A/N 1 Well, I am in an awkward situation. This chapter is ready - ahead of schedule. Stick to schedule or post? I chose to post. Sue me! LOL

A/N 2 Warning for language is in force again.

A/N 3 PA Davis - many apologies! I got your PM after I posted chapter 3! (Puts hex on evil email service) Thanks so much for your help and comments!

Jarveld grabbed Sam's hair and yanked his head back up.

"Now Sammy, no falling asleep! Seems you humans are highly susceptible to drugs. Must remember to use less next time." However, looking at Sam's heavily hooded eyes he realised there was no way he could keep him awake. He would have to sleep some of it off. But not all of it of course. He left – confident his plan was working.

Sam waited several minutes before moving. He wanted to be quite sure Jarveld had gone. Slowly raising his head, he opened his eyes. It was time to go and this might be the only chance he would get. Though he had realised the meal was drugged, it hadn't affected him anywhere near as much as he had made out. He stood up and nearly collapsed from the pain of the burns on his knees and shins. It felt like the skin was going to fall off as the blood rushed to his lower limbs after the enforced period of sitting down. Gingerly, he tried taking a step. As his foot hit the floor the slight jolt of it sent fresh, throbbing agony shooting up his legs. This was clearly going to be a painful escape. He searched for a door in the darkness but couldn't see anything. With no time to worry about it, he decided to walk forwards til he felt a wall and then feel his way around the room until he found the door. Every jarring step was fresh burning torture but he pressed on slowly forward, arms stretched in front of him.

Something snapped and crunched around his left ankle, and for a brief, sickening moment, he knew his ankle was broken - just before he crashed, passed out, to the floor.

He didn't know how long it was before he woke. But he was crying out in agony as Jarveld dragged him across the floor by one arm and then hoisted him up onto the chair like he was a rag doll. The pain from his ankle was unbearable and he could feel the broken ends of bone grinding against each other. Jarveld yanked his arms roughly back around the backrest of the chair, and tied them so tightly that Sam's shoulders started aching immediately from the strain. He was in so much pain he didn't think he could stand it much longer.

As it happened, Jarveld was in no mood to wait around any more. He threw a bucket of ice cold water all over Sam which had him gasping and spluttering. He shook his head to try to shake off the rivulets of icy water streaming into his eyes and dripping from his jaw. Ringing wet tendrils of hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck. He was shivering in earnest now as his freezing, soaking shirt clung to his skin. This time there was no false concern from Jarveld. Standing in front of Sam, he nudged the foot of Sam's broken leg and Sam screamed.

"Scream all you want Sam, no one can hear you. No one is coming to save you."

Sam was in a world of white hot pain.

"What do you want with me? Just tell me! What do you fucking want?"

Dean was dead. Everyone was gone. What did it even matter any more?

***

Thin, watery daylight filtered through the curtains as Dean woke - to a need to find the bathroom. He felt more alert, though his wound reminded him of its presence as soon as he tried to move. He pulled the blankets aside and very carefully manoeuvred himself to a seated position at the edge of the bed. He used his arms to push himself up and felt a little woozy as he got to his feet. But it soon passed and he made his way to the bedroom door. He was fairly pleased with his progress and was soon out on the landing and trying to work out which door led to the bathroom. He tried the nearest one, successfully as it happened, which was just as well as he was pretty desperate. When he was done, he splashed his face with some water at the basin. He was in dire need of a shave and a shower but there was no time for that right now. He grabbed a towel and dried his face, but when he lowered it he saw Kelly standing in the doorway – in pink flannel pyjamas with a little scene of sheep leaping over a fence on the front. Dean couldn't understand why but he found the whole thing adorable. He smiled at her without even realising he was doing it.

"Sorry Dean, I didn't realise anyone was in here. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" She stayed at the doorway.

"Hi Kelly. No, no, I'm good."

"Okay. Well I'm going to get a pot of coffee on the go. Do you think you can make it down the stairs or do you need me to wake Earl to give you a hand?"

"God no! Ah, I mean, no, I'll be fine – definitely don't wake Earl on my account!" Dean gave her a half-hearted smile and hobbled across to the door and went to his room to get dressed. Kelly headed down the stairs. Of course, getting dressed was no picnic it turned out. Every time he bent or twisted even slightly, his wound pulled and stung, so getting his jeans on involved a fair amount of cursing. Putting on socks and boots defeated him and he decided he would have to ask for help, though it killed him to have to.

Barefoot at the top of the stairs, he wobbled a little but kept a firm, double-handed grip on the left banister and managed to get down them without mishap, though it took a while. He was quite pleased with himself as he made his way, hand clutched to his side, into the kitchen. The coffee smelt fantastic and he gratefully took the steaming mug of hot, bitter liquid Kelly handed him and sank onto a kitchen chair. She had her back to him as she fried bacon and eggs but turned around to ask if he wanted toast or waffles.

"Oh, uh, just whatever you're having will be fine. Sorry to be putting you out like this." He dazzled her with his trademark smile… except she wasn't dazzled. She went back to tending the bacon and eggs.

"You're not."

Dean was slightly thrown.

"Not what?"

"Putting us out."

"Okay.. well good. I guess. And.. thanks."

Dean drank his coffee and Kelly continued making breakfast.

"When does Earl usually get up?"

