Yay! A new chapter at last! X3 LOL I apologize for the super long wait. Hope you enjoy this!

This takes place between the season 1 eps "Scarecrow" and "Faith"

Supernatural: Eric Kripke

Dean hadn't been aware that he had slipped into a deep slumber until he was brutally awoken by a sudden pressure on his lap. He quickly remembered where he was and knew that it was not any of his one-night stands giving him something extra before they departed permanently.

"What are you doing back here? I thought you were leaving?" Dean asked puzzled.

"Oh, I was. But I changed my mind," the witch's seductive voice whispered in his mind. He felt taloned fingers raking harshly through his hair, making him wince as a few of those nails scraped against his scalp. "Your family is nearly here, Dean-O…."

"Yeah, and you better be ready to have your sorry ass ganked, bitch," Dean interrupted through clenched teeth, his muscles still sore from the rough treatment of his magical bonds.

"Hahaha, you're funny, Dean-O."

"Stop calling me that!" Dean yelled. He felt the sting of a sudden smack across his cheek that snapped his head to the left before clawed hands roughly grasped the back of his head, forcing his head to be tilted back so far, he feared that his neck would break. He felt a whimper escape his mouth as tears of pain streaked from his eyes.

"You don't proceed to tell me what to do, Dean-O," the witch snarled. "Unless you want to die, you will let me do whatever I please to you."

"Kinky," Dean managed to snark. A sharp jolt shut him up.

"I told you once, before, Dean, anymore snide remarks and I will cut out your tongue."

Dean fell silent, only because the witch had yanked his head back so far, he couldn't make a sound, let alone breath. His mouth started to open and close in his panic to get oxygen into his starving lungs. Black spots danced around the edges of his vision. Just as he was about to pass out, his head was released and he was able to drop it back into a more convenient position, gulping in as much air as he possibly could. He was sure that his neck would be really sore soon.

"As I was saying before you oh-so-rudely interrupted me, your brother and one-tracked mind father are going to be here soon. I had to get the place ready for them. It's quite rude for a hostess to invite her guests into a filthy house before she kills them."

"Ha, good luck with that. Sammy and my dad are smarter than you give them credit for. They won't allow you to get the drop on them and-"

"Shh," the witch suddenly hushed him. "Do you hear that? Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot, you can't. Hahaha. Sounds like your rescue team are here."

Dean stiffened at this. His family was so close! He felt like crying with sheer relief, but forced himself to remain stalwart, so the witch wouldn't detect his excitement. Before he could speak, Dean felt a wad of cloth shoved nearly down his throat followed by a rag being placed over his mouth. He tried to shake off the witch's hands as she tied the gag tightly behind his head, but he was still weak from the shock treatments from his bonds.

"Can't have you yelling for little brother and daddy, now can we? Don't worry, though, I'll take good care of them. I promise," she added with a tone of sickening pleasure, telling Dean that her version of 'good care' was all but that.

He couldn't hear her talking to him in his mind, so he assumed that she was gone. Dean grunted through his gag, shifting slightly in his chair, trying to ease the agonizing pain in his back from sitting upright too long. The pain made his wince and shut his eyes, trying not to cry. It would make things a lot harder to breathe, and he was having enough trouble as it was.

When the hunter next opened his eyes, he was startled that he saw vague, blurry shapes instead of pure black. Given, they were too dark to make out, but he could still see them somewhat. His heart palpitated. Dean blinked again. This time, the shapes became clearer and less fuzzy. He uttered a muffled sob of happiness. He could see again! He then realized that he could hear a high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Before, Dean heard silence, but the ringing noise was something new. He didn't know how- and he didn't really care to be honest-but he was getting his lost senses back! He guessed it was the side-effect of the spell his father used to revert him back to his 27-year old self wearing off. Once the ringing stopped, the first sound he heard was his baby brother calling out to him. And Dean had no way of making himself heard, of reassuring Sam that he was there. He felt like crying again, this time in frustration.

SPNSPNSPN

It was well past midnight when Bobby pulled through the opened iron wrought gates outside a large mansion. He had managed to reach Salem in the time he allotted by speeding through red lights and stop signs, ignoring the irate horns and hollers of tired and angry drivers that were just anxious to get home and sleep.

