Suggestions: You may want to reread chapter 6 to get into the mood of this story and enjoy the whole chess theme. Chapters 6 and 7 were originally one chapter but were divided due to length. For those of you who don't have the time, I've summed up the important terms to help make this chapter more enjoyable.

Key terms to better understand the story line

Predator: one who is characterized by taking things by force usually often causing harm/ Denton

Protector: one who shields another from harm/ Dean

Prey: a person or thing that falls victim to someone or something/ Sammy

Chess: a game of strategy where players alternate moves using various pieces with different abilities The goal is to capture your opponents king by eliminating all of his possible ways of escape…When this is accomplished, it is said that the king has been "checkmated." In this story, Sammy is the king. Dean acts as many of the chess pieces to protect the king. In this chapter, he is referred to as a rook or castle, which is a valuable piece that stands guard to protect the king and remove any threats to him.

Hope this helps! Enjoy!

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Chapter 7

The scheming hunter continued sauntering back to his truck, gloating over his brilliant chess playing skills. He tossed his hand up into the air, gesturing a goodbye to the boys, further adding to his facade.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Dean quipped sarcastically, all too glad the creep was finally leaving.

Dean turned his thoughts back to the house they had been checking out.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah"

"What do you say we finish up here, you know, check the basement and upstairs- see if you recognize anything, and then, if you're game, we can hit two more properties before dark?" Dean's eyes, still focused out the broken window, continued to follow the perplexing hunter as he folded his large frame into his vehicle and started to back out.

Sam grinned. He was relieved their encounter with Denton was over and he appreciated his brother's immediate focus back on the hunt and his tenacity to prevent his vision from becoming more than just that.

"Hey, Dean?"

Dean glanced back at his younger brother, focusing particularly on the slight smile on his face.

"Thanks, man"

"For what?" Dean questioned, surprised at Sammy's timing for a caring, sharing kind of comment.

"You've really been there for me today, you know, with the vision and Denton; you always have my back."

"Yeah, well, it's easier than looking at your face, Sammy" Dean smiled his signature crooked smile which always elicited a snort from Sam.

"Yeah, right…" Sam snorted. "You should be thanking God you get to look at this face every day, man!"

"Oh, pl-ease" Dean harrumphed as he glanced sideways at Sam, "thanking God," he laughed shaking his head. He glanced back out the window as he secretly thought to himself…every day, little brother, every day.

Dean watched for a moment and then his body suddenly straightened, his attention became focused. "What the h…." Dean announced under his breath as he saw Denton stop his truck and step out. He wandered around the front of his vehicle and appeared to be scrutinizing something on the passenger side. It was impossible to see what he was checking because the Impala still obstructed his view.

Sam, already alerted by his brother's comment, attempted to step around Dean and take a look. Dean immediately grabbed his jacket and pulled him back where he wanted him, safely behind him. There was no way Dean was about to let his brother anywhere near the window or the scenario that was unfolding before him.

The annoyed old hunter slapped the hood of his truck. "DAMN IT!" He shook his head and looked back at Dean. "Tires flat!" he hollered.

"Crap!" Dean hissed, "I don't believe this!"

"Musta hit a nail or something on the way in here" Denton continued, "Don't suppose you have a tire iron I could use, cuz if you don't, I'm gonna be stuck here with ya til I can get one."

Dean's brows knitted together and his eyes grew suspiciously dark. He wanted to believe that the scruffy hunter was shooting straight from the hip, but his hunter instincts knew differently.

"Why wouldn't Denton have his own tire iron. The guy is on the road all the time hunting Vampires for God's sake!"

It was more a rhetorical question than anything else, but Dean was partially wanting Sam to come up with a perfectly reasonable explanation that would put his mind at ease.

The sly old hunter continued loudly, "Meant to get a new one when mine was stolen outta my truck, but you know how it is. Ya only think to get one when you're stuck in the middle of freakin nowhere with a damn flat!"

