AN: Well, I was bored, and instead of studying for my world geography test, I decided I really wanted to update. The only reason you guys got this was because of the three-day weekend. I'll be studying for finals this week and this weekend, so probably no update (seriously) for about three weeks.

Also, I hope if you read this you could at least leave a quick review to tell me what you think, it inspires me to keep going. I'm a terrible reviewer (Gotta work on that) so I shouldn't be talking. And by the way, I rose the rating to be safe. There's going to be a lot of violence and possibly gruesome images in future chapters, and our boys don't have the cleanest mouths in the world.

Disclaimer:

Dean: If she did own Supernatural, she wouldn't worry about what the writers would do

Sam: We would worry about if we would live

/…/…/…/…/

Chapter 4: Duck

Sam moved closer to his brother so that they were now back to back. Dean was tense at his back, and Sam looked past his brother to see if there was anything there, but all there was following his brother's gaze was darkness.

The wheezing laughter from moments ago began again, and Sam looked franticly around the room, begging his eyes to adjust to the darkness soon so he could see what was going on. Dean was incredibly stiff at his back, as if he knew something was going to happen.

Sam felt something cold brush roughly past him. "Dean watch out!" he cried, but Dean had already gone flying across the room, and landed right next to a body. The body of a boy.

"Oh God," Sam muttered, turning his gaze away. Instead he gazed around, hoping to see some trace of what he was looking for. He caught a glimpse of something moving toward Matt and Dean, but as soon as he tried to get a better look it was gone. The ax lodged in the teenager's head was lifted and Sam winced. His eyes followed the ax it flew around the room.

Dean, meanwhile, was reaching for his gun, even though he knew it wouldn't be there. Sure enough, his gun was missing, and he realized with frustration that it must have fallen to the floor while he was dangling from the hole in the ancient floor.

Suddenly, Dean remembered what had happened next. He started to move away from Matt, but found himself flying, as he had in the dream, toward the bookcase. As his shoulder got acquainted with the floor where it had landed after the crash, the bookcase swayed dangerously and then began its descent on to Dean.

"Not this time," Dean growled and rolled out of the way. The bookcase still managed to catch his foot underneath it, but at least he knew he'd be able to walk again.

Sam had taken his eyes off the ax for a split second to watch Dean roll out of the way of the bookcase. He was about to ask if Dean was alright, but Dean interrupted him. "Duck! NOW!"

Sam, not one to question the desperation in Dean's voice, fell to the floor as the ax soared over his head. It lodged itself in the bookcase beside Dean, who was panting with what Sam assumed was the weight of the bookcase. He hastily made his way over as the ax began to be tugged free of the bookcase. He lifted it as much as he could, and Dean got his foot out from under the bookcase and stood, wincing only slightly at the pain of putting full weight on both feet.

"Well Sammy, what the hell are we dealing with?" Dean asked, relieved to see his brother had gotten off better then Matt.

"It's Sam," he replied distractedly as he watched the ax hover in the air. "I don't understand why we can't see it," he muttered more to himself then Dean.

Dean glared at the ax, as if daring it to take another shot at him and Sam. "Who knows Sam? You sure it's not just the ax that's going all crazy on us."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Have you forgotten the laughter and the," Sam stopped the conversation as the ax flew at them again. Him and Dean dodged to the side and the ax flew into the wall. "The fact that whatever the hell this thing is likes throwing you around?"

Smirking, Dean backed away from the ax. "At least I was good at dodge ball, no one could touch me. What about you?" Dean asked as they moved closer to the door leading to the main room.

"I always caught it."

"I don't think you want to catch this," Dean said smirking.

Quite suddenly Sam was gone from his side, thrown backwards and back into the main room. Dean growled and stepped backwards, away from the ax and called over his shoulder to make sure Sam was okay.

"Fine," Sam said, standing from his position on the floor and reaching for his gun. He glanced at the large hole Dean had almost fallen through and that he, in turn, had almost been thrown down, and saw Dean's gun sitting on the floor below. "Dammit."

He looked up to see what it was Dean had been looking at before he fell. It was a painting of a woman standing on a cliff face. Her hair was a beautiful blonde, but that wasn't what caught Sam's attention. It was her eyes, bright green and the most lifelike he had even seen done in a painting.

What the hell are you doing? There's some kind of spirit trying to kill you and Dean with an ax, and you're admitting artwork! Sam told himself and turned away from the painting. Dean was about a foot away from the hole now, eyes trained warily on the ax.

Sam focused his gaze on the rusty object, as it was pulled back, ready to be sent flying. He prepared his dodge ball skills, the ones that did not involve catching, but he didn't have to bother.

Everything happened so fast. Dean took one step back too many and his foot met empty air. He had no time to react before he had started falling backwards.

Sam stooped down and grabbed Dean's arm, pulling him backwards and away from the hole. Him and Dean both landed on the floor, Dean on top of Sam. Sam cursed whoever built this house and had not put in carpeted floors. "Dude you have to watch that spot in the floor."