The 5-story mansion itself looked to be about 200 years old and was made of a combination of red brick, concrete, and limestone with steel trusses. Climbing vines reached all the way up to the grey shingled roof, curling around the water spouts at each corner of the building. There were Carrera marble statues of sentient dragons on either side of the large oak double doors, their jade green eyes staring straight forward. Sam swore that they were staring through him and into his soul, but chalked it up to just his nerves working up. Other marble statues of various natures-from angels to lions to ravens- dotted the well kempt lawn. They meant to beautify the place, but they just gave the area an even more creepy feeling. The windows were all tinted so it was impossible to look in from the outside. For an old building and the way the lawn was, the three hunters knew it was all but vacant. Sam remembered this place all too well; it being the same house he had rescued Dean from months ago. He had been hoping he wouldn't have to come back to this place ever again, but he had a big brother to save.

Bobby coasted the Impala up the winding driveway, looking up at the eerie-looking building with Sam, John, and Clare as they neared it.

"Finally," Sam said mostly to himself, getting out once the Impala came to a slow stop. He reached into his left pocket and took out the spare trunk key Dean had had made for him when he was officially allowed to drive his brother's baby. Sam robotically made his way to the trunk and slid the key into the keyhole, turning it and unlocking the trunk.

"I drove as fast as I could, boy," Bobby said was fake irritability, trying to make things light to ease the tension cloud hanging over the young hunter's head. Sam sensed it and raised his head, smiling a small, sad smile.

Bobby could just make out tears in his hazel eyes. He knew the young hunter was struggling to keep himself together in front of his militant father. If it were up to him, Bobby would pull Sam to him in a firm but gentle hug and let him cry his eyes out. But now was not the time for that. Dean was just inside with a vindictive witch, possibly hurt even more. And they needed to get to him before the witch decided to kill him.

Clare stood up on the back bench seat, but before she could jump out, John swiftly locked and closed the door on her. Sam looked up and gaped at his father.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked demandingly. "Let Clare out."

"We can't let her come in with us," John said simply. "She's liable to run off and get us into more trouble than we're expecting.

Sam sighed and looked down at her, apologizingly through the partially opened window.

"Sorry, Clare. He's right. You need to stay in here till we rescue Dean. We can't risk you running off and alerting the witch to our location."

Clare meowed dolefully and scratched at the side of the door, begging Sam to open it. She didn't like the idea of being alone when she knew she could help. Sam just didn't understand that.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." Sam reached in and gave her head a loving stroke before withdrawing his hand. He smiled at her sadly.

"Sam," John growled. "Stop talking to that thing and wasting time. We need to sneak in, now!"

Sam gave his father a sharp glare. He wanted to argue, but he also knew that his father had a point. The longer they stood out here, throwing useless verbals at one another, the less time Dean had. So, he helped John and Bobby gather every single weapon they had and stash it into their duffels. Though they knew a simple stab through the heart would be enough to kill a witch, they weren't gonna risk not having any back up plans with them just in case the witch decided to play dirty, which she would.

"Alright," Bobby said in a commanding tone, shutting the trunk as quietly as he could and standing, facing the entrance to the house, John and Sam on either side of him. They all had their own choice of weapon with them: Sam was holding his brother's favorite Colt M1911A1 that John had given to him for his sixteenth birthday along with the Impala, making the teen all too ecstatic at not only having his very own car, but his very own weapon as well, having had borrowed his Dad's guns and knives before.

John held a machete that still had traces of blood from the last vampire hunt he had been on. It had been a tough hunt and the blood refused to come off completely.

Bobby, himself, had Dean's special Bowie Knife that Sam had given to him not too long before he had left for Stanford, telling him that he wanted to be sure he was safe, to which Dean, of course, responded with a witty retort that made him smile cockily on the outside, when Sam knew he was breaking down on the inside. It had made Sam feel like an ass, knowing he was the reason for putting that feeling in his brother.

"We have a witch to gank. Everybody ready?"

"More than ever," Sam replied with sheer determination, cocking the gun.

"Enough chatter. Let's go." John started for the front door.

Sam and Bobby looked at each other then followed. None of them noticed Clare watching them leave and the lock opening. Sam and Bobby stopped behind John, who was just staring at the door with a steely glare.

"So, are you gonna knock or wait till the door loses the staring contest?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow.

John turned to give Bobby the same glare he had given the door then turned back, raising a foot to kick it open when the doors suddenly did so themselves with a loud, unnerving creak, reminiscent of the kind you'd hear in horror movies. They opened wide enough to allow them to squeeze in one at a time. The three hunters looked at each other questioningly.

