Howdy people

Howdy people! May I just say a massive thank you to all of the people that have reviewed already! They really help spur me to write more. Once again, thanks a lot, and please review again!

Hope you enjoy this chapter! Ok, now I know I said this chapter was going to be longer, but, I really struggled for what to put. I don't really like this chapter. It's too rushed, but, I couldn't think of any fillers!

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Sam screamed, the cry nearly ripping his vocal chords. He frantically tried to shove the gun away from his neck, but the bite of it was to strong and he whimpered.

The man snarled into his ear and Sam could smell the reek of alcohol on his breath. He shoved the point of the gun further into Sam's neck. It was pressing against him so tightly the area around it was sound turning red with strain. Sam craned his neck back, the muscles in it stretching taut.

"Another sound out of your mouth and you'll be regretting it you son-of-a bitch." The Man growled harshly into his ear. Sam felt the click of the gun as he cocked it to show he wasn't kidding. Sam looked at him and saw him grinning sadistically back at him. He cringed.

Sam's mind was going haywire. He ha stopped his struggles, but mentally kicked himself for so stupidly dropping his guard. "What would Dad and Dean say if they saw me now?" He thought, his face turning a slight pink in shame. He closed his eyes as he trembled. "Maybe they were right. Maybe I am useless."

"Open your eyes damn it!" The man barked. Sam quickly complied, deciding that it would be best if he went along for now. His lip quivered, but he refused to let himself cry. He had made a promise to himself, and he planned to keep it.

Little did he know that his promise was going to be broken many times.

He looked at the man holding him. He was unshaven and wild. His eyes roamed around Sam's body, and Sam suddenly felt very self-conscious. The man's eyes were hungry, and desperate. Sam almost pitied him. Almost. The man's eyes were also bloodshot, and they lit up maliciously when he looked at Sam's quivering body.

Sam couldn't suppress a slight shudder that came to him when he felt a rough, callous hand on his arm. He instantly flinched, and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. The man moved his hand up, causing Sam to try and move back, but he couldn't, as the tree trunk was blocking his escape. He held his breath as the hand came to a rest on his shoulder.

"So beautiful." He heard the man whisper, and then there was a sigh. He reached into his pocked, temporarily removing his hand from Sam.

Sam had to admit to himself, he was scared witless, but he didn't know why. He had face Wendigos, Poltergeists, Demons, and even Spirits, but he had never been as afraid as he was right now.

Sam's breathing began to speed up rapidly, until they were almost coming out as gasps. He gulped, trying to moisten his dry throat, but was unsuccessful.

As the man removed his hand from his pocket, he brought with him what Sam thought looked like a piece of cloth. Although, he couldn't be too sure, because at that very moment, his head was forced up by the butt of the gun, making face the sky.

Suddenly, the man's hand darted out and clamped over Sam's mouth. The cloth was jammed over both his nose and his mouth. He gasped in, then yelled loudly into the material. He struggled, but within mere seconds, black dots began to dance in his vision and his head swam. Sure enough, a minute later, he was slumped at the foot of the tree, unconscious. His last fleeting thought before he fell to the drug was one he did not want to have to say, or even think again.

"Dean. Please, please help!"

The man sighed happily, and smiled triumphantly as he had watched the boy struggle before unconsciousness clamed him, and he slid to the side.

"So beautiful." He whispered again. "And all mine!"

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"What the f- " Dean yelled, jumping back in seat as a then-empty beer bottle was thrown across at his head. He looked incredulously at his father, but ducked sharply as the glass flew over his head and connected with the wall behind him. It shattered and the shards rained down on him. He closed his eyes and hastily put his arms over his head to protect himself from the falling glass.

When the last of it hed fallen, Dean lowered his arms and stared at his 'father'. Or rather, his father's body that was being played like a puppet. " Damn it, I knew something was wrong! He would never say something like that to Sammy, and now he's gone!" he thought, annoyed with himself for being so careless, and for not realising sooner that something was wrong. He moved to stand up.

Before he could take one step though, he felt himself fly across the room. His back connected with the wall with a loud bang and he yelled out in pain. Struggling frantically, he tried to break free of the hold over him, but was unsuccessful. He grunted as he was plucked away from the wall and thrown to the other side of the room, landing against the kitchen cabinets. The wood broke beneath his back and splintered. A large peice dug into the lower side of his back. He roared as it sliced into his flesh, but a laughing droned out his yells, and he grimaced.

"Poor little Deany!" The gruff voice of his father said mockingly. "All alone now Sammy boy has up and left you!" he threw his head back and barked with laughter. "Well, let me tell you." His demeanor changed instantly, and his voice turned icy cold. "When you're dead and gone, that leaves Sammy all in the open, free for me! It will be easy, seeing as he is week and pathetic, and I will finaly be ridden of the Winchesters that have made my life a living hell for the past years." He smirked smugly.

Dean struggled for a breath. "N-not if I ha-have anything to do with it!"

Summoning all of his remaining strength and pulled out his gun from the back pocket of his jeans. He winced slightly and his hands came back bloody. Turning it towards the demon, he fired, using the whole clip. Tears sprung to his eyes as one of the bullet struck the demon in the shoulder, and it howled loudly. He twisted away from the other rock-salt bullets, but the damage had been done, and he dropped to the floor, writhing in agony. Dean took this chance and began to chant loudly.

He internally rolled his eyes as he was released from the grip of the demon and went crashing to the floor. He landed with a scream onto his back, which pushed the piece of wood further in. He took a second to regain his posture and continued with the ritual.

Drawing his last breath, he finished it, nearly screaming over the demon's yells.

Suddenly, a black smoke rose out of his father and twisting into the air. It hung there for a moment before turning into nothing.

Dean crumpled into himself and the pain seared in his back. He knew his injury wasn't life threatening, but it still hurt like a bitch. He looked up, tears in his eyes and saw his father moaning. They both lay in silence for a few minutes.

Suddenly, John sat up, blinking.

His shoulder hat ceased to hurt at all, and he frowned.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked. Then turning to Dean, he gasped and moved forward.

"Dean, are you ok?" he said urgently. His face darkened. "Where is Sam, Dean?"

TBC