But Dean wasn't looking at him; he was looking at the painting. Sam lifted his gaze as well to find the ax was embedded in the painting, right between the girl's eyes. Blood was running from where the ax hit, and a girl's scream suddenly seemed to irrupt from the painting. The ax shook violently, and Sam lifted his gun and shot the rock salt at the ax.

The ax, as well as the girl's scream, froze. The blood flowing from between the paintings eyes dried instantly, and the ax suddenly fell to the ground at their feet.

They slowly stood, still staring at the painting.

This had been one messed up case.

/…/…/…/…/

Sam sighed. This was the one thing about a case he hated. He didn't want to go back to Matt's mother and tell her they had found her son dead, but there was nothing else they could do. The police would find the body the next day thanks to an 'anonymous' tip, and Sarah had the right to know what happened to her son.

They had arrived outside the house the next afternoon, after already planning their next location. They were heading to the other side of Tennessee next, hopefully to somewhere a bit more populated, with perhaps a bit more to do. They were setting off tonight, so they would be gone by the time the police went to investigate the tip about Matt.

Sarah came to the door, blonde hair pulled back and green eyes sparkling in hope. Dean looked away and Sam took it for what it meant, that he should do the talking.

"Mrs. Chasel, may we speak with you and your husband?"

"Of course, come in," she said. She led them to the living room where her husband was sitting watching television. He abruptly turned it off when he saw the grave look on both boys' faces.

Sam sighed silently before making eye contact with both parents in turn. "I'm very sorry to have to tell you this," Sam began.

Sarah slowly sat down and kept her eyes trained on Sam, who was talking. Her eyes slid to Dean and he stared. Why was she staring at him like that?

"But your son was found, though not in the condition any of us would have liked to hope."

"Is he hurt?"

Dean tore his gaze from Sarah's.

"You're son I'm afraid, is dead."

The reaction was slightly different then they had expected. Richard sat there in shock, as if he was not able to comprehend the words. Sarah continued to stare at Dean, before slowly saying, "How-how…terrible."

"How?" Interrupted her husband.

"We're not entirely sure, sir," Dean said.

Sarah gazed from one brother to the other, piercing their eyes as if she would find more information. "Was their blood?" she asked, in a tone that suggested she already knew the answer was yes, there was blood, her son had been killed in a terrible way.

"Yes Mrs. Chasel, we're very sorry," Sam said.

Sarah sat there for a moment before slowly standing. "Thank you, for your help." She looked as if she would say more, but stopped. Dean and Sam looked each other, prepared to make their exit.

"I have to warn you, the press is sure to find out soon," Dean said as him and Sam prepared to close this off so they could get back to the Impala and leave town.

"I understand."

It was said so calmly that both brothers turned their eyes to her again. Her eyes were hard. Sarah gazed at a picture of her son on stage hung on the wall, and abruptly turned away from both of them. "If you don't mind?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course."

The brothers left the parents to deal with the grief of losing their only child. Dean sat in the drivers seat and turned on the car, quickly putting on Metallica. Him and Sam took one last look at the house before Dean pulled away from the curb and headed towards the highway.

Dean had been driving for a few hours when Sam suggested they stop for the night.

"Sam, I want to be as far away from that town as possible when the police find Matt's body," Dean said, holding back a yawn.

"Well I don't mean spend a couple days there, I mean stop there for the night and leave right in the morning." When Dean didn't respond, Sam knew he was going to have to lay it on thick. "Come on Dean, please," he asked putting up his puppy dog eyes.

Dean glanced at Sam but immediately wished he hadn't. Damn Sam and his damn puppy dog eyes. They had always had the desired affect on Dean all their lives. Dean sighed dramatically when he didn't feel Sam's eyes move. "Alright, alright! But we're leaving right in the morning."

Sam smirked in victory.

Twenty minutes later both Dean and Sam were in a small, cramped motel room. Dean dropped his stuff on his bed and went to go take a shower, and Sam got ready to go to bed. It was ten minutes to midnight, and he hoped he wouldn't be interrupted tonight with any nightmares.

Dean returned shortly after to find Sam asleep. He smiled at Sam's peaceful sleep and went to lie down on his own bed, hoping with them moving towns that these nightmares would be over.

Dean couldn't move. That much he knew. He didn't know where he was, only that it was dark, and he was tired securely to something behind him. He looked up to see Sam tied, probably the same way Dean himself was tied, and a shadowed figure heading towards Sam, a shining knife clutched in their hand.

/…/…/…/…/

Well? What do you think? Longer then last time, and better then last chapter, in my opinion. Next chapter we'll see the most gruesome nightmare yet (I know, the 'benders' take wasn't pretty)

So please review, I can't believe I didn't study for that test (now that I'm done and I only have a few hours before bed)