A/N: Look! Look! A longer chapter!

Dean shifted the shotgun in his hand, letting it sit in his left while his right reached for the gun in his belt. He kept it behind his back though, hand resting on the handle for the moment that he had to pull it out.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, they were slow, pauses in between. Dean could only assume that he was looking for them, sticking his head into each doorway, scanning the area for the sinner. The steps came closer, each one sounding more and more like gunfire, a miniature explosion going off in time with Dean's heartbeat, the pounding ricocheting in his ears. He could hear Sam breathing beside him, each shaky breath that he took and strained exhale that he released. He was proud of his brother, most people who have fled by now, running away and never looking back.

The footsteps stopped right before the door, the silence far too loud. Dean stood, Sam scrambling to his feet after his brother. Dean turned his body so that his chest was facing the wall, his left shoulder to the doorway. This is what his father taught him, never give the enemy an open target, you've got to make it as difficult for them to kill you as possible.

"Oh Dean, Dean. I thought you were smarter than that. I warned you did I not? Most people pay heed to those warnings, but I can see you didn't. Why didn't you Dean? Did you just miss me that much?" The voice was beyond Dean's sight, hidden behind the plaster and drywall.

"Why don't you come ask me that face to face, or are you too scared?" Dean squeezed the shotgun, readjusting his feet slightly.

"Afraid of you? A human of very insignificant proportions? Please, being afraid of you would be like being afraid of a child with a stick. Pointless and depressing." The voice was light, humor edging the words, laughing at Dean.

"Then why are you hiding? Come out you son-of-a-bitch." Dean was growling now, finger itching to pull the trigger.

Dean waited for the creature to show its face, ready for the instant that he had a shot. When there was no movement that he could see Dean raised the shotgun, putting a round into the wall, paint and plaster exploding into the room making Sam flinch and cover his head. When he raised it he could see Dean still standing there, gun lowered and yelling into the hallway.

"Come out and face me like a man!"

And slow tisking come from behind the boys, both of them spinning around with wide eyes, "Now Dean, how could I possibly face you like a man when I clearly am not one?"

This time Dean raised his silver beauty, bringing it up to the beasts eyes, pointing it between both of them, the point blank shot making him smile, "Let's see you die like one."

The shot rang out, the force of it making Deans arm snap up before he let it rest on his side, the gun kept away from his leg, the heat radiating through his jeans. The man's forehead erupted, a small hole between his eye sockets, hidden by the darkness of his skin, with one the size of a mandarin in the back of his head. There was a small trail of blood flowing from the open wound, barely anything compared to the bone, blood, and brain matter that artfully covered the wall behind him.

The man raised a hand to the back of his head, placing his fingers inside the new addition to his skull. Sam grimaced as he heard the squish, accompanied by the grey matter that fell to the ground. The man brought his hand back down, his eyes burning into Dean, changing from white to red, glowing in the dark. His hand was covered in blood, dripping as he raised it to look at. "Now that, was completely illogical."

His eyes snapped to Dean, resting on his for just long enough to make Dean feel the first grip of fear in his heart. The things hand snapped out, gripping Dean around the throat, nearly breaking his trachea, squeezing hard enough to be on the verge but not crossing the line. He raised Dean from the floor, his feet hanging inches above the hardwood. Dean hands automatically went to the things', pulling up against them trying to relieve some of the tension from his throat. His fingers were biting into the black skin beneath them, breaking through, making red rise to the surface. Dean's eyes rolled, his hands slowly going lax.

On the verge of passing out, his vision all but blank, Dean could hear the thing hissing at him, "I am going to enjoy taking your punishment out of your flesh."

It was the sudden lack of pressure on his throat that reminded Dean to breathe again, his breath shallow as his body remembered how to inhale. The first breath he took caused his body to convulse into a fit of coughing, the air burning against his bruised windpipe. His vision slowly came back and he got the shock of his life. Standing above the fallen man was Sam, his eyes wide and body shaking. The creature had one of the spears sticking through his chest, the tip resting on the floor, blood flowing down it to begin forming a pool.

"Sam…" Dean croaked out, coughing once again, "Noose…"

Sam was still in a phase as he wrapped the noose around the things neck, swinging one end of the rope over the rafters. He pulled on the rope, heaving the body into the air, the spear swinging back and forth with every movement that the body made. Dean didn't see how Sam was able to tie the rope in order to keep the body hanging off the ground, as his throat just wouldn't leave him alone.

His eyes were shut from the force of the coughs racking his body so he didn't see Sam, but he could hear him. The wrenching sound coming from his general direction told Dean that Sam just threw up. The smell hit him a few seconds later, Dean grimacing against it.

They were quite a scene, Dean lying on the ground trying to breath and Sam in the far corner of the room, dry heaving and trying to think of anything other than what he just did.

Not that Dean would ever admit it, but he was proud of his brother. He had just saved his life after all. Dean rolled over, smiling at Sam, "We did it Sammy. It's over."

Sam let out a sigh, the tension leaving his body. He smiled back at Dean, his face full of relief.

But as all things work when it comes to the Winchesters, they spoke far too soon. Several sets of footsteps echoed down the hall, moving far faster than the one before. They came quickly, voices bouncing off the wall, shouts for their fallen brother. Dean couldn't tell by the sound, but if he had to guess, he would say there were more than four people coming down the hall.

Dean's eyes snapped to Sam, both of them sharing the same dread.

"Shit."