"Well isn't that suspicious," Bobby scoffed. "No doubt that wasn't the wind."

"Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth." John said, taking the lead once more and entering the building with caution, scanning left and right for any signs of danger.

Once John made sure the foyer and the adjoining rooms were scoped out, he signaled to Bobby and Sam that it was alright for them to enter. They did so just as cautiously, back-to-back; weapons held at ready, leaving the doors cracked open.

"It's a bit too quiet in here, don't you think?" Bobby whispered, looking around the elaborately decorated foyer.

Bracketed candles that were lit, giving a warm glow to the mahogany paintjob, aligned the walls, where various olden paintings of Englishmen and women hung. Sam had assumed they were relatives or even ancestors dating back to the Salem Witch Trials. The floors were polished granite and have a long, oriental rug running the length of it, where there was a grand spiral staircase that led to the upper floor. The doorway to their right led to an elegant dining room while the doorway on the left led down another lit hallway that branched off into two more. More paintings and pictures hung on the walls.

"We should split up," John suggested in a tone that wouldn't be argued with. "Bobby and I will check through the dining room. Sam, you check those halls. You see the witch, you fire. No hesitation." He added with a stern glare at Sam.

"Believe me, this witch isn't going to live to see the next sunrise." Sam snarled, already making his way quietly down the hall, his back against the wall.

Bobby and John shared a look before heading into the dining room, which had a set of sliding doors that were opened, revealing a spotless kitchen.

SPNSPNSPN

Sam froze as he reached the corner of the hallway leading to the left, his hands gripping the gun tightly, his finger twitching on the trigger. He berated himself to keep a calm head. He couldn't show any weakness should he run into the witch. He took a deep breath and leaped around the corner, swinging his weapon down both halls, but seeing no one or anything. The hall to his left led to a door he figured might be a bedroom and the other one led to a library that he would love to spend hours in, but knew he couldn't.

From his previous visit to this mansion, Sam remembered that the cellar's entrance he had found Dean in when he had first been kidnapped by the witch's sister was hidden behind one of the bookcases.

"Cliché," Sam thought, rolling his eyes and making his way to the library. He froze as he felt something following him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He slowly turned his head and saw a shadow appear one the wall of the hallway he had just came from. He turned around just as a figure emerged, aiming his gun straight at…a small black kitten with round emerald eyes.

"Mrow!" Clare started purring when she saw Sam, who breathed out a sigh of relief and lowered his arms.

"Clare! How'd you get in here? I told you to stay in the car!" Sam berated.

Clare's tail, which swished back and forth happily, drooped and she looked up at Sam with eyes that were the cat's equivalence to his own puppy-dog eyes. Sam felt his irritableness fade into love.

"You want to help save Dean, too, don't you?" he smirked as Clare's tail shot back up and she bobbed her head, as if she was nodding. Sam laughed. "Okay, okay. Dad will be ticked, but who cares. Dean's more important than his temper tantrum." Sam then headed for the library with Clare in tow.

SPNSPNSPN

Sam knew which bookcase to search behind. Before it had taken him a good twenty minutes, flipping books onto the floor, searching for the one that was the right lever. His photographic memory allowed him to recall which volume to pull and when he reached it, he yanked it. A low whir sounded and Sam stood back as the entire bookcase revolved, revealing a Medieval style wooded door with brass knockers. It was fixed from the last time he had broken it down. He slowly stepped up to it, putting his ear up to the wood, listening hard. It was complete silence so it was easy to hear the muffled cries coming from somewhere behind the door.

"Dean!" Sam whispered in worry. He then stepped back and raised a foot, bringing it forward with powerful force, breaking the door open. "Hang on, Dean!" he cried, momentarily forgetting that his big brother couldn't hear him. He then ran through the doorway, Clare running after him.

SPNSPNSPN

Bobby and John met back up in the dining room, shaking their heads, letting each other know that they haven't found any signs of the witch.

"This is where Clare showed us where Dean would be," Bobby removed his cap and scratched his head in frustration, then put it back on.

John rolled his eyes. "You really think a damn furball will be accurate enough to tell us where Dean is?" he said in exasperation.

"I'm telling you, Jonathan, Clare is no ordinary cat." Bobby then looked straight into his eyes with a sudden realization. "Do you think she's a Familiar?"

John looked back at him with the same look. "It could be possible. But I've never heard of witches having kittens as Familiars before. Perhaps Clare was an exception though."

"But Sam and Dean had found her nearly starved to death and on the verge of hypothermia." Bobby pointed out.

