first, sorry this took so long, but work has been crazy, and it appears that it will stay that way for quite some time.

thank you all for the great reviews, i am glad you are all enjoying it. if all goes according to plan there are only two, or at the very most three chapters left to this story. so hang in there, it's coming to an end.

as always, let me know what you think. :)

TWILIGHT

Chapter 16

Dean stumbled through the driving rain, his body shaking as the air around him grew steadily colder. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, his keen eyes searching the shadows around him for both Kerri and the watcher. There was something wrong, something different about the forest. He had been searching it for days but now, for the first time, he felt like he was being followed.

"You're more hunter than I thought you were, Dean." The breath was like frost against his skin. Dean turned slowly at the sound of the voice, shotgun raised.

It was smiling, hell, it was always smiling, but it never failed to unnerve him. Why did the bad guys always have to smile like they were about to take a bit out of you? He subconsciously backed up as the creature's red eyes began to pulse, it's fingernails growing longer right before his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, willing his voice to stay even, while his heart continued to race.

"You could feel me coming a mile away, couldn't you?"

"Well, ghosts kind of have a calling card, you know. Hard to miss."

"Oh my, your daddy has taught you a lot. It's a shame it wasn't enough, though."

"You leave him out of this."

"What do you think he will do when he returns home to find only the little ones?"

"That's not gonna happen."

"You really think you can beat me, Dean?"

Dean just glared at it, not trusting his voice to answer. In all honesty, he wasn't sure if he could destroy it, but that wasn't about to stop him from trying. However, the thing before him only smiled, as though reading his mind.

"Well, even if you can, your father will still come home to find one missing. You should have heard her as she died. Crying, screaming out for her daddy, for you."

"You shut up, Bitch. She's not dead, I'd feel it."

"You would, would you? You'd feel her ice cold skin, feel her empty eyes, the stillness of her chest. You'd feel that all?"

Dean tried to focus, tried to raise the gun to fire, but he found it near impossible. All he could see, all he could feel was Kerri, dead in his arms, the weight of her body pulling at his every muscle. Her hollow eyes staring at him, pleading for the help that never came. He couldn't see past the dark spots before him, couldn't erase the image of her grey skin, her tangled hair. All sound was gone, muffled by the fierce beating of his heart. She wasn't dead, he wouldn't let her die.

He didn't feel himself fall to his knees, didn't see the creature smile as it wrapped grotesque arms around him, stealing away what little consciousness he had left. No, he didn't see any of it, didn't feel any of it. All he knew, all he could understand was the image of his best friend dead in his arms, and his father's disappointed eyes staring through his soul.

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Dean had never been so cold in all his life. His skin felt like there was a layer of ice on it, his body shivering so much that he was sure he had pulled a muscle. He didn't know where he was, but he wouldn't have been surprised to open his eyes and find that he was in some kind of freezer. Or maybe at the bottom of the lake. The eleven year old suddenly sat up, his eyes open, heart beating fast.

The forest, the lake, the watcher, Kerri. It all came back to him like a flood. He looked around frantically, his meager supplies gone, head throbbing. Where the hell was he? The last thing he remember was being in the forest, being with the watcher. It was showing him things, showing him lies, because he knew that it couldn't possibly be true. Kerri couldn't be dead, he would not allow it. This was all his mistake, a result of his carelessness, and he was not about to let her suffer because of it.

Dean closed his eyes again, breathing slowly, evenly, trying to regain some composure. He had to stay strong, had to stay sharp. He couldn't and wouldn't let this thing win, not now and not ever. He was a hunter, and he had wanted to be one ever since his father first taught him to shoot. He was born to do this, of that he was certain, and he wasn't going to let some lowly spirit put an end to one of the Winchesters.

He slowly pushed himself to his feet, his head pounding. He swayed for a moment as he stood, willing his eyes to adjust to the never ending darkness around him. He still couldn't make out where he was, but, as the shadows of shapes began to focus around him, he guessed he was in some sort of cave. And by the sound and feel of it, it was somewhere near water.

He took several deep breaths before moving forward, arms outstretched, searching for some way out of his darkened prison. He couldn't believe he had screwed up so badly, that he had let the watcher take him. Had he seriously just stood there while the thing swooped down and spirited him away? Dean shook his head, wanting to smack himself.

"Smooth, Winchester." He mumbled, moving toward what he hoped was a wall. This was bad, this was very bad. And worst of all, was that Sam and Evelyn were now completely alone.

And suddenly, the watcher's words floated back to him, echoing back from his mind.

'What do you think he will do when he returns to find only the little ones?'

In all honesty, Dean didn't know what his father or Tom would do if they returned home to find only Sam and Ev. He was pretty sure that Tom would search for Kerri, that he would be destroyed if he found her gone, but Dean just didn't know how his dad would react. He told himself that John would hunt the bastard that killed him down, that he would cry, but that was before the striga, before he failed. Ever since that night, his dad had looked at him differently, had treated him differently, and Dean just didn't know what to think anymore.

