Love you like I love my pet fish Fluffy!!!
P.S.- I don't have a pet dish =O.

I should be getting a beta soon!! until then, all errors and mistakes are my own. I don't doubt that there are many many errors at that....

once again, i realize the length is less than satisfactory, but it was on purpose. kind of.... =)

Warning: this chapter is kind of disturbing...tread lightly

ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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He ran hard, his feet pounding on the lobby floor as he ran for the exit. Ten more steps and he'd be out the door, hopefully in a crowd of people, of witness, to establish the man for what he was, so Sam could get out of this hellhole. He could distantly hear the man's feet as well, pushing forward faster and faster until he lunged on top of Sam, tumbling them both to the ground in a heap of limbs. Sam grunted as the man smashed onto him, knocking the breath out of him as he violently gasped for breath.

He looked up to see the exit right in front of him, nearly in reach, curtains thrown over all the windows, shielding the light that was originally meant to illuminate the lobby floor and walls. Through the thin blood-red curtains, Sam could barely make out a "Sorry, No Occupancy Currently Available" sign hanging on the glass door. Alerted and thoroughly confused, Sam didn't have time to think what it meant as the man straddled his back roughly, the man's legs grinding into his hip bones. He felt something cool touch the back of his neck, pressure increasing rapidly until he groaned. It was a knife.

Sweat dribbled down his forehead and along the side of his cheek. He was breathing loudly, as was the man, David, whom was taking in small gulps of air periodically.

"What did I tell you, kid? Nobody's coming for you. Not your dad, not your brother. Nobody." Sam could hear the smirk in his words. "They don't care about you, you little shit."

Sam lay on his stomach, itching for something, anything, he could yield as a defensive mechanism. He wanted to scratch the man's face off and blow it to bits with his own pistol, human or not. This man would not disrespect his family like that.

Sam ground his teeth together. "Shut the fuck up."

David Brechett laughed, sending sudden warning signals in Sam's brain, making him cringe. It only made him realize just how much trouble he was really in. He was on his stomach, flat on the floor with a 200 pound man sitting on him, and contained no weapons, hell, not even a utensil of some sort. Nothing. And what's worse, Dean and John weren't there to save him. Couldn't save him. Not this time.

David pressed the knife further into Sam's neck, drawing blood. "So, why don't you tell me why your family abandoned you? Start from the beginning, I'm all ears."

His tone was self-arrogant and cocky, like he knew he'd win the battle. He probably would. Sam's ears turned red, but otherwise reacted indifferently. "They didn't abandon me. They'll be here and when they see you they'll shove their fists down your throat."

Sam knew he was over-exaggerating in more ways than one. John and Dean were on a one-week hunt and, by the time this is all over, the two will still be killing the damn demon. Subconsciously, he checked to see if he sensed anything in his back pocket and internally realized it was empty, as were his front pockets. Calling Pastor Jim was out of the question.

The man grabbed Sam's arms and stuck above Sam's head, his grip tightening as he leaned down to Sam's ear. "Never threaten me. Ever. Do you understand me?"

The man's hot, foul breath on his ear made him want to die, and he cowardly hid behind his wall of stoic to stop himself from doing something stupid. His vision became hazy as tears swelled in his eyes. But he wouldn't let them fall.

"Whatever" Sam said spitefully. The word was thrown out of his mouth in a hurry, as if rushing to escape Sam's conscious before it was caught and destroyed without first passing Sam's lips. He wanted to kill himself right about then, his mind throwing thousands of expletives at him for not thinking straight. He wasn't the one to be getting sarcastic because he wasn't the one with the knife. In a heartbeat, David Brechett only had to move his knife and, in one sweep, he could finish him. If he expected to survive this, Sam had to be careful.

Thankfully, Brechett didn't seem offended. He leaned down further until he and Sam's face were side-by-side. He pecked a kiss on Sam's cheek and stroke Sam's hair lovingly. "You'll sell for a lot more than I thought." From Sam's peripheral vision he saw his smile widen impossibly further. It was maliciously deformed, his eyebrows in the shape of a "V" as he rubbed Sam's back as well. "You'll get me a fortune, boy."

Sam shivered, his thoughts suddenly going dark. This was all planned. David hadn't just bursting into his room for a good fight, but he had future ideals planned out for Sam. Tears swelled in Sam's eyes as they fell down his cheeks. He wasn't going to kill him, he was going to be sold. For what?

Nothing if he had anything to say about it.

Suddenly, with renewed meaning, he attempted to buck the man off his back, thrusting his back into the man's stomach violently. Violent or not, it did little to deter the man, and it cost Sam more loss of blood as the knife at his neck created a new trailing of blood and roll down his back.

"Now, now, child. Stay calm for me, all right?" Sam just worked to buck the man off him even more. With David's hand clasped around both of Sam's, he worked with his feet and tried kicking him, hard. He had some solid contact but, it's the legs, not the head. Not much damage was done there.

Abruptly, the man forced Sam down with all his strength, Sam's head connecting with a thud on the hard floor. He grunted, taken aback, his body halting any further movement as David allowed the knife to travel, slowly, down his back, forcing him to stiffness. Sam hissed as he continued slicing through his soft flesh, reveling in the blood he was losing. Based on the pain level, he anticipated the cut wasn't that shallow.