"She was probably thrown out by the witch when she didn't meet her standards," John suggested. Bobby shrugged and was about to reply when the doors leading into the foyer suddenly slammed shut. Bobby and John jumped, raising their weapons immediately.

"What the hell?" John exclaimed, rushing to the doors, yanking on them. But they wouldn't open.

"She must've used an enchantment on this place! Sort of like a supernatural lock-down!" Bobby said, looking around.

He heard the sound of wood sliding and looked into the kitchen where he saw one of the drawers had been opened, but no one was around. Bobby's heart started palpitating as he saw dozens of steak and butcher knives rising up on their own and then jumping up onto the counter.

"John?" Bobby said.

John looked up from trying to open the door and froze upon seeing the enchanted knives standing on their own.

"Not good," he grumbled.

"You think?"

Suddenly, two of the knives launched themselves at the two hunters so fast, they barely had time to react, ducking to the sides just in time to prevent being impaled.

"I really hate witches!" John cried, deflecting another knife with his machete before it struck Bobby in the back.

SPNSPNSPN

Sam and Clare descended the stone stairs and into the musky basement with caution and reached another wooden door. The muffled cries were louder as they listened through the wood. Sam tentatively pulled on the brass ring. The door creaked open a bit, telling him it was unlocked. He breathed a sigh of relief and wanted to cry, knowing that his brother was on the other side of this door. He then pushed it all the way open, pushing all thoughts of cautionary measures as soon as he saw the state of his big brother, rushing immediately to his side.

Sam felt the tears prick his eyes as he saw that Dean's bonds around his arms, wrists, torso, legs, and ankles weren't ordinary ropes but magical energy that sparked each time Dean moved. Sam noticed that he was trying to be as still as possible, but saw he looked extremely tired and slipped down in his chair when he tried to hold himself up, causing the bonds to spark again and grunts of pain come from his brother.

"Oh, God, Dean," Sam tapped on Dean's shoulder gently, unaware that Dean was looking directly at him with clear, tearful eyes. His words were blocked by his gag, but Sam could make out 'Sammy' being one of them. He let tears fall as he worked on getting the gag loose.

"It's okay, big brother, I'm here," Sam soothed, going back and forth from untying the rag to rubbing Dean's shoulder in comfort. Dean continued grunting through the gag, and Sam had the feeling he was trying to tell him something important.

"Hold on, Dean," Sam struggled with the knot. "Damn, this witch must have been a friggen Girl Scout!"

Clare sat at Dean's feet, meowing and looking up at him. Suddenly, her head snapped towards the door as she heard footfalls coming down the stairs. She pressed her ears back and hissed. Sam halted his attempt at untying the gag and immediately moved to stand in front of Dean protectively, holding his gun up as a woman of about 30 years in age with long, straight black hair and piercing ice, blue eyes entered seductively with a black lipsticked smirk. She wore a long-sleeved Black Gothic Lolita-style sorceress dress with a high color, a matching cape with a red underside, and knee-high black boots with four inch thin heels.

"Well well well, look at who we have here," the witch purred, her eyes looking Sam up and down, her smirk widening. "Dean-O has such a handsome younger brother. It's a shame I have to kill him."

Dean yelled through his gag, trying to tell her to keep away from his little brother. But his words went unheard.

"You will pay for doing this to him," Sam seethed. He then fired the gun.

The witch quickly held up a hand. **"Declino!"

The bullet froze an inch from penetrating her chest. She grinned evilly. **"Retoff Alegoria!" With a flick of her wrist, she sent the bullet flying towards Dean with lightning speed before Sam could stop it.

The bullet hit him square in the shoulder. Dean screamed through his gag and the shift of his bonds caused a great amount of magical energy to shock the older hunter.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed as he suddenly became still in his chair. "No!"

"Hehe, I should've told you that Dean's been suffering through that torture all day long. One last jolt was enough to kill him. So sorry," the witch said with a mock pout and sorrow.

Sam felt his body tremble in anger as he stared at his unmoving brother. It was final. This witch was going to die by his hand tonight. And he was going to make sure that it was a slow, excruciating and merciless death.

Some of the spells I use in this story are the same ones Gwen Tennyson of Ben 10/Ben 10 Alien Force/Ben 10 Ultimate Alien uses, such as the second spell the witch uses.

**Declino- Decline

**Retoff Alegoria- Causes something to go flying at an target.

TBC...