ignored if he didn't see his son's tension. The demon had plans for Sammy, and the Stynes were in on them.

After about forty minutes of that, the bride's father gave her away to Dr. Frankenstein, and the vows were promptly exchanged.

"I, Victor, take thee, Elizabeth, as my lawfully wedded wife… to have and to hold… in this life and the next… for all the days to come."

Elizabeth shuddered, and John half expected her to scream, or bolt, or something, but she didn't. Like Sam and Jessica, she was here against her will, and if escape was an option, she would have taken it by now. She was trapped in every sense of the word.

"I, Elizabeth, take thee, Victor, as my lawfully wedded husband… to love and obey… in this life and the next… for all the days to come."

Her voice lacked sincerity, but no one seemed to care—their guests weren't exactly good Samaritans. Many of them were sadistic enough to enjoy her distress, and they envied Frankenstein's power and control over her. In all probability, they were likewise amused by Sam and Jessica's submission. The two prisoners were obviously miserable, but they behaved themselves because the Stynes required it. And who could resist the Stynes?

Silently, Fontaine supplied the groom with an ornate, ceremonial knife. He took it, snatched Elizabeth's wrist, and sliced open her palm. She whimpered—and Jessica gasped—as Frankenstein brought the bloody hand to his mouth and drank his fill. Meanwhile, John clenched his jaw and glanced at Sam—the kid was rubbing the side of his head as if in pain, and Jacob was clutching his other arm supportively. What the hell?

After returning the knife to Fontaine, who placed it on the altar, Frankenstein beckoned for Jacob to produce the wedding ring. A look of alarm crossed Sam's face, and as Jacob complied, fishing around in his pocket for the velvet box, the kid frantically scanned the room, searching for someone. Who? John leaned forward, watching intently. At this point, why would a piece of jewelry, of all things, be cause for concern?

Jacob delivered the ring to Frankenstein, who proceeded to slip it onto Elizabeth's finger. Stepping back, the best man noticed Sam's agitation and frowned at him questioningly. Sam leaned towards him and whispered in his ear. Whatever he said made Jacob sigh, and he whispered a short response that drained the blood from Sam's face.

John found himself staring at Bela, as if she could provide an explanation for this strange development, and to his amazement, she did.

"Oh, Sam's wondering what happened to Cyrus," she said under her breath. "He was supposed to be the ring bearer this evening, but apparently he's in time out."

John squinted at her. "How do you—?"

"I read lips."

Figures. "Who's Cyrus?"

"Jacob's seven-year-old brother." Naturally, she would have done her homework before attempting to rob the family.

John took a deep, calming breath. So… Sammy was bonding with his captors, and he was preoccupied with the well-being of some evil pipsqueak. At this rate, rescuing him would be the easy part. Helping him through the aftermath would be a far more difficult task. But they would cross that bridge later. First thing's first. John had to get him and Jessica out of danger; then they could address any psychological ramifications. In the meantime, John prayed to God that Sam would trust him and, for once in his life, follow his lead.

It was Elizabeth's turn to present a wedding ring. She glanced at her maid of honor—Jessica—who was apparently hiding the velvet box with her rose bouquet, and beckoned with her bloody hand. Jessica hesitated, obviously opposed to the idea. And who could blame her? After all, Frankenstein wasn't volunteering to slit his own palm. This whole ceremony was a barbaric atrocity meant to torment the young bride and gratify her oppressors. Despite everything, Jessica pitied Elizabeth, and would help her if she could.

Unfortunately, that wasn't an option. Against her better judgment, Jessica stepped forward and supplied the ring. Elizabeth took it and submissively slid it on Frankenstein's finger. The twisted smile on his face made John scowl. God, he abhorred these people.

Fontaine raised his arms in benediction. "I now declare thee man and wife! May thy union be illustrious and everlasting, to the honor and perpetual glory of thy kin!" He nodded at Frankenstein. "You may claim your bride."

Instead of kissing her, the bastard grabbed her by the neck and squeezed. She would have yelped, but no sound could escape her throat. Caught off guard, Sam reflexively rushed forward, but Jacob was quick to stop him, dragging him back, and John nearly erupted. How dare he touch his son like that!?

With just one arm, Frankenstein lifted Elizabeth off her feet. He dangled her in the air like a trophy and faced the crowd in triumph. They cheered for him, laughing, applauding, whistling, catcalling. To them, this was the wedding's natural culmination. To Sam, it was a perverse nightmare, and he grappled pathetically against Jacob with horror in his eyes. As for Jacob, he restrained the kid with gentle firmness while whispering tenderly in his ear.

John could have asked Bela to interpret, but quickly thought better of it. If he knew what the scumbag was saying, he wouldn't be able to control his temper, and at that moment, he couldn't afford such recklessness. If he blew his cover prematurely, it would spell disaster, and he couldn't help Sammy if he was dead.

"I'm going to kill them," he nevertheless growled. "I'm going to kill every last one of them, if it's the last thing I do."

Bela glanced at him steadily. "You know what? I forgot how much I detest these wankers. So how can I be of assistance?"

SPN

Please Review!