Denton began gliding the chess pieces slowly across the board in his mind as he shifted his strategy away from trust and in the direction fear. Only the protector's fear of losing his loved one would cause him to separate from the prey. If the protector was convinced that the predator was a threat to the prey, he would leave the prey in the house, alone… all the while thinking that his choice was going to secure the safety of him/it. The predator would then easily remove the protector from the board. When that happened, the fearless huntsman would make his move to checkmate the prey.

"Could be on the level," Sam offered as he looked questioningly at his brother.

"I don't like it!" Dean exclaimed out loud as fear began to well up inside him. All his instincts were telling him that this was wrong…the fact that Denton was out here in the first place, that he claimed he had a flat, that they were standing in one of the designated potential sites for Sam's vision. Dean's heart began to race.

"Seriously, man, maybe he's for real. I mean, maybe the guy just needs a tire iron." Sam innocently offered.

"Sam, you know the tire iron is locked in the trunk, right? I'd have to go out there and give it to him."

"Dean!" Denton yelled back again delighting in the hesitation of his opponent to make his move.

Dean swept his hand across his face. Everything inside of him was telling him to shoot Denton right there and then. He was tired of the old hunter and the possible threat he was to Sam. For all he knew, this was all a freakin' game. He just didn't like it. It felt all wrong. It was one thing to deal with Denton from inside the house where he felt he could better protect Sam and control what was going on, but outside would be a completely different situation – too many variables. However, if he didn't get the tire iron to Denton, he would be around longer and potentially be given more opportunity to pose a threat to Sam. If he did get the damn tire iron to him, he'd have to leave Sam alone in the house.

Dean figured since, at the moment, Denton posed more of a threat to Sam than being alone in a house which didn't seem to hold any perceivable threat did, he had only one choice to make.

"Stay here, Sam! Take this and aim it at the bastard's head. If he so much as blinks the wrong way, shoot him." Dean directed, passing his firearm to Sam who already had one of his own. Dean felt somehow that if Sam had two, maybe he would be even safer and he sure as hell didn't want to carry a firearm out to Denton that could be used on Sam if things didn't go right.

Sam held the two weapons up and looked surprisingly into the eyes of his older brother. "Dean, together?"

"Sam, I'm not taking you out there! He may appear to be on the level, but we don't know for sure." Dean's voice cracked as his emotions heightened. "At least, in here, you can protect yourself."

"Dean," Sam paused and then finally admitted, "I'd rather be with you. If I'm with you out there, at least I'm not …alone."

"Sam," Dean added sympathetically, knowing that 'alone' for Sam meant dying alone. His heart went out to the kid. "It's not like I want to leave you alone, Sammy," he said reassuringly, "it's just, we don't know how you end up alone.

"Dean"

"No, Sam! For all we know, we walk out 'together', Denton shoots me, then takes you and does God know what to you!" Dean cringed at his words as soon as he spoke him. His inner fears had just been spilled out, and judging by his little brother's reaction, had soaked into the fabric of his being.

"Sorry, Sammy, I didn't mean to….."

"Sokay," Sam added, feeling sorry for Dean and sorry for the mess they were in. He knew his brother was doing his best and what their father had trained him to do and he trusted his brother completely. Dean would never do or say anything to deliberately hurt him.

Sam began one more time to try and convince Dean to reconsider. "Dean, listen to me. I never saw Denton in my vision."

"Sam, you said it yourself; your dream was sketchy at best. No, you stay in here."

"Dean! What's it gonna be? Do I get the tire iron or not?" the seemingly impatient huntsman hollered once again though he was actually thrilled that his opponent was delaying. "Fear," the old man whispered, "his strategy was working". He could taste his victory and began calculating how many moves he thought it would be until the chess match ended.

Dean turned around and put his hand on the door knob ignoring his brother's plea.

"Dean, please, we work better side by….ahh!" Sam gasped as he put his hand to his head, the gun in his hand rested alongside his temple.

"What? What?" Dean questioned worriedly as he grabbed Sam by the upper arms.

"My head!"

Sam's eyes were squeeze tightly. The razor-sharp pain sliced through his skull as if it were a knife through butter, from top to bottom, fast, decisive, and over as quickly as it had begun.

Dean held on tightly to Sam, trying to steady his brother, desperately hoping that whatever it was, it would pass soon.

