Well, here it is, a few days after my freak out! Sorry for that, by the way. The chapters don't have many major changes (apart from one), and since I've finished editing them all to fit with the story line, they'll all be uploaded today. Thank you for understandgin, guys 8D!
Eric Kripke owns all of it!
This would take place after 'Sin City'. Enjoy!
Sam lay down on his bed after getting out of his suit. He made a mental note to tell Dean about the house and almost laughed as he remembered his feeble attempt at getting Joseph Stonewell to keep out of it. I'll have to arrest you. Joseph was a man who obviously cared about his daughter a great deal, but if he wasn't careful, he could get hurt. It was a demon they were dealing with after all.
Apart from that, his visit to the Stonewell home had been pretty pointless, but he knew from years of experience it was always important to check. His father's voice echoed through his mind: better safe than sorry, Sammy.
Sam smiled sadly as he thought about his dad. John Winchester hadn't been easy on him, but it had still hurt when he had died. He died saving Dean, and now Dean was going to die saving Sam. Will the chain ever stop? He though hopelessly. He had seen how crushed Dean had been when he found out what their dad had done for him. Tears came to Sam's eyes as he thought about it. How guilty would I feel? How would I survive without Dean?
Dean, the one who had a sarcastic comment for everything. The one who had beaten up those bullies for terrorizing Sam at school. The older hunter who Sam had faced every nightmare imaginable with. His big brother, who Sam had the occasional fight with, but still loved fiercely.
No, Sam thought. He's not going to die. Not for me, not for anyone. He decided there and then, in a crappy motel in a virtually unknown town, that he would fight for his brother's soul, no matter what.
Sunlight filtered through the dirty window, filling the small room with bright light. Sam rolled over onto his side, his eyes still closed. Just a few more minutes! He had fallen asleep after desperately researching crossroad demons for an hour, and had then woken up at midnight, hunched over the small table he was sitting at with a neck-cramp. He had barely made it to his bed before he collapsed, a sudden wave of tiredness taking over his body.
But sleep hadn't come easily. His mind had been plagued by a horrible nightmare for most of the night, and he had lost a lot of sleep thinking about it.
Becca (who hadn't moved much; Sam reckoned this was because he had only seen pictures of her) was screaming while being attacked with a knife by something dark. Sam struggled to help her, but he couldn't move. His body wouldn't respond to his brain, as if something was holding him still. Becca's bloodcurdling cries suddenly stopped, her lifeless body motionless against the wet concrete. The grasp on Sam was released, and he ran towards her attacker. Its black smoky arms kept on stabbing Becca over and over again even though she was dead. Sam reached out to stop it, punching it so that it fell onto the ground face first. But it pushed itself to its feet calmly and when it turned, Sam found himself looking into a pair of black eyes and a face with an evil smirk…Dean's face…
Bu that had been hours ago. Now, in the blinding light, Sam managed to drift into a slumber once more. The dream still bothered him, but he did his best to forget about it .With his feet hanging over the edge of the bed and his long bangs hiding his face, Sam lay still as the clock beside his bed flashed eight-thirty.
Drip, drip, drip. A slow but steady flow of water echoed throughout the large room. There was a stale, musty smell in the air, like something had died in it long ago and had never been removed. The morning light was shining through several windows, each as broken and dirty as the last. There weren't too many things in the room: a couch that had lost its color long ago and a table that had been attacked by woodlice. There was also a chair that wasn't very stable, and sitting in that chair was an unconscious Dean Winchester.
A trail of dried blood ran down the side of his head, and a deep purple bruise was starting to form on his right eye. His hands were tied tightly behind the chair with a rather thin rope that was cutting into his wrists.
After several hours of sitting like this, Dean woke up. His head ached and his wrists were throbbing. He looked around, and suddenly took a second glance at a shadow in the corner he was sure hadn't been there a second before.
"Good to see you're awake, Dean. I was worrying that I had hit you a little too hard." A clear laugh followed, and the speaker stepped forward so that she could be seen more clearly.
She couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen. She was wearing a black knee-length dress, and she had long loose black hair to match it. Her skin was slightly tanned, and she was shoeless. But the thing that disturbed Dean the most were the empty black eyes that could only mean one thing. "What, you don't recognize me?" she asked.
Dean struggled against his constraints. "Sorry, I've not talked swapped sob-stories with many demons before."
"I know your type, believe me." the demon walked up to Dean. "You shoot first and ask questions later with my kind. But, come on, think! You know me, I know you. You've shot me first and asked questions later. I'm just lucky to have gotten out when you performed that little stunt with the Gate."
Dean racked his brains, but only one demon came to mind. "Meg?"