AN: Alright so I lied, it won't just be one more chapter, I was only planning on writing one more, but then this one just seemed to end for me and I'll go with the flow. I hope you enjoy the continuation of this story.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Supernatural

Beneath Watchful Eyes 2

Dean pulled the motel key out of his pocket and slipped it into the lock. He hadn't been surprised to see that the Impala wasn't in the parking lot. They weren't expecting their dad to be home until well after the sun set. Sammy pushed passed him, eagerly plopping down on one bed and pulling out the TV remote. Sliding the deadbolt into place Dean heard the unmistakable sound of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"What about your homework?" Dean asked shrugging his backpack down beside the bed.

Sam appearing disgruntled, "You said I could stay up late."

"Right," he nodded stepping in front of his brother, "What do you want for dinner?"

"Macaroni!" Sam cheered immediately.

Dean gave a halfhearted sigh; he'd hoped Sam had forgotten that, "Didn't we have that last night?"

"You asked," Sam pointed out happily now lying on the motel bed shoes kicked off, legs swaying back and forth as he watched the cartoon.

"Right..." he didn't really mind, the meal was easy enough to make, and he liked it as much as Sam. Stepping into the small kitchenette Dean reached to open up the cupboard door wincing when he felt the movement pull at his stitches. His hand had just reached for the box of macaroni when someone knocked on the motel door.

Dean turned sharply at the sound, seeing his brother sit up at attention, sending Dean a concerned look. Motioning for Sammy to remain quiet Dean stepped over to the door just as the stranger knocked again. Glancing through the peep hole Dean didn't like what he saw. A woman in a suit stood on the other side; with two men at her back at least one of them was a cop.

"Sam, put your shoes on," Dean hissed under his breath.

"Mr. Winchester?" the woman called out rapping on the thin door yet again. "My name is Samantha Rose, I'm with Child Protective Services. I need to speak with you, about your son Dean."

"Dean?" Sam's voice was a concerned whisper.

"Put on your coat Sammy," he instructed stepping away from the door to pick up his own discarded jacket.

The woman knocked yet again, her muffled voice slipping through the old door. Dean couldn't make out what she was saying, but it didn't matter he had a fair idea what was going to come next. Dropping down on his knees at the foot of the bed sent a wave of pain up through Dean's chest; he swallowed it back pulling the duffel out from under and slung it over his shoulder.

"C'mon," he said standing, just as a key slipping into the lock. Sam was ahead of him opening the window at the back of the bathroom. Dean closed the bathroom door behind them just catching the sound of the deadbolts chain jerking when he secured the flimsy lock.

"What's going on Dean?" Sam asked already working at climbing through the window.

Dean shook his head, helping his brother before passing the duffel through, "Must have been the school nurse." It didn't really matter who had made the call, despite Sam's reasonable explanation Dean wasn't surprised the adults had feared the worst.

Once outside Dean took the duffel back from his brother, and took the lead through the empty lot behind the motel. They always prepared for these possible situations, "Let's pick up the pace," Dean said pushing himself into a jog. He didn't know how much time they'd have to get ahead; he knew the first few minutes were critical. The net would only begin to tighten once Social Services realized they were gone.

Cutting through a back alley Dean forced his brother to come to a stop, as he both checked for anyone suspicious, and tried to catch his breath. Running with broken ribs was never a pleasant experience, but his dad had taught him to be tough to work through the pain.

"Dean," Sam's voice cut through the pain, and he looked down to his brother's worried gaze.

"It's alright," he tried to assure, glancing back over his shoulder before looking ahead. "Remember what dad said," Dean hefted the duffel. It wasn't a lot but it was supplies enough to see them through until their dad came.

Sam nodded; "I remember how to get there!" his proud smile only looked a little forced as a cold rain began to fall heavily around them.

"Good, lead the way," Dean said pulling his coat tightly around his neck as they started down the street. Dean had to fight the urge to glance back over his shoulder every couple of minutes. Every time they ended up in a town for more than a couple of nights, dad had always picked out a secondary spot they were to hide in if problems came up. This wasn't the first time they'd caught the attention of Child Protective Services, it was however the first time their dad wasn't there when they came.

Cutting across a parking lot Dean could see the old factory, and he nudged his brother picking up the pace. He heard the squeal of tires behind him and broke into a run. Sam was pulling ahead slipping behind a dumpster which was half blocking a small alley. A shout from behind confirmed that they'd been found, sending a much needed burst of adrenalin through Dean's body.

"Keep going," Dean encouraged wet sneakers slipping on the slick ground. Blinking away the water from his eyes Dean swore. Even if they made it to the factory the men following them would know where they went and a search of the area wouldn't take near long enough.

"Dean!" Sam cried out in fear.

"Hold it right there," an unfamiliar voice called out from behind Dean.

"Let me go!" Sam shouted angrily, "Dean!"

"Sam!" he shouted racing to his brother's aid. He was jerked to a halt, when the man behind him took hold of his duffel. Dean fell hard to his knees pulled off balance by the sudden stop. Breath was knocked from his lungs when the strap across his chest pulled taunt across his wounded ribs.

"Easy there," the man said taking a better hold of Dean's body as he struggled to regain his breath.

"Dean!"

The sound of Sam's panicked voice cut through the fog surrounding Dean, and he looked up through the rain to see his little brother still fighting hard. "Sammy!" he called his voice breaking as he was dragged to his feet. "It's alright," that was a lie but there was nothing they could do right now, they'd need to conserve their strength.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was unsure, sounding on the verge of tears.

"We're not going to hurt you!" the man holding Sam assured so both could hear.

"We're here to help," the one behind Dean said.

Dean twisted in the man's arms, "I don't recall asking for help."

"C'mon," the man said directing Dean back down the alley.

"What's the charge?" Dean demanded putting on the breaks.

The man looked down at him, but didn't appear to be in a hurry to answer, "Let's go."

"Leave me alone!" Dean tried to shrug the man's hand off, probably could have escaped the man. But one glace over his shoulder stopped him; Sam was not four steps behind head down shoulder tightly held by the other man. He wasn't going to leave his brother behind, ever!

Samantha Rose stood next to a large black van, umbrella shielding her for the driving rain. The look on her face reminded Dean of one of pity and he glared darkly at her, there was nothing about his life that should be pitied. "Dean Winchester," she greeted offering him a tiny smile. "You're school nurse was worried about you."

"I told her I was fine," Dean bit out.

"Still I'd like to talk to your father," Samantha said stretching the umbrella out towards Dean as he man holding his shoulder opening the sliding door on the van.

"He's at work."

"Do you know how to get a hold of him?" she asked as Dean climbed reluctantly into the back of the van.

"Why?" Dean shot back reaching out a cold hand to Sammy as he was helped inside the vehicle.

The men closed in around them one taking the wheel while the other sat in the middle. "We need to tell him to meet us at the hospital," the social worker explained pulling the passenger's door closed.

"Dean?" Sam asked worriedly voice barely above a whisper.

"S'okay," he assured hand moving to his brother's knee, while his attention remained on Samantha. "I'm fifteen years old, old enough to look after both of us; you've got no right taking us anywhere we don't want to go!"

Samantha offered him a tiny smile, "That's not why we're here Dean; we just need to be sure that you're alright."

"I'm alright!" he stressed each word, but already knew that it wouldn't make any difference.

"Is this my fault?" Sam asked into Dean's ear.

The older Winchester shook his head; he'd thought Sam's answer for the stitches had been a good one. But neither of them could help it if the teachers were getting more suspicious. One thing was for sure, dad wasn't going to be happy.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel