Here is the next chapter for you all. I hope you like it.

Cindy.

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Sam trekked through the heavily falling snow, his head bowed down against the wind. He pulled his collar tight against his neck to keep the snow from going down his back. The aspirin had started to take affect and his once thundering headache had eased to a dull throb. His throat however was another story. He could barely swallow and whenever he coughed it felt like a blowtorch firing in his throat. But despite the pain, Sam did feel better. He had something now that he didn't have a short time ago. He had hope. Bobby was on his way to help him. His fate as foretold in his vision was not set in stone.

Sam's thoughts went to Dean. He had an ache in his heart whenever he thought of his big brother. He wished for Bobby's words to be true. Could it have been the demon who made Dean turn on him? As much as he hoped Bobby was right, Sam knew that Dean had every right to hate him and to wish he had never been born. If it weren't for him, Dean would still have Mom and Dad. He would have a normal life that didn't include risking his life day in and day out to keep his unworthy little brother safe. Sam truly felt he wasn't worthy of Dean's sacrifice. So, as much as he hoped for Bobby's words to be true that Dean did love him and did want him in his life, Sam was determined to make sure Dean was set free from his self imposed responsibility for him, one way or another.

If he made it out of this current situation alive, Sam vowed he would disappear, maybe to Canada or even Mexico. He would get odd jobs to make some money before moving on to some place else. He was used to the nomad way of life and felt confident he could keep Dean off his trail. The one major problem with this scenario was old yellow eyes. Being on his own would make him more vulnerable, but he would deal with that when the time came. His being apart from Dean would remove the danger of his brother being hurt again because of him and that was his number one priority. Whether Dean truly hated him or not made no difference. Sam loved Dean more than his own life and he would finally do the right thing and free Dean from his burden.

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There you go. Please let me know what you think.

Cindy.

When Sam finally looked up from his musings, he found he had passed his 'home' and had to back track a few blocks before coming to the abandoned house. He jumped the fence and went to the back yard. He climbed the porch steps and pulled the board from the doorframe enough so he could squeeze through. He entered the house and went immediately to the livingroom. Melted snow dripped from his soaked hair down the collar of his jacket and shirt adding to the already wet garments. He shivered not only from the cold but from the evenings events. Seeing the man from his vision had unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

Once he reached the couch, Sam began to shovel the debris and trash from around the couch with his feet. He needed to clear a path so he could lay a salt line. He didn't have enough salt to protect all the entrances to the house so the best he could do was erect a barrier around the couch then park himself there until Bobby arrived. He could only hope that the salt would hold the demon off. He fiercely wished he had his duffel bag because then he would have holy water also.

Once Sam finished the salt line, hoping it was complete but not sure due to the darkness, he collapsed onto the couch and rested his head back onto the dirty cushions. He felt feverish and knew getting soaked had not been the best thing for him at the moment. He lay down on the couch and tried his best to get warm, to no avail. He didn't think he would sleep, but when sleep finally did come, it was through pure exhaustion. Although he didn't dream of the demon or his death again, the dreams he did have were much worse. He saw a jumble of images from his past that caused him to whimper and cry out in his sleep.

He saw Jess pinned to the ceiling, blood dripping from her stomach then the flames consume her as he watched. He saw Dean and his father in the cabin, Dean bleeding as he was being ripped apart from the inside, his eyes pleading for the pain to stop. He saw his dad on the hospital room floor, then on the pyre, burning. Sam awoke panting and his throat was on fire. Sweat poured from his brow and dribbled down onto the couch, his wet hair clinging to his face. He curled into a ball and prayed silently for it to all be over. A single tear traced a path from the corner of his eye to his ear. He huddled closer into himself and prayed that Bobby would get there in time.

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Across town-Norris Bros. Building Warehouse

Jack Daly walked through the door that led to the outside break area at the warehouse where he worked the nightshift. He grumbled at the unfairness of a world that would force a man to have to go outside into this God awful weather just to grab a smoke. He supposed he should just quit and get his wife off his back, but damn it! He liked to smoke. Who's business was it but his own anyway? If he wanted to smoke, he would. It was his life after all and he worked hard so if he wanted to smoke then screw everybody else! He found a semi dry corner and lit up a cigarette, taking a puff and sighing in satisfaction.

Jack thought back to earlier in the evening and the strange young man he had encountered at the store where he always stopped to buy his Ding Dongs. The kid had bruises and cuts on his face and had looked like death warmed over. But what really got to him was the absolute fear in the kid's eyes. Jack didn't think he was all that scary to look at, but maybe he looked like whomever had beaten the kid. He shrugged his shoulders. It didn't really matter. He had never seen the kid before, and probably would never see him again. As he took the last puff from his cigarette, a blinding pain tore through his head. He dropped to his knees, gasping and clutching his head before all awareness left him. When he next arose from the ground, a blankness filled his eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. He shuffled off the covered platform and headed for the parking lot. He found his VW and silently got into the car, then started the engine. He pulled out of the parking lot. He turned in the direction of Alameda Street and the small, white abandoned house where a young man waited for him. The saint. A smile curled his lips. By morning his task would be complete and all the psychics would be dead. His master would reward him greatly, and this only made his evil smile grow.