Worriedly, Dean questioned, "Is it the vision? Can you see anything?"

"Dean!" Denton yelled from outside trying to intimidate the protector and growing annoyed that he was taking so long to make his move. Part of the fun of chess, besides the strategy, is watching what your opponent will do and seeing if he fell into the trap you were planning. "You-got-a-tire-iron-or-not?" the obnoxious man asked slowly, over exaggerating every word.

Dean was always good at thinking on his feet. John had taught him well, more by example than anything else, but this situation seemed to have the potential of spiraling out of control and Sammy's life would be hanging in the balance if anything went wrong.

"Sam?"

Sam straightened a bit as his pained expression slowly began to disappear from his distressed young face.

"Sam!"

"Yeah" Sam answered back still trying to make sense of what had happened.

"You alright?"

"I think so." Sammy replied as he looked at Dean's concerned eyes.

"Did you see anything?"

"No, it wasn't a vision, exactly. But Dean," Sam paused, "something is wrong here, in this house. I know it doesn't make sense, but this is somehow familiar."

"Familiar as in vision familiar or I've seen a broken window like that one before familiar?"

"Vision familiar" Sam stated fearfully as he searched his brother's eyes for hope.

Sam's words terrified Dean as he jumped into full hunter mode. His heart skipped a beat as adrenaline pumped forcefully into his blood stream and coursed through his veins. He knew he needed to get Sam out of the house, and now! He didn't like this at all. Sam's vision was about to become a reality. He could feel it. What he couldn't tell was whether Denton was the threat or whether there was something else going on. Always before, Sammy's visions had seemed to be related to the demon or the special children like Sam. None of this made sense to Dean. Still, it was clear he had to get Sam out of that house. Dean was a good hunter, faster than Denton, but less experienced. If Denton tried anything, Dean was pretty sure he could take him, but if not there would be enough time for Sam to, and that was all that mattered to Dean. Sam had never actually killed a person before. Dean had always protected his little brother from that nightmare. But, if Sammy had to endure it, Dean was confident that in the circumstances of protecting Dean's life, Sammy would eventually come to terms with it.

Dean grabbed his younger brother's sleeve and pulled him directly behind himself. "Let's go. You stay right behind me and do WHATEVER it takes to defend yourself! You hear me! WHATEVER IT TAKES."

Dean and Sam immediately exited the house, staying close together, hugging the right side of the driveway while keeping the Impala between them and the bent over hunter should they need to protect themselves. Sam was scared. He knew fear was sometimes a good thing. It keeps you alert, ready to do what it takes, but it also can be a bad thing. It can confuse, distract, and paralyze. Sam was scared and the fear welling up inside of him was not the helpful kind. Dean was holding it together right now, he was good at that, using his fears the right way and for that he was grateful. One good thing, there was no sign of the sharp pain he had experienced moments earlier inside the farmhouse. That thought offered Sam some relief.

Dean, being on full alert was taking in the house behind them as it was a potential threat to Sam, Sam himself, who seemed to have recovered from whatever the hell had happened but was obviously frightened, and the perplexing hunter that lay crouched before them.

To the average observer, the aged hunter crouched behind his wheel, didn't seem to notice that the brothers were approaching, but to the trained one, it was obvious he was pleased with how things were going by the glint in his eye. The old hunter was a bit surprised that the protector's fear hadn't driven him to separate from the prey, in a futile effort to keep him/it safe. If anything, fear had cemented them together. Still, these were John's boys, well at least one of them was. The youngest was clearly a "supernatural, but the oldest, though misguided, was still smart, well trained in the skills of hunting and protecting the prey. Enjoying the challenge of his opponents unexpected move, Denton began recalculating, formulating his next strategy based on his years of hunting experience. He reasoned that separating John's boys would no longer be an effective strategy. It was obvious; the protector had no intention of leaving the prey, just as a faithful rook stands guard near his king ready to remove any threat. Instead, he decided to continue working on trust. The prey seemed to be attracted to the lure. Maybe use their being together against them, yes, use the protector to close in on the prey. Use fear and love as his arsenal to remove the protector and capture his prey. "Soon, very soon," the demented rogue whispered to himself as an evil smirk crossed his scruffy face.