"Oh, Earl is like clockwork. In the summer, he gets up at 5.30am and in the winter, 7.30 on the dot. He'll be down any minute." And sure enough moments later they heard footsteps on the stairs. Earl came into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He gave Dean a fairly unfriendly glance and then sat down at the table. Dean had a feeling he might be sitting in the wrong chair. Kelly put a mug of coffee in front of the huge man.

"Usual for breakfast Earl?"

"Sure, thanks Kelly." She put plates of food in front of both men and then sat down with her own. For a time, the only sound was the occasional clink of a knife or fork against a plate. There was definite tension between Earl and Dean, and the atmosphere was decidedly uncomfortable. Dean couldn't wait to get started looking for Sam.

Earl finished eating.

"You'll need crutches."

"I'll be fine."

"No you won't, you'll slow us down enough as it is."

"Don't worry about me."

"I'm not. But I'm not carrying you when you fall over."

"Hey guys! Come on, let's play nice huh? Dean we have some crutches. They're from when Jim – my husband - couldn't get around so well." There was a catch in her voice but Kelly turned all businesslike again, collecting plates and mugs and putting them in the sink.

"Uh, Earl, would you go find those crutches please – I think they're under the stairs? I'm going to go get dressed."

With both men staring at her retreating back, she hurried out of the kitchen and angrily wiped away a tear as she climbed the stairs.

Earl got up and left Dean alone in the kitchen. He finished his coffee and would have liked a second mug but they had wasted enough time already. So he struggled up the stairs to get his socks and boots. Knowing he couldn't get them on without help, he called out to Kelly. She arrived after a slight delay – now wearing a hooded fleece and jeans, to find Dean sitting, rather forlornly, on the bed. Realising straight away what the problem was, she knelt down to pull his socks on for him.

"This is embarrassing."

"No one ever put your socks on for you?" She scoffed.

Dean wracked his brain. As far as he knew he'd always put his own socks on. But his mom probably put his socks on.. he just couldn't remember. He could remember battling to put little Sammy's socks on though! He smiled at the memory.

"So, funny sock memories Dean?"

"Oh! Sorry. Uh, yeah, sorta. Listen thanks for helping me out here. I really appreciate it."

She didn't reply but pushed on his boots and started doing up the laces. He tried again.

"Uh, Kelly, I'm sorry if we upset you earlier? I don't think Earl is my biggest fan and…."

Kelly sighed and her shoulders slumped a little.

"It's not you guys really. I just get stupid sometimes when I think about Jim. I miss him - you know?"

"Yeah, I think I get it." Dean was squirming inside.

"Oh, of course, your Mom and Dad." Kelly finally looked up and made eye contact with him. She got up and sat on the bed next to him after tying off the second pair of laces.

"Sam is all the family you have left then?"

"There was an uncle but I don't know if he's still alive – never met him." Dean was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He seemed to be smack in the middle of a "chick-flick" moment - he just hated this sort of conversation.

"I have Earl – he's my cousin and I have a sister-in-law but we don't really get along all that well."

"Oh, Earl's your cousin – I was wondering. Look Kelly I don't want to seem harsh, but could we please go get my brother?"

"Of course. Sorry." She helped him up off the bed and was going to support him while he walked but he gently removed her arm from his.

"It's okay, Kelly I can do this. I got down the stairs on my own already remember?" He didn't miss the hurt look –he just chose to ignore it..

At the bottom of the stairs Earl was waiting with the crutches and what could only be described as a scowl. Kelly helped Dean on with his leather jacket and then he tried out the crutches. Placing one under each armpit, he launched himself forward. The forward momentum was quite good, though it still hurt like hell, but at least he could move a little faster this way. There wasn't, of course, anything actually anything wrong with his legs, it just took a bit off pressure off the wound this way. He grudgingly thanked Earl for the suggestion.

Earl said nothing, just turned his back to Dean and put on a thick, quilted jacket and gloves, along with a woollen hat. Kelly pulled on a similar padded jacket and gloves of her own. Dean seemed underdressed by comparison. Not that he seemed aware of it until she mentioned it.

"Dean, it's below freezing outside. At the very least you need some gloves. Do you have any?"

"Uh, no, but it's okay, I don't really feel the cold." Kelly went to the cupboard under the stairs and came back with a pair of gloves and another woollen hat.

"Here, put these on unless you want to add hypothermia to your problems."

Dean did as he was told, trying not to think about the previous owner of the items. And then his dad's training kicked in.

"Look, before we go. This demon is pretty straightforward to kill, just needs to be shot with a consecrated iron bullet. I've got a gun already loaded in the trunk of the car. We can pick it up on the way."

He caught the disbelieving looks passing between Earl and Kelly. Kelly at least looked apologetic when she realised he had noticed.

"We don't have time for this. Just humour me - please?"

"Sure Dean. Come on then guys – Earl, you lead the way." Earl picked up his rifle, clearly not impressed with Dean's iron bullet story, and they headed out into the freezing early morning air.

Stopping briefly at the Impala, they headed into the trees. Earl could easily see where the track had been disturbed recently so it looked like he was right about it being Ma Hudson's place. Dean found the rough ground fairly hard going on the crutches but was keeping up as best he could, though they did have to stop every 10 minutes or so for him to catch his breath. The exertion was causing him to breathe heavily and the freezing air hurt his lungs but he was glad to be finally on the move.

It was nearly 40 minutes before they reached the house. It looked pretty run down from the outside and the windows were all boarded up. However, the thin trickle of smoke from the chimney indicated that someone was inside. And moments later the sound of someone screaming in agony confirmed it.

"That's Sam!"