Sam felt the man move from his position on the small of his back and sat on his ass. Sam cringed. The knife glided down his back and, once the knife reached the waistband of his jeans, it stopped, much to Sam's relief. He turned around to see the man leaning forward and staring lustfully at the blood leaking from his wound. It went from the top to the bottom of his back, blood dripping down the sides. David Brechett brought his face down ear the top of Sam's back, flicking his tongue at the blood. He smacked his lips a few times, inquiring the taste of it. He was breathing hard, as if trying to control himself before he did something stupid. Without warning, David slammed his lips on Sam's back, sucking infinitely as he drank his blood like a Slurpee.

Sam screamed, his hands flailing and his legs kicking out at anything and everything, which was only air. His body didn't know what to do, couldn't comprehend the situation he was confronted with. Was this man really a vampire, or was he in it for the kicks? Deep in Sam's gut, he subconsciously realized the latter would be so much worse.

The man, surprised, yanked him to the floor again and pushed down on him, grabbing for Sam's hands to keep them constricted. When he did, however, his hand fumbled with Sam's right hand. It was a careless mistake, one that should never have occured, but a mistake was a mistake, and Sam would take it. He threw his arm back, his elbow connecting brutally with the man's face. The man cursed loudly as he covered his face protectively with his hand, the other thrashing around aimlessly for a target.

Sam got to his feet in a flash and ran for the exit, his heart in his gut and his brain fried spaghetti. Right when his hand made contact with the door handle, an electrical current shot through Sam's arm and ran all over his body in a violent, malevolent rush. He jumped as the pain covered him, everywhere seering with unimaginable echoes of misery, capturing him like a small bunny to that of a predator. Damn it, there was no way out. He was trapped.

He spun around, his heart fluttering with unknown ecstasy to see David Brechett still on the ground, screaming out promises and threats of torture and pain. Though Sam did not appreciate his choice of words, and the graphic, detailed descriptions of his plans, he did appreciate his present position. He was on the ground, sprawled out with both hands over his face. They were all bloody, and Sam could faintly tell it was coming from his nose. Sam turned around and ran out of the lobby, in search of another exit. His mind was set on the door handle. The man had thought it all out, gotten all the traps ready and prepared for it's victims. But how could he know Sam would be the only occupant of the motel? Surely he didn't know Dean and his father would leave. Surely he hadn't known Sam was all alone, that someone would come and want a room to stay in, too. Sam sighed. That's why the sign was there on the door, to keep everyone out. Fuck.

Sam urged his body on, forcing down the exhaustion setting in to continue his search. He couldn't let it end like this, not on his special day. Why did this happen to him?

He turned the corner and ran down an unpleasantly foul-smelling hall. It smelled of blood, lots and lots of blood. Horrific fascination getting the better of him, he opened one of the doors and reveled in the sight before him. There was a couple, lying on the double-sized bed and smothered with blood-- their blood. There was a severed arm on the floor, the husband's head, his eyes wide open and his tongue hanging out of his mouth in a heap of more red, and a sick wad of intestines sticking to the floor. Sam gasped, suddenly feeling nauseous. That's how the man knew there would be no one to interrupt his sick plans-- he killed them all off.

Sam threw up.

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After checking all the surrounding area and finding no convenient methods of escape, it suddenly dawned on Sam. He had left his cell phone in the motel room, on top of the bed. Taking a quick look around the room for David Brechett, whom was no where in sight, he ran to his room. Half-heartedly, he considered being more discrete, more stealthy, but his high adrenaline was urging him on. There was no stopping him if he wanted to, he had to call Pastor Jim.

He ran past the lobby, to which a heap of blood lay on the floor, but no David, and reached his room in a hurry. The sight before Sam made him stop dead in his tracks, his priority of getting to a phone a little lower down the list now. There stood David Brechett, dried blood around his nose and mouth, a look of downright evil in his eyes. There was a glint of lust, but was soon overcome by a malicious need for the spilling of blood and, by God, it wouldn't be his. Also, Sam inquired how tense David's shoulder muscles were, as if ready to pounce on it's next victim, it's prey. His eyes looked evil, as if Satan had come up to him and possessed him for a day. This was not the David Brechett he remembered when they first met; he had acted so nice. Key word: acted.

New priority: survive.

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hope u liked it!

i realize its not super long, but i thought i would end on a good spot.

I would like to address one of the reviews for a moment, it actually made me really sad and I hope to see the rest of you to be a little more constructive with future reviews. The review had stated that the chapter wasnt original and that i had stolen it from someone else. It hurt, more than im willing to admit; not because its true, if youve read Negligence by kokoda you'd know its not, but because he/she hadnt even given me a chance to get into the plot and im already accused of copycat. I implore you to not show hatred to another based on one chapter, not just for me but for other authors as well. They work hard to make stories for you guys, put time into their work so you can enjoy them. And usually, when a story is discontinued, its for that one negative comment that sends their self-esteem plummeting drastically. I hope the reviewer realizes now that this story is in no way a copycat and, though it was drastically ridiculing, i have already forgiven you...if u want to be forgiven. I guess thats just my teenage, 15 year old, ways hitting me. I dont mind critiscm as long as its constructive!!!!

i hadnt really known how i would do this story, it was just kinda spur of the moment kind of thing. i havent been getting many reviews for this story, i realized. I hope you guys, and by guys I mean everybody, that actually like this are just not reviewing, because i only had 10 for the first chapter. and, the thing is, i have 52 Story Alerts for this story. 52!! thts a LOT for 1 chapter. thats why im so confused why nobody's review. please take the time to review, they make my day!! Without reviews, I wont know who likes or doesnt like it so ill know if i should continue!!

REVIEWS ARE LIKE COCKROACHES: NO MATTER WHAT, THEY'LL ALWAYS STAY WITH YOU!!!

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