His internal torment was cut short, however, when he tripped over something concealed in the dark, the obstacle taking him by such surprise that he didn't have any time to regain his balance. And so, he fell to the muddy ground, dazed, his legs still caught up in whatever he had tripped over. He sneakers were tangled in what felt like fabric and Dean jumped forward, praying to god that it was the duffle he had lost in the forest. But when his fingers finally reaching the object, finally ran over the fabric, he couldn't help the bile that rose up in his throat. It wasn't a duffle, it was a person.

Dean sat, trembling, a few feet from the discovery, the meager lunch Sam had forced him to eat making a disturbing reappearance. The figure had been so cold, so still, its hair like brittle straw against his hand. And he didn't dare take one step closer. He couldn't see who it was in the darkness, but he knew that there was only one person it could be.

No one lived near the Harrison family, their large house a good seven miles from the town and about four miles to the nearest neighbor. So the chances of it being some random stranger were next to nothing. Dean gingerly stretched his had out once more, afraid to feel what was there again. He knew who it was, knew who it had to be, but he couldn't make his heart and mind accept it.

The first thing he touched was her tangled hair, the long locks running through his fingers as he moved down towards her neck. 'Please, please, please.' He kept chanting, praying to god that she was alive. But she was so still, and so cold. He took a few deep breaths before finally pushing his fingers against her neck, unchecked tears rolling down his face. This couldn't be the end.

But there, beneath his waiting fingers, was a miracle. He fell down over her prone body, breathing hard, hugging her for all that he was worth. She was alive, hurt and cold, but still alive. And, in an instant, he felt the adrenaline run through his body. She was still alive, and that meant that they could still beat this thing, that they could still survive.

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Sam and Evelyn sat silently on the old sofa, both staring unseeing at the television screen. It had been seven hours since Dean had left again, and Sam knew that that was far too long for his brother to be gone. After all, the sun had set a good two hours before, and the little boy knew that Dean would not have stayed in that forest past dark. It wasn't safe and, no matter how much he wanted to save Kerri, Sam knew that Dean would never leave him alone, especially if there was something dangerous on the loose.

No, Dean should have been back by now, of that Sam was sure, and the seven year old knew that something was now very wrong. The storm seemed to have gained in intensity again, the lights dimming, tv flickering. It was coming, he could feel it, and by the way Evelyn was clutching his arm, Sam knew that she could feel it, too. It was like a rattle deep down in his bones, a tremor slowly making its way through his entire body. Something had happened to Dean.

"He's not coming back either, is he?" Evelyn asked quietly, her eyes red with tears.

"Yes he is." Sam tried to be strong, but he couldn't help the waver in his voice. Dean had to come back, he always came back.

"Then why hasn't he yet? He's been gone so long now."

"I don't know. Maybe it's taking him longer to walk back with Kerri?"

The instant the words left his mouth, Sam knew that it was the wrong thing to say. He thought it would give her a little hope, thought it would calm her. But instead, Evelyn began sobbing once more, crumbling into his arms as she cried.

"She's never coming back."

"Yeah, she is."

"How do you know?"

"Because Dean told me that he wasn't going to rest till he brought her home."

"But what if that thing killed him?"

"It didn't." Sam shouted, making Evelyn jump. "It didn't get Dean, I'd know it."

And it was true. If that thing had killed his brother, Sam was sure that he would have known. He could always feel him, always sense him, no matter how far away he was. It was like an idea at the back of his mind, always there, never wavering. No, Dean was still alive, of that Sam Winchester was sure.

"Look, Evelyn." Sam began, Evelyn turning pale eyes toward him as he spoke. "They're alive. But I still wanna go out there and check around just to make sure they're not hurt."

"No!" Evelyn screamed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Don't leave me, please don't leave me!"

"I'll come back."

"That's what Kerri and Dean said. They didn't come back, Sam, and you won't either! Please, please don't leave."

"They might be in trouble, I have to help them."

"Then I wanna go, too."

"No, Ev, you're too little."

"I'm older than you are."

"Look--."

"I'm going with you."

"But you don't know how to hunt."

"I know just as much as you do. Please, Sam, don't leave me by myself."

Sam stared long and hard into Evelyn's eyes, amazed at the courage and resolve that he found there. Maybe it was the life that he and his brother led, or maybe it was just that Evelyn acted so young. Whichever it was he didn't know, but at that moment she wasn't the annoying girl he had grown up with, at that moment, she was as determined and capable as him.

"Ok. We only have the one shotgun, is there any more ammo downstairs?"

"Yeah, plus there's bags of old led shavings, too. Dad hasn't made them into bullets yet."

"We'll take what we can get. Is there anymore salt?"

"Only what's around the house."

"We can't move that."

"I know. My dad's got a whole bunch of protection amulets and stuff downstairs, we can take some of them."

"Alright, let's get them then head out."

Sam grabbed his backpack and two flashlight before turning and taking Evelyn by the arm, the two seven year olds disappearing out of the now empty house and into the stormy night.