Dean and Sam advanced towards the hunter and his supposedly disabled vehicle.

"All be damned," Dean quipped in a soft tone so that only Sam could hear. Sam and Dean could see the flat just as Denton had said. Dean made his way to his trunk, keeping his back to the car, his eye keenly trained on Denton. The threat of the house seemed more distant and the threat before them seemed to be dissolving. Sam followed at a safe distance with both weapons in his hands, tucked safely inside his jacket ready to fire if needed, though Sam was feeling like there might be no need. He had no strange vibes in regards to the old man and, if anything, had begun warming up to him again much to his surprise. If Dad could work with him and trust him, he can't be all that bad, Sam reasoned. Still, Dean was nervous, so he kept his watch.

Dean unlocked the trunk and grabbed the tire iron cautiously, realizing he would be placing a potential weapon in Denton's bare hands.

Fear. Good. Dean reeked of it (the wicked hunter reasoned inside the demented walls of his mind) The game was playing out nicely.

"Thanks," Denton rasped as he grabbed the tire iron from Dean, winked at Sam, and began working on the lug nuts. "Have a little trouble remembering where you stored your tire iron, Dean?" he questioned sarcastically attempting to humor and disarm the boys.

Dean contemplated grabbing a few extra weapons from the trunk, but didn't want to initiate a problem where one supposedly didn't exist. He slowly closed the trunk and began to step back to a safer position where Sam was, putting his baby in between the hunter and himself and himself between the seasoned hunter and Sam.

Fear, love, and trust…Fear of losing a brother, love, a blinding handicap, and trust soon to be broken…the trap was set, the protector clearly confused, if not once again questioning his instincts, the prey clearly defenseless. The depraved hunter could taste his victory already.

A smile streaked eerily across the creepy hunter's somewhat wrinkled face. "It'll only take a minute," Denton stated, huffing and puffing as if out of breath from loosening the nuts which had apparently rusted into place by the obvious effort they were requiring. Wanna give me a hand…………. Sam?" the hunter asked boldly.

Dean's heart skipped a beat and then began thumping painfully inside his chest when he heard the despised hunter specifically request Sam's help. In the split second it took for Dean's heart to slam against the wall of his chest, the devious hunter had duck behind his truck and fired something in the boys' direction. Dean felt something whiz past the left side of his head and hit its mark. Sam exhaled loudly with an "oooff" and attempted to grab onto Dean as he was thrown backward. He slurred his brother's name out loud and then crumpled helplessly to the ground.

Dean was pulled off balance by Sam's attempt to grab for his older brother's help. Before he had a chance to recover, he felt a sharp sting in the side of his neck. His vision began to blur as he watched his brother twitch a bit on the ground before becoming frightening still, blood forming where a small dart could be seen barely breaking the skin just below his jaw line.

"Shhiiitt," Dean slurred, as his mind began clouding and his body started to give way beneath him. "Ssaaamm?"

Dean tried to turn around to see where the malicious hunter was, but lost his battle with gravity before he crumpled on top of his helpless brother.

The malevolent huntsman arrogantly sauntered over to Dean and kicked him over with his hiking boot, stained red in spots by the years of blood that had been spilled on it.

Dean's drugged eyes slowly opened. He willed his debilitated body to move as he had done so often done in the past when his brother was in danger, but it refused, rebelling against his command.

Denton stared directly into his eyes and smirked eerily before glancing at Sam's vulnerable body sprawled out beside him. He looked at the prey, a disgusted look of disdain shadowed across the immoral predator's face. Then gazed back at the protector and gave a toothy, satisfied look.

"Check" he taunted between satisfied lips.

"You basstarrdd", Dean slurred, as he slipped into unconsciousness.

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To get you thinking…..Whew! Tough chess game, huh? Our boys had some trouble playing because they didn't know who the opposing King was. Now, they clearly recognize it is Denton, but is it too late?

Special thanks goes out to all my wonderful reviewers! You guys have truly been awesome and inspire me to continue. I've tried to incorporate some of the things you enjoy into this ongoing story. Let me know what you think!-Rachelly